(IC) Quickleaf's Rime of the Frostmaiden

[Neurotic]

"We are, were, rescue party! We got three wayward adventurers off the Cairn. They are going the safer way. We have a killer to catch so we're rushing. You may know Garret of Targos! We are open to the search if you insist, but we need to go through before the storm hits! Please!

And we lessen the shouting?! Let us closer at least! You three have us in sights! I am Lumrolur Vorhoc Bufflestone, a guide around these parts!"
Lumrolur (not so) subtly informs his group of the guards he can see. He stands up in full view and lowers his hood so the dwarves can see his distinctive features. It's not like there are many deep gnomes around and he is recognizable even if one saw him only once.
Of course, these isolationists dwarves may never have seen him or heard of him.

 

[Necropolitan]

Zeth palms his face in exasperation as Lumrolur gives away far too much information, then panics mildly as he realizes how few of his traveling companions are tall enough to offer cover if the locals start shooting at them. He chooses to stand behind Alma.

Was it so much to ask to expect party members of sufficient height to take an arrow for him? Zeth realizes that line of thought should probably be cut off and instead decides to add his own expertise.

While he wasn't fluent in Dwarvish he surely knew enough from what he'd picked up from family members and Dwarven contacts to communicate that they meant no harm, right? Speaking Dwarvish to them should hopefully calm things down.

Zeth calls out to the Dwarves in Dwarvish:

OOC: Persuasion check: 1D20+5 = [1]+5 = 6

"(We're beard-burners in search of kindling!)"

 

[happylace]

Alma is happy to let Lumrolur take the lead in the conversation. He seems like he knows what he's doing. Though it doesn't escape her notice when Zeth slips behind her. She doesn't know what he says. Another language. Dwarvish would make sense, since he's shouting it.

All the same, she begins to channel the innate magic within her, humming below the surface like the anticipation of prey watching predator. She shifts her stance, getting ready to bolt forward if things go south. She needs an extra ten feet, but she won't take it just yet. Zeth, being closer, might just catch the faintest whiff of sulfur when the wind blows.

Alma readies Calm Emotions using a sorcery point for Subtle Spell.

 

[Quickleaf]

GM POST

"We are, were, rescue party! We got three wayward adventurers off the Cairn. They are going the safer way. We have a killer to catch so we're rushing. You may know Garret of Targos! We are open to the search if you insist, but we need to go through before the storm hits! Please!

And we lessen the shouting?! Let us closer at least! You three have us in sights! I am Lumrolur Vorhoc Bufflestone, a guide around these parts!"
Lumrolur (not so) subtly informs his group of the guards he can see. He stands up in full view and lowers his hood so the dwarves can see his distinctive features. It's not like there are many deep gnomes around and he is recognizable even if one saw him only once.
Of course, these isolationists dwarves may never have seen him or heard of him.

Zeth palms his face in exasperation as Lumrolur gives away far too much information, then panics mildly as he realizes how few of his traveling companions are tall enough to offer cover if the locals start shooting at them. He chooses to stand behind Alma.

Was it so much to ask to expect party members of sufficient height to take an arrow for him? Zeth realizes that line of thought should probably be cut off and instead decides to add his own expertise.

While he wasn't fluent in Dwarvish he surely knew enough from what he'd picked up from family members and Dwarven contacts to communicate that they meant no harm, right? Speaking Dwarvish to them should hopefully calm things down.

Zeth calls out to the Dwarves in Dwarvish:

OOC: Persuasion check: 1D20+5 = [1]+5 = 6

"(We're beard-burners in search of kindling!)"

“Wayward indeed! Thats the trouble with adventuresome types - always getting into the business of others, afore tending to their own bootstraps need buckling. And now you’ve a blizzard at your backs, eh? Alright, approach slowly to thirty paces away, Bufflestone and company. Slowly, as if the valley’s eye were upon you.” The surly dwarf remarks with an undercurrent of wry appreciation for the irony of your situation. Rescuers now themselves imperiled.

Aside to his fellows, the Dwarf whispers in Dwarvish. Anyone who knows Dwarvish and has passive Perception 13 or higher (OOC: usually I’d check but computer woes) can make out whispers among them: <“That’s a deep gnome, eh? Aye, two gnomes and a goblin by the looks of them. Oh, gnomes are alright, we hired one from Ten-Towns when I was boy. Good trap makers. Aye, and gnomes can appreciate good ale. Goblins though, can’t hold their liquor and smell worse than Baerick’s unwashed beard. Oh, hoh, then you’ve never had goblin Gnerglbleck - that’ll put you on your arse faster than a blizzard can take your toes.”>

However, upon hearing Zeth’s Dwarvish greeting, a stupefied expression is visible amidst his long white beard. Calling down in Common, he cries out, shaking his crossbow, “By Moradin’s snow balls, you cheeky son of a… And I’m a pin-maker in search of cushions! If you need to make a fire, go drive your sled into a volcano!”

Any of you familiar with Dwarvish will realize Zeth has initiated a Dolrok Dugenan, a Duel of Swaggering Beards. Whoever runs out of comebacks must acquiesce to the others’ will. These have been known to go on for hours or days, at least according to dwarven braggarts at the tavern.

 

[Aethmud]

Jack watches the exchange unfold with a mix of concern and amusement, the corners of his mouth twitching when he sees the expression on the dwarf guard's face upon hearing Zeth's inopportune choice of words, incomprehensible to Jack. Clearing his throat, his voice smooth and reassuring, laced with a hint of his usual playful charm, Jack stands and then flutters up and forward, slightly in front of Zeth and Alma, his posture relaxed yet confident, the faint glow of his fairy wings casting a soft light in the dim.

"Esteemed sentinels of Clan Battlehammer, forgive our sudden appearance and the ill-chosen jest of my companion. We come with no ill intent, merely pressing urgency under the looming threat of the storm. Our comrade Lumrolur speaks true of our purpose and haste."

Hands open in a conciliatory gesture, and then pointedly looking toward the whiteout approaching from the north, Jack continues, "With a blizzard breathing down our necks, we've little leisure for a volley of barbs, however spirited." His voice carries a lighthearted tone, in an attempt to ease the tension.

Spoiler: Persuasion skill check

Persuasion skill check: 15, attempt to defuse tensions with dwarven guard after Zeth's insult.

He adds, with a slight chuckle, "You wouldn't happen to know of any paths to any underground volcanoes, or perhaps a cozy lava pool, tucked away nearby? Let us press on, and you can return to the warmth of your hearth and make preparations for the blizzard that much swifter."

 

[Quickleaf]

GM POST

Jack watches the exchange unfold with a mix of concern and amusement, the corners of his mouth twitching when he sees the expression on the dwarf guard's face upon hearing Zeth's inopportune choice of words, incomprehensible to Jack. Clearing his throat, his voice smooth and reassuring, laced with a hint of his usual playful charm, Jack stands and then flutters up and forward, slightly in front of Zeth and Alma, his posture relaxed yet confident, the faint glow of his fairy wings casting a soft light in the dim.

"Esteemed sentinels of Clan Battlehammer, forgive our sudden appearance and the ill-chosen jest of my companion. We come with no ill intent, merely pressing urgency under the looming threat of the storm. Our comrade Lumrolur speaks true of our purpose and haste."

Hands open in a conciliatory gesture, and then pointedly looking toward the whiteout approaching from the north, Jack continues, "With a blizzard breathing down our necks, we've little leisure for a volley of barbs, however spirited." His voice carries a lighthearted tone, in an attempt to ease the tension.

Spoiler: Persuasion skill check

Persuasion skill check: 15, attempt to defuse tensions with dwarven guard after Zeth's insult.

He adds, with a slight chuckle, "You wouldn't happen to know of any paths to any underground volcanoes, or perhaps a cozy lava pool, tucked away nearby? Let us press on, and you can return to the warmth of your hearth and make preparations for the blizzard that much swifter."

Upon fluttering up closer to the battlements, Jack can make out that the white-bearded dwarf is backed up by two of his fellows, who quickly take to whispering in Dwarvish as if speculating about what sort of creature Jack might be.

Still ill-tempered after Zeth's scathing words, the dwarf keeps his crossbow at the ready and regards Jack dubiously. "Jest, eh? Well looks like the joke's on you. We're sitting fine to tide out the blizzard. We have before, isn't that right? Blizzard sounds like a you problem." The other two dwarves murmur in agreement, beginning to trade what would surely be long-winded anecdotes before the white-bearded dwarf silences them with a hard stare.

"Well, I'd be happy to direct you right into the fireplace, wee frost sprite," he adds with a gleam in his eye, "but I'll be hearing an apology in my own language...or not at all." He motions with his crossbow toward Zeth.

GM: Jack (with his passive Insight proficiency) can gather that something about the manner in which you approached the dwarves has this dwarf irritated – and it goes deeper than Zeth's unfortunate Dwarvish phrasing. However, your honeyed words aren't enough to dissuade the dwarves. If Zeth or someone else speaking Dwarvish wishes to speak and make a Persuasion check, however, Jack's diplomatic overture will give Advantage.

 

[VLAD the Destroyer]

OOC: Been sick the past 24 hours. I will get a post up soon I promise. Can barely concentrate now and need to get some sleep.

 

[VLAD the Destroyer]

Logrim looks aghast when he hears Zeth's insult. At the response from the sentry he has a slight glimmer of hope but that is dashed when Jack interjects. The artificer move up next to Zeth and speaks softly.

"Mister Zeth you should be more careful when talking to dwarves. You almost initiated a insult battle. The stakes on that if you lost would have been dire."

Logrim then steps forward into view of the sentries. He then speaks in dwarvish.

"(Good sir I apologize for the words of my companion. To be quite frank I do not believe he even understands your tongue and merely repeated something he heard in a tavern one time. As for me I am no stranger, I am Logrim Romwod. I have visited with Clan Battlehammer in the past. My uncle Jorlen Romwod does trade with clan outposts throughout the Dale. I had the pleasure of joining him several summers back and the Battlehammer hospitality was always to be commended.)"

Logrim pauses for a second to see if his words are having any affect before continuing.

"(I know the hour is late and our arrival is unexpected but we are only looking to pass through the valley and avoid the worst of the blizzard.)"

OOC: Persuasion w/ advantage: 2d20k1+3 17

 

[Quickleaf]

GM POST

Logrim looks aghast when he hears Zeth's insult. At the response from the sentry he has a slight glimmer of hope but that is dashed when Jack interjects. The artificer move up next to Zeth and speaks softly.

"Mister Zeth you should be more careful when talking to dwarves. You almost initiated a insult battle. The stakes on that if you lost would have been dire."

Logrim then steps forward into view of the sentries. He then speaks in dwarvish.

"(Good sir I apologize for the words of my companion. To be quite frank I do not believe he even understands your tongue and merely repeated something he heard in a tavern one time. As for me I am no stranger, I am Logrim Romwod. I have visited with Clan Battlehammer in the past. My uncle Jorlen Romwod does trade with clan outposts throughout the Dale. I had the pleasure of joining him several summers back and the Battlehammer hospitality was always to be commended.)"

Logrim pauses for a second to see if his words are having any affect before continuing.

"(I know the hour is late and our arrival is unexpected but we are only looking to pass through the valley and avoid the worst of the blizzard.)"

OOC: Persuasion w/ advantage: 2d20k1+3 17

Whiskers of his beard bristling in the gusts of wind, the dwarf weighs Logrim's words carefully. He leans his ear to listen to some of the advice from the other two chatty dwarves manning the lonesome outpost, nodding sagely. <"Aye, aye, that must have been it,"> he hesitantly agrees in the Dwarvish language, all the while casting a bushy-browed dubious look toward Zeth.

<"Jorlen's nephew, you say? Well, if you've your uncle's talent, then the Dain will want to meet with you."> After a moment he unstrings his crossbow and rests it casually against his shoulder. Taking the cue, the other two dwarves amble forward, revealing their positions and likewise shouldering their crossbows, looking down curiously at your sled.

Switching back to the Common tongue, he motions to a lower landing of the outpost where he'll meet you down below. "Very well, Bufflestone, Romwod, and company, welcome to the Dwarven Valley." Trudging down the frosty stairs, the dwarf is hardly so tall as he seemed up on the battlements, standing four-and-a-half feet tall. "I'm Brydum Black Axe, and let it never be said my clan turned away gnomes in their hour of need," he vaguely hints with a sly look towards Zeth that insofar as the rest of you the jury may still be out.

The other two dwarves amble down, even shorter than Brydum, murmuring in broken Common as they look your strange company up and down, pet the dogs, and one trudges up to Alma and Jack to offer them a sip of some dwarven hard liquor to "keep the chill at bay."

"Eh, eh, eh, enough of that. This isn't an elven tea party!" Grumbles Brydum at the other two amicable dwarves. "Come along, I'll take you to Battlehammer Hold," he gestures right (to the west), "while you two get back to your watch duty." He looks pointedly at the other two dwarves who circle your sled like curious children.

 

[happylace]

GM POST

Whiskers of his beard bristling in the gusts of wind, the dwarf weighs Logrim's words carefully. He leans his ear to listen to some of the advice from the other two chatty dwarves manning the lonesome outpost, nodding sagely. <"Aye, aye, that must have been it,"> he hesitantly agrees in the Dwarvish language, all the while casting a bushy-browed dubious look toward Zeth.

<"Jorlen's nephew, you say? Well, if you've your uncle's talent, then the Dain will want to meet with you."> After a moment he unstrings his crossbow and rests it casually against his shoulder. Taking the cue, the other two dwarves amble forward, revealing their positions and likewise shouldering their crossbows, looking down curiously at your sled.

Switching back to the Common tongue, he motions to a lower landing of the outpost where he'll meet you down below. "Very well, Bufflestone, Romwod, and company, welcome to the Dwarven Valley." Trudging down the frosty stairs, the dwarf is hardly so tall as he seemed up on the battlements, standing four-and-a-half feet tall. "I'm Brydum Black Axe, and let it never be said my clan turned away gnomes in their hour of need," he vaguely hints with a sly look towards Zeth that insofar as the rest of you the jury may still be out.

The other two dwarves amble down, even shorter than Brydum, murmuring in broken Common as they look your strange company up and down, pet the dogs, and one trudges up to Alma and Jack to offer them a sip of some dwarven hard liquor to "keep the chill at bay."

"Eh, eh, eh, enough of that. This isn't an elven tea party!" Grumbles Brydum at the other two amicable dwarves. "Come along, I'll take you to Battlehammer Hold," he gestures right (to the west), "while you two get back to your watch duty." He looks pointedly at the other two dwarves who circle your sled like curious children.

Alma relaxes her posture as the tension ebbs. Whatever Logrim said seems to have cleaned up the mess. She casts a dubious look over her shoulder towards Zeth, but doesn't comment. When the other dwarves approach, offering liquor, it occurs to her that it's considered rude to refuse drinks from a host. "Thank you. My name is Alma Ostergaard." She holds a hand out for the flask, and, if they offer, takes a swig.