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March 9, 2004

Rosorc's Bio

Rosorc's Journal XPCs

Rosorc, image (c) Kristin Johnson
Greetings. As you don’t 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 Smith’s youngest son I was not of any wealth or prestige. Seeing my older brothers’ 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 life’s 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 can’t 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 at 15:59 | Rosorc’s Journal | XPCs


William's Journal

I waited patiently for a bit, but after a while of just standing there I asked if we could get moving again. At first there was no response, but soon enough the hall cleared out and I found myself walking down a flight of stairs. I heard someone mention about a room filled with crushed bones. This didn’t seem to bother anyone else but me, so I waited in the doorway and looked around for the glow of any magic items with that one very useful spell detect magic. I love that spell, comes in very handy. Noticing that there was nothing of interest in the room we moved on.

The next room seemed to have a story played out. There was a robed figure, much like a mage, pinned to the wall with a bastard sword. Apparently dead for some time now. On the floor not too far away was another figure, this one dressed in armor. This person had a bow, a shield and an empty scabbard. Now I noticed, upon entering, the statues of mages lining both sides of this room. Each one appeared to be in the middle of casting a different spell. Try as I might I couldn’t figure out just what was being cast. After taking everything of value we moved on.

Tassar was being impatient, and moving ahead fell into a pit trap. Deitricha decided to go after him. It took us a while to get them out. Tassar still impatient tried to jump, but being so small only made it back into the pit again. We got him out and Theona, with a rope around her waist, jumped to the other side. This is where I lost interest for about a minute. The next thing I knew I heard combat from the other side. Being so far back I could only stand there. After a bit I was able to see enough to get off a spell, but it wasn’t enough. Tassar, who had apparently found a way across, went down just after Theona was yanked back across the pit trap by Areon. Theona quickly wedged the trap shut, showing she thinks better under pressure, and off Deitricha went to save Tassar. That’s when I got a good look at the enemy. I wasn’t sure if they were constructs or undead so I tried a disruption spell on one to no effect. After that all I could do was attempt to do actual damage. All my spells missed. All except for the last one that is. That one accidentally hit Tassar. I apologized but I don’t think he heard me because after the constructs fell he turned on me so fast no one could stop him. It was totally uncalled for and we’re going to have a discussion about it soon. One he won’t forget.

Posted by Fred at 20:11 | William’s Journal