Search Posts
Still shaking his head, Torsten turns toward the manor house. I deem you correct, Aerys. I doubt there is anything or anyone living there, but it would be the work of only a few moments to be sure. Time well spent, in my opinion. Torsten begins to stride toward the manor house ruin, his sword held openly in his right hand.
I'm...fine. Just an...odd feeling, is all. If I didn't know better, I'd guess something doesn't want me here. But I AM HERE! AND I AM STAYING! With these last words, Torsten raises his voice and is yelling in the direction of the prison. ...it will pass, just give me a minute (literally).
Torsten snares Venedictos easily enough, gently pulling the man around to face the prison - and his fears. Oh, no you don't, Skald. You have the ear of your goddess, and I have this... He draws his greatsword, it's massive blade barely visible in the soft morning light. What can stop us, if we work together? Though I must concede, this place is maddeningly unnerving. Tors moves up to the gates, pushing them aside. I am no jailor, but welcome to prison. Torsten's smile is sincere, if forced.
Let's go rock Harrowstone! I can't wait.
My... lack of discipline does not endear me to bows. I would be just as likely to shoot one of you as I would the target. My brother Frømund always had the advantage with a bow. I will take one of those potions, though. When I begin The Anger, I am not always easy to heal.
Sadly, Torsten does not believe in bows. If he has to make a ranged attack, he'll probably just grab some nearby object and throw it really hard.
Torsten completes Step C: +4 skill ranks, +1 skill rank (human); +1 rank to Intimidate (from +9 to +10)
*Adjusted for AC Penalty
And hopefully we will come across members of this Whispering Way somewhere in these ruins. I doubt they would fare better against your sword than the vermin in the crypt did." At this, a low, almost feral growl emenates from the barbarian. They would not. They would not, at that.
Thank you for your diligent research, and for your compliments on my humble stew. I know very little of cooking, so I am glad it is even edible, let alone tasty. I suppose I've learned a few things from Kendra these last few days. Torsten stirs his gruel around aimlessly. Kendra has been mostly silent all day - I find I can hardly blame her for it. Are we visiting Harrowstone tomorrow, then? I find I both want to go there and I desperately want to avoid the place. I am worried that the might in arms taught by my elders will not avail me well in such a place. Still, I will go.
You know my thoughts on taking your time. Don't worry about it. You're correct in your synopsis of Torstens actions, also.
Torsten eyes the trap warily. I have seen those used, and to good effect. They are deadly when they function. But I didn't mean the trap, I meant that thing on your eye. Regardless, it's clearly helping you with the trap, so that gives me the answer I need. The northerner turns to the group. I have...changed my mind about visiting the Pharasmans this morning. I fear that if I did so, my anger would get the better of me. However, I do plan to go into town today, to see if there is anything I can learn through inquiry, lousy at it though I am. Anyone who wishes to is welcome to join me, but I see that you seem to be making some progress with the tomes, so I will understand if I go alone. For now, though, I will prepare what breakfast I can. I am not Kendra. He stalks off into the kitchen.
Torsten returns Valerya's smile sincerely, but the look is quickly swept away by one of curiosity. What in the nine hells is that gadget? I've never seen the like of it before! It looks as though it would explode into about thirty pieces if I looked at it incorrectly.
A soft "click" can be heard from upstairs as Torsten softly closes Kendra's door. The sound of the man-mountain coming downstairs is slightly less quiet. Good morn. I apologize for my gruffness last night. I am sickened and angered by what happened here, as I know you all are. I sought only to lessen Kendra's suffering, and did not mean to be as short as I was. Can you forgive me? He sniffs the air. ...and what is that smell? It's very pleasant.
This is kind of an odd situation. Would we actually bury him on the manor grounds? I would. But then, that's up to you guys.
Sorry for Torstens bossiness. He's pretty passed off about this whole thing. I assure you that I as a player am courteous and well-mannered. ;-)
Torsten looks horrified. You will do as you see best, but I refuse to be a part of such matters. I do hope that your efforts are successful, though. If you find a name... The barbarian continues to calm Kendra, smoothing her hair and shielding her from the gruesome sight in the entryway. Shhh, shhh. Come now. This act will be avenged, I swear on the name of my father and his father before him. Come now, to bed. I will bring a cup of te shortly, and will watch over you as you sleep. Come. He lifts Kendra into his arms, carrying her to her bedroom. He leaves only long enough to prepare a cup of hot tea, and returns with it, spending the rest of the night seated on the floor of Kendra's room, drowsing in and out of sleep.
Gesturing at Petros' remains, Torsten nearly growls: Will someone see to this before morning? I aim to visit the Pharasmites at dawn and explain to them that I do not wish to see Petros again. They will comply, or wish that they had. Without waiting for a reply, the man stalks upstairs.
Far be it from me to put forth an opinion that might inhibit the usefulness of our cleric, but I agree with Zyren on the Channel Energy bit. Playing a Life oracle in another game, I have found it to be very challenging (in a good way) to manage my resources and decide what I want to do and when. Just my $.02
Seeing that his newfound family has things well in order, Torsten concentrates on pulling Kendra away from the grisly scene.
Just saying, this recent development moves Torsten into the camp of "Go find and kill every last member of the Whispering Way". DIRE STUFF!!
Torsten grabs Kendra, pulling her firmly away from the door, suddenly and painfully aware of what he's going to see...
Torsten pauses only long enough to grab his blade before sprinting downstairs. His heart hammering with adreneline, he is barely able to contain his emotions.
Torsten nods emphatically. Yes, you need rest. Come, I will help you upstairs, and clean up the dishes also. Let's go, no protesting. Torsten helps Kendra to the top of the stairs, bids her goodnight, and returns downstairs to clean up after dinner while the others research.
Seeing the others engrossed in their research, Torsten smiles. Maybe we'll put off watching the monument for now. You fine academics can continue to seek answers where answers are most often found, and we'll follow the monument lead another night. After all, unless "her" name is "Vi", I'm sure there will be more letters after the next, as well.
Torsten falls to with vigor, hardly saying a word until his plate is mostly clean. This is delicious. I must confess, I've not had two good home-cooked meals in a row since leaving the icy north several years ago. So what have we learned? The only thing that I am nearly certain of is that the criminal called the "Splatter Man" is a restless spirit, and is residing in Harrowstone prison. It is this spirit, I would guess, that is responsible for the defacing of the monument last night. Do any of you think it wise... He wolfs down a mouthful of roasted pork. ...to position a watch upon the monument tonight from a distance? That way we might observe any further activity, should any occur. The rhyme Venedictos learned from the younglings said "Splatters spell her name just right". Unless "her" name is "V", I suspect something else will happen, and soon, if not tonight. What do you think?
Hrmph, Torsten says, looking for all the world like a bull in a Tien crockery shoppe. Ought I to play Librarian, or Cook? Sooner or later, something is going to need hit very hard with a large sword. And on THAT day, I tell you... He disappears into the kitchen, mumbling to himself. Kendra and Venedictos: Torsten wades into the kitchen and walks up to Kendra. He touches her hand, gently, and requests the knife. Please, Kendra, chopping things is one of my more finely honed skills. If I may?
He sighs. Sorry. It's...been a stressful day. I am much more used to facing that which I fear on open ground, face to face. The world of spirits and shades is something I don't understand, and frankly, something which I fear. He hands the knife over to Kendra. I am sorry, Kendra. Tell me how best to help, I will do what I may.
Wait, what did Kendra say the one criminal's name was? The Splatter Man? Is that coincidence?
Sure. Although Torsten "researching" is kind of a funny concept. I'll get the books from the high shelves and carry them around for you and whatnot.
Torsten will take step B: Fort: +5 (from +4)
At the sound of Aery's voice trailing off, Torsten (who has been white as a sheet), pipes up. This...explains much, I am afraid. When I took my leave from goodwife Mirta today, I noticed footprints in the earth just off the main street. And when I say that I saw them, I mean that I saw them appearing before my very eyes, with no person present to be making them. They led to Harrowstone prison on the hill. I did not attempt to follow, as I felt strongly that doing so would have been suicidal. It seems to me that the prison - or something in it - is related to the defacement of the monument, which is itself a monument to those that died in the prison fire. Torsten makes the sign of pass-evil, and falls silent.
Well, that is most peculiar. Torsten backs away from the prison and, after about 50 yards, turns away, headed back toward town. Periodically he turns to look over his shoulder. Before long, he is running. Need to tell the others. Need to tell the others.
Class Selection: Barbarian
Step Selection: D
Superstition:
The barbarian gains a +2 morale bonus on saving throws made to resist spells, supernatural abilities, and spell-like abilities. This bonus increases by +1 for every 4 levels the barbarian has attained. While raging, the barbarian cannot be a willing target of any spell and must make saving throws to resist all spells, even those cast by allies. Edit: So (this is new to me), should the Favored Class benefit come from Step D? I'm applying it to HP.
I'm planning to try breaking in the town hall by night to have a look at those forbidden archives (although I'll probably have to wait for nighttime). Oh dear, here's hoping my little side-trek doesn't take until then. I'd probably have to try to convince you not to do that. Seeing as how I just explained how we're the good guys, etc. to a town elder. LOL!
Torsten pauses, considering. He looks at the footprints, then back toward the monument. Back toward the footprints, then ahead to where he expects his friends to be. He frowns, growling ominously. He reaches for his steel, then remembers that it is leaning just inside Kendra Lorrimor's front door. He growls even more loudly, his frustration threatening to boil over into outright rage. He cracks his knuckles, clenching his fingers into fists. Leaving reason behind him, he stalks off in pursuit of the footprints.
I'm in favor of giving it a shot, at least.
Torsten bows in turn to Mirta. It has been an honor to pass this time with you, Mirta of Ustalav. Do me this favor: tell them. Tell them we mean no harm, and that we respect this town, its residents, and its customs. And that we wish to help in any way that we may. You are welcome to call on me any time strength is needed. My companions have different strengths, but I am sure they are likewise at your disposal. I wish you well, and good eve. With that, the barbarian turns and walks down the street, remembering that a few of his friends were to visit the town hall. Shouldn't be that hard to find in a town this size, the giant thinks as he trundles through the streets, looking this way and that.
Patcher, I'm assuming that I'm scrubbing with all my might until you tell me I'm done.
When everyone is gone, Torsten turns to Mirta and smiles kindly. Mirta, I am Torsten Olæsson, originally of Losthome in the Land of the Linnorm Kings. I know from experience that my people are often viewed as savage and unruly in Southern lands, but I welcome this opportunity to prove to you that we are honorable as well. We have quite a mess to clean. Shall we begin? Will you show me where I might find buckets and rags?
As they are cleaning, Torsten wonders aloud: Mirta, what is this a monument to? Whose names are these?
In most of my groups, I'd be the guy to keep trying to move us forward. In this group, at this point - that's hard to do. EPIC BARBARIAN RESEARCH! Not so much. My advice from playing in a fair amount of these games is that one of you caster-y types needs to take a bit of control right now. "We go here, we do this" - type posts. Trust me, once we get in a fight, I'll be right in the front, pushing the pace. It's just tough for me right now.
Torsten considers for a moment, then turns to Vashian. I will clean the monument, if you wish it, Vashian. These others are not likely to need my help with their errands. I would be honored to serve the people of Ravengro in this way. If people are to talk about me, at least let them be unable to do so without mentioning that I bear them no ill-will. He eyes the older man expectantly.
Torsten, wary of outraged Ustalavians, leaves his greatsword just inside the door of the house, but hurries ahead of Kendra to asses the situation. He follows the mob.
A linnorm is a fearsome beast, a dragon of sorts. They are only intelligent enough to be dangerous, but physically they are quite daunting. In order to become a Linnorm king, a warrior must defeat one in single combat. There are few Linnorm Kings. The dishes done, Torsten wanders back into the sitting room. So, what is the plan, academics? Where are we off to today?
Torsten laughs roundly at Valerya's question. Ulfen people vary in size, just as Southerners do, Valerya. Physical might plays an important role in our culture, however, so it is to one's advantage to gain as much girth and muscle as one can, and to do so quickly. I am... was... one of the largest men in Losthome, though - at least by height. Several of the elders have grown... wider... as they have turned their prime years over to Pharasma's care, though. As far as what my móðir fed me, I suspect the fare was not much different from your homeland - unless that place be far more exotic than I imagine. Chicken, breads and pastries, stews of all kinds... these were the foods I enjoyed most often. What about you? If you've mentioned where you're from, I've forgotten it in all the events that have transpired since Petros left us.
After breakfast, Torsten oils his greatsword, humming softly in a deep baritone. After that is complete, he moves to clean the dishes, finding peace in the mundane labor. You all talk much of magic, history, and religion. I do not know much of these things. Do not worry for me, I will make myself useful as I may. If anyone needs an escort anywhere, let me know.
Torsten rises early, after spending nearly an hour after the others went to bed, sitting alone, thinking and smoking an ornate pipe of ivory. The morning finds him refreshed, however, and apparently quite a morning person. Good morning, Kendra. How are you feeling today? The bacon smells delicious. He lounges on a chaise, greeting the others by name - full name, save for Venedictos, who is met with a hearty "GOOD MORN, SKALD!" - as they come downstairs.
Aerys nods resignedly and returns the tome. "Yes, we mustn't risk damaging the book. Perhaps we should see what it is we've brought back from the false crypt?" Ah, true enough. Let's see what we have, here... Torsten begins pulling items out of his pack and laying them gently on a side-table.
"Oh goodness, what... what happened to you? Is... is that blood, Torsten?" It is nothing, lady Kendra. Fear not, my people are a hardy sort. At Venedictos' chanting, Torsten relaxes visibly and smiles at the man. He is not surpised to feel his wound closing; such beauty can only come from the gods themselves. He claps Venedictos hard on the back again. Ha! A Tongue of SILVER, skald! You brighten my day. It is almost enough to make me forget that business with the gravestone... Torsten, you really need to clean that wound, only the gods may know where that creature has slithered and what sorts of diseases it can carry. Come with me." Indeed, there seems to be no need. Venedictos' singing seems to have caught the ear of Shelyn Herself, and no surprise! As to poison, I felt it try to overtake me, but I have little doubt that it has failed to do so. In the Land of the Linnorm Kings, we keep pets more deadly than those creatures. He smiles, as if to signify a joke.
--------------------
If you'd like, I can attempt to rip the tome open. That lock does not seem too challenging.
Sorry for my absence folks, a busy day at work yesterday and a wedding today have had me at odds. I have 2 seconds before I hit the bed, so just popping in to apologize. I'm posting first thing tomorrow. Sorry, Patcher.
The burly Northerner nods his head once in brisk agreement. Indeed. Valerya, lead them. I will follow behind.
It's very rare that I post thoughts - because honestly, neither the other players nor the DM should really know what the character is thinking, in my own humble opinion, other than being able to infer it from his words and actions. But, if I do post thoughts, I use Bold+Italic. But Patcher's spot on, to each his own style, as long as it's not too irritating or jarring. You can't really make to serious of a mistake, anyway.
|
