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I am so sorry guys. I had a great time, but I need to pull out of the game. I just can't devote enough time right now. You are all some amazing writers and it was a honor to have played with you all. My vocabulary thanks you =). Good luck to you all. I hope the game goes on for years to come and continues to be just as interesting and enjoyable!
Dunagan rises shortly before the work on the cairn is finished. He comes sauntering back just in time to throw the last few stones atop the mound, clacking against one another. Working his way down to the largest of rocks of the base, he pulls a hammer and fine chisel from his pack. Although he mainly uses it to decorate or inscribe his forgerune, today he looks to the others for input on what to write for an epitaph. ------------------------- Finishing the last few words of what has been recommended and approved, he gets up from his kneeling position and looks to the caravan which is now focused on something moving from the swamps. As the figures march towards them, the Dwarf smiles and returns his tools to his bags. Dusting off himself and his hands, he walks towards Pellius to hear the tale....
I think the PCs have some very specific aspirations and goals that perhaps have not been triggered by the events in the game yet. Maybe Dunagan will have quite a bit to contribute to the roleplay when he actually gets enough time to take a look at Dierik's sword? There was some interesting dynamics when Dunagan and Pellius were looking over the sakkaveen forged sword. That's what excites Dunagan and in turn me. Needless to say, I'm really looking forward to what will happen once the party arrives at the Hold of Belkzen.
The sleepless, eventful night before has taken its toll on Dunagan. As the mid-day sun reaches its zenith, the Dwarf can be seen a hundred feet away from the Cairn propped up against a rock. He holds his warhammer across his lap as if it were a child and his head rests on the rock behind him. The most curious thing about the dwarf is that while he is rather crude and flatulent while awake, he is rather charming while he sleeps. He does not snore and lies relatively lifeless. If it were not for his awkward position, many would not realize the dwarf to be asleep. Much of the morning he contributed his fair share to the work by helping move the larger, massive boulders into place. Yet, he has missed the worst of it as the others climb the corpse-mound to deposit the smaller rocks. The Dwarf is able to eek out a few hours of sleep in solitude...
I feel like I am limping along keeping my head above water just enough to not drown. I don't mind the flavor you added Pyotr. Please, please, please feel free to push along and do not feel the need to wait for me to keep things progressing. The story is more important than getting Dunagan's character spot on, so feel free to embellish as you see fit. I'll probably become a bit more consistent with my posting soon, but then it will get sketchy again (around July/August). Right now I am training my replacement and being hit with quite a bit of work while getting things in order. I'll be moving in July and training in August.
"If it be me underneath a beast an' me spirit is already in the halls of Torag, leave me to tha beast. Better to fill its belly than the belly of 'sum worms beneath a hill o' rocks then it havin' a chance to hurt my fellas." The dwarf stretches out towards the sky after latching his warhammer to his belt and lashing his shield to his back. He looks over the area and rubs his weary eyes before walking towards Pyotr.
"Yer helmet is in a hideous shape! Lemme round out them dents when we get a break." The forgemaster looks back towards camp and speaks up, "'Spose we should let them know it is all clear."
Dunagan sighs in relief at the shape the creature is in, "Nay. I suggest we let the beast have its fill and be off. It'll make our jobs all tha more easier. Jus' keep an eye on it. Dun think it has the mind to go messin' with us when its plate is already full! I can keep an eye on him if ye want to start preparing." Dunagan looks to the Magus and waits for a response.
I win! Too bad we didn't make wager's on Bonegrit's decision.
"I think I left Sard back over there... and my armor and my gear at camp... Ye do what Pyotr seys and we will come a running. A bit more prepared this time 'round tho. I jes came runnin after ya because I thought ye had gone mad or possessed. Thought I culd wake ya from it or something. Good ta see ye are just insane!" Dunagan waits for those who have chosen to return to start doing so and follows them out of the swamp to go gather up Sard and return to the camp.
Based on his previous statements that the dog is part of the caravan and that (in a round a bout way saying) it is his duty to protect it, I'd say that he would continue on with or without the group until he either finds Shambles or evidence of his demise.
Dang real life, getting in the way - good luck with everything!! Thanks =) At least it is a good thing interrupting my hobby. I for one love the openness of sharing the rolls with us DM Tadpole. I prefer a transparent GM over a closed one when it comes to mechanics. It shows that you are willing to let the story unfold in an unpredictable way rather than a way you want it to. An unpredictable story is all the more fun.
The Dwarf slams his hammer towards the fleeing twig creature.
The lack of sleep wearing on him, the dwarf's shoulders slump forward and he looks dreary eyed around for Bonegrit. He finally notices the Half Orc on Amiro in the distance. He huffs out a sarcastic laugh at Pellius' words. "Are ye tryin to persuade him to come back or stay out longer? We are already out in this mess. I'm sure the fella aint going to turn back 'til he finds the mutt. Myswell just appease him or leave him. That's 'bout the only choices we have."
Thanks =)
Dunagan continues to plow through the swamp water towards the twig-men. He makes it to the side of Pyotr just in time to watch the Half-Orc swing his blade towards the creature.
Hey guys. I've already given DM Tadpole the details, but I'd like to let everyone else know about what's going on. I've recently been promoted and in consequence I will be very busy the next few months. I will be attending training and moving to a new place. Things have already started to pick up, but this is the calm before the storm. I expect it to get much more crazy. With that in mind, DM Tadpole and I have agreed that he will DMPC Dunagan during my (likely unexpected) asbences, but I will try my best to post once a day.
Dunagan curses the deep water of the swamp as he wades through it. Unlike the humans that stand above him, the water makes it all the more harder for him to move, but each of his steps are with purpose towards the stick men. He holds his hammer in two hands, waiting to bring it down upon the twigs.
Dunagan hops from Sard and pulls his warhammer from his belt, and waves his left hand above the haft of the warhammer. He begins a whispered divine blessing.
Satisfied with the result, Dunagan jets off towards Bonegrit, now in the company of his fellow caravan guards.
"The only thing I am certain about is that Shambles is more likely to return to the camp then us!" Dunagan's sanity returns as he begins to feel the weight of the swamp around him. The darkness closes in tighter and tighter as both him and his horse become visibly nervous, both breathing heavier and making more and more erratic movements. The Dwarf pulls Sard to a halt and begins to wheel her back around to follow his tracks from the camp and rejoin the others behind him.
Dunagan tries to keep pace with Bonegrit, hoping to not lose him in the darkness. "Hold fast, Bonegrit! It is just a mutt! The beast has survived this long without us. We can search for it in the morning."
Hah! Those reactions were hilarious! I should have just dropped Dunagan's charisma down to 5! Also, on a side note: Dunagan switches between Sard and Cornalium throughout the trip. It so happens that Sard is the horse of choice for tonight's expedition. On another note, I am not sure if you have caught on to Dunagan's references to Dierik Ironcoffer as Sir Dierik. It is most undoubtedly an under-toned insult to the character of the man and likely to grow into a term of endearment as time goes on, but for now, it is me role-playing out that 7 charisma. Perhaps as time goes on it would be interesting to get a quick synopsis of how the NPCs view the PCs.
"Crazy Half-orc. Ye are dumb as that dog!" Dunagan quickly mounts Sard and chases after Bonegrit. He leaves the armor piled upon itself nearby his tent and workspace. And I am no better...
"It would be my pleasure." The forgemaster takes the blade in his hand and runs his fingers over its edge. He feels out the blade and looks over its craftsmanship long before he looks to the runes etched into its blade. After determining anything that he can, he provides the details to Pellius. ----------- Later into the night as the orcish drums beat on, Dunagan can be heard in his tent tossing and turning. He has only slept a few hours before the haunting sounds and the images of the day are too much for him to bear. He slings the flap to his tent open and marches to Dierik's wagon with a furious, fiery glow in his eyes. He raps on the door loudly and shouts, "Give me the pauldron Sir Dierik!"
Dunagan rummages through his bag in the night. While it would be disastrous for a human to attempt the repairs at night, Torag has blessed Dunagan so that he see clearly in the darkest of nights. The dwarf pulls his tools from his bag and begins to hammer out the dents. A harmonious almost elegant sound of his work fills the camp. The clang of his hammer against the pauldron forms into a melodic beat that soon drowns out the sounds of the drums in the distance. It is only a short lived respite from the frightful melody as the forgemaster finishes the repairs.
"Dun know why you want to dig a trench. Always thought for a Cairn you wanted to build it up and bury them under rocks? I'll grab some of these larger rocks ta' create a barrier on the outside so nun the smaller ones roll out..." Dunagan scratches his head and walks over to Cornalium gathering a rope from the saddlebags. Slowly, he begins lashing up a rather large rock and tethers it to Cornalium. After a few minutes of prodding, the horse finally complies in allowing the dwarf to use it as a workhorse. The large stones are slowly pulled near the mound to be used as a sturdy base. The Dwarf continues the process methodically, beginning to build a rather large base.
Thanks! It sure was. =)
I've been back since Friday, but I've been keeping super busy. You know how it is - needing a vacation (holiday) after a vacation (holiday). My wife and I went to Vegas and left the kiddos with the parents. We went running around and tried to see all the sites in a few days. Lots of walking. Saw a few shows. It was a good time. Don't think I'll go back though, too expensive and I'm not all that into the gambling and drinking. The sites were great though! The architecture is incredible and the shows are just as great. We saw Le Reve and Absinthe, the first being a mix of all sorts of acrobatics, and the second being a mix of some rather raunchy humor and acrobatics. The rest were the free shows like the Sirens of Treasure Island, Bellagio's Fountains, and the Mirage's volcano. It's good to be back. I'll be playing catch up in the forums today =)
The dwarf studies his newly acquired warhammer almost expressionless. Only the crows feet around his eyes narrow when he rubs his fingers over the forgerune, removing the bloody mud from it. Suddenly a perplexed look scrunches over his face.
Dunagan saunters over to the Chelaxian bard. Stepping carefully over the bodies. He holds the hammer outstretched to the man while the others speak to the rescued knight. "Delkaneth. Ye mind taking a look at this rune? Bit curious if you might know anything 'bout it? Found it over there on that orc." His hairy knuckled-finger points off to the orc barely visible under a bloodstained pale-white horse.
Dunagan slowly lowers himself from the saddle on to the ground as soon as he realizes the mound is made of men. Drawing on the reservoir in his mouth he spits on the ground and curses, "Sodding Gorum. To exist only for the sake of conflict and battle is repulsive." The forgemaster searches the pile, attempting to find anyone who may yet still breath. In doing so he mumbles a quick prayer to Torag for his divine guidance in protecting what may yet not be lost.
"A god born of the will of mortals," the dwarf continues as he searches through the bodies. "Such an affront to the order of this world. For mortals are born of the will of the gods, not gods birthed of mortal will." As time goes on, Dunagan mutters another quick prayer and his eyes glow with a light blue aura. Having satisfied his desire to search for survivors, Dunagan begins to take notice of any remaining arms and armor nearby. Of particular interest is the massive falchion lodged within the mound. The dwarf searches carefully amongst the men for any that may bear his family's mark or that are of superior quality to satisfy his erudite desire. "A pyre large enough to burn this many would require as much work as a cairn. I suppose it is up to those who worship Iomedae to decide, but I'd leave the Gorum worshipers here as it is a fitting burial for them."
"War and conflict is a mean to an ends, not a means in itself. Gorum is like a breastplate that is not created to protect one's organs, but instead created to be only struck by a blade.." Dunagan pulls a small dagger from a soldiers waistband and eyes it carefully before speaking again, "Following suit, war for war's sake is a blade only forged to only strike armor. It is not made to have any effect other than cause a cacophony. It is why I only work with steel and not iron. Steel is honed and sharp while iron is blunt and dull. One has been created with purpose, the other, simply fumbled upon."
Just throw Dunagan somewhere in the middle. He can toss out bless and buff everyone up from there. Other than that, he is probably capable of being on the front lines to wade in with the rest of everyone else. EDIT: By the way, I will be on vacation starting Monday so I will probably not get in a post until Thursday or Friday. Please feel free to DMPC Dunagan as you see fit until I return.
"Nay, I dun believe so. My family is more concerned with metal than stone, but out of my own curiosity I have dabbled in the study of architecture. I too know of this bridge and it provides even more evidence that Koldukar can never be re-claimed." Dunagan sighs, ""Suppose I am just one of them Dwarves that no longer feels that is my rightful home... it has been so long since we have lost it..." The dwarf sits introspectively upon Cornallium, their loud breathing matching. He tugs on the reigns towards the direction the small band has been tasked to scout, but makes a quick stop near the chuck wagon, picking up his lunch.
"Good eye Pellius." The dwarf saunters on with Cornallium after the threat is shooed away. As the caravan moves on and leaves the snake behind, Dunagan is often looks curiously towards Delkaneth. During Dunagan's trip to the river last night he noticed that the young man had been escorting Zriorinta the night prior. "Delkaneth, join me for a second, if you would." Dunagan pulls Cornallium to the side of the caravan and far from Dierik and Ziorinta's ears. He slows the pace of the Jennet to an almost halt and wais for Delkaneth to join him.
"Look lad, I'm not one for secrets. So I am just gunna tell ya. I saw Dierik skulking away from Ziorinta's wagon in the wee hours of this mornin. The man was half dressed and his hair a mess. I know ye have been watching the lass as she has bathed, protecting her and such, and I feel like ya should know about the two. Dun care what you do. Just arming ya with the finest of equipment - the truth."
Dunagan's darkened, droopy eyes look up to Dierik who is now presenting him with yet another challenge. Exhausted from the long watch he stood in the morning and the blood of strangers coats his hands a reminder of his tireless efforts, the Dwarf shakes his head at the offer. "Ye don't want me to work on that right now." The forgemaster quickly finishes his meal and turns towards the river. He brings with him a pristine white washrag to its shore. He strips down to his loincloth and begins to bathe in its waters, removing the dirt and grime from the day prior. The blood that has caked in his nails proves the hardest to remove. He washes them vigorously, hoping to wash away the horrors he witnessed today. Torag only knows how this pales in comparison to what happened to Koldukar... I can only imagine. After his bath, Dunagan retires to his tent. Although the day could have provided countless nightmares for any man or dwarf, Dunagan swiftly drifts off into a dreamless sleep.
"Mending a body should be no harder than mending a blade, aye?" Dunagan hops off Cornalium and saunters towards the caravan before him. He is more focused on the arms and armor of the troupe rather than the wounds. Trying to pry his eyes from the chinks in the mail and pondering what had caused them, he murmurs a quick prayer to Torag. "Flesh be steel in my eyes. Provide me focus and guidance for this task."
Walking between the carts that haul the wounded, the dwarf looks back and forth, searching for the most gravely wounded. Seeing a young dwarven woman dressed in mangled chain, and with a face as pale as a high moon, Dunagan stops. He quickly rushes to her and searches for the bleed. The forgemaster's gnarled hands, more suited to the bending of steel rather than the mending of flesh, peels away the chainmail from her wounds, bringing out pieces of wool from the shirt and flesh beneath with it. At first he seems to be causing more damage than good. A panic begins to grow across his face and his hands start to shake. His eyes grow large as they trace along the gaping, darkened hatchet wound in her side. The wound has become caked with dirt and dried blood, but every time the woman breathes it oozes more blood on to the red-stained cart. Inhaling and exhaling loudly, Dunagan calms his nerves, Flesh be steel in my eyes... Flesh be steel... Suddenly the forgemaster begins to work in a feverish frenzy. He grabs a few nearby make-shift bandages and wraps them around the lady's torso. He pulls the bandages tight, stemming the bleeding, but the woman slips further and further from this world. Her auburn hair darkening as the last hints of pink drain from her cheeks. "Torag heed me now! Mend this flesh as you have shown me to mend steel," The forgemaster shouts as he wipes the stringy blood covered bangs from her face. Suddenly, as if the Dwarf Father had been petitioned by Hrilga herself, Dunagan's hands glow blue.
The blue light sizzles and crackles as if it were wet wood had been thrown into a bed of red hot coals. The light does not burn the dwarven fighter before Dunagan, but instead brings the red flush back to her face. Her breathing becomes more steady, but she doesn't wake. Dunagan listens closely to hear her heart and it is strong. He looks towards Kelya who has made her way to the the wounded and smiles widely.
Sorry about that, I had quite a bit to catch up on after a crazy weekend. Maybe I looked at the map wrong, but I thought I saw some sort of keep nearby the Fallenford. Ah yes, now that I look at it again, it is Castle Firrine. Sounds good for the check. I'll roleplay that out when/if we get there =)
"Girl, I hope he does not expect more than a copper for such a child's toy. An orc would be a mighty fool to be so easily deceived. When we get a chance, I'd offer you to feel the difference between that horse hair and a true dwarven beard." Dunagan nods to Pellius, "Torag seems fit to make our work effortless this day, if these bells do indeed ring true. For we wont have to go far to ensure these men proper burials"
The map was much appreciated and looks great! That profile was awesome. I wish I could write detailed character descriptions like that. I swear, it seems like every time I read a post of yours, DM Tadpole, that is over 2 paragraphs, I have to pull up the dictionary. I'd like a profile on Callan, but Kelya Fylessi would be just as great =).
Dunagan remains eerily quiet during the recovery of the bodies. He simply watches the horizon, waiting for an orcish ambush. He wheels Cornalium left and right trying to get the horse to face in the proper direction for him to get a clear look ahead. The horse is quite spooked by all the commotion and is becoming harder and harder for the dwarf to control. Luckily, he had Sard hitched to the rest of the caravan and wasn't guiding her along this time. ---------- During the quick rest provided for lunch, Dunagan takes a quick look at Ironcoffer's armor. He takes note of the damage and thinks on how to repair it with the limited resources he has on the road. I may be able to fix it here, but if we stop in Fallenford it should only take me a few hours. ... ----------
Dunagan heaves himself up on to Cornalium. He lightly tugs Sard forward with her burden. Each and every time the caravan begins to move it is quite a spectacle to see these headstrong three butt heads, each as stubborn as the next. The most unusual thing about the process is that the Dwarf never gets frustrated or exhausted from the ordeal. Any lesser man or dwarf would be quite fed up with the whole situation by now, but Dunagan seems to be blessed with a virtuous patience when it comes to getting what needs to be done, done. As Karannah trots past with her full beard, Dunagan's mouth drops agape. Everything he was in the middle of doing suddenly comes to halt. No words come from his mouth as he watches in astonishment. As the Magus comes riding up to his side, his face slowly turns to anger. "No time ta' be joking. Are ya all that jaded to the situation we are in? Do none of ya hear the funeral bells ahead? Or feel the weight of the dead being hauled behind us?" He shouts out at the guard, "An where in the sodding wet coals of Nar-Voth did you get that thing, girl!?"
Dunagan perks up when he sees the bodies wash past him. He looks upstream trying to make out their assailants while riding towards Pyotr and Bonegrit.
"Sir Ironcoffer, I should be able to fix your armor up, but I'd ask in return that you allow me to study your blade." "Hah! You couldn't pay me a hundred gold a day to pass up having a look at that blade of yours," Dunagan retorts at the offer of gold and is dead serious. He strokes his beard and cracks a smile at Dierik's words that come next. Eventually he speaks up after pondering the subject, "Very wise words. We are all but the outcome of our actions not our words. Good arms and armor do not speak and yet they still accomplish much. A legacy is not created with pleasantries and platitudes, but by force of will!"
The city-life suddenly snaps back into the Dwarf after the adrenaline of combat begins to fade. His jest turns to a stern look as he watches Dierik try to affix the broken spaulder to his armor. The forgemaster speaks up after Dierik finishes, "Sir Ironcoffer, I should be able to fix your armor up, but I'd ask in return that you allow me to study your blade." When the others head towards their mount, Dunagan tugs the defeated knight's make-shift leash, leading the knight towards Cornalium. The Dwarf clamors on top of Cornalium with the Knight Captain trailing behind. The Dwarf and his "mighty steed" make their way alongside the others headed towards the camp. Dunagan tries to keep Cornalium at a slow pace, but the horse seems to be just stubborn enough to keep Haisnar of balance by a sharp tug every so often.
BTW, I don't want to confuse anyone. You can still handle an animal untrained. You just can't teach it with an untrained check:
So using a known trick (handle animal) is always an automatic success (with take 10) if you aren't an ugly Dwarf (aka negative charisma bonus). This changes if the animal is hurt, thus increasing the DC by 2 (still doable if you are sexy like Delk).
"Or we could give him to the Orcs as a show of good faith." The Dwarf chuckles as his steel-like fingers push into the knight's forearms, holding his hands steady in preparation for the make-shift shackles.
Or maybe dogs have an animal trait that allows humans to use Handle Animal unskilled on them? I think the Handle Animal skill primarily covers complex tricks that 'will' happen pretty much no matter what.... I don't know how many times I have to call my dog before she comes, but I would say she knows how to come. Also, could you coax your dogs through a burning house or keep them heeled at your feet when a rabbit runs by? It's the tricky stuff like this that Handle Animal covers, but it is just a game and it can't possibly cover the many nuances of real life. All the game is saying is that its hard as f&@$ to train animals to be disciplined machines of war, hunting, etc. It is why people get paid to raise guide dogs or drug sniffing dogs, because it is a skill that not everyone can do. EDIT: By the way, I think in today's world we all have a bit of bardic knowledge, thanks to the internet. I have 0 skill in mechanics, but just a few months ago I replaced my window regulator on my Jeep by watching a youtube video.
Cooking really shouldn't be compared to handle animal. Handle animal is a complex task that requires some experience and training to yield any success. Thus, according to the rules, it should not be rolled untrained (unless you are a bard). However, ride and cook are great to compare! If the horse knows 'come,' it would indeed just take the command for the horse to come. The command being a whistle if trained that way. If Pellius' horse is combat trained, then it would know how to come: Combat Training (DC 20) An animal trained to bear a rider into combat knows the tricks attack, come, defend, down, guard, and heel.
Dunagan sighs as the fight comes to an end with a brilliant blast of colorful lights. With a few steps he maneuver's himself behind Haisnar and begins to pull the knight's arms back.
"Anyone got some spare rope so I can tie this fella up?"
I'm finally able to devote some time to the game =) Great RP... Just waiting for my alignment to start shifting to Lawful Neutral. It is easy to be 'good' in a good aligned city... another thing to be good in the wilds.
Dunagan looks flabbergasted, "What in the nine-hells do you mean boy? If you didn't want them to die, then why'd you hit 'em so hard?!" The dwarf barely takes his eyes off the battle before him. He watches closely as his fore-bearer's sword dances in Dierik's hands. The forgemaster conducts an almost scientific study of the blows of Haisnar's against the shield and in turn Dierik's own blade. Each ring of steel on steel, each bend and nick the blades take. It is the experience of a lifetime for the cleric of Torag. Never before had he seen such magnificent arms used in battle before. As he studies them closer he begins to detect the magical properties.
Dunagan shrugs at Delkaneth, "What do you want lad? I can't read yer mind!" The dwarf watches as Dierik and Haisnar trade blows. The show is quite thrilling. He strokes his beard while he watches the contest and the man nearby bleeds into the dirt. It's not that the Dwarf is ignoring the man's wounds out of some evil desire to see him die, it's just that the forgemaster doesn't think himself a healer. The burns he healed on Zriorinta's hands were the only ones he was used to healing with the power of the God of the Forge. Sword wounds were a different story, usually healed by apothecaries on the very rare occasions that Dunagan would wield arms in defense of Vigil.
Dunagan marvels at the speed of the battle. "Thank you," the dwarf replies to Bonegrit's compliment. Never before had the forgemaster seen an enemy dispatched so quickly and soundly. He lets out a hearty laugh before he sprints off towards Sir Ironcoffer. His warhammer remains on his hip and his shield on his back. The Dwarf doesn't seem to be concerned about the few remaining goons.
The dwarf's pursed lips suddenly droop and the cacophony of sound bursting forth fades away, followed shortly with a huff. It is hard to tell if it came from the Dunagan or his horse. Slowly the two fall into line and form the line, but by this time it is far too late to make up for their display earlier. Upon arrival, the dwarf begins to pull 50ft of rope from his backpack and loops it in his hand. He stands there awkwardly with a large bunch of rope in his hand. The loops brush against the ground as he walks towards the group across from them. He lays the rope out between the two groups and gives them the 'evil eye.' "Don't be crossing this line ya hear... He looks back to the seconds and Dierik and shouts, "That should give them a clear line not to cross."
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