"Move fast, and move one at a time," Stigr agrees, not liking the look of the structure. He peers at the bridge, looking for any telltale signs that it won't hold--fraying ropes, rotted planks, anything obviously dangerous.
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15
Stigr spent the night on the ground floor, nursing a mug of ale and staring into the fire. (He was able to do this by virtue of keep watch). As the others come down, he nods to them, then returns to his staring, mulling over the recent events.
"Where are we off to, then? Back into the woods?" he asks.
Stigr parts from Yuln and the Lady leaving his shield with the Ulfen, a sign of respect. He then joins the others at the inn and eats a small meal before the group moves on (whether to sleep or to head back out).
Stigr makes sure to also visit Yuln with the lady and Gaandik. "Your duty is fulfilled, brother," he intones to the Ulfen in Skald. "Old Deadeye smiles on you for your service to the community of the world."
Honestly, I'm full up on carrying capacity at the moment, and nothing on the list really interests me except the cloak, which is better served elsewhere. I could take the divine scroll, though I don't have the skill to determine what it is, and Gaandik could probably make more use of it.
I'm proficient in short swords, but I'm happy with my axe. Stigr's meant to be a ranged character, the battleaxe is more for when he's confronted. As for the cloak, it's versatile enough that anybody could benefit. It could help with my own AC and Intimidate, though I'm pretty well-off on those already.
Stigr frowns again as Indras cuts through the man, though he makes no move to stop him, and steps over. He glances down at the symbol and then kicks it aside. "Norgorber. A blight upon the gods." He looks up at Indras and nods, still grim-faced. "You have done well today, friend. Your perception of his lies may have saved us all, including the people of Heldren." It seems that he's a bit uncomfortable with speaking to you after the earlier confrontations, but he seems genuine. "Thanks."
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23
Stigr frowns and grips his axe. "I do not take kindly to those who waste my time and play with the path of the gods." He then slams Roknar in the gut and grabs the back of his neck (if you want rolls for this, I can supply them). "Mock my offers and they will be reversed."
Indras, if you do that on the road, Prophet will not stop you, so you can decide whether to keep it or alter it.
Stigr frowns. "Skeletons and zombies... I can't say they'd be very well-liked in town, and torturing the bodies of the fallen is an evil path. But light and dark are two sides of the shadow; there is good in your art, I'm sure." He claps Roknar on the shoulder. "Commit yourself to joining your brothers in community, and the road to redemption will be found."
Stigr shrugs. "I've never claimed to have the Sight, or know what the Divines think. But redemption is available for most, as long as they are willing to seek it... and pay the price for a return to the light from darkness."
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (3) + 9 = 12
"Necromancy... powers over life and death, yes? Seems to me that a beneficial application would be clear if you put in some effort. And you could easily place unsavory pursuits to the side while serving in the town. You're surely not the only man who has a fascination with something that isn't very acceptable in society."
Note to Gaandik and everyone, really: Stigr's actual name isn't common knowledge. He mainly goes by "Prophet." Not a big deal, just pointing it out, as I'm planning for it to be a character development thing.
"I will do all I can to ensure your safety and place in the community, should you accept the offer." Stigr shifts his weight on his axe. "I cannot promise full redemption in the eyes of the townsfolk, but I will speak on your behalf."
Stigr frowns at Indras's proclamation. Should've trained in healing.
He looks to the sick bandits. "Very well. We should get moving back to Heldren. But if I may have a moment..."
He steps up toward the diseased men. "You were born into a society, a community. This is the gift of Erastil, his blessing of sanctuary and life among your brethren. You turned on this gift, revoked his blessing and went rogue, taking advantage of your kin and community. Old Deadeye is displeased with what you have done, but he is not merciless. Accept his gifts, and vow that you might rejoin society and civilization should you survive your illness. Deadeye watches us all." He bows his head and murmurs in Skald before rejoining the group.
"Let's be off."
Stigr sighs. "I agree with Drazheek. It's too dangerous to leave bandits unguarded in their own hold. But I'm not certain what the better plan is. I'm... hesitant, to act as arbitrator here." The Ulfen leans on his axe.
I'm a Heretic because I believe differently from the main church of Erastil in the Land of the Linnorm Kings, which caused me to leave the organization and the nation. Doesn't mean I don't spread the word!
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Stigr chides ironically. "That's not very community-oriented thinking, now, is it? Your neighbors are meant to be supported, not frozen."
Stigr gives a small, malicious grin. "Snowball it is. Tell me, Snowball, have you accepted the word of Erastil into your heart?" As the group prepares to make way back to Heldren, Stigr helps with anything that needs carried, but he makes sure to proselytize the word of Old Deadeye to the fey, aware that he's most likely annoying it. He also speaks loudly enough for the bandits to hear, hoping that their ears will be more open to the word.
"Upstairs," Stigr murmurs, clearly thinking about the possibilities of dealing with the fey. "I'm not fond of interrogations, but I'm competent enough in their principles. Though if anyone else wishes to attempt a friendlier approach, I welcome them to it first."
"A battle with trolls would be very dangerous," Stigr says. "They are nigh impossible to harm without the aid of fire, and there are several variants of the monsters. I would only consider allowing these bandits to come with us if they swear they will help, and if they understand that the first sign of betrayal will mean an arrow in their empty heads." He turns and stares into the eyes of Roknar. "And they will receive judgment under Erastil, if not the laws of Heldren."
Intimidate: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
"Yuln fares well, all things considered, Lady. He was wounded and suffered from the cold, but Erastil provides. He's being seen to in the village." Stigr stands by as she eats and drinks, then offers his arm to lead her upstairs. "Do you know anything of your captors, and those behind the bandits?"
Stigr steps forward into her view after stowing his axe. He bends down and tries to put on a smile for the woman. "Lady Argentae? I'm a countryman of your guard, Yuln Oerstag. I'm here with allies to free you." Stigr approaches her and crouches down, freeing her from any ropes using his knife. "You seem to have fared poorly, but Erastil's care is here. Would you like water, or food?" Stigr offers her any rations or creates water in his tankard if she likes.
Dropping his bow, Stigr draws his axe and grips it two-handed. Invoking a prayer to Erastil that he might smite these foes of community, he chops ferociously at the bandit with a shortbow. Free action to drop bow, move to draw axe, swift to activate judgment of destruction for a +1 to weapon damage rolls for the duration of the fight (or until I switch judgments)
Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
Derp, didn't even see the bandit tokens.
Stigr draws his bow and looses an arrow at the nearest bandit, hoping Erastil will guide his aim.
Attack: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 6 + 1 = 12
Stigr rushes to the sounds of the fight, drawing his bow and nocking an arrow as he does so. Double move down to near the fight. Sorry about the delay, I was sick. And there isn't much of a front-liner right now, to be sure; Stigr's a competent one right now, but he won't be in a few levels since his specialization is archery.
Stigr shakes his head. "He's now beyond my skill; Erastil has not granted me the power to heal. We'd best be off." He whispers some last rites again, this time in Common, and then slits the man's throat to end his life quickly rather than leaving him to the biting cold.
"Let's go." He wipes the dagger's blade in the snow and on the bandit's clothing, then returns it to its sheathe.
"I don't wish to cause such pain to the man, though he has proven himself a danger to community and an opponent of justice. He deserves a clean death or a speedy trial, perhaps, but he may yet serve the community in some small way."
That said, Stigr has his own qualms about the situation. Deadeye grant me wisdom to cope with these difficult times...
Heal: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
Stigr moves forward after Indras drops the man and again grabs the arrow, snapping it and ripping another bit of clothing to staunch any bleeding. He then kneels on the man's chest, one knee poised over an arrow wound and ready to press down. He also has his dagger in hand, and presses its point to the bandit's throat. "Let's try this again," he mutters in a low growl. Do we need to make Heal checks or such to rouse him, or will he come to in a moment like before?
Uhm, Stigr would not have wanted the bandit to be killed. Any way to interpose himself between that sword and the guy? I don't want to cause conflict or anything, but we might well have the chance to get something out of him. Any way to not have him dead before he can give information?
Stigr rips some of the man's clothing and presses it to the wound after snapping off the arrow's shaft--a remedy that is sure to cause pain, though not much further damage. He looks up to the others as the man starts to come to. "Do any of you wish to interrogate this wretch, or shall I?" He doesn't sound as though he greatly relishes the prospect, but he doesn't seem to care much, either.
I'm not fatigued, I'm fully healed from the earlier damage.
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14
Stigr quickly moves to the bandit he downed, hoping the man is alive and can answer questions.
Upon seeing a bandit, Stigr quickly draws and fires an arrow, stepping if need be to get a clear shot. Five-foot step if it helps reduce cover or the like, followed by an attack.
Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16+1 if within 30 ft.
Stigr grunts, then inhales and heaves a heavy sigh. "Indeed, he encourages community and peace between even disparate souls. I asked him for patience and guidance in these dark times, with enemies and with allies." The Prophet gives a second, smaller sigh and continues to walk with the group, also keeping his eyes and ears open.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13
Stigr stands up, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard and cold as the frozen fjords of his homelands. Erastil grant me patience, because if you give me strength, I'll just use it to break his jaw. "I'm ready."
Before the group heads out, Stigr performs another rite over the dead man, whispering a prayer to speed his soul on its way to the next world and thanking him for all his work in the community. Would that we had acted on his claims earlier.
Stigr would also be interested in the bow, but I don't need it. And I can make it work in-character...
Upon finding the farmer, Stigr immediately wondered if he knew the man...
The Prophet thinks for a moment, wondering if he should risk trouble by demanding the use of the bow. I am the Prophet of Erastil and the only holy man of Old Deadeye present, after all...
Then Indras makes his comment on keeping money, and Stigr frowns, his eyes hardening. "Gold and its fellows often cause more harm than good in the world, and they lead to suffering more oft than not. But if you wish me to be our moneykeeper, I'll do so. Keep in mind this, however: I am no Preacher. I'm merely the Prophet of my deity." With that, he snatches the pouch and ties it to his belt.
"Are we ready to move?"
Stigr also stows his axe in favor of drawing out his bow. He moves toward the body, his movements agile and surprisingly quick on the unstable surface--it seems to barely effect him. "Careful crossing--it's slippery," he calls.
Stigr grunts and moves over to the dropped creature. Setting his shield aside, he raises the axe in two hands and brings it down on the being's neck. (Coup de grace)
Damage: 3d8 + 9 ⇒ (3, 6, 4) + 9 = 22
He looks up after the business is settled, staring into the sky and whispering a Skald prayer to speed whatever soul may be going on its way.
"It's protecting the flock, Charlotte, guarding the community we've forged. But I'm glad to play my part." Stigr smiles and puts his shield back on his back. "Now where to?"