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Dark Archive

dot in here


The Flaxseed Pathfinder Lodge

GIANT DOT


Map: Rise of the Runelords | Mummy's Mask | Carrion Crown | Eyes of the Ten

EXCITED DOT!


Male Dwarf Stableboy 13 | HP 148/148 | AC 30 T 14 FF 28 | CMD 27 (32 disarm, +2 w/ Spirit) | Fort +12 Ref +11 Will +10 (+2 poison/spells/SLA) | Init +6 | Perc +17 (+2 stonework)
Spirit:
HP 132/132 | AC 32 T 9 FF 31 | CMD 30 (32 b.rush/o.run, +2 w/ Jorgan) | Fort +14 Ref +8 Will +5 (evasion, +4 enchant) | Init +1 | Perc +6

Brewing dot.


Active Buffs:
--
Leader of the Shorn HP: 121/121 | AC 25 | T 16 | FF 22 | Fort +12 | Ref +14 | Will +7 (+3 spells/SLAs/poison) | CMD 36 (+2) | Initiative +5 (+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Per. +17 (+2 & Auto-check Stone/+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Kn. (Dun.) +5 | Kn. (Nat.) +15
Resources:
Spells: Ranger: 1st- 3/3; 2nd - 3/3; 3rd - 1/1 | CLW: 100 charges

Brewing for days dot.


Thanks for the invite dot!


Hugely interested! Thanks for the invitation.


Active Buffs:
--
Leader of the Shorn HP: 121/121 | AC 25 | T 16 | FF 22 | Fort +12 | Ref +14 | Will +7 (+3 spells/SLAs/poison) | CMD 36 (+2) | Initiative +5 (+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Per. +17 (+2 & Auto-check Stone/+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Kn. (Dun.) +5 | Kn. (Nat.) +15
Resources:
Spells: Ranger: 1st- 3/3; 2nd - 3/3; 3rd - 1/1 | CLW: 100 charges

Woo hoo! Two solid invitees!


AC18/T12/F16/CMD19(23 vs BR, Trip)||HP45[45]F:+7;R:+3;W:+6(+2 vs poison, spells, & SLA)||Init:+1|Percept:+5 Dwarf Hopeless Romantic 6

Looks around the room. Huh, they look like relations....

Dark Archive

3 people marked this as a favorite.

A very elderly dwarf sits in a chair at the head of a sturdy stone table. His beard is patchy and gray. His eyebrows are now nearly as bushy as his beard. Large bags weigh under old eyes filled with wisdom. He sits beside a small fire within a lodge as he watches as all manner of race drink and be jovial within the large hall.

A few bards play light tunes upon their flutes but overall they pay little mind to him. Each night he comes here and watches the people, reading his favorite tale and listens to the tunes of days long past. He chuckles a little to himself as he reflects back on his younger years and the trouble he used to get into.

The door opens as a cold winter breeze fills the room causing the low fire to ripple. A small group of travelers enter the lodge. He watches them go to the barkeep and order a couple of drinks as they look for a table. Seeing that most of the tables are full the small group of travelers approach the lone elderly dwarf. The young human is the first to speak. Do you mind if we join you for the evening? The dwarf gives a nod of approval as he gestures to the chairs. The young man takes a seat as the rest of his companions wander off to speak with the locals. Thank you for your kindness. We were lucky to find a warm place for the night.

The Dwarf replies with a kind smile and a raspy voice. There is no place better. Seeing that the dwarf has a good sized tome under his arm the man makes a gesture towards it. Is it anything interesting? This question causes the dwarf to raise his eyebrows. Oh! It is the greatest tale. The young man now seems to get quite excited as he shifts around in his chair. Do you mind reading a bit? I do love to hear a good tale. It is the whole reason that I travel. The dwarf smiles as he cracks open the large leather-bound and begins to speak as he clears his throat.

And so we begin the Battle of Bloodmarch Hill. This adventure begins in the town of Trunau in the Hold of Belkzen, one of only a few human settlements in the otherwise orc-dominated land.

----------------------fade away to the story-------------------------------------------------------

Jubilation fills the evening air in the normally staid town of Trunau, for it is the twelfth birthday of the Chief Defender’s youngest daughter, Ruby, and the townsfolk have been preparing all day for the ceremony and festivities to follow. A throng of spectators has amassed at the town Commons; the buzz of the crowd subsides as the weathered town leader, Halgra of the Blackened Blades, takes the stage and begins to speak.

“Thank you all for joining us this night. I take immense pride in my responsibility as Chief Defender, especially when it comes to the honor of the hopeknife ceremony. It is always a great privilege to bequeath Trunauan youths their hopeknives as they come of age.” Halgra stops speaking long enough to open an ornamental case and retrieve a slender, ornately decorated dagger hanging from a silver chain. “But tonight is a special occasion, for the recipient of this hopeknife is none other than my youngest daughter.” Once again, Halgra pauses, but this time she turns to talk to the child beside her.

“Ruby, by the traditions of our town, you have come of age. This hopeknife represents your responsibilities as an adult and defender of Trunau. You must be willing to use it on yourself, your fellow Trunauans, and your family—even me, should it come to that. It will be a far quicker death than that which the orcs will offer, and providing it is your duty. Do you swear to guard Trunau from all comers, and to use your hopeknife only for its intended purpose?” Ruby—dusky skinned, black haired, and painfully shy—nods her head in response to her mother’s question.

“If the orcs come, and there is no other option, this is where you cut—here, here, and here.” Halgra demonstrates which arteries to sever while Ruby watches. When she is finished, Halgra sheathes the hopeknife and places the necklace around Ruby’s neck before turning back to address the crowd.

“Tonight, Ruby becomes a full member of our community! Let us welcome her, and celebrate her passage into adulthood! Trunau forever!” The crowd echoes Halgra’s last words in unison, signaling the end of the ceremony.

Once Halgra finishes her speech, the townsfolk waste no time transitioning to the ceremony’s more light-hearted festivities which traditionally pits the hopeknife receiver against Trunau’s best defenders. Kurst and Rodrik Grath take to the stage alongside other members of Trunau’s militia. Rodrik, a large man with wavy brown hair and a clean cut goatee kneels down next to Ruby as they whisper to one other.

Standing, Rodrik approaches the crowd waving his hands for the crowd to quiet down a little before he speaks. Tonight’s event shall be a Tug-O-War! We have Trunau’s greatest defenders already on stage.

Turning around Rodrik places his hand on Ruby’s back as he ushers her forward. Ruby will now choose her champions to assist her. Rodrik says with a large and honest smile.

An awkward child, Ruby takes a hard look at the crowd as she begins to point at a couple of spots. That group of dwarves from the Alehouse look to be strong….. and I want the elf from the leatherworking shop standing there. Yes the one in grey. The party of course. The crowd begins to eagerly usher the participants forward to assist young Ruby.

Once on stage the groups begin to grab at each end of the rope leaving young Ruby in front. Halgra steps forward and makes sure that there is even enough rope between the two groups. Kneeling down she draws a line centered between the two. [b]First to cause the other team to cross the line wins!

I will do the rolls for the event to help streamline it a bit

Tug-ofWar Rules if interested on what they were:

[ooc]
  • For this event there is 30 feet between the two teams with a line at the 15 foot mark.
  • So first to cause the other team to move 15 feet wins.
  • Each round is a new Init. The parties team init count is based on the individual with the highest Init.
  • Team that wins Init gains a +2 on opposing Str check.
  • Total Str modifier is determined by combining all str modifiers of the party. Ruby is at a -1.
  • Winning team pulls opposing team by 5 feet. For each 5 points by which the team exceeds pulls the opposing group an additional 5 feet.

Rodrik and Kurst Init: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9
Party and Ruby Init: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

Rodrik and Kurst Strength check: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21
Party and Ruby Strength check: 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 8 + 2 = 24

Ruby's group begins pulling with all of their might as Kurst and Rodrik get a worried look on their faces and tighten their hold on the rope even more. Ruby's side begins to drag Rodrik and the defenders forward 5 feet.

Rodrik and Kurst Init: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Party and Ruby Init: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

Rodrik and Kurst Strength check: 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 4 + 2 = 25
Party and Ruby Strength check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12

With their hold now tightened Rodrik and the rest of the defenders gain the advantage as they begin to heave as one. Thats right. Everyone pull at once! Rubies group lurches forward well over the starting line but stop before they cross as Torgan notices that Rodrik seems to have loosened his grip.

Seeing Ruby getting close to the edge a small group of the men that were close to the stage clambor up in a hurry and grab the rope behind the party. No way Ruby is losing this night Rodrik the man bellows with a laugh as Rodrik returns a gleaming smile.

Rodrik and Kurst Init: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Party and Ruby Init: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Rodrik and Kurst Strength check: 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 7 + 2 = 27
Party and Ruby Strength check: 1d20 + 8 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 8 + 6 = 33

With the assistance of some more of the townfolk Ruby is able to drag trunau's defenders back to their starting positions. Kurst and Rodrik seem to be breaking a sweat.

Rodrik and Kurst Init: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9
Party and Ruby Init: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22

Rodrik and Kurst Strength check: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19
Party and Ruby Strength check: 1d20 + 8 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 8 + 6 + 2 = 34

With one final heave Ruby and her champions yank the town's defender's over the line dropping them in a heap on the ground. They lay there catching their breath.

The crowd cheers as Ruby wins! Both groups congratulate each other along with Ruby as the crowd swarms the stage. One by one the townsfolk greet the members of Ruby’s team as they speak with them little by little.

The group hears a few bits of information as they spend a few hours speaking with the local people as they keep coming up to congratulate them and thank them for helping young Ruby win her first trial as an adult.

Knowledge (Local or Diplomacy) DC 5:

“The hopeknife is more than a weapon—it’s a symbol. To Trunauans, earning your hopeknife is a mark of your place in the community. When you earn your hopeknife, it means you are wise enough to make adult decisions, old enough to know what it means to fear, and strong enough to protect your neighbors, even if it costs you your own life.”

Knowledge (Local or Diplomacy) DC 10:

“Even though she’s the Chief Defender’s daughter, Ruby has to pledge to uphold the Standing Vow in order to receive her hopeknife, just like the rest of us. She must agree to hold Trunau against all comers and to never forfeit her homeland willingly. That is the Vow.”

Knowledge (Local or Diplomacy) DC 12:

“Rumor has it that Rodrik Grath is next in line for the position of patrol leader after his old man Jagrin retires. Jagrin’s a good commander, but he’s getting old, and it might be time for some new blood in the militia’s leadership.”

Knowledge (Local or Diplomacy) DC 15:

“Shame about the graffiti all over town. The militia’s got better things to do than clean up youngsters’ messes, but even stranger is how long it lasts. Try as one might, soap and water don’t do a thing to those marks!”

Knowledge (Local or Diplomacy) DC 18:

“Have you read Rodrik Grath’s latest work, ‘The Other Side of Contempt’? He’s our own home-grown writer. It’s a controversial poem, but that’s what makes Rodrik’s writing so strong—he’s not afraid to push limits.”

Knowledge (Local or Diplomacy) DC 22:

“Rodrik Grath is slated to replace his father as patrol leader, but from what I hear, he’s more concerned with his poems and plays than with militia matters. He’s diligent, don’t get me wrong, but I’m not quite sure either of the Grath boys is ready to lead the town’s defense.”


Male Dwarf Stableboy 13 | HP 148/148 | AC 30 T 14 FF 28 | CMD 27 (32 disarm, +2 w/ Spirit) | Fort +12 Ref +11 Will +10 (+2 poison/spells/SLA) | Init +6 | Perc +17 (+2 stonework)
Spirit:
HP 132/132 | AC 32 T 9 FF 31 | CMD 30 (32 b.rush/o.run, +2 w/ Jorgan) | Fort +14 Ref +8 Will +5 (evasion, +4 enchant) | Init +1 | Perc +6

The Alehouse is closed for the festival, as are most of the taverns and so, as usual, the Steelkegs have brought their mobile ale-dispensing units along to provide for the town:

A herd of yaks, led by the well-known Steelkeg brothers and their cousins, pull large carts-barrels with wheels, really-through the streets. Spouts on the sides allow the festival-goers to fill up their mugs as they pass by.

"Thataboy, Hops, thataboy," Jorgan pats his favorite yak on the shoulder as he pulls the massive ale barrel through the streets of the town. When Ruby calls for his help in the tug-of-war, Jorgan gladly leaves the ale-tending to one of the younger dwarves and joins the competition.

"Well met!" he greets the elf with a hearty handshake. "Let's see if we can help the Nameday Girl win this thing, eh?" He gives the elf a hard (but friendly) slap on the back.

After winning the competition, Jorgan laughs heartily and invites everyone over to Hops to try one of their latest brews.

Diplomacy: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (3) - 1 = 2

As usual, Jorgan spends more of his time petting and talking to Hops than he does the other townsfolk though.


Active Buffs:
--
Leader of the Shorn HP: 121/121 | AC 25 | T 16 | FF 22 | Fort +12 | Ref +14 | Will +7 (+3 spells/SLAs/poison) | CMD 36 (+2) | Initiative +5 (+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Per. +17 (+2 & Auto-check Stone/+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Kn. (Dun.) +5 | Kn. (Nat.) +15
Resources:
Spells: Ranger: 1st- 3/3; 2nd - 3/3; 3rd - 1/1 | CLW: 100 charges

As Jorgan helps Ruby win the contest, Torgan stands on the wagon and shouts to everyone in the area. "Come an' get it! The newest Steelkeg recipe: Snakebite #5! Half porter, half gueze! It'll put hair on your chest an' face!"

He fills two tall one litre mugs with the ale, white frothy head over a dark, rich brown body. He downs them quickly as his face scrunches up. "Ain't nothing more sour th'n this!"

When people seem more interested in the tug-of-war than his ale, Torgan gets a bit angry. He flags down a young man walking by. "You! Hey, you! Come try my beer!"

Diplomacy: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (17) - 2 = 15

The boy walks over and actually seems to enjoy it, even if the sourness is a bit overdone.

"Nothing better th'n a good sour beer, save a good dark beer. This be the best o' both worlds and it only took five tries!" Torgan lauds himself openly.


Dwarven Barfly | HP 151/151 | AC 31 T 13 FF 30 | CMD 32 (34 vs Trip) +4 on solid ground | Fort +22 Ref +10 Will +4 (+4 poison/spells/SLA) | Init +2 | Perc +10

"We win!" Kraygan declared after the first pull of the tug of war. He was halfway through a mug before he realized his words were perhaps a tad premature. One hand still on the rope, he spilled the other half of his ale as they were dragged across the stage. Tossing the sadly-empty mug over his shoulder he set forth with two hands. "C'mon ladies! PULL!!"

A short time later...

"We win!!"

Kraygan immediately celebrates with another full mug and gives the elf a hardy slap on the back. "Good job lass!"

Are the knowledge checks separate or tiered?
Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22

Dark Archive

Tiered. they are just little bits of conversation you have / hear during the festival as people coming and go around you.

Liberty's Edge

M Elf Age: 252 or so

Wren sits, stowing his bow within easy reach. He surveys the Commons, looking for any of the very few people within with whom he might consider a friend. There are not many who would claim such. And Wren was okay with that...silence was a good friend too.

He ignores the contest, scanning the crowd for people he might know.

What leather-working elf? There is another one...? It takes Wren's mind several moments of confused staring at the well-wishers and cat-callers before it registers that the child was speaking of him.

Jolted by embarrassment and surprise, Wren grabs his bow with clenched fist and makes his way to help the girl.

What the child would want with an old elf like him, he did not know. He had barely spoken to the lass, save maybe a grunt in passing, and suspected that he was here only because she found him strange and weird...or maybe it was a joke.

As it finally registered who he was to share the stage with, he realized the joke: Dwarves. I'm paired this those who have forgotten the lore of how to shave.

He grits his teeth and pulls, not willing to lose just to lose, but to get it over with so that he might honor Ruby.

Pull! The elf's not-so-sinewy muscles pull.
Pull! The elf's brow knits with the effort.
Pull! The elf's green eyes squint with the exertion.
PULL! For you, Ruby!!

Wren smiles, gasping for air, as his team wins...much to his surprise. He accepts the accolades with stoic politeness, never over engaging, and trying to show his support to his adopted community.

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20 Know (Local)

Dark Archive

As the dwarves are handing out their new ale to the eager crowd Wren notices that Kurst and Rodrik Grath are squeezing through the mass. Once they are finally through they approach Wren and the Dwarves and they give each other one last friendly push, smiling the entire way.

Well met, I was not expecting quite the challenge from you lot. replies Rodrik as Kurst gives a hearty laugh. That's because everyone has been holding out on you brother!

AHAHA! that may well be. Let me introduce ourselves. I am Rodrik grath and this is my brother Kurst. We are members of Trunau's militia. Our father... Rodrik turns and points at a man across the crowd. .. as you may know is the Patrol Leader.

Rodrik scratches the stubble on his face. You know we are always looking for future members for Trunau's militia. You lot should really think bout joining! Rodrik slaps a hand on Kraygan's shoulder.

What type of ale did you say you had?


AC18/T12/F16/CMD19(23 vs BR, Trip)||HP45[45]F:+7;R:+3;W:+6(+2 vs poison, spells, & SLA)||Init:+1|Percept:+5 Dwarf Hopeless Romantic 6

Vanderhoff follows behind his cousins, atop his favorite yak, Vanderhoof. Reins in one hand, a mug of the newest brew in the other, Vanderhoff may be more introverted than his relatives, but he certainly enjoyed their products as much as anyone.

Protesting only a little, Vander joins the competition, pulling with all his might. He uttered only a minor prayer to Angradd. Not really cheating he consoled himself, just asking for strength.

Diplomacy: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (3) - 1 = 2

After winning, he pats the others on the back and smakcs tankards together, sloshing the contents all over, giving a mildly loud cheer. I wish I could be more outgoing like them....

After the competition, Vanderhoff wanders the crowd, nodding to people he recognizes and humbly accepting the congratulatory slaps on the back, but never really striking up any conversations.

As the militia men introduce themselves, Vander stands a little straighter, puffing up his chest, and holding his tankard down by his side. "Well met. I thought you had us there, a couple times."


Active Buffs:
--
Leader of the Shorn HP: 121/121 | AC 25 | T 16 | FF 22 | Fort +12 | Ref +14 | Will +7 (+3 spells/SLAs/poison) | CMD 36 (+2) | Initiative +5 (+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Per. +17 (+2 & Auto-check Stone/+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Kn. (Dun.) +5 | Kn. (Nat.) +15
Resources:
Spells: Ranger: 1st- 3/3; 2nd - 3/3; 3rd - 1/1 | CLW: 100 charges

"It's called a geuze porter, ol Snakebite #5! Sourer th'n your mum 'n darker than her heart! Hint o' troll's blood to keep it fresh!" He pours two tankards for the militia men in front of him, pushing it into their hands.

"Bottom's up!" He downs his own liter of beer in a few seconds as the men, gag a bit on the sour ale. "What do ya think? Too strong for ya?"

"I can't be part o' no militia if the men can't handle their drink!" Torgan proclaims loudly from the wagon.

Liberty's Edge

M Elf Age: 252 or so
BeardDwarf#1 wrote:
"Well met!"
NearlyIdenticalBeardDwarf#2 wrote:
"Good job, lass!"

Wren accepts the dwarven 'introductions' with quiet grace, no stranger to the strangeness of dwarves over his centuries.

"Yes, bravo, us," Wren says dryly, looking to keep it polite and keep his back from being over smacked and have too much beer spilt upon his shoes (made of leather, of course).

He is relieved when the brothers Grath interrupt. Wren gives them his full attention.

"I have served as a volunteer for a while. Is there a more formal position opening? Or...were you talking to *them*?" Wren asks politely as he can.

Since Wren has lived in the area for a (human) generation or so, he would be well known.

I'll get a physical description of Wren up soon enough. Would appreciate any differences between you beardies at some point. Unless you are look like your icons?

Dark Archive

Kurst and Rodrik grasp the cold mugs full to the brim of frothy dark liquid. Smiling they clank tankards with teh dwarves as they both tip them on their endsgulping down the Ale.

Kurst swallows a bit wrong as he begins to cough, doubling over. Hahaha! You never could handle the dwarven ale!

looking to the rest of the group. Ah yes Wren. Sorry I meant mainly to the dwarves here. There is no formal opening we are just looking for volunteers as always. Looking to the dwarves he smiles. Old Wren here may seem sour but he is a good trusting man. Been here for as long as I can remember anyways. Hell Me and Kurst used to go pick up our parents shoes from his shop when we were children!

Holding his Tankard back out to the dwarves he leans against the large keg of ale. Mind if I get another sample......? Sorry I never am good with faces. What were your names again friends?

Probably a good spot for character introductions.


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Dwarven Barfly | HP 151/151 | AC 31 T 13 FF 30 | CMD 32 (34 vs Trip) +4 on solid ground | Fort +22 Ref +10 Will +4 (+4 poison/spells/SLA) | Init +2 | Perc +10

"Hah! The Steelkegs ain't no pushovers! Or pullovers in this case." Kraygan offers Rodrik and Kurst a firm dwarven greeting, which consists gripping wrists.

When the elf broaches the subject of the militia, Kraygan snorts. "You accept ladies?" He asks, then peers sideways at Wren. He'd always thought the elf was female, but had only seen him/her from a distance.

Kraygan bears a resemblance to his cousins, but has perhaps a dozen years on them, and about the same in pounds of muscle. His beard is long and straight, with a mustache like a long brush that completely covers his mouth. He's dressed nicely today, meaning he's wearing his regular clothes (all varying colors of dirt), but recently rinsed in the yak's water trough. A dwarven waraxe hangs from a loop on one side of his steel-plated belt, and a cudgel hangs hangs on the other.

With a shrug, Kraygan turns back to the militiamen. "I knows who yer are. My name's Kraygan Steelkeg. Was a soldier m'self. Served a tour watchin the homeland borders for giants. Trained ten years to fight 'em but never got closer than bolt-shot to one. Big dumb cowards, the lot of 'em. Gah! Where are my manners, have another mug!" Kraygan fills four more and hands three over, two to the brothers and one to Wren.

"So yer lookin to fill the militia? Might be tempted to join and help you boys out, but I ain't listenin to poetry or scrubbin graffiti! You can do that! Hah!" Kraygan toasts to Wren at the last part and downs half his cup, then utters a belch so violent it blows a spray of froth from his beard. Gesturing to the brother's father across the room, he says, "Heard old Jagrin's gonna step down soon. He arranged a replacement yet?"

A little information is a dangerous thing in the hands of the socially-handicapped.
Diplomacy: 1d20 - 3 ⇒ (10) - 3 = 7


Active Buffs:
--
Leader of the Shorn HP: 121/121 | AC 25 | T 16 | FF 22 | Fort +12 | Ref +14 | Will +7 (+3 spells/SLAs/poison) | CMD 36 (+2) | Initiative +5 (+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Per. +17 (+2 & Auto-check Stone/+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Kn. (Dun.) +5 | Kn. (Nat.) +15
Resources:
Spells: Ranger: 1st- 3/3; 2nd - 3/3; 3rd - 1/1 | CLW: 100 charges

Torgan bonks Kraygan on the head with the mallet end of his keg-tapper when he calls Wren a woman. "Quiet, you! Show some respect to the elf."

The blond-haired dwarf wipes the sweat off his brow with his meaty hands before wiping them on his red tunic. He pulls out a tap and slams it home with his maulaxe, sending froth flying in all directions as he pours beer for all the onlookers. "Get it while its lightly cooled!"

He looks like his portrait.


Male Dwarf Stableboy 13 | HP 148/148 | AC 30 T 14 FF 28 | CMD 27 (32 disarm, +2 w/ Spirit) | Fort +12 Ref +11 Will +10 (+2 poison/spells/SLA) | Init +6 | Perc +17 (+2 stonework)
Spirit:
HP 132/132 | AC 32 T 9 FF 31 | CMD 30 (32 b.rush/o.run, +2 w/ Jorgan) | Fort +14 Ref +8 Will +5 (evasion, +4 enchant) | Init +1 | Perc +6

Jorgan looks more animal than dwarf, although it might just be that most dwarves look a bit like animals to some folk (*cough*elves*). Certainly the old adage about looking like your pet is true, as Jorgan's head hangs low and the furs draped over his shoulder make him somewhat resemble his yak friend Hops. To complete the ensemble, you note that his boots are covered in must be yak dung.

"Militia, eh?" the big-eyed dwarf scratches his rear end as he considers it. "The Steelkegs have always helped out where we can, patrollin' the wilderness and whatnot, but I can't say I ever considered joinin' offic'ly. Somethin' to consider, I 'spose."

At a prompting for an introduction, he offers his hand in a hearty shake. "Jorgan Steelkeg. My brother Torgan over there is the real brewmaster, t'be perfectly honest now. I guess I'm what you'd call the distributor."

Jorgan stays quiet after this, as if unsure how best to strike up a conversation with someone with an Int more than 3.


2 people marked this as a favorite.
AC18/T12/F16/CMD19(23 vs BR, Trip)||HP45[45]F:+7;R:+3;W:+6(+2 vs poison, spells, & SLA)||Init:+1|Percept:+5 Dwarf Hopeless Romantic 6

Vanderhoff is more well kept than his cousins, he beard neatly braided and his clothes, mostly clean. Like his picture. He wears an iron holy symbol, of a smoking forge, on a chain around his neck.

Vanderhoff continues to hold his stiff posture in front of the men. "I'm Vanderhoff of the Steelkeg clan. These two," motioning to Jorgan and Torgan, "are my second cousins, thrice removed, on my mother's side and third cousins, twice removed, on my father's side. Kraygan is my third cousin, once removed, on my mother's side. I have only recently come to join my cousins and to see the wider world. As a follower of Angradd, the milita is a very tempting offer. How much time is required? Though I do not brew myself, I do help out at the brewery, to earn my keep. I have a little training in arms and can offer the blessings of Angradd."

Dark Archive

Kurst looks to Krayden as he takes another drink of his ale. Ten years on the giants border is quite impressive. Hopefully you never do have to actually see one of them up close.

Kraygan wrote:
"So yer lookin to fill the militia? Might be tempted to join and help you boys out, but I ain't listenin to poetry or scrubbin graffiti! You can do that! Hah!" Kraygan toasts to Wren at the last part and downs half his cup, then utters a belch so violent it blows a spray of froth from his beard. Gesturing to the brother's father across the room, he says, "Heard old Jagrin's gonna step down soon. He arranged a replacement yet?"

Kurst bumps Rodrik with his elbow as he bellows with laughter. HAHAHA! Looks like you have another 'fan' of your work Rodrik. Rodrik ere actually has some pretty good work in his freetime. I don't know if any of you have read Ballad of he Bloodmarch or Hommel and Brekka?

Rodrik waves him down to cut him off. It is fine brother and thanks for promoting my work He smiles. My father is reaching the age that he wants to settle down though there is nothing official yet on who will be the next patrol leader.

The militia does not require a lot of time unless you wish it to. Mainly we only call for assistance when it is required. My father and a few of us handle the petty stuff around town. We only call the volunteers in times of dire need as I am sure Wren can catch you up on the details. I should go and congratulate Ruby on her victory this evening. You all have a good evening.

The brothers wave goodbye as a Halfling woman Cham Larringfass springs up in front of Wren and the dwarves. Congrats and thanks for the ale tonight. You guys need a place to stay you know I always have room at the Ramblehouse Inn for you. Hells your brewery keeps me stocked on some of the best ale all year it is the least I can do. Wren has always had the same offer. Did you know he made everyone of the leather cushions for the seats downstairs?

Vanderhoff wrote:
"I'm Vanderhoff of the Steelkeg clan. These two," motioning to Jorgan and Torgan, "are my second cousins, thrice removed, on my mother's side and third cousins, twice removed, on my father's side. Kraygan is my third cousin, once removed, on my mother's side.

HAHA Love it

Liberty's Edge

1 person marked this as a favorite.
M Elf Age: 252 or so

Wren's head bobbles between the different dwarves, his mind failing to keep up with the connected relations.

Kraygan. Trained but untested. The most objectionable of the group.
The blond one. Doesn't follow directions, aka a dwarf. But seems more socialable than the others.
Jorgan. The one who looks (and smells) like a Yak...which is what I would be doing if I have more than a few of their brews, likely.
VanderHoof. The clean one. Some training. Seems to be more able...of what, I don't know yet.

Wren shakes hands, Lastwall Fist bumps, high fives and returns any other greeting in kind.

"I am Wren. As a member of the volunteer militia, I would be good if you would join the ranks. Only by working together can we defend ourselves," Wren says.

They will make good speed bumps and likely take down a few orcs, no doubt...which will allow me to get a few more arrows off.


Dwarven Barfly | HP 151/151 | AC 31 T 13 FF 30 | CMD 32 (34 vs Trip) +4 on solid ground | Fort +22 Ref +10 Will +4 (+4 poison/spells/SLA) | Init +2 | Perc +10

While initially nodding at Vanderhoff's recital of their grand lineage, Kraygan soon becomes lost in the intricacies. "Is that how it works out? Sounds like someone married their sister. Hah!" He tosses a couple friendly jabs at Jorgan and Torgan. Being drunk is both a blessing and a curse in this - while his aim is bad, his control over his strength suffers too, and any blow will likely leave a bruise.

To the halfling, he gives a broad smile, or rather his mustache does. "Thanks for the offer. Might take you up on it. The stables 'r getting a little lousy."

"So Wren," he looks to the elf, then down at the elf's fine shoes. "You work with leather? Ever tooled a saddle?"


Male Dwarf Stableboy 13 | HP 148/148 | AC 30 T 14 FF 28 | CMD 27 (32 disarm, +2 w/ Spirit) | Fort +12 Ref +11 Will +10 (+2 poison/spells/SLA) | Init +6 | Perc +17 (+2 stonework)
Spirit:
HP 132/132 | AC 32 T 9 FF 31 | CMD 30 (32 b.rush/o.run, +2 w/ Jorgan) | Fort +14 Ref +8 Will +5 (evasion, +4 enchant) | Init +1 | Perc +6
Kraygan Steelkeg wrote:
"Is that how it works out? Sounds like someone married their sister. Hah!"

Jorgan scratches his head. "I always thought it was yer father's the one that did that."

Wren. wrote:
"I am Wren. As a member of the volunteer militia, I would be good if you would join the ranks. Only by working together can we defend ourselves," Wren says.

Jorgan stays silent and thinks for a moment, nodding to himself. You notice that Hops makes a very similar movement as he chews on his cud. "Alright, I'll give it a go."

Kraygan Steelkeg wrote:
"The stables 'r getting a little lousy.

"I rather like the stables," Jorgan mutters to himself.


Active Buffs:
--
Leader of the Shorn HP: 121/121 | AC 25 | T 16 | FF 22 | Fort +12 | Ref +14 | Will +7 (+3 spells/SLAs/poison) | CMD 36 (+2) | Initiative +5 (+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Per. +17 (+2 & Auto-check Stone/+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Kn. (Dun.) +5 | Kn. (Nat.) +15
Resources:
Spells: Ranger: 1st- 3/3; 2nd - 3/3; 3rd - 1/1 | CLW: 100 charges

"Quit yer yappin'! We got mouths to fill with our ale! You lot can sign up for patrolling the river and what not on yer own time! Hell, I can use a break from brewing, but this ain't the time to be dawdlin' over such things!" yells Torgan.

The stress of the event seems to be getting to the dwarf as people keep hounding him for more beer. This surprises him as his previous batches have been a bit... off-key. He seems to struggle to fill the tankards as fast as the townies seem to want the beer.

"Hell, I've only had five litres today! I liked it more when no one liked my brews!" yells Torgan at no one in particular.

Sense Motive 10 (5 for the Steelkegs):
You know this not true, but he does enjoy getting drunk.

Liberty's Edge

M Elf Age: 252 or so
Kraygan Steelkeg wrote:
"You work with leather? Ever tooled a saddle?"

Wren looks down upon the questioning Kraygan. Both entendres, Wren is taller and better, of course.

"I have tooled a few saddles in my time. If you need work done, might I suggest you coming to the shop tomorrow?" Wren says 'politely', looking at the dwarf's dirt stained recently-cleaned-in-yak-water smock.

Wren bows his head gracefully at the halfling, Cham.

"I have my apartment, Cham...but I appreciate the offer. My place..." Wren's eyes flicker to the dwarves. "...my place is quiet. Which I like. If you need more work done, please let me know."


AC18/T12/F16/CMD19(23 vs BR, Trip)||HP45[45]F:+7;R:+3;W:+6(+2 vs poison, spells, & SLA)||Init:+1|Percept:+5 Dwarf Hopeless Romantic 6

Vanderhoff nods in thanks to Cham. "I appreciate the offer, ma'am, but the brewery is good enough for me. I keep the fires stoked through the night."

Turning back to the militia brothers, he extends his hand. "If you ever need an extra axe, you can count on mine."

Dark Archive

Cham nods her head eagerly at the dwarves as she whispers to Vanderhoff. Smaller fee for us smaller people. We have to stick together. She says with a smile as she hobbles back into the crowd, a mug of ale in her hand.

As the sun sets completely the party begins to dissipate. a yawning Ruby is being seen lead back hom by her mother, the Chief Defender Halgra.

A few of the participants stay back to get a bit more of the ale from the generous Steelkeg family but eventually the small town becomes quiet once again.

Where is everyone staying for the night?


Male Dwarf Stableboy 13 | HP 148/148 | AC 30 T 14 FF 28 | CMD 27 (32 disarm, +2 w/ Spirit) | Fort +12 Ref +11 Will +10 (+2 poison/spells/SLA) | Init +6 | Perc +17 (+2 stonework)
Spirit:
HP 132/132 | AC 32 T 9 FF 31 | CMD 30 (32 b.rush/o.run, +2 w/ Jorgan) | Fort +14 Ref +8 Will +5 (evasion, +4 enchant) | Init +1 | Perc +6

As festivities die down and as the last dregs of Hop's barrel-wagon are drained, Jorgan leads his yak back to the Steelkeg stables behind the Alehouse and, after bedding the animals down, takes his usual spot sleeping in the loft of the stables.


AC18/T12/F16/CMD19(23 vs BR, Trip)||HP45[45]F:+7;R:+3;W:+6(+2 vs poison, spells, & SLA)||Init:+1|Percept:+5 Dwarf Hopeless Romantic 6

Vanderhoff follows after his cousins, seeing to Vanderhoof, stoking the tun fires, then laying down in the corner of the brewery.

Dark Archive

The following morning Wren awakens in his apartment while the dwarves awaken in their stables with the yaks. While going about their morning duties or cleaning the urns and drying new leather the group begins to see people going past the store's windows in a state of dismay. First in ones and two's, then in a little bit larger crowds of 4-5 people. Paying little mind to it in the beginning it begins to become quite a nuisance as more and more pass. Quite a few seem to have a look of shock on their faces as Wren sees men consuling weaping women.

Torgan sticks his head out the door, looking down the dusty road. He covers his eyes from the bright sun and sees that they all seem to be headed towards the Ramblehouse where there is now a large crowd gathered.


Active Buffs:
--
Leader of the Shorn HP: 121/121 | AC 25 | T 16 | FF 22 | Fort +12 | Ref +14 | Will +7 (+3 spells/SLAs/poison) | CMD 36 (+2) | Initiative +5 (+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Per. +17 (+2 & Auto-check Stone/+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Kn. (Dun.) +5 | Kn. (Nat.) +15
Resources:
Spells: Ranger: 1st- 3/3; 2nd - 3/3; 3rd - 1/1 | CLW: 100 charges

Torgan helps his brother store the equipment and brushes down Malt before retiring to his cot in the brewhouse. He awakes every few hours to measure and maintain the fire under the wort vat before collapsing back into his bed.

---

Torgan, hard at work cracking malted barley through his roller, sees the commotion and yells out to Jorgan. "Get the cousins! Some sort o' incident is happening!"

The stout blonde (both types of beer!) trundles out of the brewery and yells at one of the men. "Oi! You! What's all the racket?"


Dwarven Barfly | HP 151/151 | AC 31 T 13 FF 30 | CMD 32 (34 vs Trip) +4 on solid ground | Fort +22 Ref +10 Will +4 (+4 poison/spells/SLA) | Init +2 | Perc +10

Though he was planning on bedding down at the Ramblehouse Inn, by the end of the evening Kraygan has grown a little maudlin from all the drink and stumbles after his cousins back to the brewery, mumbling to himself.

"Can't leave Haggis back there. He'd get lonely."

Back at the stables Kraygan grabs a handful of feed and finds his yak. "Here ya go, ya damn lousy beast." He strokes the yak's sturdy flank and scratches behind an ear. "Who's a good yak, hmm? That's right, Haggis is."

Tipping the last dregs from one of the festival kegs, he takes a swig, offers some to Haggis, then staggers into a free stall to pass out.

The next morning...

Kraygan wakes, still feeling a little drunk. He rolls over and tries to cover his ears and ignore Torgan for 5 more minutes. "Uhhhh.. feels like a stampede running through me head."

Liberty's Edge

M Elf Age: 252 or so

Wren tries to ignore the people before his curiosity gets the better of him. Putting away his awl, Wren cleans up his leather tools and tosses scrap leather into the misfits pile.

Fearing the best/worst, Wren gets his quiver, his bow, and follows the crowd.

Maybe an army approaches. Finally.

Wren looks for someone he might recognize and gossip with to find out what's going on.

1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20 Know (Local)


AC18/T12/F16/CMD19(23 vs BR, Trip)||HP45[45]F:+7;R:+3;W:+6(+2 vs poison, spells, & SLA)||Init:+1|Percept:+5 Dwarf Hopeless Romantic 6

Vanderhoff hears his cousin's call and sets aside the pitchfork he was using to clean the yak stalls. Pausing at a basin to wash the grime from his hands and face, the dwarf trots outside. "What's happened?" He asks, peering down the street.


Male Dwarf Stableboy 13 | HP 148/148 | AC 30 T 14 FF 28 | CMD 27 (32 disarm, +2 w/ Spirit) | Fort +12 Ref +11 Will +10 (+2 poison/spells/SLA) | Init +6 | Perc +17 (+2 stonework)
Spirit:
HP 132/132 | AC 32 T 9 FF 31 | CMD 30 (32 b.rush/o.run, +2 w/ Jorgan) | Fort +14 Ref +8 Will +5 (evasion, +4 enchant) | Init +1 | Perc +6

Jorgan helps rouse the others and runs out the door after Torgan. "Aye, somethin's goin' on down there. Let's be headin' tha' way!"

Dark Archive

The group of dwarves and Wren gather their gear and make their way down the street. Wren catches up to a woman near the Ramblehouse just as the dwarves approach. The woman seems to have been crying as the crowd hums with a low murmur.

Arriving at the Ramblehouse and crowd, the Trunau militia seem to have the building blocked off as more people are gathering all around. Haven't you heard? Rodrik was found dead in his room this morning. Cham found his body. His wrists cut clean open with his hopeknife.


Male Dwarf Stableboy 13 | HP 148/148 | AC 30 T 14 FF 28 | CMD 27 (32 disarm, +2 w/ Spirit) | Fort +12 Ref +11 Will +10 (+2 poison/spells/SLA) | Init +6 | Perc +17 (+2 stonework)
Spirit:
HP 132/132 | AC 32 T 9 FF 31 | CMD 30 (32 b.rush/o.run, +2 w/ Jorgan) | Fort +14 Ref +8 Will +5 (evasion, +4 enchant) | Init +1 | Perc +6

"Tha' could on'y mean one thing, righ'? Orcs!" Jorgan pulls out his dwarven waraxe and tests the weight in hands, ready to cleave some orc skulls.


AC18/T12/F16/CMD19(23 vs BR, Trip)||HP45[45]F:+7;R:+3;W:+6(+2 vs poison, spells, & SLA)||Init:+1|Percept:+5 Dwarf Hopeless Romantic 6

Vanderhoff turns quickly to Torgan and whispers in the dwarf's ear. "It couldn't be from the brew could it? Spoiled grain or something....?


Active Buffs:
--
Leader of the Shorn HP: 121/121 | AC 25 | T 16 | FF 22 | Fort +12 | Ref +14 | Will +7 (+3 spells/SLAs/poison) | CMD 36 (+2) | Initiative +5 (+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Per. +17 (+2 & Auto-check Stone/+2 Urban/+4 Mtn.) | Kn. (Dun.) +5 | Kn. (Nat.) +15
Resources:
Spells: Ranger: 1st- 3/3; 2nd - 3/3; 3rd - 1/1 | CLW: 100 charges

Torgan glowers a bit at Vanderhoff. "Quiet you! Everyone had some ale and he's the only one dead. Plus the psychotropic ales are under lock and key in the cellar!"

Liberty's Edge

M Elf Age: 252 or so

Wren shakes his head with sorrow. If he can, he will offer his condolences to the family.

If nothing else happens, he returns home.

Dark Archive

A man standing to the side of the building finally looks up. It is Kurst, Rodrik's younger brother. He approches the group as he waves you off to the side where he solemnly whispers in a low voice.

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now that my brother, Rodrik—you met him last night—was found dead this morning, and I’ve had my hands full since. Right now, the official cause of death is suicide, but I just can’t believe that. Something else has to be going on. Unfortunately, Rodrik was the best investigator in Trunau; if he were on the case, solving the mystery of his death wouldn’t take long, but with just me left, we might never know what really happened.” Kurst sighs heavily.

“I simply can’t handle the investigation and tend to my family duties at the same time. I may be a patrol captain, but right now, I feel my responsibilities as a brother outweigh my other duties. Still, I can’t just let this lie. I’m afraid I’ve exhausted all my other options—the members of Trunau’s militia are competent defenders during siege times, but they’re not sleuths by any means. I need your help. Will you investigate my brother’s death?”

Liberty's Edge

M Elf Age: 252 or so

Wren consoles Kurst with all the elfy dignity he can manage...until...

Kurst wrote:
"Will you investigate my brother's death?"

Wren gulps and looks around at the dwarvenwreckingcrew; he ponders for a moment taking deep breath.

"Kurst...might I speak to you about this in private?' Wren asks, turning Kurst away so that he may speak freely.

"Is this a test? If so, I have no interest in command or leadershiip...I had that once. Once," Wren's voice hardens with the remorse. "If you seek to promote me after you see if I can lead these dwarves, I understand. But I do not seek promotion."

Wren pauses and continues, scanning the man's face for sign of jest or joviality.

"Furthermore...they are outsiders to Trunau, as well. In addition, in case you missed this, they are...uhm...not exactly delicate. They will be trampling whatever evidence they don't scare away. Might I handle this with a few local chaps? I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this quickly."

Wren turns over his shoulder to smile at the dwarves (and ensure that they are still out of hearing range).

"One or two of them will make the investigation hard enough...but the entire clan would be like sending in an owlbear to fetch a flower."

Dark Archive

Wren wrote:
"Is this a test? If so, I have no interest in command or leadershiip...I had that once. Once," Wren's voice hardens with the remorse. "If you seek to promote me after you see if I can lead these dwarves, I understand. But I do not seek promotion."

Kurst face hardens a bit. This is not test Wren. This is my brother's death. I ask you because I respect how meticulous and straight forward you are. You have been in this town for years so you know almost everyone.

Wren wrote:
"Furthermore...they are outsiders to Trunau, as well. In addition, in case you missed this, they are...uhm...not exactly delicate. They will be trampling whatever evidence they don't scare away. Might I handle this with a few local chaps? I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of this quickly."

Kurst begins to relax a bit more. He looks as if he has not slept for a week. I am asking for their help precisely because they are outsiders to Trunau. Trunau is a close-knit community, and if Rodrik was murdered, then his killer is most likely a fellow citizen. I don't know who I can trust so I am turning to you all. He nods towards the dwarves.

They may be rough around the edges but you may need that during the investigation. I know if anyone can help look over this it is you Wren. My brother always spoke very highly of you.


Dwarven Barfly | HP 151/151 | AC 31 T 13 FF 30 | CMD 32 (34 vs Trip) +4 on solid ground | Fort +22 Ref +10 Will +4 (+4 poison/spells/SLA) | Init +2 | Perc +10

As Wren speaks with Kurst, Kraygan tries to recall if he remembered to stow away the special brew in the cellar after his last tasting. It's hard to remember things when you're drunk and seeing crazy stuff.

When the elf looks back at him and his cousins with a smile, Kraygan returns it with a friendly wave.

"Looks like the elf has this covered. Should we head back to the brewery? I'm thirsty for breakfast."

Liberty's Edge

M Elf Age: 252 or so

Wren nods, turning Kurst around and back to the dwarfmoot. He has an unhappy smile on his face.

"Kurst, where did you want us to start? Inside? Is there anything else we should know?" Wren speaks slowly so the dwarves can keep up.

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