Beldan Vale's page

Beldan draws the rapier and looks at it anew. “Looks like a sword to me,” he shrugs, re-sheathing it. “So ... should we give it back? I mean, I don’t like the thought of walking around with some elf’s essence, that’s not something you want to be without – is it?”

"A girl?" Beldan's ears perk up.

"A gymnast girl?" There's definately more perks going on, but his good mood abates when Tanuki gets to the part about the parents being crucified.

"That's horrible," he says in dismay. "That's ... barbaric. Is that story true? Is this Damio guy still around?" The set of Beldan's jaw makes it look like he'd like to pay the daimyo a visit ... he never did like bullies or sadists.

“Ah, Will’O’Wisps ... I thought so.” Beldan sits down, picks up the jug of sake and takes a swig.

"Phwaw, who farted?" asks Beldan, walking back in and fanning the air in front of his face. "Take it outside."

"Anyway, Altai says we're back on Oerth. A long way from Saltmarsh though I guess. There are some lights flying around in the sky a way off, but Altai said I shouldn't mess with them."

Beldan keeps a watch for armies of frost giants in plate mail with frying pans hung from the plate mail, or even any more subtle threats, with his darkvision goggles whilst Altai stargazes.

Perception: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (20) + 17 = 37

Beldan will head out with him.

I wonder what Gittik's up to these days?

“Do any dangerous creatures or bandits or anything hang about near here?” Beldan asks. “We can share our camp if you like – safety in numbers and all.”

"I hope you're going to cook that before you eat it Elgan," says Beldan. "We don't want our new friend thinking we're all uncivilised by eating raw fish ..."

"They're masters of the sword,.......and thieves to boot. Often they are bizarre; they are as men with heads of crows, and wings......some have heads like men and long long noses.

I think they're usually a real pain in the ass."

“Oh, I’m nothing like a tengu then ... my head and nose are completely normal.”

“Pretty sure,” says Beldan. “What do these tengu folk do or look like?”

Beldan fashions a rough and ready fishing line out of a straight stick, a length of string and a bent nail. He then sits back and fishes for the afternoon, chatting with the tanuki and his friends. “Not a bad place,” he thinks.

He doesn’t catch anything with his dodge fishing rod ... in the end he kneels down on the edge of the bank, waits for a fair sized carp to swim by close to the surface, and darts his hand in to grab it, relying on his almost supernatural quickness.

“Dinner!” he announces, holding up the fish.

Have fun Heath.

Beldan nods in thanks, takes a swig from the flask, and hands it back to Elgan.

“Strong stuff.” He leans back against the railing of the bridge. “I’ve never heard of any place like this near Saltmarsh, or near Sasserine for that matter. We could still be on a different plane.”

"We're from Saltmarsh ... Originally," says Beldan.

"Told you he's not a mime."

Why do you hug trees? Are trees the wives of elves?"

"Heh heh."

He taps the road with his bean bag.

Beldan winces. “Doesn’t it hurt when you do that?”

Beldan nods. “Yeah, that makes sense. We have some food we can share if you want some ... it’s just trail rations mostly, but there’s some good wine to go with it.” He fishes the three quarters full bottle of elven wine he was drinking earlier from his pack. “If you drink that is.”

“A tengu sword huh?” Beldan pats the new fancy rapier at his side. “This one? Oh, I didn’t know. Could you point us in the direction of the city?

“Oh yeah, I can fish,” he adds. “Used to fish off the wharf all the time when I was a kid ... I don’t think I ever caught anything edible though ... it’s more about the fishing than the fish, you know?”

“I don’t think I’m a tengu,” says Beldan. “I’m not sure what that is. Um, yes, my nose is pretty small I guess.” He’s polite enough not to add ‘compared to yours’.

“Elgan’s not a mime, he’s a druid – he’s quiet now, but he usually talks a lot. So ... this valley, it’s not anywhere near Asgard is it? Or Sasserine for that matter? Is there a town nearby?” He glances down at the stream. “How’s the fishing? They biting?”

“Ha! Yes, I can understand you now. Nice to meet you Kaii-to, I’m Beldan. We’re ... not from around here. We’re kind of lost.”

Beldan glances warily at the stick. Foreigners ... why don’t they ever learn Common?

“I. Don’t. Understand. You.” Beldan speaks slowly and loudly (cos that always helps). “Maybe. One. Of. My. Friends. Knows. Your. Language.” He gestures back to the others, approaching the bridge, then smiles in a friendly fashion, steps back and calls out, “Pip? Altai? A little help here please.”

“Those are your balls?”

Beldan tries hard not to stare as he nods his head in return, and puts up his hands to show he’s not armed.

“Uh ... hello. I’m Beldan. Do you speak Common?”

That’s no bean bag ...

Beldan sneaks up on the comical looking racoon-dog person. When he’s about fifteen, twenty feet away he stops and clears his throat loudly, not wanting to startle the odd but peaceful looking fisherman.

Most likely ... Stealth: 1d20 + 36 ⇒ (12) + 36 = 48

“We might want to keep Claw in the background,” Beldan suggests. “He might scare the locals.”

Beldan heads towards (and onto) the covered bridge to get a better look at the fisherman.

“Boy, things have really gone to the dogs,” Beldan mutters. “We’re getting pushed around by otters and taking directions from turtles ...”

He looks about and shrugs. “Let’s go with Shelly. Southwest it is.”

“No girls?” asks Beldan, watching Elgan in concern.

“Yeah ... at least there must be people around ... somewhere,” says Beldan, stamping on the cobbled road for emphasis. “And these flying flowers are kind of pretty ... hmmm ... I wonder if there are any girls around ...”

“What the Hell?” Beldan looks about. “Aw man ... what did we do? Where are we ... remind me not to piss off any otters in the future ... S!!+, where’s Stig? And Gjetost? Hnoss?”

“Don’t worry Shelly,” says Beldan, who has forgotten what he was going to call the turtle before. “I’ll bandage you up if you get hurt, we can’t have our mascot going about with slit wrists ... er, ankles.” He makes sure he stays well away from the turtle's beak.

“So Altai, do you want to stay here while you get your spells ready,” Beldan glances around the dismal isle and shivers, “or should we signal the witch and head back to shore?”

“Oh no ... it wasn’t a waste of time,” says Beldan. “We got rid of a big bad dragon ... that’s got to count for something. We killed a few annoying trolls and an equally annoying dwarf. And, we’ve been quite well compensated,” he glances at the new rapier at his hip.

“I think we might be on a wild goose chase here,” Beldan says. “Loki stiffed Hnoss – her old man isn’t here, if he ever was. I’m ... at a loss to know where we would look for him. Sorry Hnoss.”

Imprisoned?

Heh heh ... she's not cutting herself or posting depressing poetry on the internet is she?

Beldan keeps glancing at the treasure, but he feels bad about starting a discussion of splitting it while Hnoss is around being a downer.

"Wow, nice diamonds ...

"Yes, I agree with the giant, the otter couldn't be her dad. She hasn't got a tail for starters ... well, that we're aware of ..." Beldan glances in Hnoss's direction suspiciously.

Beldan comes back.

“No sign of any more treasure – oh, or Hnoss’s dad,” he adds quietly. “Remains of some dead giants, dead dragons ... that’s about it. Now, let me have a look at that chest ... you’ve checked it for magic? Nothing? Good, magical traps can be a bugger ...”

Beldan investigates the chest for traps, then attempts to disarm and / or unlock the chest as required: Perception: 1d20 + 24 ⇒ (18) + 24 = 42, Disable device: 1d20 + 39 ⇒ (3) + 39 = 42 (for unlocking, additional +7 if disarming a trap).

I bet. You couldn’t pay me enough to do that, outside of a do or die situation. I like my limbs where they are thankyou.

We have a dragon grenade. Toss the turtle into a room full of enemies, target it with a dispel magic, and watch the enraged and confused beast tear s$#& up.

“Right.” Beldan has edged away from Hnoss a little, not wanting her to do that creepy touching thing again. “So ... um ... what now?”

“Oh? Was ... er, Is your father someone important?”

Beldan shrugs. “Oh well. I turned out pretty good anyway.”

“Yeah, me either ... with my dad I mean.” Beldan looks reflective for a moment. “Of course, my dad was a no good con artist who knocked up my mother then left town never to return, so I’d probably as soon give him a good kicking if I ever did run into him ...”

“Man ... that sucks for you,” says Beldan. “I’m sorry Hnoss. That Loki guy is a bit of an ass, isn’t he?”

Bring at least one or two of the others with me and start doing a methodical look around I suppose. Perception: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (19) + 17 = 36

I don't know ... just around :-)
Once everyone is ready it might be worth doing a methodical search of the island for any hidden troves, prison caves or anything else of interest. How big is the place?

"Whoa."

He puts the sword into its scabbard. Carefully.

Then, "So ... what now? I guess we should look around the island, see if Hnoss's father is stashed around here somewhere? If we can't find him ... I guess we should ask that big witch if she knows anything."

“Thanks,” says Beldan. “Nice tail.”