Kogril warily follows the golem over to the barn door. "A ghostly undead horse..." he mumbles to himself, eyeing the heavy pick in his hand, wondering if his preferred weapon is useless against an intangible creature. Standing just outside of the building, he wrinkles his nose when he gets a faint whiff of the rot inside.
Kn: Religion (untrained):1d20 ⇒ 2 Kn: Local:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15 I know Kn: Local isn't the appropriate roll for undead, but I'm hoping for a high roll that might lend a helpful rumor he heard? Up to you, GM.
Listening to the lizardman, the dwarf picks a small vial from his pack. He holds up the bubbly fluid to show Leah and Zaszisar. "Will acid harm the spirit? It won't spread like fire does..."
Kogril gets a glance at everything inside the tool shed when Leah shouts and runs for her brother. With a quick hand to the heavy pick at his side, he turns to sprint after her.
"C'mon, Mean Little!" he shouts over his shoulder to the golem.
He almost had it! Kogril grits his teeth and tries to replicate his precise movements, searching for the tumbler he missed.
Disable Device:1d20 + 10 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 10 + 5 = 29
He copied the previous attempt a little too closely. Frustrated, he tries less finesse and more force behind the pick and torsion wench. Maybe it just needs a little more umph... Disable Device:1d20 + 10 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 10 + 5 = 24
He feels a sudden give! But to his dismay, it is not the lock. The young jeweler retracts his bent tool and bends it back with an annoyed sigh.
Kogril takes a moment not touching the lock in order to get some quiet and clear his head. Wringing his hands to relax his fingers, he tries a different pick. He maintains focus on gentle, precise movements; the wrench and pick are his feelers inside the complex lock.
Disable Device:1d20 + 10 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 10 + 5 = 32
The golem's comment sparks some curiosity in the young dwarf. "How do you know?" he replies in a conversational tone. He nods to the flail. "Have you ever used it in a prison riot?"
The youngest Emberforge flinches at the first clanging of the alarm, but quickly regains his composure. He looks around to see if touching the door caused anything else to change in the colony.
"Nothing," Kogril answers Leah with a smirk. With deliberate motions to demonstrate, he levels his forefinger toward the stout door, and inches his hand forward until the fingertip touches the door. He winces at the ringing that follows, and takes away his finger to speak to the summoner. "It will just be a touch noisy until I get this unlocked..."
Kogril absently runs a hand over the stone work table beside him. When he reaches the woodcut door, he takes a moment to appreciate the image. The young dwarf is about to push it open when he hesitates, remembering the scuffle in the mess hall. He glances back to see where the plodding hulk of metal stands, and gives a gentle knock on the door. After a pause, and hearing nothing stir inside, he presses the door open to have a look.
His skill with precious metals did not translate over to woodcraft, so the carved figurines draw his attention. He turns many of them over in his hands, fascinated at their detail, returning each one to its place. He glances over the paints briefly, and makes note to remember to look for other signage around the colony. Discovering the mattock, he pulls out the tool and sits on the bed to inspect it for flaws. Once again he glances around the room, and grimaces, not liking the idea of fighting in an area with only one way out. Nowhere to run, if the fight goes bad.
"I think I'll hang onto this," he says at last to the moving set of armor. He stands up and moves toward the door, sparing one last look to the wooden figures. He slips the handle of the mattock through a loop on his pack as he exits the smithy.
He makes his way to the locked door below the sign of a pickaxe. Once more, Kogril raps his knuckles thrice on the wood and listens as he reaches for his folded pouches of lockpicking tools.
Perception:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11
If he hears nothing on the other side of the door, Kogril is going to try to spring the lock. Disable Device:1d20 + 10 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 10 + 5 = 22
The young dwarf visibly relaxes when Zaszisar uses a compassionate tone. He gives Delbina a reassuring nod. "Safe indeed! Zaszisar will take good care of you."
After Leah's parting remark, the dwarf realizes that he is just standing there, not being particularly helpful. He follows after the summoner. Stepping around the upturned stove and destroyed cabinets, he says to the survivor as he passes, "Understave, you said? I cannot say I have had the pleasure. But I should like to see his workshop!"
Pausing at the door, he glances back to the woman and the lizardman. "Holler if you need anything."
Crossing the open ground, Kogril scans the buildings for any sign of where Understave might have worked.
Perception:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20
Kogril remains silent as Zaszy leads the questions. Listening to Delbina's account, he shuffles over to the apple barrel she mentioned and glances inside, curious for any clues that might help with the explanation. Something tugs at his memory, a story of a distant uncle hiding in a barrel to escape a prison. But he pushes the thought away as he watches the lizardman administer salve and bandaging to the shaken woman.
Sense Motive:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
When Delbina begins to repeat herself, he glances at Leah and Zaszy, who seem eager for the survivor to answer for herself. Sympathizing for her state, he grumbles to the others from where he stands near the barrel. "Give her some space, for pity's sake. She's had a frightening time here."
If Delbina looks at him, the dwarf spares a polite smile, but otherwise does not stare at her, concerned that too much attention would tip her mind over the edge.
Since no one answers him directly and Kogril himself is no healer, he slides away from the exchange between the Oakfounders and Zaszisar. Cleaning girallon blood off his pick, he hangs the weapon back onto his belt and steps over to the weeping woman. He pulls out his waterskin along the way. His dwarvish stature means he only needs to stoop a little to be eye level with the cowering woman. He uses a gentle tone, hoping to calm her.
"It's all right. That big beast is dead and isn't going to hurt you. Here," he opens the waterskin and takes a swig, to show that it is safe to drink. He holds the water out to her at an arms length away. "Take some water. What is your name?" Diplomacy:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16
Does it look like she is dressed as a prisoner, or prison staff?
"Hah!" smiling Kogril says between breaths, gesturing to Tyran, "You turned that furball into a pincushion!"
The dwarf gives a half-hearted kick to a girallon foot. His grimace surveys the disaster of a mess hall. After an unsure look to the crying woman in the far corner, he turns to one that is closer. "Marc, is it? Looks like you took a beating. Are you alright?"
The beast's back offers a pretty big target... if Kogril can get in while it is distracted. Debris on the ground slows his approach as Kogril comes in low, still wary of the flailing arms, to strike with his pick.
flanking heavy pick:1d20 + 14 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 14 + 2 = 30damage:1d6 + 4 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 4 + 8 = 17 (if the girallon is immune to precision damage, subtract 8 from the damage roll)
Kogril tromps through the kitchen, close behind the lizardman. He wrinkles his nose at the smell of wet fur. Picking his way through the debris around the corner, he sees the source of all the commotion: Leah, her magical brother Marc, a small moving lump of dirt, and the horned tower of white fur and muscle!
Double move.
Heavy pick already in hand, he reminds himself to loosen his grip on the handle. He will have to be quick, not strong, if he wants to avoid the four arms swinging about. The dwarf has half a moment to size up the beast for soft spots. Well, it's got twice as many armpits...
Following Zaszy's lead, Kogril rears back and plants a stout kick to open the door, leaving enough room for Tyran and the golem to make the final push.
(Aiding) BREACH:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
Perception:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16Does Kogril notice any other way in that doesn't require as much brute force? Such as a window nearby?
The dwarf is halfway up a guard tower when he hears the call. He turns and tramps down the stairs, reaching the bottom and making for the west side of the colony as quickly as possible. Kogril vaguely worries that whatever made the claw marks and reduced the chickens to mush might be the cause for the survivor's scream.
The dwarf follows Zaszisar’s orders and trundles quietly after Tyran. He grimaces at the scattered chicken pulp over the grounds, and tries not to step in it as he glances over the buildings pointed out by the Inquisitor. He decides to start with the guard towers and northern gate before moving to the other buildings. As he approaches, Kogril checks the condition of the gate and pulls it slightly to check the lock. Afterwards he tries to find a way inside and up the guard towers, looking for anything unusual.
Perception:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26 If he can find a way up the guard towers, he will look out from the higher vantage point to see what is beyond the north end of the camp.
Perception:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24
“Zass-caesar… Zazsi-zar…” Kogril mumbles quietly to himself as he follows after the officer.
He stops rehearsing the name as he rejoins the golem, Leah, and her otherworldly twin. The dwarf is just able to hear Leah’s last question to the sentient suit of armor.
DM Rasq'uire'laskar wrote:
"Names Mean Little," the golem says...
“Mean Little. Hah! Good one!” he smiles up at the towering construct, clearly thinking it to be some joke about the golem's size.
Perception:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15
The dwarf nods at Tyran’s suggestion. “I had the very same thought!” he concurs. “Up and over seems like the best-”
Kogril trails off, only just now seeming to have noticed the enormous lock on the gate. He wordlessly trundles with an inquisitive look toward the iron lock, until his face is mere inches from the keyhole. Mumbling something in the fathertongue, he pulls a roll of canvas out from his bag and unrolls it, displaying a wide selection of thin metal tools and delicate instruments each in its own pocket.
“Belay that,” he says to the half-elf, before Tyran begins climbing. “Heh. Let me try something that doesn’t risk a fall.”
With a handful of lockpicking tools that look like they will do the trick, he lowers his goggles onto his face. Dark slits on slate grey circles replace his eyes, and he carefully approaches the large lock. The iron mechanism is greatly magnified and fills the dwarf’s vision.
Disable Device:1d20 + 10 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 10 + 5 + 2 = 20 “Just getting warmed up...”
Kogril raises his eyebrows at the imposing shiny golem, but immediately breaks into a grin when the hulking figure takes a spill into the water.
This next bit assumes Names Mean Little obeys Tyran's order. Disregard if that isn't the case:
Nodding at Tyran's control over the momentarily uneasy situation, Kogril starts to follow him over the plank. But then he pauses and turns to the lizardman. He wears a sheepish look. "Can I hear your name one more time? I am not a gifted linguist, but I don't want to show you disrespect by pronouncing it wrong."
Kogril scans what he can see of the colony from the dock, noting the tattered flag at the tower. Maybe we should start there...
His thoughts are interrupted when he sees Leah, a distance from the group and in the middle of some kind of rite. Is that... Elvish? The dwarf listens and watches from afar with great curiosity. But when the being appears with crystalline fissures, he can feel his skin crawl. Kogril shudders.
Then it shrieks and the jeweler flinches, startled. He quickly tries to mask it by casually shifting his weight, and forcing a smile to Tyran and the lizardman. "Maybe that's just it's way of saying 'hello'..." he offers optimistically.
He thought he heard Leah refer to the creature as her twin brother, Marc. After a moment of hesitation, he raises his hand to the pair, the apparent siblings, and waves. The dwarf wonders if the summoned person-thing will wave back. He is not entirely sure he wants it to.
Kogril is amazed by the wild tales of white apes and escapees, and prods the storytellers for their theories on what went wrong in the prison colony. Overall, he is more interested in having a good time than grilling the sailors, deciding he will just figure it out when he lands, so he keeps his questions light and easygoing.
Diplomacy (gather info):1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20
After the next couple days, the bruises left by the storm sprites are just a memory, and Kogril enjoys the remainder of the voyage thoroughly.
At the captain's remarks on stories, Emberforge cracks a wry smile. "Oh, I'm sure word will get around, that's the nature of stories. You'll hear of what happened here, one way or another. It would be truly lucky if the Magrat was the ship that picks us up when we are finished!"
As they sail in closer, the dwarf nods, impressed by the careful steering up to the pier. With his belongings in his pack, Kogril waits on the top deck for permission to disembark. He shrugs at the captain's askance. "No requests come to mind, thank you captain." His eye turns again to the island, unsure what to make of the calm landscape and the investigation ahead.
When it is time to step off the ship, the dwarf turns while standing on the pier and raises a hand to the crew. "Fair winds, lads!"
Kogril idly straightens the many braids in his brown beard as he watches the large air elemental dissipate. He stiffens when he sees the two glowing orbs approach Leah, who is injured but thankfully still alive, but easily relaxes when she appears to have control over them.
“Of course, go ahead,” he answers the summoner, feeling useless to help with the injuries of everyone aboard. The observant notice him quietly regard the lizardman after he casts a spell that closes some of Leah’s wounds. The dwarf rolls his shoulders to shake off the ache of bruises he feels forming under his cloak and chainmail, but does not trouble the inquisitor for healing. I’ll see how I feel in the morning…
He remembers a few scrapes with living earth deep in the mines, and is also curious if air elemental attacks are common in this part of the world. He listens for Molron’s answer to the lizardman’s question as he draws nearer to the group.
Kogril Emberforge slides the pick into the loop on his belt and helps the crew tidy up anything that might have been torn loose by the fierce wind sprites. He remains topdeck to lend a hand until he senses that he is getting in the way, and then returns to his room, careful to knock and wait for an “all-clear” from Leah before entering.
I really don't want Kogril to get sucked up so I'm expending one of his Charmed Life uses to add +3 to the saving throw. 3 uses remaining for the day. Reflex:1d20 + 10 + 1 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 10 + 1 + 3 = 19
The dwarf's eyes widen when he sees the fellow traveler get picked up off the deck and carried away as the massive air elemental retreats. Keeping low as it passes over him, he rises and squints through the high winds and spray of sea foam. Leah spins haphazardly inside the whirlwind, likely to get tossed at any moment further into the storm or straight into the briny depths. Tyran warns of the elemental's return, and Kogril nods at the order.
He roars over the storm to the captain. "Molron! Someone ready a line in case she takes a dive!"
The dwarf's short legs carry him with unnatural speed up the stairs nearer to the prow. The heavy pick whirls in one hand as he maintains momentum to smack the spirit of air if it dares make another pass over the ship.
readied Kindness:1d20 + 14 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 14 + 1 = 31dmg:1d6 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7 Move from H11 to G6.
Kogril follows after the lizardman to repel the bigger air elemental. He feels his steps quicken, and the mining tool feels lighter in his hands! He cannot explain how he is moving so quickly, but he sees the shimmering orbs summoned by Leah and is certain some magic is afoot.
Once the tower of wind is within reach, he wastes no time whipping the pick forward, slashing again and again! Kindness:1d20 + 14 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 14 + 1 = 34dmg:1d6 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 Kindness:1d20 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 9 + 1 = 26dmg:1d6 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9 Kindness:1d20 + 14 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 14 + 1 = 24dmg:1d6 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Kogril visibly starts when he sees the air elementals slow down to a mid-air crawl, but he has the presence of mind to strike out at the one that streaks past.
Kindness (AoO):1d20 + 14 ⇒ (15) + 14 = 29dmg:1d6 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
One of the slowed elementals reaches him by then, and with a quick shift of his footing, he makes a fast overhand swing once, and again.
Kindness:1d20 + 14 ⇒ (8) + 14 = 22dmg:1d6 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5 Kindness:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13dmg:1d6 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
At the call to arms, Kogril snatches up his pack with one hand and his trusty pick with the other. He juggles the weapon as he fits his arms through the straps while he vaults up the stairs after the crewman.
His shirt of chainmail absorbs much of the blow to his gut, and he reflexively whips the head of the pick after his assailant.
Kindness (AoO):1d20 + 14 ⇒ (18) + 14 = 32dmg:1d6 + 4 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 4 + 8 = 15 Damn these sprites are fast! His eyes widen when he sees the cabin get nearly bowled over the deck railing.
“Stay low, boy! Hold fast!” he bellows over the wind and rain. He sees two more windsprites pass through in the flurry, but he isn’t sure if he can hit them both before they can break away from the ship. Nothing ventured...! The dwarf arcs a low backhand sweep to hit one, and then pivoting off one foot carries the momentum up high for an overhead strike.
Kindness (AoO):1d20 + 14 ⇒ (2) + 14 = 16dmg:1d6 + 4 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 8 = 16 Kindness (AoO):1d20 + 14 ⇒ (6) + 14 = 20dmg:1d6 + 4 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 8 = 16 If the windsprites are immune to critical and precision damage, each attack deals 8 less damage.
Leah’s hand glows with a spell at the ready and Tyran’s quick movements unleash a volley of bolts. Kogril hears the lizardman through the roar of the storm. ’Windsprites,’ ‘Air Elementals,’ whatever they are, the dwarf knows they are trouble. For the moment, he is indecisive on using his bow or keeping his pick in hand, but there is little time to deliberate. With a crouch he holds his weapon back behind him, ready to swing it forward if these air elementals return for another pass.
Readied attack on the first air elemental to enter his threatened area: Kindness:1d20 + 14 ⇒ (8) + 14 = 22dmg:1d6 + 4 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 8 = 16
Kogril cannot help a smile. “Ha! No, not at all. Some might call me a trouble-starter, but I don’t see myself that way…” His eyes glance to the door left open, and wonders where the lizardman might be. Hopefully not eavesdropping... He clears his throat and his tone is slightly more serious. “Just don’t pass that along to uh, the um, the inquisitor will ya?”
I need to hear his name again before trying it. Sounded like a mouthful coming out of Palamer!
“I’m not an investigator,” he begins again, “but I do know mines, and mining. My whole family does. Even though we didn’t have a need to, my father required all his sons to spend some years down in the Mindspin shafts. To get a deeper understanding of where our business starts, heh. Father knows the ruling house of Cheliax, which is why I’m here -I never would have heard or cared about this island otherwise.”
“But it sounds like you came here on your own initiative! You use those crystals for something that you do... was it alchemy? Or summoning?” He asks with a special emphasis on the last word, being one with only a peripheral and anecdotal understanding of magic.
“You got it, Molron,” he calls after the departing captain, “But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that!”
He leans back and lays flat onto his bunk to give Leah plenty of room for her ascent. His boots rest on the bedding and he relaxes with his hands behind his head.
Kogril shrugs at the question that comes down from the boards above. “Not well enough to sail on my own, but I’ve spent a fair amount of time on them. When I was younger my father went on many trade voyages along the western and southern coasts, but not so much now that he is older…”
“Learned some sea legs real quick, but I’ve always had good feet. The trick is in the joints. Keep ‘em loose, and in no time you’ll be able to spin a tango on a pitch!” he chuckles at the silly claim.
Kn: geo (untrained):1d20 ⇒ 20 “You said you hail from ...Gilren? Can’t say I’ve heard of it. Have you done much sailin' between there and here?”
Satisfied at horilka put to good use, the dwarf accepts the bottle, corking it before storing the rest into his pack.
He follows the captain, and at the sound of cargo splashing into the water, Kogril throws back his head and lets out a single guffaw. He makes no other comment until he sees the rooms, but his stride is much more relaxed now that he was away from Palamer and his men.
"Aye," he nods to Leah.
"Fine rooms! Thank you for the accommodations, Captain Molron." Kogril is quick to find a bottom bunk, worried that a night storm might pitch him from a top bunk onto the floor as he slept. He unshoulders his haversack and tosses it next to the bed and carefully sits on the bedding to test his weight on it.
He looks up to the seadog before he leaves, "Aside from the obvious, things an honest dwarf would never do, anythin' I should keep from doin' while aboard? Special rules ya got?"
As he turns aft to find the quarters, he grimaces at the sight of all those oranges in crates. But he pushes it from his mind and considers the captain's warning of rough seas. His steps hesitate and he turns back to Captain Molron. "How long have you sailed these parts?"
Knowledge (local):1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9Is there a superstitious ritual Kogril could do to pronounce good luck for the crew and voyage? Such as break his bottle of booze on the prow, throw salt over a shoulder, or stomp on a glass? "Break a leg"? Not looking for actual bonuses to sailing, just something to get on the captain and crew's good side.
Kogril stays long enough to hear the pier number from the halfling before stuffing the food satchel into his haversack. “Three hours, pier seven, Captain Molron. Thank you, Master Palamer. Your provisions and passage are more than enough. I will see this matter to its end. You need not worry, we Emberforge are nothing if not thorough and resourceful!” Diplomacy:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
Seeing himself out, the dwarf takes a moment to collect his bearings in this new city before taking the quickest path he can to Simple Solutions. He hears good things about that shop, and has a mind to pick up a poultice or two to help with wounds, along with anything else that catches his eye.
GM only:
Planning to buy 3 CLW (1d8 + 1) potions (150gp), 2 potions of Air Bubble (100gp), 1 potion of Hairline Fractures (can this one even be a potion? 50gp), 1 potion of Ironbeard (50gp), and 2 vials of holy water (50gp). Spending 400gp total. Let me know which of these he can find and I’ll adjust his gold and inventory. Perception:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12, does Simple Solutions sell poisons? Are poisons legal in Cheliax?
After he is finished storing his potions into a side pocket of his pack, Kogril makes his way for Pier Seven. He remains mindful of the time, and he tries to be a half hour early if possible.
But if he has time to stop in anywhere along the way and buy 10gp worth of booze. The fancier, the better :)
“Might be,” grumbles Kogril as he shifts his weight uncomfortably when his father is mentioned. He says nothing else on that issue.
He nods appreciatively looking down into his mealbag.
Perception 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24 hah, darn
The youngest Emberforge brought his own foodstuffs for this mission, but he is pleased for the provisions nonetheless. He might need something stronger than weak mead, but that can be remedied quickly. A few potions might be come in handy, too. Knowledge (local):1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22, does Kogril know of any potion shops on the way to the docks?
Kogril remains quiet and leans in when Palamer begins to explain the map.
With scrutinous brown eyes he turns over the crystal a few times, trying to sort out why the red veins do not appear when he holds it. Shrugging, he holds it out to Tyran, Leah, and the lizard-man for any of them to inspect. If no one takes it, he returns it to Palamer.
“Sounds like the prison captain would know about this recent revolt in town,” Kogril states, more for thinking aloud than for any other reason. “A map of the mine would be a boon, to save others the trouble of getting lost.”
He raises an eyebrow to Leah’s list of questions, thinking she is too bold to ask so much of Palamer. The officer's handling of recent events reinforces the strict notion of Cheliaxian rule, and a concern, unlikely as it may be, surfaces to the dwarf’s mind. I am a stranger to these laws. Better to know now than be held over a barrel later. Kogril adds one more question to the halfling when the summoner is finished speaking. “Aside from payment forfeiture, what happens if we return with no answers and no ledger? Will there be cells or a headsman waiting for us?”
Kogril nods curtly when Palamer recognizes him. The dwarf raises an eyebrow at the strange crystal in the officer's tiny hand, his gaze fixed on its colors and angles. He says nothing as the halfling and the others speak, until there is a pause for him to interject.
"May I see that crystal?" the dwarf holds up an open hand decorated in silver and gemstones.
If Palamer hands the sinmarrow crystal over, Kogril will inspect it. Appraise:1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 3 + 2 = 18, how much would he guess this crystal to be worth? (don't count the +2 if this does not count as a precious gemstone). Knowledge (dungeoneering):1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8, would he be able to tell any natural features about the mines/caves based on the type of crystal formation? A wet climate, dry climate? Or rock composition, such as clay or igneous?
Setting the food onto the table for a moment, he neatly folds the daughter's note and tucks it safely into an inner breast pocket on his cloak. He pats it reassuringly. "Of course, Temara."
The sound of the closing door prompts the dwarf to hurry.
"Enjoy these taters," he adds awkwardly, gesturing the hot dish to Temara Ashferth. He nods a bow. "I must be going."
With that, the dwarf trundles after the others out on the street.
The dwarf listens as he chows down on the bread trencher that held his eggs, fish, and cheese. It wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye out for Ashferth, since Kogril intends to visit Deepmar anyway. He hesitates on his last bite when Tamara says something about the alchemist woman at the table being a summoner. His brown eyes study Leah for a second, not really knowing how the girl picked up on that, but he keeps his ignorance to himself as he gulps down his final bit of bread. He is about to offer his aid in seeking the girl’s father when the door opens and in file soldiers led by a lieutenant.
The seventh son is on his feet the instant he hears the summons, hastily brushing down his beard and chest in case of crumbs from the delicious breakfast. He expected a welcoming party for his service to Cheliax, but these men seem more like an escort to control rather than protect.
“Right,” he replies in a tone that is quite business-like. Reaching under the table, he hauls onto his shoulder a leather backpack stained by seasalt. A short blade scabbard across the small of his back clatters as he pulls the pack squarely onto his back. Lastly, he slides the ornate handle of a heavy pick down a belt loop at his side. He pushes in his seat. When the Inquisitor mentions settling his tab, Kogril turns to Tamara for a moment and speaks to her in a lower tone.
“Show me that likeness of him one more time. Would hate to bring back the wrong papa on accident,” he says with a wink.
He fishes out a two gold coins from a pocket and gives one to the innkeeper for breakfast, and the other to the boy for his attentive service. Kogril then looks to the lieutenant. “Lead the way.”
The sound of pots of silver grabs the dwarf's attention, but he is unsure if the House would exempt his aid from reward, due to the favor owed by his family.
Knowledge (local) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
"Likely the alchemical products of the mine are more important to House Thrune," Kogril states gruffly. His eyes narrow to Miss Ashferth's stack of letters. "Everyone gone? That doesn't make any sense. Did you father mention anything strange in his last letter?"
Kogril raises a palm to the boy to decline the orange juice, mumbling something about it upsetting his stomach. He then nods appreciatively when the lad updates him on the taters. Finishing his eggs, the dwarf tears into his last fish. At the lizard man's pause, followed by such a terse answer, Kogril holds a sideways look for just a few moments.
Sense Motive 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24
He shrugs to himself, idly wondering if Common is not the lizard-man's native tongue.
"Well met, Tyran," he says warmly, inclining his head to the half-elf. "I am Kogril, son of Vogrir, of the Emberforge clan. You may have heard of our name in the silver business if you follow the precious metal markets. From the mines in Mindspin to the workshops in Janderhoff, we might be the best silversmiths in Varisia, perhaps the whole west coast!" His shoulders seem a bit more squared than before, and he sits a bit taller, though he does not seem aware of his change in posture.
"Of course, I could be little biased," he flashes a cheeky grin before taking a bite of fish.
"Thank you, m'boy," he rumbles, pushing a pair of coppers into the boy's palm as Kogril takes the plate and sets it onto the table. Taking a few pieces for himself, he nudges the cheese plate closer to everyone else.
"Afraid I haven't heard of it," he shrugs to Tyran. His gaze shifts to the scaly tablemate. "But Westcrown! A bustling port if I've ever seen one! I remember as a lad aboard one of my father's ships, we stopped by to drop off a score of spice crates. Never got a chance to explore the city, though, we were in a rush. Is that where your family is from?"
He pauses to finish one of his fish, giving attention to any answer the reserved lizardfolk might give.
The dwarf wordlessly piles a mound of eggs and three large fish onto his trencher. Refilling his cup with cool water, he squints at his meal, and then the table, to sort out what he lacks. He turns to the boy. “Can I trouble you for some taters? Maybe a hunk of cheese for the table, too?”
He holds back the urge to request beer; Kogril Emberforge is here on business, and preferred to first measure the tone of the handler from Cheliax before making a total fool of himself. Though it might already be too late for that, he muses, recalling to mind just how much ale he drank last night. He was vaguely aware of the young woman, but he did not really speak with her after the curfew tolling. Likewise, the lizard fellow from the night before seemed to know what was going on, but now the young silversmith is foggy on the details of any exchange that might have happened.
Agreeing with the others, Kogril nods between bites, careful to keep bits of egg and fish out of his braided brown beard. After a gulp, he chuckles at the half-elf's comment and adds with an amiable tone. “I take it I am not the only stranger to this grand city, Kintargo. I hail from Janderhoff, in Varisia. And yourselves?”
Forgot that I meant to roll for arts and crafts. Hopefully turns out better than a macaroni face glued to a paper plate.
Arts & Crafts crunch:
GM, I paid the base cost of uncut gemstones and one-third of the cost of raw silver used for these items. I used this page as a reference for gemstone and crafting costs.
Item 1: masterwork Jet and Moonstone silver ring; 820sp Craft (jewelry) DC 15 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 6 + 2 = 18 jet cut and polished; new value 50 + 2d4 ⇒ (2, 4) = 6x10 = 110 Craft (jewelry) DC 12 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 6 + 2 = 19 moonstone cut and polished; new value 25 + 2d4 ⇒ (3, 3) = 6x5 = 55 Craft (jewelry) DC 15 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 6 + 2 = 25 25 x 15 = 375 Craft (jewelry) DC 15 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 6 + 2 = 28 28 x 15 + 375 =
795 Craft (jewelry) DC 15 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 6 + 2 = 17 17 x 15 + 795 =
1050 Item 1 completed in 3 weeks, and is worth 110 + 55 + 10 + 50 =
225gp
Item 2: masterwork Amber (2) and Deep Blue Spinel silver ring; 1080sp Craft (jewelry) DC 15 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 6 + 2 = 28 first amber cut and polished; new value 50 + 2d4 ⇒ (4, 1) = 5x10 = 100 Craft (jewelry) DC 15 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 6 + 2 = 23 second amber cut and polished; new value 50 + 2d4 ⇒ (1, 4) = 5x10 = 100 Craft (jewelry) DC 15 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 6 + 2 = 17 deep blue spinel cut and polished; new value 50 + 2d4 ⇒ (3, 4) = 7x10 = 120 Craft (jewelry) DC 15 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 6 + 2 = 25 25 x 15 = 375 Craft (jewelry) DC 15 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 6 + 2 = 25 25 x 15 + 375 =
750 Craft (jewelry) DC 15 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 6 + 2 = 11 Yikes! No progress Craft (jewelry) DC 15 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 6 + 2 = 23 23 x 15 + 750 =
1095 Item 2 completed in 4 weeks and is worth 100 + 100 + 120 + 10 +
50 = 380gp
Item 3: cut and polish topaz Craft (jewelry) DC 20 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 6 + 2 = 24 topaz cut and polished; new value 250 + 2d4 ⇒ (2, 3) = 5x50 = 500 Item 3 completed in 1 day and is worth 500gp Sleight of Hand 1 1d20 + 8 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 8 + 4 + 2 = 25 Sleight of Hand 2 1d20 + 8 + 2 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 8 + 2 + 2 + 2 = 22
He looks down at his ale. The voyage that brought him from Varisia to Cheliax gave him plenty of time to think. With unanswered questions, and now, in this city with its strange curfew, he doubted he would get any sleep. He only knew three cures for a sleepless night, however, he does not think there is a mine nearby for him to toil his worries away, and he is too uncomfortable to inquire after the second. That leaves the third option, then.
After a long pull, Kogril drains his tankard and uses his sleeve to wipe away the foam from his moustache. He trundles up to the barman and says, "Another, please. Hell, make it two!" The empty cup rests on the bar, and with it, double the coin of his first ale plus one more.
"I sure hope you have beds to rent," he states, with a nervous glance to the door leading outside. He dare not go out, and any bed sounds a sight better than passing out on the tavern floor.
