"I'll be takin' th' darkest o' the watch, if'n ye don't mind. Goin' t' remind me o' home a bit." Morgrym settles in to snooze until the middle watch.
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"Aye, that be a mountin o' a tale, Coiger, and I agree that he be a likely one t' emulate wi' this particular tactic." Morgrym sips at the mug that Matthew has provided, and ponders for a moment. "Though yeself had t' go diggin' fer that bit o' learnin'. Who else'd have th' time t' dig it up and learn t' copy him?
Morgrym spends the rest of the watch silently, puffing on his pipe.
Hi, team. My parents are in town, so minimal posting this weekend. Sorry!
No worries, GM. :)
Morgrym chortles as well. "Damn mess that'd be. Can ye imagine it happenin' inna dwarven mine?" He continues chuckling to himself.
Morgrym fills a pipe with tobacco, and strikes flint and steel until it takes. "So, elf," he whispers, "Ye be'n th' only one o' longer livin' than meself. What stories ye hear o' the far flung world? Had me head in th' mines fer as long as I can r'member."
"Aye, keep yer young'n safe 'n catch 'im what's been doin' this. Ye'll not find better eyes 'n ours fer a job like this, Sheriff. We'll be here." Morgrym turns to Chellian. "Ye wantin t' join me 'n the elf t'night fer this, lass? Yer human eyes'll not have a chance 'less the moon be high 'n bright, so ye'll need a good hooded lantern what we can throw open in a moment t' catch th' culprit." Morgrym will make sure he is armored and that his sap is in good order for setting watch that evening.
Morgrym grunts and rubs his hands together. "Nah, not yet - that be me mother's father. Knowledge is suppos' t' go t' the son, but he don't have one. So it's either t' go t' her an' break all sense o' tradition, or it's t' die wi' him."
Morgrym nods, "Aye, elf, ye got that right." He stumps over and stand by the tree, then looks up to its boughs. "Tell me, elf - I be so used t' stone 'n tunnels. How old ye reckon this tree be? Think it saw th' fire itself? Or is it jus' a few o' yer kin what talk t' trees 'n not you yerself?"
Morgrym tips his hat at the townspeople, and steps forward to the deputies. "Mornin', friend. Wonder if'n we might 'ave a bit o' chat w' th' sheriff this mornin'. We be wantin' t' help, as we offered th' other day, and make sure ye know we mean no ill to you 'r yer town."
The sheriff ... perks right back up when he goes on to suggest visiting Harrowstone. Now, dammit, I know y'all are outsiders, but why ya gotta go pokin' the dragon at every turn? Ya can't go up there. Hellfire, y'all are determined to get locked up today. Go...have a drink or something. At that he turns away grumbling and ambles over to his deputies and starts cursing and shouting his frustrations at them. "Bah, if'n the Sheriff be there, he'll jus' tell us again t' stay away from th' damn place. But if'n he's no', then we'll talk to any o' 'is boys about jus' tha', then."
Sure. I'm thinking that (with the right experiences) a rank or two as a warpriest of Pharasma wouldn't go amiss.
"Ye're a wise'un fer thinkin' so, lass," Morgrym comments to Chellian. He thinks better of calling "Boo!" in the faces of the women, and instead simply spits to the side of the road and continues stumping along. "Maybe best me, Sohar, 'n Chellian head over to th' monument whilst Coiger 'n Kitch head t' the temple. If'n we show up first thing 'n they'll no' think it was us what did this - no criminal gonna show up that quickly to the crime scene!"
Once outside, you find a chagrined looking Morgrym standing at the road, smoking his pipe and looking up when the door opens. He coughs, turns to Coiger, "Too shamed t' come back last night, after me cowardly exit. I'm sorry fer running off on ye when that thing dropped on yer back. Never much cared fer spiders. They gimme the willies, t' be honst. Though on reflectin' I also dinna' want t' miss it wit' me pick an' givin' ye a new hole in yer shirt. Or yer lung, kidney, stomach, what have ye." He falls into step with the group once they are off, leaving a trail of pipesmoke in his wake, and helps to hold the door open for everyone when they reach the temple of Pharasma.
Thanks, Fateweaver. I know exactly what you mean re: internet! Our builds are different enough that we should be ok to both be in the same party, and maybe eventually we can fill some gaps in the social skills department (that -2 to diplomacy is like a weight around the neck). I'll hop back in here in a moment. Good to be back!
Dear friends and fellow gamers, I'm sorry. I let you all down by disappearing for the last two months. I'm sure that an explanation isn't much help, but to sum up, it's been the busiest two months of my life, both personally and professionally. My wife and I moved into a new house, and started making preparations there for welcoming our first child. At work, my job description has changed, and while it's taken a couple responsibilities off, it's added one very large one that has added on regular weeknight meetings that are a drain on the schedule. It's a big step for me career-wise, not something I could have turned down easily. For my mental health, something had to go, and unfortunately it was gaming. This includes both PBP and the home game I was playing in. Today's the first day that I have even checked into the website, and it's a result of finally a) feeling a bit more settled, and b) being on vacation this week. I know that I should have stopped in to at least say, "I have to take a break," and I'm most sorry that I didn't take the time to do that. You all deserve better from me, and I didn't live up to it. Fateweaver, extra apologies to you. It's been rough being away, and I'm sorry to have left you hanging. Let me know if you'd like me to stay away, or come back in some capacity. My posts just might be a bit shorter, or happen once per two days, at the fastest. If not, I totally understand, and wish y'all good gaming!
"Fer the love o' all that be holy, elf, what in blazes be ye doin'?!" Morgrym waves his hand to lead the others forward. "That be a neat trick, but draws a lot o' attention. But come one, let's get further in. There be two iron gates there ahead, an' I say one o' us watches the road from 'ere to make sure no-one gets th' drop on us. Last thing Miss Kendra needs right now be some grave-robbin' guests. Another standin' at th' open gate, makin' sure it do no' close, an' another t' head deeper in t' see what be there. I'll volunteer fer the last, if'n ye like."
Morgrym steps forward into the darkness, pulling his pick off his back and prepping it in his hand.
Also been off the grid - sorry folks. I'm on vacation with my in-laws, but think I can post something here.
"Well, that were as subtle as an ogre. Come on, let's get in n' out b'fore someone comes a lookin'."
The Restlands graveyard is completely empty. A worn, wooden wheelbarrow full of tools stands near the southwest entry gate (where you entered for the procession before) with some fresh dirt clinging to its wheels, but it appears that the owner has left. Now that you're paying more attention to the surroundings, the place seems all the more dreary and grey.
"Keen eye, there, Coiger. A deft work this was, indeed. We comin' back tonight fer a closer look, or do ye jus' want t' go in now while noone be around?"
For now, Morgrym follows Coiger to the graveyard to walk through, as though paying respects to the Professor, but really to look for the crypt during the day.
"I do no' mind gettin' a bit o' sleep here'n the afternoon. Me eyes be better at th' nighttime capers, if ye get me meanin', than lookin' at the books. Less, o' course, ye want me t' come with ye, lass," he directs this last at Chellian.
"I like yer plan. Been a while since I had t' break inna summin', and night be the best o' times t' do it."
"Good ideer. Ye think thems at th' Temple 'll mind us pokin' around up there?"
Agreed, thanks for the list! I'm still OK with the pace.
Morgrym watches Richter's study of the room. What in blazes be he doin' shoppin' now?!
Morgrym claps Sohar on the arm. "Sorry fer yer lack o' sleep, elf. Shoulda asked about it meself earlier." He then waits for Coiger's questions.
Good so far! Honestly, combat's not my main concern in PBPs, but I build PCs for it just in case.
"Ye be too kind, ma'm," Morgrym says proudly.
"Bah,, looked t' be poor craftsmanship anyway. No dwarven-make 'd fall down that easy.... Say, ye got summin' in yer eye, Chellian?"
"Jorfa, eh? Not sure we got even that out o' her. Good t' know." Morgrym holds the door for the others as they enter the apothecary.
Morgrym grunts in surprise. "Never had me a human lawkeeper tell me t' get t' drinkin' this early in the day. Maybe he's got a bit o' dwarf blood in 'im." After Coiger grills Richter, he agrees, "Aye, let's be off t' see th' professer's lady friend. Sure'n she knows a thing 'r two."
South of town about half a mile, a large hill rises 30 or 40 feet above the surrounding land. It is crowned by the crumbling remains of a walled structure, Harrowstone Prison. The road toward that hill is somewhat grown over, but shows obvious signs of having been a busy thoroughfare in the past and getting only minor traffic today.
Morgrym taps the side of his nose conspiratorially, the moves to step away. "Come on, all. Let's go see this big durn prison what everyone keeps talkin' about. Must be a true sight up close, an' I'd hate t' travel all o' this way an' no' see it."
"Then maybe ye would no mind us takin' a quick look around here then, eh Sheriff? Might be that a summin' small points us in another direction than you 'n yer boys."
"Aye, that be one ugly sight. Enough t' turn the stomach o' most folk. Blech," he spits off to the side, but stands back and lets Coiger take the lead.
"Apologies, glad fer the praise. I be o' clan Stonepick. Miners, all, but we be fair decent at armor craftin', too. I'm humbled by yer praise, and will let ye know if any work be needin' t' be done." After hearing the exchange about the monument, and without ability to help with work, Morgrym shrugs when the dwarf smith turns back to her work. He looks at Coiger, "Think we ought t' be on our way t' this monument, then?"
Hi all - I have to go out of town for work today through Sunday unexpectedly. I will try to post if possible. Feel free to RP it up without me.
"Aye, that it be. Not sure if ye have a call fer much o' it here in the farmlands, but sure'n a milita needs t' be prepared when roused."
Morgrym bows low at the waist, and addresses her with a formality that he has not shown thus far. "Madam Forgemaster, I'd be Morgrym of the mines of Barstoi. Me work is armorcrafting, and this piece should speak to itself. I know me way around forge, hammer, and anvil." He draws forth his chain shirt from his pack, one he crafted himself, and holds it forth in display.
Good morning. What do you need today? "Good mornin', lad! We be new t' town, and wish t' offer our services to the lady o' the forge there, as we be folk skilled at the crafting trade, and will be here in town for a month 'r more to come, we dinna want to simply set up shop on our own, but t' work with the best. If she be free, we'd be much obliged to talk wi' her."
"I think maybe the smithy first, see what our luck be there, then on to th' sheriff. Don't want to give away our best source o' goins-on here in town." He taps the side of his nose while giving Embra a conspiratorial wink while standing and heading out the door.
He pays his due and even though he is by nature a notoriously poor tipper he does tip 25% (5 sp) this time. Morgrym waves away Coiger's money. "I got ye covered this monrin', Coiger. Ye can buy t'morrow, if need be."
Morgrym puts down 18 silver pieces for the food, drink, and information. "Truly, it be a delicious concoction ye have here, Madam Embra, an' the best in hospitality and... such other things as be needin'. Should have me set fer the rest o' the day, but I'm sure t' be back again before long." Looking to the others and says, "I'm wont t' eat that again, I best find the smithy an' see if I might be o' help. We're to be here fer a whole month, and I best be makin' meself useful somewhere." He looks at Richter. "Ye know the forge woman here, lad? Might be that breakfast is worth an introduction to her for me."
Morgrym pushes out a chair for Richter to sit, shaking his head as he says, "Sumptin' be up at the monument, the one o' the prison. Sounds grim, too. Blood all over the damn thing, apparently, and a dead cat next t' it." Scratching at his beard, he muses, "Reckon' we should go take a look at it, eh? Wonder if'n that local sheriff might need a hand figgurin' out who dunnit. Coiger here'd prob'ly get it inna minute or two o' thinkin."
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