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Loruk shares the information he gathered once everyone is back at the Dragon, letting everyone know what he has seen. "..and that is why I think this town is in far more danger than I thought. We need to figure who this mysterious humanoid is, as well."
Folding his arms across his chest, Loruk tilts his head as to magnify his answer, pronounced in a fashion to make it sound like the question should never even have been asked. "Yes Ameiko, I think we should."
"Some used to call me 'Boss', but Loruk would suit me just fine." He sighs. A hunting trip, with Aldern Foxglove no less - as if this tragedy is something to celebrate about. Some people just constantly look for excuses to justify the need to amuse themselves." "Pleased to meet you Pick. "Strangest dwarf I ever saw, probably new around this part of the world. Hm." "I've got some information to share as well. I found tracks all over town, as was expected, and to keep this as short and easily understandable as possible; we're dealing with someone with regular entry into the city. A wagon standing in the middle of the town square was placed there by what I believe to be a humanoid of sorts - by someone that would be able to enter town without drawing unwanted attention." He shakes his head and takes a deep breath before he continues. "We're not just dealing with some goblin raiders gone brave - almost every single goblin tribe in the surrounding area was involved in the raid. Someone has managed to unite and probably manipulate them. To be honest, I fear this town is in greater peril than anyone could imagine."
"This is enough, I'd better get back to the Dragon to share the information I've gathered with the others." Loruk makes his way back to the Dragon, awaiting the other adventurers' return.
"Now this is a clue. Last time I checked you need horses or a mule to pull a wagon - and a rider to get past the gate from outside. That means we're dealing with a humanoid of some sort that wouldn't draw attention, perhaps someone who knew the guards..?"
Loruk takes a good look at the footprints spread out around the wagon, trying to discern the goblin tracks from other humanoids. He then looks for footprints either guiding the horses or mules, or those made from jumping off of one and down into the dirt - before attempting to see where they lead.
"I'll have to belay this information to the others, but first - I need to find out who brought this wagon here.."
Finding the tracks leading to the covered up wagon, Loruk takes a good look around - trying to find out how it fits into the whole charade.
Thanks for playing along so nicely with me, Leinathan. I'm unfamiliar with this campaign setting, so I'm finding it intriguing to explore - and than you very much for allowing me to do so. I'm trying to play out how I picture Loruk would react, and what he would do in the aftermath. Hope I didn't cross over any boundaries or anything.
"Every single tribe. How is that even possible? I thought I knew goblins, I thought the bickering, the lust for blood and fire was enough to drive them against one another. But this.. I fear Sandpoint is in more danger than anyone could possibly imagine." At the tracks leading to the gate, Loruk halts. "How did they pass through the gate without passing through? Magic? A secret entrance?" Before he returns, he takes a look around to see if anything is out of the ordinary - perhaps an item dropped, footprints that do not resemble those left behind by goblinoids or goblin dogs and the like.
Down the road, he again stops as he notices the amount of tracks located in the area. "If these are the only tracks leading to the city, I fear we have a nest in Sandpoint. I need to return, warn the others - but first I need to find out where the rest of these goblins came from."
His curiosity brings the half-orc back through the gates, and searches through the areas the goblins attacked from - trying to discern which tracks lead to the gates, and which lead to somewhere within the city or to any of the other entrances.
"Dreamless nights. Alcohol can do that to you. At least no nightmares, maybe I should turn drinking into a profession.." Loruk takes a seat by the bar, barely smiling he orders some food and something light to drink. He spends more time picking at his food than actually eating it, and eventually opens his mouth for another purpose than filling it with nourishment. "So.. You hear anything, Ameiko? I mean.. where these goblins came from, what tribe? I'm trying to figure out if I ever saw them before, down at Junker's, but it's hard to say.. so many tribes."
He takes a swig from his drink, then sighs. "I don't know what to think. I'm heading out, alone. Gates are still open I reckon. I need some fresh air, not this.. town-smell. Tell the others I'll be back in an hour or so." He finishes his meal, then heads out of the tavern. He proceeds on foot down Market Street - and out through the gates. Down the Low Coast Road, he takes some time to look for tracks, footprints - anything the goblins left behind - trying to discern which direction they came from.
"This just doesn't make any sense. Why would they attack the city head on. What where they after?"
Loruk sits atop the Feedbag, trying to wrap his head around what had happened. Why would the goblins attack this town, where did they find either the bravery or the stupidity to launch such an assault on an established town like this. He sighs heavily, lowering his head as his feet dangle off the rooftop. At least many brave men and women answered the call to battle. Where did they come from though, I haven't seen most of them around before - well except Arturus but that's a whole other story.. Loruk sits for a while, before he climbs down and begins the trek over to the Dragon. Upon entry, he nods in respect towards the other combatants he fought alongside this day, then moves over to the bar. He sits down and orders a single flagon of ale - spending his time listening to the murmur of the other patrons.
I have to say, I'm enjoying all of your posts Pick - they are a delight to read and I have to applaud your skill in role playing a duergar.
Sweat drips from Loruk's brow as he sheathes his sword and leans backward, stretching his back. He takes a deep breath before he walks over to the goblins, searching through their belongings - and once he finds a potion, he tosses it over to Xogar and smiles. "I think you've earned one of these." He takes a look around, clearly displeased with the turmoil and horror surrounding him. "I'm not really in the mood for celebrating, but I thank you for the offer Ameiko. I need to set my mind straight, I'll see the rest of you over at the Dragon in a little while." Wandering off towards Fatman's Feedbag, he turns to give the other combatants a short glare before he strides onward - headed for the only place he finds comfort in Sandpoint, the roof atop the Feedbag.
Loruk attempts to regain his footing, and as he does - he swings his blade with frightful force, the blade sweeping towards the goblin that cut his chest open. "Po pmuut p' pmuut n'buot." Goblin:
"By blood be blood repaid."
Loruk roars in pain, the goblins' dogslicer tears through his armor and wets it with a crimson tide spewing forth from his wound. He takes advantage of the momentum from his previous strike, and as the blade is about to reach the dirt, spewing the slain goblins' blood onto the ground, he twists his body in the motion and brings the blade back upwards in an arc; aimed directly for the goblin that tore up his chest.
His blade fumbles as another dogslicer tears into his arm, and the blade halts in mid-swing.
Seeing the goblins advance, a sorrowful frown paints itself on Loruk's face. He prepares both himself and his blade as he rushes forward, bringin his blade down upon the first goblin that crosses his path.
Running towards the goblins, Loruk raises his sword high as he positions himself to charge one of the goblins. He draws his breath then bellows: "Kduo u'uo vnus drud su! us', O us ouun uunno!" Goblin:
"Stay away from that man! Come, I am your quarry!" Mechanics: hp 12/12 AC 18 Status: Normal Standard Action:
"Arturus, Half-Orc - with me." Nodding towards Arturus and Xogar as he speaks, Loruk picks up speed towards the yell coming from the north, hooking the clasp back on his bow followed by unsheathing his longsword. The large half-orc wields it firmly in both hands.
As the last of the goblins fall, Loruk does what he can to aid the townsfolk by putting out flames. "Do you see any more of them, Arturus?"
Round 3 Loruk grabs a suitable bucket from the ground while in full stride, filling it as he moves past a water-keg and rushes towards the burning wagon. In an attempt to halt the flames, he empties the bucket and discards it. The half-orc again leads his left arm behind his back, unhooks the clasp and grabs his shortbow. He retrieves a fresh arrow from his quiver, draws back the bowstring and releases; the arrow piercing through the air towards the bowman-goblin.
At times like this, where thr gm is abscent and when certain tactical encounters arise, the importance of maps is easily revealed.
Loruk turns to face the fiery inferno the goblins have created, the bright light and towering flames reflect in his dark-green eyes. He sheathes his bow and picks up speed towards the fire.
"Hold them off if you can, if we let these flames spread - they will consume the town!" he yells towards the other defenders.
Loruk retrieves an arrow from his quiver, draws it on his bow an releases the bow-string in one quick motion.
The arrows soars towards one of the goblins, and Loruk calls out as he retrieves a new arrow: "We need to put these down swiftly, allow them to swarm and we'll be overrun!"
Screams, first one then another. Screams. Loruk hadn't been there for when the screaming started last time. Before he could move a muscle, the second scream combined with the goblin warchant released a surge of memories that swept his mind away. The forest. Barefoot. The Bileworths. Songs of cruelty turned to songs of innocent joy. Hunting. Gathering. Trapping. Suddenly alone in a clearing between towering pines - goblins and townsfolk lay dead at his feet - his head filled with their incoherent babbling and whispers from beyond. Loruk manages to focus, releasing himself from the torment of the memories. He does not flinch as he stretches his left hand behind his back to unhook the clasp carrying his shortbow, releasing it into his hand - all the while scanning the area for goblins. He had heard this song before, sometime - somewhere.
He knew these goblins, not as friends but rather as enemies of the Bileworths. These goblins where dangerous. Loruk abandoned the cloaked creature he was approaching, his mind preoccupied with the situation at hand. He takes a deep breath and bellows:"Everyone, goblins are on the loose in town - grab your children and warn the guard - keep running and don't look back! Arturus, over yonder - by the wagon!"
Nodding in ambivalent gratitude, Loruk proceeds to investigate the creature alone - moving carefully in the shadows while his eyes manifest on the creature, his right hand firmly placed on his longsword.
I very much approve of that idea, and it's the reason he's named that way in his profile. Wasn't sure how I'd explain the idea - but your take on it suits me perfectly.
Arturus' words cut like blade, resulting in Loruk fumbling his last throw. He sighs as he lowers his head, then tightenes his body and set his eyes on the aging man. "Perhaps nothing of interest, perhaps something. I'm wary on days like this, where large groups of townsfolk are gathered in the middle of town. You know why, so I will not waste your time, or my own, in explaining."
He turns around, trying to find the skulking creature he noticed before. "Someone, or something, I have not encountered before is holding to the shadows - possibly trying to avoid attention. To me, he sticks out like a sore thumb." His eyes halt at a cramped alley, between the Blacksmith and Cartwright's shop. His eyes return to Arturus, nodding towards the location. "In that alley, do you see? I'm deeming it suspicious enough to investigate, and if you find it equally curious - perhaps you would go with me."
Standing in the shade, watching, listening - Loruk sees multiple characters that draws his attention. A half-elf and a large man being eagerly spoken to by a child, a short creature stalking the outskirts of the area, and Arturus. Loruk sighs, the mere sight of the man releases memories he'd rather not revisit - but he would probably notice him at some point anyway - and the half-orc moves in a slow pace towards the stand his aquaintance is currently visiting. At first Loruk ignores him, placing himself at Arturus side - his eyes locked on the man working the stand. "I would like to play." He says, and gives a humble nod to Arturus as he flings the darts. Darts:
Loruk had not slept well the night prior, and the half-orc sat wearily atop Fatman's Feedbag. As dawn approached, he watched the sun rise while his thoughts ran rampant as they usually would. Dawn turned to morning, and he gazed upon the townsfolk as they cheerfully left their homes to attend the festival. He sighed heavily, his hands resting in his lap and his feet dangling from the rooftop. If there was one day in particular that reminded him of the sorrows in his life, it would be this one. When most of the townsfolk had made their way to the festival area, Loruk climbed back down to street-level - he would rather make his way through empty streets than those filled with people he knew. People he cared for. People that gave him a look that could make the day feel like night. Dressed in hide armor, bracers and boots - held firmly together with interlocking plates and leather straps, adorned with a short wolf-skin cloak on his broad back - Loruk was a sight to behold. Alongside his green skin, black-grayish hair and accompanied furry sideburns - the people of Sandpoint would recognize him a mile away. He carried a shortbow strapped to his back, sheathed with a clasp easily opened with one hand, and a longsword sheathed at his left hip. As he made his way to the festival, Mayor Deverin's voice greeted him as he passed a corner and looked upon the sea of people watching her speech at the podium. His heart was heavy, his appearance bleak and thoughtful - a few commoners gave him the cold stares he had anticipated - and he decided to lean his back on a house wall at the outskirts of the area, his arms crossed and his head held low. He heard the Mayor's words, and saw her speak - but his mind was absent, adrift - perhaps a coping-mechanism to guard himself from the horrors of his past.
I live in Norway, so my timezone is GMT+1 if I'm not mistaken - as such, with work and studies come august in between, I believe the best way (for me at least) would be to post out of order and rather gather up the rounds instead. I don't mind listing my actions ooc for combat as well, in terms of: I post one action, perchance striking a target that is dead when my turn begins. I ooc another choice, like: "If target A dies, Lorusk swings his blade towards target B instead. I'm all ears to other suggestions though, but I might be either early or late for my combat posts at times. Come august I will not be working much, so I presume that I will be able to post more often by then.
Very much looking forward to this, and especially delving deeper into Loruk as a character in addition to his future relationship with those present. I am glad to hear that you enjoyed the story weaved together as much as I did, A'letta. I find not only yours, but everyone else's intriguing. Glad to see so many great characters make the cut, will be able and willing to type some more in the morning, it's 04 AM here - so about time to hit the hay.
Thank you, leinathan - much appreciated. And good luck to everyone, even though I might have been a bit harsh towards Khalbar - I did not intend to critique him in any way, it's just something I see very often that I as a player can't relate to. I enjoyed reading everyone's background and relationship stories. It really is nice to see so many talented people.
Glad I was able to weave forth something interesting last night. Looking over the story with Pick left a bad taste in my mouth, not entirely sure what I was trying to create there - but it's easy to determine that the store written is not an interesting one. I do like the Arturus & A'letta stories, on the other hand. Khalbar:
Khalbar seems to be quite powerful, perhaps in similar terms to the 'Chopper' - seeing as how he has slain an entire tribal camp by himself. Such power is not something Loruk assimilates with strength and respect, but rather fear and worry. In all honesty, having read through the other characters - I find that I like the possible relationships with A'letta and Arturus the most intriguing - and will rather use my previous post plus the following story with A'letta as my submissions. A'letta: "She came from the north, tall as a mountain - and broad like you had never seen a woman before." The youngest goblins laughed heartily, not quite familiar with how to act during a story just yet. "I met her a few times, tracked and showed her the lay of the land. But this woman was no ordinary woman - no. She knew things men and women should not know."
Glitters, standing up on his feet - boasted heartily: "Like Glitters know how to make fire !" His eyes reflecting the fire under the starlit sky. "Yes, Glitters - almost. Well thought." Loruk smiled to the other goblins, he could see how their eyes and small bodies ached to grab blades and run off into the wilds - but they did not. He had made progress with them. They listened. "We came across something in the wilds, not too many moons ago - something new. Something frightened, angry and alone. We approached it carefully - I had unsheathed my longswo-" The Goblins break out into laughter and cheer, making stabbing motions to eachother as they giggle. "HA-HA-HA! Yes, you stabbed and gutted it! Stabbing makes everything better, Boss!" Loruk sighed, perhaps he had made progress - but it would still take many more years to make them understand that stabbing someone isn't the best way to solve every encounter. "Not exactly, Bog. The creature we encountered was cloaked, hooded even - and not aware of our approach. Or well, seemingly not. A'letta, the Shoanti woman I traveled with, stood a few feet off to my side as I came within arms-length of the creature. As I placed my hand on his shoulder, he turned - and as my spine shivered and froze - the face I gazed upon was mine. That is when I awoke to her words: "Now, do you see?" The goblins burst into laughter once more, obviously unable to comprehend what Loruk had just told them - and instead deemed it humorous. Loruk smiled. My dear children.
Pick:
Loruk had seen much in his life, always watching - always learning. He had seen men come and go, brawl - tossed out of the Fatman's Fleabag for not having a coin to their name. He had seen much, but never anything quite like a Duergar. Loruk had worked as a trapper for quite some time, a skill he put to good use while with the Bileworths - gathering food to keep the goblins sated - trying to discern if a hungry goblin was more dangerous than a well-fed one. As he was gathering a few unlucky rabbits about a half-mile from the Bileworth's make-shift camp - he noticed something, someone, watching him. Loruk, not one to make poor decisions without thinking, gathered the game as he always did - before disappearing into the woods. In fact, he had not gone long in his stride. Keeping close to the natural shadows in the wood, he had turned the roles and the prey was now the hunter. Towering behind the dwarf, he spoke in a soft voice as he left the shadows - though he sought the goodness in all creatures - he was no fool, and had one hand on his long sword's hilt as he spoke. "You. You are not from around here, are you?" Though startled, the Duergar did not flee - but instead responded with soft words in kind. The two talked for hours and exchanged names and stories. Pick told him of his subterranean tribe - but withheld information one does not share with surface-dwellers. Loruk did not feel pity for the dwarf, but sought to understand him - to *know* him - to learn. As the two 'outsiders' parted ways, they shook hands and exchanged words of respect to one-another. They did not encounter each other again after that day, until the Swallowtail Festival. Arturus:
If there was one man Loruk had spent a lot of time with in Sandpoint, it was Arturus Caeldhon. The old man was way past his prime when they first met, but if someone asked him who could teach a man the skill of trapping - his answer would be "Arturus". The two did not see eye to eye immediately, as Arturus never understood why Loruk spent so much of his time simply watching others, especially goblins - the young half-orc's talent for trapping eventually made them found friends. Perhaps his stories was what drew Loruk to Arturus in the first place, or perhaps it was simply his take on the trade - Loruk respected the man. He gladly listened to what he had to say, to his stories from journeying with the Civilizers - to heated arguments concerning the goblins at Junker's Edge. When Loruk left Sandpoint, the two had argued so harshly most people thought they would come to blows. After Loruk returned, some time after the 'Chopper' had committed his crimes - Arturus was the first to greet the Half-Orc; saying the words that would haunt him for years to come: "You should have been here."
Well, one could say that Loruk's relationship with goblins and goblin tribes to be complicated at best. Goblin relationship explained:
During the two major turning-points in his life, he was in fact absent - unable to do anything or participate. On one side, this ruined his relationship with the people of Sandpoint, making him feel like an outsider for the first time in his life. The Bileworth's collective suicide on the other hand, made Loruk both angry and sad. He had spent quite some time with the tribe and in his head he hoped and believed that every creature has the potency to become a force of good - and if not, at least perhaps he could guide them away from plundering, burning and murder townsfolk. When he arrived in Sandpoint, after the 'Chopper's killings - his relationship with goblins soured prominently. Even though he felt sorry for the goblins, his guilt and sorrow quickly summarized, probably to shield the Half-Orc from depression, that if the goblins hadn't existed in the first place - he would still be in Sandpoint during the murders. To answer your question: Yes and no. Loruk knows most of the tribes around Sandpoint are deadly, especially in large numbers. On the other hand, against a small group of Goblins (1-2), he will not shoot first and ask questions later - but rather try to reason with the creature/creatures - as he looks upon them as frightened and unsupervised children - left to do as their whims please.
Added Trapper as a free Profession and altered the +1 skill point in swim to +1 local. Everything should be in order now - just need to add the goblin story to the profile.
Never added two points to comliness. Only stated that I altered 'Boss' s stats. Apologies if I did not make that clear.
Also, I'm assuming +2 points for being Neutral Good, altered 'Boss' accordingly.
Page 4, Anniversary Edition Player's Guide Link
Might just be in the Anniversary Edition - perchance that is not the edition you are going with for this campaign? Goblin watcher is a campaign trait, though it might only be listed in the Anniversary Edition.
Trait: Goblin Watcher
Now, the Bileworths (the tribe he befriended and led) - had always been a small tribe. They where reckless, stupid and had no disregard for their own or other's safety (so pretty much a standard goblin tribe) - but they didn't have quite the same lust for blood as the others. Loruk had seen this particular tribe often, usually bullied by the bigger and stronger tribes. The Bileworths where perhaps smarter, seeing as how they survived in fewer numbers, but they lacked a leader with enough brawns to give them some leverage at the junkyard. Taking this knowledge into play, Loruk had little trouble infiltrating the tribe and taking charge - all he had to do was help them out at the Junker's Edge. And thank you. I've been thinking about this character for a while, and I've done my best to make all his traits and feats fit his background as perfectly as I could. I don't want to play your run-of-the-mill brutish half-orc - but rather a tough man with a good heart - seeking to do the world some good.
Just want to drop an idea for a character down here. Been nesting on this one for a while. I know both the Rogue and Ranger slots are pretty much filled - but what the heck. I'm currently in quite a few campaigns here, so do feel free to pick someone else instead - I just needed to vent the idea is all. Background:
He had seen what Sandpoint had to offer. He knew the alleys, the taverns and the locals all too well. Growing up in Sandpoint wasn't hard or tough like Magnimar or Korvosa, no - it was a pleasant town with few problems. Loruk spent a lot of his time watching things. Watching people, animals and the town itself. He loved to sit atop Fatman's Fleabag - the climb well worth the sights that greeted him after his ascent. To some Half-Orcs, the Varisians of Sandpoint might have seemed strange and brutish, especially if one would sit atop the Fleabag for one night - but to Loruk; this was as normal as it could get. In time, his mother and foster-father grew old, weathered away and died - as humans do. He never did respect his foster-father like he did his mother, as she had the same affinity for tracking and animals as Loruk did. He cared for both none the less, as they did for him. They never told him anything about his real father, but Loruk did not care. His foster-father was a good a father as any - and he never complained or felt drawn towards the orcish tribes. He was at peace in Sandpoint, and cared much for both the townsfolk, the animals and even the poor goblins tribes in the wilderness. It all changed after the 'Chopper', though. Loruk never saw the horror the other townsfolk did, and after the horrible crimes the 'Chopper' inflicted upon the community - the Half-Orc's absence during the ordeal made him feel like an outsider for the first time in his life. Loruk had left the town a few months prior, leading a group of Goblins he had watched for quite some time - trying to help them understand that not everything needs to be burned or killed. His nickname, 'Boss', was a reward from being a "good strong big-chief" for the Goblins. Unfortunately, the small tribe all perished when 'Glitters' - the tribe's alchemist - convinced the other goblins to stack up enough "boomy-stuffs" to blow themselves into the sky - stating that this was the best plan of all time for goblin espionage. One could say that the entire goblin tribe went out with a bang. Upon his return to Sandpoint, he could feel the stares from the other townsfolk - blaming him, perhaps, for the 'Chopper's long killing spree. "You're a good shot with that bow of yours, Loruk. You should have been here. You could have done something." Those words stung deeper than any dagger or broken glass at a Fleabag-brawl - and would haunt the Half-Orc for years to come. Spending more time atop the Fleabag than usual, Loruk hopes and daydreams that one day the townsfolk will forgive him, and that he can redeem himself to those that once called him friend. Link to Alias (statistics etc) Alias of Cutler. |