Well it's sad to hear, but real life must take precedence, I know the pain!
It's been a pleasure, and I'll continue to traipse around the boards if we find ourselves in a position to adventure again!
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Maybe not reputable, but one who is right more often than not, less say. Tordek says, playing with the beads in his beard.
Well lads, we can do that, if any of 'em are doin' readin's at this hour. Or we could find ourselves a nice little apothecary or distillery or summat. Gotta get us a few handles of that good burnin' rum fer our future shippies, yeh? Tordek says as he catches pace with the others, resecuring his weapons about his person, breathing in the salty seaport air.
The lovely lass what runs the joint said I could get me a tipple on the house. You ever know a dwarf ta turn down a free drink laddie? Not bleedin' likely I'd say. Now that my beak's wetted, I've got no real reason to stay, 'cept you and yours here asking questions. Seemed rude to up and leave. Tordek says as he makes his way over to the guardsman.
I got in this mornin', on foot. Never seen a slitheryman like those'uns before, nosirree. Tordek says as he toddles over to the guard.
Feeling his cups a bit, Tordek reels back on the stool. Mebbe, just mebbe, them snake fellows are a METAPHOR fer the evils of gamblin'. It coils 'round ya like a snake! HAH! He says, voice slightly slurred.
Tordek continues to nurse his drink, content with the burning course it charts down his throat.
A drink is always the right answer lass! Tordek calls gruffly, as he dusts his pants off. Ye have anything sugarcane based? Preferably with some spice to it? He asks the barman when he plops himself onto a stool, brushing his tangled hair from his face.
Tordek picks himself up from the ground as his wolf fades from existence. Aye, one of those slithery lot knocked me square on my kiester. Since no one was jumping to take care 'o the likesa me, I rescued myself a bit there. Lovely fog you've introduced here. Thematic to the port life, eh? he says, as he rubs his tailbone, keeping his eyes open for new threats.
Tordek uses the floor to roll about, avoiding the grasping claws of the serpent. Cursing, he sends another icy arrow at his foe and leaves the wolf to attack the creature once more. They don't seem much for the thinking, do they? Tordek hollers up from the mist.
Damn bloody snake. Chill out! Tordek says as he points his finger at the creature, lobbing a bolt of ice at him.
against a DC of 12 (10 + 2nd level spell) Landing flat on his butt, the stalwart dwarf continues his methodical spellcasting hardly phased by the fall. When the wolf appears, he points toward the snake dragging the man away, Hopi g the wolf recognizes the enemy. He then surveys the ground around him for threats immediately next to him.
At the hiss of the snake-like enemy, Tordek quickly rattles off a spell. In a swirl of mist and figment leaves, a wolf blinks into existence next to the dwarf. With a point of his hand toward the hissing sound, Tordek hopes that the wolf will recognize the hissing as an opponent and attack. Wolf Stats (Updated from Augment Summoning already):
Wolf N Medium animal Init +2; Senses low-light vision, scent; Perception +8 DEFENSE
OFFENSE
STATISTICS
Tordek's eyes flit over the revealed scene. They settle on the trails, he racks his mind, trying to figure out what could have made that type of trail and what the muck actually is.
Tordek moves cautiously through the fog, sweeping his feet in front of him, never breaking contact with the floor. The words of a spell sit heavy on his lips, unvoiced.
Tordek stands up on his toes, looking over the fog that swirls around his beard. Look fast all! Pirates under the mist! There! he yells, trying to point to where he saw the man sink below the mists.
I do not envy you AT ALL. I thank whatever watches over me every day that I have no direct reports.
Tordek smiles as the mist rolls in. Pulling out a copper piece, he quickly casts light on it, keeping it clenched in his hand, preventing the light from escaping. A quick hand flick, and the copper piece is cast across the room, behind Tordek, causing a hazy glowing light in the fog.
Not a bit. Though I've managed to stay even on the night, so that's better than outright loss, I suppose. Tordek says gruffly as he counts the chips in his fingers.
Makes sense to me.
Tordek nods at his companions and breaks off, heading for the card games, looking to find a game against the house.
Tordek hands over his sickle and daggers without question. Any chance of a haggard dwarf keeping his walking stick lads? he asks with a quirk of his lip.
Tordek lets the chips click around in his hand as he looks around the hall, trying to spot a game he could try a bit of luck at.
Tordek looks to the burly guards and back at the assembled motley he's now a part of. Leaning over to Tipene he says, as quietly as he can muster So, what's the likelihood we come out with any more coin than we're going in with, eh? Need some scratch for a bit of rum, right? With that, the gruff dwarf waits for a signal from the members of the entourage more familiar with the town to lead the way. Bloody cities, teeming with filth and fetid air. It'll be nice to be on the waves again soon. Hopefully in the early AM, provided we can find some rum. He thinks to himself as he starts casting his eyes around to make sure they aren't still under observation.
Tordek smiles as the larger man goes off toward the ship. Off he strides, eager to be shot of the land and out on the waves once more. Certain blood, it just cries for the waves.
Turtle's Wake, eh? Does sound a might slow, but if they be taking privateers, I could see myself on a cruise in her. I'd rather a ship of purpose than only being along for a ride, personally. Tordek says, somewhat gruffly.
Quillin or Tipene, you've been here a touch. Know of any good sailor dives down here? A friendly coin and an appetite for ale can earn a few tips on ships that may have open berths. Or soon to be open, if sailors are offered enough rum to delay their return. Tordek says as he looks around the docks. Barrin' that, lets just grab us a runner, see if they know of anyone looking for a influx of trained hands.
Tordek would prefer being on the waves. I don't care one way or the other. It likely makes sense to find the gambling house, see if we can't cash out some chips. Possibly even see if some lost in his cups schmoe is willing to put his ship on the line for a bet (only 80% joking about that bit). Also, gambling houses are usually good hives of scum and villainy that could be profitable for individuals of our unique talents.
Aye. A ship'd be better than the land. Unfortunately, my knowledge about this particular port is a little thin. The rest of you have any thoughts on the matter? Tordek says as he licks his lips in between bites of savory fish.
Hah. In a former life, days long past, rat was about the only food I was able to scrounge aboard ship after the doldrums took us. Not the best eating, I'll agree with you there. But compared to wasting away, a juicy, spitted rat seems palatial. he says with a snort. Plus, with a bit of finger wagglin', purifying it isn't too hard.
Well, I wouldn't say no to a bit of roasted rat or a plate of peppered fish, especially not on my coin. Tordek says with a chuckle. I'd check for magic m'self, but I'm afraid it's not quiet my ken, ya catch my drift? Still unsettled, he lets his eyes drift over the folks wandering the streets.
Tordek shudders slightly at the implications of the transaction that just occurred Not quite my style, but nothing abjectly against Gozreh's desires. his mind still uneasy at the thought of being followed. As soon as they get out front, he taps Tipene on the shoulder. We were definitely being followed on the way here. Not sure by who or what, but definitely by something. We should certainly try to stay a little active on the lookout while we parade around. I figger you should keep eyes out, look imposing and such. he says quietly to the larger man before looking around furtively.
Tordek watches, fidgety with unease, as Quillin concludes his transaction with the tobacco chewing man. His driftwood stick creaks in his hands as he clenches it. His eyes dart hither and yon, seemingly lighting upon everything and nothing. Every whisper, every clink, every breath seems to push his nerves further. Blast it, being watched. Hate being watched. Hate it worse when I can't figger where the eyes are. I'd put one of Gozreh's own ice pricks into the eyes if I could suss them out. he thinks, attempting to will his mind to calmness. When that fails, he seizes upon one of the pearls in a belt pouch, keeping his fingers clasped around it in the pouch while he silently prays to Gozreh. Gozreh, caller of waves, tempest of the seas. Grant to me the stillness of a doldrumic sea. My minds seeks the level like water in the glass or the glass-still water of a sea unbothered by he who is the wind. The prayer calms him slightly, and the fidgeting fades to nearly nothing by the time the chit is handed over.
Tordek follows along behind the leaders of the group, nose twitching for some reason as Lysandra schmoozes the rumseller for information. His hand grips tighter around the gnarled wooden staff as he casts his eyes around, his ears listening to whatever blips of sound rise out of the din and bustle of people. Without a specific concern he holds his tongue, until something specific catches his eye or ear.
Underside, Overside, doesn't matter overmuch to me. In any event, don't know the dead man. Any distance we put between ourselves and that tavern though, would be as wise as the post-rain bird come to feed. Tordek says, smiling at his attempt at druidic humor.
At being called an old man, Tordek breaks into a loud guffaw. An old man, maybe, but not so old for a dwarf lad! Even still, to have a bladesman near to hand would be useful, I'd gather. After shaking his head and chuckling to himself a little longer he looks at Red Tom once again, By the way, the name's Tordek, not old man. He winks quickly through his shaggy mop of hair, a smile making his beard pluck up.
I'm good to just let them stumble upon the situation. Tordek says as he walks back to his seat to scoop up his battered backpack.
Tordek watches as the man's chest ceases to rise. Closing his eyes in silent prayer, he removes one of the small shells from his beard and lays it on the man's forehead. From the sea you rose, back to the sea your soul flows. He says quietly, before standing to face the rest of the assemblage. M'name's Tordek, just Dek to my shippies. Not sure about you lot, but I'm itching to be back out on the waves doing summat useful, neh? If yer looking for a boat or even just some companions that are eventually going to be seaward-bound, I'd not be adverse to throwing in with you lot. Easier for a collection to get aboard a crew than a single in my experience. He holds a gruff hand out to Tipene.
Don't fully know. Like as much some kind of nefarious magic,maybe poison. It's beyond my ken to cure, regardless. If he's alive in 24 hours, I can possibly identify the poison, but from the looks of it, he won't make it that long. Tordek casts an eye through his shaggy mane at Tipene. He gave you a key? Looking between Tipene and Quillin he nods his head, Leaving at this point would likely be suspicious, iffin you were to run into anyone. Either way, he's beyond my savin'. Either we do what we can to make him comfortable or end his suffering here. Wind and Waves will claim him in the end anyway. Do what you will, I'll see what I can do for him. He says, with the grim finality of one who's seen the life slip out of the eyes of people before.
Seeing the bleeding man lurch into the tavern, Tordek draws one last pull from his mug of ale. Getting up with a grunt, he walks over to the man and turns his eye to the man's throat, looking to provide whatever first aid he's able to given the materials floating around the bar. As the man gasps for breath, the dwarf grimaces and tries to pry his mouth open, looking for something blocking his airway. You there, tattooed fellow. The man slipped you summat. What was it? It may have something to do with his current state. As Tordek finishes speaking, he turns his eyes back to the dying man, and pulls a ragged twig of wood out of his belt.
A wild-haired dwarf sits off at a table against a wall. Seaweed and shells run through his auburn beard and little driftwood togs are knotted in the ends of his unruly mane. Bedecked in what appears to be woven vegetation, he draws deeply from a mug of ale, the pale drink leaving a breaker of foam upon his lip. He snorts at the discussion of the animals and their fecal routines. Gozreh bless it all. Animals sh1ttin' here and there. Waves love a sea dog, irreverent always. he whispers to himself, half into his cup.
Tordek wanders through the bustling throngs of Freeport, looking about, searching for anything that could help him find a crew. Finally, his eyes lit upon a swinging plank for a tavern that seemed the right mix of seed and salt to sate a sailor's nerves sometime in the late morning. With a nod to himself, he walks through the door and into the lightly filled establishment. His eyes roam over the crowd, surveilling the room. A collection of gnomes and halflings in one corner sit throwing dice over a meager pile of copper. A barmaid running between rough plank tables, her skirt edge damp with the froth of uncounted sloshed ales. A Varisian fellow entrenched in a corner, with a veritable cloud of anger darkening his features. With a shrug, Tordek walks up to the scarred bar and places 2 silver coins on the rough wood. A cask of whatever that'll buy me, keeper. And a mug, if ya could. he says gruffly. When he gets his drink, he will retire to whatever seat lets him put a wall to his back.
Stepping out of the sleeping cabins below, Tordek looked at the steely green clouds and knew that Gozreh was displeased. Cap'n had us doing duty all night, haven't had enough time to do much of damn anything to help with this squall. Seems like it's time for me to depart this ship's company before too much else comes down on me. he thinks to himself as he hurries back below decks. The other sailors aboard the small craft are scrambling about, desperate to find a way to manage the storm. They step out of his way when the rugged dwarf stomps through the quarters, making his way to his hammock. Pulling the woven hemp net off its hooks, he gathers up the few possessions he has stowed in his little footlocker and crams it into the waterproofed leather backpack lying at the bottom of the chest. A bag of jewels and coins is strapped to his belt. Moving to his locker bolted to the back wall, he undoes the lock and pulls out what he considers his most prized piece of equipment. A delicate looking smock of large tropical leaves. He smiles as he pulls it on over his head, securing the fibrous straps around his torso, his body protected as well as those boarders wearing their studded leather armor. As he goes to walk out of the spaces, a wiry gnome yells at his back. 'Dek! Where the devil do you think you're going? This is the doing of YOUR god, you make him do what you want NOW! Stop this damnable storm! Ah yes, dear Gunner Skipjack. I will just sally up to Gozreh's blessed skirts and demand that she belay her will. Can't even recognize that this is HER doing, not HIS. A pox on you Skipjack. Yer a lousy sailor and an even lousier gunner. Th'only reason you manage to hit the other ships is because we were tethered to 'em. Gozreh, she not be listening to a mortal to stop a rager like this. Best chance is to cast your bets with the waves and send your own prayers to her ears. Pah! He yells as he snatches a quarterstaff from the armory rack on the bulkhead by the ladder topside. Stalking up the narrow steps, he looks out over the rail and sees a sliver of land off in the distance. As he prepares to jump, a crack of lightning slams into the crow's nest, splintering the mast and splitting the ship in two. With a leap, he throws himself into the roiling sea, his mind sending prayers to Gozreh's ears. It took Tordek nearly two days of swimming and floating to get here. He'd make landfall today, with any luck. After reaching shore, Tordek takes a look left, and a look right. Not seeing any appreciable reason to go either direction, he turns left, quipping in his head any port in a storm, eh 'Deky? A few days later, he found himself standing at the edge of the bustling hive that is Freeport. Steeling his nerves after his morning meditation, he heads into the crowds, ready to find a new ship or new shipmates at the very least.
Thanks for the pick!
Good deal. I will go ahead and acquire him some gear then. :)
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