Torak's page

Fortunately, Torak barely speaks common and Kellid, he has no planar knowledge regarding Infernal, so unless you guys are shooting the tines and invoking Asmodeus it's all over his head.

Wary of the tension in the room, Torak "adjusts" his Greatsword to be within easy reach.

Torak eyes the woman with the raven warily. A familiar? It doesn't have the look of a trained pet and...it's looking over here! Torak suddenly become intent on scratching his finger across a dent in the table, his eyes averted.
What sort of people did Lorimmor associate with? The man was courageous or a fool to brave the depths of the Graidmere for a look at the standing stones. But there was talk of demons and devils, pale men with scarves at their neck (NEVER a good sign in Ustalav), and just WHAT was that thing in the mask by the bar?

Torak eats his meal in silence, his hand occasionally straying to an amulet with an antler and spiral motif. So many strange people gathered in one place, and they all know Lorrimor. Some seem as mad as the bog cultists of my homeland, uttering mad cries to the Tapestry in the darkness. Maybe I should have let the crocodile eat the old man after all...

"Lorrimor was a brave man,"Torak's deep voice carries through the tavern. "The letter did not say how he passed, but it was not quietly I would think." He pours out some of his ale on the floor and then quaffs the rest.

"Meat, ale." Torak asks the innkeep in a slow deep voice. The number of patrons in the tavern wasn't an ill omen, but it wasn't a lucky number either. Had the cat been wholly black he would be worried further, but it was a mix of black and white. A crossroads then. He would have to pick his path carefully.

A mountain of a man with Kellid features pauses in the doorway. Outfitted in hide torn from various swampbeasts and dripping from the light rain, he almost looks like some bog creature himself. His overcast eyes survey the patrons of the tavern finally resting on the large cat. Satisfied at the number, he nods to himself and takes a seat at the back, waving the innkeeper over.

Torak the swampfolk barbarian for consideration.

Torak, Superstitious Kellid Barbarian posted.