Dango. Sorry to hear that, DM.
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Jorn frowns, replying, "I s'pose it's worth a shot."
Jorn assists in their search, carefully considering their options while mostly attempting to drone out Liath and Tiasar quibbling.
Jorn grabs his things with haste at Liath's beckoning. "Any news is bad news at this point," he says with a heavy frown. "Let's get movin'. He'll come right back t' ya, Tiasar? We should wait on th' edge o' town for him, at least."
I'm also okay with just skipping a day. Now that we've got the plan nailed own, Jorn would just spend the day getting ready and conserving his (and Tyr's!) strength.
Jorn sits at the bar in the Dragon's Hoard, nursing a mug of ale. "Yep," he replies to Thorum. "Sadly it wasn't just a social call. Ain't sure how this whole deal's gonna turn out," the druid admits as he swishes the alcohol around in his cup.
Jorn frowns, but stops stroking his beard to nod in agreement. "Can't think o' anythin' better meself, an' yer plan seems th' least likely t' backfire in our faces," he admits. "In th' meantime, we should rest an' get ready. I got a feelin' we're still gonna be in o'er our heads."
Jorn continues to think as the others discuss among themselves. Frustration and worry are clear on his face as he runs his fingers through his beard in a sort of nervous tick.
At Liath's mention of burning down the forest, Jorn looks absolutely livid. 'Ya could build a thousand homes with a wood like this, an' she'd burn th' whole thing t' the ground t' smoke out some bandits? I am gonna have t' keep an eye on that lass,' the druid thinks to himself. At the suggestion of joining the bandits, the dwarf seems less put off, but not by much. "Better chance o' that workin', but it's risky as all get-out" he admits. He listens carefully to the others as they speak, trying to think of his own possible plan.
Jorn sighs as the obviously dementia-riddled man. "Stay here, boy," the druid tells his animal companion, pointing to the ground. Tyr growls softly before nodding his over-sized head. "Won't do us any good if he starts flippin' his marbles o'er ya," he continues, patting Tyr on the head and handing him a small piece of jerky. That taken care of, Jorn moves to assist the guard in calming down his compatriot. "Ya need a hand, lad?"
Jorn passively watches the goings-on, nodding at the Lord's words. At Barbara's outburst, he can only cover his face with a hand, trying to ignore the headache he can feel coming on. "We'll help ya," he finally replies once the others have spoke their piece. "Honestly, ain't sure they'd just let us return t' where we came from, anyway. It's in e'erybody's best interests t' get rid o' 'em. Fools risk th' safety o' th' whole country for th' sake o' some coin? I ain't gonna be havin' that." The dwarf crosses his arms and nods deeply, his eyes shining with determination.
Jorn runs a hand through his beard, pondering the Lord's request. At Liath's overly enthusiastic response, he frowns a bit. "As yer pro'ly aware," the dwarf addresses Markov, "There's a load o' 'em. It'll likely take more than jus' the handful o' us." Though he's clearly not outright turning him down, the druid has very obvious reservations. "Unless ya got a trump card up yer sleeve, that is."
Worst case scenario, you use the Warhammer two-handed, and you just let go with one hand (a free action) to cast spells. It's then a free action to grab it with that hand again, and there's no statement in the feat (unlike for the Magus) that says you can't be using anything in your offhand to deliver the touch spell. I am very much looking forward to getting to levels where this guy can make use of this combo. :)
Jorn shrugs. "Tyr don't mind, do ya boy?" The infant tyrannosaurus replies with a low, happy growl, nuzzling his over-sized head into the dwarf's flank.
Jorn walks over to Tyr and pets the pup on the head, before offering a handful of the jerky he'd brought to the tyrannosaurus. "'at's a good boy," the dwarf says, to which Tyr growls happily and munches on the preserved meat. Turning to Stalkid and Tael, the druid says, "I guess we all got one o' those invitations. Sounds like it might be interestin', yeah? At th' worst, it's a free meal."
Once Jorn wakes, bathes and eats, he heads out to the barn to check on Tyr.
"Tyr's a good lad, ya won't have nothin' t' worry 'bout," the druid replies. "An' I'll likely take ya up on that place t' sleep here, meself."
"If ya mean Tyr," the dwarf butts in, "He ain't nothin' t' worry 'bout. Trained him meself. Ain't no more dangerous than a hungry dog," Jorn assures the innkeeper. "He is gonna need some place t' sleep t'night, though. If ya got a barn or somethin', Tyr won't touch nothin' in there 'less I tell him t', meself."
Jorn chortles at the question. "We're surrounded by nature, lass. Here more 'an most places, e'en." Leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, he continues, "The higher ups back home wanted me t' protect th' caravan, so here I am. I am nothin' if not loyal t' me clan and me home."
Jorn plops himself down in a seat. "Meal an' a drink for me, too," he says, enjoying the first chair that wasn't the bench of a cart for the first time in quite a while. "What kind o' ales ya got?" Outside the bar, Tyr waits patiently, tail wagging as he sniffs and observes the surrounding area. If it weren't for the fact that he was six foot long dinosaur, you could practically mistake the tyrannosaurus pup for a big dog.
Jorn sighs, glad to have guided the caravan to Bastion with only minimal problems. "Aye, I'll take ya up on that offer," the druid responds, instructing Tyr to stay put outside the establishment when they arrive. The dinosaur growls softly, a note of complaint in the sound, but does as he's told.
Jorn runs a hand through his beard. "I don't doubt it," he replies. "That said, we was pretty close t' th' city proper, weren't we? Wouldn't hurt us much t' just take 'em there. The folk o' Bastion could take care of 'em." The druid seems reluctant to kill the men, even though they had attempted to kill everyone in the caravan. With minimal injury and loss on their part, however, Jorn seems to have chosen to be a little lenient.
Jorn sighs as he stuffs the sling back into his belt, before whistling for Tyr. The tyrannosaur pup plods over to the dwarf, nuzzling his oversize head into his master's side. "Yeah, ya did good, boy," he says to the reptile, patting it on the back. The druid then starts checking with the other caravan members, trying to get an idea of how many people were injured, and if anything was stolen.
Jorn growls as his sling seems to fail him, while Tyr continues his toothy rampage. He takes another shot, but the second is only slightly less terrible than the first.
Current Status: Jorn:
| HP: 11/11 | AC: 14 T: 11 FF: 13 | CMD: 14 | F: +4 R: +1 W: +5 (+3 vs. poison, spells & spell-likes) | Init: +3 Per: +7 | 1st: 2/2 | Effects: None
Spells Prepared:
=== Tyr:
Effects: None
Jorn steps over to get a better shot at one of the bandits on the ledge, his sling still spinning through the air. However, the druid's lack of training with the weapon shows when he lets go, the bullet missing wildly. He curses under his breath while pulling another bullet from his belt pouch and reloading his weapon. In the meantime, oblivious to Liath's assistance, Tyr continues his attack. He bites at the bandit once more, his sharp teeth glinting like daggers.
Current Status: Jorn:
| HP: 11/11 | AC: 14 T: 11 FF: 13 | CMD: 14 | F: +4 R: +1 W: +5 (+3 vs. poison, spells & spell-likes) | Init: +3 Per: +7 | 1st: 2/2 | Effects: None
Spells Prepared:
=== Tyr:
Effects: None
Jorn drops his makeshift walking stick into the cart, before pulling his sling from where it hangs at his waist. He pulls a bullet from a pouch on his belt and loads it into the cup of the sling, before beginning to spin the weapon. "Defend th' caravan!" the dwarf calls, and with that, Tyr rusheses the nearest bandit while roaring as loud as his not-fully-developed lungs would allow.
Current Status: Jorn:
| HP: 11/11 | AC: 14 T: 11 FF: 13 | CMD: 14 | F: +4 R: +1 W: +5 (+3 vs. poison, spells & spell-likes) | Init: +3 Per: +7 | 1st: 2/2 | Effects: None Spells Prepared:
=== Tyr:
Effects: None
Yep, works for me now, too.
I logged in with my Google+ account, and it's still not showing it for me. Weird.
Jorn frowns heavily as Stalkid informs him of the additional bandits to their rear. "Tlachdmhor," the dwarf replies in the most sarcastic tone he can manage, as he tries to weigh his options. Druidic: Lovely.
Normally I'd say go for it, but there are 20 bandits. Even assuming we've got as many as a dozen armed helpers, they still have a bunch of advantages over us. As much as Jorn would be loathe to do so, I don't really think there's anything we can do that won't end up with a lot of dead caravan-folk. I think surrendering and waiting for a better chance to fight back is probably a much safer choice.
Movement on the top of the hill grabs Jorn's attention, not getting past his razor sharp attention. 'We're practically in spittin' distance. I ain't lettin' no giants ruin this caravan, that's for sure,' he thinks to himself, the hand gripping his quarterstaff clenching tight around the faded wood. "Jus' stay sharp, an' let's keep movin'. If ya got weapons, keep 'em at th' ready. We're close t' Bastion, but not that close," the druid calls, Tyr looking around curiously at his side. The tyrannosaurus pup growls softly as the mood of the caravan changes, but continues to pad along next to his master.
Jorn notices Tyr waving his tail more than usual, the appendage swishing around in response to being the subject of attention. It doesn't surprise Jorn when Barbara asks about the young reptile, and he turns to give her a once-over. "Meat, mostly. Seems t' chew on leaves every now an' then, but th' lion's share is small animals. He likes th' jerky I carry 'round, too, but it's more o' a snack than anythin' else," the druid informs the woman. He reaches into the satchel once more and pulls out another strip of the jerky, handing it to her. "Open palm. Let him come t' you. He's still small, but his bite ain't nothin' t' mess with."
Positioned near the front of the caravan, a red-headed dwarven man in simple clothing and armor crafted from wood and leather stands watch. He leans on an old, well-worn quarterstaff and at his hip hangs a heavy warhammer. Next to the rather strangely-dressed dwarf, a young dinosaur is padding along, its over-sized head looking rather comical compared to its tiny arms. The creature makes a low warbling noise in its throat, poking its face into the satchel hanging from the dwarf. "What's th' matter, Tyr? Ya hungry?" the dwarf asks the infant tyrannosaur, receiving a simple grunt as an answer. Jorn Oathforge, druid of the Father of Creation, reaches into his satchel and pulls out some jerky, dropping it into his animal companion's waiting mouth. He then turns back to keeping watch, his bright green eyes peering for any threats while running a hand through his neatly-braided beard. "We're a few days late, lads! Let's pick up th' pace!" he calls to the rest of the caravan, satisfied that things seem safe enough for the time being. At his side, Tyr growls contentedly.
Dot! Glad to be part of this. :)
Jorn will be able to do a pretty good job of pretending to be a Barbarian or Fighter when he's turning into dinosaurs (and later giants, swinging around a big damn warhammer!). :D
Good luck, everybody! :)
I'm excited to see the results, myself. :)
So this is probably going to be confusing, but I decided to use this alias for my character, instead of Quomaugh. Mechanically and story-wise, it's the exact same character. I'm just changing the name from "Quomaugh and Dorn" to "Jorn and Tyr." Quomaugh was, in his original concept, a dwarf raised by really dumb orcs, and that's where he got his name. In retrospect, I'd much rather a character with a sufficiently full-blooded dwarf name... which Jorn is at least closer to. ;) Sorry for any confusion this change might cause. I just figured it would be better to do it NOW, before you make decisions, rather than afterwards.
This game seems pretty unlikely to make a comeback at this point, I think. It's been, what? Nearly a month and a half since the last post?
"Devourer, huh? I ain't fancyin' meself as anybody's meal," Jorn grumbles, his weapon still resting on his shoulder. "Ya wanna do th' honors, Slam?" the celestial dwarf asks, gesturing at the steel door with his left hand.
Jorn clomps into the hallway, his weapon hanging over one shoulder. "Stay sharp, lads, an' we shouldn't have any problems," he trails off, eyes peeled for more threats.
"Ragathiel's wings!" the Paladin cries as he rushes away from the falling stars.
Jorn remains alert as he inspects the door, his gaze occasionally flitting to the lights above with worry. "Le's do 'at, then. Still don' like th' look o' them lights, but we mus' press on."
Jorn watches Talon's shadow pass through the wall without a word, but raises a curious eyebrow.
Jorn clutches his weapon regardless, eying the approaching lights coldly. "Jus' hope they ain't gonna try and touch us, first..." he mutters.
Jorn walks for what feels like forever, the blackness causing his mind to go dangerous places. However, even after what feels like an eternity, his faith brings him through without incident. When the massive ivory door looms ahead of the party, the dwarfborn aasimar's eyes are drawn to bright white lights above them. "...are those gettin' closer?" he asks the others, squinting at the lights.
"I'm 100% ready boss"
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