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What's the problem? Gauntlets of strength, bull's strength, and the feat of strength all give enhancement bonuses to Strength, and thus don't stack with each other. Righteous might gives a +4 size bonus to Strength (where'd you get +8 from?), which does stack with the enhancement bonuses. -Will

Hargrim of Clan Joterhun is a wild hurricane of whirling axes. Blood flies all about as he howls in rage at the cruelty of the orcs and lays into his enemies. He may not live through the night -- perhaps none of them will -- but, by the great Muamman Duathal, if he is to die this night, he...

Kemble scratches his head and looks at the dwarf. "The left what?" he asks. "Let's just move onward and see what we can see." With that, the little halfling creeps down the southern passage, keeping his eyes and ears wide open.

Hargrim tries to keep the orcs from surrounding him and lashes out with both axes, tasting blood. Tries to 5-foot step his way out of being flanked, if possible/necessary. In any case, full-attacks the orcs surrounding him. HP: 26 AC: 18 +1 handaxe and masterwork handaxe (full attack): +6/+6...

Hargrim watches the orcs approach. "Come on, you ugly, vicious bastards," he spits. He howls again, in orcish, "Come on!" Readies an attack against the first orc to enter melee range. HP: 32 AC: 18 Atk vs. Orcs: +1 handaxe (attack): +7 (+3 base, +2 Str, +1 enhancement, +1 racial), 1d6+3...

Kemble watches Chance run off and scratches his head sadly. Great, he thinks to himself, now they'll expect me to be their trapspringer. The halfling creeps softly southward, wishing he'd paid more attention to his grandfather when he'd tried to teach Kemble about the workings of trap mechanisms.

AmorFati, how many orcs are we looking at here? Thanks :) -Will

Kemble's shoulders slump as he looks despondently at the corpse of the slain creature. "Well, that was no fun," he pouts. Then he remembers the roper's earlier distraction. "I wonder if there's anything down there...?" he says softly, moving quietly down the passage. Hide +9, Move Silently +7

"Balin!" bellows the dwarf. "We need you out here, old one!" He looks around for Brin. "Get your townsfolk to safety, Sheriff!"

Hargrim shoots Zyrial a sharp glance before rushing out of the inn, axes at the ready, to see what is the matter.

Hargrim, weary and battle-worn, goes over strategies, tactics, and defense plans with Sheriff Brin and his men until the wee hours of the morning. He is tired, but hardy; he is a dwarf, trained and strong. And with luck, the people of Goodland will be safe and secure long enough for him and...

AmorFati, Can we assume that since Hargrim's a trained fighter, he can help the people of Goodland prepare some rudimentary defenses? I think if I came up with details myself it would just seem forced. I'm not even good at Warcraft. ;) -Will

AmorFati, Very sorry about this -- I just realized that even though I paid for two +2 short swords, I only listed them in my attack summary as +1 short swords. I've fixed it now. -Will

"How exciting!" breathes Kemble. "I've heard about those things, but never seen one before...it's like a stone tooth come to life...!" He grins at Donedal. "I've got some fire in a bottle," he whispers, patting his pack. "Do you think it'll help?" OOC: Don't we need to make Knowledge...

Kemble rushes up to the strange statue and stares at it, his eyes wide with fascination. "I wonder what it's supposed to be..."

"Cautious, schmautious. Let's get on with it already!" Kemble sighs, tapping his foot impatiently. He looks at the statue hungrily.

Hargrim stares at the newcomer for a long moment, and then takes a sip of his ale. "Well, Nyra," he says, "we've as little reason to trust you as we did the halfling." The dwarf glances at Zyrial and Bailn. "But if you can help us take care of those orcs that are threatening this town, you're...

Kemble pokes through the bones, looking for anything interesting.

Kemble shivers as Ionna speaks. Something about her voice always does that to him; it's uncomfortable. As the others creep forward, Kemble brings up the rear of the party, keeping a watchful eye for any dangers from behind that might try to catch them by surprise. Spot +10, Listen +12, Move...

Well, good job so far, Verbatim. :) Poor Hargrim...over 50 years old and still gets called a "youngling"...lousy humans. ;) -Will