Nubbawub Sodtopper's page

No worries, I just don't wanna be That Guy who holds things back. :D

Nubs gives as little information as he can to the guards; as familiar as he is with the terrain, his hermitage kept him wary and distant from gangs of armed folks.

Once in the city, he stays close to the party and looks the least excited of the bunch to find another inn. Even with the chill in the air, he'd rather a campfire and bedroll over stomping longshanks.

So when Ulyrk waves the gnome and priestess over to go map finding, he's happy to grab his backpack, tie his pony to Ulryk's cart, and tag along.

What's the posting frequency expectation? I'm getting about two a day in and feel like I'm falling behind.

Weren't kidding when you said the dice were swingy. Back-to-back natural 1 and 20. :D

I got lost trying to track who paid for what; Nubs barely has any coin on hand and rolled so low on his customs Know (local) check to know what's appropriate to pay and tip, so I'll empty all 8 of his silvers out and hope for the best.

earlier...

Nubs settles in with his bowl of stew, eats and enjoys it, and relaxes as Areanna performs. He's quick to turn in when he gets a chance, though, but not before the innkeep gently reminds him to pay for his pony's stabling for the night.

the next day...

Nubs is also up early, if only to take the vigorous debate over bathing as a cue to take one himself -- with his clothes on, because why would someone waste the opportunity to wash them at the same time? -- before the inn begins to bustle.

After helping himself to warm porridge, he thanks the innkeep and heads outside to fetch his pony, which the stablehands are relieved to relinquish after a stubborn night.

Nubs is out of what little coin he had once all his paying and tipping are done, without much concern as he figures he can better find a decent place to hide the further they get from civilization.

Being outdoors perks him back up, and he happily hums Areanna's song from the night before until and once they hit the trail.

When the party assembles, the gnome joins everyone on foot and uses his pony as a pack mule, keeping his pack and bags slung over its back and leading it by its reins and bridle.

at the gate...

Preemptively rolling knowledge checks:

I'm good to move on!

Nubs really does feel like he's surrounded by big walking willowy trees. The simple fact Brigid was seated makes her the most approachable even if she seems more distant in manners.

Still, the gnome appreciates her simple, straightforward answer and manages to look considerably less worried about the prospect of food coming over to him.

"Oh... that's a right novel idear. I just gotta sit an' food'll come over? Beats runnin' after it with a bow an' knife."

So he sits down, immediately feels dwarfed again between the table's height and Brigid's, and scampers back up to his feet atop the seat with a sheepish grin.

"Or mebbe they think I'm sittin' already."

He spots Ulryk waving from a few tables away and waves back.

"Or mebbe we need ta head over ta Y'allrick since he gave 'em money?"

Nubs wrinkles his hat's brim backward with a furrowed brow, looks to Brigid, then looks back to Ulryk and shrugs.

Nubs can't even remember the last time he slept under a roof and finds himself more than a little nervous about being cooped up with a bunch of strangers. His usual chatty nature is overwhelmed by how little he really knows of these long-leggers, their cities, or their ways.

Without much trust in even unloading his bow, arrows, and cane, he carries them as gingerly as he can to get closer to Brigid. The gnome climbs onto the bench to stand on it and get a better view.

"Hey, er... how'dya get that food, Briggit?" Instead of his jovial tone from the road, his voice is quiet and timid. His face is bright pink from embarrassment and wrinkled with a frown. "Sorry ta ask... Ol' Nubs don't, ah, I dunno how ta get food inna place like this."

"Whew! Y'allrick, buddy, ya got armor'n everythin'!" Nubs reins Applecrusher around to ride alongside the the Brevoyic armsman, although even when mounted the gnome can barely make eye contact. "Sure am glad yer here. Ol' Nubs 'preciates a big ol' head thwacker! Pap always said, 'Hit 'em with th' biggest stick you ken carry!' An' that's a big'un, yep!"

Looking past Ulryk, Nubs smiles up even higher at the towering Areanna. "And Ol' Nubs is glad ta know they teach y'all singers some practicality-like things too, like bow shootin'. Yer bow get a little too bent up, Airyanner, just let Ol' Nubs take a look. Fix 'er right up. Mebbe we go huntin' t'gether, share bow-shootin' tips! Zwing! Thwack!"

After a toothy laugh, Nubs looks around again. "But I coulda sworn I saw some red-head somethin'-er-other. 'nother longshanker like y'all. And some sneaky type... but mebbe that was jus' some shadows."

"Now wait-a-minnit, wait a gob-danged minnit!"

Nubs fishes his rolled-up charter out of his back pocket, beady eyes and a crooked finger darting across the signatures.

"Airyanna, Survetlana, Kentun Saideye... y'all mean ta tell Ol' Nubs he signed up witha, witha, witha -- no affense, now -- witha bookworm, a lady priest, anna singer? Pshaw." The gnome shakes his head, then rolls and stuffs the charter back into the back pocket of his pants. "Nonna ya's a big ol' fightin' battler? Skull bashers? Whack! Whack!" Nubs swings his arms around in mock battle from his saddle, which slides precariously from side to side.

"No affense now, but ooooooh, my pap useta warn me 'boutcha longshankers. Thinkin' y'all can talk, talk, talk yer way outta trouble. Ol' Nubbawub Sodtopper the T'ird 'ere ain't 'cited 'bout runnin' off inta no Stolen Lands, what with it fulla bandits an' Groety-knows-what, if'n Ol' Nubbawub Sodtopper the T'ird is gonna be all th' muscle. Ain't that right, Apples?"

The pony flaps its lips.

Nubs snorts and hocks onto the ground a pink loogie bigger than his gnomish sinuses ought to allow.

"Trainin'?" The gnome shakes his head, his broad hat flopping a little from side to side with each short step of the dark brown pony he rides. "Ain't no trainin' on how ta survive, son! Y'either do it or ya don't! And if ya don't, then y'ain't gotta worry 'bout no trainin'!"

Nubs flashes a yellowed, crooked grin up at Kent. "The heck ya do where y'ain't gotta know how ta survive? Are ya dead already? Ya sure don't look dead."

Nubs wears a ragged shirt and trousers that fit a few sizes too large, a wide-brimmed black hat that shades all but his long nose, and rough leather boots held together by some terrible stitching. His shortbow and arrows are slung across his back.

His steed is a beefy brown bull of a pony with a grumpy face and overgrown mane that he frequently shakes from his face. Two burlap sacks and a backpack are slung over his back, and his saddles looks similarly rigged from a larger mount's.

Wow! Thanks for picking me. I've added a link to Nubs' HeroLab portfolio and fleshed out his background a bit. Please let me know if I should add more.

Nubs could make some charts but I'm not sure anyone wants to read his handwriting. :D

Yer big doofy party'll face ol' Groety laters than sooners if'n ya don't bring ol' Nubs along. *spits*