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Grok's spell winds down and he spits a mouthful of blood on the floor. He sheathes his Greatsword, pulls out his dagger to cut the bindings on the rest of the miners, his callloused hands caked with his blood and of the kobold's "We can handle a handful of kobolds, but not the whole hills. You lot, have you heard of a guy named Sharrowsmith? He came through here exploring these ruins" he says, as he bangs the symbol on his shoulder, guiding his divine favour to help close his wounds.
Grok's frightening tusked grin reveals his orc nature, his reverence to battle and violence fueling his blows. Foe after foe are his blessings, combat his great redeeming prayer. As the new kobold appears from the jungle and strikes with his rapier, Grok laughs "Ha! Late to the ball with that toothpick, princess?!". he swings his greatsword with unexpected skill and slashes at the kobold, his blade craving flesh. Blood from his wounds begin to take a toll on him, causing his grip to slip. Gorum praises battle, not suicide tactics, so he takes a backstep, goading the kobold in, and bangs his fist on his chest. His eyes darken and become red and his voice deepens. and his tusks grow longer in size and he growls "You have two choices! Die fleeing or die by my sword!".
Seeing his foes vanquished only to be replaced by more, Grok is almost pleased. Using his training he fends off his attacker.
Seeing that one of the kobolds has crossed his defense, Grok drops his longspear, "Rejoice, for your redemption is at hand!" draws his greatsword and strikes at the standing kobold.
Grok kneels down and mutters in prayer. "The clash of sword on shield is my song..." He stands up holding his spear in both hands, which start to swell and stretch out his armor buckles, until the armor itself begins to grow. Uncaring if the kobolds are able to hear him, audibly louder, Grok continues "I am in your armor, your blades... he grows impossibly in height size, brushing against low branches and rustling the foliage. Charging forward, his foots now thumping against the ground, Grok moves into position with his longspear, now yelling at the Kobolds, with an enormous longspear in his hands "Strike at your foes and I will guide your hand, for I thirst only for battle!” He strikes at one of the kobolds
"Even we were to entertain the idea to convert these Kobolds, I don't think we have the time nor is this the place. We need to get those miners free if we are to find Sharrowsmith" He draws his longspear "Gorum can make me grow twice as tall, and I can make them charge me, which easily let's you flank them. There might be more coming out of those stairs, so if a plant dragon, or your naked aunt comes out of there, be prepared for surprises" Turning to Xusius and Mordana "If you have any magic that you want to cast, I think now is the time"
Grok starts moving to the north side, steadying his anger, asking Gorum for his favor.
Still holding on to the bit of rope, Grok is almost stupefied. In a few seconds he dodged a trap, a beast came out and his team mates slayed it. Blinking a few times, he continues exaclty what he was doing without missing a beat murmuring "Can't get a moment's peace in this dammed jungle" He then proceeds to tie the rope securely around the statue "The first one holds on to this wile crossing the bridge, and ties it to the other statue" He then proceeds to walk towards the bridge, intent on crossing it
"Seems like he's been dead long enough to be plant food." Grok leans down and searches the miner's pockets for clues or if there is any indication of which mining company the miner belongs to. Grabbing hold of his spear he says "I say we move on and keep sharp" and turns to look around the clearing seeing if there are any more hidden plants or animals waiting to strike at them
Unaware of what was coming down in his direction, Grok was lucky to have the quick reactions of his teammates, after Xusius spell and Arbarath's warning, Grok was able to spot the flying creature. Longspear in hand, Grok's tactical sense tells him to be prepared to attack his foe, while clearing the way for Arbarath to strike when he has the chance. "Dezagh og ke!"
Orcish:
"Come and get it!" He is so thrilled that he reverts back to his native tongue.
Adjusting the straps on his weapons, Grok turns to Arbarath "We are not on the hot plains anymore and the valley seems to be shielded, maybe we will be safe without magic. You never know what might await us down there" Grok waits for Arbarath, Xusius and Mordana to start on the trail, closing up the rear, longspear in hand.
Taking Xusius's wand from his pack, he aims it at Mordana "No point in dying with one these still working", he says activating the wand until Mordana is fully healed.
Grok lays down his pack and stands propped against a tree. Experience taught him that taking watch sitting down is a mistake "I'll take first watch, and we rotate". The night progresses, and in the morning he sits in meditation, asking for Gorum's Favor. Once finished he draws his Greatsword and takes a few wild swings "Hah! New day, new challenge!". Gorum looks down at the path that Arbarath points. Looking down he looks for a better way down "That way looks much easier".
Grok settles the tip of his blade on the creature's neck, letting go some frustration at taking no role in killing it, but relieved Mordana survived. "That animal did a number on you, I'm sorry I was not quick enough to get in the way. You remained strong though, and that is to be respected" He reaches out and touches Mordana's shoulders "May Gorum give you strength for another battle"
"It's not much, but at least will let you stand up properly.". Turning to Arbarath "I have to say it's a pleasure watching you swing that balde around. Well done!" Grok smiles a tusky smile.
Kicking the cat's head again in frustration "I have a strong feeling we are close, but we have to be more careful. I can stand int he back and you Arbarath in front from now on, so we can protect both sides. What do you say we carry on till we find the Kobold camp, then camp near it?"
Grok's darksight allows him to clearly see the furry creature attacking Mordana, and although he was not quick enough to o protect her from being mailed, his battle instinct kicks in. Grok instinctively pulls the string which releases the Greatsword from his leather scabbard, his god's chosen weapon, which he grabs as he spins on his heel, guiding the heavy blade at the animal's neck, aiming to decapitate it in one swoop.
These boys from the Gold Crown were unlucky. He rests his spear on his shoulder and sighs. May Gorum guide them to battle in the afterlife... Turning to the rest of the party "Deeptreasure Company sending kobolds to hit their rival is more plausible than before." He kicks one of the creatures "Not sure what to make of these though" After seeing the contents of the logbooks, it seems clear they must follow the trail. "Fifteen miles, we can do that in a couple of hours, if we push onward now" With night falling, Grok is able to see in darkness, but to navigate a map is an altogether different thing.
Grok spits out the vile ichor as he fetches a large leaf nearby to clean the shaft of his longspear "Puah, abominations!" feeling his body invaded by whatever malady was in that creature, he shivers, but doesn't let his guard down. "Looks like these are gone" nodding to the creatures "but stay focused, there might be more. Check the tent and the wagons" He looks around to see if any more creatures are lurking around, while making sure the corpses on the ground are not coming back up, checking to see if there are any survivors.
Even though the diseased pus hits his face, Seeing his foe perish at a first lunge fuels Grok and his stout physique is able to fend it.
The reach from his long weapon might not keep him safe, but he is more angry at the remaining creature "Haha, Gorum would be pleased!" he says as he circles around the body of the monster, deftly flicking it off his spear. HE uses that momentum to thrust at the remaining monster.
As the group approaches the narrow valley, Grok's nose picks up on the scent of death. "I smell rot " Grok says as he draws his longspear. As Grok sees the carnage his muscles tense, anticipating trouble, and the side of him that thirsts for battle starts rattling its cage, making him smile. As the group delves deeper into the gorge and finally sees the creatures feasting on the corpses. "Back to the hell that spawned you, Fiends!" He shouts, As he lunges forward striking at the nearest one.
Gorum, taking refuge in the cool night air, with the edge of his shield takes a swath of earth. With a prayer and a waive of his hand, water materializes.
He kneels down, refilling his water skin, and takes large gulps before refilling it. "I understand the sentiment Arbarath, but my faith does not allow me. I know Gorum is tempering me for battle ahead. If He chooses to bring my death by roasting me on these Hills, so be it"
Travelling through the Bandu Hills was like walking into a living fire the cancerous sun weighing down on Grok.
“The clash of sword on shield is my song,
Grok and his companions endured the rising sun, the scorching heat, in the hopes that the sun would finally fall, Grok and his companions continued to walk through the Bandu Hills. The night bringing a relief to the heat of the day, but bringing with it the pain of the cold of the night. "I'll take a wave from that wand, Xusius, if you're still offering"
"We've wasted enough time!" Grok growls at Mordana "Blast this land and blast this heat, Sharrowsmith might be in trouble and I'm not waiting till night, we head out now, the sooner we are out, the better" He draws his greatsword and drives it into the ground kneeling and murmuring. "Grant me your favor Gorum, and I will give you glory in battle" Nothing seems to happen for a moment, but then Grok stands, his hands open and glistening with a metal sheen. He moves to Mordana and Xusius and almost forcefully grabs both their shoulders. "You now have Gorums favor, you have nothing to fear from the heat of this blasted land". Mordana and Xusius suddenly feel like they would be as comfortable as if they were in a cool comfortable cellar, instead of the sticky heat of the Bandy hills.
On hearing Arbarath's comment, Grok smiled, his orc tusk prominent. He put on his steel helmet and hefted his Greatsword "I've heard Barbarians from the desert of Casmaron are tough, show me. As for taking my snail mail, I follow the Lord in Iron, not Lord in underpants" Grok winks at his pun and sets out, not waiting for a reply.
@Mordana - You're the one with the highest Charisma, so I'd say go for it,
@Xusius - You have high knowledge History and you provided good insight in the beginning, roleplay a History perhaps involving the mining companies I'd say first come first served, or else Grok flips the table on the Praetor (literally) :D
Grok's patience is thinning with the conversation "We can handle ourselves if we need to, the Lord in Iron is with us" this last sentence ring with Grok's Greatsword being unsheathed from its scabbard. Grok slams his fist on his chest on the holy symbol of the Sword in the Mountain, and suddenly the room appears to shrink, as Grok increases impossibly in size growing taller and wider, muscles bulging, until his head is near the ceiling.
He swings his Greatsword showing great control, even in such closed quarters, aiming the side of his blade at Amersanus's legs ( ) stopping just short of hitting him. "Good enough?" he smirks, and withdraws his blade. As he lets the spell end, he sheathes his sword back and folds his arms in front of his chest, hoping that's the end to the argument.
While Mordana tries to understand which direction to face, Grok steps in. "We came to find Sharrowsmith, but since he's stirred up the kobolds and that is causing you trouble, we now have a duty to help you." Grok folds his arms, thinking out loud "Kobolds don't raid without reason, they are either angry or scared of something. Sharrowsmith is not a troublemaker and he's alone, hard for him to be responsible. There's also the chance a mining company competitor is behind it." Unfolding his arms, Grok looks directly to Sylien "You have to protect the Fort and keep the order between the Deeptreasure and the Golden Crown in these hills. You have enough to deal with, so with your permission we can investigate why the kobolds are so agitated." "We ask for no resources and no supplies, only the information Sharrowsmith asked, and which of the mines he has gone exploring. Until the kobolds are dealth with, we do not leave" he turns to the other Pathfinders for approval
Being received with such disdain is a disappointing surprise for Grok. His demeanor immediately changes and a constant frown weighs on his brow. He was aware of some animosity towards Sharrowsmith, but not to so much as to disdain the whole Society. The aim fo the Society is to explore and help, after all. Once they are let into the Praetor's office, Grok sets down his bags in a nearby corner. He immediately dislikes Valacosti. Once Praetor Sylien explained the reason behind their animosity to him, given Sharrowsmith's actions and consequences, he was able to understand and relaxed slightly. Once Sylien inquired on the knowledge of the land and the surrounding areas, Grok knew that his level of eloquence was not enough to explain the situation, so he looked to his more knowledgeable companions. I guess we're on a competition of competence with this bonehead he thought.
Arriving at the fort, Grok unloads his things and offers to carry some of his fellow travellers load, looking to Xusius and Mordana. "Happy to carry things, need to stay big. However, if something needs to be blasted or a book needs reading, I'm counting on you two" He cracks his biggest grin and proceeds to the Fort. As they are stopped at the gate, Grok holding up two backpacks, plus his weapons on his back stands tall at almost 7ft tall, giving his most military tone "Grok Irontusk, on behalf of Aya Allahe, summoned here by Praetor Sylien. He should be expecting us" The sentry would easily see the cloak's clasp with the Glyph of the open road, identifying Grok as a member of the Grand Lodge
The trip down the Vanji is a mixture of pleasure and discomfort for Grok, for one he is able to rest his weary muscles, but the heat and the bugs make it a very uncomfortable trip. Once they switch to canoes, Grok offers to row, he has become bored and welcomes the activity. However with the heat rowing up these rivers is not an easy task. "Hey Arbarath" he yells to other canoe "Want to see who is the better rower?" He smiles as he starts speeding up.
[ooc]no wayfinder[ooc]
Grok stretches, the chais from under him complaining. "Seems like we have a trip to prepare for, with lots of rowing involved. He cracks his knuckles and smiles. Don't worry, we will find what happened to Sharrowsmith, and either bring him back or bring you news of him, hopefully good ones" Standing up and facing the rest of the party "I am ready for the journey and can leave right now, but I'll wait if you need more time to prepare"
"It must have been something bad, for a Fort commander to reply that way. Was Sharrowsmith known for being a troublemaker? Did he go alone or took help with him? Grok reaches out and grabs the rubbing. He can understand the words, but the meaning evades him.
"Sounds like something a dwarf would say, what do you make of it?” He leans over towards Mordana and Xusius, extending his hand grasping the rubbing. Travelling to Fort Bandu is by boat, you say? Glad to hear it, I would poach before we got there!how did
Towering over the traders and merchants of Nantambu, Grok walks the streets is loudly chewing on a long piece of sugarcane, spitting out the pulp without caring if it hits anyone. Anyone who would take offense quickly changes his mind seeing the almost 7ft tall Half-orc, carrying a small arsenal of large weapons on his back and a large shield with the symbol of Gorum. Grok arrives at the Sharrowsmith's Exports. Upon entering he slaps the back of his neck "The only thing worse than the heat are the bugs!" He pulls out his waterskin and drinks heavily, part of it dripping down his chin, with little regard for decorum. He makes his way to the back room, flashing his Pathfinder insignia to the clerk, as instructed, where he settles his things down and sits on the first chair he finds, waiting for someone to come in.
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