Freya tilted her helmet downward and used part of her fake beard as improvised earmuffs. This at least provided some layer of protection from her comrade's spell, though the sound still rocked her tiny ears. After the initial flash, now it's time to get to work and not let opportunity go to waste!
“So these trash gnomes knew we were coming? So what? It's not gonna make a difference!”
The dwarf woman focused her gaze upon for what appeared to be the most ironclad goblin among the group, ignoring the rest. Though in reality none of them actually fit the description, they were all poorly geared and mismatched. The sight honestly disgusted her. One unlucky goblin was chosen out of the bunch, for simply wielding a sword and wearing metal protection on their chest. They stood out the most to Freya, poor bastard.
Clenching her war hammer, the air shifted around her as the engraved runes responded to her guided motions. Freya used the wind to push herself forward, with a hard gust following behind. While she tried to keep it concentrated in a small area so as to not put arrows off course for the sake of the archers, the dwarf was rather overzealous in reaching her intended target. The strong winds easily snapped the strings that held the bone and pottery ornaments they saw earlier. Along with displacing lightweight debris like bits of gravel, timber, and other trash lying about.
In a moment's notice, Freya came face to face with the staggered goblin before they could even recover from that blinding light. There was a wide grin across the dwarf's face, with her hammer swinging at full force across that green bastard's plated chest. As one would expect, the armor didn't save this goblin from having their chest caved in and violently sent flying to the other side of the fort. With her prime target gone, she turned her attention to the other goblins. Bodies were already dropping one by one, both from afar and in close combat. So Freya added to those numbers by covering Abigail's blind spots, and utilizing the powerful knock back from her swings to assist the archers with their marks.
Battle-ready and opting to bring her trusty war hammer for this expedition, these goblins are about to get in a world of hurt. Freya has been fervently vocal about her runeforged weapons and tools, more so than about herself. For a weapon like hers, she carried it proudly and with ease, despite its bulky appearance. For any metal that needs mending, they are free to make the request. Beyond her specific ramblings about wanting to challenge a heavily armored goblin, the team at least possessed a competent craftsdwarf who was more than prepared to turn this mission into a multi-day siege if they had to. That'd be a fun experience with the two coppers on board!
When they arrived, she fully expected the ruined fort to be partially restored or in the process of. Over-imagining with reinforced walls, maybe with goblin archers patrolling the battlements and one ample-bodied goblin guarding the main gate. But no, the place is still in ruins, transformed into a refuse zone by the looks of it. With the improvised alarm system and the scattered debris, this whole area is beneficial in some ways, but problematic in others.
Utilizing her own techniques here is going to be a challenge, that's for certain. Freya stroked her fake beard, not against the team's preference for stealth tactics. While the thief specialist scouted the fort, Freya kept an eye on their blind spots in the rear in the meantime. If they were to spot a goblin away from the fort, the dwarf could respond quickly if necessary. Better than her half-tempted to break down the gate with her hammer, even if it wasn't locked.
“The moment I see a goblin out there, I'm swingin'.”
Freya tried to stand still, but this damn floor wouldn't stay put! Her weight tipped forward, then back. Forcing her to take clumsy steps just to remain in place. Difficult enough to maintain her composure whilst listening to the cow-horn glorifying her spoils.
“No blood in the drinks then?...Good! Just -hic- what I wanted to hear!” She pretended not to hear that kitten remark. Partially because it was true. Though Freya did feel tempted to kick the cow-woman's shins for calling her a baby-child, among other implications! As a matter of fact, she was just about to do that. But that process was interrupted by someone announcing their recruitment for a goblin-slaying job from across the room.
Seeking only iron rank and above? What a coincidence! Freya just so happens to be iron rank!
Lately, she felt stagnant. No good paying jobs were coming her way, and her coin purse is seeing less and less gold by the day. Maybe she should've charged a fair price for that last repair request after all. On top of that, strangers mocked her beard. More so than usual, which compelled her to wear it even harder out of spite.
Well, this aimless cycle ends today!
Freya lingered around for a moment to see if any other promising jobs would present themselves. So far, nothing else intrigued her more than the direct approach of putting smelly goblins in their place. A close contender is testing the might of her weapons against a potential horde of undead, but it wasn't guaranteed from what she could tell.
Might as well look further into the details for this goblin job and see if her skill set is required. The dwarf woman broke off from one group and stumbled her way to another. Halfway through, she picked up another tankard and chugged more freely than ever before. No orc blood, no worries! This was going to be the last drink for the day, she told herself.
The recruiter wasn't far off, and there were some chairs available this time, it seems. Thank goodness! Keeping herself upright was starting to get annoying. Freya ended up bumping into one of the chairs when she approached the table. More than once, she grasped at empty space before finally settling herself proper. Her tankard was empty by the time she arrived, and was left lying flat on her side of the table.
“Aye, what's this about goblins I hear? How many -hic- we killin'?” She asked the group, trying to maintain eye contact on at least one of them. However, her eyes refused to remain fixated and her head felt rather heavy. Yeah, that's the last drink all right.
While the guild staff tended to the mess, this gave Freya a moment to absorb her surroundings. Initially scanning the room with purpose for the one who caused the bloody mess in the first place. She caught wind of some particular developments in the crowd. One man's heartfelt laughter stood out from the rest; Someone seemed to be having a great time. That should be her, damn it! But how could she enjoy herself when there's a possibility of orc blood tainting her drinks?
Then what looked like a human child, barely taller than herself, was lifted up by a lamia's coil. By the way the girl appeared to be protesting, Freya wondered how it led to that. Next to them is the Ingvarr woman she was searching for, not far off from where she stood! She saw other fellow adventurers gathered around the Ingvarr. Couldn't hear them, but she imagined they were there to voice their complaints about the orc heads, no doubt!
The kind employee who went out of their way to wipe down her boots was not met with any gratitude. Instead, the dwarf woman's priorities were set to confrontation! Time to march over to that Ingvarr and give her a stern talking to! Maybe after some much-needed venting and baseless accusations, she'll return her thanks to the guild staff. Wouldn't be the first time.
“Oi! You! Fork-Head!” She aggressively called out, still clearly buzzed, judging by her unsteady balance.
“What's the big idea bringing something like -hic- that in here?! Spillin' blood all over the floors, in our food, in our DRINKS!” Freya emphasized heavily towards the end.
Freya was more or less seeking reassurance that her earlier drinks didn't contain any traces of orc blood. That would be...rather terrible if she did.
Coming down from the guild's upper housing area, the resident dwarf appeared to be in a rush much like any other. Cradled in her arms, wrapped in layers of cloth, is a freshly repaired longsword. The bloke who owned this weapon did a real number on it, a rookie no doubt or just a careless oaf. Fortunately, the damage wasn't severe enough to warrant new metal, but the wielder sure as hell deserves a scolding!
While pushing through the busy crowd, Miss Stonewall adjusted herself accordingly as to avoid any accidental bumps with the darn thing. She spotted the recipient by the bar, drowning themselves in booze alongside their peers. Good! The lot could use a refresher on how to maintain their equipment.
By her fake beard, she could use a drink right now.
Seemed like all hell was about to break loose when she marched over to the group and dropped the ragged sword onto their table. Freya fully intended to shame the poor lad in front of their friends about how the damage to their blade could've been easily avoidable. Maybe throw some shade at their receding hairline while they're at it, even though they showed no evidence of such. However, the moment her recipient offered a full tankard, her anger dissipated almost immediately.
...Ah, screw it! No point in wasting time arguing when the drinks are free today!
“Aye, -hic- don'cha forget to take the time to clean it every now and then.”
After chugging down a couple drinks herself, Freya miraculously managed to get her point across in the end. Last thing she needed on her conscious was letting someone go without knowing the fundamentals. Freya was compensated for her labor, but not for the repair kit and oil vials she tucked away in the cloth. A gesture of generosity that went beyond duty, something she couldn't freely display during her time in the mountains.
Freya decided to go wander off somewhere before they noticed the gift. Sheesh, how much did she drink in that short amount of time? Her legs felt like noodles. Struggling to walk proper, her aimless drifting eventually led her to the gathering around the job board. It was nigh impossible to push through this crowd. There has to be an opening of sorts, somewhere...The dwarf woman searched one section, found nothing, then attempted to move to survey another.
Only to find herself stepping in a small pool of orc blood, ewhk! Couldn't even wipe it off or risk losing her balance.
”Why?!” She said to no one in particular, but the one responsible should be nearby.
Wears a fake beard to further obstruct her face and maintain a false identity. Registered at the guild under the name 'Freya Stonewall'.
Her forearms possess various burn scars from her apprentice days, which she considers a badge of honor. However, because of how cautious she is of her identity in front of other dwarves, she hides them with a combination of wrapped bandages and long sleeves.
Personality:
At first glance, Frieda appears to be perpetually annoyed with...well, pretty much everything. Never short on anything to rant about, especially when it's in relation to her mountain home. Not one to follow the traditional rules set by the dwarven community, she was met with immediate judgment and scorn by her own family for years. Needless to say, her resentment towards the Draz'khzidra she grew up in remains strong as ever, and a sensitive topic all together.
While Frieda is prone to a fiery tirade, she is quicker to swing a hammer in retaliation. Her impulsive temperament regularly gets her into trouble, but that is easily quelled when she starts working with her tools, or chugging some fine ale. At one point, she confessed that her recklessness stems from simply wanting to test out her equipment.
During idle periods, she either dwells into her journal or performs regular maintenance. Her journal acts as both logs of her adventures and schematics for future projects. Frieda longs to bring these ideas to life whenever she gets her hands on the proper equipment. There is only so much she could do with on-road reforging and repairs.
Brief Backstory:
Hailing from one of the many back-breaking and well renowned blacksmith clans in Draz'khzidra, high expectations were set for Frieda since birth. From childhood, she showed exceptional skill with the hammer, rivaling the masterworks forged by adults of neighboring clans. Despite the praises and certainty for riches in the future, Frieda's aspirations lied beyond the mountain halls.
Overhearing foreign visitors that frequent the city, all this surface-folk talk about answering 'the call to adventure' put a what-if scenario in her head. Which in turn caused her dwarven family to believe she had been led astray. The idea of traveling, hunting monsters, and recovering lost dwarven artifacts appealed to her more than sitting at the forge for the rest of her life. Above all else, she wanted to fight beside her own creations! How could her family not support that, she wondered. In end, she came to believe the traditional values they uphold, simply did not fit her mold.
As time passed, her rebellious nature and reluctance to inherit the family's forge eventually led to her banishment from the mountain. The final straw being her failure to uphold the sacred dwarven tradition of pouring ale in respect to Krenhak. This was a bold decision on Frieda's part. After years of hesitation, she finally pushed herself into following her true desires, in one of the worst ways possible.
Initially, her choices came at the cost of being shunned by most dwarven establishments. This forced Frieda to adopt a new name for herself when she arrived to Estival and registered at the Adventurer's Guild. For eight years she resided in this kingdom, learning to become a warrior from scratch. She managed to attain Iron rank upon discovering a fighting style she's comfortable with.
Side Note: The nickname 'Iron-War Beard' stuck to her after a brawl at the tavern. Apparently, a bystander misheard her when she drunkenly declared “I earned my beer!”, prior to the chaos.
Equipment:
Frieda is well-versed in handling hammer based weaponry. It's as natural to her as breathing air. But, when the situations calls for slashing or 'chop chop', Frieda prefers to use a battleaxe. Both of these weapons are two-handed use, and are runeforged much like her tools. However, because carrying two heavy weapons is burdensome during travel, Frieda tends to leave one at her quarters.
Currently, both weapons are infused with wind-based magic, due to Frieda's preference for maneuverability assistance with these weapon types. Not exactly ideal for indoor combat or areas with restricted space.
The runeforged tools are Frieda's most prized possessions and are specifically designed to be utilized as nature intended them to be. As tools, definitely not because they are extremely expensive to upkeep and must be used sparingly. Unlike her weapons, her tools are infused with fire-based magic.
Of course, how could she leave for her travels without her flask of dwarven ale.
Battle Axe – 'Beard Cutter'
War Hammer – 'Anvil Breaker'
Shared Rune Engraving – Mark of the Tempered Wind
Description: Any weapon engraved with this rune is granted the ability to gather, store, and release the surrounding air as a directional force. Allowing for refined control over the user's momentum, rapid repositioning, and mid-air maneuverability. The rune responds to the guided motion of its wielder.
Frieda's Weapon Techniques:
Anvil Breaker (War Hammer): Excels in burst mobility, rewarding full commitment behind each heavy swing. This naturally results in stronger wind output and its ability to traverse longer distances quicker. The drawbacks being, a delay in followup maneuvers and the risk of violent recoils to its wielder.
Gale Rush – A snap motion that releases a powerful air current to push herself in a linear direction.
Beard Cutter (Battle Axe): Favors precision and continuous momentum over pure explosive force. Heavily dependent on wide open space to utilize efficiently without pause. When applied to active combat, the wielder can rebound easily for a flurry of attacks.
Crosswind Stride - Staggered, less powerful bursts of wind caused by repeated swings for a gliding transit. Can easily adjust the path to benefit the wielder and remain airborne for a longer duration.
Journal Entry (Anvil Breaker & Beard Cutter):
XX/XX/XX, Autumn.
Finally took the time to do one of my backlogged projects. An axe and a hammer born from the same material, infused with the same magic. Twins they are!
Took them out to the field for testing. Too heavy and awkward for me to efficiently dual wield. Even with the assistance of wind behind my swings, it's better to use them independently. That just means it'll take longer to complete the resonance process.
Decided to name the big lad 'Anvil Breaker', for obvious reasons. I'll be using this one a lot, my favorite so far.
The sharp one is 'Beard Cleaver'. No, wait. 'Beard Shaver'. Bah, 'Beard Cutter'! I'll stick with the latter. Next time I run into those nasty wrinkle-faced old timers, this axe will fulfill its true purpose! Should probably use this one more often in that case. Never know when the opportunity will present itself!
Once these two age a little, I'll reforge them into one.
Skills:
Frieda is already an exceptionally gifted blacksmith and runeforger, but that's only in the professional setting. Ever since she's been banished, she had to improvise her craftsmanship with what she's got on hand. Relying on primitive methods to upkeep her equipment, her general resourcefulness proved to be quite beneficial when it translated to surviving away from civilization.
Her literacy in other languages is rather limited to specific terms. All of which involving engineering manuals and schematics she picked up during her apprenticeship. Part of her duties was to ensure the customer knew exactly what they were buying.
@Animal: Marisa makes this a little jarring but I overall don't see anything wrong here. Though, female dwarves are beardless in the setting, so using a bearded disguise might draw more attention as opposed to less?
Huh, that actually is Marisa lmao.
Dwarves: Short, stocky folk dwelling in their deep mines and working metal, dwarves have a reputation for honesty, loyalty, and being the most stubborn people you could possibly meet. The men are bearded, but most women lack beards.
For the beard, I worked with the implication here that bearded female dwarves do exist. But, if it's a hard no, I can still play around it since Frieda isn't exactly the brightest or most logical already.
Wears a fake beard to further obstruct her face and maintain a false identity. Registered at the guild under the name 'Freya Stonewall'.
Her forearms possess various burn scars from her apprentice days, which she considers a badge of honor. However, because of how cautious she is of her identity in front of other dwarves, she hides them with a combination of wrapped bandages and long sleeves.
Personality:
At first glance, Frieda appears to be perpetually annoyed with...well, pretty much everything. Never short on anything to rant about, especially when it's in relation to her mountain home. Not one to follow the traditional rules set by the dwarven community, she was met with immediate judgment and scorn by her own family for years. Needless to say, her resentment towards the Draz'khzidra she grew up in remains strong as ever, and a sensitive topic all together.
While Frieda is prone to a fiery tirade, she is quicker to swing a hammer in retaliation. Her impulsive temperament regularly gets her into trouble, but that is easily quelled when she starts working with her tools, or chugging some fine ale. At one point, she confessed that her recklessness stems from simply wanting to test out her equipment.
During idle periods, she either dwells into her journal or performs regular maintenance. Her journal acts as both logs of her adventures and schematics for future projects. Frieda longs to bring these ideas to life whenever she gets her hands on the proper equipment. There is only so much she could do with on-road reforging and repairs.
Brief Backstory:
Hailing from one of the many back-breaking and well renowned blacksmith clans in Draz'khzidra, high expectations were set for Frieda since birth. From childhood, she showed exceptional skill with the hammer, rivaling the masterworks forged by adults of neighboring clans. Despite the praises and certainty for riches in the future, Frieda's aspirations lied beyond the mountain halls.
Overhearing foreign visitors that frequent the city, all this surface-folk talk about answering 'the call to adventure' put a what-if scenario in her head. Which in turn caused her dwarven family to believe she had been led astray. The idea of traveling, hunting monsters, and recovering lost dwarven artifacts appealed to her more than sitting at the forge for the rest of her life. Above all else, she wanted to fight beside her own creations! How could her family not support that, she wondered. In end, she came to believe the traditional values they uphold, simply did not fit her mold.
As time passed, her rebellious nature and reluctance to inherit the family's forge eventually led to her banishment from the mountain. The final straw being her failure to uphold the sacred dwarven tradition of pouring ale in respect to Krenhak. This was a bold decision on Frieda's part. After years of hesitation, she finally pushed herself into following her true desires, in one of the worst ways possible.
Initially, her choices came at the cost of being shunned by most dwarven establishments. This forced Frieda to adopt a new name for herself when she arrived to Estival and registered at the Adventurer's Guild. For eight years she resided in this kingdom, learning to become a warrior from scratch. She managed to attain Iron rank upon discovering a fighting style she's comfortable with.
Side Note: The nickname 'Iron-War Beard' stuck to her after a brawl at the tavern. Apparently, a bystander misheard her when she drunkenly declared “I earned my beer!”, prior to the chaos.
Equipment:
Frieda is well-versed in handling hammer based weaponry. It's as natural to her as breathing air. But, when the situations calls for slashing or 'chop chop', Frieda prefers to use a battleaxe. Both of these weapons are two-handed use, and are runeforged much like her tools. However, because carrying two heavy weapons is burdensome during travel, Frieda tends to leave one at her quarters.
Currently, both weapons are infused with wind-based magic, due to Frieda's preference for maneuverability assistance with these weapon types. Not exactly ideal for indoor combat or areas with restricted space.
The runeforged tools are Frieda's most prized possessions and are specifically designed to be utilized as nature intended them to be. As tools, definitely not because they are extremely expensive to upkeep and must be used sparingly. Unlike her weapons, her tools are infused with fire-based magic.
Of course, how could she leave for her travels without her flask of dwarven ale.
Skills:
Frieda is already an exceptionally gifted blacksmith and runeforger, but that's only in the professional setting. Ever since she's been banished, she had to improvise her craftsmanship with what she's got on hand. Relying on primitive methods to upkeep her equipment, her general resourcefulness proved to be quite beneficial when it translated to surviving away from civilization.
Her literacy in other languages is rather limited to specific terms. All of which involving engineering manuals and schematics she picked up during her apprenticeship. Part of her duties was to ensure the customer knew exactly what they were buying.
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