Skorabor Skalfgrin Boulderback's page

Skorabor's suspicious eyes keep darting up and down the path and all around as if expecting an ambush at every turn.

"Gah, wretched creatures and ill omens!" Skorabor exclaims with a powerful voice that travels through the woods. "Take us to your master that we shall end this horrible blight upon the earth!" he commands.

Skorabor walks up to the bones and rummages through them. "Is this someone's lair?" he asks Horn.

I'm guessing one rock each?

Skorabor watches the elk with suspicious eyes for a moment before picking up one of the rocks. "Will these have an effect on the Oak?"

I foresee Skorabor loosing his stone in a near future

Skorabor continues to glower at the supposed spirit but releases some of the zeal from his posture. It was customary to rely on his fists when his words failed him but the situation was not as straight forward that he could opt for violence without complicating things. The slayer moves to the stone to oversee its destruction.

"How do we know to trust you?" Skorabor growls at the elk, its appearance doing nothing to instill trust in the dwarf.

Skorabor growls and is prepared to lock horns with the uncanny spirit but holds his action as Horn speaks up. He takes a step back content to study the situation but keeps the notion of a full fledged attack as a viable option.

Skorabor braces for an incomming attack, ready to meet force with force. He keeps his axe in a sure grip and flashes a fierce glower of teeth.

Defy danger (con) roll: 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (4, 1) + 2 = 7 => RAWR! or perhaps just rawr.

Keeping his head tilted forward in a head on charge Skorabor dashes through the woods with his axe in one hand and the other swatting at branches in his way. If one was searching for a illustration of the phrase “Rushing headlong into danger” one needn’t look further.

By the way, before I forget: is the missed discern realities roll is worth one xp? Or is it just actions with a “Failure” clause (like hack and slash, etc.)

Skorabor: You're finding it worthless, pushing through the brush with out any idea of where you ought to be heading. The thorns claw at your clothing and the edges of your trimmed beard. Then you hear a horrible whistling howl. You aren't sure why, but you imagine it has something to do with the others, and for the moment it provides a heading. Though it seems further away than you would have expected. How have you ended up so far from where you started?

Should you follow the noise, how carefully do you do so?

Careful is just another word for "Bad slayer"

The silence of the forest unsettles the Skorabor more than anything else, so the horrible howl comes as somewhat of a relief to the slayer. A vast emptiness causes the dwarf more unease than a tangible threat. At least a threat was something to react to. He had no idea how to handle nothingness. Reinvigorated by something breaking through the vacuum Skorabor takes off towards the source of the sound, pushing the branches a side with little concern to clear his path.

Skorabor’s eyes dart back and forth feverishly looking for the elk. Anticipating an attack at any moment his senses is on high alert with his axe ready strike. He jumps back and forth a few time determined to never keep his back faced somewhere for more than a few seconds. When nothing happens his attentive stance is replaced by dumbfoundedness staring up and down the path, while scratching his beard in thought. Eventually he moves back into the foliage from where he came and tries to backtrack to the ghost stone where he left his companions.

Discern realities roll: 2d6 - 1 ⇒ (1, 2) - 1 = 2 => gah, elk bad!

Skorabor fails to learn anything from the cuts in the trees beyond that they make him feel unease. Determined and to the point, like slayers tend to be, he decides to face the situation head on and see what happens. He steps out of the brushwork and into the view of the elk. His eyes dart from side to side looking for other creatures hiding among the trees before they focus on the elk. He takes a step forward and lock eyes with the animal, bracing for what happens next.

Skorabor studies the creature while trying to shake the uneasy feeling running down his spine. He moves closer to one of the trees dressed in scrapes and studies the cuts more closely. With his eyes at first, then by smelling them and finally he runs one of his fingers through a cut.

Does he know that ever since the third Slayer, there have always been more dead Slayers than living? He's in over his head... no pun intended![/b]

That's one of the points of "slayering". Glorious death! :)

Skorabor raises his axe to cleave the approaching shade, a futile gesture no doubt, but lowers it again as the shade is halted. "Keep that thing in check, I'll check the brush."

The slayer moves down the path towards the scraping. "I am Skorabor, slayer and dwarven champion. Reveal yourself!" he bellows.

Perhaps you have to be tainted to see the inn keeper?

"It's the inn keeper", Skorabor says and tightens the grip of his axe. The argument had drawn the dwarf from the path and onto the stone. Now he stands poised looking straight at the eerie specter. "Is he one of those shades, or is he something else?"

Skorabor: In regards to the above note, to what degree are you studying the Ghost Stone by tapping it? Is it extensive, or half-hearted? If extensive, then please roll Discern Realities.

Half-hearted. Skorabor is not a scholar :) Or at least not anymore :)

Skorabor takes a few more steps down the path. "What are those moans? More shades or something else?"

Skorabor ignores Gil and Djack and heads straight for the stone while the two quibble. His brow furrows in thought as he studies the unknown symbol, tapping it once or twice with the blade of his axe. His (fruitless) study of the rune if cut short by something moving in his peripheral vision. He emits a low displeased growl and takes a few steps down the path with his axe ready. ”Did someone see that?”

Skorabor halts and eyes Djack once more. He had expected a fanatic zealot but this was more like a unfledged recruit in way over his head. He wondered if it was a ruse or real. It didn’t really matter. Either way it spelled trouble. Although the boy’s torches would come in handy in the tunnel. ”Make yourself useful and light one of those torches”, Skorabor grunts and extends his and expecting to receive a lit torch.

Should he get one he moves down into the hole and follows the tunnel.

Skorabor’s eyes continues to follow the witch hunter until he switches his disapproving gaze to Djack. He looks the man over head to toe then snorts and turns towards the barn. ”If you follow you do so on your own peril. I can’t guarantee your safety” he tells the witch hunter’s auxiliary.

Skorabor keeps his eyes fixed on the witch hunter awaiting his reaction.

Skorabor is not quite sure what happened in the barn. The worg is most likely one of Mandus creations but what was it's purpose. A stalling tactic or did he and Horn have a falling out. Never the less with his blood brother giving chase he has but one option. To stop it. Skorabor comes running through the gun smoke as it clears gaining on the worg with heavy and forceful steps. With a battle cry the slayer takes to the air leaping towards the undead beast intent of bringing his axe throgh its lower back.

Skorabor roils as his plans are foiled once again. He had planned to deliver the water then quickly make it back to the barn before the Witch Hunter emerged from the inn. No such luck and with the added commotion now the Witch Hunter was heading for the barn. Right to where his best lead to the Oak lay. The best lead to his current oath. Damn foolish elf, if he hadn’t torched the inn they might be on their way by now he curses. Albeit they would have a witch hunter on their trail, but it was better than a witch hunter in their face. He would have been much easier to deal with outside of the village. Still, there was still some light. Horn’s outburst, and he knew it was Horn, Skorabor would recognise his blood brother from any distance, did imply that there was some opposition in the barn. With any luck they could still portray this as a just cause. Skorabor emits another rumble and walks after the trio heading for the barn contemplating what he can tell the witch hunter to resolve the situation. Or at least keep it from boiling over.

Skorabor gives the stable hand a long grudgeful look before going to the other side of the troughs. Who did the redhead think he was, talking to Skorabor in that way? The dwarf’s two meaty fists takes a firm grip on both sides of the trough and lifts it suddenly with forceful motion causing a wave of water to spill over the stable hand’s trousers and boots. ”Don’t just stand there, hurry up!” he growls and motions onward. He constantly pushes forward to deliberately make himself the carrier who’s facing forward and forcing the redhead to back up and stumble the whole way to the inn.

You're just intent on making it harder for me, aren't you? :D

When Skorabor sees the red-haired gentleman move towards the barn he drops his water barrel and leaves it for the mob to use. He runs after the gentleman. "You! Help me with the water troughs inside the barn!" he bellows at the man abit to loud. Loud enough to carry through to the barn.

What are you studying or trying to discern Skorabor? If it's just observation then it's likely information you don't even have to roll for

Mainly scouting the mob to discern it’s reaction to me. Is it:

Or perhaps something else entirely. My main goal is to sneak away into the barn without being detected. I’m scouting the area for tools or items that could help me with that. I might have to run inside the taven, but if there’s something that can facilitate another plan I rather do that first.

D’oh! The witch hunter threw a spanner in the works…

Skorabor scoffs at the witch hunters command. No human authority commands a slayer, no matter what station. The hunter’s action nullified Skorabor’s original plan, unless the hunter perished from the flames. ‘The dwarf mutters something underneath his breath then throws the water from the barrel at the fire with a powerful thrust. While moving to get the next rain barrel Skorabor studies the surrounding area trying to craft a new plan of action.

Perhaps time for a Discern realities roll?

Ouch, this certainly is a pickle.

Skorabor finds himself faced with two impossible options. He should stay and face the Witch Hunter. Slayer's don't run. He should also run directly to the barn to aid Horn in his quest. He'd made an oath. Slayer's don't break oaths.

The entire village square had seen him. They might not know what he was but a few certainly did. And those who didn't were probably capable of generating a rumor or two. He looked at the barn. Should he run now more than one story teller would weave him into the role of the arsonist when history was written. His best bet was do create enough chaos and gather enough of a crowd when putting out the fire then disappear in the confusion. There was a good chance that a sizable part would then remember him from the effort to put out the fire, instead of the time it started.

"Go to the barn. I'm going to stay here to calm the fire. I'll catch up", he whispers to Horn. Then he bellows "Get some water!" while running to the rain barrels.

His plan is to pick up the rain barrels and throw them on the fire, and make sure that the rest of the crowd sees this. When the crowd has gathered he'll announce that he's going to look for survivors, brave the flames and run into the inn. He'll either try and exit through the back (if he knows that there's a back door) or climb the stairs and throw himself out a window in Gil-fashion (albeit less graceful). Damn Gilder and Morgan for taking those dwarven skeletons. They would be real handy now in faking his death :)

Seeing the flames creeping closer to the alcohol storage Skorabor runs for the door waving for Horn to open it. Once out the in the street he bellows "Fire! Fire!" hoping to gather a crowd which he and Horn then can use to escape to the barn.

Ah, ook. Mandus, you owe me 5 dungeon rations! :)

D'oh, I missed that the fire had already started. So long to the loot and rations then I guess :) Also strike the previous conversation.

Skorabor freezes and at the sight of the flames which catches him all by surprise. The arrival of the witch hunter must have distracted him from the warmth which was now growing to quite uncomfortable levels. When he left the the inn it had been a mess. Now it was on its way to an inferno. "By the shadowed numbers of Malumtanis, They've already started the fire", he says to Horn through the door. The slayer's voice is equal parts absent and amazed. He looks around for some kind of food storage so far untouched by the flames.

If he finds one
Finding a possible place where some rations might be kept Skorabor dashes towards the room and rummages through it as fast as he can in search of some durable food.

If not
Skorabor turns and bursts out the door. Once out the in the street he bellows "Fire! Fire!" hoping to gather a crowd which he and Horn then can use to escape to the barn.

With a glance down at his leg and a shake of his head, Horn steps out, grabs Skorabor by the arm, and says, "I suspect you hate this as much as I do, but the die has been cast. Will you run with me to the barn, to see if we can pursue this 'Oak' back to her nest?"

”He’s going through with it?!” Skorabor snarls and casts a glance over his shoulder. He takes a deep sigh to reconcile with the situation. ”Yes, I will follow you to deal with the Oak. Your quest is my quest.” He takes another look at the witch hunter. ”But I’m going to need my gear if we are to travel.” He turns casually and walks through the door. Once inside he races up the stairs to the room where he slept and quickly gathers his belongings (adventure pack and food). Back at the common room he stares hard at Gil (if he’s present). ”Is there a back door?”

Sounds about right. Did someone try to stop Gil or is he preparing the inn for insurance fraud? :)

Skorabor is talking through the door :) Not sure how much get's through though. That's Moghtransir's call.

The skink frowns at each of you, in turn - Skorabor, Gil, and Horn.

Skorabor is outside. With a closed door between him and the rest of the party :)

"What?!" Skorabor exclaims before settling down to not attract attention. "Stop that fool! They know we are here at the inn. Torching it will attract to many questions!" he snaps over his shoulder while trying his best to look calm.

"Are you finished in there?" Skorabor asks through the door keeping his voice from carrying over to the gathering of witch hunters and villagers. "Get a move on, you don't have much time before they come this way."

Cursing his bad luck Skorabor watches the inquisitors with a fixed gaze. They where zealots and dangerous ones at that. Eventhough he himself had nothing to hide he doubted that they would take kindly to what was happening inside the inn. And just entering the village the travelers would probably be looking for an inn. He also figured that he was nothing close to invisible, a dwarven slayer standing just outside the entrance leaning on his axe. Still, a slayer runs from no one. Should the inquisitors provoke a fight they would get one. Scrapping the stealthy route Skorabor opts to wait to see what they want. He keeps his gaze fixed on them waiting to see what happens.

Skorabor is about to deliver a final warning when the inn keeper launches at Horn. The slayer is to slow to react only managing to slap the arm aside while Gil plants his sabre in the man's chest. "Brother, are you ok?" he asks fervently.

Moments later
"Do what you must. I shall keep the crowd in check", Skorabor tells Mandus. The slayer grabs his axe and goes outside to see what the crowd has gathered for.

He recalled one that described a fey tree spirit, not very unlike the description the innkeeper gave, whose touch left marks on the scales of the victims. Though the scales felt no pain from the mark, nor gave any outward sign of injury, the spot was in fact a grievous open wound. The mark was a symbol of illusion that completely masked the pain and made the victim unaware and unable to treat themselves. As a result, victims of the fey spirit's embrace would succumb to infection within days of walking about with their flesh hanging open in secret.

Ouch, that is creepy and awesome!

"You sell us out to the necromancer then expect us to help you. As you may or may not know my oath as a slayer prohibits me from killing you. However it does not force me to help you. You will be more forthcomming with your answers or I will walk, leaving you and your crippled legs on the floor. The path to the tree, please."

Skorabor snorts and walks over to the inn keeper. "Considering your situation your words keep a surprisingly stiff tone", he says and lifts the beams off the man's crippled legs. He takes a seat next to the inn keeper using one of the beams as a bench. Before commencing the interrogation Skorabor grabs his axe and thrusts its blade deep into the floor board next to the inn keeper with a powerful swing. Having set a proper mood the slayer continues his questioning. "You should adjust your level of cooperation to fit the situation," he warns. "As I was asking, how do you keep in contact with the necromancer?"

It doesn't apply when he's sleeping or newly awake :)

Skorabor grunts gruffly as he is nudged awake. His eyes are still closed as the dwarf inhales deeply and releases a bellowing belch and rumbles through the room and shakes the floorboards slightly but noticeably. He smacks his lips contently and opens his eyes. The dwarf sits up and shakes the vision back into his eyes. "So, he's awake? What does he have to tell us?" he asks and jumps to his feet with surprising grace.

"You better get one thing straight. Skorabor belongs to nobody but Skorabor! Not to some oak lady shadowy necromancer. Understood?" he growls. Once his point is settled he asks "How do you talk to the necromancer?"

Is Skorabor still dizzy from the blow he took last night when landing in the secret room?

Tomorrow I'll travel abroad. I'll be back (*giggle*) the 17th of july. I might post something during the next one and a half weeks but it only be me holding up the action please DMPC as necessary.

Those people are the reason I'm caught up in this, Skorabor thinks to himself. His sense of duty prohibits him from speaking it aloud, the dwarf instead settles for another gruff grunt and looks at the dwarven skeletons. "Who are they? He's got alot to answer for when he wakes up" Skorabor growls and looks at the unconscious barkeep.

What happens to the boots Morgan grabbed btw? Stay on his now NPC character or move to someone else? Skorabor could "rediscover them" now fx.

"You'd be surprised Dwarf. Everyone needs coin, and sooner or later you get a good excuse to stab someone whos got more than he needs." He followed Skorabor inside, leaving the ghost mongering to the two shaman. "So, Dwarf, whats all this Slayer business you seem to put so much stock in? Ive seen a few of your kind before, but they all seemed rather tight lipped about it." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Or maybe it was that I never cared to ask. Yes thats more likely actually."

Skorabor releases a annoyed grunt. He did not like to talk about it but he had no choice. Part of the slayer oath was to uphold the renowned honesty of the dwarves. That burden lay even heavier on his shoulders on shoulders because of his family’s shame was rooted in dishonesty. ”A great shame lies upon my family. Our members took part in unjust affairs to further their own gain. I was tasked to take the Oath of the Slayer and repair the damage done to the Boulderback name”, he growls and grips the jug tight in his hand.

Skorabor stands leaning on his axe watching the exchange. "You best reconsider that. You should not get between Horn hand his catch", he warns Mandus. Then he looks at Gil. "As for you. You're welcome to tag along, but if you do it for money I doubt you see much of it here."

"I'm thirsty. I'm going to have a chat with the barkeep." Skorabor goes back to the tavern to try and wake the barkeep. If he's still out cold Skorabor will help himself to a jug of ale, grab a torch and examine the two dwarven skeletons hidden in the secret chamber.

@DM: We'll get to the Make camp move eventually. I'm sure of it :)

"Keep your hands to yourself if you wish to hold on to them", Skorabor growls and swats away Gil's blade with his hand. He stands up, tests the leg with a few jumps. It felt good enough, but would it last. Looking at it Skorabor had figured the wound unhealable, but perhaps Mandus had proved him wrong. Only time would tell.

"As for us, we're here to kill the necromancer that hides in these woods. She corrupts the forest and it is brother Horn's will to remove her, and my duty to assist him."

"I'm a dwarf who's taken the Slayer's oath. I'll shall remain standing as long as I will it!" Skorabor announces proudly. Having made is statement however he concedes to have Mandus mend his wound.

Mandus looks to the barn. Seeing it smoldering and smoky but intact, he rises (unsteadily) to his feet. He lifts both arms over his head slowly, exulting in his triumph even as he winces from his painful cracked scales rubbing over one another. He laughs, throwing his head back, and the chuckling turns into a whoop of celebration! "PRAISE BE TO THE SUN GOD!" he cries, then doubles over, clutching his stomach in laughter. "My service was done well," he repeats in a muttering voice to himself a few times. His voice sounds cracked and harsh from inhaling so much heat at once.

After a moment, he whirls around. "AH! But my service is not yet complete! Skorabor, my dwarven friend!" he reaches deep into his pack, rummaging a moment, before pulling out a hunk of the dwarf's calf that was ripped clean off by the wolf! He holds it aloft triumphantly, not noticing some of the dwarf's blood still dripping down his clothes until after a few drops have already spilled.

The skinkman approaches Skorabor with an air of sudden, curt professionalism. "Now then," he says, taking out his needle and thread, which are of fine quality and design, "We'd best get started before it begins to smell! More than you usually do, I mean!" he elbows the dwarf in the ribs good-naturedly as he moves behind Skorabor to reattach the...well...back of his leg. Hoping that might help him move away from the Shakey condition, perhaps after a night's rest?

Skorabor loses his momentum once again as a new input is presented to his senses. He’d never had trouble handling multiple things before. He had infact been rather good at it. But the slayer oath changes dwarf. Appearently down to the core. Mandus’ approach and weaving of Skorabor’s hindleg caught his attention as a squirrel distracting a pitbull. He knew the skink. It was Mandus, the shaman he met along time ago on that expedition. He had been able to some pretty amazing things. This was also about the time Skorabor once again noticed that his leg was hurting. Badly. ”What are you going to do with that?”, he asks with a hint of suspicion and takes a few leaps on one foot to keep his wounded leg away from Mandus.

Skorabor interposes himself between Gil and the two halflings. "What do you think you're going to do with that thing? There will be no execution here. That mink is going to squeak of what pollution he claims to cling to us, then Horn is going to decide what to do with him", he says and looks dwavenly stubborn.