Jul 2, 2025 8:31 pm
Legolas
Grusk's jaw tightened as Legolas spoke, his hand flexing around the haft of the battleaxe like it might splinter under the strain. The half-orc's eyes flared with a mixture of indignation and deep frustration, his tusks protruding slightly as he ground his teeth.
"Assume ownership?" Grusk snapped, voice low but taut with building fury. "I bought this forge. Paid for it with coin, blood, and the last shreds of my patience dealing with Waterdeep’s stuffed-shirt bureaucrats. I own every brick, every bolt, every damn anvil beneath my boots. And now you're telling me some... ghost in a tin suit thinks otherwise?"
He stood, the crate creaking as it scraped the floor, battleaxe now loose in his hand but not yet raised. His shoulders heaved as he paced once, twice, jaw working, weighing the implications.
"Hell, I don’t give a damn if Hornrock’s soul's rattling around inside a walking kettle," he growled. "but I own that forge. I own everything in it. I bought it fair—his failure to stay alive long enough to sign the paperwork isn't my godsdamned problem. And I’ll tell you what else—ain't no lich, no cursed thing, gonna squat in my basement whisperin’ madness and spittin’ talk of ownership. I bought this place to build it back up, not play host to some wretched soul stuffed in brass!"
Legolas, hearing Grusk’s heated words and seeing the determined grip on the axe, wisely decides it's time to separate himself from this mess entirely. His shoulders relax slightly as he realizes — thank the forest spirits — he never accepted a single coin of advance payment for this job. No money, no contracts tying him to the fallout. Just rumors, dangers, and simmering tempers soon to boil over.
Without a word, he turns on his heel, slipping through the door like smoke on the wind. He moves swiftly through the busy streets of Waterdeep, leaving behind the forge, the cursed construct, and Grusk’s inevitable confrontation.
By the time the stone streets give way to the familiar greenery of the Emerald Enclave’s groves, Legolas’s stride is lighter. He finds Melannor Fellbranch tending to the trees, the old druid’s knowing eyes lifting to meet his with a smile.
But @GreyWord, feel free to lurk around in the OOC thread in this adventure and/or post something in the Tiny Tavern. I feel that Zyra will catch up with Legolas as soon as this is over. And we will start another one soon. ;)
Grusk's jaw tightened as Legolas spoke, his hand flexing around the haft of the battleaxe like it might splinter under the strain. The half-orc's eyes flared with a mixture of indignation and deep frustration, his tusks protruding slightly as he ground his teeth.
"Assume ownership?" Grusk snapped, voice low but taut with building fury. "I bought this forge. Paid for it with coin, blood, and the last shreds of my patience dealing with Waterdeep’s stuffed-shirt bureaucrats. I own every brick, every bolt, every damn anvil beneath my boots. And now you're telling me some... ghost in a tin suit thinks otherwise?"
He stood, the crate creaking as it scraped the floor, battleaxe now loose in his hand but not yet raised. His shoulders heaved as he paced once, twice, jaw working, weighing the implications.
"Hell, I don’t give a damn if Hornrock’s soul's rattling around inside a walking kettle," he growled. "but I own that forge. I own everything in it. I bought it fair—his failure to stay alive long enough to sign the paperwork isn't my godsdamned problem. And I’ll tell you what else—ain't no lich, no cursed thing, gonna squat in my basement whisperin’ madness and spittin’ talk of ownership. I bought this place to build it back up, not play host to some wretched soul stuffed in brass!"
Legolas, hearing Grusk’s heated words and seeing the determined grip on the axe, wisely decides it's time to separate himself from this mess entirely. His shoulders relax slightly as he realizes — thank the forest spirits — he never accepted a single coin of advance payment for this job. No money, no contracts tying him to the fallout. Just rumors, dangers, and simmering tempers soon to boil over.
Without a word, he turns on his heel, slipping through the door like smoke on the wind. He moves swiftly through the busy streets of Waterdeep, leaving behind the forge, the cursed construct, and Grusk’s inevitable confrontation.
By the time the stone streets give way to the familiar greenery of the Emerald Enclave’s groves, Legolas’s stride is lighter. He finds Melannor Fellbranch tending to the trees, the old druid’s knowing eyes lifting to meet his with a smile.
OOC:
I guess, for Legolas, that's the end of this adventure =) But @GreyWord, feel free to lurk around in the OOC thread in this adventure and/or post something in the Tiny Tavern. I feel that Zyra will catch up with Legolas as soon as this is over. And we will start another one soon. ;)
OOC:
Continues in Act 3.Grusk Ironsunder