AGFlynn
First Post
Cludge Slatefist (Pending level up approval for 3)
	
	
	
		
Appearance: A broad and thickly muscled dwarf, Cludge is unconsciously forceful 
and overbearing but quite pleasant and amiable.
He prefers shouting and barking orders to just about anything else.
The word "negotiate" is not in his vocabulary.
[sblock=Background] Cludge's parents were members of a very entrepreneurial clan in the Northern Mountains and decided to start a caravan venture to transport human goods to the dwarves and vice-versa. The business went well for a few years, but eventually they came to financial ruin when it was learned the his uncle Modr had absconded with virtually all of the profits. Disgraced, the family had to go work for other people as (shame!) hired
labourers. Cludge wanted none of this, so joined a local militia. After about a year of volunteer service (no active combat) the unit was disbanded. None of the soldiers were paid. So, Cludge, being of generally optimistic demeanour decided to go into business for himself. He pooled his remaining resources, bought a mule, a pickaxe, some buckets and a tent and headed into the mountains. After all, a dwarf is a natural at finding gold and iron....or not. When his claim (purchased with just about the last silver to his name) turned out to be mostly dust, he headed into town to see what work he could find...
*blurry dissolve to the past* The Slatefist family wearily pulls its three empty wagons into the crowded forecourt of the grand cavern, grimy with dust from the road to the human lands. Cludge groggily lifts his head from his chest, waking from a semi-nap. Glad to be home at last, he drops down from his seat and plants his feet gratefully on stone. With a silent prayer to Azwan, he stretches his aching back, nodding to passersby. A few shoot the family odd looks as they hurry by.
What's up with them? Cludge wonders aloud.
Dunno, answers his brother Glaum. P'raps they din't get ale with breakfast.
Pushing through the crowd, Cludge's Aunt Fleat hurriedly approaches the family.
Krakut, she says breathlessly. Oh, Krakut. Something terrible has happened...
Cludge's grey-bearded father, a massive old dwarf with an enourmous pendulous belly, gives a last tug on the hobble secured to one of the dray ponies. What's wrong, Fleat? he says, straightening in alarm. His wife Sautre hurries to his side.
It's terrible, just terrible, Fleat stammers. Its Modr...
Modr? says Krakut. Is he dead? Is he hurt?
Worse, says Fleat. He's left. He's scarpered. Krakut... she hesitates. He's taken it all. Everything. The gold, the silver, the mithril bars that was to be shipped... Oh, it's terrible, brother!
Krakut stands staring. Everything? he says dazedly, staring into the distance.
We're ruined... whispers Sautre.
Cludge and Glaum step forward, bristling. He's WHAT? roars Cludge. I'LL TEAR THE BASTARD'S BEARD FROM HIS FACE AND FEED IT TO HIM!
Modr, hisses Glaum. I always knowed he was wrong in the head.
Whatever will we do? says Sautre. Krakut. Everything we had - gone! Your brother has made us poor.
Modr, says Krakut, staring into space, a look of pure shock on his weather-beaten face.
Cludge looks around at the now-quiet Grand Hall. In every face he sees pity, embarrassment. His anger burns, but it is also tinged now with shame...
I will find him, father, he fumes. My uncle will rue the day he stole from our family....
*blurry dissolve back to the present*
[/sblock]
[sblock=Tracking for current campaign - Sairunadan]
A Sojourn in Sairunadan
Paid for in party funds:
Transport: Cost Weight
Warhorse, Light 0gp -lb
Saddle, Military 0gp 30lb
[/sblock]
				
			
		Code:
	
	[B]Name:[/B] Cludge Slatefist
[B]Class:[/B] Fighter
[B]Race:[/B] Dwarf
[B]Size:[/B] Medium
[B]Gender:[/B] Male
[B]Alignment:[/B] Lawful Good
[B]Deity:[/B] Azwan
[B]Str:[/B] 18 +4 (16p.)     [B]Level:[/B] 3        [B]XP:[/B] 3502
[B]Dex:[/B] 10 +0 (2p.)     [B]BAB:[/B] +3         [B]HP:[/B] 34 (3d10+9)
[B]Con:[/B] 16 +3 (6p.)     [B]Grapple:[/B] +7     [B]Dmg Red:[/B] 0/0
[B]Int:[/B] 8 -1 (0p.)     [B]Speed:[/B] 20'      [B]Spell Res:[/B] 0
[B]Wis:[/B] 8 -1 (0p.)     [B]Init:[/B] +0        [B]Spell Save:[/B] +2
[B]Cha:[/B] 12 +1 (6p.)     [B]ACP:[/B] -5         [B]Spell Fail:[/B] 0%
                   [B]Base  Armor Shld   Dex  Size   Nat  Misc  Total[/B]
[B]Armor:[/B]              10    +5    +0    +0    +0    +0    +0    15
[B]Touch:[/B] 10              [B]Flatfooted:[/B] 15
                         [B]Base   Mod  Misc  Total[/B]
[B]Fort:[/B]                      3    +3          +6
[B]Ref:[/B]                       1    +0          +1
[B]Will:[/B]                      1    -1          +0
[B]Weapon                  Attack   Damage     Critical[/B]
Greatsword                +8     2d6+6     19-20x2
Sling                     +3     1d4+4    20x2
[B]Languages:[/B] Common, Dwarven
[B]Abilities:[/B] Dwarven traits 
[B]Feats:[/B] Power Attack, Weapon Focus Greatsword, Cleave, Endurance
[B]Skill Points:[/B] 6       [B]Max Ranks:[/B] 6/3
[B]Skills                   Ranks  Mod  Misc  Total[/B]
Intimidate                    4    +1          +5
Jump                          1    +4    -5    +0
Climb                         1    +4    -5    +0
  
[B]Equipment:               Cost  Weight[/B]
Greatsword               50gp    8lb
Chain mail               150gp  40lb
Sling                     0gp    0lb
Bullets (20)              2sp   10lb
Backpack                  2gp    2lb
Bedroll                   1sp    5lb
Blanket                   5sp    3lb
Candle                    1cp    0lb
Crowbar                   2gp    5lb
Grappling hook            1gp    4lb
Pitons x4                 4sp    2lb
Pouch                     1gp  0.5lb
Rations (1 day) x4        2gp    4lb
Rope (50', hempen)        1gp   10lb
Flint and steel           1gp    0lb
Chalk                     1cp    0lb
Waterskin                 1gp    4lb
Whetstone                 2cp    1lb
Sacks x2                  2sp    1lb
Torches x2                2cp    2lb
[B]Total Weight:[/B]101.5lb      [B]Money:[/B] 362gp 2sp 8cp
                           [B]Lgt  Med      Hvy     Lift  Push[/B]
[B]Max Weight:[/B]         100 lb. 101-200  201-300 600   1500
[B]Age:[/B] 42
[B]Height:[/B] 4'3"
[B]Weight:[/B] 210lb
[B]Eyes:[/B] Black
[B]Hair:[/B] Black
[B]Skin:[/B] Tannedand overbearing but quite pleasant and amiable.
He prefers shouting and barking orders to just about anything else.
The word "negotiate" is not in his vocabulary.
[sblock=Background] Cludge's parents were members of a very entrepreneurial clan in the Northern Mountains and decided to start a caravan venture to transport human goods to the dwarves and vice-versa. The business went well for a few years, but eventually they came to financial ruin when it was learned the his uncle Modr had absconded with virtually all of the profits. Disgraced, the family had to go work for other people as (shame!) hired
labourers. Cludge wanted none of this, so joined a local militia. After about a year of volunteer service (no active combat) the unit was disbanded. None of the soldiers were paid. So, Cludge, being of generally optimistic demeanour decided to go into business for himself. He pooled his remaining resources, bought a mule, a pickaxe, some buckets and a tent and headed into the mountains. After all, a dwarf is a natural at finding gold and iron....or not. When his claim (purchased with just about the last silver to his name) turned out to be mostly dust, he headed into town to see what work he could find...
*blurry dissolve to the past* The Slatefist family wearily pulls its three empty wagons into the crowded forecourt of the grand cavern, grimy with dust from the road to the human lands. Cludge groggily lifts his head from his chest, waking from a semi-nap. Glad to be home at last, he drops down from his seat and plants his feet gratefully on stone. With a silent prayer to Azwan, he stretches his aching back, nodding to passersby. A few shoot the family odd looks as they hurry by.
What's up with them? Cludge wonders aloud.
Dunno, answers his brother Glaum. P'raps they din't get ale with breakfast.
Pushing through the crowd, Cludge's Aunt Fleat hurriedly approaches the family.
Krakut, she says breathlessly. Oh, Krakut. Something terrible has happened...
Cludge's grey-bearded father, a massive old dwarf with an enourmous pendulous belly, gives a last tug on the hobble secured to one of the dray ponies. What's wrong, Fleat? he says, straightening in alarm. His wife Sautre hurries to his side.
It's terrible, just terrible, Fleat stammers. Its Modr...
Modr? says Krakut. Is he dead? Is he hurt?
Worse, says Fleat. He's left. He's scarpered. Krakut... she hesitates. He's taken it all. Everything. The gold, the silver, the mithril bars that was to be shipped... Oh, it's terrible, brother!
Krakut stands staring. Everything? he says dazedly, staring into the distance.
We're ruined... whispers Sautre.
Cludge and Glaum step forward, bristling. He's WHAT? roars Cludge. I'LL TEAR THE BASTARD'S BEARD FROM HIS FACE AND FEED IT TO HIM!
Modr, hisses Glaum. I always knowed he was wrong in the head.
Whatever will we do? says Sautre. Krakut. Everything we had - gone! Your brother has made us poor.
Modr, says Krakut, staring into space, a look of pure shock on his weather-beaten face.
Cludge looks around at the now-quiet Grand Hall. In every face he sees pity, embarrassment. His anger burns, but it is also tinged now with shame...
I will find him, father, he fumes. My uncle will rue the day he stole from our family....
*blurry dissolve back to the present*
[/sblock]
[sblock=Tracking for current campaign - Sairunadan]
A Sojourn in Sairunadan
Paid for in party funds:
Transport: Cost Weight
Warhorse, Light 0gp -lb
Saddle, Military 0gp 30lb
[/sblock]
			
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