Gruckalus Rugatonn's page

Sniffs the steeping tea in front of him, removes tea-ball, and leans back and takes a sip. After taking a moment to savor it, he speaks. His voice is old, cautious, and creaking.

"When you are the only thing standing 'tween you and your fellow Pathfinders being torn limb fer' limb by a walking-punching-killing statue. You will find yer lil' magics are hardly worth two bags of Firepelt dropin's. Guns rarely let you down - if you treat 'em right."

He takes another slow deliberate sip from his cup. He gives Kyros a brief - almost sympathetic - nod.

[Posting as Gruckalus "Teacup" Rugatonn]

Leaning on a nearby wall, his heavy long coat opened, the sour faced Chelish man with a beat up old musket strapped to his back nods his head solemnly. "I don't rightly care who is causing us trouble. Varasia is a big dang place, but I figure we'll be trippin' over trouble makers like goblins in a scrapyard. Who ever is standin' in the way of us unlocking the secrets of ol' - well they will have a short but loud conversation with my girl here. He pats the barrel of the musket affectionately.