Hey guys, I got called to go out of town for a few days with work, posting may be sporadic as I'm not sure how much internet access I'll have. Feel free to bot me if required
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Helmund listened quietly, his arms crossed over his chest. When Kendra finished and looked up at them, he gave a small nod, thoughtful more than anything. “Right. That... well, that’s a lot to take in.” He scratched at his shaved head, looking between the others before speaking again. “Your father wasn’t just worried for no reason— it seems he was on to something. This Whispering Way... whatever their plan, we can't let them succeed.” He says, glancing at Quincy before turning to Jack. "I'll try to be less...dramatic from now on. You have to admit though, the facts seem to be stacking up to something big."
Helmund nods slowly, arms resting at his sides. “Strange timing, no doubt—but the Professor wouldn’t ask this of us lightly.” He glances at the chest, then to Kendra. “I’ll stay the month, and I’ll see the books to Lepidstadt when the time comes. You’ve got my word on that.” Turning slightly to Barek, he adds, “And you’re right to be wary. Somethin’ seems off in this town. The thugs at the funeral, accusations of necromancy... it just doesn't sit right.”
Helmund stays with his newfound companions for the most part, content to sit with an ale and listen to the conversations as they occur around him.
Hey guys, having a long day today. I'll get a gameplay post up tomorrow, just letting you know I'm still here
Dont go to hard on them, after all they are simple folk of low character. "Simple don't mean stupid, and low character doesn't justify cruelty. We bury a good man today. Let's not make excuses for those who tried to shame that." Helmund growls under his breath.
Not gonna lie, I was a little hopeful that we might get to fight those thugs haha. Those diplomacy rolls were amazing though, and the dialogue you guys added was great. Situation well-handled I'd say!
Helmund tightens his grip on the handle of the casket but stays silent. He watches the people in the crowd, eyes flicking from one angry face to the next as he tries to assess the farmers' next move.
Im so very glad you came. When I was looking for his journal, which I am still reading, I came across a piece of paper with 20 names on it. I had sent out a calling, though I know not why he listed you. Perhaps we will find out when his will is read by Vashion there. Helmund looks to Kendra, then Vashion. “He always had his reasons for everything,” he says, voice low and steady. “Even if he kept them close. If our names were on that list… then I trust it meant something.” he says. "C'mon, Helmund. Not you, Barek, you might break. Like, literally. You really should eat more, friend." He winks, grinning wryly. "Unless you think you can handle it. It's either you or Q." He steps forward quietly and without hesitation, taking up an empty space beside the casket.
Helmund spots Zokar and offers him a nod to say hello. He scans the crowd, picking out Kendra and waiting for a break in the conversation around her before stepping forward. "Kendra," he says as he approaches. "I was sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man. Helped more people than most ever will. You have my condolences." He pauses, as if debating whether or not to say more, then adds simply: "If there’s anything you need ... just say the word." With that, he steps back, not lingering. He finds a quiet spot near the edge of the gathering, folds his arms and keeps a respectful silence, eyes on the coffin.
Helmund awoke with a grunt, rubbing the sleep from his face. He stared blankly at the faint light filtering through the warped windowpane as he tried to grasp the last memories of the strange dream. After letting his thoughts linger for a few moments, he rose and crossed the room to the basin. The water inside was cold, and he didn’t ease into it — he splashed a handful straight onto his face, sucking in a sharp breath as it shocked him fully awake. He caught his reflection in the small mirror above the basin and reached up, fingers brushing the faint Kellid markings that ran like weathered scars along his jaw and neck — ritual lines, once inked deep but faded now with time. He rubbed them slowly, thoughtfully, as if grounding himself in that moment. He shook his head dismissively as he dressed himself, throwing on his dark wolfskin coat last before heading down to the common room. Downstairs, the warmth of the hearth was a welcome contrast to the cold air of his lodgings. Helmund stepped into the common room with a quiet nod to the innkeeper, eyes flicking over the scene: the constables, the farmer, the boys, the man in black and white finery. He noticed Quincy and Jack setting up some sort of card game, and after ordering himself some breakfast he moved to join them. "What’s the wager? Or are we just passing time 'til the funeral bell tolls?"
I'm still here. Life just be doing life stuffs Hope everything is OK!
Helmund smirks faintly and drains the last of his drink, setting the mug down with a quiet thunk. "Don’t get too comfortable with the good ale," he says, giving Quincey a grin. "Might spoil us." He stretches his shoulders, cracking his neck with a grunt. "Alright then. I’m turning in too. Been a long trip, and I’d rather not wake up with a back full of knots." With a brief nod to the group, he adds, "See you all in the morning. Try not to drink too much without me." Then he heads off, making his way up the stairs to his room
Glad you liked it! I had to say something, you gave me a good chuckle with your remarks about Helmund's grizzly bear voice lol
"Why would you call upon a bunch of unknown strangers for this? It just doesn't make sense." His voice, it's just the right level of deep to be considered normal average deep. Or perhaps just normal average? Hard to say... "Perhaps the old man didn't have many he called friend. Could just be that he was trying to pad out his funeral procession, nothing more." he shrugs, motioning toward the waitress. "I'll take an ale as well."
Recognizing the tongue of his father's people, Helmund shifts uncomfortably; clearly embarrassed that he isn't fluent enough to understand. "He was a good man. Helping others was just in his nature; a rare trait to be found, especially around here. I am called Helmund, it is good to meet you Barek. I assume you all are here for the funeral?" he says, pausing to allow for the rest of the group to introduce themselves.
Helmund had been quiet since arriving, keeping to himself as he handled the details of his stay. The talk of hot baths held little interest for him—he had endured far worse than road dust in his time—but the conversation by the hearth caught his ear. He stepped toward the fire, the flickering light casting shadows across the Kellid markings on his face. He didn’t speak at first, just listened. The strangers spoke of Lorrimor—of debts owed, of chance encounters. The tall man wearing leather armor said something in particular that made him pause. "One of those, 'right-place right-time' type deals, know what I mean?" Helmund let out a low grunt—half acknowledgment, half something else. He stopped near the edge of the group, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Aye,” he said, his voice rough as gravel. “That was the professor.” He studied the man with cold gray eyes. “Always had a knack for being where he was needed. Not sure if it was fate or just luck.” He shifted his gaze toward the others gathered at the hearth. “Sounds like he had a habit of pulling people from the fire.” He let the words hang for a moment before adding, “How did the rest of you come to know him?”
Hey guys, sorry to interject and interrupt the conversation with such a closed post, but I wanted to put something up and I figured at least making sure Helmund made it to the inn would be a good idea. I'm still not 100% down with the PbP ettiquette, so if I've committed a grave sin I'm truly sorry
Helmund steps into the Outward Inn, the door creaking shut behind him. The warmth of the hearth washes over him, but he pays it little mind—he is too busy casting his gaze across the room, taking in its occupants with quiet scrutiny. Near the fire, he notices the three men having a conversation. The tall man in leather armor has the bearing of a hunter, maybe a tracker. The robed one… harder to place. 'Magic? Secrets?' He keeps his thoughts to himself. The third, a pale young man with an air of quiet detachment. 'Scholar, maybe?' Nearby, he notices the woman in armor — no stranger to battle, judging by her posture. 'A fighter, then. Perhaps one worth knowing.' And then there’s the wild-haired woman with strangely colored eyes. Unusual... not necessarily a threat, but unnatural enough to put him on edge. He files it away. He strides to the bar, setting down a few coins. “Ale. Room for the night.” His voice is low and rough-edged, worn by years of hard living. Taking his drink, he moves to a table near the wall, where he can keep the whole room in view. He doesn’t speak first, instead listening to see if there is any mention of the Professor or the circumstances of his demise.
Helmund let the murmurs and snickers wash over him like a cool autumn breeze. He slowly speared one of the massive meatballs with his dagger, lifted it, and examined it with careful scrutiny. 'Werewolf Balls, huh?' he thought to himself before taking a huge bite and chewing thoughtfully. He washed it down with a deep swig of ale, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and turned his icy-blue gaze toward the whispering locals. A slow grin spread across his marked face. 'If these are werewolf balls,' he rumbled, his voice deep as distant thunder, 'then I expected them to be bigger.' He stabbed another meatball and gestured toward Zokar. 'Perhaps next time you should bring me the rest of the beast. I like to know if my meal had a spine before it ended up on my plate.' Helmund smirked, savouring the meal and the small sense of victory he felt from not letting the locals rouse his temper.
Token is good to go for me too
I've joined, I posted in the Roll20 chat and changed my nickname so hopefully I'm easy to find. Helmund is travelling from the north. ,
And hello, Two-hands, AJM, Nathan, and Crisischild! Should be a good one. Pretty cool we've got a couple of newbies here. Thanks Javell, hello to you too! Not gonna lie, I've been running the first module of Trail of the Hunted on the forums here for the past week and a bit and I'm loving it. I'm absolutely stoked to get the chance to see how it feels from the player side now.
I'm pretty sure Helmund is good to go
Here is my version of the requested combat summary Helmund Rieger AC:16 (Ff:12/Touch:14) CMD:16 HP:18/18
I'll include a separate rage summary belove in case that's easier Raging Helmund AC:14 (Ff:10/Touch:12) CMD:16 HP:20/20
Hey gang! Thanks so much for the opportunity GMMichael, this is my first ever shot at PbP from the player's seat so I'll be learning as I go but I promise I'll do my best. I'll make the adjustments to my sheet as soon as I get home to my PC, should be in a couple hours. I'm so excited for this, looking forward to getting to know you all (and your characters!).
Finally have my fluff done! Two-Hands here, presenting the complete profile for Helmund Rieger. I'll paste the backstory stuff below for ease of reference. Good luck to all the applicants, definitely see some stiff competition out here! Origins & Early Life:
Helmund Rieger was born in the north of Vieland, a land balanced on the edge of the Holds of Belkzen and the Worldwound. His father was a wandering Kellid warrior, a relic of a dying tribe, and his mother an provincial peasant—a woman who feared the dark with good reason. Helmund grew up in a household where monsters were not bedtime stories, but a very real threat. One fateful winter, a wandering hedge-witch came to their village, offering trinkets and charms in exchange for odd favours. The fields had been unkind to the Rieger family; the cold nights were almost unbearable on an empty stomach, and Helmund's father had been absent on a hunt for weeks. Desperate to change her fate, Helmund’s mother turned to the witch for aid. At first, the magic seemed to work—fortune smiled, and hope flickered anew. But soon after the witch vanished from town, darkness took root. She began to wither, her strength slowly fading. The villagers whispered of misfortune, but his father knew better. This was no mere twist of fate—this was the price of dealing with something that should never have been trusted. One night, Helmund awoke to the sound of steel rasping against stone, his father sharpening his greatsword by firelight. The old warrior’s face was carved from fury and grief as he muttered, “That witch stole from us. But she will pay her price in blood.” Together, father and son tracked the hedge-witch to a decrepit roadside hovel. His father confronted her—Helmund still remembers the way the fire cast her shadow too long on the stones. The fight was brutal. His father cut the witch down, driving her to her knees with steel and fury—but he did not grant the final blow. Instead, he thrust the bloodied sword into Helmund’s hands, his voice a low growl: “Finish it. This is the price of dealing with monsters.” They never went home. The village was a memory, swallowed by the past like footprints in the mire. Instead, Helmund and his father became wandering hunters, stalking the things that lurked in the dark. His father trained him in the only lessons that mattered—how to fight, how to kill, how to survive. But it was never enough. No matter how many monsters they cut down, his father was never satisfied. He took greater and greater risks, as if trying to outrun something unseen. In the end, the darkness caught up. One hunt went wrong, the kind that leaves no second chances. Helmund could only watch as his father fell, dragged into the abyss by the very horrors he had spent his life fighting. Alone, Helmund carried on. Because that was what his father had taught him. Because if he stopped, the monsters won. -------------------- A Tie to Professor Lorrimor:
Helmund first met Professor Petros Lorrimor in the back alleys of Lepistadt, on a night thick with rain. The scholar had taken a wrong turn, and the desperate men who surrounded him had no interest in books or reason—only blood and coin. Helmund stepped from the shadows before the first knife could fall. What followed was quick and brutal—bones breaking, bodies hitting the mud, and the professor left standing, bemused but unharmed. Lorrimor, ever the inquisitive mind, did not look at Helmund with fear, but with fascination. He saw something beyond brute force—a hunter’s instincts, a disciplined rage honed for a purpose. Curious, the professor offered work. Helmund, wary of scholars and their endless fascination with things best left buried, nearly refused. But Lorrimor sought knowledge not to wield it, but to use it as a weapon against the dark. That, at least, Helmund could respect. Over the years, their paths crossed again. Lorrimor aided Helmund in preparing for all manner of hunts, while Helmund protected the professor on some of his more dangerous investigations where able. Though he distrusted magic, he trusted the professor’s wisdom. Now, with Lorrimor dead, Helmund has come to Ravengro—not out of sentiment, but out of duty. He owes the man that much. -------------------- Personality & Beliefs: Superstitious but Pragmatic: He loathes magic but knows when it must be used. No Blind Faith, Only Steel: He places no trust in gods, clergy, or noblemen—titles and prayers do not make a man just. The world is cruel, and only those willing to stand against its horrors can carve their own justice. The Shield Between Darkness and the Weak: He does not fight for glory, but because someone must. The things that lurk in the shadows do not care for prayers or laws—only for prey. Helmund ensures that, where he stands, the innocent will not be hunted. A Hunter’s Mindset: He fights with cold, methodical fury. His rage is not mindless—it is a calculated storm that strikes with ruthless efficiency.
@ScorchedOne what a guy! That post with links is a godsend, nice work!. @GmMichael, nailed out decent sketch for my fluff, should have it complete in roughly 14hrs, give or take.
Two-Hands here with the crunch for my barbarian. I'm working on the fluff, just had to dig out the Rule of Fear book to get my head around Ustalav again before I write it out. I have the bare bones down, just want to make sure the details are correct. Side note, it's been a minute since I made a PF1E character; I think I've nailed the mechanical stuff, but if there are errors I'll make adjustments ASAP. |