Agirran, Lil' Fury's page

"%&##!"

"M&~$@# F#**%*!!"

With the help of a boat hook the boy begins fishing Einarr out of the water. Consider this an auto aid for climbing into the boat.

"*$&#^@% %^#*@ @$$!#%$ *%$ $$#&!!!"

"What are you guys doing up there!?"

Suddenly, Esper smiles. She turns and looks at the child.

"Well, hello, my dear. Couldn't stay away?" She smiles at him. "Do you or your father happen to own that boat outside? You see, we need to get this crate out of here, but it can't fall into the ocean, and with the floor as degraded as it is..."

She lets the thought hang in the air before smiling. "If you had a boat we could sail it right under that crate."

She's hoping if we find someone with a boat we could catch the crate if it falls. Or maybe pass it down gently. I guess we could also string up nets under there in case the crate falls, but I don't have any. Other crazy plans?

"You know who my father is?" the boy asks excitedly before the sullen, jaded, teenage veneer reapplies itself like stubborn wallpaper. "Sure. I gotta boat. What's it worth to you?"

Just a quick reminder, the wooden crate is big enough to house a major home appliance and is probably both heavy and awkward just based on its size. Someone who was both powerful and agile like Ostog the Unslain could probably pull off such a feat.

"Whoa. Better watch your step man."

Looking at the kid, and adding on to Perrine's comment, "Also Pathfinder stuff usually turns stupid dangerous with demons and devils..."

"Cool."

{Sizes Einarr up.}

"You here to rob the joint?"

[Gawk]

Esper shrugs, "Just being polite, child."

"Hey lady, I ain't no 'child'. I'm nearly 14."

To the old man, she replies, "I've come to collect my dancing clothes. Some fool locked them in that warehouse."

"No foolin'? Yer a real hoochey-coochey slave girl? I could get you in faster than yer half-human."

Noticing a nearby child/person staring at them, Esper gives them a smile and wanders over.

"Hello there," she says kindly. "What's your name?"

If he was fishing she also says,

"Catch anything?"

The young hooligan looks up.

"What's it to ya?" he says wiping his nose with his arm.

He seems to be with the old man, though he himself is not fishing.

[Watches with interest.]

[Looks curiously at Doughlas.]

"Sure, dad-err, Uncle Pinty-Hat."

journeyman locksmithery: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

5 gold and a moment later Annuit's "nephew" has the lock off and the door open.

"Ta-dah!" Pleasure doin' business witcha. And if anybody in the Guild asks I didn't do it." He says and the dashes off.

"Right dad. Your not me dear departed old man, but you're a codge 'ay? A longtooth. You know, an right old stump bugger. If you want though, I could be induced to pretend you was me pa, and that this was our house, and you lost yer key, and I was the only one who could get us in. Ay? Whatcha say dad?"

"Not so loud there dad. Anyone might hear." A scruffy street kid says sidling up to the group. "You lose your keys, dad? I could help you there. I'm sort of a journeyman locksmith."

mwk greataxe (enlarged, power attack): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10 damage: 3d6 + 9 ⇒ (1, 5, 3) + 9 = 18

SWISH! CLANG!!!

Not sure if he still has shield up (2 minute duration).

Agirran is already running in that direction. ;)

spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

Grease! Hey, I'm getting pretty good at this magic stuff!

greataxe v green (power attack): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8 damage: 1d12 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

SWOOSH!! Now I just need to remember how to KICK ASS!

greataxe v red (power attack, fury: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 5 + 2 = 8 damage: 1d12 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

SWISH!!

greataxe (freebooter, fury, AoO): 1d20 + 6 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 6 + 1 + 2 = 13 damage: 1d12 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 4 + 1 = 7

Then when he hits the floor:

concentration (cast defensively) DC 17: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

From the floor, teen Agirran cups his hands together at the wrists, aiming his fingers at the lightning being. He screams: "KAME-HAME-HAAAAAA!!!" And looses a bolt of water from his fingers.

CMB (bull rush, freebooter, fury): 1d20 + 5 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 5 + 2 + 1 = 21

If he pushes the elemental back 5+ feet Agirran stands up.

"Right!" Says the gangly fighter/wizard. Good. That just means I can hit anyone I want!

Oh! I thought he was in the room itself not literally at our backs. My bad. In that case....

Agirran casts shield and vaults Ptolomeo one-handed. He takes cover with Kyran behind a column. "What's the plan Fletch?"

Shaine is in your back, he will only act if necessary, though.

Could you put an x on the map? Or an arrow to point out where he is if he's not on the map. I just don't want to (for lack of a better example) fireball the man accidentally.

As far as I can tell, Tenibri (and maybe Dewdrop) is the only one restricted from moving. You can move through an ally's square; you just can't end there. Tenibri has 20' speed, so has to wait. The rest of you can all shuffle through each other. :)

Yeah, but I want to know where Shane is so I know where to move too.

"Dang it Corker! Are all a dwarves a slow as you?!" *Kick, kick, prod, prod!*

"What Shorty said! Move it Corker! I need to get in there and kick some ass!"

Where's Shane?

"Dammit Corker! Why in the Nine Hells are you always in my way, plugging s~&# up!" Bellows the still pretty tall kid.

Greataxe in one hand, a finger extended and rudely pointing from the other, Agirran the brat shouts: "रुक!"

ray of frost v someone's evil lunch (ranged touch, in traffic): 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (11) + 2 - 4 = 9 cold damage: 1d3 ⇒ 1

"Who in Nine Hells are the Harbingers of Fate?" asks Kyran.

"And what, exactly, are you asking us to do? Also, why are there,so many of you? Something to do with time that's going to make my head hurt?"

"The sods we're out to whoop; go get the hedge clippers back from the neighbors; and it's just me man, Agirran." The magically tall boy with Agirran's gear smiles down criminally. "And if you're worried about hurtin' yer head." He points up into the sky at the comet that is about to slam into the planet in general, and them specifically.

"Oh! You were talkin' to Poindexter here." He says in the feigned ignorance of a school bully or someone with a charisma score of 7. "Well keep talkin' but...." He points toward the plaza sundial. "Time."

He turns to Shaine. "So Poindexter, did I hammer all the nails?"

Agirran focuses on his magic and calls out: "INEH CHOH!"

If he has too he'll step back to cast safely.

1 ROUND LATER....

"GRRRR!!!" Hefting his huge axe the now giant boy aims a low growl at the crowd. People feel it vibrate their sternums before they hear it with their ears.

intimidate ('big man'): 1d20 + 8 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 8 + 4 = 23

"Dammit! I've lost some of my gravitas!"

Agirran the Fury wrote:

Oh and what happened to my action last round?

My bad, Agirran. I forgot your posted your action. That's was you get for posting an attack when you're not up to act. ;)

The battlefield slowly fades away from your eyes and the vision of the woman and her harbringers casting lightning is more and more real to your eyes.

The robed Heralds begin casting, and arcs of lightning leap to the rods made of skymetal. A deep thrum from somewhere below reverberates with chest-tightening force, then the earth begins to heave and quake. Emerald green miasma lashes out, snaking back along the arcs of arcane lightning and infecting hooded casters throughout the crowd. Your body—or perhaps the whole world—crumbles to dust and you hear a distant scream of “She’s overloaded it!”

And just as swiftly, the world is whole again, but in place of a flower-speckled field stands the sprawling marketplace of a small city. Ivory-white buildings and columns feature reliefs and endless statuary all depicting physically perfect human specimens in poses of glory over serpentfolk. A chiton-clad crowd of gawkers stares, both at you and at the roiling dome of green light that encompasses nearly a square mile of territory, beyond which this strange city stretches on.

Robed Heralds panic as they sprint beyond the edges of the glistening dome, only to collapse just beyond its border. There they scream and writhe, their bones cracking as flesh and sinew age to dust in mere moments. Meanwhile, those unfortunates consumed by the green miasma scream and stagger, their features warping and bloating as if the power seeking refuge within them were too big for mere flesh to contain.

And high overhead, a looming stone glows with a light visible even in the growing light of dawn.

A tall, gawky, unkempt kid draws up beside Forgrim and gives the dwarf a sidelong glance. He demands in voice filled with teenage accusation: "WHAT?!"

untrained knowledge (history): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22 Max 10 result

Then the kid looks up at the rapidly approaching extinction-level event and sighs. "I really HATE time travel."

Lil' Agirran recoups a 1st level spell (hydraulic push), and his arcane focus.