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Let's give this a go!:
20-point buy it is! A few questions that may aid in character background: 1. Will there be social interaction beyond the party, or should bards and the like be eschewed? 2. Do the ruins/dungeon account for the perceived totality of the adventure? If so, is this fourth-walled (in the event level 9 is achieved, the party wizard finding there is a teleport "block")? Many thanks!
"Perhaps you see no trouble in letting them take you, but I see the value in my own hide. The only distraction I'll be making is to save my own beard."
Listening to Bonewright carefully, Wheatbeard heard the truth in his words. "We must be careful not to be found then. We're weaker than Orcs, and the humans will not stand well against then. They must be warned." Though harboring no particular affection for the tallfolk, Wheatbeard thought they were okay as trading neighbors - unlike marauding Orcs. "A path apart from them we should take, running alongside; a mammoth would be easily seen if we went on the same route."
"Yet you're probably right, Asheru. It's the safest way. If you're willing, Bonewright, consult the greenskin's spirit."
"The only way would be to make them turn aside for a bit - long enough for us to get ahead. A good rain would cover our tracks."
"If we're lucky, we can pick-up the pieces when we're finished. Maybe there will be some clues as to why they're here."
"Hope we not find everyone dead." "No," says Wheatbeard wryly. "They will surely take some slaves."
Busy at work today. Will update later. Is it settled that you want to head back? Yes.
Damned bugs! Wheatbeard understood like the other animals, the insects had to eat too. So bothersome about it though. Rather I just cut off a piece of my fat and leave it to them instead of this constant biting. He offered no qualm about covering himself in mud, for even though he was removed from a tribe, no Dwarf was afraid of the earth, liquid or otherwise.
His attention drawn to some tracks suddenly by Bonewright, Wheatbeart pointed out the direction of the human lands to aid them. "We are headed to their lands this way," he pointed, making crystal clear the difference between the tracks and their bearing, if any.
"Agreed." Wheatbeard did not not to see twenty Orcs to know they did not belong here. Queer steam columns, lakes of mud and silt ... this was no good place, doubly so for them. Besides, the sooner we leave, the sooner we are rid of the Elf-woman... Puzzing though was why the Orcs needed a wall around them. From what would they need protection? No tribes of Dwarves or men Wheatbeard knew made a habit of venturing to lands like these. Perhaps her people? Also doubtful; she would have said something. This was a mystery better left unsolved until a proper group could return though. They weren't it.
"Then it's settled. I don't know about splitting, but I for one want to see this group of Orcs with mine own eyes." Not taking no for an answer, the Dwarf began waddling off in the direction the tracks led. Hopefully the Elf-woman will be in this other group.
As the group awoke, Wheatbeard could tell that woman wasn't going to change anytime soon. Still wrapped in that blanket like she's sitting around a campfire with dancers and servants. Regardless, they would have to press on. "Semms we've got two choices - to follow them on towards the mudpits or to head back. I'd be for following a bit, just to see how many more there are if nothing else."
Wheatbeard could take no more of her haughty nature. "Can you? After such a difficult day of singing, you must be tired." He stormed-off to the more exterior trees to observe the Orcs' self-eviction from the area and to make sure they didn't have second thoughts. Anything to be away from that wench!
"Maybe its strength was needed to restrain the beast. After seeing it, I don't doubt it was out of need, not out of plenty." These were dangerous times indeed though - Orcs with not only iron but Trolls in their thrall. While they had been known to enslave other races, one so monstrous being put under their rule was news. And not of the good kind. "Move or no? My legs are tired and cast a deciding stone to stay PUT then." A bit upset at the indecisveness, Wheatbeard was no longer in the mood to quibble over it.
Thank the sky for the rain. "It looks like they left us. Won't be back for the night. Should we stay here? At least there's some shelter from the rain." Wheatbeard felt only a slight twinge of regret for the Troll. If it wasn't it, it would've been us. And had we met it while free to do as it would... well, some things were best not to think about. Bonewright's suggestion makes him reconsider though. "Could be. I could walk for a while if need be. Which way?"
"We must keep moving. Quiet if we can, but still better to go than stay if we cannot." Wheatbeard glanced to the mammoth at the end of his words. Too big to conceal probably, but we have no choice. Fighting the Orcs would be suicide.
Wheatbeard is hoping to go for option 3 (as the game thread implies), knowing option 4 might happen concurrantly. I was waiting for Caedmon to post as it's been a week.
Catching his breath for only a moment once reaching the trees, Wheatbeard sees the line of Orcs. There's over a dozen! This was no time to stick around, but they wouldn't be outrunning them. Hopefully, they could outmaneuver them though. Looking from side to side as he moved, the Dwarf tried to lay eyes upon some terrain more concealing than a plain.
After Moklik's suggestion, Wheatbeard's memory was jarred; it would be a futile effort to try to poke this Troll to death. Instead, he followed Moklik's lead and got out of there as fast as his little legs would take him.
Damnation! First a Troll, now Orcs... Now was not the time for uncertainty though. The creature seemed to be recovering from its wounds at a superhuman rate, and they surely would not be able to outrun it if it chose to follow. "Finish it!" shouted Wheatbeard. Then we must hope we can evade those Orcs... He aimed at the beast's heart, hopeful impaling it would stop it's recovery.
There are no dice gods; there is only the DM!
Lower? The troll's large even by the standards of men, and it's hard to get much lower than a Dwarf! While Wheatbeard wouldn't normally heed that seemingly ridiculous advice from whispers in his head, he did in the thick of combat, a place where he was a stranger. To his amazement, his spear struck true. A new level of reverence for the spirits of nature took over him, and, combined with the Elf's song, they gave him the courage to hold his own against their opponent.
Though the creature took a beating so far, it was far from collapsing. The power of the storm coming to the Dwarf's aid was still not enough, nor were the strikes of the others at the time. Then we must have more. Closing the rest of the distance with the troll, Wheatbeard took a thrust of his spear at it.
Wheatbeard followed the cavalier's lead, but his stubby legs would not take him as fast as a mammoth. If Wheatbeard can move to and attack the Troll:
A thrust of the Dwarf's spear opened the combat.
If not: Wheatbeard moved to confirm the target's anatomy. Such things do exist... Calling on the power within him, he blew at the organism, hoping to catch it off-guard.
"Attack now while it distracted?" Tupilek asks from Pikkuveli's back. He lowers his long lance in the direction of the troll, ready to charge forward as soon as it's clear he won't be alone. "Yes. Go while we have the chance!" Normally not one to rush things, Wheatbeard did not like the look of this creature at all. They would need all the variables on their side they could get to vanquish it. He waited for the mammoth to charge the interloper then followed behind him.
Trolls? Those were just folk-lore - or so Wheatbeard thought. The markings on the tree made a bit more sense now, a Troll being large enough to perhaps wreak such large incisions. Perhaps this was it's territory... Either way now, there was a good chance they would come to hostilities. The Dwarf picked his spear off the ground and surveyed the horizons as best he could in the storm, waiting for the creature.
Startled at first, the sign for quiet kept Wheatbeard's questions internal for now. What manner of creature would be roaming tonight? Granted, such nights were more a spectacle than a sadness to him, but other than fish, he didn't know what animals got excited during storms. The lightning highlighting the trees once more in the night, Wheatbeard saw how close they were to the cliff's face. Protection from lightning from one direction... The odd center cut in one tree's bark puzzled the Dwarf the most though. Much of what appeared to be claw markings could be foudn on the tree, four in a row. Yet the gash across the quartet did not seem to be of the same make. Perhaps a cut made as someone hunted a beast. That still did not explain the four assumed clawings on the tree. Two sets of marks? If so, why parallel to each other? Perhaps they were something else entirely. Tending to divert his attention to such things, Wheatbeard needed to make a conscious effort to refocus himself on the situation at hand. What they saw was probably a beast scared by the lightning. More than that, they would see when the time came. Tupilek already voiced the short man's inquiry, so he kept his mouth closed at the moment.
A situation will arise where he could be convinced to use it/the amulet, but as of now, he sees them as things to be honored - put on a pedastel - not wielded/worn. Necessity is a good impetus for change though.
Happy to be out of the ground - an odd sensation for a Dwarf - Wheatbeard was pleased to be away from the dead, even if it mean being in the raid. Especially so, actually, for it was cleansing to him. It also helped the gray skies were easier on his eyes than the garishly bright sun. The bronze breastplate did not seem to overburden its wearer much during the travel, so Wheatbeard took special interest in it. If only more things could be made to endure as that... Over time, the stalagtites of caves were shaped by the elements, and over time, the elements reshaped many man-caves; huts, tents, and shacks were blown away, watered-down, or, in this case, pummeled to a powder. The hail was more cold than harmful, but the occasional bullet of it fell just the right way to sting briefly. Wheatbeard's thick skin prevented real damage, but it would not do to inspect his amulet in such weather. While fearful of the ancestor's reprisal, he felt it necessary to find whatever culture they'd belonged to - especially after the appearance of the ghosts. Maybe the Elf-woman would know, but it was hard to say - and harder to say to her. Her haughty ways didn't sit well with the more practical Dwarf. One night of particularly ponderous precipitation, Bonewright shaed the details of his organization with Wheatbeard. Dwarves, as a culture, also respected tradition greatly, so he understood the urge to follow the will of regularity. There was a notable difference between the two though. "So you have seen these cities-that-were? I've only heard tales, but I can imagine they were wonders. Relics from them would be valuable, but I'm more interested in the stories they'd tell." Jogging his memory, Wheatbeard pulled out the amulet he found in the tomb. "The place we were - it had this in it. I can't make sense of it's meaning from the picture. Maybe one knowing the old peoples would?" He gave Bonewright the amulet - not something easy for him to do, parting with gold; though he hadn't been among his people for a time, old ways were forgotten slowly.
Wheatbeard is a bit distrustful of using the dead's instrments; he sees it as a sign of bringing dishonor to them were he to not use them well, and he's not exactly the warrior type. He is interested in the craftsmanship on the breastplate, but he would not wear it. The spear would be most useful to him, though as I said above, he doesn't desire it.
AS they gather the things and prepare to leave, Wheatbeard gazes at Bonewright. He knows more than he's said. "What is this Order's purpose?" First the dead rise, now the show hand of some organization was found in the tomb. Oddly, even though back under the gruond, Wheatbeard felt oddly vulnerable here. It was time to leave.
Though the solid plate of bronze would offer him protection, the Dwarf had his own ways of defending himself. And in the wet areas, that armor could be more a curse than a blessing. He was not of strength to be swinging a club, the point of his spear providing the damage he needed with much less force. Shaking his head, "Not me," came his reply. "Some of you huntsmen are stronger and may make better use." It wasn't every day one encoutnered such warriors from the world beyond. "We need to get out of here, tell of what we know so people can act. We are but few." Though it wasn't their original purpose, they did possess some valuable information now. "What should we do with the Elf-woman?" inquired Wheatbeard as he bagan to trace their steps back to the surface.
The exchange a bit macabre for him, Wheatbeard did not reach forward for any of the items. Though the craftsmanship on the breastplate interested him greatly, these living dead unnerved him moreso; his heart skipped a beat when the other two rose up. Bowing once more, he said out of the side of his mouth to the group: "I've had my fill of this place."
At least by cutting our losses, we won't have the same problem with him again. Regarding your suggestion of what to do about the character, I think incorporating some fresh meat as you mentioned above is a good path.
Wheatbeard stood in awe of the exchange. It was one thing to converse with spirits, but quite another to bring the dead to bear and have a chat. His magics must be powerful indeed, thought Wheatbeard of Bonewright. "Can he describe it? It's been so long since he was among the living, he may have a very different idea of what a burning terror is than you or I." The Dwarf did not like the way the skeleton stopped to look at him though. He did his best to remain eye contact, however. If he can talk, better keep things polite. The druid bowed low before the skeleton in respect - not a difficult task at Wheatbeard's height - and awaited further talking.
With Caedmon's mention of undead, Wheatbeard backs away from the yet-unknown skeleton's resting place. "You mean in here? Surely there wouldn't be such a demon within; the bones outside were harmless."
Busy looking at the fine details, Wheatbeard's heart nearly leaped out of his chest as the explosion of the stone slab hitting the floor startled him. "Careful!" shouted the Dwarf. Height (or lack thereof) handicapping him and his eyes elsewhere though, he was not immediately aware of the skeleton at hand ...
The trouble it would take to create such a vessel for the dead surely denoted their importance; Wheatbeard moved forward to check the stone sarchophagus with patience. Perhaps marking on it could detail whomever lay within its protective walls - or the people from which he/she came.
"As best I can tell, it looks like something one of our seers would wear," observed Wheatbeard to the group. Though his darkvision allowed him to avoid stumbling into pits, it wasn't the best tool for fine, specific visuals. Perhaps above ground the amulet would be easier to analyze. For now, he put the medallion in his satchel with the gold pieces he had and motioned towards the passageway leading further inward. "Let us move on." And so he did.
Even old and worn as it was, Wheatbeard knew gold when he saw it; how could one of his kind not? Though gold was always welcome in one's sack to spend, this particular medallion had an image of some sort, not fully visable to Wheatbeard. Perhaps it holds the clues as to who these people were? "Forgive me, spirits" offered the Dwarf as he slid the amulet out from the bone pile, disturbing them as little as possible. Careful not to bend the gold, a quite soft and malleable metal, Wheatbeard looked-over the obverse carefully before reversing the object. "This may be the best clue we have to the departed souls here," he announced to his companions as he formed a description of the image in his mind to relay to them.
Delving back to the room of bones, Wheatbeard gave them a closer look, his curiosity getting the best of him. Were they of human stature? Dwarven? Something else entirely? While refraining from touching them out of respect for the dead, he did not feel such veneration as to leave the chamber alone entirely; after all, in this dangerous place, it would help to know all they could...
That said, it would also help to know how far this place actually spanned. Looking around for passages leading inward on his way to/in the tomb, Wheatbeard probed the walls with his eyes. If there was a tunnel, he would take it.
I generally wait for GM response before posting further actions, but I will chain them now. As an example, Wheatbeard is descending into the pit once again. More spiders may await them, and he may not find a passage beyond the tomb. I left that for you to declare, but I suppose I could assume the passageways extend farther. Also, while we're on the topic of people picking it up, I'm assuming Asheru is gone as we haven't heard from him in 2+ weeks.
Walking down into the dark earth, Wheatbeard wondered what lay in the tombs - just bones? - and perhaps beyond them. This was no easy journey of emotion, for the feeling they were not alone was constant. He descended slowly.
Seeing his prediction of the firmament come to fruition, Wheatbeard nodded to himself. The rain will wash the stains of death away here. But what else lurked below? Such work put into not only creating the chamber but keeping it safe from outsiders, there was little doubt the people entombed therein were important during their lives. They were not his kind, and it was clear the others did not know of the dead. Elenid was not letting on she knew anything either. A great mystery, it was, and Wheatbeard liked mysteries - or solving them, rather. In the meantime, it seemed they all needed a break. Bruised and battered, Wheatbeard ripped some cloth from the dead, poisoned Orcs in an attempt to accelerate scabbing and keep the wounds shut. Especially with such vicious creautres calling this place their home, one could never be too safe.
Can you all check your character sheets, and make sure they are up to date for level 2. Some of them still say level 1, and I need to be sure that you've updated hp, skill ranks etc. Thanks Sure, I was just waiting until we rested.
Before doing anything, Wheatbeard would like to rest. He would speak to exploring this catacomb further.
"Trechery deserves no honor," opposed Wheatbeard, his tired, worn state bringing out the harshness within him. "I must rest." He stumbled back near the entrance, meaning to make for the beginning of their pit.
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