I'm excited to see how this plays out. There's an interesting spread to choose from.
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Karst drinks deeply, filling his mouth with brew instead of harsh words, leveling a steady gaze at the old man.
Karst leans forward and speaks to Lia in low tones across the table. "What's his problem?"
I defer to the GM. I don't want to lose momentum, but I don't want to lose Sesi. Is there more "busywork" type stuff we can do while waiting for Sesi's return before pursuing the main story line?
Karst peers at the man over a drink of beer. "What's this then?"
Karst scratches his whiskers contemplatively. "With pork? Stout. Or maybe a nice lager (if they have one here with a kick to it)."
Karst wipes a few errant drops of boar blood from his face.
Karst sets his spear to receive the charge, delaying his action until the Boar attacks.
Karst dismounts and readies his spear
Karst, ill-suited for stealth, hangs back.
What does that bring our total to? (edit: Never mind. I see it.)
Karst rides in the back, taking it all in and learning about his new friends: Sesi's flare for the dramatic, Lia's refined sensibilities, and Pendrix... young Pendrix who tries so hard. "That boy needs a bit of help," the dwarf muses "but we'll get him sorted."
"Puns are the lowest form of comedy." Karst pronounces grimly. "And thus, my favorite!" He smiles. "Lets All-i-gator outta here and get to this hunt, deer harts!"
Karst clears his throat, drawing foxglove's attention. "We've got a bit of a full day ahead of us, Mr. Foxglove. Why not let us finish breaking our fast and give us a moment to, er, take stock of the day."
Karst cuts a chunk of sausage and another of cheese, saying nothing. He pushes them into his mouth and chews contemplatively. Out of the corner of his eye, he regards Lia, waiting to see how she wants to play the situation. Is this rascal after something more, or is he just clueless?
The dwarf seems lost in thought. He starts slightly when he realizes that he had been asked a question. "Just some hard cheese and cold sausage. Maybe a hunk of bread and something to wash it down with. Thank you." The then walks over to your table, places his hammer head on the floor between his feet and rests his chin on the pommel, pensive once more.
"Well, that's a small mercy. Whoever put them here isn't powerful enough to raise the dead by their own power." Karst chuckles, turning to walk the path up to the cathedral. "Let's just hope he doesn't have any more robes!"
"Hum." Karst mutters, stroking his beard. "Any patches left on it?"
"Father Zantus, is there anything else to be seen down here?"
Karst sets his hammer head down on the ground, and lays his hands across the pommel. "There's powerful magic in the old priest's bones, I'd wager, but is it the kind the goblins can use?" He strokes his beard with a gauntleted hand. "Did the gobbos do this, or was their attack a distraction?" He kneels to peer down at the coffin lid "Are these goblin tool marks, or are they from something larger and craftier?"
"I can't tell. Sesi?" He offers her a larger slab of wood to examine.
Karst mutters a short blessing requesting peace for unquiet spirits before crushing a skull under his boot as he follows. "Not to worry, lass. There's worse things under the earth than the dead."
Growing frustrated, Karst grits his teeth, chokes up on his hammer haft, and strikes.
Karst brings his hammer sideways to smash through the skeleton's ribcage.
"ForgeFather's Beard!" Karst yells with alarm. He plants himself in the doorway, shield held high, ready to clobber anything that tries to emerge into the light.
Karst takes up a position opposite the Sheriff, hammer and shield readied.
Karst rests the head of his hammer on the ground, cracks his knuckles, and takes his weapon up again. "Right. Let's have a look." He proceeds forward.
Karst waits patiently for his companions to assemble.
He chuckles. "Trust me. I've been in my share of spinning rooms."
Karst blinks awake, the sun beaming into his room between the slats of closed shutters. He grunts and arches his back, cracking his vertebrae in a tumble that sounds like a wagon wheel running over a bag of walnuts. He throws the wool blanket back and stands, clad only in his small clothes, and gives his rump a leisurely scratch. He smiles. Some night last night... This was not, however, Karst's first rodeo, and his hardy dwarven metabolism was more than a match for a gallon or two of the respectable but hardly impressive stout the Rusty Dragon offered. He walks over to the chair and table where his equipment is arrayed and opens his pack to pull out a fresh set of clothes, not wanting to smell like two weeks of hard road. He fills the basin and washes his face and more aromatic crevices before pulling his clothes on. He considers his armor for a moment, and then decides that ceremony and the potential goblin threat calls for it, donning and securing the scales across his broad chest and shoulders. After stowing his extra gear in the footlocker near the bed, he runs his fingers through his beard to tug out any tangles, grabs his helmet and hammer, and heads down to the common room. He smiles as he sees his new friends already seated and in various states of disarray. He catches a barmaid's attention on his way to the table. "Can I get a big mug of tomato juice, love..." he continues, inclining his head toward the prostrate Sesi "and a bowl of broth and a soft loaf for my friend over there. Bring the rest of us some fruit and cheese but..." he emphasizes his point with a raised finger and warm smile "...no eggs. In fact, no fried anything. Much obliged." He walks over to the table, nodding a greeting to Pendrix and Lia, places his helm and weapon on the board, and straddles the bench next to Sesi, placing a callused hand gently on her head. "Sit up a minute, darlin'."
A brief description of the night's merry making and a cut to the consecration ceremony would suit me just fine.
"Whatever help you need, just ask." Karst says through whiskers full of foam. "I came here for the consecration. I'm very interested in having a look around."
"Least we could do."
Karst arrived the morning of the Festival.
"Something as dark and strong as an eight foot Garundi, and keep them coming: The Thirst is upon me!
"Indeed! All are welcome, and it's time to slake our well-earned thirst!"
Karst strides up to the cleric, looking around the scene as he does so. "Father Zantus? I'm Karst Ironbrow, acolyte of Torag, lately of Janderhoff. I came to see your new cathedral, but we all got more than we bargained for today." He casts an eye about at the fallout from the attack. "Is there anything we can do to help?"
I continue to support this endeavor.
We're going to the cathedral.
"Good. I need to have a talk with Father Zantus anyway."
When Lia looks away from Foxglove, she turns to find Karst regarding her, a decidedly amused smile on his face. He shakes his head and chuckles as he walks by, setting his hammer on his shoulder. What say you, friends? Drinks? He raises a gaunleted fist triumphantly. Drinks!
Karst nudges a goblin corpse with his boot. "They turned out dead enough. You just took a bit to get your rythm." He grins wolfishly. "Just be glad they were only goblins..."
Karst walks over, wiping gore off his hammer with a rag that was once a goblin tunic. "IronBrow does well enough. Karst IronBrow." He nods towards Lia "A soporific makes you sleep. These gits were dazzled, or stunned. Try one of those on for size." He winks at Lia with brotherly playfulness and widens his hands expansively to illustrate his point as he talks. Lia of the dazzling colors! There's a name fit for a storybook or a bard's song on a cold night. He chuckles as he walks over to the wounded man, investigating his wounds. Here, you've come over well enough, you lucky devil. Tch... Shirts a mess. Let me get that."
Karst waves his hands over the shredded sleeves, and they knit back together seamlessly before your eyes. There you go. Good as new.
As everyone moves around helping each other, Karst moves from goblin to goblin, making sure that they are good and dead. Once he has done so (and after Sesi has bound all the wounds she can) he presses two fingers to the birthmark on his forehead, says a brief prayer in Dwarvish requesting Torag's intercession, and channels energy to heal the wounded.
Karst growls and strides over to the goblin. Squirmy little... He brings his hammer down.
You and me both, sister. |