Ban of Voluse's page

Thanks GM Lorenzo!

Hmm. I thought I had already posted my data here...

Player: Tim M (Blake's Tiger)
PFS #: 230524-33
Faction: Liberty's Edge
Day Job: N/A

Ah, sorry. I thought Themyscria was Feared on her first turn.

Ban moves around towards the witch and thrusts when he spots an opening.

Rapier: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
P: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

Luck?: 1d20 ⇒ 10

Not that it matters currently, but I don't think the Brute has Combat Reflexes.

Ban makes his way out of the large alcove and into the main chamber, trying to slip past the brute in front of Themyscria in order to engage the devious looking and talkative halfling.

Opened AoO leaving Themyscria's square and then leaving the square immediately to her right.

Rapier: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Piercing: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Confirm: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
Critical: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

"Yes. We are quite awesome," Ban chuckles to Nina. "That stone will light our way better than my little candle." He blows the flame out with a puff.

"Let's gather this up for the Lodge and make an impression with Captain Dreng."

Later...

"What's happening?"

Earlier...

"She worships Pharasma," Ban says in a stage whisper.

The Present...

"Does anyone have a light? I'll be happy to lead the way, fend off any undead guardians, and steal all the treasure for myself," he says cheerfully.

"I don't think that's right, Damien," Ban says hesitantly. "Pathfinders, dead or otherwise, aren't called aspirants. But we should go to the wall to see what's what."

He murmurs to himself, "Free chickens make..."

"Sounds reasonable."

"Not I," Ban says. "Maybe it's a key? Slide it into a slot or something?"

Ban remains content to stand outside of the small tomb, dancing a copper along his knuckles and making it disappear over and over while the others do the heavy lifting.

"On your earlier question, priestess," Ban volunteers, "When the Venture-Captains send us out, they send us in teams. One of our duties is to cooperate. I think they test this duty by putting people of different--oh, how should I put it--mindedness. Not to mention, years of sneaking past dragons and priests of Urgathoa has probably ingrained the less-than-forthright habits on display today."

Ban chuckles at Damien. "It's not that far from the truth, if you think about it at all..."

"I'm not sure," Ban says honestly, "Dusty? Where'd you go? Now's not the time for being surreptitious."

Where are my Diplomacy Aids? Sadness.

"Greetings, Hadriana," Ban says with a bow. "I am Ban. We are Pathfinders, and we are on a bit of a scavenger hunt. The stone mason, Arkath, who is interred here. He left a clue for us that he had something buried with him that will help us today."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

"Let's see if the mason took a key to the grave."

"Or there's something hidden in the Shrine of the Fallen," Ban suggests. "What does Evil Grin's epitaph say?"

Ban eventually shares his findings. "Sure. The Wall of Names is a good place. We know what we're looking for there, at least."

"Wha-!? Where?" Ban looks around in confusion for a moment and then notes the rote and repetitive behavior of the gnome. "An illusion, I gather." He looks to Dusty for confirmation.

With the summoning circle disabled, Ban moves into the house and ultimately heads to and opens the northeast door.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 12

"I wonder how long he's been gone."

"If he has been gone so long," Ban wonders, "Is he still alive?"

He shakes his head at Dusty. "I only know how to deal with the consequences."

"Kind offer, but no thank you," Ban politely refuses the offer of undercooked or otherwise spider legs.

"Should we see if this illusionist is still alive and possibly more willing to talk after all these years," Ban suggests.

I'm going to be away at work most of the day.

Ban whips his cloak around his arm in a distracting display and then tries to stab out one of the spider's eight eyes again.

Rapier, Flank: 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 4 + 2 = 19
Rapier: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

Ban draws his rapier and steps into the corner to make room for the others and force an advantageous position. He stabs at the giant spider's eyes. "Do spiders taste good? Let's discuss once these two aren't trying to eat us."

Rapier, Flank: 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 2 = 10
Rapier: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

Lorenzo: Where are you getting that the spiders cover the area with webbing with a ranged web attack? It's not same as the web spell.

"Interesting!" Ban says with a grin. [b]"It's like one of those stories where the search for something simple turns into a quest for something grand."

The swords man strides down the hidden hall--patchwork cloak swirling in his wake--and enters the illumined chamber. He is not shy about approaching the desk.

Success!

Yes, my first map lacked permissions, too. :)

EDIT: But you do need to give us EDIT privileges unless you want to be doing all the moving of icons. :)

Map lacks permission. :)

Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (1) + 0 = 1

Ban takes a few steps back and then makes a spirited leap over the crevasse.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

The swordsman stumbles to a stop just short of the far wall and wine rack. When he turns around to the others, he scoffs at himself. "Oh. There was a board there. I don't know how I missed that."

"Is your pen nib on fire?"

Ban's eyes do indeed glaze over and he looks back to the half-orc siblings thinking that it would be more enjoyable to wait with them than being lectured on siege engines.

At least they're drinking.

"I have trained to overcome most physical obstacles and win in a duel," Ban says, "But I must rely on my companions' skill in the face of swarms or magical defenses."

"I'd try to keep my distance from any beast that stands as tall as an ogre or taller," the young swordsman comments, "Especially if it has a pair of steer horns."

"I'm pretty sure Dreng sent all of us to make some sore of joke out of it!"

Ban laughs heartily at the half-orc's comment. "Oh, no, no. I would never dream of trying to sneak into Miss Gale's cellar without her consent."

"I would expect the proprietress to know what lurks in her cellar," Ban comments with a wry smirk, "And I would expect it to be wine and spirits."

Ban takes the offered tankard of ale and turns, smiling at the friendly half-orc siblings. "You're better off than us. We don't even get to knock heads. Dreng sent us to pick up a bottle of wine for him, if you can believe it."

He takes a drink. "What kind of heads have you knocked?"

"You want us--all of us--to go get your parcel?" Ban asks skeptically, "How big is it? Is it full of rot grubs?"

“Before you judge, despite my current attire, I’m still a man of taste. The parcel is actually a special vintage of wine from the cellar of the Wounded Wisp. I’ve been sampling their finer wines in descending order of bottling. I dare not disappear from my current role in this district, but I also would appreciate some comfort items. After all, I doubt anyone would judge a supposed beggar sipping from a bottle of wine.”

"Oh," the swordsman remarks dryly.

Knowledge (History), Untrained: 1d20 ⇒ 15

"At least we'll have a chance to meet some seasoned Pathfinders. And get out of the rain."

I'm working the Labor Day Weekend, but I should still be able to post at least once per day.

"Well met, my fellow Pathfinders," the young man says with a bow, flourishing his patchwork cloak, which seems to be made from pieces of a variety of flags. "I am Ban. Most recently from Augustana but originally from Voluse, south of the Lake of Mists and Veils."

"I am a swordsman by training and trade and a traveler by choice," the youth continues amicably, "I don't know a lick about magic except that which can be done with a sword and a cloak. I do hope those of you who are divinely gifted will watch out for me should we get into a row and things go poorly."