<div class="floatright">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v181/Kittenpeeler/Pathfinder%20Characters/orc_by_yy6242-d7sdciz.jpg)</div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Corrag</div><div class="spoiler_body">Corrag, Half-Orc barbarian (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=995773)<br/><strong>HP</strong> 14   <strong>Init</strong> +2<br/><strong>AC</strong> 15 - <strong>touch</strong> 12 - <strong>FF</strong> 13 - <strong>CMD</strong> 17<br/><strong>Fort</strong> +5 <strong>Ref</strong> +3 <strong> Will</strong> +2<br/><strong>Perception</strong> +5<br/><strong>Rage:</strong> 6/6</div></div><hr/><br/>"Hrrm?" he grunted at Arafel. "It was just a bit of a burn. I've had worse from cats." corrag of course, neglects to mention they were very large cats... Nor does he actually spurn the healing. he cast a look at the smashed mechanical creature, then chuckles.<br/>"If it starts moving again, send a message for me. It should stay down for good. or your money back." he prods at the sharp sliver of<em>whatever</em>he had knocked loose from inside the machine, looking at the bead of blood that wells from his fingertip as he does.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>"Elder," he greeted Dolga with surprising respect when she arrives, even getting her chair. She may be a dwarf, and he raised among wild orcs... but she was clearly a leader of the "torch Tribe" on whose largesse he resided, and she had done him no harm. Quite the opposite in fact. He folded his massive limbs on the top of a table as he sat in one of the tavern's chairs, the furniture looking laughably frail set against him.<br/><br/>Mention of the Technic league caused a grunt from him, and not one of the good kinds. "Most likely they have their own hands in it. If that thing we smashed was an indication, they would have the interest down there... And last thing they want is to have it in Torch's grubby mitts, hmmm?" or, of more concern to him, his tribe's. Right now, no difference between the two.<br/><br/>Corrag leans back in his chair, lifting the tankard of watery ale, taking two good swallows, wiping the dribble that spills down his rough chin with the back of his bare hand. "Six thousand gold then." Math is not a strong point in Belkzen; one, two, four, many! "To go into these tunnels, find a crazy wizard, and find out what happened to your flame. And reignite it. Hrm." he mulls it over, taking another swallow of ale.<br/><br/>"After today, maybe we have more of an idea what could be down there than the others before did." he looks to the others then "You will want protection against the white-fire, I think." he pointedly scratches at a thin scab on his right arm, where the electricity had burned away a strip of skin