Flo Ra'Cir's page

Beltpouch(1 lbs): Small Steel Mirror, Smelling Salts.

Beltpouch(3 lbs): Wand of Cure Light Wounds(28 Charges), Potion(s) of Lead Blades, Sewing Needle, Magnet, Flint and Steel, Whetstone, Chalk(Various Colors)x20.

Masterwork Backpack(82.5 lbs): In(Top->Bot):Bag of Powder(4), Antidote Kit(6), Healer's Kit(3), Surgeon's Tools, Waterproof Bag, Empty Sack(2), Candle(5), Alchemist's Kindness(5), Soap, Thread(50'), Twine(50'), Unbinding the Fetters, Chronicler's Kit, Scroll Box(Letters), Chalkboard, Hammock; Out:Hemp Rope(150'), Climber's Kit, Hammer, Grappling Hook, Bedroll, Blanket, Canteen(2), Empty Jug.
57GP 13SP 4CP
~1.5 lbs

Total Weight Carried: 209 lbs
Carrying Capacity: L:<76, M:77-153, H:154-230, OH:230, OG:460, P/D:1150

Carrying Capacity: L:<129, M:130-260, H:261-390, P/D:1950

Grunyn is 94 years old, and looks it; years of traveling in the open sun have baked his already bronzed flesh into brick, with deep crags and creases surrounding his blue eyes. He typically keeps his bright yellow hair in a loose bun, but takes great care to braid his mustache and beard into three large parts. He wears functional leather pants and heavy, stout boots, with a simple undertunic beneath his armor, keeping his cloak and overshirt in his pack; the overstuffed knapsack, despite being crafted to dispense weight when properly strapped, is kept slung over one shoulder, ready to be dropped at a moment's notice. He has a blue banner shaped as a cape draped over his back, displaying a white, curled Sovereign Dragon, claws flat in the symbol of the Open Palm. A Silver Sword pin, token of minor success in the arena of Absalom, is pinned to his undertunic; Grunyn holds it as a very personal achievement, rather than a symbol of status as is often portrayed.

His large armor and numerous weapons accompany him at nearly all times, and he takes great pride in their maintenance and care:

Full Plate – Complete with pauldrons, greaves, and the various other pieces of massive armor, Grunyn wears it all, save for gauntlets; he keeps his hands open and bare. His palms have been tattooed blue, and they serve as his Holy Symbols of Irori. The arm and leg pieces are stylized into traditional Dwarven squares, engraved with ancient runes of protection. The breastplate, while bare on the back, is intricately designed on the chest; the entirety of Unbinding the Fetters has been translated into Dwarven and etched around the Open Palm, which has the Hammer of Torag superimposed over top, such that should the hand close, it would grip the hammer.

Dwarven Longhammer – Typically carried by the hand not holding his pack, the large head is decorated with Ancient Osiriani hieroglyphs; Grunyn is one of a long line of his clan to carry this ancestral weapon, which is said to have been forged by his twenty-seventh-great paternal grandfather during the time of the God-Kings.

Dwarven Boulder Helmet – A very large, flat and heavy helmet, it is fashioned for function over style, and was forged by his maternal great-grandfather.

Composite Longbow – Of obvious Elven design, Grunyn purchased this bow during a stint in Kyonin; if pressed, he will admit that it is not very Dwarven, but then again, Dwarves aren't known for their bows.

Waraxe and Maulaxe – Grunyn had these forged during his time in Highhelm; though new, he treats them with the same reverence as his heritage gear. They feature minimal designs, customized by their individual crafters; the Waraxe was alchemically silvered, while the Maulaxe was crafted from cold iron.

"Mule" - This equine of dubious pedigree was procured from Janderhoff; selective breeding of the neighboring Shoanti horses brought about this race of "war ponies," favored by the Dwarves for their bulk and grudging resolve. "Mule" is a particularly ugly mare, with an uneven, shaggy coat and ears a bit too long; grumpy and stubborn, but hard-working and resilient, Grunyn bonded with the pony immediately, naming her Mule as an endearing insult.

Grunyn believes in being a Dwarf; his racial identity defines the majority of his personality, and he has even based his faith around it. While he strives to perfect his body in accordance with Irorian tenants, he does so in Dwarven fashion. He is often gruff, and even more blunt than is typical of his kind. He also believes in hard lessons rather than gentle teachings, and chooses to spread the faith of Irori through his fists. He is not a loner, however; those who tolerate his roughshod ways find him a loyal and valuable friend, whose word is his bond and who will never fail to aid those in need, going so far as to take blows for them.

He believes the only way to truly reach perfection is to help others along the path. He seeks companions entering dangerous quests; by challenging himself, and promoting the well-being of his party, he believes he can reach the lofty goals of Irori while still maintaining Dwarven traditions. This dangerous outlook often leads to injury, and Grunyn has trained (and equipped) well for aiding the recuperation process of his allies, in addition to Irori's divine magical aid.

Grunyn prepares his spells with the dawn each day, spending an hour clad in full armor performing various martial poses. At least twice daily, he will comb and braid his facial hair, and spends at least as much time tending to “Mule.” He enjoys breakfast above all other meals, though keeps all foodstuffs simple and unembellished. He maintains strict vigilance with respect to his equipment, and will not allow his armor to become tarnished, or his few blades dull.

Life was good for Strokhaed, until an unfortunate khamaseen caught his wife in its grips. Heartbroken over her death, he retreated to the depths of the mines on a mid-life Gladdringgar, determined to place not his mark, but that of his wife, far below the surface of Garund. His children came together to talk him out of the suicidal quest, and he solemnly agreed to go live with Hurugar in Erekrus.

It was there he met Agna, Cleric of Torag and Grunyn's mother. Agna was ancestrally of the Taralu Dwarves; when the majority of her people fled the Shattered Range into the jungles of Mwangi, her clan had migrated north, merging over the centuries with the Pahmet and bringing their natural arcane resistance to bear on the monstrosities rolling out from the Fleshforges of Nex. Agna had pledged to Torag at a young age, and though more common were the followers of Irori, her family were no less pleased. She saw in Strokhaed a devout, noble Dwarf, a proud specimen of his race, but torn apart by heartache and grief. She was smitten, and warmed his bed not long after.
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Grunyn's childhood was typical, aside from having an aging father. He spent much of his time with clergy, learning from his mother and aunt the faith of the Dwarves and the duty of the Pahmet in guarding the sacred necropolis. As he grew tall and stout, his father, who had taken a minor guard role, began training him for combat; though the years had worn his edge, Stokhaed was still an apt warrior. Grunyn's large bulk, however, quickly proved burdensome to the dexterous styles of the desert Dwarves; he was more suited to those weapons praised by Torag and his mother, and his father was happy to switch focus.

Grunyn was also deeply interested in the history of his people, and not just that of the Pahmet; as he grew older, so too did his desire to learn more. Fortunately, his half-brother welcomed him to the Monastery of Tar Kuata, where a great repository of Dwarven lore was held.

He spent much of his young adulthood with the monks. At first, his interest was limited to the historical archives, but as the years wore on, he became more immersed in temple life. He found the tenants of Irori to be worthy guidelines for living life, and as he came to interpret their meanings, he saw little that would prevent him from maintaining Dwarven traditions while following the teachings of the Master of Masters.

The Ouat, and his half-brother Rogar, did not agree. Grunyn was scorned for his reliance on armor, and chastised regularly for using weapons other than his own body. For his part, Grunyn took the resistance with stride, continuing his daily routine. He would spar with the monks in their bare-fisted style, attend the daily meditations, and recite the teachings of Irori like any other aspirant; but in his down time, when the others would practice martial styles, nimble dodges, and feats of acrobatics, Grunyn would find quiet all his own, perfecting his proficiency in the ancient hammers and axes of his people.
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It was the seventeenth installation ceremony Grunyn had sat and witnessed since his joining the monastery. He watched with solemn pride as a new class of monks graduated from their training and were sent upon their own paths towards enlightenment. And as so many times in the past, Grunyn was not invited to participate. He was a known figure at Tar Kuata, a warning to those initiates of how not to behave if they expected to continue training. Patient though he was, Grunyn had finally met his match.

When the ceremony had concluded, Grunyn pressed his kinsman, along with the rest of the masters. For several years, he had assisted the novices with the basics of martial arts, and had been quite valuable in maintaining and restoring their ancient library.

”Grunyn, you know as well as I that you do not belong here.” His brother, clean shaven and garbed in the standard monk robes, addressed him before the leaders. ”You refuse to let go of the teachings of this world, and embrace the divine practices of the Perfect Man. We have tried with you, Grunyn, but you have not tried with us.”

Unable to contain his festering ire any longer, Grunyn seized upon his half-brother's robe, yanking him close and forcing the elder Dwarf to crane his next to look upon the tall younger man.

”I am a Dwarf!” Grunyn released the monk, and beat upon his own chest as he spoke. ”Our people have existed since before the sun left the sky in the ancient days! We have traveled from the depths of the Darklands, guided by the wisdom of General Taargik to stand upon the surface and claim our place among the peoples here. And our ancestors, the Pahmet; we have guarded and protected the secrets of the Pharaohs for eons! You dare to say I do not belong?”

Grunyn paced across the hall, gathering his warhammer and presenting the head to the gathered monks. ”This weapon has been in my family for thousands of years. Though the language is lost to me, the story is well known. My grand ancestor forged this powerful weapon to aid his people, our people, through the trials that have befallen this great land. You ask that I cast aside this weapon? You say that Irori will not tolerate less than perfection, that I must adhere only to what you teach and not what I am? I say that you have forgotten who you are! Where are your beards? Where is the joyous laughter and songs of our people? Where is the hammer, the steel, the forge?!”

With a roar, Grunyn swung the heavy hammer into the nearest table, splintering the wood and sending shrapnel violently hurling across the space. ”I am a Dwarf! This hammer, these axes, my armor...these are the tools of our people! It is to this that I am loyal, to this I was born.”

Gingerly replacing the weapon, Grunyn confidently strode to the assembled council, bowing deeply before their shocked expressions. ”I say this to you now, in this shrine of our Lord: I vow to constantly improve myself. I vow to aid those who seek teachings in the ways of Irori. I vow to live the remainder of my days towards becoming the most perfect version of myself I can be. And I say this without hesitation; I vow, forever, to be a Dwarf!”

A preternatural silence swept the room, as the lights gained an unearthly blue hue. Grunyn stood still as a while palm print emblazoned itself upon his chest, glowing brightly in the sudden dim. A voice spoke from nowhere; calm, assured, and so inimitably perfect as to bring tears to the eyes of those who heard it. It spoke one, simple phrase.

”And a Dwarf you shall be.”
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Blessed by his god, Grunyn continued life at the temple for five years; though never given ceremony, no monk questioned his worthiness, even as his style conflicted with their teachings. Grunyn was given the appellation “the Mossless” by the elder council, for despite the heavy encumbrance he wore and the rigidity of his stance, no plant had time to grow upon his stony demeanor. He even earned first place in their yearly martial tournament, knocking every opponent out of the ring in the first moments.

Ultimately, Grunyn had reached the end of his days at the monastery; he could no longer better his combat style in the peaceful place, and he had exhausted the library of its lore. He bid his farewells to his kinsman, and embarked upon his own quest for enlightenment.
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Grunyn met with his half-brother Lonorlug, and explained his desire to travel across Golarion, seeking out their people in other lands; he would begin by traveling south, to find the settlements of his mother's tribe in the Mwangi Expanse. Lonorlug had principle control over the mines, and was far more savvy a businessman than Grunyn; he agreed to fund an expedition as far as Kibwe, with hope of establishing a trade arrangement, and would accompany Grunyn.

For Dwarves, mountains are home, and it was a natural stop to make when the party arrived in Erekrus. It took little convincing for Agna to agree to visit her ancestors, and Hurugar, to assuage her father's worry, took leave of her church to travel as well; Strokhaed had little choice but to come along.

Crossing the wilds of Katapesh, the house of Strokhaed and fellow Dwarves made haste to the city of Solku; the expected Gnoll ambush had claimed just two members of the caravan, and they were stopped only briefly behind the curtain walls before striking out across the last of the range, having picked up a Sarenraen Cleric on the way.

Many people would complain that the months of travel through dangerous climes are the worst parts of an adventure; not only does danger lie at around every corner, but the endless travel itself is more than draining. The lay Dwarves of this caravan, however, will tell the horrifying tales of many days being tortured by the repetitive, dogmatic arguments that could only occur among priests of so many varied, yet remarkably similar, deities. Grunyn was far and away the worst of the bunch, shutting down even his mother's arguments on the morals of Torag when it did not suit his personal world view; Endrem, the Sarenraen, would feud for hours at a time with the stalwart Irorian, who would go so far as to laugh at her views of, as he would phrase it, “pitying the weak.” Even Strokhaed, grown accustomed to hearing his wife and daughter bicker, had grown completely weary of the arguments, and none were more than glad than he to arrive in Kibwe, all alive and finally able to separate.
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Agna was as shocked as her son when they met their first Taralu Dwarf. Though his heritage was obvious, the man was adorned with numerous strange fetishes, tattoos, and piercings; his manner and garb was far more akin to those of the Zenj than those of the Pahmet.

Fascinated, and somewhat disturbed, the four priests left Lonorlug and Strokhaed to their own devices, and delved into the culture of the Taralu; for their part, the Taralu felt much the same, though were much more friendly and welcoming. They discovered a strange fascination with reptilians, particularly draconoids, alongside a very healthy and proud worship of ancestral spirits, something the Pahmet deeply understood.

Grunyn was dissatisfied, however; the Taralu history was largely oral, and extended only so far. Even his mother's history, from when her clan left the Shattered Range, went further, and Grunyn desired to know more. Grunyn fought hard, and was finally able to convince two Taralu Rangers to take him through the Expanse, to seek out the tribe of Mbe'ke Dwarves living in the Terwa Uplands.

Lonorlug had made great success, and readily equipped Grunyn with supplies, feeling indebted for bringing him to such wealth. He left, returning with the caravan to Tar Kartua; the rest of the family remained, though Strokhaed would stay in Kibwe. His health had been waning, though not too severely, but could not bear to be so far from his wife as Osirion. The remaining six Dwarves set course westward.
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Grunyn's patience and resolve was put to proper use as the company traversed the Expanse; the journey from Erukrus to Kibwe was almost intolerably long, and the distance ahead was nearly double the length. Fortunately, the four priests were able to set aside many of their personal arguments in favor of questioning the Taralu about their religion, culture, and personal philosophies. The two guides had at first proved taciturn, but relentless pressings from the rest breached their inhibitions, and soon the days passed with intellectual conversations and shared cultural understandings. The guides were skilled, and the company saw little danger on their course; the Taralu had many connections with the native Mwangi humans, and safe passage was largely easy to acquire.

At the ancient Zenj city of Nantambu, one of the guides refused to go further; the Taralu's ancient emnity with the Mbe'ke finally rising to the surface. Hurugar, older than her stepmother, had grown weary of travel; she would stay in the city until her family returned. Grunyn, Agna, Endrem, and their guide, M'ben'gun, crossed through Rechiend's Plains and climbed the Terwa Uplands.
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This section is a heavy interpretation of the given lore of Golarion. If any information contained here contradicts future (or currently unknown) published materials/homebrew game setting, please ignore any and all parts you deem necessary.

What they found amid the mountains shook the foundations of their history, for there stood an operational Sky Citadel, maintained by Dwarves who held not the traditions of the Taralu, but instead worshiped Torag, mined for resources, and resembled “true” Dwarves more than either of the other two tribes. The company spent months among the Mbe'ke, where Grunyn learned of the true history of his people.

The Pahmet, Mbe'ke, and Taralu Dwarves were all descended from the same clan; when the massive migration began at Earthfall, and the early tribes bickered between themselves, a large swath of the population struck out on their own, seeking to continue their divine quest. Their path took them deep into the Darklands, down into the layer known as Sekamina, where the crossed vast distances, slowly advancing under Golarion's surface to emerge centuries later at Dongun Hold. They had lost contact with the rest of their race, and the precise timing was lost; who arrived at the surface first may forever remain unknown.

The Dwarves set upon building their society, when the horrifying war between Nex and Geb was reaching its height. Terror at the threats rapidly closing splintered the tribe; some traveled north, and became the Pahmet, while the majority fled into Mwangi. Agna's clan was the last to abandon Dongun Hold, to join their cousins in Osirion. The ancient enmity between the Mbe'ke and Taralu came during their struggles in the jungle, and the schism created the two tribes as they are currently. The traditionalist Mbe'ke moved westward, establishing their own Sky Citadel and resumed building Dwarven civilization. The Dwarves that currently occupy Dongun Hold are immigrants from the Five Kings Dwarves.
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Accompanied by a curious Mbe'ke archaeologist, a Bard known as Kor, the party traveled back to Kibwe, and made a trek across the Shattered Range into Alkenstar. They spent a brief time in Dongun Hold, though having no unique culture, the Dwarves there held little interest for the adventurers. It was an easy ride down the Ustradi river into Quantium, where a passenger galleon took them to Sothis.

With solemn farewells, Grunyn bid a tearful goodbye to his family; though his mother was still young, his journey would now lead him far from home, and it was unlikely he would see Strokhaed again in his lifetime. He watched the barge carrying his family upriver to Ipeq until it was but a spec in the distance, before boarding a transport, along with Kor, M'ben'gun, and Endrem, bound for Absalom.
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The party was only supposed to remain in the City at the Center of the World for three weeks; they had already arranged to be taken to Almas in Andoran, where they would continue into the Five Kings Mountains. Grunyn had been least interested in the city, until a tour of the Foreign Quarter led him to the Irorium.

The Arena was thrilling, with daily bouts testing the strength of many brave warriors. Grunyn was swift to discover the underside of the stage, and sought the true monks perfecting their arts below. The monks, much like the Ouat, found Grunyn's use of arms and armor distasteful, but could not deny the obvious blessings that their God bestowed upon him. Grunyn did not bother to win their favor, but found their routine comforting, often joining them in meditations and daily prayers. Content to stay for a while, and finding his companions enjoying their own entertainments, the party invested in a flophouse, living in the city for over five years. Grunyn entered into the spectacle of the Arena, and became immensely proud when he earned his Silver Sword. The monks were slighly displeased, not being fond of the showmanship and celebrity status of the event, but neither was Grunyn, and he held the accomplishment as his own, rather than a boastful affair.

Finally satisfied, Grunyn and his party departed, though Endrem, finding welcoming faithful and gaining increasing popularity as a priestess, opted to remain in the city to pursue her own ambitions. The now-three Dwarves set sail, this time bound for Cassomir.
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Grunyn had been having difficulties communicating as he traveled further north of Garund; fewer people spoke Osiriani, and even fewer Dwarven. Kor was a linguist, and proved most valuable, but, fearful that they might separate, Grunyn spent much of the time over water learning Taldane; he staunchly refused, however, to learn more than the basics of the language. He had also acquired an original Vudrani copy of Irori's holy text, ”Unbinding the Fetters,” and set Kor to work in translating the pure verse into Dwarven; Grunyn no longer trusted the historical validity of his peoples' works.

Heavy flooding had driven mud down from the Five Kings range, grinding barge traffic up the West Sellen river to a halt, and blocking even the most treacherous of mountain passes. The party was forced to join a lumber caravan at Woodsedge into Iadara; they could then cross to the western side of the peaks, and onto traversable terrain. The Dwarves spent a few weeks in the libraries of the Elvish capital, and Grunyn spent near the remainder of his grant on a great bow, expertly crafted and designed for strength.
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The trio wound their way through the mountains; eager to spend time in the seat of Dwarven civilization, they spent nearly a year in just reaching Highhelm. Kor held the party in Tar-Kazmukh for more than a month, studying the great arcane libraries of the Blue Warders. They were some three months in Larrad, for though Irori was scant mentioned, the necropolis was eerily reminiscent of Grunyn's home in Erekrus, and M'ben'gun found similar fascination in how the Magrimites apparently worshiped their ancestors, much as he did; both wrote immense letters to their families, and paid a hefty sum for their transport to the Winged Sandals of Absalom, from there assured to reach their destinations.

Sightseeing the great stone statues of Dwarven kings took them to Kovlar, and they tackled a quest into the undead infested ruins of Saggorak. Their savings replenished, the trio escorted an Anvilers' Guild caravan into Highelm.
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List form until I convert it to prose
- Highhelm for at least a decade, immersing himself in Dwarf culture.
- Highhelm-Kerse(and learned his race's role in the Accords)-Tamran-Kraggodan.
- Gladdringgar into the Darklands, where he left his mark (the breastpiece symbol) alongside a tribute to his father and his father's first wife.
- Janderhoff during the Runelord Incident of 4708, served as a guard (especially vs. Darklands). Met his Cavalier Mentor (Tien), learned the value of friendship. Heard of the terrible blight plaguing Riddleport, and feared for another Runelord. Left off to find a company to aid in their quest to defeat whatever it is.

Beltpouch 1
Beltpouch: 1gp, 0.5 lbs
Small Steel Mirror: 10gp, 0.5 lbs
Smelling Salts: 25gp, - lbs
36gp, 1 lb

Beltpouch 2
Beltpouch: 1gp, 0.5 lbs
Wand of Cure Light Wounds: 750gp, - lbs
Potion of Lead Blades x1: 50gp, - lbs
Sewing Needle: 0.5gp, - lbs
Magnet: 0.5gp, 0.5 lbs
Flint and Steel: 1gp, - lbs
Whetstone: 0.02gp, 1 lb
Chalk x20 (various colors): 0.2gp, 0.5 lbs
803.22gp, 3 lb

Backpack
Masterwork Backpack: 50gp, 4 lbs
Antidote Kit: 100gp, 3 lbs
Healer's Kit: 50gp, 1 lb
Surgeon's Tools: 20gp, 5 lbs
Alchemist's Kindness x5: 5gp, 0.3 lbs
Hemp Rope, 150': 3gp, 30 lbs
Climber's Kit: 80gp, 5 lbs
Grappling Hook: 1gp, 4 lbs
Bedroll: 0.1gp, 5 lbs
Blanket: 0.5gp, 3 lbs
Soap: 0.01gp, 0.5 lbs
Thread/Twine, 100': 0.02gp, 1 lb
Canteen x2: 4gp, 2 lbs
Holy Text: 25gp, 2 lbs
Chronicler's Kit: 40gp, 4.5 lbs
Scroll Box(Letters): 5gp, 1 lb
Chalkboard: 1gp, 2 lbs
Hammock: 0.1gp, 3 lbs
Empty Jug: 0.03gp, 0.5 lbs
Waterproof Bag: 0.5gp, 0.5 lbs
Empty Sack x2: 0.2gp, 1 lb
Candle(5): 0.05gp, - lbs
Bag of Powder(4): 0.04gp, 2 lbs
385.55gp, 80.3 lbs
Weight: 210 lbs

”War Mule”
War Pony: 35gp, Not Carried
Pack Saddle: 5gp, 15 lbs
Bit and Bridle: 2gp, 1 lb
Campsite Kit: 12gp, 80 lbs
Board Game(Siege): 5gp, 2 lbs
Domines(Stone): 10gp, 1 lb
Large Tent: 30gp, 40 lbs
Dandy Brush: 0.2gp, 2 lbs
Coffee Pot: 3gp, 4 lbs
Mess Kit: 0.2gp, 1 lb
Fishing Kit: 0.5gp, 3 lbs
Gear Maintenance Kit: 5gp, 2 lbs
Grooming Kit: 1gp, 2 lbs
Leeching Kit: 5gp, 5 lbs
Crowbar: 2gp, 5 lbs
Drill: 0.5gp, 1 lb
Folding Ladder: 2gp, 16 lbs
Folding Pole: 0.2gp, 10 lbs
Collapsible Plank: 0.4gp, 10 lbs
Portable Ram: 10gp, 20 lbs
Saw: 0.04gp, 2 lbs
Shovel: 2gp, 8 lbs
Sledge: 1gp, 10 lbs
Stretcher: 1gp, 10 lbs
Scholar's Outfit: 5gp, 6 lbs
Waterskin x4: 4gp, 16 lbs
Thurible: 50gp, 3 lbs
Incense x10: 10gp, 1 lb
Herbs x 10: 2gp, 1 lb
Block and Tackle: 5gp, 5 lbs
Cauldron: 1gp, 5 lbs
Casting Plaster: 1gp, 10 lbs
Sack of Candles (40): 0.4gp, 4.5 lbs
Candlestick x2: 0.02gp, 2 lbs
Waffle Iron: 1gp, 5 lbs
Tankard: 0.02gp, 1 lb
Teapot: 0.1gp, 1 lb
Bag of Beans (4lbs): 0.13gp, 4.5 lbs
Sack of Potatoes (5lbs): 0.15gp, 5.5 lbs
Sack of Turnips (5lbs): 0.15gp, 5.5 lbs
Bag of Citrus Fruit (3lbs): 0.28gp, 3.5 lbs
Bag of Ground Coffee Beans (4lbs): 0.42gp, 4.5 lbs
Bag of Tea Leaves (4lbs): 0.74gp, 4.5 lbs
Sack of Flour (10lbs): 0.3gp, 10.5 lbs
Bag of Garlic (1lb): 0.6gp, 1.5 lbs
Jar of Honey: 1.03gp, 1.5 lbs
Sack of Nuts (5lbs): 0.25gp, 5.5 lbs
Jar of Mint (2lbs): 1.03gp, 2.5 lbs
Empty Jug x3: 0.09gp, 1.5 lbs
Empty Sack x4: 0.4gp, 2 lb
Twine, 300': 0.06gp, 3 lbs
Canvas, 10sq.yd: 1gp, 10 lbs
219.17gp, 375 lbs
Remainder: 33.54gp

Consumed
Acid Flask x3: 30gp, 3 lbs
Alkali Flask x2: 30gp, 2 lbs
Alchemist's Fire x2: 40gp, 2 lbs
Tindertwig x5: 5gp, - lbs
Bloodblock: 25gp, - lbs
Bodybalm: 25gp, -lbs
Potion of Lead Blades x2: 100gp, - lbs
Potion of Shield x2: 100gp, - lbs
Potion of True Strike: 50gp, - lbs
Potion of Expeditious Retreat: 50gp, - lbs
Antidote Kit (4)
Healer's Kit (6)
Alchemist's Kindness (5)
Wand of Cure Light Wounds (22)
Banner Cape
Not Actually Consumed
“Loot” items he used while away; never actually existed.
2 x Potion of Guidance
2 x Potion of Resistance
Potion of Shield of Faith
Bag of 10 Pitons
Flask of Oil
13 x Iron Bar
Bag of Iron Nails
Box of 20 Arrowheads
2 x Fishing Net
2 x Waterskin
23 x Sack
Wedge of Cheese
Small Cask of Ale
Small Cask of Sausages
6 x Loaf of Bread
Bottle of Common Wine
Bottle of Good Wine