I have GM stars I can burn, so no worries about me. Any of those would work for me!

Aye! Me, too. I need to get to level 2 to multiclass into Skald or Bard or Singer/Songwriter.

"Punk rock will never die. But it could be soul-switched into a doll for a while. But the doll is b!tchin' cool. ...b@llocks." Bad Seed adds.

"So.. what do we do with the death doll?" Bad Seed mutters. "It could.. you know... stick with me. Frickin' sweet t'scare losers with."

I hadn't thought of it before, but now? Totally liking that idea!

Bad Seed looks sadly at the dead tarp monster, but then brightens slightly before affecting his usual stony punk demeanor at the thought of the EPIC song this is going to make. He wonders if he could invent a musical instrument to make the wicked splinter spraying sounds...

Bad Seed sneers as his first shot goes wide. He decides that repetition is the soul of hitting things and fires again!

Fire Blast Bad Touch: 1d20 + 3 - 4 ⇒ (4) + 3 - 4 = 3 for 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3 fire damage! Miss chance: 1d100 ⇒ 85

Bad Seed nods at the bada$$ little doll as it explodes into murder splinters. That was punk, yo.

He moves north of the doll and flings at wad of fire at the flapping murder tarp.
Ranged Touch o' Fire!: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7 for 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5 fire!

Bad Seed slumps along, but he brightens up when he sees the bats, remembering how crispy they got when he lit them on fire back at Mercy. He starts playing with a small flame, rolling it around in his palm, humming a deep bass line under his breath.

Climb DC 5: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11
Climb DC 10: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Boon!: 1d20 ⇒ 3

"B!tchin'." Bad Seed mutters, watching the flapping tarp monster flap away. Of all the monsters he's met, that one looks the most like it needs to be on a band's album cover. He has a slight plant crush on it.

Bad Seed moves to the south, still peering at the flapping tarp monster. He shrugs; it's not as punk as he hoped, and flings another fiery blast at the bats!

Bat Flame Attack: 1d20 + 3 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 3 - 2 + 1 = 15 for 1d6 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 - 2 = 5 fire damage!

Will Save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

Bad Seed begins to shake and shiver. "...wicked..." he mutters.

He flings another blast of fire at the bats!

FIRE!: 1d20 + 3 - 2 ⇒ (1) + 3 - 2 = 2 for 1d6 + 2 - 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 - 2 = 1 fire blast!

Bad Seed nods. This is the epic album cover he's been waiting for. All it needs now is more fire!

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12
Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20

Bad Seed lets out a howl of righteous punk anger and flings a blast of FIRE at the bats!

FIRE BLAST: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15 for 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5 fire!

Bad Seed grumbles and slouch-runs toward the sound of screams, too. Maybe they'll turn out to be a really b!tchin' band?

Bad Seed slouches further. "'sup, little human?"

"Wait. Tiny metal doll is missing Pathfinder? ...awesome."

"Wicked. Bat gods. Sweet."

"...some of us are awesome..." Bad Seeks mutters.

He lights a small flame in the palm of his leaf and lets it dance there, whispering in the breeze.

"This crap is WICKED." Bad Seed announces, imagining the kicka$$ album cover the broken doll and the murder lyrics will inspire.

Feeling self-conscious about following the sheep-plant-people, Bad Seed nonetheless follows.

"Whya lookin' at dolls?" Bad Seed mutters. "Dolls're stupid."

"Stupid tree's not a god. People aren't plants. Pathfinder ain't here. Stupid town." Bad Seed mutters. "Why'd 'Menira make dolls for the kids? Makes no sense."

Bad Seed glowers for a moment at this explanation. "You lie to save the children? Huh." Bad Seed considers this and comes to the conclusion that, well, that's pretty punk. "Wicked. You don't suck as much as I thought."

Bad Seed slouches toward Gomorrah.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19 Bad Seed glares at the woman.

"...bet it burns good." Bad Seed mutters, flicking his fingers and causing a flame to dance on his hands. He grumbles a bit more, staring at the ground.

Bad Seed sighs deeply, feeling the weight of the world's stupidity cover him. "Jus' a tree." he mutters. "Don't even walk around."

Bad Seed slouches behind he others, giving out dirty looks like it's candy at a parade. He occasionally swears to himself and glares sullenly. Because that's what he does. "'his place sucks." he mutters.

Sorry, I had to run out of town to a funeral and my internet access was spotty. I'm back now.

Bad Seed takes a handful of berries and eats them, slowly, glaring at anyone trying to stop him. "Amenira's house. Stupid temple."

"Suuuuuucks." Bad Seed adds, prowling around the tiny place, already feeling hemmed in, oppressed by the Man. Damn the Man.

Bad Seed slinks backward, lighting his tendril on fire to discourage being eaten by this sick, sick policeman and his veggie hungry town.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

"Screw your rules." Bad Seed mutters, glaring at the Po-po.

"Walking." Bad Seed mutters.

"B@llocks." mutters the Sid Vicious worshipper, and holds his club out for the Sheriff.

Bad Seed's eyes go wide as his party members display prowess. Despite his best efforts to appear jaded, he's impressed. He shakes himself and mutters his battle cry. "B@llocks."

He moves 20', and flings another blast at the gnoll. Ranged Touch, into melee: 1d20 + 3 - 4 ⇒ (5) + 3 - 4 = 4 for 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3 fire!

Yikes! I missed the long weekend and you all got busy!

Bad Seed creeps forward, muttering sulkily. "...never wanted to go walking. Shoulda burned it all down..." Seeing the hyena and gnoll things, he smiles. Fur burns really well, after all.

He flings a blast of fire at the gnoll! Ranged Torch Touch: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13 for 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6 fire damage!

"Gettem!"

I agree. Learning a new board's coding and quirks is an undertaking. I still hold out faith that the tech crew can tame this wild beast.

"Should jus' go. Let 'em try to stop us. B@llocks." Bad Seed mutters, to no one in particular.

Bad Seed stares around him, stuffs his hands into his pockets and sulks like a champ.

"Place sucks. Smells. B@llocks." He slumps as he slouches.

"B@llocks." mutters Bad Seed, but he shrugs and follows the other mental patients.

Bad Seed mutters something that sounds like a growl and a series of dirty words in Sylvan. He follows this up with a "Strange, yeah. Storms is bad in the Wastes, so? S'pposed to be strange, yeah."

"B@astards." Bad Seed mutters, taking in the ghostie man, the loud metal hand leshy and the stoned leshy.

The pierced leshy looks at the hand and nods. "B~&%%#!s." Still he shakes the hand. "Name's Bad Seed. Least that's what they call me."

The leather jacket-clad, weirdly pierced with random bits of metal, spiked leaf-hair wearing leshy struts into the room. "'S crap." He announces to the maid in a slightly high pitched voice. He sneers, but grabs a cup of tea and thrusts his hand into it, allowing his root system to drain it down to the leaves. "Ooooo." he murmurs as the caffeine hits his system and percolates through.

Spotting the others he nods diffidently. "'Sup."

I'm calling you Thicket. Called it.

Player: James Martin
Character: Bad Seed
Pathfinder Society Number: 1904-21
Faction: Liberty's Edge
Slow Track or Normal: Normal

This Chronicle #: 1
Starting XP: 0
Initial Prestige: 0
Initial Fame: 0
Prestige Spent on this Chronicle: 0
Starting Gold: 13 gp
Day Job Roll: none
Gold Spent on this Chronicle: 0
Anything else you want me to note on your Chronicle: Super excited to play!

Lorezo, can he have a weapon called the Salad Shooter? Please?