Tin nods. "I am with you, Artimus. It is disgusting to me that these gnomes would prey on their guests."
Search Posts
Tin draws close to Durnast to whisper through his helmet "Be at peace, Durnast. All will be as it should in time. We bring no harm with patience." The elf is troubled as well, but it's much harder to read a person covered in steel. Tin will accompany the group to the inside of the sod house. He sits, wrinkling his nose a bit at the pleasant smell. The idea of Bard's Gate opening an embassy in this godsforsaken place was either a blessing of civilization or a curse of further degradation. With a silent prayer, Tin hoped it was the former. The ambassador was amicable enough, but smiles could hide daggers. Daggers that dripped with blood, and gleamed in the night. The elf shook his head free of the thoughts that crept in. He dared not speak, leaving the socializing to his companions, as usual.
Tin will refrain from using his channeling attempt, all these facts being the case. He is quietly watching as the group still searches for information concerning the lost party members. He isn't much of a conversationalist, and isn't much of a detective, so he looks for any other way to contribute to the situation.
Tin furrows his brow as Artimus explains the strange presence and the companions discuss options. Tin finds it disheartening that the company is ready to move away from the death of those who accompanied them only a day before. "I don't agree with leaving our friends, or even their remains, behind here. Something has most definitely gone awry and I feel we should get to the bottom of it. If it were any of you, I would feel the same, and I hope you would do the same for me!" With that, Tin claps his hands together and channels the power of the sun to burst out from his center. He'd be standing right at the site where the registry once was.
Tin follows Artimus as he explores the area for the group's missing members. His sense of worry and trepidation grows as the situation becomes awkward with the gnomes. "That's strange, Artimus. I would swear this is where the pair went last night. Perhaps there is an error..? Sir, could you check your registry once more?"
Tinthariel pulls the body a little further from the lip of the well, then sets to examining it. "The body is a few hours dead. It's obvious he was taken by surprise, jumped from behind by something vicious that was capable of ripping out a kidney, slashing his throat, then biting his face off. The attacker was man-size and had strong claws, it would seem." Tin tosses the money pouch to the party. "We should take out of that to see to the man's burial. Gurg, if you wish to count us enemies once more, I would only point your attention to the fact that you stand and breathe. Large and mighty as you are, it was the larger and mightier powers of Good that first brought you low, then that of Arden brought you back to a conscious state. Please stop pushing violence into every answer or scenario. It isn't always necessary. Look where it got this man: dead and thrown into a well." There's no diplomacy there, just an empty look from behind a steel helmet as Tin tires of the barbarian's violent nature.
Tin opts to follow Gurg for answers. When they come across the body on the well, Tin will rush to the (possible) corpse and immediately hit it with a Stabilize spell. Afterwards, he looks it over, drawing on his knowledge of medicine to ascertain the body's current status and, if necessary, cause of death.
Tin remains on his hands and knees, out of breath and dripping sweat from his face to the dust beneath him. "I'm not sure what that was, but it looks terrible! What are we- what can we do against that!"
Tinthariel finds a spot nearby (within shouting distance of the party, if none are accompanying) and rigs a way to hang a prism so that it will catch the light of the rising sun and splay the beauty of the sun for any to see. He knows the shrine will not last long, not in such an environment of poverty. But even if its accouterments are sold to feed a hungry mouth it will be pleasing to Arden. Tin begins the Divination ritual, his helmet off so his head is bathed in the light of the sun. He looks up and asks, "Burning light that dispels the darkness, I ask that you bless me with the answer to the question that I ask: What is the nature of this beast that comes from the east to lay claim to the desert; whose jaw is mighty, whose claws are sharp, who makes certain death of they who mock the fearsome shock of standing in his breath?"
Tin waits patiently, keeping watch, feeling the uncomfortable heat start to mount inside his armor. The feeling of discomfort is nothing compared to the alternative. He could feel everything around him. The grass growing, the dogs stinking, the people breathing. It made his skin crawl. He needed his layer, his buffer against the outside. The sun began to rise, the bruise of a sky here turning a rose that made Tin smile. He knelt and prayed for the day's blessings. He prayed for protections and cures, prayed for safety and clarity. He nodded a greeting to Gurg and didn't reply to the giant's comment or question. The morning would indeed see violence. He waited for Artimus and Alia to wake on their own. The sun would do that work for him, and do it much more gently than he could. Once the group got breakfast, Tin asked, "Arden will allow me to ask him a question today. This is a potent blessing, not to be squandered, so I ask for your advice. What question should we pose? I propose something on the safety of our journey, or what we can expect once we get to Tsar. I do not think we know enough of this place or the trials ahead. Please offer your input."
Tin will use his own bedroll. He'll try to get out of the way of the others so he can take his armor off and be by himself.
"If possible, I'd like to take last watch so I'll be awake for the sunrise. It's the best time for me to commune with Arden. Artimus, what will our plan be for tomorrow? I ask just so I know what to beg of the Sun to prepare. Gurg, if we can trust you to not attack us again, I can heal you further and make sure your rest tonight is less pain-riddled..." Tin hefts over the barrel that the giant indicated.
Tin listens quietly as the conversation gets midway. He decides to add his thoughts. "The miracles were not mine, but were through the power of Arden, the Sun. It is He that sends me to the ruins of Tsar, and it is He that healed your own wounds as well. I'm sorry that your mind was so affected by whatever it was that caused you to attack us. I will pray for your further health."
Tin's look of pity is masked by the heavy helmet in place. He doesn't extend a hand, but still bows to the giant. "Good to meet you, Gurg. Well, good to be introduced to you without having my ribs ground to dust, at any rate. We'll come with you." He turns to Alia. "I believe Durnast mentioned something about a mental link with us. I don't know much about him, we just met a day or two ago. Maybe his dragon can pass the information." Tin hefts the club onto his shoulder and slowly follows the giant's lead.
Tin uses his ability to heal the fallen on the giant (As indicated above) then inquires on the giant's story, from a safe distance of 15 feet away. He readies an action to cast Searing Light on the giant if it looks like it's about to go back on the offensive. I also want to make sure that the club is nowhere around the giant.
"Prepare yourselves, friends. Arden's light will be upon you." Tin kneels and prays softly, the words becoming a susurrus inside of his helmet. Flashes of bright light burst from his center, four times in a row. As the light washes over creatures, they feel their wounds heal and a general sense of warmth and peace. The giant is unaffected by the light, however. "I can bring the giant back to consciousness when we're ready without bringing him to fighting strength. Just say the word, friends."
Seeing the giant stable but unconscious, Tinthariel gives a sigh of relief as the adrenaline that comes with danger wears off. He replaces his helmet then speaks to Artimus. "We should ask the blacksmith for shackles of some kind, then find a cart and a place to keep this mad soul until he regains consciousness. Was anyone else hurt? I still have strength left to mend wounds, if necessary. If we need to speak to the giant, I can heal him further after he's prevented from causing more damage."
Tin's breathing is heavy as he pulls off his helmet to get more air. The stink of the place starts rolling into his nostrils, but it won't last long. The helm's coming back on as soon as he catches his breath. Chyressa's outburst nets her a glare and a sigh, but nothing more. Tin steps closer to the giant and touches his massive chest. He whispers, "All is well. Come on, enough bleeding for now."
Tinthariel edges closer to Chyressa, but still not close enough to reach out and heal her. "Closer, madam! Careful!" He extends his healing power to Jylan for now, hoping to keep the warrior alive long enough to bring this brute down.
Tinthariel spins, trying to knock the cobwebs loose in his skull. His breath is a shudder and he barely clings to consciousness . He concentrates on staying away from the giant's club and healing himself.
Tin grits his teeth, his frustration mounting. The giant was resisting the magic. Some gift. The elf moves closer to the wounded Jylan while trying to stay out of the giant's reach. A gauntleted hand touches Jylan and he whispers a prayer of healing to mend the wound just taken. "Don't fret, I am here to heal you. This beast must be stopped quickly before he moves his attention to other, less hardier folk."
Tin flinches as Alia materializes next to him. "Oh, I was just-" The explosion of the giant into the square causes Tinthariel to start once again. The creature looked mad with anger and set on violence. The urge to run welled up like a boiling kettle but Tin fought it. He focused on the creature, on stopping it before it hurt others or got itself killed. Loudly, he spoke, his voice echoing out from his helmet, "BE STILL! In Arden's name, stop!" ((@N23, near Alia; casting Hold Person on the giant, DC 16 to resist, getting my shield in hand as well.))
For the second time this week Tin stands a few hundred feet from the gallows, watching the crows peck at the hanged man. Again he wishes he had the strength of will to go cut the man down and give him a proper burial, but that would be drawing attention to himself. The attention that he garners walking around the camp in full plate armor with a shield strapped to his back is too much as it is, but Tin prefers the buffer between him and the outside world, so thoughts of shedding the heavy suit are few and far between. The Church of Orcus is avoided, no matter how amicable the hobgoblin may be who oversees the facility. Dreams of skulls and the walking dead haunt Tinthariel's dreams and he has no wish to feature them into his waking moments. With a sigh and a quiet prayer, Tin turns to slowly walk back through Camp, no destination in mind, just thoughts of when the group would be ready to go. The priest is anxious to go but apprehensive of the dangers that lie ahead.
Tin starts as the woman makes her way into the conversation. He absentmindedly reaches out to his visored helmet and pulls it a bit closer. As she voices her request to join the small party, Tin waits silently for Artimus or Dvight to make the decision. Continuing the dialog on the giantess, he speaks, "It would still be my mission to preserve this creature's life if at all possible. If she left us no choice and if I was thoroughly convinced of her irredeemable state of mind, only then would I accept that her death is necessary for the greater good."
"I can heal you if you prove unable to get out of the way of the giant's rocks and, yes, I can protect us as well. Combat is not anything I excel at, excepting where the forces of the Undead are concerned. The power of the sun is a great weapon to wield against such foes." The words were an echo of what the old scholar in Bard's Gate had told him. Truth be known, Tin had never seen the undead. He hoped his courage would hold if he were to ever encounter one.
Tin starts warming to the game, and gingerly advances into the conversation. "If a giant's mother was throwing rocks from across a ravine that we couldn't cross, I would have to suggest that we simply go away and let the poor creature deal with her pain. I'd not want to kill her son in the first place, I should add. All creatures have a right to life, and that life should be preserved if at all possible."
Tin stays meek and quiet as the conflict erupts around him. He seems troubled and poised to put distance between himself and the others should the argument turn much more severe. As things calm, he hears Artimus speak, and he plasters a smile back onto his face as if he didn't just see the contention. The smile falters as Artimus asks for Tin's 'story', but remains. "I have had dreams of the place, and I feel a great motivation, one that is strange since I have never heard of this place before. Arden is a deity thought long-dead, but still he or an agent representing his divinity has gifted me with the power to heal others, and this quest is to further those powers so that I might heal many others in my community." He stops smiling and rubs his hand along his bald head, firmly rubbing the flesh with a gauntleted hand that contradicts any grace one might normally attribute to an elf. "To be honest, I don't know much about the tenets of my faith either. I hope to educate myself as we go."
During camp hours, Tin still wears his thick, steel armor but removes the helm that usually hides his features. His scalp is shaven to the flesh, with the only hair visible being stark white eyebrows over disconcerting eyes. His mouth purses at the invitation, on the verge of an awkward refusal, but he sits and listens. His voice is deep and resonant when he speaks, "I'm not one for the adventuring lifestyle, myself. I think I just have something I need to do in those ruins. I don't know what." He looks up with a feeble, but winning, smile. "Still, I'm glad to have you all along. Thank you."
When the stories go round, Tin listens intently, with a strange focus on the telling. At times, he'll wander off in the middle of a tale, muttering to himself as he seeks solitude.
Favored Soul would be closer to the mark, as you say, and the last thing Tin wants to do is proselytize. The affliction is an unwelcome stigmata and he resents the power given to him just as he welcomes the warmth it brings his soul and the respite it grants him from the sickness. As a side note to the DM, I know Tin's background says he's looking for a cure, but my feelings won't get hurt if you decide to ignore that completely. I just like to give DMs hooks when I can.
Spoiler: I'll add the point to Intelligence. He's not supposed to have a weapon. He's kind of squeamish when it comes to violence, and generally doesn't believe in it. The idea of swinging around any kind of weapon is horrifying to Tin, and the staff is just mainly a holy symbol that he picked up. The knowledge that he isn't a fighter of any sort may have motivated him to link up with other, more martially-minded individuals. The favored class bonus would go to hit points rather than skills. Thanks!
Tin doesn't have much religious education since he wasn't actually put through any sort of priesthood. He's been chosen and gifted with abilities and knowledge for a specific purpose, so he wouldn't have as strong of a religious education background as one who actually went through that kind of training process.
Character's good to go for now. I just need traits. Thanks for having me and I look forward to a fun game. |