Sulfer "Mudpie" Irongut

Ammoniac Dwarf

"I AM NOT SHORT! I HAVE BAD FIBERGLASS RECEPTORS, YOU SON OF A WHORE!"

"Ahhh. A sal ammoniac. ...velvety nose...Oooh. Is that caper brine? Very nice touch. ...hint of...I believe that's saltpeter? From...the Goldfarb mine in east Kerupen. Good vintage, too. Slight vaporous aftertails...could use some rosemary, but otherwise, a fine concoction."

"Prax, you and me, we're okay with it, but we're real different from normal people."

"I have nothing of value to steal, and nothing I wouldn't give anyway."

PRO: 21+3
-->Init: +0-
->In rage: +1

ATH: 20+1
-->Balance: +3
-->Endurance +6
-->In rage: +5

STR: 21
-->Toughness: +2/+3, +13/+13 Kujuta armor, +3/+3 vs good, evil, or contradiction.
-->In rage: -2, -0/-0
-->Damage +7/+7 when directly defending Prax with shilelagh
-->Shilelagh +10/+7, further +3/+3 vs hatred beings
-->Fortune sword: +13/+13, can manipulate fortune

AWA: 21
-->senses: +3, smell or taste +6
-->Danger Sense +6
-->Night Vision: +2
-->Cave sense: +2

WIL: 21
-->Stubbornness +2
-->Intimidate +0
-->-->Intimidate in rage: -1 to friends, +1 to enemies, +0 to enemies who know him

ROG: 21+3+3
-->Sleight of hand +1
-->Fast Talk +1
-->empathy 30 (Circlet)
-->Gauge how long it's been since someone had a decent meal
-->Guage what people need +6
-->In rage: -3

Survivalsmith faith: 0 (burn marks:20)
Commonly used faith powers:
--all rust and amber powers
--detect predators (manifested by scent)
--the blessing of "enough"
--blessing of the hunt

one time use of boon of the guns.

Magic:
Meta 1
Earth 1
Ice 1
Famine 1
Harvest 1
Dream 1
Love 1
Hunt 1

Cooking: 15+3
Ingredient connoisseur: 15
sal ammoniac connoisseur: 16
sal ammoniac lore: 16
Field cooking: 14
ingredient scavenging: 13
ingredient foraging: 13
carving: 7
Smithing: 4
Singing: 1
Traditional Fell-Dwarf drums: 13
Storytelling: 14
-->+3 if using the Fell-Dwarf drums
Poetry 10
Poison knowledge: 15
Detect poison: 13
First aid: 10
Hunting 10+13
Military lore: 10
Black market connections: 10
Homeless and poor connections: 12
Amber church connections: 13
Smattering of other languages: 6
Ability to take wounds for others
Can trade stats and skills freely with Prax
Shilelagh will not break unless quest is complete or becomes impossible
Can channel a point of faith into the Shilelagh for +3 parry
Can sacrifice shilelagh to raise Prax from dead
Can sacrifice a point of strength to heal prax one wound level

Standing duty to feed the hungry, and promote endurance, survival, and strength wherever he can
Immunity to annoyance from poor and homeless, and young children
always hungry
fasting
quest to make the perfect sal ammoniac and experience it once in his life
Enemies among the the Obsidian Eye Fell-Dwarf tribe
Enemies among the Brotherhood of the Lamp crime family (see backstory below)
Members of his Amber church get +5 to roll to talk him down. Can be instantly talked down with a sal ammoniac.

Annoyance scale:
exceptional defense: doesn't even notice.
special defense: shrugs it off.
basic defense: growls, but lets it slide.
graze: spits and walks away, or equivalent.
normal wound: says something snarky and inopportune (as in, may get him in trouble), others may roll to talk him down (wp? rogue?)
special wound: cuts loose and yells at the person annoying him, -2 to rolls to talk him down.
exceptional wound: hulks the fuck out, must be restrained or rendered unconscious, -4 to rolls to talk him down.

Rare among Ammoniac dwarves, Sulfer was always an ornery and outspoken little cuss who would not be bossed around by anybody. He was also the best cook the tribe had. One day, having had enough of the tomfuckery, he just ran out of bubble gum and...er...said his goodbyes, to put it kindly--in the process, crippling and maiming Thalukan "Bristlebeard" Kneckhaun, the Ammoniac Dwarf chieftain.

He spent some time as a field cook with mercenaries on the continent of Starfall where he earned the nickname "Mudpie," and thoroughly impressed them with his cooking prowess--but not his diplomatic skill. He was eventually drummed out for attacking a general. Before then, however, he developed a connection to black market runners for harder to find ingredients.

He did a brief stint as a cook for the Brotherhood of the Lamp, a crime syndicate involved with the mysterious Riverkin people, where his primary job was to protect the Don from poisoning. You can imagine how that ended. He traveled for a while, cooking for others for his next meal, but always ending up unapologetically pissing someone off. Found in an alleyway, drunk, desolate and starving, the Amber church took him in, fed him, and made a convert of him. They also figured out how to talk him down from his periodic rages, and have become his best friends and surrogate family. They have him seeing a Horse-Priest once a week for anger management counseling, which is very slow going. He cooks for the homeless, and to his surprise, has found that those he feeds among the poor and homeless don't annoy him much--he seems to have a soft spot for them. He also has a patience for little children, though teenagers can get on his nerves a bit.

Mudpie recognizes the need to control his temper, but most days just finds it easier to do what he knows. He knows Father Crane at the Horse Church is getting frustrated, and he actually likes the guy, so he really does make an effort. The problem is, some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. Mudpie thought his efforts might be aided if he could take the edge off the emotional fire that causes anger, and so he used his black-market connections to find an artifact that might weaken that fire. A couple of years of searching paid off when his contacts directed him to an old temple. There, a strange and strangely friendly mask on a stick tried to warn him off, but its smug and snarky personality caused Mudpie to lose his temper. He destroyed the mask instead and continued on. Eventually, he came to an area with the most unsettling market he had ever seen. Ogres traded sentient flesh. Babies were sold to Stillborn Cultists. Oerdoegs and brimstone dwarves exchanged implements of war and torture. Demons walked openly. Every dark and vile thing could be bought and sold here. Mudpie had heard rumors of places like this, but he had never seen one--a Mammon Market, where powerful demons created safe zones where followers of fell and dark religions could trade wares. A mysterious woman in a sable robe guarded by four men covered in runes were doing a brisk trade, and they fit the description of the sellers Mudpie had been given.

When he approached them, his offer of information on how to cook a proper demi-glace--not the regular beef sauce stuff, but the kind that cooks 40 cows down into a teacup of pure beef essence (Mudpie was willing to throw in that they really needed to be using Tenzanese pampered-beef; if they were going to be that extravagant, they might as well do it right) was rejected. The woman told him a Gift's value far outweighed a recipe (she did not mention that she could probably just pluck the information from his mind, anyway). She asked for his soul. They began to haggle. Mudpie offered food. She asked for his faith. Mudpie offered a lot of food and some secret recipes. She asked for 10 years indentured servitude. Mudpie offered to bless a cooking pan such that it would perfectly spice her food for 10 years. She asked for his sense of balance. The haggling continued, until they came to an agreement: five tons of sal ammoniac. Mudpie found this to be oddly cheap. He signed their document, in blood.

He left and spent the next year gathering the ingredients and making as much of his special drink as he could. Using a lot of mules, he dragged the barrels of sal ammoniac to the agreed meeting place. By the time he got there, his temper was already being tested (mules are like that). The woman and her guards arrived, and Mudpie demanded the Gift. The woman, however, objected: she had wanted the mineral salt, not the drink (of which she was unfamiliar). Mudpie lost it and launched himself at her. The runed guards moved with a speed he could barely process, and he was knocked back hard. Stunned, he could do nothing as the woman tried to take the barrels and leave, cheating him. And then his foolish decision to sign in blood came back to haunt... her. The contract, apparently, was enchanted to ensure the deal was kept, and it accepted his interpretation over hers. She was overcome with pain. She writhed on the ground and screamed for the soldiers to award him with the Blood. Still stunned, Mudpie could do nothing as a soldier slit his throat and poured dark blue fluid into it. He lost consciousness as the woman promised to return and exact vengeance.

Mudpie found himself shivering uncontrollably for about five days, and almost gave in to the cold malaise--until some idiot trying to steal his mules tripped over him and called him "shorty." He's been fairly okay with the Gelid blood so far since then, but he can feel it creeping, and he's still cold. He still bears the scar on his neck as well. His fellow priests convinced him that the Gelid Blood was the mother of all bad ideas he's ever had in his life, and that he needs to be free of it. A priest of the Gatekeeper [Death] suggested he go after the Curseweaver.

gear:

jievaras bow (16/23/30; aetherial power 16)
red cloak
half-length oilskin duster with big pockets, even at half length a little too big for him. Drags the ground, sleeves too long, etc. Pockets contain old food he put away for later--and given that he's an Ammoniac Dwarf, some of that shit is rancid.
Shillelagh (a Kieran walking stick that to him is the size of a staff, with a heavy knarled knob on one end) (+2/+3)
utility knife (+1/+1 at best as a weapon)
warm hat
old worn boots

Reconstructing his cart: CURRENTLY ON HOLD [x][x][x][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ][ ] One dedicated shopping trip of at least two hours per box.

Convictions:
--What you eat becomes your food.
--I hope one day to make and drink sal ammoniac again.
--I am now the Survival-Smith. It's a part of my name.
--I hate bullies.
--Anything can be food. You just gotta do the right stuff with it. That's my gift. (will use the karma from this to narrate finding an ingredient in an odd place once per session) $
--I never forget who does me a kindness.
--My gnomish friends may talk about Vesturian Souls, and I hear a lot about Galdunic wine, and Innish single malt, but you know what? None of them ain't never had a Sal Amoniac like I make.
--I have mastered the Gellid Blood, and now, I will make it the Survivor's Blood.
--I will guide my friends safely through the Fuligin Fields, even if it means my life.
--Contest seems to be going okay.
--WE WILL ENDURE. The war, the wound, our Gifts, it doesn't matter. WE WILL ENDURE.

Relationships:
--Churches of Amber and Rust: My brothers and sisters, some chosen, some born. All my family.
--The homeless and poor: those most in need of endurance.
--The black market: I'm a scavenger. I will find what I need.
--The local market: There's treasure everywhere if you know where to look.
--Brotherhood of the lamp: Smells like an alliance, I guess I'll take it.
--Father Crane: I hope to see his best aspirations for the world realized. Hey, I can dream. Also, it's good to have a sane person around once in a while.
--Cork: We gotta help this kid. He's just tryin' to save his soul.
--The Hooded God: I just hope he remembers us kindly and keeps his goons out of the innocents' way.
--The Obsidian Eye: I am of them.
--That dark woman: If we have to come to terms, we will.
--The mask on the stick: Alright, I got no idea what the hells that was, but it creeps me out, alright?
--The listeners: You know, this is kind of a lot of responsibility, but what the hey. Story of my life right now.
--The Red-Cloaks: I really like these guys. I'm excited to be working with them.
--The curseweaver: He may not keep good company, but anyone who cares that we got dicked around like he does is at least worth a chance in my book. And he does seem pretty smart.
--The Peridot dragon: Has an enemy, and I think I might have a good lead on having him by the peridots.
--The Champion of nightmare and the Devil: Fuck them. If I'm gonna die I'm gonna die on my terms.
--The Prophetess: Yeah yeah, I'm an ass-kisser sometimes, but you know what? I'm crazy, not stupid. You're in her house, you wipe your feet before coming in. There's plenty of important stuff to fight and die for without bein' stupid.
--Deserel: See above. Also, I need a clean pair of pants.
--The Maze: Has an enemy. More than one, if I'm reading my companions right.
--Inelle: I'm really starting to like her. That could be good or that could be bad. Let's see.
--The Sword: This thing's got some potential. Gotta master it to the Faith though.
--Arrowfoot: Cidney, I don't remember her bein' this much trouble. She's gonna be a problem.

PC's:
--Prax: A true friend. I'm not sure what I'd do without him.
--Rosalie: She got out safely. Now for the rest of us.
--Wactawa: You know, she's still sane. That's better than Prax or I can claim some days.

NOTES:

<Wactawa> "Let me ask a few questions of my own first."
<Wactawa> "What has become of the Arbiter?"
<Wactawa> "What is in The Pit?"
<Wactawa> "How did the dead gods become resurrected?"
<Wactawa> "What is Harkan's ultimate goal?"
<Wactawa> "Why would he ally with gods?"
<Wactawa> "How do we stop the meddling nephesh?"
<Wactawa> "Will the Sons of Shem be allies? Or will they take after their aunts and uncles?"
<Wactawa> "Why did the Dealmaker arrange for you each to have vexed Gifts?"
<Wactawa> "Are you still playing into his hands, or have you broken free?"
<Wactawa> "How can he be stopped?"
<Mudpie> was the dealmaker the one I encountered in the afterlife?
<Wactawa> I think so.
* Prax nods all the nods.
<Mudpie> "he said mine was a mistake. Someone else was to have the blood."
<Wactawa> "Who, then, was to take your place?"
* Mudpie repeats what he can remember of that conversation.
<Wactawa> "Why did all of the other esotierca besides magic and faith and void become so powerful after Starfall?"
<Wactawa> "Why haven't the dead gods been replaced?"
<Wactawa> "And lastly, why does the Webweaver seem to be quiet now? His webs are everywhere. Why does he seem to be outside of this one?"
* Prax keeps nodding.
<Wactawa> "Those are my questions. Some I have suspicions about. Some I know a little bit, but none do I have all the answers to."

"Anyway, on Mati, there's about three other nations worth lookin' at. Tha Caliphate, the Great Golden Desert, an Solithia. Maybe Inisel, but they're all dyin' out.

Lance Corca, Murasakiiro no Yugure

Jenny guild needs a leader and resources
Monsapple wants to stop Litany from getting the "Numen"
Carts smuggling stuff for the puzzle of bloods, and for the gathering of goblins and trolls, weapons better than the gods
Agikaan resurging, reaching out to old allies, making new allies with Harkan the Black?
the two old men are art conmen and founders of Domino Studios. Nine doors, two freeform. they've taken a hand in the trickster war.
Peridot dragon, misfortune.
Pandemonian sea: wierd weather from starfall, and activity on beholder continent.

[18:01:17] Wactawa: Mudpie, the spices: there are all the normal ones, many rare and exotic one. And then there are the supernatural ones: spider drop (deadly but delicious), moly (which briefly grants magical immunity), gilgamesh (perhaps the rarest, it grants immortality to the ingester), amber cumin (renowned to be the most delicious spice in the world), honesty (which makes it difficult for the ingester to lie), quick weed (instant energ), fidelity (helps you remember who was good to you in the past), muckroot (cause vomiting), raskovnik (you only recognize it because it is labelled--it is said to open doors), ginseng miraculous (healing herb), sleeper's kiss (causes sleepiness) and chamomile of the core (centers a person's mind).

Mudpie's Theresan Journal

http://madziar.net/wiki/Shem/MudpiesTicket

http://madziar.net/wiki/Shem/ProphecyOfTheWorms