Oren lets his first swing carry through before twisting his shoulders and bringing the axe around for another strike.
"Angradd curse you for your foolishness!"
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Oren attempts to move into a flanking position to attack the thug striking at Svetlana.
Round Two: Realizing that things had turned foul, Oren hurries forward, drawing his greataxe as he goes. The combat seems to have closed in to a narrow space, however, and he has little more to do than wait for an opening.
"Or they're buying time for Natalya while she sneaks out a back door," Oren mutters back.
Oren idly fingers his holy symbol, waiting and watching as Sister Mara works to persuade the roughs to her way of thinking. He keeps a constant lookout for a woman trying to sneak away, as well.
Oren takes the offered strip of jerky, smells it, shrugs and chews. "Thank you." At the shout of the thugs, he sighs and moves a little closer, though still keeping back a way to keep an eye out for a fleeing figure.
Oren slows in his step and gestures to the others. "Assuming our target is actually here, which seems unlikely, we'll want to move more carefully. She's surely aware that people are looking for her." He looks at the shed and the two pathways. "Angradd has little need for me to act in silence and thus I am not one to do so. Perhaps it'd be better for me to wait here whilst those who are lighter of foot investigate more closely."
Oren weighs the man's words and actions before he turns away with the others. "You're more persuasive than I'd have guessed, Master Auron."
As they walk through the city, Oren looks around with interest and appreciation. "This truly is a magnificent place and awesome to behold." He grows reserved as the splendor fades to ruin and neglect, however, and shakes his head repeatedly in displeasure and distaste. "Gold? he whispers at Mara. "That might have been a bit...excessive." He resists the urge to reach for his crossbow as they wait.
"I did as well," Oren says. "I wonder if we might be able to locate one of those who was believed to be missing. Perhaps looking into it would be useful, though I'm not sure if it'll relate to our primary task."
Oren smiles. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Sergeant. Thank you for your time and assistance." He inclines his head in a gesture of respect and follows the others out the door. "I suppose our next stop will be the Underbridge," he says once they are outside. "As I understand it, that's a rough part of the city, so we'll want to be wary."
"Well good job on resolving the issues of the disappearances, then, Sergeant. The Watch certainly deserve to be commended for their quick resolution of the issue. I agree that success rarely receives the recognition it deserves."
Oren glances at Auron and Svetlana and frowns a little at their tangent. "If I may continue, Sergeant," he says firmly. "I have no desire to interfere with the responsibilities of the Guard, but could you offer any other details about these Tower Girls? Do you know the name of the leader of that faction? Where in the city did they relocate to?"
"Good day, Sergeant. I'm Oren Tor. We'd heard of Natalya's associations with the Sczarni as well. We have reasons to suspect that she has some information that we're interested in. We thought we'd inquire as to whether or not she'd been picked up in the hopes that we could talk to her." He pauses, as though struck by a thought. "We've also heard that there have been some unusual activities in her organization. Have you heard anything about that, perchance?"
Oren walks up. "My apologies for my companion," he says with a smile. "I have a rough time understanding him as well," he confides in a softer tone. "We're searching for a woman by the name of Natalya and heard that she might be facing difficulties of a legal variety here in town. I'm sure you're quite busy but it is a rather urgent matter. If we can just talk to someone about the matter we'll be quite happy to leave you in peace."
Oren accepts his portion of the gold and tucks it into a pouch. "Let us be off then."
Oren nods to Sister Mara in acceptance of the compliment. In answer to Svetlana, he furrows his brow in thought for a moment. "Better to split the gold now, in case there's individual need in the future or we should get split up in some way. The rest of you might want to divide the potions. Angradd will provide for me."
Oren nods soberly. "If such an object is indeed Thassilonian in nature it would be better for it to be in the hands of those who are prepared to deal with it properly, and there's no one better than the Society for that. My services, such as Angradd has blessed me, are yours." He bows. He turns to the others. "We must be careful if we choose to speak with Natalya's associates, given that they're looking for her too. We don't want them to know that they're in a race to find her first. I prefer speaking with the garrison first; if she's been picked up, we'll be able to save ourselves a lot of time. Otherwise, perhaps they'll have heard something that'll give us a clue."
Oren listens to the offer soberly, frowning a little at the mention of the Sczarni. "If I may ask, Venture Captain, do you know any more about this item? And Thassilon...I've heard the name but I can't say I know much about it."
Smoothing the neatly combed and bound length of his blonde beard, Oren touches his holy symbol, a silver medallion embossed with flames in a forge. He is dressed in well-crafted chainmail and carries a greataxe strapped to his back, with a heavy crossbow at his hip. "Angradd's blessings on all who are present. As my friend, Svetlana, has said I am Oren Tor, follower of Angradd and a member of the Society." His voice is deep and rich. "Ms. Heidmarch has invited me as well, but I do not yet know her purpose for us."
"It's always a good idea to have a god's servant at hand," Oren says lightly, "No matter the undertaking. I admit to being intrigued at the mention of a specialized team. When we get an idea of who these others are, I think we'll have a better chance to guess at the task they have in mind." As they break their fast, he raises an eyebrow. "I wonder...have you ever worked with the Pathfinders in the past? I'm not surprised that they called on me given my membership but you are certainly an inspired choice."
Oren nods and pats a pocket where his own invitation is tucked away. "You received one as well, hmm? Well that does put an interesting spin on things. Never fear, the Pathfinders can usually be relied upon to fulfill their contracts. If you agree to whatever task they propose, you'll get your pay." He turns away and grabs his equipment, strapping axe and crossbow in their accustomed places. "I'll come along with you. Breakfast would be most agreeable." He pats his broad but empty belly.
Oren Tor looks up from his prayers as the thumping at the door interrupts his communion with Angradd. With a sigh, he stands a'right and smooths his thick beard with a calloused hand before making his way to the door and opening it up. "I'm well awake, Svetlana," he says in his deep, baritone voice. Looking up at her blackened eye and shaking his head, he invites her in with a sweeping hand. "And so is everyone else in the district now. What happened to you this time?"
Rough draft of character sheet. Still working on a few things, especially background and equipment. But here's what I've got so far. Introducing Oren Tor (originally created for a Legacy of Fire campaign, totally redone). Dwarven cleric of Angradd.
Totally understand, Mathpro. Good luck with everything.
Oren watches the other two go, his crossbow held in his hands to try and shoot at anything that might attack them. "Sarenrae guide your steps," he says to them.
Oren moves forward, keeping his eyes and crossbow on the ceiling and the rafters. "There's something up there somewhere," he says softly.
Oren smiles gently at Marossa. "That sounds like a good plan, if you can do it safely. Don't put yourself in too great a danger, child."
Oren nods. "Lead on." He keeps his crossbow at the ready, following after Jesail and Cahal.
Now that Oren has been close enough to make out the words of the song, his eyes widen. "It sounds like that creature Cahal killed. The pugwampis!" At Cahal's words, Oren nods. "We must attend to Sarenrae's teachings and bring light into this place!" He touches his holy symbol, offering a quick prayer to Sarenrae and his symbol goes to glow.
"There's something with claws in the ceiling above us. I think there's something else with claws in the room up ahead."
Oren raises his crossbow as he peers at the ceiling. "There's something up there. Something nasty."
Oren looks at the monastery with sorrow clear on his face. "I had not thought it would look so bad," he says softly. He moves slowly forward toward the altar, or where it should be. "Who is doing that singing?"
Oren nods and leads the way, whispering a prayer to Sarenrae for protection on their journey.
"Now that we know how to get there, I am well prepared. I know more of the temple itself than the location. It was destroyed by a mad cult from Kelmarane. Stories tell of a haunting, which I don't give full credit to, and the possession by low creatures which I do believe. I wouldn't be surprised if we found more of the pugwampis there. It'll be good to flush their filth from the temple and restore it to it's former glory."
Oren inclines his head at Lady Almah's command. "We shall do as you wish. I look forward to freeing Sarenrae's temple of all that infest it. The Dawnflower's light guide you this night, Lady." At Jesail's words, Oren looks a little less confident. "I have no memory of this area, I fear. I will do what I can based on what knowledge I have gleaned in my studies but otherwise, I rely on what information the expedition's leaders might have. Perhaps Garavel can at least get us started in the right direction."
Oren walks into the tent. "Good morning, my lady, friends. Sarenrae's blessings upon you all. What are our tasks for this day?"
DM:
Oren bids his lady good day with a last kiss and dresses hurriedly as he was commanded and slips out of the tent, assuming an air of casualness to suggest there was nothing unusual about his presence there. Oren returns to his tent and readies his gear, making sure he has all he needs and moves off to where everyone is waiting. "Good eve' to you all," he says with a warm smile. "I trust all slept well this day?"
"We shall indeed do so. Good day, my lady." Oren is tired enough to obey the instructions immediately.
"Well done, Cahal," Oren says admiringly. "Sarenrae had blessed your aim. I agree that it seems unlikely that such a pathetic little creature could cause such harm but even the slightest of monsters can commit terrible acts."
Oren is puzzled at first as the goblin shouts in his strange tongue and rushes forward but nods grimly as Jesail shouts out his warning. Moving with slow deliberation, Oren draws his crossbow and ensures that it's properly loaded. Then he begins to circle around to the side, keeping his crossbow ready for whatever trouble might be awaiting them.
Oren hails the rise of the sun with both palms raised up and a prayer to Sarenrae upon his lips.
Saddened by Jesail's plight, Oren walks up to the man. "I will pray to Sarenrae that you're able to find this person that means so much to you. May the Dawnflower's light guide you."
Oren sketches a short bow to Lady Almah and follows Jesail out of the tent, keeping far enough back so that he doesn't get in the man's way.
"I am no tracker but I think I should come along as well," Oren says. He touches the scimitar at his waist and reaches up to straighten his holy symbol on its leather cord. "If these creatures truly exist, I would like to learn more of them. I've always believed the best way to learn a new thing is to experience it first hand." He turned his gaze back to Lady Almah and a smile lit his face.
Oren thoughtfully watches the pungent man disappear into the darkness. "What a strange person. You have reasons to suspect him, Lady Almah?"
"Stay your hand, stranger," Oren holds up his own hands to intervene. "Difficult as it may be to believe, these goblins are not as you might commonly come to expect. They have travelled with us for some time and aside from some queer turns of phrase, they have shown remarkable restraint and common cause with us." The cleric inclines his head and touches his holy symbol with the palm of his right hand. "I am Oren Tor, faithful of Sarenrae. How are you called?"
Oren blinks his eyes several times as the situation changes direction entirely. Then he looks to Cahal. "A who did what?" Realizing he'd spoken a little sharply, Oren smiles and moves closer to the group. "I'm sorry, what's a Pugwamp?"
Oren smiles gently. "As you are the force that has gathered us all together, Lady Almah, I was speaking of you." He clears his throat and rubs his hands together. "For the moment, at least, I am sure there is much that you need to see to and I apologize for keeping you from your tasks. If you are in need of anything, you have but to ask. In the meantime, however, I suspect that there's much left to do in preparing for our final legs of the trip to Kelmarane. Should I perhaps see about gathering my companions together? What would you have of me, Lady Almah?"
Oren inclines his head in acknowledgement. "Well, I could do nothing less. As I said, it is my honor to serve as well as I am capable." He looks Almah steadily in the eyes. "As I shall endeavor to do in whatever way my lady requires."
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