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Summoner

"Prophet"'s page

293 posts. Alias of Loup Blanc.


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Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet drinks deeply, and lets Creon give his own barebones account of what occurred at the bandit encampment. When Oleg asks about the ring, he shakes his head sadly and sets the cup down. "We didn't find it, Oleg. I would guess it was given to her leader, the Stag Lord. We'll find that bastard, though. And we'll get your ring."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

"Bah." Prophet grunts and shakes his head. "If some of you wish to speak with the man, by all means. Perhaps our more honorable speakers would like to discuss things with him, and drop off the new laborers?" The half-orc looks sidelong at Annika and Theo, but hsi voice suggests he's jesting.

"As for myself, well." He glances back to the entrance. "I think I've already had enough of soldiers for the day. What I'd like now is a seat, a drink, a meal, and we can tell you what happened out there."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

"That it will be. But before then, if you don't mind, I think a hearty victory meal is in order." Prophet looks to the others as he slides the charter back into his pack. "We had hard fighting yesterday, and warm bellies would do us good."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet growls audibly. "What do you think I just hit you with? Or do I need to grind it into your head?"


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet scowls when the group is stopped by the apparent new arrivals, and he slides from his horse and steps up to them, reaching into his pack. "What's this, the post gets protection after the need is gone? Wonderful of Restov to finally reach out its hand. Too bad we already took care of the problem." He gestures back to the bandits, then slaps a roll of parchment into the man's chest--his charter. "You're here for Restov, we're here for all of Brevoy. Now get out of my way, little man."

Intimidate: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet awakens with the others the next morning, and he seems back to the way he was back at the trading post and on the road. While still fit as any half-orc might be expected to be, he's lost some of that warrior's edge, and once again the greatsword somehow looks a little out of place on his back. He takes breakfast with the rest of the group without comment and nods. "Agreed. We should get them back to the trading post, and move from there. Some of the points the woman mentioned yesterday seemed of interest."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet elects to take a late watch in the dead of night.
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet turns to regard the paladin, and he watches him for a long moment before saying anything. When he does, his voice is his own, if only for now. "The hardest part of life here is that you can only save one person. Yourself. She chose not to."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
Prophet shrugs and steps forward, planting a foot on her stomach. When he speaks, his voice is no longer raging: it has only the cold, emotionless tone of death. "A̷ ̶҉d͘e͢al̴'͜s̶̨҉ ͘a̵ ͜d͞e̵a͡l͜.́͢͝" He kicks out her other elbow and plants his foot on her palm, then grunts as he swings his sword down. Another spurt of blood jets out over his boot, and Kressle's second hand joins her first in lying on the ground. Prophet then rams his sword straight down through the woman's stomach, just under her ribcage. She isn't quite dead yet--she's pinned to the ground and her spine is severed, but she'll have time to realize what's happened for a moment before bleeding out.

"S͢ay̡ ̛h͢éll͘o ҉t͡o̸ ̀ţh̶e͝ Ab̡ỳss̨ ̕f̷or̶ me̷,̕ ̢w͝i̛ļl̸ you?" With that he reaches behind her and grabs whatever she was reaching for as he watches the woman die.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

I'll post my level up stuff here, I guess.

At second level Prophet gets shared seance, which will let him share his seance boon with folks pretty much all the time. Effectively this is going to give the party +2 to weapon damage most days.

He also gets taboo, which will give me a limited resource for using spirit surge more often without taking serious penalties from influence. I'll be adding the taboos into his profile.

Another spell known at 0-level, so I'll add that, and my skills all go up obviously. Also just realized I haven't redone my Background Skills, I'll take care of that.

Hit Die: 1d8 ⇒ 6 Cool, slightly less squishy.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 18
Prophet slaps her again when she spits, and he clenches his fist several times. "Cle͜arly ̀no҉ o҉n͏e ̧t͠òld ̧yo̵u͢ ab̀out̕ ͞H̛a͟pp҉s͝.͝ A͡h ̢well.͜" He looks to Theo and shakes his head, almost clearly echoing Kressle's own thoughts to some extent. "S̸h͏e i̡sn̛'͞t͞ ́giv̵i͢n͘ģ us̢ i̷nfo̧rma̧t̨io͘n,̸ s̀h̛e̡'̡s͜ c͝l͟ea͞rly̷ too dan͏ge̷rou͡s͠ ͡to ͟leţ liv͘e̸ as she ͝is̶, ̀bu͠t̨ ͘we҉ ̨d̵o͞n̕'t͝ ͟w͠a͟nt t̨o put̢ her ͞t͏o ҉death͏.̧ ͜S̡ơ ̴here'͢s͟ wh͢at͏ ͜w̸e͠'̧ļl d̸o̧."

The half-orc quickly grabs one of Kressle's arms with one hand, and grabs his greatsword with another. With a growl, he brings the blade around in a vicious arc and slashes through the woman's arm near the wrist, severing her hand. He lets her go with a slight shove, glaring down at the bloody stump before turning his eyes to hers.

"T͟el̵l͘ ͞u̡s ̢w̴hat͠ yơu ha̶ve to he̷a͘l̛ t͞h́e̡ hal̵f̸-elf,̶ ̕a͞n̢d͞ ҉w̡here̴ t͞he̴ Ştag ̧L̷or̶d'̨s ̶f͞o͡r͟t is, and ͢y̡o͜u͏ ̧g̛ęt͞ ̧t̷o ke̶ep th͟e͠ ơt͡her̨ o͘n̨è." It's clear in Prophet's voice that the offer will only be given once.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet slaps Kressle across the face--a hard, ringing backhand. A slap that shows dominance and dismissal. He then brings his head up and closes his eyes, breathing heavily as the veins in his neck stand out. Calm yourself. He exhales slowly and turns his gaze back to Kressle. "I ̕knǫw͘ o͠f̀ ͡t͡h͞e̢ Ştag ̵Lo͏rd̢'s̡ positio̸n. ̷I̡ ͢wąs ̶ask̛i̧ng͠ ͏f̶or̶ ̷h͟is ͘na͢me a͝n̶d ͘locàt̶i͞on͟.̸ ̸Bu͢t͞ cl҉e̸aving a͞ ̀m͏a͟n҉ i͢n͡ ͞ţw̛ó ̢wit̶h a̵ ͟s̵wip̧e ǫf̵ ̵h͝i͝s ͝bla͡d͞è?"

The half-orc gestures to the men he killed moments ago. "Perha̛p͜s ̴t͢o a̸ ̛l̛ul͢gi̵j͡ak͜ l͡i̛k̸e ̷y͢o͢u̵r̶s̢e̴lf, ́th̢is is im͡pr̶es͞s̕i͢v̨e̵. ̛But n͞o̢t҉ s̕o for me. ̷D͠o͝ ̢y̨o̶u h͢av͟e a̶n͘y͘ ús̴ȩf̡ul inf͜or̀maţi̷on?̀" Throughout this process he maintains a grip on Kressle's collar, making sure the woman doesn't try to escape.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet heaves a few more breaths as Kressle throws down her weapons. His muscles flex and relax, his fists clench around the hilt of his sword, and for a moment it seems he's going to run the woman through. When she makes her final comment, though, he finally acts decisively, once again plunging his sword through a bandit's corpse. He then grabs Kressle by the collar and hauls her close, where he snarls in her face.

"Ḿy ͝wors͘t?̸ ͜Y͜ou can't͞ ͡even҉ b̢e͢gin t͠o͞ i͝ma͘gine ̷t̨hat.̀ ̧An̡d ͞I'll ̶k̛e̵èp̢ ̶i͘t҉ ̕that̵ way͘ on͜ on͏e̵ ̧con͢d̵it̸io̴n͜." With a quick move, Prophet kicks out one of her knees from the front, not hard enough to break the joint, but enough to cause a spike of pain and drive the woman from her feet. "Ẃ͡H͠O̕͟ ͢͝͡I̢͢S̴̢̀ ͞TH́͏̕È̶͞ ̨̨S̨͟͡T̵A̸G̵̕ ҉L̡̨͝Ò͟R͡D͢͝? ̢͞W̸͞H̶̛ÈRE ̶̨͘I͏͠͠S͘ ͢͡H́E?̷"

Intimidate: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet only presses the attack as he beheads one man and sees Annika fall to the axe-wielding woman. Most of him cries out to attack her, the clear leader and most challenging foe, but he maintains control and simply assaults the next of the bandits in line. Content yourself to revel in all bloodshed.

Attack: 1d20 + 6 - 2 ⇒ (8) + 6 - 2 = 12 Gonna use Spirit Surge to add some to this.
Spirit Surge: 1d6 ⇒ 1 Meh, only up to a 13. Still, might make the difference.
Damage: 3d6 + 10 ⇒ (3, 6, 4) + 10 = 23


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)
Annika Valarius wrote:
Orcs are also horribly improperly rated. They're labelled as CR 1/3, but their closer to CR 1 or 2 each and rarely come in anything less than raiding parties of several. The CR system is less than accurate on a good day and you know it.

Oh, I know that. Just pointint out that even threats often thought of as relatively trivial can definitely put the hurt on you. Teamwork feats also add to the craze, though. Makes sense for a group of bandits to have them if they can, though.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

To be fair, if you were at full HP it wouldn't have quite dropped you, although 11 damage is certainly nothing to sneeze at. But keeping in mind that at 1st level most martials are still fairly squishy by damage standards. Especially a boss type should be decently built, and if I were making a melee type, I'd give them decent Strength, say 16, and a two-handed weapon, say a greatsword. That right there is 2d6+4 damage, which averages to 11. Any well-built PC is doing loads more than that, even.

Need we remember orcs, the CR 1/3 monster with 2d4+4 damage, an 18-20/x2 crit range, and effectively almost 20 hit points. It can be tough to build something you can actually call a warrior that isn't capable of one-shotting a 1st-level PC on occasion. It's mostly the reason I like to start games at a slightly higher level, even just 2 or 3, and usually with max HP for those first couple.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet lets out a roar of anger and then pain, as his focus shifts from the woman running out into the clearing to the bandits attacking him. He doubles over from the gut slash for a moment, but the power of the Kordator fills him with strength, and he brings his sword up once again, slashing viciously at the bandit who injured him so.

Attack: 1d20 + 6 - 2 ⇒ (11) + 6 - 2 = 15
Damage: 3d6 + 10 ⇒ (3, 2, 2) + 10 = 17


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet feels the ring of steel on steel, and his shoulder twists slightly. He only roars out a laugh, though, and brings his blade up and around again, to come crashing down on the enemy before him.

Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
Damage: 3d6 + 10 ⇒ (4, 4, 5) + 10 = 23

As that bandit is split from shoulder to thigh (I'm assuming), the half-orc roars again and steps up to the next, sweeping his blade before him.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet waits for a moment as the battle begins, trying to focus himself and retain control. Already the Kordator is surging within him, seeking to spread wanton destruction. Yo͏u̢ ̛fe͠e̶l̡ ͝it,́ ͠t͢oo̕.̛ ͏It͡ i̶s̀ y͘ǫur ̸l͞èg͡acy̵. K҉il̨l̶ the̷m̢ ̨al̵l̡.̡

Growling, Prophet moves forward. Perhaps. But for now, I leave it to you. Have fun. Feeling the spirit's power grow within him, he rushes forward, bringing his greatsword around at the same target Annika had hit.

Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
Damage: 2d6 + 8 ⇒ (2, 1) + 8 = 11


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet narrows his eyes at the elf, but accepts his spell. Why would he call me that? Surely he doesn't know me.

A͞͏ĺ̨l̴͏ ͝l̵͝u̷l̡g̕i͏j͝aḱ̡s͜ ̷͘arę̵̀ ͡͡t̡͡h̨e̕͢ ҉s̷ą̷m̵̢e҉͏. ͢I̵̛t̷̢ ̶͘͟is o̧̢nl͏̷y̢ ̛͜f̷̨l̶̴̨ò̵w̵er̶͘̕y̷͡ ̶̧̛s҉́p̧̀e̸҉e̕͘ch͜, ̨́͟ş̀ì̀́l̷͠v͘͘͝e̛͡r ̵ţ̨o͏̷͏ng͟͝u͢e̶̶ t͞o̴͜͢ ̴m̴ak͢e ̴͝u̡p͏͞҉ ̀̀f̴͞o͘r̵ la̴͘ç̀͝k̴͢ ̕of́҉ ̨s̸̡̢te͢el ̕͜a̷͠r̶̢m̢͜s̡̛.̨͟

Prophet shakes his head and focuses forward, ready to spring into action when the time comes.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet offers a nod and moves into position with Annika and Gallidren. Once there, he readies his sword and gives the elves a grin. "M̕i̕r̡daut̡as ́v̷r̶a̛s̕."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Having stood by while the more tactically-minded planned, Prophet now snorts. "Bah͞.҉ ͞This͡ s̸te̷al̵th͞ i͟s ҉m̕ore tr̀o҉ubl͜e͢ tha̵ń ̸it's ̴w̨ort̡h. Ou͟r͜ su͞rpri̶se҉ ́wa͝s͏ ͠r̷uined͝ ͞w̶he͜ń we ̵l͡et an͡y ̴of͢ ͘t́h̶ís̵ ͏ilk liv͞e ̡before.͘ ̛W͏e̢ ̨sho̡ul͜d ro͟u̡t͞ t͠he͢m ̷f͏aşt̶." He runs a hand along his sword's blade and grins. "Oúr͜ ̷a͜ŕc̴h͡er͢s ̛f̢ire t̕h͠e̡ ̸gu̡a͘ŕd͠s͝ ̛a̵nd ͢t́h͟e ͡re̸s̷t ̧of u̴s҉ ͘r͞u͠sh̕ ͡i͞ņ.̸"


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

The half-orc slowly releases his tight grip on the sword as the conversation with the kobolds comes to an end. He turns to the elf and grunts. "I ͟am̢ Ma͏laz Tarn͞,͜ á local ơf t͡h͏ese͝ ̛l͠an̡ds. ͟I̸'͘ve liv͢e̷d̕ ͠ḩe̴ŗe͢ ͢a̵s҉ a̧... se̶t̡tl̴e͢r҉, f͘o̴r̷ ̸so͜me tim̡e.͟ ͠S̀o̸ f͞a͏r͞ ͘we'v͡e ͝ki͏l̕l͡e͢d ̷a͟ ̷f̀ew̧ w̛o̡rth̶l͞e̷ss̢ ban̷d͞its̕, an̨d̷ ̀n̡o͏w͢ ẃé'r̶e͞ ͝ơn ͡t̴h̢e͟ ̵w̷a͟y̵ ̷t̸o ki͞l͠l ̴t͟hat w͟ǫmąn ̵yo̕u̵ me̛n̢tiòņed. ͢Ỳóu͢'r̛e̶ ͡w̢elc͡o͏me̸ t͏o̷ ̷j̶oįn͟ us if you ҉w͝a̸n҉t.̛" His voice continues to have the menacing growl.

Bluff: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9
Well, most of you probably get a sense that he's not sharing the whole truth.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet growls and shifts his hands to get a new, firmer grip on the sword's hilt. "T͏he͞y͞'̨r̕e g͠o͞i͏ng ̡t̵o̷ run̢..." he hisses, gazing sidelong at the others. "We̢ şho̷uld ̸str̕ik͝e ̸nów, b͘e̶f͘ór͝e th̸e̵y̕ ha̧ve͠ ͝a҉ ́çhanc̀e.͡ K̨i̵l̸l ̕them͜ ̢er͡e̶ t͟hey ̡d̶raw a͢ ͢w̡eáp҉o͠n̶."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet stands down for a moment as the newcomers approach, and though it's tough for him to do so, he lets the half-elf swordswoman do the talking. We ͜are b̶e͏s̡t͏ a̡t̷ ҉k̸i͜ll̶in̶g n̢ow̶, M̢al̡a̡z. Let͟ ̀others͠ dơ ̛t̢h͝e ̢soft ̛talk͏i̕n̛g.̸ The Kordator's voice was strong in his mind, and Prophet caught himself nodding for a moment before he shook it off. I'm fine with words, Swordsman. It is you who chooses only the blade.

When he notices the kobolds, though, a grin spreads across his face, and he steps forward, drawing the sword out of its scabbard and resting it on his shoulder. He pauses as the new elf steps toward the kobolds and starts talking to them in some other language, and stands by, holding his relic loosely in one hand. If the elf wanted to talk, let him. Sooner or later, the killing would start again. Prophet--and the spirit inhabiting his form--could wait.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet grins widely and nods. "A̧gr͘e͏e̸d͟. ́L͟e͘t's ͜ge͢t̸ o̶ǹ ͡th̸e͠ road̵ a̷nd̨ ͢f̛ind so̸me̶ ̨more̴ ̀b̛andi̕ts to̕ ki̶ll̴!" With that, he retrieves his bag from the storage house, slings the greatsword's scabbard around his waist and straps it to his belt, and sets off toward the gate of the compound, trusting the others to grab the map and follow.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Oh boy, another elf. Shaping up to be fun times, huh?

But seriously, welcome to the game! Look forward to playing with you.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet nods, and he seems more relaxed again. When he speaks, the timeless warrior's tone has come back into his voice. "A̧g͘r̸e̛e̸d͡.҉ ̶See̡i̶ng̨ ̢a͏s ̸w̴e ͠lost̢ no̵ r͞esou̧rce͝s͘ ҉i̸n͝ ͟t̷ḩi̵s̨ ͜f͢i͝g҉h͠t, ͞we could e̕a͠siĺy͢ purs̴u̸e ̸th̶e͠ ba͟n̷d͡it̴s̛ ͢t҉o t҉he̢ir ća͜m͜p ́a͠nd ̶engag̛e͘ ͝t͏hem ͞t͏her̵e͝.̨ An̨o͟thér͜ ͝swift̶ ͘a͠ss̵a͠ult ͟to ̡s̡end͡ ̀th̵em r̴u̷nni̸n͝g, in th̸is͘ ̢li͏f̸e̶ or͡ ̷the ̕ņext.̡" He grins and wrenches his sword from Happs's body, and with a deft swing, flicks the blood clean from the blade. "A͢s ̸f͠o͟r t̕h̢e whe̛l͡p ͝surv̨iv͞o̶rs̀,̢ ̷I t̸ruşt y̴ou̢ ̸have͟ ̡a ͘j͞a̡i̕l ̡of ͞so͟m҉e̵ ̵ki͝n̕ḑ,̴ ́Ol̛eg?"


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet snarls and looks sidelong at Annika. Th͜e ̷lu͟l͡gij̴a̵k̀ sp͜e҉a͏ks̨ weąkne͠s̡s̨.̸ Kill̨ t̡h̛e͡s͠e͡ ͘w͏hel̡pś ańd̵ ͠h͢a͢ve d̡o̢ņe wit̸h it. The half-orc's muscles tense and his whole body seems to strain for a moment. Then, with a grunt, he shoves the bandit away from him and to his knees. Stepping back, he flexes the metal-clad fingers, rubbing the wrist with his free hand.

After a long pause, he speaks again, and his voice is strained, but has lost the savage edge it's taken on since his seance. "You're right." He coughs and turns his gaze to the bandit on the ground. "One more question. Answer the truth, and you get the promise. I won't even hurt you." At this he twitches, winces his eyes shut, and clenches his muscles again. Finally, he opens his eyes and exhales heavily. "Where did you camp? Show us on a map."


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Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

"D̀ŕegot̛h͟?" Prophet turns to the bandit and approaches, staring at him hard. He reaches out with his cestus and strokes the man's cheek, dragging the blade tips across the skin, just enough to feel, not drawing any blood. He turns his head slightly, as if musing, and directs his gaze pointedly to the greatsword sticking out of Happs's still-smoldering corpse. "I a͢sk̨e̕d҉ ͠á ̧ḑoz̸en b́a̢n̵di̸ţs͢ who̶ ͜t͜he S͡tag̨ ̸Lord̡ is͠. Wh͘a̢t ̸d̡ǫ ̡y͞ou͡ think ̵the rig̷ht a͟ns҉wer w̕as̡?"

Regardless of what the man says (and with even more vigor if he stammers or tries to protest), Prophet lets out a ferocious shout, bordering on an animal scream. As he does so, he grabs one of the other bandits and throws the man to the ground. It doesn't hurt him beyond a bruise, but the half-orc snarls and grabs the original bandit (the one who's been answering questions) by the collar.

"Wr̵o͜n̛g̢ a̧ńs̀w͝er͘. And ́r͏ememb̵er, ̶I͢ ̨m͞àde n͜o̢ ̨pr͡o͜m̷i̢s͠e͡s͜.̡ ̛N͟ơw͠: W͞ho. ̧Is.̶ Th̀e St͞ąg ͟L̴òrd?" Prophet stares into the man's eyes, hate and bloodlust filling his own.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet grins wildly as his sword carves through Happs's torso, the savage joy of bloodletting spreading over the half-orc's face. He wrenches the blade out as the man falls, and though there is a moment of confusion when the fire bursts out, the warrior doesn't falter. He lets out a grim laugh, watching as chaos erupts among the bandits and they turn tail to run. Just as I thought. Break their leader, and the rest will flee.

Although the spirit within him calls for him to rush after the fleeing bandits, to cut them down and revel in their demise, Prophet gives it only some small satisfaction. He steps forward amid the dying flames and raises his sword high. After a moment's pause for reflection--and an Orcish curse spoken just under his breath--he plunges the blade down, cracking through Happs's ribs and spine, and leaves it there to soak in the blood as he approaches the remaining bandits.

At Annika's question, Prophet turns to her. She sees the same animal, predatory glimmer in his eyes and grin that Theo noticed earlier, easy to see in close quarters without combat raging. The half-orc raises an eyebrow, almost as if he doesn't understand her question. "I̕ ͞s̀a̧i̛d ̛w͠e ͢w͠ould͠ h̨it҉ h̸a͞rd, dr̨iv͢e t͘h͡em͘ ͏b͜e͝f̛o̵re ̢ús͘,҉ ỳeah? A̧n͟d́ ̧ņow͘ w͞ę ͏ha̴ve. ́S͏e̵e how t͡he̡y r͏un,͝ ͝a̴nd̛ ͝we̵ ͠ha̢v̸e ̛n͡o l̶o̕s͢s̡es? T̴hi̶s̨ i̶s҉ ̡a ́v͘ict́ory ͜w̧ith͞ou͏t ̢ques͟tio͡n͡."

With that, Prophet makes his way toward some of the other bandits, leaving Theo to deal with the one he's chosen to question. "Y̡o̵u ̀w̸it͏ne̡ss my̶ ̶ḿig̶h̕t̨ an͢d̨ see͡ yo͞u̧r lead̢er̶ ͝d̶e̡a̸d͡. ̀M͠ak̸íņg ̛any̕ moves̡ ͝wo͞uld͏ be a ͘ba̸d id̷e̸a̧,̛ y͢ea͜h?" He raises his cestus'd hand, the metal gleaming in the sun, and hooks a thumb back at Happs's body, still burning and with a greatsword shoved into it.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 9 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 9 + 1 = 13


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

"V͞r҉a̡sub̸a҉tl̷ąt̢ ̧ud͞a̵u͜t͜a҉s͝!" Prophet's cry is a hideous growling shriek, filled with bloodlust and hate. He rushes forward, his sword trailing behind him, and leaps across the strewn debris hiding the bear traps. Landing on the far side, he brings the sword up and around, aiming to slash straight through Happs's armpit and out his opposite shoulder.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 1 = 14

Charge Attack: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 6 + 2 = 21
Damage: 2d6 + 8 ⇒ (6, 6) + 8 = 20
Sheeit. Maybe even succeeded at that goal.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet grins and nods at Theodore's response. "Th̡at͘'s rig͠ht, H͏apps.̷ ̡Yo̶u'v҉e got͝ ̴on̡e ̷o͠pt̢įo̢n ̶h͝ere͏. ͞On̴l̢y c̨h̛oic̸e͞ is w͠h̛et̕her̸ ̶yo͝u͠ die ̕l͢i͞ke͠ ̢a ̶ma̡n,̴ ͝or͘ ̨a ̵dog." Prophet shifts his stance and grips his greatsword with his off hand, still held loosely and pointing toward the ground, but ready to fight. "N̷ar̷ ̨m̢at͜ ̀k͟or͡dh-̡i͡s͏h͞i͠."

Intimidate Aid Another: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Ah--the map made it look like it had doors going on, so I figured it did and we could wait behind those. In that case, I'll just be outside with Theo, cause Prophet isn't good at Stealth unless he's channeling the right spirit. Also, on that note, to all: Don't know how much you might have looked at Prophet's sheet, but he's no longer a synthesist summoner--he's now a medium from Occult Adventures, since I thought that fit his concept better (and isn't stupid powerful), and Jon let me rebuild since we hadn't done any combat yet.

Prophet fights the urge to charge into battle, suppressing the spirit of wrath and vigor that surges through him. Instead, he lets his greatsword hang idle at his side, loose in his grip, and shakes his head. "Y͡o͢u͢ ͝mistake͜, fe͡llo͝w. ́Ẁe̢'re ̕o̵nĺy͝ ͠p͘as̶s͏in҉g th͘rou͘g̛h, ҉d̷o͠n'̨t ̕w̢an̡t͡ tro͠ub͝l҉e.̨H͞elp͠ ҉y̢oưrse̵l̶v͞ȩs." He steps to the side and gestures at the stores. "We ͢w̶ere҉ ̀si͜m̷ply in͠s͡pe̴c҉t̨in̸g ̨t́hei̴r ̀wàr̡es̵."

Bluff: 1d20 + 7 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 7 + 1 = 9 (+1 is from campaign trait)
Well, I'm about to get shot.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

If no one minds, I'd prefer to take a step back from that for just a moment...

After breakfast, Prophet gather his belongings from the bunkhouse and readies himself for battle. First he dons his chain shirt, along with a few rough leather guards for his forearms and shins, and a few other accouterments. He grabs his bag as well and moves for the storage house, where he sits inside the door and kneels down. At this point Theo might well be with him waiting, so he'd see this ceremony go down. If he is there, Prophet nods to him and comments, "I'm going to perform a bit of a ceremony here, something I like to do before battle when I get the chance. Feel free to stay here, watch, just don't interrupt me. It'll take a while."
That said, I'll spoiler the actual seance--I wanna write it out for the practice and in case anyone wants to read it, but since at least some of you probably don't care, I'll avoid a wall of text taking up the whole page.

The Seance Itself:
The half-orc begins by pulling a pair of small wooden blocks from his bag and setting them on the ground, about four feet apart. He then draws his greatsword from its scabbard, almost reverently, and begins to hum--a low, gravelly sound that comes from deep in his throat. He sets the sword on the blocks, balancing it so it won't tip over, and runs his hands along the blade several times, back and forth, his fingers swirling patterns across the cold steel as his rhythmic hum grows and fades.

After about six minutes of this, Prophet closes his eyes and reaches back into the bag. From within the leather he draws six candles, all of which look as though they've been burned before, and all of different lengths. Still with his eyes closed, he takes each candle and sets it on the sword's blade, evenly spaced from hilt to tip. He then reaches back into the bag and draws a flint and a stick of incense. Holding them together, his song turns from a hum to a chant, almost a murmur at first, but growing louder with each time he scrapes the flint and incense against the blade of his sword. After running it along the blade six times, he raises the flint and incense above his head and opens his eyes. Even in the dim light, it's easy to see that his iris and pupils have rolled back, leaving a milky white between his eyelids.

Bringing the incense back down again, he strikes the flint hard against the sword, scraping sparks into the air and catching the incense aflame. It burns brightly for a moment, and in that time he sweeps it across the candles, his chant dying back down to a low but quick murmur. Each of the candles lights in turn, his hand unerringly drawing the stick of bittersweet incense across the wicks, and then he sets the incense upright between the innermost candles, at the center of the blade. Despite the thin, rounded end of the stick, the incense stands on its won as he draws his hands back. Falling back into a simple kneeling position, Prophet folds his hands and waits for the call.

After the hour is nearly up, he hears it. M͠a͘l͞à̴̢z̴͘ ҉҉T́͜͠ą̸rn͘.̷͡ ̡́It͟ ͘h͡a̧s̵ ͟͢b̷e̴͞e͘n̵ ̵m̡҉á̶̧n̸y̶̴͏ ̶d̨̢a̧͟y͞͏̨s͜ ̷͟͠s̀i̷̡n͝҉ce͏͢ las̡t͜ ̀I̴ ̴ḩ́e̸̢a̢͜r̷̨͟d҉ ̧́y̡͡͝o̴̢͟u̡͘r̷̡ c͘̕͜al̕͢ļ̶́. ̸̧Y҉o͘u͢ ̡h̨a͟v̀͘e̴͜ ̡̛͟sh̶͘͢am̶̷̢e̸͘d͞ ̷͟ḿ͞è́,͜ ̶c̷͘hí̢͝ĺd̕.̧͢ The voice is ancient, impossibly timeless for an orc, raspy and strong, deep and everywhere.

Not at all, Kordatar, Prophet replies in his mind. For every great warrior knows there is a time for battle, and a time for peace. Ambor mabas lufut--liquor after war. The time for rest was upon me. Now it is the time for battle and blood.

S͝҉o͏ ͜ýo͞͠u̕ ̶͢c̴a͘͡l͡l͞ ̶o͝͏n̸ m͢e̕ ̧͡n͏͡ow͜.̴̧͢ The voice sounds pleased, in its way--as a berserker is pleased to hear his enemy's bones snap, as a wild animal is pleased to rend and tear the flesh it consumes. W͏į̸̀s̨̕e,̷̨ ̸̶͡ch̡i̢͠ld̶ ̶́͘ò̸̵f ͠͏M̵à͏n̷͢.̡̨ ͟͡͠M͞y͠͏ ̢͘͏str̵̶e̴͜n̨gth͠ ͏f̧̨l͏͝ơ̸w̴̷̨s̨͏ ̕͝ţ̛͜h҉r͢o͝u͝͞g͠h́͜͡ ̧͜a̶̧l͢͠l̵͏͝ ͘͞o̶͠r̸c v҉e͡i̶͠n̶s̵̡,̧ ҉̷bu̧҉t̀̀͘ ̛́f͟o̢͟͞r͠ ͡͞ý̷͜ơ͘͘u͡, ̴͠i̧t̡̕ ̨̀wi̧̢ll̷ ̡̕f̵͞l͠o̷w҉̵ ́t͏̶h̸ro̷҉ù͞g̀ḩ͞ ́̀͢t̷̵h̛̕͞e͢ ̸s̀ṕį̨r̴̨͠i̕t͘,̴̢ ̷̴a͝s̶ ͞w̴̶͘el̶l͘.

So you will aid me this day?

A͟s͢҉̕hd̶͜͞a̛ú͜t͞a͜ş̧̕ ̶̛V̴̧r̷a͞s͝ub̸͠at́͟l̨a̧̕ Someday I will kill you. A common Orcish greeting.

Nar Udautas. Not today. The reply.

After the seance ends, Prophet opens his eyes once more, and they have returned to their normal appearance. He calmly lifts the sword and tilts the blade, and the candles flicker out as they slide down into his waiting bag. He kicks the blocks in as well, then kicks the whole container to one side of the storage house. He turns to Theo, who sees that Prophet's tattoos have changed color, now appearing to be running rivulets of fresh blood tracing lines across his skin. The half-orc grins, and there is something predatory in his smile.

"M̢i͘rd̀auta̕s͞ v̵r̶as̕," he says, and his voice is different now--deeper, rougher, and somehow older. It has the tones of men who have seen hundreds of battles, who have stood through them all and proven themselves greater than their enemies. "It is a good day to kill."

That said, I thought the plan would be for Prophet and Theo to hide inside the storage house to attempt to surprise the bandits, rushing out when they got close enough--say, when the first of them triggered one of Eran's traps. Of course, having Theo wait outside to "greet" them would be reasonable. In any case, Prophet was hoping to get some chance at an element of surprise.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet smiles to the woman and shakes his head. "I'm surprised that you ask, Missus Leveton. But then, you've been worried by these bandits for some time." He takes a sip of his drink before continuing. "I've done some hard living out here on the frontier. Had to do some things I didn't like doing. Had to do some things I'm ashamed to admit I did enjoy. And some that were hard, but enjoyable for it. Can't make a scrambled mess for breakfast without breaking eggs, but it sure is tasty, right?"

He muses over some chewing for a few moments, then swallows. "Point is, if I couldn't sleep because of the threat of violence, I'd be a very tired fellow. Growing up in the Hold saw to that." He finishes his plate and stands up. "And I promise I'll do everything I can to insure his safety. If things go according to plan, the bandits will focus on us, and hopefully the mad orc-man swinging a huge-ass sword will draw more attention than your husband."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet rises a little after the others, only waving his hand and grunting when Oleg visits in. He finally gets up a few minutes later and does some stretching in the bunkhouse, cracking his joints and yawning heavily. He dons his equipment and throws his sword baldric over his shoulders, then makes his way to the dining room for food.

The half-orc enters as Theodore's prayer comes to an end, and oddly enough, he bows his head slightly and pauses until he finishes. After Annika adds her piece, he nods. "Indeed, all the gods of righteousness, and also Gorum, the Lord in Iron. His blessing we ask most of all, for he cares not about righteousness or wickedness, penitence or greed." Prophet steps forward as he speaks, moving to an open seat and standing behind it. "No, he cares only for strength--strength of body, strength of drive. The strength to take what you desire, and keep it. To impose your will on the world around you, to fight and hold fast before danger and adversity. That is what Gorum stands for, and that is what we need today--for our enemies seek the same. And whichever of us claims it more will live out the fight and reap the fruits of the future."

He takes a seat and grabs a piece of fruit, taking a large bite and chewing eagerly. "Of course, if you're fighting for the right side, so much the better, eh?"


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet lets out a low chuckle at Theodore's comment. "I'm no wildman, not quite that mad when it comes to combat. Not likely to take a swing at my allies or anything like that. Just tend to have a slightly more... boisterous? Personality." He scratches his neck and gives a shrug. "Call it a battle technique I honed back home. Inviting the spirits of the great warriors to fill me with strength."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet gives Annika a toothy grin that isn't very jovial. "Now you're getting it."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

"By all means." The half-orc turns to Theodore and smiles. "After all, if we don't let some of them live to tell the others, how will word get out that this trading post is off-limits?"


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

"That's why we use scare tactics. Come out in a rush, put the hurt on them, show them we're not to be trifled with. You'd be amazed how willing people are to change their minds when they're scared." Prophet says this calmly and a beat passes before he hastily adds, "That's what happens to homesteaders around these parts, you know, when the bandits hit them. Us. Lot of good people parting with their hard-earned belongings."
Bluff: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22
Keep it together, Prophet. You heard what they do to bandits.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet's sword is an old relic of the temple he stayed at for a while, and while he probably wouldn't admit it himself--if he even realizes it at all--he is pretty attached to it. I'd rather get the opportunity to enchant it than simply trade it in.


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet walks around the outpost to get a look at things, and confers with the others where necessary, but when he approaches the storehouse he gives a nod. Once he finds the others, he tells them his plan for himself: "I'm going to be waiting inside the storehouse, near where Oleg and Svetlana typically greet their... 'visitors.' Once they come inside and start to approach, I'll give them a warm orcish welcome." He grins and pats the hilt of his sword. "And I should mention that when combat comes, I tend to get a little wild. Nothing too crazy, shouldn't be a danger to anyone I don't intend. But I'll probably lose a little of the easygoing, lovable demeanor I'm sure you've all gotten to like."

He gives a sarcastically sweet smile and leans back. "You folks are probably hoping for a little more tactics than that, though, eh?" Glancing around, the half-orc gestures as he speaks. "If some of you hide 'round the corners of buildings or in the doorways to come out at the bandits from behind, that'd be good. Don't want any escaping unless we choose, you ken. And with archers hidden up on the towers shooting down, we should get a pretty good ambush set here. Traps if we like, although it might be tough to hide them without undergrowth. If we had more time to dig a pit... Well, we can work with what we have."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet shakes his head. "Not to worry, Miss Svetlana. Where do you normally meet these brigands in the compound when they come calling? Maybe they'll like a change of pace and see a new pretty face to rival your own." The half-orc grins and takes a draught of wine. "Plus a big sword. Bandits enjoy that, I'm told."

Prophet holds out his elbow for Svetlana and smiles, perhaps genuinely for the first time, as Ox gives his simple but heartfelt oath. "Well said, friend. I look forward to killing rogues with you." He turns to the woman of the post. "But please, lady, if you would show me where I can lay in wait for the bandits?"


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet nods to himself, then with Ox's statement. "Snap the neck, swift justice, that's right." He stands and pours himself another goblet of wine before addressing the group. "Bandits around here aren't unlike birds, really--they're flighty. A loud noise and strong approach can scare them off, especially what I've heard of Happs and his crew. If we overwhelm them from the beginning, show him and his that this outpost has new guardians and come out in force, he may well turn tail and run. Traps and such tricks aren't a bad plan, but simply making our presence and combat ability known may be enough."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet looks on as Ox and Annika have their staring contest, and he takes an opportune break in the conversation to point at the large man. "Now, you, I like. No manners in the f*ckin' handbook is right." He laughs and raises his goblet, then falls back as the others begin making plans for the bandits. Seems they're eager, at least.

He drums his fingers on the table as Svetlana informs the group of their less-than-stellar tactical situation. At least we do have surprise, like the excitable one says. But we'll need a little more than that. And using the Kardator will only get me so far against a man like Happs Bydon...

Wisdom: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

"Aye," Prophet comments, giving a smile to the troubled woman. "I can't speak for these folk, but as for myself, I'm more than capable in a fight." He pats the greatsword's hilt and looks to the other travelers. "And I guess this'll be a chance for you city folk to prove yourselves on the frontier. Might have to eat my words in a few days."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet sits by, holding his tongue as the others respond to his words and chat amongst themselves. They talk plenty, and they seem good enough. Maybe capable. But they're city folk. A noble--a lesser noble's a noble still--and a Swordlord in training. And the diplomat and his... excitable friend. The half-orc calmly drinks some more of the wine and plucks at the bread as the other woman walks in, and only raises an eyebrow as the talk turns toward bandits. Well, looks like I've found interesting company, at least.

As Oleg bursts in, angry about the state of things, followed by a particularly loud and odd man, Prophet continues to quietly eat and drink, eyeing the proceedings sidelong. His only change in demeanor is a slight pause in drinking at the mention of the bandits from Oleg, barely a beat passing before he closes his eyes and finishes off his goblet. After Oleg leaves and Annika once again offers aid, he sets the cup down and clears his throat.

"I agree wholeheartedly. We will quite gladly assist in dealing with these troublesome brigands, Missus Svetlana, although any information you can give would be greatly appreciated. I've been in the region long enough to have heard about this Happs character, and he certainly seems the dastard. It would be a service to you and all the area if we helped put him down."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

"Whoa, whoa." Prophet holds up his hands and raises his eyebrows. "Now hold on here, I didn't mean to cause a fight or anything. Now, I'm certainly not saying that your own hardships aren't worth anything. I don't know what you've been through, and you don't know my story either. But see these scars? Every one of them has a story behind it, every damn one." He runs his fingers across his arms and chest, tracing old lines of scarred-over wounds and tattoos. "Beatings, whippings, fights won and lost."

He turns to Eran. "As for you, boy, it wasn't stories I was calling rubbish, it was your title. The 'blah di blah' part?" The half-orc shakes his head with a grin. "You two seem awful quick to judge, huh? I try to comment that you might stand a chance and you jump down my throat and up my ass at the same time." He sighs and pulls off another piece of bread. "And there's a good distance between honor and thieving. We're in the Stolen Lands, border regions. Nothing here's as clearly defined as you're used to."


Male Half-Orc Medium (Relic Channeler) 2 | HP 13/18 | AC 15, touch 11, FF 14, CMD 15 | Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +4 | Init +1, Perception +5 (darkvision 60 ft)

Prophet gives a small chuckle at the talk of the others as he helps himself to some wine and bread. At the looks he probably receives, he shrugs. "Just interesting to hear the tales of outsiders. You folk obviously haven't been here long, it shows." He breathes deeply and takes a sip of the wine. "This is rough country, filled with rough people. Sure, you look like you can handle yourselves, but you also look fairly soft, whether you mind my saying or not. 'Heroic Swordlords?' I don't know that even the idea holds up out here."

He tears a chunk of bread off and pops it in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing before continuing. "No, here it isn't about honor, or noble titles--good that you already consider that talk rubbish--or 'personal representatives' or anything like that. It's kill or be killed, take or get taken from, most of the time. You have to be tough or smart or both to make it out here." He takes another sip of wine and turns his gaze back to Eran and Annika, flashing a smile. "But I'm sure you knew that already."

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