Abittus Rullio, The Chronicler's page

Chronicle looks good. Thanks for running DoubleGold! Thanks all for a fun table.

Player Name: Lysle
Character Name and Number: Abittus Rullio, The Chronicler 90900-2016
Faction: Envoy's Alliance
Day Job: Academia Lore: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11

Reflex: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
Reflex: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18
Fort: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Fort: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

"I am afraid that it doesn't quite work out that way," Abittus informs Nefram weakly as he winces through the pain of the poison flowing through him. "Indeed, we Pathfinders quite rarely get to keep what we find. And, in those rare instances when we do, we have to pay for the privilege."

"But, I suggest that our next move is to have a conversation with officer Elrekah on the surface," he suggests. "What you get to keep--or where you yourself may be kept--most likely will be up to her."

Abittus, Fort: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

"Tr-try slashing i-it," stutters Abittus as he reels in sudden pain. Realizing he has no slashing weapon, he releases a sigh and reaches for his rapier before approaching the swarm.
Manipulate
Step
Then, he swings his blade trying to cut a swath through the insects.
Strike, melee (rapier): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
Damage (P): 1d6 ⇒ 6

Reflex: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11
Fort: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Hero Point, Fort: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

"Yeow!" screams Abittus covered in insects. "That was rather unpleasant."

Shaking his wounded limb, he mutters, "And I fear it may get worse."

Looking down at the creatures swarming his body, he inquires aloud, "What manner of insect are you?"
Nature to ID swarm: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Seeing the bullet have no effect, Abittus wants to know what will hurt the swarm.

The Pathfinder points out where to throw the next vial of acid for maximum effect by readying to toss a stone at the targeted spot.
Prepare to Aid another
Reaction when acid vial throw, Ranged Attack roll w/Cooperative Nature: 1d20 + 6 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 6 + 4 = 23
+1 bonus to attack roll of next acid vial by Marva

He then retrieves a torch.

Abittus follows the others. Upon spying the vats, he looks expectantly to Nefaram for an explanation as to what the man thinks their purpose may be. He is sadden that Nefaram seems to make no attempt to explain, but then looks on with joy as Marva quietly begins working with the powdery residue. He quickly retrieves some paper and ink and begins jotting down her process.

Perception. Init: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

"Sounds as good a place to start as any," concedes Abittus. "Please, lead on. After you."

@GM Doublegold - I have played (and run) this quest a few times and I must say, I find your interpretation of Nefaram Subeli to be rather interesting and unlike prior versions I have seen, which is always fun to see in a repeatable adventure.

There are others things I like about the way that you are portraying this NPC, but I will hold off as they contain potential spoilers.

"You have found some coffins or containers, then?" Abittus asks of the not-a-Pathfinder, unable to hide his excitement at the prospect of a discovery. "Could you take us to them?"

He starts to shake My name is Nefaram Subeli, and I'm not a Pathfinder, but I want to become the greatest Pathfinder that has ever lived, so I decided to start an excavation group. Others people thought I was a pathfinder, the guard and others in my group, so I'm on my way to becoming a great Pathfinder.

"Well, not the most auspicious start, I would say," Abittus quietly sighs, relieved that the "false Pathfinder" seems good intentioned enough--if, perhaps, ill-informed and overly eager.

"Becoming a Pathfinder--that is joining the Pathfinder Society and becoming a field agent--requires a bit more formality and training than you suggest." The chronicler tries to explain to the impersonator. "I mean, while it is true that some receive a field commission, most venture to Absalom to the Grand Lodge, where they receive months, if not years, of formal training and scholarly instruction. Assuming such a regime is completed with a suitable showing of aptitude and skill, then one may be confirmed through an initiation that is--quite rightly--called one's 'Confirmation'. Often, it is an assignment or task given to an agent individually, although--as in my case, which I suppose is not as unusual as I had once believed--the initiation is performed as party of a group or adventuring party. Though, I had been a chronicler in the employ of the Society for some time, I was not a field agent until--"

Abittus pauses for a moment as if having a realization. "But, it seems that I have drifted somewhat afoot from the matter at hand," he says, taking on a more authoritative composure. "If you are--as you suggest--'on your way to becoming a Pathfinder', then why don't you inform us of the information that you have already gathered regarding this underground structure and its history? Have you already surveyed the entirety of its interior?"

"You are a phony pathfinder with a phony name. What are you doing here really?" Marva demands of the stranger.

"I had considered being a bit more subtle about it. But, yes, that is the gist," Abittus mutters quietly, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of conflict.

Abittus looks at the leshy and the halfling. "We aren't expecting trouble, are we?"

He gulps. "I certainly hope not."

Society: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

"You may be interested in knowing that the depiction of the scarab beetles around the edges of these statues are actually quite common in Osirion tombs and other other places within the kingdom associated with death," notes Abittus as he approaches the depictions for a closer look. He takes out a piece of paper and begins to sketch the beetles, adding notes as to their dimensions and placement.

Once he completes his sketch, he retrieves another sheet of paper and begins a sketch of the entire column before retrieving another sheet to capture images of other features within the room. "I may need more paper."

I will be traveling over the next four days and may only have limited or no access to post. Please feel free to bot me as necessary.

Suspicious, the Chronicler examines the papers carefully.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

"It doesn't appear to be a forgery. The requester of this permit was Venture-Captain Norden Balentiir. And the date of approval is almost a year ago. Yet, with the exception of the date, this permit is essentially identical to the ours."

"As for this Durvin Kline, I suspect that he is no true Pathfinder," Abittus remarks. "Nor a detailed historian, given that the suspect individual presented is almost certainly an alias--and a poor one at that, given that is a witless amalgamation of the names of two true Pathfinders, Durvin Gest and Eando Kline."

"Durvin Kline, you say?" Abittus repeats with not a small amount of skepticism.

Pathfinder Society Lore: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11
Okay, Abittus is like a Pathfinder Society fanboy. I can't let him miss this one.
Pathfinder Society Lore w/Hero Point: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28

"Shall we be going then?" asks Abbitus.

"The approval sounds most fortunate then!" declares a young man as he looks up from behind a stack of papers, which he hurriedly tries to stuff into his backpack. "I've had a few field assignments, but none out in the desert. Sounds quite exciting, really."

Looking at the others assembled, he holds out a hand in greeting. "My name is Abittus, Abittus Rullio. I am a long-time chronicler for the Society, but lately I have been receiving more field assignments. My last one took me out into a swamp. Dreadful place, really. At least the desert will be more dry, I suppose. If there is an excavation afoot, then we will need to bring shovels and digging tools, no?'

Lysle will be bringing this 2nd-level swashbuckler (still need to level him up).

Chronicle looks good! Thanks for running, GM Tiger! Thanks all for a fun run!

Abittus tries once again to disarm.

Athletics to Disarm: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (18) + 0 = 18

He then resigns himself to making a thrust with his rapier.
Melee Strike, rapier: 1d20 + 5 - 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 - 5 = 12
Damage P w/confident finisher: 1d6 + 2d6 ⇒ (1) + (6, 2) = 9

"Now, now! You've got him!" he shouts to Fynn.

One for All Designating Fynn for Aid, using Diplomacy
Diplomacy to Aid Fynn on Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7
Hero Point: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

Abittus releases a sigh as it seems inevitable that he must commit some sort of violent act. He reaches for his rapier, then tries to disarm the foe in front of him!

Athletics to Disarm: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (7) + 0 = 7

He frowns at his inability, then tries again.
Athletics to Disarm: 1d20 + 0 - 5 ⇒ (17) + 0 - 5 = 12

"Oh, my! This is all rather socially improper!?" Abittus cries out alarmed at the sudden turn of events. The chronicler attempts to back away.
Step

Then, he fires sharp phrases at his foes!

"You honor was sullied well-before we appeared, False-taram!" Abittus declares "As for your pants--that appears to be a more recent development!"

Diplomacy to Bon Mot v Baltaram Will DC: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

"As for your flunky," he continues. "This one seems as skilled in the art of warfare as you are in the arts--which is to say, 'not in the slightest'."

Pointing his barb-ish words at the henchman, he adds, "Put that away before you hurt yourself!"
Diplomacy to Bon Mot v Red Will DC: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17

On phone, so keeping it short.
Abittus tries to fit mingle.
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

Hero Point, Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

My post was eaten somehow, but the roll was a 14. No Voucher.

Realizing that Fynn took off while he was examining the artwork, Abittus rushes back across the hall to the gallery.

He does not see any of his fellow Pathfinders, but he is drawn momentarily to the artwork.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
Survival: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

He examines the brush strokes and realizes that the painting is not Baltaram's work. Further, he notes that the scale of the animals and trails is inaccurate, indicating that the actual artist has little or no hunting experience.

Survival: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
Arcana: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

"Most curious. It is my understanding that there are no squirrels in Magnimar," notes Abittus.

"I wonder where this piece comes from. Looks so tacky. Oh and did you see those two that just walked in? Wonder where they're from and how they could be invited to an event like this..."

"Oh, please forgive my lapse in manners," says Abittus as he bows deeply. "And, please forgive my appearance as well. I am a Pathfinder and have just come from the field. Unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to prepare myself for mingling among such connoisseurs as yourselves."

Fynn gets closer to the sculpture. "Excuse me, might this be a Trinsky piece?"

At Fynn's apparent urging, Abittus looks more closely at the sculpture.

"Newcomers are always welcome at the gallery of Asrennia Vaville. Please, come in, and enjoy the displays. The theme of the night is one of contrast between civilization and nature—you simply must tell me what you think. Enjoy your evening."

"Oh, thank you! I believe I will!" replies the wide-eyed Abittus, having never been to such an extravagant event before.

Fynn grabs a glass of champagne as the tray passes by. Looking at the displays he slowly begins to wander over towards the sculptures. "What do we have here?"

Realizing he is amidst a sea of people, the bookish young man has no desire to get lost. When Fynn heads into one of the rooms, he quickly follows.

"I believe this is a gallery of sculptures," he says without much thinking.

I believe I gave mine to Fynn or Abittus.

Then, I will give mine to Fynn, which I believe means we each start with 2 Hero Points.

"Oh, why thank you!" Abittus replies, eagerly accepting the invitation. "And, I admittedly am very pleased at the good fortune of encountering so many fellow Pathfinders here in Galt."

He lowers his tone, "This nation does not have the best reputation of acceptance of agents."

"Shall we be going?" With relatively little field experience, the chronicler looks to his fellow agents for guidance as to the next step.

A sign outside originally read "Travelers, Travelers!" but somebody painted "BEWARE" in red, changing the message to "Travelers, Beware: Travelers!"

A young man wearing a loaded backpack with papers and rolls of parchment peeking out of its stuffed pockets stars curiously at the sign, seemingly oblivious to the words of the halfling behind him.

I can check out this art gallery, but if it is as bad around here as you say why not just move to a different city? Start over somewhere else?"

"Art gallery? Bad?" The chronicler's head spins in response to the words he only half heard. "Some gallery is displaying bad art? Whatever would make them do that?"

"Admittedly, the appreciation of artistic endeavors is largely a subjective matter. Yet, one could argue, there are certain intrinsic characteristics that causes one to consider an expression within a particular medium to be a work of art rather than a simple practical construction or haphazard endeavor," the man begins to ramble. "Why, as a Pathfinder, I have had the good fortune of visiting quite a few locales of varying culture, each of which had its own distinctive style and approach to what one would consider art."

"If you would like, I could provide a detailed lecture on my travels--modestly few, thus far, as they may be--but informative nevertheless--" The man pauses for a moment, then realizes that he has been talking. "My name is Abittus Rullio. I am a chronicler for the Society. I didn't catch your names, however...?"

Aroha wrote:

Shanti the Healer wrote:

Chronicle looks good! Thanks GM. Now let's see if I can run it well... :)

Good Luck!

Thanks. I'm running this for Paizocon.

I'm looking forward to it!

Chronicle looks good! Thanks all for a fun (and quick) run!

"There is another creature?!" Abittus shrieks as he sees the large bipedal goblinoid lumber forth. "I suppose I should have realized it from the smell!"

Diplomacy for Bon Mot (Wit) v goblinoid Will DC: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

The Pathfinder shrugs, then rushes away.
Stride

Once a safe distance, he fires his hand crossbow at the goblinoid.
Ranged Strike hand crossbow: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
Damage piercing: 1d6 ⇒ 6

"Ouch! Ow! It it me! It bit me!" cries Abittus with shock and disbelief evident in his tone.

Fortitude: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21
Fortitude: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20

Mustering some courage, Abittus draws his hand crossbow and moves cautiously up the hill, seeking some cover from which he can keep an eye on the two smaller dinosaurs.

Retrieve Item, Stride x2

"One of the hatchlings, Babs, is missing!" She looks around frantically. "Please can you take a look for her while I stay here to make sure no more escape?"

"I would, of course, be happy to assist in any manner that I can," begins Abittus.

"I found signs that something broke into the enclosure, maybe another large reptile. I think we can follow the tracks, but it may have eaten her."

"Broke in?! As if on purpose?!" exclaims Abittus. "Oh my! This could be serious--and dangerous! Let us not forget dangerous!"

The man begins looking around for tracks, trying to assess just how many intentional beings he may have to contend with.

Survival to Track: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

His fear, however, begins clouding his analytical abilities.

I have one glyph, which I will give to Dran'Tilt

Abittus tries calling the young dinos.
Nature: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20

Then, he attempts to mimic their mother.
Performance: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17

Finally, he looks at the prints in the mud to follow those that ran off.
Survival: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20

A mountain of papers spread before him within one of the tents, a young human male is hard at work transcribing a series of scrawls etched out onto a piece of bark.

"I suppose this Pathfinder agent should be rewarded for creativity when it comes to finding resources for field notes, but these marks at rather difficult to discern,' Abittus mutters aloud. "If I thought this bark would have made the trip to Absalom intact, I wouldn't have bothered to volunteer to make the transcription, but it can barely be read in its present state."

The Pathfinder chronicler and scribe, who only recently arrived within Hillcross, sighs deeply, noting that the Pathfinder who had made the notes was already likely far from the Realm of the Mammoth Lords and now enjoying warmer and more comfortable accommodations aboard ship.

"I cannot make out, if that word is 'tusk' or 'task'--oh!" A sudden cacophony of concussive, striking sounds being made in rapid succession startles the man, causing him to accidentally knock over a nearby inkwell, whose contents quickly douse the paper before him.

With trepidation, the man grabs his hand crossbow and peers through the tent, attempting to ascertain the source of the sound. He is relieved to learn that it is just a woodpecker and is curious as to why so many have gathered around it.

Reading the note, he looks sadly back at the tent where the day's work now lies hopeless blotted out. The man gives a sigh and says, "I'll need to find someway to purchase some new ink and it is an opportunity to spend some time in the field, I suppose. If you fine folk are all headed to meet this, 'Xila', I would like to accompany you--if it is not too much trouble. I just need to clean up a bit and grab a few things, first."

"My name is Abittus, by the way--Abittus Rullio. I am with the Pathfinder Society," he offers by way of introduction. He goes to extend a hand in greeting then, realizing, that it is still holding his hand crossbow, he quickly puts his arm down.

"Sorry," he says, hastily offering his other hand.

I noted there was an open space on RPGChronicles, so I snagged it. Hope that was okay.

Chronicle looks good. Thanks again!

"I can't say that I have ever won a fishing tournament before," Abittus says with a smile as he admires the rewards. "I have so much to write about."

"I wonder if I could get ahold of that magical fishing lore for further study..."

Thanks for running, GM! Thanks all for a fun game with some interesting PCs!

Abittus reluctantly gets his feet wet to try and catch a fish.
.
Acrobatics: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Local healers are turning up to deal with injuries. One of the judges is interrogating Demed, who comes clean under the stern gaze of the judges. Deka asks that her brother be allowed to continue in the tournament without his magic bait, but since Demed’s actions endangered other participants, the judges are inclined to disqualify him.

"Magic bait!" exclaims Abittus. "Why, of course! That would explain the situation quite well, actually. For, you see, some form of arcane lure would be most useful to attract and charm fish when available fish were few, otherwise one could simply resort to more conventional means at considerably less time and expense."

"But, if such magic were employed in the bountiful gathering of fish, such as the schooling brought on my the presence of large amounts of bait within the water or in avoidance of a large predator--both of which occurred in recent circumstances--then the behavior of those fish subject to the charm would become erratic. Why, the magic itself, possibly in response to such a large amount of prey, would likely only surge in the intensity of its lure capabilities, drawing in larger and larger--not to mention, far more dangerous--forms of predatory sea life."

Arcana: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17

Abittus continues firing, reloads his hand crossbow, then again fires once more.

Ranged Strike, hand crossbow (range increment 60 feet, reload 1) v green: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17
Damage P: 1d6 ⇒ 2
Ranged Strike, hand crossbow (range increment 60 feet, reload 1) v green: 1d20 + 5 - 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 - 5 = 12
Damage P: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Frantically, Abittus reloads his hand crossbow and again fires it at the nearest crab.

Ranged Strike, hand crossbow (range increment 60 feet, reload 1) v green: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21
Damage P: 1d6 ⇒ 6

He then reloads again.

All Abittus knows that these are crabs of unusual size. What else are you doing? Once that is resolved, we are back at the top of the round.

Abittus retrieves his hand crossbow and fires it at the nearest crab.

Arcana: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13

"Are those...crabs?" Abittus notes, seeing the shelled creatures appearing.

Abittus recites the tale of the "One That Got Away".
Performance: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10