Dwalar Halfbeard's page

Sweet, level 3!

"That's interesting." She says while making her way toward the spot where the amulet fell. "Was the spirit tied to the artifact or was it the woman's fleeing her demise?"

"Me, I'm hopin' it was the amulet," Dwalar responds with upturned eyes. "Means it's really done."

He nods his agreement. "If we can work together, so can the faction 'eads."

Oh snap, I didn’t even realize that was another crit!

Crit damage: 1d8 ⇒ 4

”Course it had to be snakes,” he mutters as he turns to the big one. ”Couldn’ta been horses, or giant panda-people.”

Battleaxe vs giant snek: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9

"Come on!" Dwalar shouts challengingly. "Let's..." and promptly falls asleep. Fortunately Bhoors is quick to catch him and shake him awake. "H-huh? What? *grunt* Yah! Yer spells don't work on me!"

Battleaxe + inspiration: 1d20 + 4 + 1d6 ⇒ (20) + 4 + (2) = 26
Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

Crit damage: 1d8 ⇒ 1

Just so everyone knows, I recently had a death in the family so my posting will be spotty for the next few days.

"Yeh shouldn'a messed with us," Dwalar says as he closes in on the last remaining enemy. "Don't yeh know who we are? We're the Halfbeard's Clan!"

Battleaxe: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

So which ones are enemies?

Edits are actually based on time, not other posts. You can edit your post as much as you want until it's an hour old.

Dwalar draws his axe and, careful to step around the trap, rushes forward.

Battleaxe: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3

Dwalar stops in his tracks and pulls out his shield. "A trap?" he growls. "So what's'is really about, eh?"

Strange doesn't begin ta describe it, Dwalar thinks back, unsure if Nella's thought-speech travels both ways. But I'm glad it isn't jus' me.

Keep an eye out fer tails, 'e says. Dwalar follows in silence, hoping the drinks haven't dulled his senses too much. Like I'd know one. All this guile and stealth makes his axe hand itch.

Dwalar roars with laughter at the drunk, somewhat into his cups by now himself, as the man smashes a pile of dishes. After that, the absurdity of the new "nose" growing out of that unfortunate face is... too much, really. "No, no, stop," he manages to say, gasping for breath as he leans on a nearby patron for support, "I can't... Hahaha... can't take it..."

His good humor sobers quickly when the tiefling woman draws a crossbow. "Whoa, hey now, iss all in good fun. No need fer blood ta'night."

Curses. If we'd gotten full XP so far I'd have just leveled. Oh well, means I'll be 3 at the end!

"Is that all? Ah, gimme one o' them!" Dwalar shoulders his way into the ring of people. "Any, door, yut!"

Dex: 1d20 ⇒ 14

Dwalar votes to give the whole thing to Po, like originally promised.

With Bhoors's magic coursing through him, Dwalar raises his axe. "Haaaaaaaah!"-- only to see his target fall under his friends' assault. Darn. Oh well, a win's a win. He raises his axe to the crowd. "Bladefangs!"

Dwalar gestures with his free hand and mutters a short prayer. He pulls his axe free and charges, and the weapon glows with a golden light as it slices through the air.

Casting divine favor as a bonus action.

Battleaxe: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Radiant damage: 1d4 ⇒ 3

Dwalar smiles when his battle clothing-- what amounts to a stage costume-- is brought to him, although the dwarven runes and forge-themed drawings seem a bit much. Then he looks closer at the runes themselves. "Dwarf... Hammer... Dwarf... I not eating"? "Makes me metal"? "Ah come on," he protests when he puts it on. Did they pull words at random and slap them on?

* * * * *

He straps on his shield, but leaves his other hand free for now. "Yeaaaah!" he shouts enthusiastically to the crowd. "Yer racin' champion has returned! An' yeh know I'm a dwarf, cause it says so all over me costume. Yeeaaaaaah!'

Dwalar stays quiet during Shaldinari's emotional outburst against the Harper agent. I'm beginnin' ta see why she hates Harpers so much. Inwardly, though, he smiles at the mention of a kindly dwarf helping her in her lowest hour. Me kin! Doin' us proud in the eyes of an elf-- wish I knew who 'e was.

"And my axe! I agree. We should win the thing first, it's no good talkin' about it until then."

Dwalar’s mount dashes across the finish line, and a resounding cheer from the crowd tells the dwarf he’s won. ”Yeah!” He tosses his stick up into the air in celebration— then quickly leans to one side to avoid its fall. Chants of Halfbeard! Halfbeard! fill his ears, and he never bothers to wonder whether they’re real or imagined. He allows himself to be carried off with his team to the luxury box.

* * * * *

His brows furl at the veiled servant’s request. Plots within plots. Too much fer a simple dwarf. ”What d’yeh think?” he asks the others in a low voice, in a tone indicating his suspicion.

Dwalar surges ahead in the hopes of proving (again!) his unsurpassed skills as a dinosaur racer.

Dash 2, Animal Handling: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22

Obstacle: 1d20 ⇒ 17

"Oh, no yeh don't! Yah!" Dwalar smacks his mount's rump with his stick, trying to dash forward.

Animal Handling (Dash): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

Obstacle: 1d20 ⇒ 17

”Best give up now,” Dwalar tells (GV4) as they take off down the track. He brandishes his club-stick. ”Haven’t yeh heard o’ me? I was born with one o’ these in me hand!” He focuses on the other dinosaur’s head, hoping to make its rider veer off course to avoid his blow.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

Obstacle: 1d20 ⇒ 14

The track, cowed by his bluster, decides not to try and hamper Dwalar’s progress as he surges forward.

Dwalar, being a stout dwarf, chooses a similarly stout and strong-looking mount: a young triceratops.

Ready!

"A race! Don't yeh worry, I'm an old helm at these. We'll get yeh that gem, an' make no mistake!"

* * * * *

Dwalar turns to face the big man squarely. "Me friends might. I've 'ad me first already. Yeh might be too stupid ta recognize the beard, so lemme jus' say... It didn't go well fer the other teams that day."

That guy's voice doesn't sound at all like he looks. "Well yeh might say I'm an open book-- not much fer secrets. But I can't speak fer me friends." Dwalar looks pointedly at Bhoors.

Darn. Don’t suppose I could become a Gauntlet member retroactively? Lol

Dwalar’s eyes widen at Bol’s unexpected enthusiasm upon the group’s return. ”Never knew yeh were... one o’ them. Well this’d be the church fer it, I guess. We’re just glad that thing’s now under watchful eyes,” he adds, indicating the artifact. He turns to the others. ”Anyone else have someone ta talk ta? If there’s any more weirdness about, it could well be the last piece o’ this puzzle.”

Advantage: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

Oh well.

"Looks like yer all that's left," Dwalar growls to the remaining zombie. "Now die already, an' stay that way!"

Battleaxe: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

Dwalar continues to hack at the zombie, in the hopes it goes down faster than the last group did.

Battleaxe: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Advantage?: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Interposing his shield, Dwalar fights to his feet and swipes with his axe.

Stand up, swing.

Battleaxe: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
Advantage?: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

I don't think I have enough movement to spend half of it getting up, so that'll just be my turn.

Dex: 1d20 ⇒ 8
Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 3

Dwalar steps onto the ramp-- only to promptly lose his feet and slide to the bottom. "Bloody... seeping... gonna get yeh... Bah!" He scrambles to his feet after being dumped unceremoniously to the floor.

I'm waiting where Davin is.

Dwalar pushes past the others to place his shield in front. "More o' yeh, eh? Let's see if they're all so durable."

First attack against an adjacent Ally has disadvantage.

History, stonecunning: 1d20 - 1 + 2 ⇒ (1) - 1 + 2 = 2
Big fat nope.

"Lemme take a look, boy. Dwarven eyes are made fer underground!"

Perception, darkvision: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21

He looks around, "Joining those I brought with me into the Dark Unknown. Yep he's the Necromancer."

Dwalar nods. "That's me guess as well. Whoever wrote this is most likely the cause of all these shamblers. Let's hope these clues lead us ta where it was all happenin'."

"*ahem*... Ah, yeah. Great job everyone." Well there's gold I'll never get back. "Whassat? There a child out here?"

Ah... Oh yeah!" Dwalar drops his axe and pulls out the holy water he'd bought earlier. "Time ta eat oblivion, ya sack o' rot! Hah!"

Ranged attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
+2 if I can use my Strength on that instead. I'll let you roll the damage, since I don't know if it has the same effect or not.

These things just don't stop, Dwalar thinks, half in anger and half in amazement.

Battleaxe vs green: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
Advantage: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22

Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

How long does the spell last?

Battleaxe vs green: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
Advantage?: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21

Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9

Dex save + inspiration: 1d20 + 1d6 ⇒ (14) + (6) = 20

Dwalar throws up his shield, and assumes it's what blocks the worst of Bhoors's spell. He grins. "Hah! If I had me beard..."

Battleaxe vs green: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Advantage: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

Dwalar pushes his arm through the straps of his shield and draws his axe, moving toward the zombies. "Hold on, little lass, I'm comin'!"

Will spend my reaction to give the first attack against Nella disadvantage.

Sure, I'll take one for 10 gp. Kinda want to see what the difference is!

Ooo, very swanky!

"Call o' the Dead, eh? So they jus' get up an' leave, an' next thing yeh know they're all zombies?" Some kinda mind control, I guess? Sure seems like dark magic ta me.

"Hm," Dwalar grunts gravely (heh, undead pun). "Might be another one o' those death curse items is involved. How many people are we talkin' about, would yeh say?"

Dwalar will try to find Alastair Bol in the Market Ward.

Dwalar's eyes widen at Shaldinari's unexpected hostility. "Ah... yeah, I do." Does she want me outta the way fer this part, or somethin'? Or does she just hate Harpers? "Yeh wanna come along, in case yeh hear somethin' useful?"

History: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3

"Are there more o' these things then?"

"Well, it went like this," Dwalar begins, clearly glad for the opportunity to recount the tale. "First there was a chariot-type race. Mine didn't start goin' right away, because someone had sabotaged it! But I told them dinosaurs that they'd better get me ta the finish anyway, or they'd have me ta answer to, an' they got goin' in a hurry! Finished at the front, I did!

"Then there was this flyin' part-- it was a sorta relay thing, yeh see. Yeh had ta climb onta these flyin' type dinos, an' grab some rings that were set out. The others got their rings in a hurry, but wouldn't yeh know it, mine kept jumpin' around on their own. Couldn't grab any! Fortunately it's a team race, an' the rest o' me team got enough ta move on ta the next part.

"After that was this divin' sorta event, where there were bricks at the bottom o' the sea an' we had ta dive down an' get 'em. Well I'm not much fer divin' meself, so the others took ta the water an' me an' one other helped pull 'em back up. Course that was when the sea monster attacked-- left the other teams alone, yeh see, but went straight for us! I beat 'im back with me whip, the one I kept from the last event, cause we weren't allowed any other weapons. Bought me friends enough time ta bring up all the bricks an' keep goin'!

"The last part was this team race thing, with everyone on the back o' the same huge beast. So there we were, tearin' through the streets clingin' fer dear life onta this giant dino. One o' the other teams couldn't handle it, an' fell behind, so it was just us an' one other. Then, suddenly, someone from that other team puts some kinda hex on our ride! So it starts buckin' an' rearin', an' everybody else gets thrown off its back!" Dwalar thumps his chest proudly. "Cept me. I grabbed the thing by its collar at the last second, an' pulled meself back onta its back. If yeh've never tried ta steer a creature that's also tryin' ta kill yeh, well, it's not easy, I tell yeh that! But I figured it out an' rammed this lumbering hulk straight inta the path o' those cheatin' finger-wagglers, an' won the race!

"An' when I crossed the finish line, I forgot ta keep me grip, an' the beast bucked one last time. Fell right on me rump!" Dwalar's belly shakes with laughter. (You all get the distinct impression that parts of the story were made up, but Dwalar waves off any objections with comments like "Nah, it's true!" or "Well this one musta been different" or "Eh, yeh couldn't see it from the stands.")

I assume Dwalar will spend the rest of the evening discussing the race. Happy to skip to the following morning, it was just fun to write up his version of events. :-)