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Torgar braces himself. He didn't have time to manifest into his druidic forms, but hoped that his own strength would be sufficient. He doubles down on his bets and strikes the monster before him with one punch.
Then realizing the state of affairs before him, Torgar tries to withdraw, making distance between himself and the beast, so he can begin manifesting some weaponry of actual use.
Torgar huffs himself into a crude brawler's stance, and intends to lay the smack down on the beast in front of him. "WHELL, YER UGLIER THAN ME!"
He aims his strike to hit the beastie right underneath its' mouth- or whatever it might consider a mouth. He puts all his newfound weight into it.
Torgar finishes growing as the monster encroaches upon him. He keeps his wits, and his fists, about him.
Startled by the abrupt appearance of the scourge, Torgar sees his foe and intends to meet him. But in this moment he is not yet prepared. He scurries around a corner, trying to gain cover, and begins to manifest the wrath in his blood.
"Well, it's got two legs, whatever it is." Then the booming comes, and Torgar chokes on his tongue.
"Well would ya look at that. They knew we were coming, so they made us a few cottages!" Torgar was delighted that the first semblance of civilization they found was underground. Perhaps this new life was even brighter than he once thought.
"By the beard, if you've got one, laddie." With these words and all of his obstinance, Torgar moves to open the door contraption.
Getting restless, Torgar begins to meditate and become one with the alien forces of nature which reside on this new plane.
Torgar takes the vanguard, not out of cowardice, but just in case of the event that a disgusting bright light should further poison his venture.
Torgar defers to Aam, the self-proclaimed natural, for the next course of action. "So what would our tour guide say about this one?" Pointing to the door contraption. Torgars' field was beasts and scourges, how to scout for and dispatch them, and this was his field exclusively. He could also mystically invoke the forces of nature from time to time, but he always considered that more of a hobby. More of a knack than anything.
"I 'spose it can't hurt..." Torgar looks down at his boots as the rattling cart moves forward, not particularly looking forward to whatever mysteries might unfold ahead. It was as if his new life were a self-induced migraine. But the thought of protecting his daughters' future held him standing staunchly. "So, uh, do any of you gadget-ey types understand how their machinery works yet? If we're dealing in their territory, we'll probably come across something more unwholesome designed by the same mind..." Torgar whispers in a hushed voice, as if the alien imps in their fading peripherals might understand his words. In spite of everything, he was content that he was surrounded by almost full darkness. He lets out a small sigh reminiscent of relief.
"They look... cute. We should be wary of them... like we should be of this machine..."
"Indeed! Let's waltz into the alien steel monster that just tried to crush us! Great logic!" Torgar waddles behind them in a huff. Just when I thought things were gonna get dark and peaceful...
"Well THAT was a lovely trip..." Torgar makes light of the situation, in textbook tough guy form.
Torgar scrambles for whatever he can climb onto, cursing the ideal of conniving invention all the while. The pursuing bright light flusters this attempt further, and he drops his spear amidst the tracks.
Alternatively, this 1 could crush him square in the face.
i responded with a question- i am confused, what is the state of play?
Torgar carries on without fear into the trenches, in a hunter's stalk. On the side of care, he does draw out his trusted dwarven spear.
Torgar proceeds further into the darkness, stopping only for whatever may actually impede him.
"HUMMMMM........"
Trudging into the old corridor, Torgar begins to look beyond what is visible, and begins focus his soul on discerning what lays ahead. "HUMMMMMM....." His meditative huff is almost laughable as he drones forward.
"Finally, something inviting." Torgar yawns as he scurries outside the reach of the dreadful sun.
The ugly one scans the hall, discerning features and temperatures to decide if it's the right time to summon his companion. I dunno how I'll force him back cross that land bridge tho...
Torgar squints his eyes -more than normal underneath this vehement sun- to look at what Aramant is talking about. "Well then! You're right! That's right strange..." He speaks as if he was a master of civil engineering, which he is obviously the farthest thing from. His bewilderment is genuine, however. "I ain't scared of no crows, though. I've eaten cave crows alive before... This can't hold a candle to Orv."
"Feisty lookin' birds. You make anything out of these carvings?" Torgar looks at the more studious figures of the troupe.
Torgar's demeanor is nothing but frigid. The only thing he abhorred more than the surface and their pompous dwarves was heights. Visibly shaking, the once tough guy bumbles over the bridge.
Torgar raises one mangled eyebrow to Dargrin. "I'd rather sleep on this than on that grimey skyship, any day. I'd rather be a surface dweller." He crumbles the alien soil in his hands after giving it a good sniff- the sort of inhale an avid tea-drinker gives a fresh cup of herbs.
Torgar picks up a fist full of dirt, examining the grass and topsoil as the rock djinn asks him of it. "Eh, well, this is some weird dirt, I'll tell you that. It seems to have blood in it. Blood- in GRASS! HAH! As long as it's not poisonous or venereal I think your pony should do just fine, mate." He examines the tuft of grass and soil further, with an almost manic artists' eyes. To Tordin: Torgar waves him off as he begins walking towards the mountain. "We'll do fine, lassie, just keep the wheels greased..." All the while, Torgar's face just seems to get uglier and uglier as time passes by.
It's like it's own ecosystem lives on it, and it's reached its' own mini-industrial age, excavating any trace of normality on him. Ugliest dark dwarf you ever seen.
In spite of the deathly light all round him, Torgar was wide eyed and in a childlike awe. The scenery of this new planet was so mysterious. For the first time in his venture outside his dirt hole, he was thankful- even considering himself fortunate. "Would y'look at THAT!"
The reprehensible one doesn't actually notice the difference as the ship touches the ground.
Torgar takes his little statue, his spear, and his musty self, and packs into the wicked ship. He is silent, trusting the might of the contraption for not a second.
Out of respect for his daughter Torgar bites his tongue as the pomp mage trifles with his tunnel companion so casually. He huffs, but says no words to Harzadoum as he hastily retrieves his stone lizard from the artificial floor. As the conversation between associates bubbles, the arms-crossed Torgar grumbles to the rock-fae:
If you thought he was repulsive when he was grouchy, you soon experience a knee-jerk reaction of insight as the deep dwarf begins to grin at his own bad joke... He's far more palatable when miserable.
They finally get away from that blasted sun, and what do they do? GO and make a fake one! Just to blister me... Whatever. Hopefully this sun'll be far-er off than the old one. Waddling through the halls with Bogey in tow, he pauses.
The musty deep one sniffles. Due to the unforgivable nature of his face, only those in close contact with him would be able to discern that Torgar was feeling exquisitely under the weather. "Aright, aright. Let's get off this wretched contraption. Anyone have a spot of ale on 'em?" With a gruff facade veiling his intents, the hunter scans the room, discerning with deftness his new associates, eyes 'ashifting.
Will attend to both fires immediately, thanks
Torgar the Grotesque
I am extremely excited for all of us. I look forward to our interactions and adventures. Good brews sirs and ladies.
Alas, I am complete. Gaze upon my imperfections and weigh my soul against whatever ancient standards ye may.
ok, awesome. thanks again! My Crunch is finished, the fluff is in tow. I have a pearl of power CL 2, so I'm going to switch around my default prepped spell loadout to be more versatile.
For my attuned weapon slot, could I have an attuned amulet of mighty fists? Anything else will be functionally superfluous for me level 6 onwards.
Is it cool if I answer these questions in one cohesive backstory narrative? I can do either format you want. I'll work on crunch and honing in on his setting-specific details in the meanwhile.
I have not yet calculated in the 4th level bump. That may be the variable at hand.
GM, are duergar characters 'dwarf enough' for your liking? In my own estimation I consider them to be different ethnicities of the same lineage, but your interpretations of that trope may differ vastly from mine. The implications being that I really want to be in this campaign and also help set the premise you envision.
Thanks for the clarification. Does that other guy not being able to have an animal mean that I cannot have an animal companion as part of my class features? I am continually updating my person on my profile, if you have time and want to read stream of consciousness character building then it's there, its purpose is just for me to reference later for the finalized submission post. I'm having a lot of fun with it already, and am looking forward to this campaign.
I'm being fleshed out over the course of the next day or so, should be complete all in all by tomorrow night. My player is a roleplayer before a wargamer on all fronts. (Wargaming is fun tho.) I have some logistical questions; How does druidic magic function on an alien planet? Where are the animals I am calling coming from? I am a Saurian Shaman, if these tyrant beasts are called in a manner more physical than, say, a portal, where would I cull them from? (That being said, I actually don't plan on summoning beasts all that much. Tooooo much bookkeeping for both you and me.) I am Torgar the Grotesque, and I have a Charisma score of 3. Bite me. |
