Male Dwarf Inquisitor of Torag 1 | HP 12 | AC 18/20 T 12 F 16/18 | F +5 R +2 W +3 | CMB +2 CMD 14 | Initiative +3 | Perception +9 | Speed 20 ft
Dot.
Male Dwarf Inquisitor of Torag 1 | HP 12 | AC 18/20 T 12 F 16/18 | F +5 R +2 W +3 | CMB +2 CMD 14 | Initiative +3 | Perception +9 | Speed 20 ft.
Kadur kept on hitting the shield with his hammer. It was his final test as apprentice before he could call himself a true armor smith. This would be his finest moment as a smith but he felt his thoughts wandering, would this be his future after 25 years of hard work and the occasional burn mark.
That prospect appeared less appealing each strike of his hammer. Of course creating armor and weapons out of raw steel was an honorable task but it didn’t feel as enough.
Even when he was being congratulated for finishing is apprenticeship he felt adrift.
While sitting at a local bar that evening he heard an older voice say young beard can I sit with you.
Sure take a seat. Kadur looked to his right an saw a very old dwarf with an smithing apron on slowly take a seat.
I see something is bothering you, maybe old Silverbeard can help ya.
He felt at ease with the old dwarf and told him his struggles.
The dwarf listened en nodded a couple of times while sipping a large mug of beer.
It seems you are faced with a decision, do the sensible thing and work hard at the forge and hammer out these feelings or maybe see if there is more in the world, explore, travel, meet new people and/or races. When you’re done seeing the world you can always return to the forge.
He put the mug to his mouth and emptied it.
I’m sorry but I have to go, forgot I had to pick up…. something, never mind it will come to me sooner or later.
Thanks for the drink and ya story.
Kadur said the man farewell and saw him leave the tavern. When he turned to face the bartender again he saw something shiny below the stool Silverbeard had sat on only moments ago.
He picked up the silver symbol and walked outside to give it back but Silverbeard was nowhere in sight.
When he examined the object in his hand he noticed the details on the silver hammer. He recognized the symbol as being the symbol of the dwarven god of the forge Torag.
The next day he went to the temple to return the item but they had never heard of a dwarf named Silverbeard or anyone fitting his description. He then searched around the local bars and taverns but still couldn’t find the old dwarf. After a full day of searching he found himself where he started that day, at the temple.
The priests invited him in to rest and asked if he would join them for dinner. It was the least they could do for someone trying to return a valuable object to his rightful owner.
After the dinner, filled with fine food and ale, the priests, one by one, started to tell amazing stories about their god Torag.
The next day Kadur awoke, invigorated and without doubt, he had found his calling, serving the god of the forge, protection and strategy Torag as one of his faithful.
|
You are in Absalom, the mighty City at the Center of the World, and you’ve always longed to explore one of the countless ruins of failed conquerors that litter the plains outside the city’s walls. Now, the Pathfinder Society is giving you that chance. A minor earthquake has recently opened on of the long-sealed siege towers and the Master of Scrolls, Aram Zey, has charged you with being the first to explore it. Your mission is simple; document the tower's interior, remove any monsters that might have taken up residence in the long-abandoned, dusty halls, and claim any ancient treasures that you might discover.
The ruined siege castle now being called the Fallen Fortress rises out of the churned earth of the Cairnlands. No doors or windows mar the otherwise smooth expanse of the tower’s walls. The tower is quatrefoil in plan; its eastern wing has largely collapsed, exposing the interior floors to the open air. Only the topmost level seems whole, though its eastern portion hangs precariously over the mountain of rubble left by the collapse. At ground level, the rubble frames a gaping hole in the side of the building that provides access to the tower’s darkened interior.
|
Yanking his finger out of his nose the alchemists points at the feral dogs. "Oh, look!" Misforstått exclaims gleefully, "I bet these animals would make excellent test subjects for my experiments!" And then he tosses a bomb at the middle puppy.
____________________________________________________________
|
|
Aurora misses her mark as her treant companion lumbers forward to attack the dogs. However, he misses as well.
Misforstatt throws a bomb that explodes right at the middle dog's feet, turning it into an almost-unidentifiable pile of flesh and fur. The other two dogs are caught in the explosion, and it's enough to send them running in fear. They flee back into the Cairnlands, stopping occasionally to roll in the dirt as they try to put out the fire that's consuming their fur.
|
|
As you climb to the top of the rubble, you catch your first look inside the tower. The northern wing of the tower seems to have escaped the worst effects of the collapse, but rubble still litters the floor and everything is covered in a thick layer of stone dust. Thick cobwebs cloak the ceiling and hang down the walls like gossamer tapestries. A single archway stands open in the southwest wall.
|
|
"Well done!" Arthrax exclaims to the alchemist, a grin on his face. "Let us be about the exploration of these ruins, shall we?"
Misforstått (who had resumed picking his nose, very deeply, after his 5-foot step) grins at Arthrax. "You're a nice man. I like you! Maybe we can be friends." Then he pulls out his finger and sticks out hand to offer the fighter a sincere, if disgustingly grimy, handshake.
Suddenly, without waiting for Arthrax to decide whether or not he would be willing to shake his hand, the Alchemist exclaims, "Oh! Before I forget, I should collect those burnt dog samples." Misforstått scrapes up bits of charred fur, flesh, and bone. After he shoves them into an empty vial, he notices some smeared dog goo on his hands and absentmindedly licks them "clean."
"Oh! Right! That was rude of me." He sticks out his hand again to share a handshake with the fighter. "Well met! And, thank you for the compliment, Sir Bellringer!"
____________________________________________________________
|
Arthrax silently thanks whichever god is listening that he is wearing gauntlets as he exchanges a handshake with the alchemist, pasting a smile on his face to hide the disgusted grimace threatening to pop up. He takes a look around, and will attempt to sift through some of the rubble while his companions orient themselves.
|
|
Misforstått attempts to aid the fighter in his inspection of the immediate vicinity.
However, the tiefling is far too distracted by the lint that he has started picking from his navel to notice anything else.
____________________________________________________________
|
|
"Ingenious device and uncanny accuracy"
"What? Who said that?" "Oh! The pretty Lady Sarephta is so gracious to acknowledge misbegotten Misforstått." He grins and moves to give her a hug. A single tear rolls down his right cheek as he mumbles, "First the gallant Sir Bellringer pays me a compliment. Now the angelkin deems me worthy of praise, as well. I love the Pathfinder Society!" The tiefling starts to weep with joy, barely noticing the river of nasal fluid now running down his face. He certainly doesn't bother to wipe his nose.
|
|
Misforstått seems crestfallen. "I understand," he says, still weeping openly. "That's what the staff at the orphanage told me growing up, too." His voice quivers, "And the nurses at the hospital where I earned my first scholarship... before they took it away." He seems wistful, "Who knew that you could be too ugly to be a doctor?" Moping, he heads a few squares west.
|
|
Arthrax looks at his crying companion with alarm. Thankfully the priestess had taken the brunt of it, but would this be the norm for this trip? He sighs inwardly, such was the luck of the draw. Whenever he moved up in the ranks he could pick and chooses who he went with, perhaps. The alchemist HAD been very effective with the dogs. Maybe that was it...just keep the man busy.
Male Dwarf Inquisitor of Torag 1 | HP 12 | AC 18/20 T 12 F 16/18 | F +5 R +2 W +3 | CMB +2 CMD 14 | Initiative +3 | Perception +9 | Speed 20 ft.
Silent Kadur was watching his ..... companions. How the prospect of adventure and the possibility of treasure could bring about such a different group of people.
Lets keep going, the sound could attract more predators.
Kadur walks to the entrance, looks inside
And if all is safe, steps inside with his shield and warhammer ready.
May Torag grant his strength and wisdom to us while exploring.
|
|
"More predators!" Misforstått perks up. "This could be an excellent opportunity to gather additional research specimens." He laughs with child-like glee. Unfortunately for his companions it sounds more like the muahaha of a villain punctuating evil exposition.
|
|
"The frilly man looks so pretty," Misforstått thinks to himself. How does he shoot his bow like that without rumpling his clothes?
"Well struck, Sir Arzanour," the Tiefling offers the cavalier.
To the party, the alchemist suggests, "Beware the creatures fangs. I suspect the green liquid on them is a poison that is meant to weaken its prey. We would do well to dispatch this vermin quickly, before it stymies us with its webbing."
|
|
Misforstått ponders what to do with a giant spider's carcass. How might this best serve his medical experimentation? Could he use the venom to make anti-toxin? Could he use the crushed and powdered chitin to relieve eczema? The possibilities could be... interesting...
"Stand back, friends," the tiefling warns, "this might get a little messy."
- Move Action: Draw another bomb.
- Swift Action: 5-foot step.
- Standard Action: Toss!
For a brief moment, Misforstått is stunned into silence by the sheer carnage of it all. There is no nose picking or navel lint gathering or anything! Then he begins to laugh and dance and cry with glee as bits of charred spider and webbing fall from the ceiling.
|
|
"That man is so darn pretty!" Misforstått thinks again. "Not only does his shirt remain unrumpled, but there's not even a hair out of place." Hoping vainly, the tiefling wonders, "Maybe, just maybe, if I used his tailor and stylist, the medical college would take me back." Then the alchemist remembers, "Oh, and I still have to finish paying off the damages to that building I burned down..."
"Thank you, Sir Arzanour," Misforstått replies. His response is slightly flat, as he was unable to find an intact eyeball. "Expeditious, efficient efficacy is ever my endeavor!"
He suddenly perks up, flashes a toothy grin revealing a chaotic jumble of teeth, and offers,. "Perhaps, after our adventure, I could share some of my research with you, in exchange for some fashion tips?"
Abruptly, seeing more detritus in the next room, he moves to investigate.