Losk Hammertin's page

After his morning prayers, Losk joins the others, armoured and loaded up and ready to go.

Father Zastoran frowns as he moves amongst you, distributing small vials of an oily liquid. "These will cure you of most wounds," he explains, glowering sternly. "They are very expensive. Only use them in an absolute emergency! With luck, you will not need them at all. I will be able to tend to any wounds when we join you this evening - If any fighting breaks out and you sustain injury, try to wait until then for any healing you may need. There's no sense wasting such valuable charms unless it's absolutely necessary."

"If'n we are injured enough t' need these, best to use em, than get another bolt in the back and die wi' it in yer hand. I can tend t' most wounds we may encounter while we clear oot this place though too, so we should be ok. Thank ee though, wouoldn'ee want to look ungrateful!"

zzzzzZZZZZ

:)

"Root out some stupid monkeys for a hundred gold pieces? I'm in! Besides, i'm looking forward to sleep with a roof over my head. To many bugs and to much sand out here, for my taste." He says shaking his sandals to keep sand out.

"maybe we will even find some treasure in there! he says with an excited glimt in his eyes.

He suddenly claps his hand together and exclaim "So! Who's up for dinner?"

"We ate but an hour ago ya flamin' loon! Ya know, before we went after than damn donkey-rat, and found the coursed goat.

"I'll goo now and sleep, and see ya bright an early in the mornin'"

Losk's Clerical ministrations take place at sunrise, he will prepare the same spells as today.

"I need you to rest tonight and prepare yourselves to explore this monastery tomorrow. With luck we will be able to move the camp inside those walls by tomorrow evening," she begins. "Also, we need to discuss your terms of employment in this venture. If the five of you are able to secure the monastery, I will grant each of you one hundred gold coins. Once we have secured all of Kelmarane - a further two hundred. I trust this is acceptable to you?"

"Eye, that'll do fer me, getting Kelmarane free of the hordes is all I need to see done. Anythin' else is a bonus."

"Oh Rothbard, you rascal!" he scolds the goat. "Wherever did you get to? I was worried sick.."

"He's been worried sick, Rothbard, you silly creature!" interrupts Hadrod's wife. "Wandering off like that!...You never know what might..."

"...be out there," concludes Hadrod, leading the goat away happily as he begins to pick cactus spines out of the creature's coat. "and look at you! All covered in thorns and prickles. Honestly, if it wasnt for these kind people..."

"If it wasnt for these kind people. Who knows what would have happened!"

"Who knows what would have happened."...

"Jus' doin' our bit, wouldn't want the poor things bleats or smell letting Gnolls know we were here!

wow.. are we being outmatched by a goat? how about this. Me and Losk will scare it to run one way, blocking the way back. Then the rope will be free for Nuveril to cut, and hold and drag him back to the camp. Nano looks annoyed at the panicked goat if that won't work, i say we have goat for dinner tonight

Looks to be the way of it, what's the DC to intimidate a goat? From personal experience, quite high.....(btw there is an 'ooc' bbcode tag on the boards, to get out of character text, like what i've done here, rather than just bolding it off...)

Losk looses hi patience with both the halfling, and the goat. He stands up from the mud, and face contorted with rage, charges screaming towards the goat "EEEYYYYEEEEEEEEE!!!!!"

Losk Hammertin wrote:

Can someone distract this damn goat while I get her untied? Then we can lead it back to camp. I assume it belongs there, not tied up in the scrub?

I am at a complete loss as to what Nuveril might do to distract the goat that doesn't involve attacking it. Perhaps Losk could grapple the thing while the halflings untie it? I'm assuming his CMB is higher than two halflings.

He's only a cleric....so +1CMB.....But what the hey....

1d20+1=3

Losk shrugs when no one offers to distract the animal, and instead attempts to bull-rush it, hoping to pin the animal without hurting it...Instead, he slips in the mud, and sprawls at the poor beast's feet.

Can someone distract this damn goat while I get her untied? Then we can lead it back to camp. I assume it belongs there, not tied up in the scrub?

Nano leaves the rope to Losk and steps forward, muttering an incantation. A magical ray flies across the clearing, hitting the small creature square in the chest. It screams in pain, staggering backwards into the cactus bushes before collapsing into a heap. Still panicked, Rothbard continues to tug futilely at the rope, struggling to be free.

After a moment, you realise that the foul creature is not getting up again. You're also aware that the black mood which has been hanging over all of you since entering the cactus thicket is lifting. Losk is easily able to steady the rope as Nuveril clambers back up onto the ledge.

Rothbard is still tearing back and forth in the clearing, bleating loudly as he desperately tries to escape back to the camp. Now that you are closer, you can see that the goat is severly injured, clearly he suffered some wounds from the cacti as he was dragged through the thicket. The pugwampi is a mangy looking thing, dressed in a few soiled rags with a tiny dagger still grasped in one claw, a shortbow discarded nearby.

As Nevrul reaches the top of the ridge, Lost holds out a had to pull the small barbarian up. "Well, that feels better, an' it look as though we may have found our culprit. If the bad luck that follows these things caused the man in the caravan to trip and knock an oil lamp or such.... Better take it back with us and show the rest."

"it's one of those damn rat-things! Hey, dwarf, i'm obviously not a big help to you, and i think you can hold her by yourself. I'll give this ugly thing a bit of bad luck!"

fires acidic ray.
1d20+5=15, 1d20+5=13
1d6=4

"Ya mean the bloody little things actually exist?"Lost shouts incredulously, still struggling to hold onto the rope.

Edit: unless of course, letting go of the rope causes nuveril to fall. I'm just thinking that with my 6 in strength, and my roll of 4 and nuverils weight compared to Losk's strength, my "help" is not doing anything. If letting go means that she will fall i'll attempt to aid losk.
1d20-2=8, 1d20-2=13

Technically you were aiding another, so a roll of less than 10 means you don't do anything to help, but that says nothing about letting go....But lets see what our DM has to say....

Can I get a perception check from Losk and Nano? (You only need to roll once this time).

1d20+4=10 +2 Touch/Taste

Losk heaves on the rope, but with every pull, it seems to slip back through his hands again...

2d20.takeLowest(1)+1=10

"I think ya may be right. There's no way this should be this hard."

Losk Hammertin wrote:

11 if I'm allowed to take 10 on the Str check!)

Ha

As Nuveril takes a swing at the cord which is restraining Rothbard the goat, her scimitar tangles in the rope she has tied around her waist. Unluckily, just at that moment, Losk was readjusting his grip and pulled it taut, almost twisting the weapon out of Nuveril's hand. Her backswing spoiled, the sword hits the rope with the flat of the blade, completely failing to sever it.

Startled by the halfling's approach, Rothbard charges around frantically, desperate to avoid her. The trailing rope threatens to tangle around Nuveril's legs and pull her off balance, unless she can jump out of the way.

Another lowest-of-two acrobatics check for Nuveril.

This is beginning to look like a fantasy carry on film!

"Ack, what'r y' doin'?"

Finally clearing the cinder from her eye, Nuveril takes in the situation once more -- the panicked goat, the dangerous precipice, and the overall sense of doom hanging over their heads -- and sighs. "Thrice-accursed goat," she grumbles. "We ought to slaughter the thing and take it back as tomorrow's breakfast." Digging in her backpack, she retrieves a length of rope which she knots around her body, then tosses the other end to Losk. "Here, dwarf; you look difficult to pull over. I'll try to cut the creature's tether, but I believe Dashki's rats are about tonight. If I go over the cliff, reel me back up."

"Ey, ya'll not go o'er while I hold this"

2d20.takeLowest(1)+1=6 Famous last words....(11 if I'm allowed to take 10 on the Str check!)

Perception: 2d20.takeLowest(1)+4=14 (+2 if touch/taste....)

2d20.takeLowest(1)=11 YUK!

Losk, moves forward into the final bit of thicket...

Am I correct in there being two goats now, one tied to something and one not?

Nuveril angrily rips the cactus spines out of her flesh in a manner that probably does more damage than when they went in. "Violence beats elegance anyday."

Losk lets out a deep, hearty laugh "Ya have a lot ta learn about a dwarf then! The only grace this axe ull ever see if of the violent kind, in the name of Sarenrea she'll cleave the skulls of those as stand in our way."

Check out the untrained checks on Losk! I figured she'd be eating her words about the clumsiness of dwarves.

Tehe, obviously, I did the rolls before the peach, otherwise the dice gods would have scuppered me

Losk pulls out his family axe, feeling the heavy weight in his hand makes him feel better, and also helps him balance as he moves through the next part of the thicket.

Looking at the cacti as though they will feel the axe if they attack him again, he steps forward...

1d20=15, 1d20=17

You guys are about as elegant as a blind Ogre in a glasswork

"Ah, elegant I may not be laddy, but wait till ya see me axe move. The grace will make ya cry."

As Nano, Ato and Nuveril watch on, Losk presses forward into the cactus patch. The ominous feeling is still with you as the dwarf picks his way carefully through the thorny plants. After a few paces, he places his foot on a seemingly sturdy piece of ground which shifts suddenly as he places his weight on it. Losk stumbles forward, reaching out to steady himself, but somehow his legs tangle together and he trips, landing unceremoniously sprawled in the dirt and grazing his face painfully against a nearby cactus as he does so.

Losk takes one hit point of damage.

"Ack, for the love of the sun." Losk stands up, instinctively checks his axe (is there, and safe), brushes himself down, and waits for the others, still trying to look forward in the dull light.

Nuveril doesn't quite succeed in covering up an unkind snort of laughter. "I always heard dwarves were clumsy oafs,"

Nuveril also takes one hit point of damage.

"That'll teach ya ta be disrespectful of a cleric of Her Holy Might, little one." Losk says with a grin, offering a hand to help her through the last of the thorns.

Losk pears forward into the darkness beyond the light of the torches. "Oh, for tha love of the sun! It's only a flamin' goat! What's that it's attached to though?"

This last is accompanied by Losk moving forward through the thicket...

Forgot to hit "2" on invisible castle, so two seperate rolls....No Ranks in acrobatics, so max I can get is 10 I think?

1d20=10
1d20=17

Nano scans the dwarf, his eyes focusing on the well crafted battleaxe, He whistles and reaches as to touch the weapon. ”I see you are very well equipped good dwarf.”

"Eye, ah am; An' am not affeared to use it. This axe has ben in me family for more of yer kind's lifetimes than ah care ter count. She cuts fearsome well." Losk says this in a tone that will leave the halfling wondering if he plans to use it just on enemies, or on upstart halflings too....

"you know, shouldn't we just call it a night? I mean, obviously there's none of these jackal-wampy-thingies in this thorn inferno. And i'm sure whatever is making that noice is just some animal getting hunted by a predator that means us no harm..... right?"

He directs the last question at Nuveril who seems most at home in the wilderness.

"It's true, there's summin' not right aboot this night. Ah, have no tracking skills meself, spent most o' me life in a temple, but these tracks donne look right ta me. An this feelin' o' dread is unnateral in a dwarf."

Losk will take an evening walk before he turns in. On the way he will take in the burnt out ruin, once all inside will have cooled....

Perception: 1d20+4=22

Do I get to use my funky perception check now? :)

Once the impromptu funeral is concluded, Losk and Neskari rejoin Ato and Nuveril beside the fire. At this point, Garavel emerges from Almah's tent and approaches your group, leading you a short distance from the rest of the camp to have a private word.

"Do you have anything to report?"he asks earnestly. "Lady Almah is keen to find whoever did this as soon as possible - we can't risk leaving a traitor in our midst. I have my suspicions as to who is responsible, but I wish to hear what you may have gleaned."

"Well, 'twould seem the whole o' tha camp things tha' tha dirty little gnoll hunter did it. We haven'eh any proof though. Once it's cooled a bit, am gunna go have a look over that burn out wreck."

Losk will take an evening walk before he turns in. On the way he will take in the burnt out ruin, once all inside will have cooled....
Perception: 1d20+4=22

Raising his voice so that everyone can hear, "Is there a spare blanket in camp? I believe Lady Almah would want his body treated with respect and shown all due dignity as I'm sure she would for any of you. Therefore, I would like to remove him from the wagon and prepare him for burial."

"Aye, a'gree. I can help you wi' that an give him the blessin of the Sun."

As Losk tends to the wounds of the two incapacitated mercenaries, Father Zastoran comes over to assist. Losk’s spells are enough to bring the two fallen soldiers around, although they both remain very weak. ”It’s always good to meet another man with a calling,” remarks the cleric with a smile, holding his hand out to Losk as he introduces himself. ”I’m Father Zastoran, servant of Nethys. Thank you for your assistance. I was able to stabilise their wounds, but was not able to do much more for them.”

"Ma name's Losk, Losk Hammertin, in the service of Her Lady Sarenrae. I'd have been able ta do no better on me own, but the two of us together, well, we know'n now that the'll be aright. A few days now, and they should get back to full strength, assumin' o' course, they don't try to spit roast the'selves again." All of this is said with a grin, as Losk brushes dust from his hands onto his now less than white robes and stands.

Looking up at the man, and glancing over at the dishevalled man, he says to the priest "So wha's his story then? Doesn' look to fit in, and only just back after the need for help is gone. D'reckon he may o' started it? "

As Losk wanders around distributing the stew, he will ask subtle questions here and there, trying to work out anything more about the mood of the people, and attempting to pick up on anyone telling him falsehoods.

1d20+4=22, 1d20+3=21

As he passes the two injured men, he speaks with Neskari, "Ah'll see if the Goddess u'll shine her light, on these two."

I think Losk should have two first level spells, (one for being a first level cleric, and one bonus spell from high Stat) plus the two domain spell like powers. I can spontaneously heal with the two spells, but not the domain powers. Is that correct? Either way, I can heal these two a little, but it leaves me a bit light on healing spells....

1d8+1=6, 1d8+1=5

"I am Father Zastoran, cleric of Nethys," he says inclining his head politely. "I have done what I can for these two, they were very near death. Kellien was trying to rescue Eloiah, but was overcome by the smoke. Trevvis only barely managed to pull her free of the wagon before he lost consciousness. We were very close to losing two more of our band tonight."

"Do you have any skill with healing?" he asks Neskari. "I will be able to do more for them tomorrow, however it might be best if we were to be as close to full strength as possible. You never know what may be out there in the darkness."

I'm assuming Lost is too far away to hear this exchange. If anyone asks, he has some skill at healing but not much. Also, another two? Is that two in addition to the fortune teller? Or does he not count ;)

"Hello, we're Hadrah..." begins the woman

"...and Hadrod," interjects her husband, although it's not immediately clear which is which.

"Ver..."

"It was so lucky you arrived when you did, goodness me, that poor Eloiah..."

"Burned in his wagon, he did...awful thing, an absolutely..."

"...awful, awful thing," agrees her husband. As the two of them chatter to you, they begin setting to work preparing a meal, it is clear this is their domain and that they are well used to preparing food for this sized camp. "So where are you from? More mercenaries, I hear. And a dwarf! Begging your pardon Sir...But I've hardly ever seen one of your kind..."

"No..."

"Hadrod!" chastises his wife with a scowl. "Mind your manners!...I do apologise, good sir, but he's hardly ever seen one of your kind..."

Finally giving up Losk waits for the pair to finish. "It's ver nice t' meet yee Hadrah and Hadred. My name is Losk. We hoped we could help ge ever'one some sust'nance. Ya look like the best bet fo that. How can we help?"

"It'll only be ther'own beer, an food, but it'll be warm, an u'll free um a job. ah'll go see to it."

With that, Losk wanders off to start rounding up food, firewood, and ale. Lots of ale.

Losk speaks in a quieter tone as the others disperse, hoping to just talk to the group of companions. "Well, a' least we got a thank-ee. As the sun is setting, and we have tha' last fire unner some control, I vote we make another, smaller un, and organise some food an ale for these people. They are much more likely to talk tha' way I'll bet"

Losk Hammertin wrote:

Knowledge Royalty and nobility1d20+7=25 Does Losk have any idea who she is?

Losk:

** spoiler omitted **

Lost takes note of the woman, and her past, and mulls it for possible implications later....

As you arrive on the scene, the central flap of the tent flies open and a beautiful, regal woman strides out, shouting orders to the men as she takes in the scene of chaos. Turning towards you group, she addresses first Garavel and then the rest of you.

Knowledge Royalty and nobility1d20+7=25 Does Losk have any idea who she is?

"Ah, Garavel - and just a moment later than the nick of time, as usual," she says before looking past him to the rest of you. "Don't just stand there gawking. Put your weapons away and find some way to help!" With that she runs over to a large, central wagon and begins to direct the fire-fighting efforts of a group of soldiers, madly ferrying buckets back and forth.

Losk glances at the woman as he crests the hill, and without pasuing, stows the axe back on his belt, and continues on to help with the sand buckets.

Jahaira draws her bow as she runs along with the others towards the alarm ahead.

"Finally, a break in tha monotony." say Losk as he increases his pace and hefts his ancient war axe.

"Trust that I meant no slight Losk. I hope you'll forgive me for my boldness."

"Ah, ma green friend, it'll take a lot more an that to slight this dwarf! Am bein' a grumpy bugger an ah know it, ah'll be better once ah've had a good look at Kelmarane, and sliced me off some Gnoll Steaks. Ah do wish we could make some camp and get somethin' roastin' though."

"The moment the slave resolves that he will no longer be a slave, his fetters fall. Freedom and slavery are mental states." His deep voice carries loud, even against the stinging wind-No doubt warranting a glance from Galavel. "Many a men have owned the rights to my unpaid labor, but never have I been chained by my past, 'Least not for quite some time I believe Losk." He told the dwarf simply-Looking over his broad shoulders to give a gentle smile.

"Ya donne know my folk, orc-man, if ya think that can apply t'me. Ma past'll make me stronger, because of the hurts it contained. I may dwell by day, but I look t'future too, and thas where am headed."

Losk stomps one foot down, stoically after another, wordlessly fingering the ornate axe at his belt; As he has since mid morning. Over the past days you have come to know that this dwarf is as quick with a strange joke, and a good belly laugh, as he is to draw that axe over a slight. During the heat of the day though, he does nothing but wear a frown that would curdle a Dragon cow's milk. He speaks to no one, and trudges forward.

As evening progresses, and the dry heat abates, his footfalls become lighter, and after a slow while, he turns to the others; "Ya'd think the boy had hot coals beneath his feet, as well as the desert sand." not caring that their paymaster may hear...

Meet Losk...

Ock Eye, me names Losk, Losk Hammertin, and no, I doon't. I'm afraid me accent has ben affected by me time int he temple, an e may no' be wha ya's expectin.

Backgrund's to folla.

...accent optional.