Player: Player 10
Species: Dwarf
Class: Cleric of Pelor
A bearded dwarf, at least until the ritual burned the beard away. He wears a helm of comprehending languages.
Veins of Silver Fire
Session 2: Trapped, Not Missing
- The lift: at the first collapsed side shaft he read the stone as any dwarf could: something had dug underneath and brought the rock down. A falling stone clocked him on the head on the way up.
- The burrowers: he felt outward through the stone in every direction and knew the beasts were coming before they burst through the walls.
- Forge: he put on his helm and understood the wounded Azer’s words: Peace. I mean you no harm.
- The ritual platform: two thrown tridents struck him down before he could raise his hand. Blackadder forced a potion down his throat, and after a brief glimpse of his god he was back on his feet. He called up Pelor’s guardians, smiling suns that wheeled around him, and poured healing over the party and the chained Azer alike. The last salamander died full of holes from his suns.
- The circle: Forge spoke to him, as the one wearing the helm, and took him to the altar. He held the circle with Blackadder and Forge until the elemental was gone. Where’s my beard?
Attendance Log
- Session 2: Trapped, Not Missing 2026-09-12