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The town of Torch has long enjoyed a singular claim to prosperity - a violet flame that burns atop Black Hill in the heart of town. This flame burns incredibly hot, and while it’s usually the size of a bonfire, several times a year the fires spew up into the heavens in a brilliant beam of purple violence. These are eruptions are presaged by about an hour of soft rumbling, giving nearby smiths a chance to retreat before the flames can consume them. At all other times, the violet energies allow for the smelting of all manner of skymetal. Torch is one of the only locations where Skymetal can be worked with relative ease outside of Starfall, and its entire economy has risen around these enigmatic purple flames, with traveling smiths coming from across Avistan to pay for the opportunity to work with them. Of course, Torch needs all the visiting trade and coin it can gather, for while the town’s distance from Starfall makes it inconvenient for the Technic League to maintain a permanent residence here, the taxes and tariffs it charges the Numerian town on a monthly basis are significant. The town prospers, but the bulk of its income does not belong to it.
Which is why, when the fires atop the hill suddenly go out, the town is in trouble.
It has been eight days since the town’s singular source of income has gone out; Later that day, Council Khonnir Baine discovered a series of previously-unknown caverns beneath Black Hill, accessible through a short underwater tunnel in the Weeping Pond, the town’s tainted water source. With a promised reward of four-thousand gold pieces to anyone who can rekindle the precious violet flame, the town saw no shortage of volunteers - at first. After four separate adventuring parties went missing beneath the caves, one lead by Councilor Baine himself, the town now finds itself with a lack of volunteers and a dwindling hope of ever rekindling their livelihood - and with the next shipment of the town’s taxes to the Technic League due soon, Torch may find itself in deep trouble.
Perhaps their hope lies in the newest band of rag-tag adventurers to grace the city; a band calling themselves Hoots’ Hellions. Perhaps, however, the Hellions will find themselves facing the same fate as the previous adventurers, and Torch’s last hope will die with them.
But first, the Hellions must meet with the councilmembers to let them know of their interest in taking the job, and it is here where their journey begins.
P A T H F I N D E R P R E S E N T S
Book I: Fires of Creation
Part 1: A Dying Torch
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As the Hellions make their way towards what is one of the grander buildings in the town, the Town Hall, with its large watch tower and marbled architecture, they find the town sullen, with an air of anxiousness and foreboding. Theres also the fact that the town has lost its primary source of waste disposal; As a result, filth has begun piling up in the streets and the smell of decay is growing.
Thankfully, they put the smell behind them as they enter the Town Hall, seeking an audience with the councilmembers. Inside, they find only a single one not off pursuing some other work or task: The oldest councilmember, Dolga Freddert. This dwarven woman, well into her 200th year, is surprisingly stout and muscular for her age, possessing a certain energy and alertness not often seen in one so old. At her side, hanging from her belt, is the weapon she’s so fond of, a gleaming adamantine warhammer imbued with magical enchantments.
As she sees the group, she raises one of her bushy gray eyebrows at the odd assortment of newcomers; a burly orc who appears so dimwitted as to have gorged himself on Numerian Fluids, a sour-faced dwarf bearing the symbol of Gorum, what appears to be a humanoid owl wearing a brown poncho and matching wide-brimmed hat, and a small, slight and dainty-looking Kellid woman with an ornate walking stick. Beside her walks a white tiger, easily as big as she is.
”Well, s~##, what’ve we here? You the newest volunteers I been hearing about, eh? Got to say, didn’t believe the rumors of just how damn rag-tag you were. Heard there was a dwarf travelin’ with an orc travelin’ with a gun-totin’ bird, but with the troubles and headaches as of late, I figgur’d they were far-fetched. Guess my ass I was wrong, eh? Well, welcome to Torch, as best of a welcome as we can give ya, considerin’ the troubles. Sorry the rest o’ the Councilors can’t be here to greet ya; Ol’ Kyte and Otterbie are coordinatin’ ways to get rid of all the s*~#s thats been pilin’ up, while Olandir’s been nursin’ a headache she’s had for the past three days. And of course I don’t need ta tell you about Baine, who’s gone an’ got himself missing down beneath the Hill. So, all you’ve got is me - Dolga Freddert, at yer service.”
Despite her foul language and rough demeanor, the dwarf shakes each of the group’s hands, friendlier than one might expect, though her iron grip leaves a painful sensation afterwards.
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Groog made his way through the town with a look of childlike glee splayed over his orcish features. His eyes were gleaming at the sight if every sparkling bit of metal worked into such wonderful and strange ways.
He heard a pair of folks talking. Their conversation does something very dangerous. It made Groog think.
Stoopid Dorfs. Go drink stoopid goo. Why drink goo? His Dorf no stoopid. He no drink goo. But goo make one Dorf strong? Maybe Groog drink goo. Get strong like his Dorf. Dorf friend. Hoots friend. Lady friend. Groog no let drink goo. Who this Dorf lady? She smart Dorf too. Big words. Hurt ear. What hurt ear?
Groog reaches up and scratches at his ear. Whatever it is he finds, he inspects it thoroughly, sniffing at it before reaching to his belt and raking it off on the inside of the strap.
Groog hears her conclude her lecture with another long sentence, but picks up that she says that "they've got her."
Groog gets a silly grin on his face and scoops her up in a big hug.
"Groog like Dorf Lady! Groog got Dorf! Groog got Dorf Lady! Groog happy!"
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Dahlia hated the Town Hall, it was a boring place with stodgy old people trying to boss you around. She'd much rather be in Khonnir laboratory tinkering with one of the electronic locks he'd procured over the years, or tearing apart that robot he found, or out in the wilderness, or exploring the caves Khonnir found, or tracking down that purple-haired lady, who might just be one of the fey. Really, she'd rather be damned near anywhere but seeking approval from these old codgers.
Even worse, her companions were... not bad, per se, but when you hear the stories of adventurers who save the world it was knights in shining armor, cunning rogues, beautiful sorceresses, deadeyed archers, and priests wielding the awesome power of their god. While beautiful sorceress was covered, for the rest she had an orc who could barely outthink a mule, a dwarf with an attitude problem, and an oversized owl with a pistol fetish. But she'd have to make due. At least she had Snow.
Actually arriving at the Hall was worse than thinking about it. Of course the only Councillor would be Dolga, that old hag. The grumpy old dwarf had threatened her with that magical hammer on more than one occasion. She never seemed to understand that you had to practice on different locks all the time or your skills would rust like a key in a pond. Oh well, she'd just play it off and hope the old bag didn't notice that she was Khonnir Baine's other apprentice.
Just as she was about to speak, Groog once again proved that he'd have a hard time in a match of wits against a cow. He was manhandling the councillor. In Town Hall. Rolling her eyes, she covered her face with her hand, collected herself, and set about to salvage the metting.
"Groog, you big green oaf, put down the Councillor," Dahlia says in an exasperated tone.
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Groog looks at Lady with a confused look on his face. He had just got Dorf Lady. Now he had to give her up.
He sets the councillor down with a pouting expression.
Lady never let him keep pets. Except Hoots. And Dorf. And Lady. Lady mean. Lady bossy.
"Oh, don't pout," Dahlia says, continuing in a scolding tone. "If you want to pick up the Councillor, you have to ask her first. Though I'd advise against it at the moment." Turning to Dolga, Dahlia inclines her head and speaks in an apologetic tone, "Please forgive Groog, Councillor Freddert, he's half the sense of a horse when it come to social situations, or really any situation." Hoping to turn the Dolga's attention away from the rough treatment she just recieved, Dahlia immediately moves to the matter at hand. "Is there anything other than the rumors about town that we need to know before we go into the cave?"
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Vallan might be taken at first for a short, fat man if seen from behind. He's a good five inches taller than the average dwarven male, and is stout as a barrel. His long, blonde beard and hair are mostly messy and unkempt. He wears minimal beard ornamentation compared to many of his race, just a single iron ring holding the bottom end together. Vallan's face is craggy and scarred, not totally ugly, but by no means attractive. He is dressed for adventure in his spiked scale mail armor, with his greatsword and pack on his back.
When he comes into sight of Dolga he exclaims, "Torag's testicles! Gorum's gonads! They dinnae tell me we was coming ter meet a bloody nymph! I'd 'ave worn me looser britches were I tae 'ave known the council woman 'ad power to erect a stone pillar between me legs!"
He grabs his crotch in mock agony. "Wowzahs! Forget the bloody feckin' caves, what can Ah do tae service you, luv?"
Oh yeah, I'll be minin' them crevices for days, and flossin' me teeth innae brambles. Who needs a purple flame when you got the...-censored for other player's sanity-
”Well bend granddaddy over and f~$& ‘em twice, I’ve never seen a friendly orc before - last time one gave me a hug, he was tryin’ to strangle the life outta me - gave ‘em a good wack with the ol’ hammer, and he learned his lesson.” The dwarf reels a bit when put down after her bear-hug, her old body not quite used to being lifted so quickly, squeezed, then plopped back on the ground. She seems no worse for wear, however. After Vallan speaks, she lets out a great roar of laughter. ”Hah! Well now, its been a while since anyone’s said THAT to me! Were I a hundred years younger, I’d show you how I could erect more than a little pillar, laddy!” she shakes her head, smiling. ”Nah, got too much ‘desk ridin’ to do already, what with the other councilors busy. If it weren’t for so much paperwork an’ hearin’ of complaints, I’d have gone down to the caves beneath Black Hill meself. Perhaps another dwarf in me place will suffice then, eh?”
She looks at the group, examining them more closely; it is then she recognizes Dahlia, after having been thoroughly distracted with the other three oddities in the group. ”Ah Dahlia, didn’t see ye thar! Good ta see you’ve finally got some sense into tha’ head o’ yers and decided ta go help out ol’ Baine and the town. Ah lets see, ‘bout tha caves..”
Dolga cracks her neck loudly as she walks over to one of the tables and picks up some notes, though must put on her spectacles before she can read them. ”Baine found the soddin’ caves after havin’ found footprints on the pond’s banks; He had gone thar to test the water, makin’ sure it hadn’t gone more toxic due to the loss o’ tha flame. Sure ‘nuff, he followed tha ‘prints and found himself the cave beneath it; Two other adventurin’ parties went in before ‘em; a group o’ halflin’s callin’ themselves Desna’s Desperados went in’ first, followed a day later by a group o’ thugs from the Ropefist Gang. Neither came out.” She shuffles the paper she was examining, finding her next set of notes, grumbling at the disorganized mess. ”Baine went in the next day with his first expedition; He reported several enormous vermin and other scavengers, along with a small tribe of humanoids with the ability to blend into the shadows. And then there were the gremlins; But most curious was the solid wall of metal he found, said it was made out of a skymetal alloy called Glaucite, like the stuff we been minin’ from the hills and surroundin’ plains. He only poked his head inside and brought back the metal machine he’s currently keepin’ in his home behind the Foundry Tavern. That was his first expedition; He had planned on goin’ deeper into the metal wall on his second trip, but who knows how far he got?”
Standing six inches smaller than the dwarf (and with a third of his girth), Hoots nonetheless swaggers into the massive council room as though he owns it.
At Vallan's outburst, the owlman rolls his eyes and puts his hand on the randy dwarf's shoulder. His voice is a slow, gravelly drawl. "Easy pardner. Don't get me wrong, I get it. Mating season's almost over for me this year too, and I haven't rubbed my cloaca against another Tengu's yet. Keep those silly external genitals of yours in your pants for a bit longer though. How long has it been since we got a good job?"
Turning his head, he sees that while he was talking to Vallan, Groog had picked up the councilwoman.
"Groog, thank you for putting her back. We've talked about this before: Let's make friends slowly. Always ask before you squeeze someone."
Turning to face Councilwoman Freddert, he says "Apologies for Groog, he's really just full of love. And speaking of love, you're welcome to mate with Vallan here of course, and I won't judge Dwarves for mating rituals I don't understand, but before you do let's discuss this fine pickle Torch is in.
"Ah reckon you'll look back on the day you first laid eyes on Hoots' Hellions as one of your greatest...and not just because of the presence of another dwarf in heat."
Pausing to spit out a bit of tobacco chew, he says, "They call me Straight Shootin' Hoots Magaw. These here are my associates: Groog, Dahlia, and Vallan. Ah reckon we'll be able to rekindle that sky fire of yours in a jiffy. We may be a bit irregular, but you can bet that sweet hammer of yours we'll get the job done."
"Why don't you all just have a damned orgy?" Dahlia says, rolling her eyes. The young sorceress makes a visible effort to regain her composure and continues, "Anyway, is there anything in particular we need to do before we go into those caves, or are we good?"
"Ah suppose Ah have one more question as well.
"Ah hear tell of headaches, somethin' powerful 'round here -- like gettin' whacked on the head with a musket barrel after bein' f*cked with a bottle of Fire Ale. Hear it might have some'in to do with fellas tampering with the water o'er at Crowfeather Palace. That mean anything to ya?"
Groog was so confused at all the talking going on. He furrows his brow as his mind tries to take it all in.
Why Lady not want Dorf Lady friend? Why Dorf Lady call his Dorf Lady? What apawlojees for Groog mean? Hoots say a lot. What that?
He slowly, thinking he is being sneaky, makes his way over to the table and bends down inquisitively looking at something on the top of it.
It soon becomes clear that what has caught his eye is an inkwell of elaborate design. He slowly and carefully raises a hand to poke at it. He had learned to be careful poking at things. Some things don't like to be poked.
After nudging it with his finger a couple of times, he picks it up and sniffs at it, and turns it round and round in his hand. Eventually, he manages to turn the thing onto its topside, the lid falling to the table with a clatter, ink running through his hands and onto the table and papers below.
He quickly drops it in a panic, the ink running into his hands and fingers startling him.
The dwarf shakes her head, ”Don’t believe half of the rumors flyin’ around.. Tha’ waters still as tainted as Urgathoa’s piss, but tha Crowfeather Palace is running safe and sound, Kyte’s made sure o’ it. Don’t know whats causin’ the headaches, but if ye feel like it, go pay a visit ta Olandir fer a check up, if its tha’ important ta ye.” Too busy looking through her papers and thinking about the issue at hand, she pays no note to Groog causing trouble. ”Tha’s all about the caves we know about. Before ye head there, go find Kyte down at the Temple of Brigh, he’ll set ye up with a spell for breathing water, so ye can get through tunnel without worries. An’ I’ve got some writs ‘ere -” She turns to the table and sees the mess Groog made. ”Well, nevermind that. I HAD some writs ‘ere that would’ve gotten ye a 20% discount at any vendor in town; Yer gonna have ta wait a day or two before I can a few more written up, now that yer friend has.. ah.. poured ink everywhere. Ya sure he shouldn’t be on a leash or somethin’? “
Groog notes all the angry glares being cast his way by his pets. He didn't want them to think he messed anything up for them. He looked around nervously, and then pointed an ink covered finger at Snow.
"He probably should be on a leash, but I don't think it would help," Dahlia says. "None of us are strong enough to hold him back anyway."
Turning to the orc, she fixes him with a glare and says, "Don't blame it on Snow, we all saw it. Now, go clean your hands, you're not in trouble."
"Ack! If I kinnae battle yer nethers m'lady, I suppose I'll 'ave ter battle whatever metallic horrors might be pluggin' the town's fiery bunghole," Vallan mutters, disappointed. He watches dumbfounded as the orc ruins their employee discount. "GROOG! Ye daft donkey turd! Dinnae touch anything!" he bellows. Vallan tries to smack the back of the dwarf's head, but can't reach and hits the middle part of his back instead. This f*$+ing tusker better be as good in battle as the wee owl says, or I'll make sure he never comes back from them caves...
”Well, best ya get to it then; Faster ya get the torch rekindled and Khonnir found, faster ye get paid and faster the town can get back to business. Oh, but one las’ thin’ before ye go; Dahlia, Val has gone and closed the Foundry Tavern until her father’s back; She’s promised anyone who plans on adventurin’ down into the caverns a place to sleep in the Tavern. All alone as she is, ye might want ta go stop an’ let her know yer plannin’ on takin’ a wack at the troubles. But make sure these sods don’ lay a finger on her - they do, an I’ma take their cocks and smash ‘em on one o’ Baine’s anvils with me Hammer. Now, off ye go!” She waves the group away and gets started on cleaning up Groog’s mess.
"Will do, m'lady," Vallan says with a grin. "Tae the Foundry! We'll let the lass know what we're about, and then it's off tae glorious battle!" he says to his companions. The dwarf turns towards the door and makes shepherding motions with his hands, not so subtly urging them on. It's been days since Ah 'ad a proper fight. Hopefully one o' them wankers in the bar will try somethin' funny.
Groog wipes his hands across the front of his armor to clean them like Lady said. He then picks up Hoots and follows along behind the others.
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As they make their way to the Foundry Tavern, a very innovative name for the Foundry-Tavern that it is, Hoots escapes Groog’s clutches, his feathers ruffled but no worse for wear. After a short walk, they find themselves nearing the three buildings that make up the Foundry Tavern; The foundry, a large stone building with a massive window on the roadside, allowing for those outside to see the demonstrations going on inside; The tavern, a squat stone building residing next to its name-brother, a building usually so packed its hard to find a table; and Khonnir’s house, yet another stone house, resting behind the other two.
With the group nearing the complex, they suddenly hear a piercing scream coming from Khonnir’s home behind the Foundry Tavern; It sounds like Val!
"Eh?" Vallan says at the scream. After a brief moment of thought, he then says "EY!" Motioning the others to follow, he draws his greatsword and sprints off towards Khonnir's house at top dwarven speed. Hold on lass, Ah'm a coming!
Groog hustles behind Vallan.
Lost Dorf Lady. No lose Dorf!
After skidding to a halt in front of the house's door Vallan pauses for a moment to asses the situation. He scans the building visually and listens for any more noises from within.
If he doesn't see anything, he steps up to the door and "knocks" on it loudly by kicking it several times. he bellows through the door. If'n someone's a rapin' it's about set teh rain b~+%+$&s on Khonnir's floor!
Hoots breaks into a sprint. He grabs his hat with one hand to keep from losing it, while the other raises his trusty pistol.
As the group nears the Baine household, they can easily hear crashing and mayhem going on inside; The entire building seems to shake, though the noise seems to be coming from the eastern side of the building. The doors appear unlocked, but no one answers Vallan’s yelling.
Dorf want smash door? Dorf do wrong. Groog show.
Groog drops the pack Hoots gave him and walks towards the door. He then forcefully kicks the door, causing wood to splinter in several places. He then looks at Vallan with a silly grin expecting praise.
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Seeing that his pets all have readied their weapons, Groog grabs his axe, then heads on to the next door towards the mayhem.
Pets want play. Yay! Groog like play!
He kicks the door, but does not splinter like the other. He curls his brow as he glares at the offending slab of wood.
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Vallan shakes his head at Groog, steps in behind him and tries to open another one of the doors (with his hand and the handle).
Groog looks at Vallan confused. The dwarf clearly did not understand how to smash things.
He kicks the door again, only mattering to rattle its hinges.
"OPEN STUPID DOOR! RAAAAGGGGGHHHH!!" he bellows as he lowers his shoulder and barrels through.
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Seeing nothing in his room, or the one that Hoots just opened Vallan says to Groog, "The handle, ye daft tusker! Turn the bloody handle!"
Hoots and Vallan each open doors to various bedrooms; Neither are occupied, though the smaller of the two looks to be the room of a young girl. Meanwhile, Groog, despite Vallan’s protests, smashes through another door. He ends up in a short hallway leading to what appears to be the dining room; Directly in front of him is another door that leads into some sort of storage room; As Groog smashes through his own door, the door to the storeroom bursts open, revealing a hulking metal monstrosity lumbering around and breaking things; The machine stands 5 feet tall and appears to be made of a gray and white metal-like substance. Its three spidery legs allow it to navigate over the broken rubble and debris with ease, but it moves jerkingly, as if drunk, making loud, tortured grinding noises as it does so. Its torso, arms, and head are vaguely humanoid, with one blazing ‘eye’ in the center of head and four-fingered hands on each arm. Bits and pieces of its chassis are missing, revealing curious wiring within.
Without provocation, it lunges at the group!
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"What in the nine hells?! DIE ROBOT!" Vallan roars, before realizing he has no where to go. Roaring in frustration, he kicks the wall. "Move it feather-farts! There's battle tae be had!"
The feathered pistolero takes a sharp breath in when he sees the raging robot but doesn't waste a moment.
Aiming around Groog's hulking form, Hoosible feels for a second like his gun is about to misfire...but his glorious destiny kicks in and he manages to nail the robot in what he thinks of as its shoulder.
"Aight, pardners! I guess we're in business. Groog, knock that thing back if you can so Vallan can get in!"
With that he backs up to make more room.
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Groog jumps in alarm at the sudden appearance of something else playing Smashy Smashy. He grins and says, "My turn!" and swings his axe as hard as he can into the thing.
"GORRRRUMMMMMMMMMMMM!" Vallan bellows, charging right through Groog, and knocking him aside in the process. He lowers a shoulder and rams it right into the robot-thing, trying to barrel completely over it in the process. He slams hard into its metal exterior, bouncing off with a loud clang. The dwarf nearly tumbles over backwards as he stumbles back from the thing's weight. Groog vaults lightly over him as Vallan comes to a skidding halt behind the orc.
FAILSAUCE
"What in the nine hells?! DIE ROBOT!" Vallan roars, before realizing he has no where to go. Roaring in frustration, he kicks the wall. "Move it feather-farts! There's battle tae be had!"
The feathered pistolero takes a sharp breath in when he sees the raging robot but doesn't waste a moment. Aiming around Groog's hulking form, Hoots feels for a second like his gun is about to misfire...but his glorious destiny kicks in and he manages to nail the robot in what he thinks of as its shoulder.
"Aight, pardners! I guess we're in business. Groog, knock that thing back if you can so Vallan can get in!" With that he backs up to make more room.
Groog jumps in alarm at the sudden appearance of something else playing Smashy Smashy. He grins and says, "My turn!" and swings his axe as hard as he can into the thing, cutting deep and causing a wave of electricity to erupt from the machine; thankfully, Groog pulls his axe away from the arcing shock and avoids getting burnt.
”Groog! Stop destroying the house!” Dahlia moves in behind the chaotic group and sighs as she sees the damage. Unable to get anywhere near the malfunctioning robot, and without spells that can affect it, she heads into Val’s room and looks around for the young girl.
The machine, for its part, attempts to take a whack at Groog, but misses entirely, thanks to its jagged and grinding movements.
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(Miss)
Groog rears his axe back over his head, cackling with childlike glee as he buries the blade of it in the thing's head.
He then turns and looks at Vallan, a silly grin on his face.
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With one final swing and a giggle of insane mayhem, Groog buries his axe deep into the machine’s torso; though it gives one last jolt of electricity, which Groog barely avoids, it stops moving and the light from its great, central eye fades.
The commotion over, a young girl of no more than 14 crawls out from underneath the dining room table, her eyes wide at the carnage. ”Is it.. is it dead?” She spies Dahlia and runs over and gives the woman a hug for saving her. ”I had heard noises coming from the room and I went and checked up on it.. and it lunged at me! So I screamed, slammed the door in its face, then hid.”
"You did good Val," Dahlia says with a smile at the younger girl. "Khonnir'd kill me if anything happened to you. Sorry I wasn't here, we were talking to Dolga about going into the caves to rescue your father."
Groog sees the little girl crawl out and holds his arms open expecting a hug. He gets a little sad when she runs past him, though, hugging Dahlia instead. He walks over Nd kneels down, and says, "I Groog."
Groog happy! Groog win Smashy Smashy, Groog make Dorf happy. Groog find Little Lady. Groog luckiest ever!
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”You’re.. you’re going to save father? How do you know you won’t disappear like him? He’s a great wizard! You’re.. you’re just.. “ she shakes her head, especially upon seeing the massive frame of an orc kneeling down in front of her. He’s big. And scary. Is he going with you? If he and the dwarf.. and the uh..” she looks at Hoots. ”Um.. bird..? If they need a place to stay, they can sleep in the Tavern. I can cook for them too! Just.. just make sure you find father, ok? And don’t get lost yourselves!”
Though just a few years younger than Dahlia, Val seems quite a few years less mature; Although an apprentice to Khonnir in the ways of wizardry, she has yet to master even a single spell, and Dahlia is ages ahead of her in her magical ability.
Groog couldn't follow most of what the child was saying, but he did catch "save father." He didn't know what "father" meant, but he did know save. He looks at the little girl, and says, "Groog save fahdah, Lil' Lady no cry."
He then scoops her up in a hug.
As he hugs the little girl, he scowls over Dahlia's shoulder, his eyes set directly on something behind her.
...the troublesome doorframe.
"Oh, right, this," Dahlia says, indicating the orc, "is Groog. He's as vacuous as he is big, but he won't try to hurt you." As Groog picks Val up, and Dahlia says, "Remember what we said about asking before picking up?"
She continues, assuming Groog will listen to her and pointing at the gun toting aasitengumar, "That is Hoots, and that is Vallan," she finishes pointing to the horny dwarf.
Grog sets the little girl down and says, apologetically, "Groog hug?"
Without waiting for an answer, he scoops her up again.
Vallan just grunts at the girl, when he's introduced not wanting to scare her off with his gruff manner. "Thank'ee for the offer lassie. Ah'll be acceptin' it." Damned orc! Made meh look like a greenhorn b*~%!! I'll hae ta practice pushing past his overgrown green arse...
"Anything in here that might help us rescue your Papa, lassie?" Vallan asks, beginning to look around before she can answer, as if he has every intention of taking anything useful that he finds whatever she might say.
Hoots takes off his hat and bows slightly. "Happy we were able to be of service, Miss Baine."
"And thank you for your offer. We'll drop anything we don't need in our rooms at the Tavern. Then -- unless you have something that you think can help us -- we'd best be off."
To his companions, he says, "Good work, Groog. Vallan, don't be too hard on yourself. You'll get the hang of it."
Groog heard Hoots say some phrase he said a lot that meant it was time to go. Groog put the little girl down and turns and moves towards Hoots, reaching to pick up the bird man.
”No, Father took all of his supplies with him when he went down into the caves, said he’d be back in less than a day, but wanted to make sure he was prepared. Please find him! Hopefully he’ll be alright.. but I heard Old Kyte saying they’ve got a scroll ready to bring him back from the dead if they have to, so just bring him back, even if he’s not!”
She does her best not to cry, and although her eyes get watery, she holds them back. She gives Dahlia one last hug and even goes to give Groog one last hug, as big and scary as he is, though she can only reach his massive leg.