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The Dwarf nods. "Very well. I'll go talk to the blacksmith. Giovanni, get everyone suited up with all the gear we'll need for the cold. I've got the goods to make hot meals, but make sure everyone has at least a mug, bowl, and spoon. If it;s as cold as this man says, we'll likely need some small tents as well. I'll leave you to it." With that, Rolph walks out the door and over to the smithy. Before he enters, he casts a cantrip on himself to hopefully expedite matters.
The dwarf nods. "Are we all going? All right then. First, I need to know what weapons you'll need. It should take me a day or two to make them." He turns to the two women. "To do this, I'll need some time at the forge. If you could arrange for me to work tonight and tomorrow at the blacksmith, I'd appreciate it."
Rolph continued to examine the man's extremities. his healing powers had turned the man's fingers and nose from a sickly, bloodless grey to a marginally less unsettling white. The dwarf took each of the man's hands in turn and rubbed and slapped them vigorously to get the blood flowing again. "There. That should do. Rub your nose and walk around after a bit to save your toes and face." He spoke to the healers, telling them not to let him handle anything hot, or put his feet too close to the fire, until they were sure feeling had returned, lest he burn himself without knowing. He then turned back to the man on the pallet. "Tell us more about these 'winter-touched'."
"We're here to help sir, and to listen" The dwarf approaches the man and examines his extremities, setting his hammer aside. "I've seen burns like these in the mountains.". He touches the first two fingers of his left hand to the birth mark on his forehead and lays the right on the old man's chest.
"Can you tell us what happened?"
Rolph watches the woman enter, listens to her speak, and watches her stride out again. He looks to his companion under raised brows. Presently, he shrugs. "I guess I'm the 'adventuring type.'" . The dwarf sets what's left of his beer in front of the towering Ulfen, stands, retrieves his hammer, and walks out of the inn and over to the house of healing.
Rolph forces a smile and looks up at the gnoll. Bee mead! he repeats, giving a thumbs-up. He turns to Giovanni. Let me know if you need help. We don't want any trouble. He slaps a coin on the bar, and tells the barman For the mead. inclining his head toward the larger of the two humanoids. He then takes two flagons from the bar, offers the hobgoblin a small salute with one, and returns to his table.
Caught unprepared, Rolph visibly recoils upon seeing the sharp teeth, bronze skin, and red eyes of the hobgoblin. The goblin mutters at him in a language he does not understand, but has heard many times, in skirmishes and ambushes in his homeland. The sound of it sends a chill up his spine. His hands clench, longing to grip his hammer, but it lays on the table a dozen or more feet away, next to Karl. He backs away a step. girding himself for an attack, assessing his enemy. This goblin is not clad in rags or tatters of armor, or the one-size-fits-all mail the more regimented hobgoblin smiths favor. His weapon is not of rough goblin-make. He is not a hunched, slavering monster. He stands there, in an inn, composed and doing business with humans calm and peacefully. His words do not threaten or intimidate. The goblin points to Rolph and the room's other clearly armed occupants calmly and without aggression. Taking a deep breath, Rolph composes himself, squaring off in front of the goblin and locking eyes with him. He'll be damned if he'll be the one to bring bloodshed into this place if he can help it. He speaks in low tones. I'm sorry... friend: I don't speak your language. He extends a broad hand, rough with toil. Rolph. Of the Ironbrows.
The big man bellows ...and den Hvergl says :affects a low gravelly voice "Don't for tell me wife, or hy vill get no supper ven I come home tonight!" BAHAHAHAHAHA! He slaps his dwarf friend on his meaty shoulder hard enough to send beer sloshing from his cup. For his part, the dwarf shakes his head and laughs. He has heard Hvergl's story many times before. He tilts his head back and drains his drink in several large gulps. I'll get us another round. he says as he rises and walks over to the bar. Another two. Throw some water in them: I don't want to have to lug Karl upstairs again tonight. He leans on the bar, waiting, and looks over to the hooded and scarved stranger. The red's alright, but try the mead. There's a beekeeper outside of the village who makes it fresh.
At a table near the fire, a six and a half foot mountain of a man (if mountains could go unshaven for a week, have a sizable gut, and smell of stale sweat and beer) wearing the (unkempt) blonde braids and bushy blonde mustache of an Ulfen sits laughing and drinking with a broad shouldered dwarf. The dwarf shakes his head and chuckles at his friend's tall tales, scratching at his dark whiskers and pulling deeply on a flagon of something. He is clad in a simple peasant's shirt, well made brown canvas pants, and heavy boots. His hair is pulled back and tied into a simple braid, bound with a carved iron holder. A warhammer of dark steel with a well worn handle rests on the table next to him, and, oddly, its little brother lays upon his forehead in the form of a dark portwine birthmark, the handle at his hairline, the head low over his heavy brow. As the newcomer tromps in and speaks, something about his mien and his accent makes the dwarf look up for a moment to look him over. Noting nothing particularly suspicious, he turns back to his friend's raucous blather.
You know, like a sausage I forgot that Whilelmina is a sorcerer, and has a diplomacy trait to boot (it always bothered me that sorcerers, as a Cha heavy class, do not get diplomacy as a class skill). It looks like we're liking Alec. W. has us covered in the arcane and face department. Do we want to double down on those factors with Selena or look at another applicant?
Thanks for the vote of confidence, you guys! I agree that we need a melee damage dealer, preferably one with a tanker bent. That said, with two of the four so far being 3/4 d8 types, we aren't as squishy as we might be. We are lacking in trap skills and wilderness survival skills. A ranger would be perfect for this AP. Are there any ranger archetypes with anti trap skills? We would also benefit from a party face. |
