Ghindor the Grim's page

Ghindor will examine things underneath the bed more closely, knowing how some secretive men keep their treasures well hidden. Does anything look good here€, to a would-be adventurer? Ghindor will willingly handle any orante crafted item, more out of admiration first, then greed. Greed comes later...

Ghindor examines several of the beds, by visual inspection. He looks for tell-tale signs of recent use, like indentations, unfolded sheets, personal belongings lying on or under the bed, etc.

Ghindor stands down from any offensive posture and tries to look calm. He stokes his beard and smiles politley.

Ghindor tries his hand at "negotiations." With a wink at Gabra, he replies,

"Wha??? Tey bewitched me, too, boys. Tey mustta be powerful. Lettsa lay down our weapons andda see whatta happens." Ghindor lays down his weapon and looks at Gabra. "We don'ta wanna trouble, ma'm." He winks again to Gabra...

"Bah, foul sorcery!" Ghindor slaps his weapon in his hand, preferring the reliability of his own hand over weird and queer magics.

Ghindor's impatience seems clearly etched on his face. His hands and knuckles turn white from the stress placed on his weapon in hand. The smaller fighting-man gently leans and pressures his fellows as he tries to get a better look at this situation.

Ghindor the Grim awaits the return of reliable computer workings with his friends... :) I like this story, and hope it continues in spite of comuter issues.

Ghindor agrees to help with the mundane labors associated with a funeral pyre. He also keeps a close watch on the floor and other small areas in case more grubs surface from hidden cracks or such...

Initiative 6

"Eh? Secretta door?! Now, dat's wherein da treasure be found, lad!" Ghindor stops examining the immediate area and heads over to where the secret door was found, hoping for more (or less?) obvious treasure. "Come, Gavyn. Look sharp!"

Ghindor begins to walk towards the corpse, pulling Gavyn's hand. "Look atta da fine craftmanship in the links here- and here- but whatta likely caused his death was the loose formation in...well...I canna find any broken links in dis lightta." Ghindor stands to the left of the figure on the floor, and his eyes widen at the sight of the sword. He begins to walk over to the weapon, seeing it as a way to ply interest from the younger fisherman.

Aye- down 'tis.

"Itta ain'tta nice notta answer da lady!" Ghindor takes the slight against his friend seriously, and advances in the direction of the sound. "Does anyone have any spells prepared..ya know...justta in case?"

Ghindor punches the distraught Gavyn playfully. "Anotha room means another chance fa treasure! Down we go, friends." Ghindor seems rather anxious to proceed especially after his alter ego completed a lot of real-life work this past week...sorry for the gap in posting..

Ghindor sides with the eager Gavyn. He walks to the far edge of the room, near the stairs, glancing up the stairs and looking for whatever caused the rustling sound.

Ghindor tries tucking away the large pole. "hmrph...mustta gotten shorter!" Ghindor tries snapping the thing in twain but realizes this might require a supportive roll for strength or something.

Roll a d6 and let me know the result, Byggvir. Ghindor, how are you stowing a 10ft pole?

Hmmm...perhaps as a walking stick, then. Stupid short fighting man! :)

"Eh...dark. Gotta lightta?" asks Ghindor of the group, holding up a torch. The fighting man appears anxious to explore and remove the stiff ache in his joints lulled into premature retirement from abusive gladitorial fighting. He hopes for action!

As Ghindor puts away his pole and pulls out a torch, he fondly rubs his war hammer in a war clearing indicating his familiarity with the tool and his eagerness to use the crushing device. He carries the hammer in one hand, and the (un)lit torch in another. Ghindor holds open his bag to the party, indicating they may help themselves to one of eight remaining torches.

Ghindor inspects the walls for interesting artwork, and any lack thereof. In his professional experience, either profussions of ornimentation or the lack of such obvious bolt-hole hidings, represent wonderful ambush and spying tools.

Ghindor will also look up, vertical, to see if anything here has significant dimension.

Finally, Ghindor will replace his warhammer with his trusted 10' pole, and resume the front of the party stance with his newest companion and spear behind him. Ghindor will poke the floor and walls as quietly a he can while making his way to the door...

Ghindor replaces his pole with his warhammer. Before going inside, he secures the pole with his stuff. "Gavyn, make ready..." whispers Ghindor. The smaller fighting man walk to the door and enters...

"...and dat's how I killed the wooly werewolf, Gavyn! Eh? What? Ahh...no, Gabra. Da scene is quite quieta."

Ghindor ashamedly pokes the ground firmly with his pole as if to reassert his position. He makes a note, however, that he let down his guard. The mighty fighting-man listens attentively to the sounds in the garden area and for anything unusual.

"Maybe we be needin' a elf's ears, eh?"

"To the scullery door, all."

I assumed the short guy up front, with spear guy behind him might work well...as long as new spear guy doesn't accidently stab me! I'm okay to change up some things, though...

"Ahhh...tis but a watery well. Let's abandon foolish nightmares and search outta dis place by usin' da fronta door!"

Disappointed for lack of immediate violence, Ghindor plods away from the well and reoirients himself toward the front door...10' pole in hand and sweeping/poking the grasses and pathway before him.

"C'mere, boy!" Ghindor verbally commands young Gavyen to him with emphatic gestures. The smaller fighting man looks to impart great exploration wisdom to the local fisherman-turned-soldier-turned-adventurer. As Gavyn approaches, Ghindor begins to explain why he did what he has just done, and begins retelling the warning story of Hammel the One-Handed, a restless theif who unsuccessfully reached into a secret treasure spot without first testing it for traps. Those party members out of whispering earshot might be amused or alarmed to see the red-haired man pantomime a decapitated hand, like Hammel's, during the retelling.

Ghindor pokes at the ground near the well, using his 10' pole, the ascertain general sturdiness.

If the ground seems viable, Ghindor will approach the well and peer into it.

If the well seems dark, with no noises other than water at best, Ghindor will light a torch and drop it into the well...and wait.

"Everyone, ready whatever you decide is your weapon. Fisher boy Gavyn...you stands nextta me."

Ghindor will approachthe scene cautiously...

"Acht...we should be careful. I dunna like dis, 'justta walk rightta in' approach. I'll check outta da well, AFTER I lead dis group inta da garden." Ghindor's approach invites little discussion about his determination to lead the group into the garden, if indeed is the plan of the day. His resolve seems as firm as his hammer.

What time of the day is it?

We left in the morning, travelled about three hours, so I'm guessing it's about noon or earlier...

"Nah, girl. Waitta and watch. Let's try and find some cover, and see who or whatta else mightta wander in here. We should take differentta locations and meeta back in a while ta talk aboutta whatta we see."

"Dey liked me...dey really liked me," sniffs Ghindor. The small crowd and their sentiments of support deeply moved the otherwise dour man.

About what time of day is it, now- roughly?

Ghindor looks forward to adventure and showing off some impressive moves he learned as a gladiator. Now, however, he seeks to re-find some tranquility and peace before going of to whatever might be his likely death. Ghindor the Grim will briefly bid farewell to his friends and make known his intention of visiting the Shrine to Njord. He will also scout for his lost hireling...grrr...
Ghindor will look to be gone in these activities until the next meal (he will fast in prayer) or at such appointed time agreed upon by his fellows.

"So whatta yer saying is dat ya dunno when yer own warriors leave da field, AND ya dunno why problems have visitted ya here in Saltamarsh?

"Maybe ol' man Fisher's boy canna be doin' both- helpin' us an' helpin' yer so-calleda army, too. At leasta know dat he'll be bettera armed and equipped dan when we found him- in exchange for his momentary absence, he can keep his gear in your future service. I mean- looka dat fine tanned leather armor, huh? Doesn'ta come cheap. Young man here looks like he wants ta make a difference. Let 'im. He'll be back ta doin' whate'er was he did fer ya before ya know whatta happened."

Thank you, low Charisma, for your blunt diplomacy!

OK, it's now the afternoon and Gavyn has been outfitted. Ghindor - if you wish to, please note Gavyn now has leather armour, a spear and shield, as well as his knife. He has the damage dice of a Fighter and an AC of 15.

Noted on my character sheet. Thanks!

To his companions, Ghindor extends his thanks. He grabs the newest member of the group by the wrist and clasps his shoulder. "We should buy ya plenta of good stuff. We'll need ta make sure da suitta fits."

"Agh, an' enough restta dey'll be getta...more dan me, no doubtta."

"Boatta rides?" Ghindor spews precious beer from his orange-bearded lips. "Monstas, Gabra...dis town is full of hidden dangers. Old man, be sharing where beasta be hiding. Whatta makes you cry atta nighta?"

Ghindor appears impatient, but this may be his steady decline into drunkeness.

Ghindor looks wantingly into his own mug...and sighs...

Ghindor tries to find local merchants willing to buy or trade equipment. After his fourth such attempt, he considers asking his fellows for the promised money. Of course, his team will welcome the strong arm of another mighty warrior, Ghindor proposes.

He begins to search for his team and once he uncovers their whereabouts, heads there straightaway- his newest "addition" in tow.

Ghindor would like to sell some of his equipment to help pay for the upkeep of the newest adventurer. Are there any such shops that could oblige?

Ghindor would then like to impress his friends with the stalwart specimen of his newest retainer. He feels somewhat important to have a bodyguard of sorts, or at least a paid man working for him, because Ghindor remembers his days as a slave. If Ghindor could provide very fashionable clothes and weapons for the group or NPCs, all the better to enhance his own image.

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OOC: Just watched the movie, "Amazing Grace." Fantastic story based on true events. Very inspiring and highly recommended to all!

Ghindor
<snip>
Tha aforesaid Gavyn, wielding a knife with an experienced, if somewhat slow air, looks up and says, "Don't speak for me, 'Corporal', maybe I want to hear what the fella's got to say."

Gavyn clambers out of the boat, and approaches Ghindor. Now that you see him more closely, he has the languid strut of a tough. "So, what's the deal here? What are you after fellas for? I can use a spear and shield, unlike most o' the dregs in this town."

Ghindor eyes the seaman and makes the promise of good equipment, a spear and shield. Additional fees for food and treasure will be negotiated with our group...

Ghindor will take Gavyn with him to find Gabra and tell of his success!

“Adventure? Gold? Monstas? T’ese tings donna make life grand, lads,” Ghindor shares with a group of stalwart lads casting their nets by the dock. “Scars…and da tales of dem scars are what lastta longer den gold, longer den monstas, and make ya look worldly and more handsome ta da women-folk.

“I’ll even lend some of my gear ta da firstta boy who volunteers for dis advenure!”

Ghindor unpacks some of his "aquired" equipment. "Surely I've enough for a good warrior...I justta keep mine hammer." Ghindor welcomes others to inspect his stuff packed for an adventure. He realizes that fighting and combat might be his biggest contributions. He also knows that someone might recognize some of the gladiatorial stuff and strike a conversation about his successful past...at least after ignoring his slavery.

---OOC: I will be on vacation, leaving later today and returning Sunday. Please feel free to include Ghindor into general activitiesor NPC him until that time! This is very enjoyable, and thanks, everyone!

"Join us Gwalachmai. It is a night for tales." Gabra pushes a mug invitingly towards him.

Ghindor intercepts the mug of ale and wraps a warm arms around Gwalachmai. "Did you hear aboutta how she gotta her boatta, and about some of ta crazy women plying trades down by ta docks? Notta a good sword arm any of t'em." Ghindor is amused by the local gathering and looks to find his fill of free ales and foods before the night is through. Ghindor also wants to prove his mettle, and challenges any potential large fellows to an arm wrestling contest.

Ghindor thanks his old friend as she gently guides him from the streets. The warms of a big blanket is the best he has had in months! While he realizes the upcoming water-logged aventure might lengthen the time between good sleeps, he shuns any doubts and fears and snuggles down for a gentle nap.

Ghindor is wondering about some of the more quiet patrons last night, and wants to see if any might have an adventuring spirit and/or in need of a body guard.

Because he is flat broke, Ghindor will sleep outside, even patroling the docks in advance, anticipating great adventure.

Ghindor looks open-jawed at Cunorix: free-flowing ales? “Welcome ta tis group! We should never fear ta unknown, even if fey tay be! I like a deep ale, my new friend… Gwalachmai, if you’d kindly provide?”

The diminutive yet burly fighting man looks to Gabra as if seeking her approval. Seeing her lost in thought, he moves closer to the runes scattered across the table. “Ahhh…tis one looks like Njord’s design, with ta way itta curves and rolls like ta ocean waves.” Ghindor picks up a marker and begins to motion with it like waves in the sea.

Ghindor sees the hook-nosed face of Shadrach the jeweller looking over at the group. He approaches Ghindor and mutters, "Eh, strange company you're keepin' these days, look you."

“Shadrach, ya fool! You owes me monies from…well…a long times before I lefta! I gave ya my daddy’s rings, and then…well…lefta. I’ll forgetta any interests owed me if ya can pay up for my friends here ta drink mightily. Join us…everyone looks differenta when ya slam some suds!”

Ghindor hopes his boisterous jibes help relax a situation. While Shadrach and he did have business together, the time was shortly before Ghindor was sold into servitude and gladiatorial amusements far from home. Any boon would thrill this fighting man, since he left the combat arenas with only a choice few items stored away for survival and gold-hunting adventure. Additionally, Ghindor would be thrilled to be left alone- he might sound foolish himself in front of would-be people in need of a body guard like him.

"...and tat's why I'll find ita hard ta walk any road the watta god lays before me! Gabra? Gabra?!?"

Ghindor looks around, and stops biting his fingernails. He spits on the grouns only to look up and see one large fellow drinking a heavy ale. He smiles polietly and quickly looks around for his flaming haired friend. Ghindor, while shorter than most men, makes his way through chairs and drunkard to reach Gabra. He appears shy to the people in his company.

Ghindor gets a "8" and wonders about his gift from the gods...has Njord heard his prayers?

I assume Ghindor is supposed to have a Norwegian type accent, but I keep reading it like a cheesy Italian accent. I'll try to break myself of that habit.

LOL

I can drop the accent thing, if it helps. Just assume he's got something in character...