Iron Crisis Pt3 IC

[Archmage1]

Grok Dwarf Paladin 7 AC: 9 HP: 27/77 PP: 10 PIv: 9 PIs: 10 HD: 7/7d10, Conditions: none Grok grumbles under his breath as he is relieved of his heavy bag, his prisoner, and his glaive, leaving him bleeding in the street and very little of him is left to the imagination. Like many a dwarf, Grok's beard is practically a work of art, the brown hair woven through an intricate set of jewelry, decorated with a shield and anvil symbol. His brown eyes seem piercing, and a well controlled fury seems to blaze behind them. His musculature is quite impressive, despite his lofty height of 4'3", and his movements are well practiced, and well controlled. Also, he is bleeding heavily from a multitude of knife wounds decorating his hairy chest. Inside the wagon, he sits, and, with the help of a slight pull-up, looks through the window at the sinking boat, and the swearing of the guard. Afterwards, as the view disappears, he releases his grip, and takes a seat on the now bloody bench. "Not a great start." After a few moments of silence, Grok looks to the tabaxi, Leaf, his eyes not exactly happy. "Guards, or thugs?"