"More fell creatures! Surrender or face the might of the Forge!" Harsk bellows, moving toward the direction the creatures went in.
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"Linge, Kristophe," Harsk says, "Do you know which way we are supposed to be headed?" The dwarf seems to be uneasy after seeing the mutated beast, and slightly sad to have had to kill the thing
"If we had been able to react faster, you would not have felt such a devastating blow...I am sorry" Harsk says, frowning...
Harsk shoves his way through the deep snow, moving adjacent to the creature and to Torval... He brings the hammer of his god down repeatedly upon the fallen creature.
bits of gore streak the silver armor of the dwarf and he then pulses out a wave of healing energy.
Harsk pushes through the first five feet of snow, moving slightly closer to the thing, and he then focuses on the inner warmth, the shard that Torag left within the dwarven people. "Vor Torag korda!" he shouts as he taps the backside of his warhammer against the anvil, the symbol of Torag he wears around his neck. Then he drops the hammer to the snow beside his leg, and he channels his worship into his palm, filling the cup of his hand with a green brown acid, which he hurls against the serpent.
"Face me creature and feel the might of Torag!" the dwarvish warrior says with feeling
Harsk is also resistant to cold, from his trait, but he has no real cold weather gear. simply because he doesn't notice the cold very much
Asta quickly scoops up the sword and follows the dwarf. "It's not like he's using it and if we can save his lady with his sword, I think he'd be happy," she argues. "Besides, I didn't mean to break his arm like that. My father tells me I don't know my own strength." Harsk's voice quavers slightly as he responds, "That is not the point. You have a sword and if the sword was able to help, he wouldn't be a statue. Taking from the dead is wrong." Seeing the chest, Harsk calls for a halt, "There is something half buried over here."
Harsk pulls his beard as he exclaims "Have ye no respect? The steel is his, and it obvi..." The creaking of the ice and then the shatter causes Harsk to blanch in disgust... "What were ye thinking, Asta? How do ye think the gods look upon such an act?" looking at the woman and the results of her greed, Harsk shakes his head and moves to walk towards where Kristoph shouted from. There be a fool, and a greedy woman, Torag grant me patience to help their souls
"That is likely true, but I doubt that will comfort the families of the dead, either way it is not ours." Harsk says simply, and then watches in a sort of horrified fascination as Asta attempts to steal from the dead guard. "What in the name of the forge are you doing?" he hisses as he walks over to her.
Harsk looks at the jewelry Linge has discovered, and the fallen bodies of the dead. "I know the money looks tempting, aye, that I know, but I'm certain the families of the ones who passed away could probably use it more."
I should quit being an adventurer... take up something more to my level of talent. Like a brewer... at least then I can have an excuse for missing absolutely everything.
Bringing his hammer around in a deadly curve at the zombie's knee, Harsk utters a swear, "Just fall down and die, blasted thing"
Harsk will attempt to get as close to both of the zombies as possible, trusting in his metal shell to offer him protection, trying to move between the undead and the other members of the party,
Harsk lashes out with his warhammer, but the ice beneath his feet makes his foot slide and causes his normally stable body to shift unexpectedly and his strike is worthless.
Harsk brings his weapons to bear, standing a step beside and behind Asta. he lifts his deities holy symbol and briefly kisses it. "Farthen Aruna."
Harsk looks on the corpses with a deep sadness filling his eyes, so many lives were ended without a clear point or purpose... His voice cracks a slight bit when he says, "open the carriage"
Stop! the dwarf says immediately, "They could just as easily be foes, turning to the others, he says "quickly, ready your weapons." Pulling out his helm, he screws it onto his bullet shaped head, then readies his warhammer and his heavy shield.
"I am a craftsman." The dwarf explains with a surprising amount of tenderness. "But today is not the day for me to speak with you on the subject, go to your homes, this weather is too cold for children to be outside." he says, gruff once more. He moves to walk towards the town exit once more, fat snowflakes encrusting his long beard.
Harsk looks at the group of children suspiciously with a sharp pull on his beard. "Should you children be out in this icy weather?" Looking these children in the eyes, he tries to figure out what they are doing out here and how much they are wearing sense motive:
Harsk will appropriate the sword on the way out, and will also pick up a few logs so they will have some fire-wood for the trip. as well as an oil lamp if he can afford it.
Harsk watches in awe as the man simply runs out of the room to track the creatures... "Perhaps.... someone should follow him? the dwarf says, slightly shocked
"Cold iron is likely the metal you are thinking of Miss Calynse. It is known for it's effectiveness against many fey creatures and certain creatures of the lower planes, demons I believe" Torval answers from his position standing back behind the others. Looking over their shoulders as Linge moves into the room, he watches as she checks over him and starts assessing the wounds that the Ulfen man has suffered. "Its a good thing you know so much...If we hadn't known this, we would be in much greater danger. Whoever can wield a sword best, please take it. Harsk seems to have let his cold shoulder slip for a few moments, and is quite impressed despite himself "Sir, we shall honor your weapon, and I vow that it shall be returned to you if at all possible."
"What did they look like, friend?" the gruff dwarf asks with a simple quirk of the mouth. "And where was this?"
Raising an eyebrow at Cal, Harsk sighs, "Well, its just around the corner from the tavern we were just at. The bar tender told us so...
"I will help to save the noblewoman." The dwarf says with conviction, and nods. his nut brown hair and fiery gaze, show that the he will not be dissuaded, by you or anyone
"I heard that recently there was a problem in the woods round here. An I wanted to volunteer my services." The gruff man has no time for nonsense and he gets right to the point. His armor and weaponry shine with the dampness of melting ice, and his eyes hold a stiff determination.
Harsk seems doubtful of the information provided, as he polishes off the rest of the food on his plate, but he knows that it is the very least he can do to look into the matters, after all. If there is life, it must be protected. "Indeed." is all he says as he stands, the head of his hammer gleaming dully in the firelight, and walks over to the bar with his mug and plate. "I shall see about doing what I can to help." With fresh food in his belly, he strokes his beard, tightens his pack and makes his way to the door. Nodding to the others he heads through.
"No, miss, I worship the god Torag, the world forger, the father of dwarves, and protector of civilization." he corrects, after swallowing the morsel of food.
Harsk ignores the human's rude question, dismissing it when the subject changes to the unnatural winter, "I didn't know this early cold snap was so special. I believe the weather is in the hands of the gods, so I don't know why you are all believing it is sinister." "I am Harsk, acolyte of the forge." The bearded man says simply describing his job, his faith, his beliefs and his purpose in four words.
Harsk turns his head very slowly, looking at Kristophe with a raised eyebrow. His hand comes up and softly tugs his beard, as he starts to compose a response
The dwarf has a small pool of water soaking into the floorboards beneath him, looking around at the other guests of the inn with a calm, and thoughtful expression. "Hello."
Harsk comes into the small village of Heldren with a heavy sigh. The sturdy dwarf grimaces, brushing the fat flakes out of his beard and off of the icy shoulders of his armor. Walking on his diminutive legs through deep snow, Harsk leaves a trough behind him as he heads towards what he can only assume is the local inn.
Arrrrgh, Everything else I do is focused on the /WISDOM/ stat except for channel energy, By Torag's Beard! EDIT The +1 was a leftover from one of my traits from a previous campaign Gone now
Hello, I'm Harsk Grunyarson, I'll be your healer and the resident rockbreaker.
"Thank you sir, I will do the best I can" the chestnut bearded short man says
Harsk the gruff and armored priest of Torag, the dwarf forger and earthshaker, Is ready to provide support for the friendly people he may meet in the north.
GM 8574 I have changed Harsk's background to fit the campaign, and changed my statistics to fit. :D as for the questions
Visiting, as a trial for a higher rank in the order of Torag Helping those in needTeam Player, but will not do evil. Also, Could you please make some sort of list of applicants? In other news, I am ready to play :D
As there are four people interested, Two barbarians, and Two Druids, I am thinking that playing a cleric would be favorable. Harsk Grunyarson is a cleric of Torag, His backstory is kind aimed towards the Rise of the Runelords campaign, but it will be changed after I return from work tonight ~6 hours or so. :D I hope this campaign goes well. -Death_Keeper [EDIT] I haven't read/played or really even heard of this campaign
Harsk is of course available in this campaign.
Witch-Doctor
We have lots of strong contenders, :) What's peoples personalities?
Harsk is stern but friendly, not especially sociable with strangers.
the dwarf trudges down the dusty road, throat dry and aching for a drink...
he whistles as he walks, sun shining on this great and holy day
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