Torvald Stonecask's page

"I'm afraid this is where our paths diverge. My road takes me north and west--to the Worldwound and fabled Jormurdun. Good luck on your travels, friends!"

Going to roll Eoshli, my wild elf Fate witch, for this one

Drawing another bomb, Torval gives it a shake and throws it at the other axebeak. "Well...maybe you'll make good eating, at least."

Bomb: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 6 + 1 = 22 Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (6, 6) + 4 + 1 = 17

"I'd prefer not to kill them, if possible. But if they're a threat to others in the area...well, I won't risk any of your lives to save theirs."

Ready a Bomb: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 6 + 1 = 11 Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (5, 5) + 4 + 1 = 15

Torvald holds his position, keeping half an eye on the two axebeaks while his main attention turns to mapping out a rout around the birds.

A return to Silverhall seems best.

"As Yates said, we are all of us Pathfinders, on our first assignment together. I myself am Torvald Stonecask, from faraway Janderhoff. To be frank, my lord, we were hired by your mother to...look in on you--though she did not know of your plight with the bandits."

Could Torvald scan the dueling blade to see if it also has Marek's forgemark?

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

Following the young man's gaze to the pile of equipment, Torvald steps out of the way. "Of course, my lord," the dwarf says.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18 aww...

Sketching a small bow, Torvald moves to assist the young man the rest of the way out of the chest. "It was our honor to assist, young lord Lander. There wasn't anyone else with you when you were captured, was there? Our understanding was that you were alone, but I'd hate to leave anyone behind."

Brushing aside the tent-flap and following Yates in, Torvald sweeps the note off of the desk and gives it a read. "Hm. This doesn't reflect well on our friend Marek," the dwarf comments as he passes off the note and turning his attention to the chest.

Assuming someone opened it while Torvald was reading the note! :)

Recognizing that Aldona was thrashing his allies in melee, Torvald draws another bomb. "Aldona, you wretched cur! Leave that boy alone and test your mettle against a warrior of Janderhoff!"

Bomb vs Aldona: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 6 + 1 = 25 Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (2, 6) + 4 + 1 = 13
Using Precise Bombs to spare Yates, Bahram, and the fallen bandit!

were-mechawolf!

"I hate the smell of burnt hair," Torvald grumbles to himself has be breaks cover from the tents, drawing a bomb and flinging it at the werewolf.

Bomb vs Aldona: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 6 + 1 = 12 Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (1, 1) + 4 + 1 = 7
Using Precise Bombs so my allies aren't singed! and hoping a 12 hits touch, sheesh.

Given that the mutagen was a Readied Action, do I not get my normal turn this round? It looks like I was moved in the initiative order...?

"That must be Aldona!" Torvald shouts to the others as he advances on the knot of bandits, drawing a vial and taking cover by the nearest tent.

"Don't be a fool Aldona! Surrender and give us the boy, unharmed, and you'll be spared. You have my word on that!"

Move, then Ready Action to drink my Mutagen (Con/Cha, AC21) if they don't comply

Is that someone who's averagely successful most of the time, but becomes a poser under the full moon, Bahram?

Stealth: 1d20 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (3) + 2 - 1 = 4

Torvald's many skills clearly don't include woodcraft, and the dwarf seems to have an uncanny knack for stepping on the loudest twigs and catching every root and bramble along the way. "Sorry," he says more than once, much too loudly.

Torvald walks away from the prisoners, combing the grasses and mud for signs of a small group dragging a captive.

Survival: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

Torvald snorts derisively and shakes his head. "Aye, I can't say I see any promotions in your future."

"If these louts' leader has the boy, we should move quickly," Torvald suggests, checking the position of the sun in the sky.

As he works the knots on the the bandit, Torvald grills him about his presence here.

"So before we head off to thrash your precious Aldona, what were you doing here? You seemed to be looking for something--a young man named Lander, by any chance?"

"This lot should be taken back to town, to answer for their crimes to the local lords. But that'll have to wait, I've heard enough."

It's not ideal, but we should tie them up and come back for them later.

Heal: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8 "I don't think he's gonna make it. I did warn the bastard..."

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

Stripping the weapons off the fallen, Torvald stops and stares as the forge-mark catches his eye. "No...surely not. No one could be that stupid..." the dwarf says softly.

Moving to stand next to Bahram, scowling at human's bravado. "We took you lot apart like a child's toy, what makes you think we won't do the same to Aldona?"

"What in all the miserable frozen Hells was that about?! Who are these idiots and why did they attack us first thing?! This does not bode well for Lander..." Torvald grumbles and grouses in Dwarven as he imbibes one of his healing elixers, then slogs through the stream to check on the thug he had bombed.

CLW Elixir: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

"Gah!" Swearing profusely in Dwarven, Torvald yanks the arrow out of his left shoulder and hurls the bomb after the fleeing bandit. "Don't say I didn't warn you!"

Bomb vs Blue: 1d20 + 6 - 2 ⇒ (12) + 6 - 2 = 16 Damage: 2d6 + 4 ⇒ (4, 3) + 4 = 11

Advancing on the thug he'd bombed, Torvald draws another and shakes it at the ruffian in the middle. "Don't be a gods-damned fool! Throw down your weapons or I'll blow you to Hell, you slagging son of a troll!"

Intimidate vs Blue: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (1) - 2 = -1 Good lord

Torvald would have make that Diplomacy as his surprise round. He's surprised this went straight to violence so immediately.

Torvald sighs, "So that's how it's to be, is it? Take them, Pathfinders, but try not to kill them! Dead men spill no secrets after all." Advancing on the trio he draws a bomb and tosses it at one of the strangers. "Let this be a warning to you!"

Bomb vs Red: 1d20 + 6 - 2 ⇒ (20) + 6 - 2 = 24 Confirm?: 1d20 + 6 - 2 ⇒ (1) + 6 - 2 = 5 Damage: 2d6 + 4 ⇒ (3, 1) + 4 = 8

Attack vs red

"Pleasant afternoon, gentlemen!" Torvald calls, before the three mistake their approach for an ambush. "I couldn't help but notice you seem to be looking for something, which is a happy coincidence because so are we! Perhaps we can help one another out? My name is Torvald Stonecask, of Janderhoff. And you are...?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (11) - 2 = 9

Are Lander's boots by themselves, or does he appear to have anyone with him?"

"Curious, what made him careless enough to leave this behind?" Torvald muses aloud as he and Bahram examine the handkerchief. "Mind taking the lead, Bahram? I'm more useful from a distance if we run into any trouble."

Survival: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

"If your suspicions are correct, then trusting Marek's directions solely on his word may cost us time, if we've been mislead. Perhaps we should try to verify the boy's location independently? Though I'm not sure we have the time, Lander's danger sounded real enough to me..."

With a sigh, Thorek shakes his head and rises to his feet. "I thank you for your help, Marek, but it sounds like we should be off. immediately."

"Does the boy run with any companions? Surely he wouldn't be reckless enough to undertake this little quest alone..." Torvald's tone is far from certain, however.

Torvald slowly walks a circuit around the room, examining the weapons on display. "I'm not much of a swordsman--that's more my sister's bailiwick than mine--but I think she'd love to own one of the famous Aldori dueling blades." The alchemist snaps his fingers, as though remembering something. "Ah! But we're not here for souvenirs, I'm afraid. Marek, I am Torvald Stonecast, with the Pathfinder Society. My companions and I were hoping to meet with young lord Lander Lebeda. We had hoped to find him here, but since he isn't present, would you happen to know where he could be found?"

"OR," Thorek harumphs, "we could stop hemming and hawing about what Laafdahni is wearing and focus on the mission. Besides, you're all confusing poor Magellia. Let's walk and talk!"

Jars and vials clinking away, the dwarf sets off towards the Three Tongs. "That was good information on the smith, Bahram. Working the swordlords-were-also-nobles angle isn't a bad idea. Depending on how idealistic the boy is, we could also emphasize that the power and money a noble house has are valuable assets for making others' lives better."

"Is it possible he is being quietly manipulated? Possibly by a rival seeking to weaken your family in a perfectly deniable way? I'd prefer to know now, rather than be caught by surprise if we step into someone's intrigue."

"The Horn's magic is in need of returning? Troubling." Torvald stroks his beard thoughtfully. "Well...what did it do, before the Last Azlanti's death?"

Torvald chortles a bit. "Me? I'm gorgeous. Laafdahni is, ah, not my type, if you take my meaning." He chuckles again but then stops as he considers the android, and shakes his head. "Actually you probably don't, nevermind. But yes, I suppose she's pretty. She's slim, athletic, seems vivacious. For some reason the word "svelte" comes to mind. I get it, Bahram is a young fellow and they tend to let their hormones lead the way."

He leans away and gives Bahram a nod of agreement. "My bombs serve well enough in a fight, but I prefer the jobs where I don't have to use them. But Pathfinders have, ah, a certain reputation, so I suspect Dame Lebeda has a use for our particular skills in mind. Keep your axe sharp, al-Urgug, think it's likely that you'll need it before we're done."

Torvald nods slowly at this, then waves Magellia closer before whispering. "Laafdahni loves swimming so much, she couldn't resist doing it now. She was comparing it to being compelled by magic because she feels so strongly about it. Bahram was expressing his delight that that this job has him working with Laafdahni, because she is pretty. I hope this helps."

"Golem folk is not an accurate description however, our making is not of this world."

"Golems come from all over, but I take your meaning." Torvald nods at Bahram in greeting, but rolls his eyes at the half-orc's response to Laafdahni's arrival.

Magellia's confusion prompts the dwarf to look askance at the android. 'I genuinely cannot tell if you're putting us on," he tells them.

Oh good grief, I provided the wrong name when my character introduced himself. He said TORVALD, it was definitely Torvald. He didn't refer to himself by the wrong name...

Oh! I'm also okay with adding a seventh player, especially if they're new. I don't feel strongly about it either way but I prefer to include people when possible.

I have also played Oathbreaker's Die already, so I'd prefer to stick with this scenario if feasible.

Thorek glances up from his stack of notes and calculations, squinting at the android with eyes used to long hours of reading in dim light.

"Aye, to retrieve the Horn of a dead god. Hell of a story." Closing his book, the dwarf extends an ink- and chemical-stained hand. "Name's Thorek, of Clan Stonecask way back in Janderhoff."

The dwarf is of average height for his kind, though less muscular than the stereotypical dwarf. Dozens of pouches and and containers are attached to a bandolier/harness fastened over his armor, and his grey eyes are sharp and alert over a thick black beard that could be considered grand if it weren't for a half-dozen burnt patches.

"You're one of them 'roids, the golem-folk? Pleased to meet ya."

Ah whoops! Craft (Alchemy): 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (5) + 14 = 19

Torvald Stonecask here, alchemist hailing from the Sky Citadel of Janderhoff. Spent most of his career wandering around the Land of the Linnorm Kings and connected environs.

Hey team, I must respectfully drop out of the adventure. Some live games have come up that I would like Torvald to be able to participate in, and I can’t afford to wait until this adventure reaches Lvl6. Thank you for having me, and good luck with the orcs and devils!

"Who do we have left to check on? We could escort these fine folks back to Arwyll Stead ourselves..."

"Does this feel...too easy to you? No one we've run into has talked about seeing signs of orcs. It's making me uneasy."

But they walked past right? Were they headed in the same direction as the fleeing family? Towards the next stop on our map? Somewhere else?

"Where's our next stop? If there's an orcish raiding party in the area we need to warn folks as quickly as possible!"

What direction was the unseen orc band headed, relative to our next stop?