Recent content by Cosmin Lowdust

Cosmin hummed in thought at the gathered crew's various answers. Garrick's refusal was probably for the best- A duo of sorcerers might be better off without the odd couple. "Ah, yes, right," he called in response to Caliane, offering her a weak, put on smile. "Wings. A fair excuse... Oh, and my...

Cosmin awaited his allies' answers, knowing that either their 'first strike or hopeless hundredth' would reveal the path ahead. What he hadn't expected, however, was for the path ahead to be three weeks and several hundred miles of travel away. The stool beside Ezra was quickly filled by a...

The clatter of a maul hitting the ground was enough to spur another wave of brain-melting headache, but it would seem the fun had not yet passed. Another riddle, the same door, same coin-flinging hallway... Fingers crossed it had forgotten any previous grievances...? "Brings you back, leads...

Giving his tender scalp a rub, Cosmin muttered to the group. "I'm not even sure if that rumble means we're close or way off. Maybe the ground'll just give way, that'd make this all a fair shake easier... Heh, shake, rumble, it's, uh... I--... I'm in pain." Pinching his temple, the mage resolved...

"Hailstones would've been far more apt," the grounded mage thought to no one in particular as a sizable pelting of coins rained down from above. They had abandoned all sense of rhythm this time, a tragic change that served to worsen Cosmin's budding headache. "Alright, alright, no more guesses...

"Rainfall, while we're at it," Cosmin offered from the ground, folding his arms over his head to brace for impact. "And at least these failures offer something other than a sense of, I don't know, pride? That list grew rather long."

Ow, ow, OW, the mage could barely get his arms raised in time to block the pelting of coins. "Shave and a haircut, really? Bleeding--... Ow," but nevertheless, he stooped low and gathered up the scattered coins. Seven crowns in Allir-mint should be enough to get him something nice... Maybe an...

Odd, Cos thought. These coins seem to be falling for rather disparate answers- And they were drifting closer to the riddlers' heads! Might do well to see if an attempt needs to be accurate to 'earn' one. "Wood, fire, or the letter 'Q'," the mage offered with a raised eyebrow, trying to gauge...

Leaning over towards Ezra, Cosmin smirked past a whisper. "Reckon we can get it to the bottom of the door? What then, riddle over?" "Hey, door," he turned to address the aforementioned fixture, "how about 'pain', or 'anger'? Those are sort of like passion. Devotion, ardor, and fervor for good...

"Aaaaand one more 'Hope' to be sure," Cosmin concluded, a smile creeping across his face as the second one was added to the list. "And determination, tenacity, resolve-- Really just get the synonyms out of the way, clear the waters, maybe get another twitch in. How about it?"

"Okay, we're going with the abstract," Cosmin remarked through a sigh, though he was clearly excited by the prospect of this room's approaching end. "How about hope, eh? Not the ragingest of fires, but it's a good one- Enough to take down mountains and other such trivialities."

Grabbing at straws, Cosmin decides to give up his shitheadedness for a few moments. At least until they get passed this door, of course-- Then it's back to it! "Commoners? Peasants? Proletariat masses? If so, I'm beginning to sense a theme."

Strangely enough, getting punched one makes one prepare for another swing. When Garrick stepped up and took an awkward swing back at his door-facing fellow, Cosmin stepped forwards and gave the instigator a BIIIIIG hug that stopped his suckerpunch before it could begin. "Please, just quit it,"...

CRACK! The force of Garrick's dirty swing was enough to send Cosmin stumbling back, catching a hold of the wall to keep himself from fully toppling. A moment passed before he caught his breath, and another before he steadied himself enough to resume his usual dickish act. "Don't suppose it's...

That last answer was enough to earn Garrick a glare, the telltale wrinkles of a grimace contorting Cosmin's normally well-kept facade of ease and calmness. "Or perhaps it's a touch less tender of a wound, like a candle. Now I know what you're thinking, you don't tear a candle asunder-- But...