Brunhild Liefdottir's page

Wonderful! Alright….

Sundered Dwarf
* Abilities: +1 Str +1 Con -1 Cha
* VISION: Infravision up to 30 feet.
* ATTACK BONUS +1 to attack Orcs, Half-Orcs, Goblins, and Hobgoblins. Larger monsters suffer -4 to attack a Dwarf.
* RESISTANCES: None
* UNDERGROUND DETECTION
* MAGICAL MALFUNCTIONS: If a magical item is not specifically created for the dwarf's class, there is a 20% chance (40% for gully dwarves) that the item will malfunction when it is used. A check is made each time the dwarf uses the item and affects only the current use; it may work properly the next time. This applies to rods, staves, wands, rings, amulets, potions, horns, jewels, and most other magical items. Also, DMs should note that a malfunction is not usually just a simple failure to function. The item usually does something dramatic and colorful, at the DM's discretion. Dwarves have learned to master some magical items. Weapons, shields, armor, gauntlets, and girdles always work. Dwarf priests and warrior/priests may use clerical items without malfunction. Dwarves also recognize cursed magical items that malfunction in their hands. They may dispose of malfunctioning items.

17/16/16/15/15/12

Str: 17+1 =18 1d100 ⇒ 93
Dex: 16
Con: 15+1=16
Int: 12
Wis: 16
Cha: 15-1=14

Class: Hearth Guard kit for warrior

I’ll start working up the profile, will make a backstory…and will figure out how proficiency and saving throws work. Just read up on understanding thaco.

I have a character idea for a sundered dwarf, which I think would be fun for this campaign. The concept is a dwarf from a clan that lost their home generations ago, who jumps at the prospect of founding a new settlement.

I really love the flavor of sundered dwarves, but the claustrophobia rule doesn’t make sense to me. Why would dwarves who long for their lost homeland have a racial mental problem with being underground? It doubly doesn’t make sense to me because they keep underground-esque racial abilities.

Would you be open to this variant: drop claustrophobia, but also remove the standard dwarven magic resistance? In my mind, this reflects generations of exile away from the mountains, similar to how drow who live on the surface lose some of their magical traits. Alternatively, I could see dropping infravision and detect underground features instead. Either approach could represent being away from the earth for so long.

If you’d prefer not to adjust the rules, I’m happy to play a regular mountain dwarf. I just thought it might be a cool way to reflect the story of a sundered clan.

Edit: to be clear. Sundered Dwarves are +1 Str, +1 Con, -1 Cha. Add claustrophobia as a rule. So it is just replacing 1 downside for a different one.

Also for said character I’d use this profile. Would choose the Hearthguard Kit. Because it seems perfect for a dwarf who wants nothing more than to make a home, and who is terrified of losing it.

I would be. I think that the repeat of day and night checks is what destroys the campaign. If we were to go on, I think that the new GM would start past that point

Don't think there is a need. Sadly, I think this campaign is dead

Hope you recover soon, take care of yourself

Whatever roll is necessary: 1d20 ⇒ 17

With the rope tied around her, and her comrades holding the other end, Brunhild leapt into the water before she could rethink how crazy the decision was…all she had to do was get to Scrimshaw so that both of them could be pulled back up.

”Fook!” Brunhild cursed. ”Get me a rope!” She yelled, as she looked for one. ”Gonna tie it around me waist and jump in. Pull us back out, aye?” She gave Seadreamer a look that said ‘I trust you, don’t let go.’

Whatever roll is needed for the above: 1d20 ⇒ 18

Brunhild finds herself fatigued, though Seadreamer seems to still be ok.

Con Check DC14 Seadreamer,Brunhild: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 231d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

---------------

To clarify, is Brunhild fatigued? It was DC14 and it seems like she got a 16

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
1d8 ⇒ 3

Day 7 Bilges

Bilges (STR) DC12: 1d20 + 2 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 2 + 4 = 9
Bilges (Con) DC 10: 1d20 + 3 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 3 + 4 = 10

Brunhild worked hard, but it was with a crushed spirit. What was the point of buying from the quartermaster? regardless of pay, they were still enslaved. She spent the day dreaming of ways to enact vengeance against the dwarf who betrayed her and caused her to come here. She dreamed of ways to escape. To kill the captain...and through it all she had but one idea. She needed to be trusted. She needed some way for the officers to see her as being reliable and loyal, so that when the time came she could either escape or enact bloody retribution. This meant not taking the first opportunity that came up, but rather to bide her time. She just needed an opportunity to prove herself first...unfortunately, all of this thinking meant that she did quite a poor job.

Day 8 Upper Rigging

With the last day spent deep in thought, Brunhild approached the next day fresh and with resolve. She went to her work with gusto, working as diligently as possible. She knew that the time would eventually come. She just had to be patient. In the end, she would be free, one way or another. There was just no point moping about it, or rushing things...

Climb: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
Sailor: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22

Brunhild forced a smile. ”So does this mean that the ever looming specter of violence and death lessens once we prove ourselves in battle? And if we get paid, at what point are we trusted enough to actually make use of such pay? Being a crew member and a slave are two different things.”

Rum: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
Cha: 1d4 ⇒ 1

Diplomacy Tibbs: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21

Feeling the effect of the Rum, Brunhild actually decided to be social. In this she found herself talking to Tibbs, wanting to hear stories of life anywhere but this ship. That, and she wanted to get her mind off of the dwarf, Tate. She found herself fantasizing about flogging the dwarf to death with his own beard, and realized that if she didn’t find a distraction she was likely going to confront him…and that wouldn’t end well for anyone. So she found Stubbs, eager to learn about the gnome. In this, Brunhild proved to be a good listener.

”Aye…this fookin’ floatin’ grave! It’s bloody getting to me. Feels like we can die any day for any reason. How the Fook do they expect to have a crew like this?” Brunhild said, bitterly.

Diligent
Acrobatics: 1d20 + 2 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 2 + 4 = 13
Con: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

With Lily dead, the danger of the ship became all the more real. Brunhild quietly went about her work, doing her best to keep her head down. It seemed that the best way to survive was to get in the good graces of the officers, and failing that to do one’s job without standing out.

Brunhild tried to sleep, but it did not come easy. This wasn’t due to the sway of the ship, but rather due to the day’s events. At length she got up and went to join the crew. Coming across 'Badger' Medlar, she tried to strike up a conversation, asking as towards what other violent punishments were commonly employed on the ship.

Influence: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

Brunhild shook her head and turned to leave. It was a brutal life on the ship, and she now knew what crossing the officers would lead to. With no way of helping, she decided to focus on just staying alive herself. Until an opportunity arose, what else was there?

Brunhild kept her eyes on the event and said, quietly so as to not be overheard ”Lock it up. It’s a fist fight. Get involved and yer punishment will be much worse. And I doubt that the tusker would be giving much in thanks anyways. It’s her fight.”

Brunhild shrugged noncommittedly. She didn't know Lily, and the woman was a half-orc. Which meant that while she wasn't half bad, she wasn't half good either. With no magical tools at her disposal, there was little she could do. And to take action meant, at best, being in there as well. So the dwarf stood by, her arms crossed, waiting to see what would come of the two fighters.

Sailor shirk: 1d20 + 10 - 2 ⇒ (7) + 10 - 2 = 15
18 perception

As usual, Brunhild put in less than her best. Even though she was performing the only task that she wanted to do, she was stubborn in her hatred of the ship. As she worked she kept an eye out…to determine if there was anything useful in the area…and to get an idea of how she could sabotage the ship if living on it became unbearable. The idea of sinking it to the bottom of the ocean was a warm thought that took the edge off of her feeling powerless.

Influence: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Brunhild lay in her hammock and stared at the ceiling. The gentle swaying of the ship was slowly putting her to sleep, even though her mind raced. The fact that there had been so many giant rats on the ship was worrisome. The standing water alone would breed disease and would attract gods knew what else. The ship truly was a floating disaster. She thought about trying to talk to the other crew. Perhaps gambling. But the mere thought of them made her stomach churn. She knew that it was something that she *should* do, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. So she eventually just went to sleep, wondering what new horrors would come when she woke up.

It seems like only the spell casters were called

Terry waves the rapier through the bilge water, hoping to get the worst of the mess to dilute into the muck, but he doesn't try to truly clean himself or the blade in the bilge water.

As Brunhild begins making a carry pole with her spear, his face brightens a bit. "Thank you for this kindness, Brunhild. Let me help you carrying that, if I can."

After the corpses are disposed over the side, Terry will use the normal set of ropes for lowering himself over the side to rinse himself off in the open sea. Once back on the deck, he'll use a piece of oilcloth to wipe down the blade.

If anybody in authority says something, he's ready to respond, but if nobody brings it up, he won't either. He quietly moves to simply keep his blade as he scrambles back up the rigging.

Brunhild gave terry an odd look. Kindness? She didn't bother to correct the man. "Aye then. Let's get the dirty work done before we get a lash."

Brunhild looked down into the dirty water filled with rat corpses and realized that she was fortunate to have gotten there as late as she did. Using her spear, she went about the process of stabbing the bodies of the rats so that they could be carried away without having to touch them.

Still too far away, Brunhild continued running towards the sounds of violence…

double move

Indeed, take care of what matters

Taking her spear in hand, Brunhild rushed towards the rat infested bilge.

Still a long ways off, Brunhild ran as fast as her legs could carry her. Double move

Indeed, welcome back!

Brunhild controlled the urge to shoot Riaris an annoyed look and instead ran to the quartermaster. Getting there, she skidded to a halt. Quite a sight to see, she was sure. "A weapon. Riaris said that me kinsman...Seadreamer...needs help in the bilge and that I need to get armed. Had a spear when I was kidnapped. Could use it now." She did her absolute best to keep the bitterness out of her voice as she said it, knowing that getting armed was the fastest way on getting down there.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

Brunhild nodded grimly. She cared not one whit for the ship, but her kinsman was another matter entirely. She moved with all haste to assist him, not bothering to stop and beg for her weapon which was held in storage.

Acrobatics with shirk: 1d20 ⇒ 16
Perception 18 on the areas she runs through…unless Abel struggles. Then she will help him if possible instead
Con: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

Running. Passing messages. It was not her ‘thing’ at all. But she dared no refuse. Still, she hated the ship and the crew enough to ensure that she didn’t really try. She only did what she was told. No more. No less. Luckily for her, she was strong enough and tough enough to not get tired from running back and forth. If anything, it was good expertise. By the end of the day though, her ill-will towards the ship and it’s masters had grown. Idly she checked to make sure that her knife was still on her…

My rule of thumb? I’m ok with it so long as anything explicit fades to black.

IC? Brunhild will look down on Ellie, but that’s it

Rum: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 3 + 2 = 23

”Don’t care to get whipped.” Brunhild responded. ”There be supplies for several weeks at sea. We will be here for awhile. Plenty of time to look around without risking keelhauling.” She remembered the incident far too well…

Brunhild nodded with a glum look on her face. She replied, in dwarven:

The entire enterprise felt slapdash and on it's head backwards. It seemed to her that disaster was inevitable...

...the next day she went to work, but without much heart. Even though it was the work that she *wanted* to do, knowing that it was for such a blasted crew. Luckily, such was her craftsmanship, that even halfassing it was enough by human standards.

Shirk!: 1d20 + 10 - 2 ⇒ (6) + 10 - 2 = 14
Perception take 10: 10 + 8 = 18

Not trusting her tongue, or fists, Brunhild retired for the night. Given their slavery, she didn’t see much of a rush to go out and make small talk. Especially when she knew that a lost temper could lead to lashes, or worse, keel-hauling.

Brunhild hissed back:

She said, darkly. Then, in common she finished "Going to bloody sleep. Can't wait to see if the rum or the crew kill me first." The humiliation of the whipping had put her into a fighting mood, but with her powerlessness she was teetering on the edge of being despondent. The idea of putting on a smiling face was just too much for her that night.

”Seriously? They’d want to see wounds that could fester and get infected?” Brunhild shook her head. ”Its like avoiding maintenance on your tools just to see if they’ll break.” After a moment she asked ”Is there anything good on this ship? As in, does anyone aside from the officers get paid? Or I’d everyone a slave too afraid to rebel?” Her mind slowly turned to the dwarf who had brought her here. She wondered how she could get vengeance on him without being caught...

Brunhild listened quietly and intently. When healed, and after hearing the explanation, she offered a small smile. "Aye. I understand. Nay anyone taught me aquan either. Around the same time that I began speaking it, I started doing this." She took a mug of water, raised a finger and put it in. The intense chill around her extended digit caused the water to begin to turn into ice. "So far that's about it. Seems like where ye can heal people, I can make it really fookin' cold. Can't say it's from the same source. But yer not alone in this."

Fort to be stoic?: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

Brunhild kept her mouth shut as she marched her way to the front, and even managed to keep an even face as her shirt was whipped. Hearing the lashes that came before her made the wait even worse. When it came to her turn she was steeped by her sudden rush of hatred for the man. To humiliate a shipwright like this! She was of half a mind to scuttle the ship at the first opportunity. See how they liked it if she could work some hidden flaw into her repairs. Thoughts of revenge against the traitorous kinsman who brought her here and her newest tormentor got her through the lashings. Once done she pulled her shirt back up as best she could and marched off towards dinner. Not looking at anyone, she went right for the rum. As horrid as it was, at least it was alcohol.

Con for rum: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19

"It's aquan. Language of the sea." Brunhild called out, and then repeated the sentence in said language. "Just a language like any other." She hoped that it would help sway public opinion. It would not do for both Terry and Destinie both to be brutally punished for just speaking a language...

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

Oops! I meant Brunhild.

Can't really blame lack of coffee for this one!

All dwarves look alike? Into the book of grudges you go!

So did I shift Cogs to being indifferent?

Wish you the best, and thank you for letting us know

Day 1: Swab!

Profession Sailor: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23

When the duties of the day was called out, Brunhild's day was immediately ruined. Swab work. She had hoped that she had proven herself worthy enough the day before, but now she was being given busy work while Ming had been chosen to work on repairs. Being passed over stung, but she held her tongue. She would have time to prove herself. So she kept her mouth shut and dutifully hauled rope. Given that at her parent's business it usually fell on her to do the brute force work that nobody else wanted to do, it came easily enough for her. And once the rope was hauled, she sat and went about knotting with skilled hands.

Influence Cog: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

As she worked she began to chant. It was a habit picked up from long hours working alongside her clansmen, in that when hours of work was needed, sagas of old would be chanted to pass the time and keep the rhythm. Without giving it any thought, she went about repeating the words of the saga entitled 'The Wrath of King Valthyr'

"...In swelling rage | then rose up King Valthyr,--
Seldom he sits | when he such things hears,--
And the oaths were made, | the words and bonds,
The mighty pledges | between them made.
I know of the horn | in temple, hidden
Under the deep-reaching | holy rock;
On it there sounds | with Valthyr's pledge
A mighty blast: | would you hear?
On all sides saw I | dwarves assemble,
Ready to march | to battle the orcs;
Skuld bore the banner, | and Skogul marched next,
Guth, Hild, Gondul, | and Geirskogul.
Of Herjan's chosen | the list have ye heard,
Hearthguard ready | to march o'er the earth..."

Noticing Cog looking at her she stopped. "Old working habit." She explained, simply. "Fixing broken ships takes many an hour and it passes the time. They flog for such? Seems like near anythin' will get them to draw blood here."

"Should also wait until it's the right moment. One where there be somethin' that pushes the odds in our favor. The captain can't be in charge unless he's right hard, aye? Otherwise why would everyone be so afraid of him? Even with half the crew on our side, we should be cautious before doin' anything." Brunhild reasoned.

Rum: 1d20 + 6 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 6 + 3 = 12
Cha: 1d4 ⇒ 3

Brunhild drank, looking forward to something decent on the ship. With a shock she came to the conclusion that even the rum was wrong. The rum! It tasted odd, and not in a good way. The fact that it was mandatory made it even more suspicious. Turning to Sandara she asked ”The fook is in this that they need to force us to drink?”

Brunhild took the dagger and hurriedly secreted it away, muttering a thanks as she did. It was good to have honest steel on her. With Destinie voicing her own questions, she kept quiet and listened, glad to let someone else confront the elephant in the room.

Brunhild let out a breath that she didn't realize that she had been holding in. It was just hitting her how on edge the ship was making her. She was especially glad that Abel had escaped the lash. She worried for the lad.

Very quietly Brunhild said "Aye, that we should." She wanted to say more, but couldn't quite get the words out. Once more she cursed the traitorous dwarf who dragged her onto this floating hell.

Brunhild stood as still as a statue, a stoic look on her face. The spectacle was gruesome enough without needing to show the corpse off. This was a ship run on terror and sadism. Her previous feeling of contentment at simple work vanished, replaced by dread. Seeing that the other press-ganged pirates were to be brutally punished for not performing tasks they were not trained in just added to the horror that was this ship.