Silver halls and mithral doors Stone walls to seal the cavern grander sights than e'ere before In smithy, mine, and tavern
Toil hard in endless night In toast, oh, lift your flagon! Ye'll need the drink to keep you right At the forge that bakes the dragon.
Come Delzoun, come one and all Rush to grab yer kin And tell 'em that their home awaits In grandest Gauntlgrym!
-The Canticle of Gauntlgrym
It is early spring, and the land surrounding the ancient dwarven stronghold of Gauntlgrym sings with life as the last of winter's snow melts under the noontide sun. It is said that Gauntlgrym's forges are never cold, and the unceasing roar of the Great Forge beneath the city stands testament to the validity of this statement. The heat from the forges rises on the updraft and warms the streets of Gauntlgrym, chasing the last vestiges of winter from the city.
Despite the optimism with which the inhabitants of Gauntlgrym view the future, the stronghold is still recovering from it's war with the drow in 1484. The mines have been reopened, the Iron Tabernacle restored, and the Great Forge rekindled, but a lurking fear has pervaded the hearts of the people of Gauntlgrym. Whispers of a horror below circulate throughout the city, and dismembered corpses are found in the sewers. Fell things shamble in the dungeons and mines beneath the city, and an increasing number of miners have refused to enter the levels beneath the Great Forge. Most unsettling of all, clerics of Moradin claim that the father god has ceased to answer their prayers.
Such are the conditions you find yourselves in this spring morning. Welcome to Gauntlgrym.
Wazzok approaches the stronghold gates, a pack slung over her shoulder carrying almost everything she owns. Her huge muscles ripple where they are visible and if the cold bothers her it doesn't show. Her breath comes out as a plume of steam and when she is within view of the heavy gate doors she sighs with relief and sets her pack down a moment. She takes a few minutes to stretch, then cracks her neck and knuckles before putting her pack on backwards, and strolling up to the gates.
Here goes... She thinks to herself. Bahgtru preseve me, I hope these dwarves don't shoot me where I stand.
Even if there are knockers on the door she will pound on it bare knuckled.
"Hail?! Anyone in there?! I've traveled a long way, through the night, and could use a strong drink!"
Wazzok hears a strange low voice from her right, sounding almost like the crunching made by pebbles underfoot.
"Why do you beat against the gate green one? If gates are closed, visitors are unwelcome, yes?"
Turning, Wazzock sees a bald earth genasi sat cross legged amongst the rocks at the side of the entrance, almost appearing as a stone statue with his straight, unwavering posture. His belongings are laid out before him on top of a brown blanket, except for the large bone scimitar slung over his shoulder. His deep green eyes scan the half-orc's face, almost as though they are searching for something.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." -Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
Wazzok is caught entirely off guard and almost leaps out of her skin, her hand goes to the hilt of her shortblade and you can see the muscles in her neck tighten.
"By Shargaass's low hanging left nut, what is that?! I mean is you?! I mean... what are you?!"
She relaxes a little bit when the rock man doesn't appear to reach for his blade, and her hands fall to her hips. She meets his gaze, one eyebrow raised as if studying him for a moment. She waits for him to respond.
"I am a son of Ogremoch. You seem confused green one. I'm sorry, I have no hanging nuts to feed you." The genasi smiles apologetically.
The earthy man stands and walks out from his rocky resting place, striding over and through the stony terrain as naturally as one would a paved road. He approaches the half-orc and holds his hand out, a smile filling his face that looks like it doesn't quite belonging on such a stoic face.
"I think grasping hands is the correct way to introduce, yes? Others I have seen hold in embrace, if you would prefer?" Again, his eyes scan the half-orc's face knowingly.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." -Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
The massive iron gates of Gauntlgrym grind open and a dwarf with an intricately braided black beard strides out, dragging the 50-pound ceremonial axehammer of the Gauntlgrym Watch.
"Right, you lot!" He growls. "What's your business in Gauntlgrym in these godforsaken times?"
"You're rather jumpy, aren't you?" A small voice squeaks from behind the two.
A halfling makes her way up to the pair, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail that swishes as she moves. A large grin is plastered on her slightly tanned face. Various weapons are strapped to both her belt and her backpack, the most prominent of them being a bow the size of the tiny woman. Her clothes are worn and the leather chestpeice has multiple scratches marring it, but everything seems well maintained.
She stares up at the two as she stops and places her hands on her hips. "He does blend in with the surroundings, though! Good thing if you ever need to hide." She pauses, looking at the gate and the dwarf opening it. "Hello there! Pleasure to meet you. I'm here to learn about this place."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Wazzok takes Brixo's outstretched wrist firmly, with a grip that feels strong even to someone made of stone.
"Well met, Son of Ogremoch. I am Muul the last daughter of the Wazzok clan. You can call me Wazzok, Waz if you run out of time."
Releasing her grip she turns to face the halfling her chin rolling downward as the Cori approached her.
"Ah, and one of the little-folk, erm sorry if that is not the correct term, I don't meant to offend."
She squats down so that she can offer her hand carefully.
"Well met, I am called Wazzok"
Regardless of whether the halfling shakes her hand or not she seems unperturbed, and as the gates rumble open she stands and turns to meet the guard.
"Hail good master dwarf, I am Muul, daughter of Kord of clan Wazzok, and this is Son of Ogremoch, and this here a little halfling lass who just appeared over the horizon I was not sure if you could see her. I have heard of Gauntlgrym's legendary blacksmiths and mythic forge and was hoping to apply to study under the tutelage of one of your master smiths. But it seems that you are troubled, pray tell, what is it that causes you such..." She seems a bit lost, trying to find a bigger word and faltering "er... trouble?"
She's trying her best to seem friendly and amiable and stands there openly, towering over everyone around her except maybe Brixo.
Although she is clearly trying to be charming, her size, and muscles, and orcish nature feel oppressive and menacing, and the stench coming off of her from days of travel wafts toward the dwarf in an almost tangible acrid fog.
The earth genasi looks down at the halfling, then over at the dwarf. "I think... " He considers his words for a moment. "That you and I are giants." he says to the half-orc completely serious, nodding his head.
"Although I was not giant before. Strange." He muses. "Bearded one, I come bearing words for your ruler. Very important. Brixo Stonewarden, I am." He spins, arm still outstretched, and approaches the dwarf with that unnatural smile.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." -Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
The dwarf grunts and nods in the direction of Gauntlgrym, causing his helm to slip over his eyes.
"Aye, trouble's the word. Stay out of the streets after dark, and don't descend into the mines. Folks are claiming that the dead have risen and Gauntlgrym has been condemned by the gods. Nonsense, in my opinion, but I can't deny that something funny is going on."
Cori stands up strait to shake Wazzok's hand. She seems used to the fact that everyone is taller than her. She winks at the half-orc as she says, "You're fine, tall friend."
Her attention then turns to the dwarf guard, and she moves to make sure he could see her. "I've heard of those rumors! It seems a bit extravagant, the whole 'abandoned by gods' part. But you never know! What sort of funny business is going on?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
"Dismembered corpses have been dragged out of the sewers, screaming and moaning can be heard in the mines at night, and unnatural things have been sighted in the streets after dark." The dwarf replies grimly. "It's a bad business, make no mistake."
"I know of what it is you speak. I will have drink with this green one. Send king to me, I will explain all." Brixo says matter-of-factly, with no judgement on proper etiquette when it comes to a king's audience. He picks up his few meagre possessions and heads through the gate, past the other three gathered outside.
He looks over his shoulder, "Where do we drink green one?"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." -Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
As the exchange ends, the hawk circling overhead suddenly makes a sharp turn and flies with purpose towards the many manors of the richer section of Gauntlgrym. It dives as it reaches Keep Falrin, swooping into one of the many windows and landing on a central desk in the room. There it sits for a minute before screeching, making the sleeping figure at the desk start. “Dae, you know I hate that, don’t you?” the young woman scolds groggily, brushing her dark red hair back behind her prominent horns. “What could you possibly need this early?” Her head cocks for a second as she seems to listen to a silent report from the bird. “Strangers? I wonder... who would come to the city at a time like this? Perhaps...” She suddenly sits up straight. “Perhaps these people are the ones! Oh, this is good. Very good. But it wouldn’t do to get too excited just yet. Go follow them, and report back to me about what you find. I’ll see what I can do about father.” She stands, tousled hair and wrinkled robes suddenly becoming presentable with a mutter and a flick of her wrist. She moves towards the door as the hawk flies back out over the city, catching sight of the genasi and half-orc as they move towards their pub of choice.
Assuming the dwarf gives her a tip about which tavern to head to and how to get there, Wazzok will straighten, and stretch her back. Stooping to talk to these smaller folk gives her a kink in her lower back. She will greet anyone she runs into along the way with a sharp-toothed grin, and do her best to appear friendly and amiable. When she arrives at the tavern she opens the door and curses audibly as her forehead nearly crashes into the top of the frame. Undeterred, she hunches over slightly so that she is not in danger of running her head into anything else, and makes her way to the bar to order.
"Good day to you barkeep! A flagon of your finest for my new friends and I!"
She weighs her coin purse in her hand and grimaces.
At another table you hear an argument reach a peak "For the last time Moradin has abandoned no one the all father still answers my prayers I don't know what's wrong with the clerics here!" As a black haired dwarf sits up from the table and storms to the counter "Give me something hard barkeep"
"Send Bruenor Battlehammer to you?" The dwarf guard is speechless, and he stares agape as you pass through the mithral doors and emerge into the ancient city of Gauntlgrym.
Stone columns rising hundreds of feet into the air support the weathered ceiling. The Keep of Gauntlgrym, the abode of the ancient line of Delzoun kings, is built into the far wall of the cavern, overlooking the city. In the heart of the city stands the great Iron Tabernacle, the holy center of Gauntlgrym.
Thousands of stone and brick buildings are scattered across the cavern floor, but just as many structures are built on wooden platforms suspended from the stone walls. Lanterns and street lamps illuminate the city. Iron bridges cast shadows on the cobblestone streets below. Stone steps and iron ladders built into the walls allow access to the upper levels.
Beneath the city the fires of the Great Forge burn eternally, and dwarves hammer away in the mines in search of gold, silver, and mithral. Beneath the mines is the domain of the drow and the duergar.
The second day of Mirtul in the year 1492
Silver halls and mithral doors
Stone walls to seal the cavern
grander sights than e'ere before
In smithy, mine, and tavern
Toil hard in endless night
In toast, oh, lift your flagon!
Ye'll need the drink to keep you right
At the forge that bakes the dragon.
Come Delzoun, come one and all
Rush to grab yer kin
And tell 'em that their home awaits
In grandest Gauntlgrym!
-The Canticle of Gauntlgrym
It is early spring, and the land surrounding the ancient dwarven stronghold of Gauntlgrym sings with life as the last of winter's snow melts under the noontide sun. It is said that Gauntlgrym's forges are never cold, and the unceasing roar of the Great Forge beneath the city stands testament to the validity of this statement. The heat from the forges rises on the updraft and warms the streets of Gauntlgrym, chasing the last vestiges of winter from the city.
Despite the optimism with which the inhabitants of Gauntlgrym view the future, the stronghold is still recovering from it's war with the drow in 1484. The mines have been reopened, the Iron Tabernacle restored, and the Great Forge rekindled, but a lurking fear has pervaded the hearts of the people of Gauntlgrym. Whispers of a horror below circulate throughout the city, and dismembered corpses are found in the sewers. Fell things shamble in the dungeons and mines beneath the city, and an increasing number of miners have refused to enter the levels beneath the Great Forge. Most unsettling of all, clerics of Moradin claim that the father god has ceased to answer their prayers.
Such are the conditions you find yourselves in this spring morning. Welcome to Gauntlgrym.
Flayr Flameseeker | Genasi/Fire | Wizard/School of Evocation | Level 2 | Custom Campaign: Cold Cash
(Do we already know each other or are we meeting up at some predetermined location?)
Wazzok approaches the stronghold gates, a pack slung over her shoulder carrying almost everything she owns. Her huge muscles ripple where they are visible and if the cold bothers her it doesn't show. Her breath comes out as a plume of steam and when she is within view of the heavy gate doors she sighs with relief and sets her pack down a moment. She takes a few minutes to stretch, then cracks her neck and knuckles before putting her pack on backwards, and strolling up to the gates.
Here goes... She thinks to herself. Bahgtru preseve me, I hope these dwarves don't shoot me where I stand.
Even if there are knockers on the door she will pound on it bare knuckled.
"Hail?! Anyone in there?! I've traveled a long way, through the night, and could use a strong drink!"
~♡~
Wazzok hears a strange low voice from her right, sounding almost like the crunching made by pebbles underfoot.
"Why do you beat against the gate green one? If gates are closed, visitors are unwelcome, yes?"
Turning, Wazzock sees a bald earth genasi sat cross legged amongst the rocks at the side of the entrance, almost appearing as a stone statue with his straight, unwavering posture. His belongings are laid out before him on top of a brown blanket, except for the large bone scimitar slung over his shoulder. His deep green eyes scan the half-orc's face, almost as though they are searching for something.
"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." - Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
Wazzok is caught entirely off guard and almost leaps out of her skin, her hand goes to the hilt of her shortblade and you can see the muscles in her neck tighten.
"By Shargaass's low hanging left nut, what is that?! I mean is you?! I mean... what are you?!"
She relaxes a little bit when the rock man doesn't appear to reach for his blade, and her hands fall to her hips. She meets his gaze, one eyebrow raised as if studying him for a moment. She waits for him to respond.
~♡~
"I am a son of Ogremoch. You seem confused green one. I'm sorry, I have no hanging nuts to feed you." The genasi smiles apologetically.
The earthy man stands and walks out from his rocky resting place, striding over and through the stony terrain as naturally as one would a paved road. He approaches the half-orc and holds his hand out, a smile filling his face that looks like it doesn't quite belonging on such a stoic face.
"I think grasping hands is the correct way to introduce, yes? Others I have seen hold in embrace, if you would prefer?" Again, his eyes scan the half-orc's face knowingly.
"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." - Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
The massive iron gates of Gauntlgrym grind open and a dwarf with an intricately braided black beard strides out, dragging the 50-pound ceremonial axehammer of the Gauntlgrym Watch.
"Right, you lot!" He growls. "What's your business in Gauntlgrym in these godforsaken times?"
Flayr Flameseeker | Genasi/Fire | Wizard/School of Evocation | Level 2 | Custom Campaign: Cold Cash
"You're rather jumpy, aren't you?" A small voice squeaks from behind the two.
A halfling makes her way up to the pair, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail that swishes as she moves. A large grin is plastered on her slightly tanned face. Various weapons are strapped to both her belt and her backpack, the most prominent of them being a bow the size of the tiny woman. Her clothes are worn and the leather chestpeice has multiple scratches marring it, but everything seems well maintained.
She stares up at the two as she stops and places her hands on her hips. "He does blend in with the surroundings, though! Good thing if you ever need to hide." She pauses, looking at the gate and the dwarf opening it. "Hello there! Pleasure to meet you. I'm here to learn about this place."
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
Wazzok takes Brixo's outstretched wrist firmly, with a grip that feels strong even to someone made of stone.
"Well met, Son of Ogremoch. I am Muul the last daughter of the Wazzok clan. You can call me Wazzok, Waz if you run out of time."
Releasing her grip she turns to face the halfling her chin rolling downward as the Cori approached her.
"Ah, and one of the little-folk, erm sorry if that is not the correct term, I don't meant to offend."
She squats down so that she can offer her hand carefully.
"Well met, I am called Wazzok"
Regardless of whether the halfling shakes her hand or not she seems unperturbed, and as the gates rumble open she stands and turns to meet the guard.
"Hail good master dwarf, I am Muul, daughter of Kord of clan Wazzok, and this is Son of Ogremoch, and this here a little halfling lass who just appeared over the horizon I was not sure if you could see her. I have heard of Gauntlgrym's legendary blacksmiths and mythic forge and was hoping to apply to study under the tutelage of one of your master smiths. But it seems that you are troubled, pray tell, what is it that causes you such..." She seems a bit lost, trying to find a bigger word and faltering "er... trouble?"
She's trying her best to seem friendly and amiable and stands there openly, towering over everyone around her except maybe Brixo.
Persuasion : 18
Although she is clearly trying to be charming, her size, and muscles, and orcish nature feel oppressive and menacing, and the stench coming off of her from days of travel wafts toward the dwarf in an almost tangible acrid fog.
~♡~
The earth genasi looks down at the halfling, then over at the dwarf. "I think... " He considers his words for a moment. "That you and I are giants." he says to the half-orc completely serious, nodding his head.
"Although I was not giant before. Strange." He muses. "Bearded one, I come bearing words for your ruler. Very important. Brixo Stonewarden, I am." He spins, arm still outstretched, and approaches the dwarf with that unnatural smile.
"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." - Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
The dwarf grunts and nods in the direction of Gauntlgrym, causing his helm to slip over his eyes.
"Aye, trouble's the word. Stay out of the streets after dark, and don't descend into the mines. Folks are claiming that the dead have risen and Gauntlgrym has been condemned by the gods. Nonsense, in my opinion, but I can't deny that something funny is going on."
Flayr Flameseeker | Genasi/Fire | Wizard/School of Evocation | Level 2 | Custom Campaign: Cold Cash
Cori stands up strait to shake Wazzok's hand. She seems used to the fact that everyone is taller than her. She winks at the half-orc as she says, "You're fine, tall friend."
Her attention then turns to the dwarf guard, and she moves to make sure he could see her. "I've heard of those rumors! It seems a bit extravagant, the whole 'abandoned by gods' part. But you never know! What sort of funny business is going on?"
The ever growing document of character concepts can never be too long, can it?
"Dismembered corpses have been dragged out of the sewers, screaming and moaning can be heard in the mines at night, and unnatural things have been sighted in the streets after dark." The dwarf replies grimly. "It's a bad business, make no mistake."
Flayr Flameseeker | Genasi/Fire | Wizard/School of Evocation | Level 2 | Custom Campaign: Cold Cash
Wazzok thinks about what the dwarf has said.
"Hmpf, has anyone looked into it? In my experience there's little that can't be resolved with enough muscle... or barring that, drink."
She winks at the dwarf.
"Speaking of drink, I could certainly use one while we finish our chat. Is there a tavern nearby?"
~♡~
"I know of what it is you speak. I will have drink with this green one. Send king to me, I will explain all." Brixo says matter-of-factly, with no judgement on proper etiquette when it comes to a king's audience. He picks up his few meagre possessions and heads through the gate, past the other three gathered outside.
He looks over his shoulder, "Where do we drink green one?"
"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." - Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
As the exchange ends, the hawk circling overhead suddenly makes a sharp turn and flies with purpose towards the many manors of the richer section of Gauntlgrym. It dives as it reaches Keep Falrin, swooping into one of the many windows and landing on a central desk in the room. There it sits for a minute before screeching, making the sleeping figure at the desk start. “Dae, you know I hate that, don’t you?” the young woman scolds groggily, brushing her dark red hair back behind her prominent horns. “What could you possibly need this early?” Her head cocks for a second as she seems to listen to a silent report from the bird. “Strangers? I wonder... who would come to the city at a time like this? Perhaps...” She suddenly sits up straight. “Perhaps these people are the ones! Oh, this is good. Very good. But it wouldn’t do to get too excited just yet. Go follow them, and report back to me about what you find. I’ll see what I can do about father.” She stands, tousled hair and wrinkled robes suddenly becoming presentable with a mutter and a flick of her wrist. She moves towards the door as the hawk flies back out over the city, catching sight of the genasi and half-orc as they move towards their pub of choice.
Officially Joined the Expanded Signature Club
Will be on Hiatus: Currently Clear
Assuming the dwarf gives her a tip about which tavern to head to and how to get there, Wazzok will straighten, and stretch her back. Stooping to talk to these smaller folk gives her a kink in her lower back. She will greet anyone she runs into along the way with a sharp-toothed grin, and do her best to appear friendly and amiable. When she arrives at the tavern she opens the door and curses audibly as her forehead nearly crashes into the top of the frame. Undeterred, she hunches over slightly so that she is not in danger of running her head into anything else, and makes her way to the bar to order.
"Good day to you barkeep! A flagon of your finest for my new friends and I!"
She weighs her coin purse in her hand and grimaces.
"Er... how much would a flagon cost me?"
~♡~
At another table you hear an argument reach a peak "For the last time Moradin has abandoned no one the all father still answers my prayers I don't know what's wrong with the clerics here!" As a black haired dwarf sits up from the table and storms to the counter "Give me something hard barkeep"
Brixo approaches the bartender. "This is a fine palace, king. I must speak with you about urgent matters." The earth genasi puts on a serious face.
[OoC] Brixo has no idea how emotions work, he just tries his best to copy what he has seen others do.
"The most important step a person can take is always the next one." - Dalinar Kholin; Oathbringer
"Send Bruenor Battlehammer to you?" The dwarf guard is speechless, and he stares agape as you pass through the mithral doors and emerge into the ancient city of Gauntlgrym.
Stone columns rising hundreds of feet into the air support the weathered ceiling. The Keep of Gauntlgrym, the abode of the ancient line of Delzoun kings, is built into the far wall of the cavern, overlooking the city. In the heart of the city stands the great Iron Tabernacle, the holy center of Gauntlgrym.
Thousands of stone and brick buildings are scattered across the cavern floor, but just as many structures are built on wooden platforms suspended from the stone walls. Lanterns and street lamps illuminate the city. Iron bridges cast shadows on the cobblestone streets below. Stone steps and iron ladders built into the walls allow access to the upper levels.
Beneath the city the fires of the Great Forge burn eternally, and dwarves hammer away in the mines in search of gold, silver, and mithral. Beneath the mines is the domain of the drow and the duergar.
Flayr Flameseeker | Genasi/Fire | Wizard/School of Evocation | Level 2 | Custom Campaign: Cold Cash