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Welcome to the group, and thanks for your services Mephit. I will read through the most recent posts again and get something up tomorrow. My posting will be spotty for the next week. I'm a cab driver, and I live in the Black Hills of South Dakota where currently the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally is going on, and I'm working 9 more 12+ hour shifts in a row. So, I'll do what I can, but no promises til next Sunday.
DM hasn't posted for almost two weeks.
"This traveler woman seems a might suspicious." Freija scratches her head, pausing a moment before continuing, her accent particularly thick. "Might be she's one o' those Whispering Way tha' Lorrimor wen' on abou'. Then again, migh' be she's naugh' bu' wha' the sherriff and such say she is."
"Our trip to see the Sheriff and the posting board was fruitless. Not a whit of anythin' we hadn' already heard." Freija shrugs and tosses her head, obviously annoyed. "You lot have any luck?"
"Thank ya for the offer about Gibbs, I think the fool won't do a thing without a crowd behin' im but, well thanks." The dwarf waits in the doorway for Sofia, content with either choice the woman makes, be it more questions or to leave.
"Well, thank you for your time Sheriff." She nods to the man and begins to lead Sofia out of the building. Once outside she says, "Seems like a dead end here, but I suppose we could go look at the notice board as we discussed earlier, unless you have another idea?"
"Greetings Sheriff. We just want to ask you a few things about our departed acquaintance Professor Lorrimor." Freija extends her hand to shake the man's hand as she speaks. "Mostly whether there was anything odd or suspicious about the circumstances. That sort o' thing." The dwarf realizes she's probably being overly direct, but has no idea how to fix the problem, her tongue more lead than silver.
"Don't expect me to woo these backwoods folks with honeyed words, but I can certainly escort Sofia." Freija shrugs and shakes her head. "I'm fine doing whichever tasks suit us," she says with a resolute nod.
"Ghosts in the old prison?" Freija shrugs, speaking between swallows of mead, a guarded look on her face. "Likely it's all foolish superstition, but I've seen enough of the dead in Saggorak to not discount the idea entirely." Finishing the cup, she pushes across the counter toward Sarianna, "I'll have one more for the road, not a half bad brew, for human mead." With that she turns to her companions. "Mayhap we should at least go see this memorial near the place?"
"That Gibs is a right fool," Freija says her demeanor softening as she responds. "Anyroad, ye have some mead or a stout ale?" The dwarf hesitates at asking any questions herself, knowing that she lacks the sort of finesse required to gain much of value.
"I've a mind ta visit with the innkeep and the Sheriff, but I don't know if that's more important than visiting the priests." Freija scratches her head and looks about obviously somewhat impatient, standing near the door. "Anyhow, I'm just ready to do somethin' other than stand abou' and talk, but I'll wait if need be."
"Bah. I see nothing. Let us be abou' our work before this damned storm changes this damned town from a mire to lake." With that, Freija walks down the hall toward the entrance of the domicile.
"That is damned strange." Freija says as she stands and moves to the door, peering about and listening intently. Upon hearing Elisa's suggestion she grasps her holy symbol and intones a phrase in Dwarven, then continues to peer about, a silver and yellow sheen now visible on her eyes.
Freija is unsurprised that a cabal of necromancers would kill someone looking into them, but surprised one would exist in this wayward backwoods. She remains quiet, though having nothing worth saying about the "Way." As to Elisa's suggestions, she responds, "I've the talent for either part'a the mission, but I feel I'd be more useful guardin' yer backs. Both o' these lasses seem to have the talent for findin' what we need in the books, but ye could use a strong shield." The dwarf gathers her shield, spear, and pack, heading for the door. "Let's be about it then."
"I'll gladly help you move from this place, you'd be a fool ta stay here. Without some reason for staying that is." Freija pauses, not wanting to seem too eager, then says "Why don't we have a look at these tomes causing all the consternation."
"Aye, I'm Freija Runeshield." she says when her name is called. The reading of the will and mention of the forbidden tomes in this 'Chest of Times' acts as a trigger to Freija's dark fascination with the undead. "I must read those books. Perhaps I'll stay in this Leipstadt once we complete our task. Especially if they have even more tomes." "Very well, I shall honor the wishes of your father." She says evenly, not wanting to show her shameful preoccupation with the lore of the undead.
DC 3 Sense Motive: Freija is nervous or excited about something concerning the present situation and trying to hide it. (Very, very poorly.)
Freija accepts the tea, absentmindedly drinking it while reading the book. A bit weaker than I'm used to. As her companions begin talking, she puts down the book and listens to the conversation. When the 'former student of Lorrimor' is mentioned, Freija pipes up "Tha' old man seemed a might too pompous and preenin' for my tastes."
As Kendra exits the room, Freija finds a corner in which to prop her spear and shield and lay down her pack. That finished, she peruses the shelves looking for a book or section on either dwarves or religion.
Freija is glad to have held her tongue during the confrontation with the smallfolk, the others calmed their nerves where Freija would have throttled the fools. Lorrimor might have been foolhardy, but he was no necromancer if mere zombies were beyond his power. That Gibs however, he might cause a real problem, Freija would have to keep an eye out for trouble that daft fool might cause. At the funeral, the dwarf decides to put in her bit, "He seemed a brave man, did Lorrimor, the one chance I met him. A bit foolhardy, aye, but brave." Her usually hard expression softens as she continues, "He seems to have made an impact on many lives, and that's as much as one can hope." Perhaps there was more to the old man that foolhardiness.
Sorry I didn't post last night, ended up working a double shift. Reading the new posts and working on my post now.
Freija nods to each of the others as they greet her, then retrieves her pack, shield, and spear. She follows the others out of the building and through the bog of a village. The stares of the villagers are beginning to offend the dwarf. "Much more o' this and someone's going to have a rough time in the mud." As the party crosses the bridge, Freija takes note of it's shoddiness, and the way it creaks unpleasantly under the weight of an armed and armored dwarf. She decides that she'll mend the ramshackle construction if she's in this gods forsaken town for very long, if only for her own safety. At the gate, Freija politely makes the symbol of Pharasma, followed by that of Magrim. Though Magrim keeps the souls of dwarves in his Cloister in Heaven, Pharasma sends the souls to him at their time of death, and is respected by his priesthood. She takes in the scene of the priest and scant townsfolk, deciding that something must be wrong with either this town or humans as a whole to have so few attend a funeral. Though disconcerted by the human woman's hug, Freija has seen enough funerals to merely accept the gesture and nod. As to the question of pallbearing, she merely answers, "Aye."
Freija's sharp ears catch the conversation in the now nearly empty inn, and she decides she may as well introduce herself. "No need to ruffle feathers any further, though." She decides her opinion of the old fool of a professor will remain unvoiced. "I hear yer tellin' stories abou' the deceased, may as well add me own," the dwarf says as stands by the table. "I met him abou' nine years ago in ol' Saggorak, an abandoned Sky Fortress." The look on Freija's face turns bitter at the word abandoned, but she quickly regains composure. "He was being chased by sev'ral undead, zombies, that is. Anyhow... my group from Magrim's Cathedral found him runnin' and screamin' and put the dead back to rest. He was quite appreciative, least enough ta have me in 'is will, anyhow." At this point Freija realizes, she's only told a story and never actually introduced herself. "Name's Freija by the way, of Clan Runeshield, from down in Janderhoff near Varisia."
"Doh." Freija says under her breath at the old fool's outburst, continuing to eat the surprisingly good sausages. The second outburst changes her mind, all the smallfolk are dauh. The others, however, seem somewhat less foolish, for humans. She sees no point in joining them at present, however. There will be plenty of time for fraternization after the funeral.
"What grenbund dauh would live in thi' mud drenched bog? Don' even 'ave a proper stone road!" Freija muttered to herself as she trudged upon the muddy road, the town of Ravengro finally in sight. Smallfolk gawked as she passed through the gates, a female dwarf wearing scaled mail and bearing a shield and several weapons was no common sight in these parts. "Why'm I even comin' ta this funeral?" she thought, wandering through the town in search of the inn. "I'm a damned fool m'self." Eventually coming upon the Outward Inn, Freija leans her spear against the wall out side the door and intones a practiced phrase in dwarven as she grips the iron icon hanging from the fine steel chain about her neck. As she finishes the phrase a large globule of water appears just above her boots, falling and washing away much of the mud. Repeating this process twice more, she shakes her feet and steps into the common room, noting several odd looking humans eating about the room, as well as several locals and a matronly woman with the air of an innkeep. Closing the door behind her, she approaches the woman and says "Inkeep yes? I've a letter." Reaching into he belt pouch, she retrieves the somewhat sodden letter and presents it, taking the proffered key, then placing both key and letter in her pouch. "Thankye kindly. I'll take some o'tha' sausages I smell, and bread. Butter and honey if ye have it, thanks." The dwarf sits down at a nearby empty table, doffing her pack, but not bothering to take it upstairs. She thanks the innkeep once again upon receiving the food, eating it efficiently, though enjoying the flavor.
As a herolab user, that is much appreciated.
Any ETA on starting?
Varisian is likely the second most common language in Ustalav, but most of us speak it, so no pressure.
Freija is a Shieldbearer Warpriest and she'll be the frontline tank of the group. She'll be doing some aoe buffs, but many of her slots will be reserved for buffing her defenses (and occasionally offense) and healing herself. As for skills, she has excellent Perception and Knowledge: Religion. She also has Craft: Armor and Craft: Weapons, and will be ranking up spellcraft each level, since she plans to Craft Magical Arms and Armor later on. As to Lorrimor, Freija met him only once, nine years ago, when half of you were barely teenagers.
Reporting for duty. Thanks for the selection. |
