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"Aye, let the lad handle it. To say the last thing that dropped from the ceiling was unpleasant would be a bit of an understatement." Trom adds.
"This magic has some potential, and the book is certainly of value, but the magic is of divine nature. I prefer the arcane, divinity is of little use to me," Trom says. "If anyone here can make use of such a thing, it is best you take it now before our next encounter. If not, I'll hold it till it can be traded for something else."
"Could I take a look at that tome there, lad?" Trom asks. Once the book is in his possession, he'll summon the arcane knowledge at his fingertips to examine the magical text.
"Not a spellbook," Trom comment, "But a book of hymns giving praise to Torag, to whom this Crucible was originally dedicated to. Such a discovery could have immense value to Torag's followers."
"Tis a strange thing to be seeing," Trom says as he walks through the room. Pulling out a dagger, he scrapes some of the fungus up. "I can't help wonder what could be keeping the likes of this lichen from that top shelf," he comments. "Perhaps one of you tall folks can take a look."
"Let's leave the way we came in barred, to keep any beasties out," Trom says, "And perhaps we can find what we're looking for in their." Trom will point towards the smaller door, but won't move to open it, given his recent near death experience.
"We have not yet found the mushrooms," Trom responds, rising from the bench he had claimed. "There are probably a few corners of this place that will have them that we haven't searched yet. I think I shall follow the lead of our expert trap-finder moving forward, seeing as how my haste almost brought ruin on us yesterday."
"Either we take our chances out there or take our chances in here," Trom says thoughtfully. "Frankly, I'd rather we find a way to look outside without them being able to bite at us before open those doors."
"And my magics have yet to be tested this day," Trom adds.
"Damn beasties," Trom mutters as he tries to get some sleep. "Those wolves aren't natural. Somethin' 'bout them is different. Like their smarter than normal, or that they're after somethin' specific. Either us, or some other prey."
"Aye, some time to catch breath would be appreciated," Trom says. "My thanks to ye, lass," Trom mentions to Hendrina, "And my apologies Gimble. By my beard, I'll let you go first in every room we come across from here out."
Trom coughs and opens one eye, staring up at the ceiling. Cursing and grumbling in dwarvish, he slowly sits up. "I know I ain't dead, because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be hurtin' as much if I were," he grumbles. "I take it ye all killed the beasties?"
I'm not dead yet!
Trom's breathing evens out, though he remains unconscious.
I'm just dropping this over here so we don't bog down the game thread. I took 2 damage on the initial grapple, my AC is 12 at best, and I only have a max of 8 hp. 7+2 is 9, then each round for being unconscious I take -1 hp as well. So, I think either way, I'm down for the count.
I apologize, I accidentally posted before it was my turn. It doesn't really change anything, but I will work on not doing that in the future.
I regret nothing!
Trom lets out a small gasp and goes limp in Livlena's hand.
Unable to see, Trom heeds Gimble's warning and does his best to make his way outside.
"Haha, I found the forge," Trom calls to his companions. "Now to find the mushrooms." Trom steps into the room and begins digging around for the object of their journey.
Turning from the room, Trom surveys the double doors. Convinced that there is nothing more to learn from the bones they've found, he heads over and pokes his face through in between the doors, examining the room on the other side.
"But why is this one here? Hiding in a closet? I can't help but wonder if he was part of the hierarchy, or an acolyte overwhelmed with what he felt was expected of him," Trom wonders aloud after translating the paper.
Trom steps forward and begins examining the skeleton. "Aye, but with some patience, we'll find them. In the meantime, we'd best make the most of what we have found." As Trom pokes and prods at the skeleton, he wonders aloud, looking around the room "I can only imagine what he must have been doing in here. And why in here?"
Trom adds his weight to Liv and Odd'n. "Come on, put your backs into it," he grunts.
Is it too late to adjust and keep you? I'm as much a part of the problem as anyone, and it would be good for me to adjust how I'm posting and make other uses of my free time.
"So much for finding the little dwarf's room," Trom mutters. Nonetheless, he rolls his sleeves up and flexes his fingers, prepared to assist his companions if an attack should make itself known.
"Probably not best that we stay the night here then," Trom whispers. "Though if we can find a secure section of building, I'd wager it'd be able to withstand most anything these woods can throw at it." Trom pauses for a moment and examines the doors. If he had been in charge of this monastery, where would he have put the forge? "I'm guessing behind those double doors is a good place to look," he thinks aloud.
"I believe our quarry be the mushrooms that grow near the iron," Trom responds. "Likely we'll find some in what's left of the forge." He'll pause for a moment to translate the inscription for the party.
"Hmm," Trom wonders aloud. "This statue certainly stands as a testament to their craftsmanship, however." Trom steps back and looks up at the statue. "Whoever this was, I wager he was one of their favorite."
"There she is," Trom comments, "another legacy to the hubris of the devoted." Slowly, Trom begins to walk up the path to the monastery, taking in the sights and observing the statues, occasionally touching one to examine it. "Twas fine craftsmanship at one point," he adds.
I'm enjoying how it's going so far. Combat will be fun when it gets here, but I've really enjoyed the story thus far.
Whistling a cheerful tune now that the river is behind them, Trom shifts his pack on his shoulder as he walks along.
Trom examines the situation to try and find the best way to keep the bridge there till they return on the following day. "T'would be a shame if we were t'have to swim on the way back," he mutters to himself.
"I apologize that none of the magics I are of much use in this situation, but I'm more than happy to try and help with the pulling," Trom offers.
Seeing the party split up, Trom chooses to go with Liv and Hennie.
"At the very least, can we see if there's a thinner patch o' water, and mayhap stretch a rope across to help with the crossing? Those of us not as strong in the water would find it a great help to have something to be holding onto," Trom suggests, still eyeballing the water suspiciously.
Trom looks at the water a little nervously. "Are we sure that there be no bridge nearby over this water?"
Trom stumbles over a tree root as he walks. "Goblin? What goblin?" he asks, looking about wildly.
"Can ye see?" Trom asks, looking a little confused. Spotting Jurin, the dwarf realizes what's happening. "Oh, aye, ye can see, but only if ye can speak the magic words." Muttering the incantation, Trom waves his hand, then snaps his fingers, once again allowing the energy to flow to his hand. Electricity dances between his fingertips before Trom closes his fist. "With the right studying, you can do that someday too." With a pleasant smile, Trom turns to catch up with his companions and get ready for the trip.
Trom looks thoughtful for a moment. "Lass," he says, to Laurel, "As it looks like we're heading out rather soon, could ye get a message to the man Thorn for me if he appears in town? Just so he doesn't think I dodged out on our plan for drinks."
Trom chuckles to himself and rubs his hands together. "Then a drink is needed before we leave, to celebrate good company and hope for safe returns."
"No worries, lass, there's nothing wrong with being tall and spindly either," Trom chuckles. After listening to Odd'n, Trom offers up a suggestion. "It would do us as good to investigate the monastery as much as it would anywhere else, but we'd best make sure we have supplies for the journey and know how far we're to go."
Trom strokes his beard thoughtfully. "There's an old monastery-or at least, there used to be-that my people set up. I say my people, but them times, the dwarves that set up Droskar's Crucible were banished from kinship with those of Torag's worshipers when they began taking after Droskar, the same that the crag is named after. Chances are we'd find a good crop o' those mushrooms up around the forge there, and such a place would have an attraction for those of less than virtuous endeavors."
Trom listens carefully, reviewing his past studies in his mind to see if anything that Hendrina said jumps out at him.
After coming inside and ensuring that there aren't any prying ears, Trom shares some of the details of his conversation with Thorn with his companions.
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