I'm afraid it's time to stick a fork in this one :-(.
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Sympathies. That sucks.
Thorfinn nods slowly. "In truth, their traps call for cunning of our own. 'Bare is brotherless back,' say the sagas, so steadfast I'll stand to shield those sure in siege-crafting, taming the traps so the fight be fought fairly."
"Little I care for the kobold's combat-craft and drake-born dweomers. All shall fall before this fight-flame!" He pats his sword hilt.
Thorfinn doesn't glance up from his rapidly-emptying plate during the conversation. Once he finishes, though, he takes a swig of wine to clear his throat and asks, "This Lady Tula--how did she come to found the town here?"
Thorfinn scratches his beard. "Something else there was in the way the cave-crawler spoke...what was it? It seemed something had changed for their band not long ago, but she kept her counsel on what it was."
The barbarian shakes his head when he hears his name, then shrugs. "He's dead, and with none here to sing of his deeds he'll soon be forgotten."
Still fuming about the blacksmith, Thorfinn keeps mum.
Glad everyone is doing better!
Not that I know of; I sent a friend request to the DM and haven't heard anything. It's probably the US holiday week.
Once the business at the temple of Abadar has been concluded, Thorfinn returns to the inn. He's still quiet, watching for the honorless sneak to try another attack, but relaxes a bit once he gets dinner.
The source of the term is a blog post from 2003, HERE.
I first heard it on Disability Twitter, I think, and it's pretty common among the people I know. (Most of us aren't MDs; my doctorate is in metallurgical engineering, which is pretty far from medicine.)
Thorfinn has been glowering since his defeat at the hands (er, shield) of the craven smith. "Aye, cures would be welcome. The Baroness herself has charged us with rooting out the kobold band that brought down yon tower, and the cunning cave-crawlers wield well their tricks and traps."
I could deal with that, but I'm already using Discord--makes it easy. Apologies for the delay in posting. I've got covid, and despite not having a bad case it still severely impacted my available spoons.
"It offered us keys in return for each of us sitting in a torture chair. Pardon me, I am Thorfinn son of Feigr. What may we call you?"
Thorfinn glares back at the departing smith. It'll be a hot day in Whitethrone before you get a copper from me. Honorless nithing. "No wizard in that tower. It belonged to the old rulers here, I think. A wizard gave the order to bring it down, though, and for his pains ended his life under it."
Thorfinn laughs even louder and follows up with another blow.
"Nice try! HO HO HO!" Thorfinn winds up and swings at the smith.
Just catching up now. It's been a busy few days; about time for me to go back to work so I can relax a bit.
"Try it, fat man."
"Before I turn your mop into kindling, you should know we are sworn in service to your tha--your baroness. What would she say if she knew how you are treating us?"
The question is more how quickly we can get masterwork weapons, and the rules for crafting are not friendly to PCs--taking 10 on Craft checks, it'll take Aleksara just under two weeks just to make a greatsword. The masterwork addition is DC 20, so she can't do that by taking 10.
I'm at a workshop this week, but should be back to a more normal posting schedule by Friday.
Not much for Thorfinn to do until we finish the shopping trip.
The Ulfen taps the dust off of the scabbard. That'll need some oiling, else it's going to crack. He steps away from the others and partially draws the blade, getting a feel for the grip and examining the steel with a practiced eye. "Do you have a training post?"
Thorfinn holds up his sheathed greatsword. "One like this, only better balanced."
"I will come with you, friend Xylas. Maybe we can find a smith in town...with the money we have found, I can buy a better sword."
"The kobold said east of the fen, near the old quarry." He shrugs. "Maybe that's a trap, though. I did almost kill her."
Thorfinn grunts. "There were dead kobolds on the wizard's porch, no doubt burned by some trick of his. Perhaps they dug their way in, if they're there."
The Ulfen thumps his chest again. "Aye, I'll bear my blade in battle against the foemen, Fafnir's get."
Thorfinn wasn't about to invite a hungover stranger along to meet with the local nobility (that's the sort of thing that gets you into the wrong kind of songs, IYKWIM), but he would have remembered her expertise for later.
The tall Ulfen emerged from his room before the party met with Baroness Devy much cleaner and neater, with a fresh tunic. His hair, still damp from washing up, is arranged in braids with small beads and leather strips. His greatsword is peacebonded, another strip of leather binding it into its sheath. On meeting the baroness, he salutes her, striking his chest with his right fist, before listening to Xylas tell the tale. Pity the halfling had to leave...she would have spun it into a mighty lay, no doubt. "Aye, we spoke with the kobold, and though I'm loathe to credit such a one she said she'd rather take the tribe and leave this place. This Roaghaz wanted them to loot the wizard's home, as well, and she feared that the deed would bring down your wrath on the tribe. "Now that I think on it, she spoke as if something had happened not long ago, that they'd lived peacefully here for generations before a change she did not want to tell us of." He shrugs. "I will leave it to wiser heads to riddle out. Once you do, though, my sword will be ready."
A tall (but not so tall as the elf), muscular young Ulfen man rises in greeting. "Thorfinn Feigrsson am I." The presence of, and comments from, the ranger seem to have made an impression, as he keeps his voice down. His tunic (and he, based on the fresh bloodstains on the fabric) seem to have taken a recent beating.
There was the big heavy plaque, and I don't know whether the metal man parts were worth anything. DM D, Thorfinn is looking for the semiprecious gem amber, fossilized tree resin.
Welcome to the new players! Vanaira, I can't think of many low-level spells that would be particularly useful to Thorfinn...magic weapon, maybe.
Thorfinn washes up, the carefully combs and braids his hair. "Thank you, Talia. Tell me...is there anyone in this town who might have some amber beads?"
Thorfinn sets down his empty bowl with a thunk. "It sounds like he will not be missed overmuch. Let me bathe and wash my hair, and then we can tell our tale to the thane."
I believe the original recruitment thread had HP as roll them, and if you roll less than average take average instead. Is that what you'll use, DM D?
"Aye, I would prefer washing up before meeting with the thane. A red day it was, with no dearth of foes. That last cave-crawler we fought was a deadly archer, and I judge a cunning leader as well. Had I been a whit slower to strike--" He shrugs, then shakes his head. "Not for me to dwell on might-have-beens. She has my respect, is all."
Thorfinn's eyes widen at the sight of the loot. I can afford to go home! But I can't leave now, in the middle of the tale--what skald would tell of it? "And it was then that the brave and mighty son of Feigr abandoned his companions!" No, I will not flee. I shall return to the north a hero, or not at all.
Thorfinn didn't follow all the negotiations, but did catch that there were more kobolds out there who could be killed. Once the former enemies have left, he looks doubtfully at the vial before tossing back the contents. "I suppose we need to bring the wizard's body back with us." And I have a quarrel with that battle-swan....
Thorfinn takes the vial, but doesn't drink it while he recovers from his efforts.
Thorfinn calms down, panting with fatigue. He steps forward to stand over the bow. "They surrendered, Bumolin! Stay your hand!"
Roxy starts an inspiring chant and moves up. Buoyed by her music, Cordia closes with one of the kobolds and stabs at it with her rapier.
Thorfinn laughs through the pain, his rage keeping him going as he chases the kobold around the stone. His blade rises and falls again, bloody in the torchlight.
"BARE IS BROTHERLESS BACK!" The Ulfen rushes toward the archer, but if either of the other kobolds steps out to attack him he'll start with them.
Thorfinn advances a little ways past the others into the wide passage, blade ready.
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