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Rosorc’s Bio

Rosorc’s Journal XPCs

Rosorc, image (c) Kristin Johnson
Greetings. As you donít know me yet let me spin you a yarn. As the knot on my brow is pulsing I will try to get it right. Damn that pain again........ Oh I must have passed out I do apologize. What a dwarf would give for an ale!

Fifty-eight years ago I was born in the great Citadel Adbar. Being a Iron Smithís youngest son I was not of any wealth or prestige. Seeing my older brothersí love of the forge I realized young that my place was elsewhere. Anywhere else would definitely do. At a ripe young age of 35 I, Rosorc Ironfeld, wandered out of the citadel one day (leaving my glorious job of hauling coal far, so very far behind).

Oops am I nodding out again... What is that damn throb in my head coming from? Oh yeah, back to the tale. Leaving the great citadel out the back entrance, to, well, no fanfare at all, I started my great trek to anywhere else. My life savings jangling at my side and newly acquired travel gear strapped to my back I wandered off down the road of life.

Bright eyed and unworldly as I was, soon my lifeís fortune had traveled much farther than I had. Seems someone else needed it more.....

Where was I again? Was that a noise? I wish I could reach my axe. Anyways an ale would be great. Frothy, thick, and warm in the gullet..... Sorry I seem to be rambling again.

Soon I found myself hiring out as a caravan guard, traveling back and forth from the Silver Marches to the Sword Coast. Finding my true calling this way in the Savage Frontier. My axe became notched many times on the skulls of kobolds and other unmentionables. Speaking of skulls why does mine seem to be splitting?

Years seemed to melt away and I grew bored in my duties as a guard.

Feeling the greater call of adventure and fortune I decided to join an ill-fated adventuring party. I should have known by the stupid name we were doomed from the start. Who calls themselves the Bumbling Beatknicks? Seems I still am learning this worldly thing.

At first things seemed promising. We scored some loot. Partied a lot though and we and our loot soon parted. Thick and frothy..... Anyways we got a tip of some serious goodies and headed off....

Here the story gets foggy. Tillimore fell first. Seems elves are partial to arrows. Just not sticking through their gullet in multiples.

Krag stumbled shortly after as we ran, arrows taking out his knees. His screams behind us were heart wrenching as we ran on. Maria fell last. Her spell of invisibility failed and they were upon her mobbing her and dragging her to the ground.

Eyes slick with blood: some my own, some of others I ran on into the night. Growing weaker and more confused I ran and ran. Base instinct told me I needed to hide and recover my strength. Staggering blindly I found a strange structure.....

This, it seems, is where I blacked out. A large amount of time must have passed as when I awoke I was very stiff, hungry, and where is my flask? I know I had a few flasks left. Oh yeah and very thirsty. Seems whereever I am I pulled something very heavy on myself and canít seem to get free. Luckily my pack is still near and full of .... Ughh!!... road rations and water. What is that damn noise?

Maybe just a little nap before I continue. Maybe my head will stop pounding and I will remember where I put those flasks.....

Character sheet: Rosorc Ironfeld [Shield Dwarf Fighter]

Cause of death: Okay, not really dead, just decided it was better to wander the countryside with 8 hit points than to spend another moment with the party.

Posted by Erik on March 9, 2004, 15:59 | Rosorc’s Journal | XPCs