No worries. If you get a chance, go ahead and shift it to inactive once you've given a few days for everyone to read these posts. I'm more than happy to join up again if you decide to start up again down the road. Just send me a PM.
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"Aye, those little devils are terrible. Ran into a few of them myself when crossing through Varisia. They say they are thick as the northern gnats in Arodus down in Isger."
Good luck with finals Kaelyn!
"I surely thought you were telling tales Kaelyn, but you are serious. Mother of Monsters or Grandmother Nightmare, she and her followers are renowned for trouble...generally not of any sort most would want to be associated with. Tell us of how you came to be in her service."
Somehow, the strange mix of companions begins to grow on Úlfarr as the evening continues. Perhaps it is the mead. He smiles in response, "My adventures certainly did...in a drinking hall at least."
Black Úlfarr listens quietly and somewhat incredulously, wondering if Kaelyn is telling the truth or a tale.
"Poor lad would've probably gotten himself killed out there anyway..."
"Sure, I'll start." Someplace along the way Black Úlfarr has managed to come by a new mug of the warmed mead and starts into it as he begins. "I'm sure you can tell I come from the Lands of the Linnorm Kings, far north of here." At his feet, the two wolves stir a bit, hearing their master's voice speaking of home. "Like you, I've had some "family business" and mine drove me from home. I was born to Clan Rúnólfr and the blood of the wolf runs a little differently in me than my brothers." Knowledge (History) DC 25 or perhaps a Knowledge (Local) DC 20 if you've spent time up that way:
A legendary clan from the rugged interior of Aegos in the Linnorm Kingdom of Broken Bay. They have a dire reputation for harboring natural lycanthropes and were thought to be merely old tales until King Ingimundr claimed the crown of Broken Bay and brought them into his service. "We had a falling out and I left the clan to pledge service to Jarl Aerlfin and Clan Arngrim when he sought men to go a viking. Surtr and I were part of a boat that made a number of successful raids, but when we returned to Bildt, we found that while we were gone the Jarl had died and we were no longer welcome in the new Jarl's service." He takes a long drink of mead as you can see him thinking back to those times. "Surtr and I left the islands then and headed for the mainland. Fought for some other jarls looking to become kings and eventually made our way through other lands. Even fought with the Shoanti against the orcs where an old shaman told us Bleikr was looking for us...but that's another story. Worked as guards for a Varisian caravan making the run across the Hold to Freedom Town and then worked in Vigil before realizing that they prefer their warrior to work for faith instead of coin. So, we headed south after hearing that Nirmathas needed men to fight against Molthune. That's how we ended up here."
Since Black Úlfarr is a whopping Int of 8 and Wis of 10, I'm trying not to pick at the story too close, but seeing those same holes :)
"Sure, maybe I'm just slow, but let me see if I've pieced this together. You and Thrif part ways and somehow he ended up with this family heirloom of yours. Eventually, you wind up getting chased and end up here where you start to pick up his trail. Now you want us to help you find him in the Fangwood starting with finding this local spellcaster or family of them."
Black Úlfarr watches bemusedly as Jericho works Vecil for the coin. "Now all you have to do is find a woman Jericho." He takes another sip of the warm mead when a short, sharp bark sounds from the entrance to the inn. "Ah, there would be mine." The Ulfen man tips his chair back forward and walks over to the door. He opens it to a blast of snow and a smaller pure white wolf slips in and immediately bolts over to the table. "Hope you had a happy hunt Bleikr." he comments as he sits back down. From under the table you hear the crunch of small bones snapping. "Now, where were we? Yes, Thrif. You don't know who he was looking for here in town? Perhaps we should ask."
"So, what's your friend's name and did your sources give you any names he might have been meeting with?"
A lot more than I ever made going a viking or as a mercenary. Black Úlfarr nods, "Sounds like a reasonable offer. Surtr and I are in as well." The wolf lifts its head from where it sits at the Ulfen man's feet, then rolls over to offer its belly to the fire. "Have to say I've been at least a little curious about the wood's reputation. Now I get to see for myself."
That should be an interesting mix. I love the court bard. I've also toyed with a cleric concept that uses the evangelist archetype with negative energy (and the imperious bloodline via Eldritch Heritage) so it will be interesting to see how your combo plays out.
Ha, thanks for the heads-up. The reverse order of things screwed me up and I hadn't even thought to look at the Discussion tab yet :) Anyway, thanks for the opportunity to resurrect a character who was part of a PbP that the GM had to end early. This seemed like a good home for him. I am not familiar with Maure Castle at all beyond having heard of it. I've heard good things, but no specifics. It would be great to get a chance to play it. Hope you're ok with the Houndmaster archetype for the Cavalier. That's how Black Úlfarr was originally conceived, but I'll come up with another plan for him if you don't care for it. Will actually be interesting to see how that plays out at 5th level instead of 1st. Very much looking forward to this!
"I agree with Kaelyn. The Fangwood has a foul reputation. In addition to her question, you're sure its the north wood and not the south, correct?"
Black Úlfarr smiles in response to Zwain's observation and Vecil's response, "Aye, that is a tale to top all of ours. Let's have it while we wait out the storm."
"Might be interested. Surtr and I came down this way to see about things in Nirmathas. We skirted the Fangwood on our way down here because of the wood's reputation, but that was just the two of us. With two or three more? Perhaps. I've found it useful to have companions at my side when facing strange places in the past."
Black Úlfarr leans back and takes another drink in response, "Aye Vecil, perhaps a tale of my home, eh? It is fit for a night like tonight and then perhaps we shall speak of what you seek in the Fangwood." He almost spits the final word and you see his hand involuntarily rise to touch the holy symbol of Gorum that circles his throat. "Have you heard of the isbjörn, Vecil? The great northern bears? White as fresh fallen snow, but with all the rage of the demons that haunt Lost Sarkoris. It was a night even more bitter cold than you emerged from. A band of young Ulfen warriors had beached a karvi on the icy shore, led by a pair of hardened huscarls. They only sought shelter for the night and one of the huscarls led a pair of the youths out to scout a sheltered hollow to spend the night. The wind was fierce and howled with the fury of the wendigo. They had been gone only a short time when a worse sound rent the night. Men screaming in pain and horror. In the soft lands of the south...no offense Jericho...the rest of the men might have returned to the karvi and looked for a safer harbor. But, these men were Ulfen and do not abandon their clansmen. The rest of the men readied their weapons and headed out into the blasts of snow. They hadn't gone far when the shape of a man appeared from a respite in the snow. The huscarl stumbled out of the storm, an arm torn from his body and terrible wounds covering his neck and shoulder. He fell at their feet, but not before breathing warning of the isbjörn. The men pushed forward and there over a mound of snow stood the terrible creature. It was large as one of the houses here in Three Pines Ford and it's head alone was large as the four of us. Below the isbjörn lay the broken and bloody bodies of the missing clansmen. Spotting the newcomers, the beast let out a sound that would freeze the blood of most men, but the living huscarl order the men to surround the monster. The battle was terrible. The first man to reach the isbjörn was torn in two, but it left an opening for the others and they attacked with sword, spear, flail, and jaws. Aye, jaws. For one of the most fearsome warriors that night was a vargr, not unlike my friend Surtr. Before the end, two more of the clansmen lay bleeding on the snow and ice, but the isbjörn too had fallen. That night, the men and vargr feasted well and drank to the memories of their fallen clansmen. The next day the head of the isbjörn was mounted to the prow of the karvi. In days to come, that head would prove to possess a powerful magic of its own. But that is a tale for another day."
"Aye, I think the fairy tale endings are best left to the fey...and I'm not sure even their endings are all that happy. Best a man can hope for is good food and good women like our Kaelyn here." Úlfarr pauses for a moment and downs another sip of the mead. "This is Three Pines Ford, but you could have probably knew that already. Won't find another town on the Lastwall side of the river till Roslar's Coffer and that can't really be called a town anymore. You bound for someplace in Lastwall or Nirmathas?"
"Aye, join us and we can swap some lies while we stay warm here by the fire. I'm Black Úlfarr." As he raises a mug of the warmed mead to his lips, you can see the hood covers a full heads of unruly black locks. The man has clearly seen some fighting in his day with a couple of old scars on his weather-beaten face.
From another table near the fire, an Ulfen man wearing a hooded black cloak looks up to observe the newcomer. At his neck, a heavy bronze wolf's-head brooch fastens the cloak in place. Under it, you can see the glint of a polished chain shirt. His quilted tunic is dark with gold trim. At his feet, the head of a sleek, black wolf pops up when the pack hits the floor. It's eyes reflects the red and gold of the fire. It's fur is thick, mostly black, but with an amber brindling on the head, neck and chest. You see the man reach his hand down to the wolf's head and a moment later it returns to its prior position. The Ulfen man acknowledges the newcomer. "Snowing harder out there, eh? Looks like a night to remind me of home."
This is GenCon week, so I expect to be unable to post Wed-Sun. Please GM NPC as needed to keep things moving.
Yeah, add me to that crazy list right now. A break will be fine. Cya in this one when you're ready.
Surtr moves a step forward to make room for his master. Continuing to retch, from the nasty bath, Black Úlfarr attempts to make his own way onto the ship succeeding in forcing down the bile, he manages to crawl up onto the ship.
Surtr snaps at the foe at his side, but misses while going for the legs.
Did it look like This :)
Ha, you're right about that. I know a few rum gremlins that would love to help out.
I think they had a pretty serious outage today. I had problems too. They didn't even have the maintenance goblins up.
Úlfarr takes a full bucket right on the head and turns his mouth to the side before throwing up his least meal while Surtr dances between the buckets effortlessly. Stubborn about continuing, he attempts to help launch Surtr up to the deck by cupping his hands to help the wolf leap onto the ship.
Behind him, Surtr springs forward, attempting to use his master's hands to launch onto the ship.
"Hah, yes, this looks to be a worthy battle. Surtr, trouble ahead!"
"We left them those that dive for the pearls, seems to me they have what they need to continue diving. But its too late now. Let's get back out to sea." Black Úlfarr sits back down on the bench and Surtr spins for a moment before settling in front of him.
"What do you mean Kjell? Was there another place we missed? What did they say?"
We sent Black Úlfarr and Sutr around the back to make sure no one tried to duck out. But, we're all reunited now.
I'll post for Ulfarr once we're reunited, but he's going to look dimly on leaving pearls for the Varisians when they could dive for more.
Black Úlfarr and Surtr watch the back, looking and listening for trouble.
Hearing Gyfir, Black Úlfarr and Surtr slip around the back of the building, looking for an exit to block.
"I agree Gylfir, let's go ashore!"
Black Úlfarr sets a hand on scruff of Surtr's neck whispering, "Easy Surtr, quiet for now." He continues to watch as the karvi approaches the boat.
"I would rather seek known trouble, like the axes and swords of a village or boat, than these strange yellow blooms."
"Aye, thank you Gylfir. I have heard many tales over the years, but had you told me that before we left, I'm not sure I would have believed you."
Black Úlfarr pauses in his help preparing for the storm and moves over toward Jorlief and Gylfir, "What do you all see over there? Shouldn't we be helping get ready for the storm?"
Yes, I'm fine with it slow too. Tons of pitches going on at work right now and then PaizoCon right in the middle of them all.
"Aye, I too would make for the island. I'm more used to the karvi than I was when we started, but I'd prefer not to get caught in the storm if we can avoid it."
No worries. My apologies for an absence from some games myself. Working to get back in the swing of things Its been a bit nuts lately.
Black Úlfarr takes little interest in most of the plunder, but considers the smith's hammer. "Gylfir, you struck the telling blow on the smith, but if you do not want his weapon, I might carry it for a time. He seemed a brave man, if strange for living with these soft townsfolk."
Black Úlfarr helps the rest plunder the forge, gather the survivors, and return to the rest of the crew. He looks curiously at Gylfir, but elects to remain quiet on the skald's odd bond with the captives.
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