Bulroar Slip's page

Player: Bran
Character: Bulroar Slip
PFS#: 118824-2
Day Job: 15 (see gameplay)

Great game everybody! Thank you Baerlie.

Bulroar sees the minotaur fall and lets out a yip of triumph. He stows his bow and flips down from the ledge, but the fall is still a bit farther than he expected.

"No, really, I'm okay!" he shouts in protest as he wipes himself up and gets up, going to join the others. "Wow, Janira! That was amazing. Some confirmation, huh," he babbles on. "Good job everyone. High fives all around."

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21 to soften the blow.
Fall damage: 1d6 ⇒ 5 for the last 10 foot fall from the cliff.

Back in town, Bulroar starts writing a combined dance routine and fiddle piece to play in the streets of Absalom.

Day Job: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15 Perform (string) to capture the glory of their task.

Bulroar continues moving along the slope until he has a better view. "Come on, fly true," he whspers to himself. then he raises his shortbow to his cheek and fires.

The arrow flies, but not perfectly. I'm not used to shooting at these distances, he complains to himself, but I need to be better.

Move action to move into position, standard action to shoot.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (12) + 4 - 2 = 14 to hit the minotaur, one range increment away.
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 3 if attack hits.

Bulroar looks at the thick foliage and the distance between him and the river. It seems to stretch on forever. There's no way I'll make it in time, he thinks to himself.

He looks around, hoping there's another way. Maybe there's a slide or someth... Ooh, that would work. He takes off towards the western slope as fast as his little legs will carry him, reaching for his shortbow and arrow as he does so.

Double move to move up the slope, retrieving his shortbow at the same time.

Bulroar races after Gailen as fast as his short legs will carry hm. "Yes, we're coming!" he yells along.

Climb: 1d20 ⇒ 14 if necessary.

Looks like they didn't need much inspiring, Bulroar thinks to himself. Oh well, at least the fiddle is good for something. He plays a short little ditty on the fiddle and the smaller pieces of goo on him, Gailen, and then Fidgit fade away. "I've got you covered," he says to Fidgit with a laugh.

Bulroar casts prestidigitation to clean people up.

Done with his fiddling, Bulroar picks up and sheathes his rapier, then walks around to pick up his longbow. As he does, he takes a quick look around the cave to see if there is anything of interested.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4 to see if there is anything worth investigating further in the cave.
Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17 to see if there was anything else of use embedded in the cube.

Finally collected, Bulroar takes a moment to catch his breath, preparing himself to run towards the sounds of Janira and the minotaur.

Bulroar scrambles away from the cube, trying his best to avoid being engulfed by it.

Reflex: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23 to avoid being engulfed

Bulroar manages to escape the cube, stumbling past Gailen as he does so. "Ack! Gah!" he yelps as he tries to shake the slimy feeling of almost being caught by it. In his disgust, he lets his rapier fall to the floor.

Watching his sword fall to the floor, Bulroar manages to snap out of his disgust and focus on the battle at hand again. "I'm not letting that piece of demon gelatine get the best of us. We can do this!" he shouts in encouragement as he reaches for his fiddle.

Move action to move back from the cube, free action to drop his rapier, move action to retrieve his fiddle.

Intimidated by the speed of the gelatinous cube's reaction, Bulroar drops his shortbow. "A little help?" he asks the people behind him.

Bulroar recovers ably and draws his rapier, preparing it to swing. "Yeah, take that!" he yells, impressed by the speed of his own recovery.

Free action to drop shortbow, move action to draw rapier, standard action to attack.

Attack: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20 with his rapier.
To confirm: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17 don't think this applies to oozes, but just in case.
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

"Janira, janira, we're coming!" Bulroar yells, bounding forward in excitement.

His excitement fades when he sees a gelatinous cube blocking their path. He readies his shortbow, trying to find a clear shot through the narrow tunnels, and shoots.

"We'll get there as soon as we can, Janira!" he yells.

Move action to draw shortbow, standard action to attack (unless there isn't a clear line to shoot, in which case just ready the shortbow)

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 5 to the cube

"That was one quick scrap," Bulroar remarks. "I feel sorry for them. So small. I wonder what they were arguing about." He sighs.

Now that the rush of battle is over, Bulroar takes the time to look up and down the length of the river, peering up and down the tunnel through which it came. Leaning over, he almost falls in the river.

Attempting to make his fall look intentional, Bulroar wades across to where everyone else is. "Well, what's done is done. Might as well check the bodies."

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4 to notice anything odd about the cavern.

Bulroar takes a shot with his shortbow, aiming carefully. The arrow flies more accurately than he's ever shot in practice and he immediately lets out a "Whoop! Whoop!" of pride.

Standard action to shoot. Move action to get into a better position if someone blocks his shot.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24 to hit the red kobold.
Confirm critical: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 4 (X3 if critical is confirmed)

Does not include -4 for firing into melee

Bulroar sighs at Fidgit's flamboyant display. "Big folk, always rushing into things."

The Halfling draws his shortbow and moves forward to try to get a better shot, squinting and trying to see past Gailen. "And they get in the way of arrows, too, just when we find something that this little gem can actually hit."

After the red kobold's turn: Move action to draw shortbow and arrow. Move action to move forward.

Bulroar gathers up the amulet and ring in his bag, being careful to not touch either of them directly, and then runs after Fidgit and Gailen. "Yay, more exploring! Careful with those blades there, mister Fidgit.".

Bulroar takes a closer look at the amulet and ring, squinting hard. Then he makes scary faces at them. "Well, these things are magic," he says finally. "But I'm no devil wizard to reveal their secrets."

Eventually, Bulroar squints at the two items so much that he gives himself a headache. Stupid devil magic. He looks at the bones of the skeleton again. "Are those gillmen bones? If so, maybe we should take them back to Urori to show we rescued them." He sniffs the air, tasting the sick scent of decay. "Maybe that would be too creepy."

Bulroar keeps focusing detect magic on the amulet and then the ring if that will help, but he doesn't have Spellcraft

Bulroar waves his wand at Gailen, then remembers himself and switches to the healing one. "Oops, sorry about that esteemed lady," he says with a nervous laugh. His success is a little less theatrical this time, but it does the job.

Use Magic Device: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20 to attempt to activate the wand of cure light wounds
Cure Light Wounds: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8 to heal Gailen

Once he knows Gailen is taken care of, Bulroar reaches for his fiddle and plays a short haunting piece. Anyone who messes with the dead probably doesn't have just an ordinary ring.

detect magic on the dhampir's belongings

"Woo hoo!" Bulroar yells. "Now that is some flame." He does an exuberant dance, kicking the ashes before his feet.

Bulroar looks at the body of the dhampir and the debris on the floor, hesitating for a second. Nah, those skeletons probably sucked up all of the devilry here, he decides. The halfling rushes to examine the corpse and the paper detritus around it.

After a careful search, Bulroar realizes he is neglecting his duties as holder of the healing wand and turns back to the party. "Esteemed lady Gailen, it looked like one of those skeleton claws hit you. Icky skeleton claws. Do you need any healing?" He waves a wand in her direction.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12 to search around the dhampir's body.

Bulroar shudders in response to all of the skeleton arms coming at him and shakes his wand again. "Come on, fire!"

The wand sputters to life, shooting out a ring of flame that surprises the halfling. "Now that's fire!" he yips in delight. Luckily the conflagration avoids Gailen and Yorrick.

Use Magic Device: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25 to try to activate the wand.
Burning Hands damage: 3d4 ⇒ (4, 4, 4) = 12 to the blue and green skeletons. (Reflex DC 12 for half)

Standard action to activate the wand. A 30 foot cone from the top corner of Bulroar's square hits the blue and green skeletons but avoids Gailen and Yorrick.

"Yes, very impressive," Bulroar yells across to Fidgit as he ruffles through his bag looking for something. "Now try that on the skeletons."

"Aha," he says, pulling out one of the wands they recovered from their comrade's pack and displaying it proudly. After some waving and a careful incantation, the wand fizzles. "No, don't do that!" he yells at it.

Use Magic Device: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19 to activate the wand of burning hands

Move action to retrieve the wand, standard action to attempt to activate it.

Good to see you back.

"I'm sorry, dead people. Didn't mean to wake you," Bulroar says with a nervous laugh.

My arrows would go right through the holes in that thing's side, Bulroar thinks to himself. Instead, he draws his sling and steps out of the way of the entrance to let Fidgit and Yorrick through.

He winds up his sling arm, pumping as much of his little halfling strength into it as he can, and lets fly at the closest skeleton.

Move action to draw the sling, standard action to fire, 5-foot step.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22 to hit nearest skeleton
Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 1

"Well, someone has to approach it first," Bulroar says and leans forward, then thinks better of it.

He reaches into one of his pockets and brings out a sling pebble, which he lightly tosses at the dhampir's corpse. "Might as well be a rock."

Bulroar looks back in the direction of the tunnel entrance and calls to anyone who did not follow: "Coming?" he asks. "I think more company would be merrier."

Ranged touch: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (18) + 0 = 18 (+4 Dex, -4 improvised) to try to hit the dhampir body's square.

Bulroar looks around the cave inquisitively, then stares at the body. What could have done this, he wonders.

"Clearly didn't run fast enough." He shakes his head and sighs, then sniffs at the stale air. "Even the paper is rotting. Seems almost devilish."

Bulroar stays behind Gailen, knowing her weaponry is better than his, and reaches up to pat his shortbow.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6 to try to figure out what killed the dhampir and if it still here.

"Good," Bulroar says with a deep breath, "this way has footprints, so we might get to meet more people." He looks around the cave again, then back into the darkness of the tunnel and shivers, "Maybe they won't be as friendly as Urori here," Then he shrugs. "but we can fix that."

He bounds off to look at the left tunnel, peering into the darkness again with new-found glee. Then he looks back at the rest of the party. "Coming?" he asks.

Ready to go as soon as everyone else is.

"Yay for trusting in luck," Bulroar says as he riffles through his pockets.

He finally finds the coin he was looking for and tosses it to Gailen. "I call heads to the right. Care to do the honors, esteemed lady?"

For a second a shadow of doubt passes over Bulroars face. I hope that trusting in luck isn't some big insult to the gillmen gods, he worries, but that shadow soon passes. No, luck is lucky, what could be better than luck.

I guess just roll 1d2, go right on a 1?

Bulroar suddenly gets tired of praying (it really isn't his style) and jumps up, running over to inspect the two tunnels out of the chamber. He looks out as far as his halfling eyes can see, trying to figure out which way looks more dangerous.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8 to see down the tunnels

"I don't know, they both look dark and menacing," he finally says. "Should we just flip a coin?"

Bulroar looks at the streets some more. "Hmm, are there any rituals that people usually do before the Starstone?" he asks.

I doubt anything will happen, he thinks to himself. I'm sure Aroden cares nothing for halflings. How else would Cheliax have gotten away with everything?

He kneels down facing the cathedral and issues an ironic prayer: "Aroden, praise to your legendary name. It makes a great story." At least that will tell us if there's some sort of magic mouth or anything.

Bardic Knowledge: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5 Bulroar tries to remember any historic rituals.

"Missing gillmen!" Bulroar says with shock. "Well, that means we should try to have some found gillmen. That is, rescue those who have unfortunately gone missing."

"Uori, did the gillmen gods tell you that the missing gillmen were to the east or west?" Bulroar asks, pointing to the two exits from the cave.

After listening to the gillmen and doing a closer inspection of the city for a few minutes, Bulroar starts to fidget more. The gillman's request for help might be a trap, he thinks to himself. It's probably a trap. Always a trap.

Bulroar grows tired of meditating (his attention span is pretty short), and walks into the water to inspect the model city better. After marveling at the structure for a while, humming to himself as he does so, he walks back to where Gailen and Uori are sitting.

"Uori, if you don't mind me asking," he says with a deep bow, "what do the gillmen gods say?"

"Thank you, sir or esteemed lady, ...," Bulroar says and then pauses, waiting for a name.

He approaches the water slowly, trying to get as good a look at the city as he can without passing the gillman. "Oooh, meditating always sounds fun," he says when he's level with the gillman. Then he sits in the water, trying to be calm but still fidgeting.

Did he say worship Aroden, Bulroar thinks back. I mean, I know the gillmen can be naïve, since all that trouble with the abolieths and stuff, but surely even they have noticed the old human stopped speaking.

Finally, he looks at the gillman sidewise. "Are you a priest of Aroden?"

Sense Motive (untrained): 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (16) - 1 = 15 to see if there is anything odd about the gillman

When the creature seems surprised to see them, Bulroar becomes much less exuberant. He steps backwards and bows. As he does so, he sweeps his arm out in a grand gesture designed to put Lady Gailen in center stage.

"Oh, sorry to surprise you. We were just exploring..., er, coming to say hi."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4 to make a good first impression.

Bulroar will attempt to assist, but he will defer to Gailen if she makes any indication of speaking up.

Bulroar waves his hands enthusiastically at the creature kneeling in the water, trying to get its attention. "Hello, friend," he says cheerily, "nice cave, home, possibly not home, place, thing."

He waits semi-patiently for the creature to respond to Lady Gailen and tries to get a better look at the creature, hopping from side to side as he does so. For a moment, he looks behind him, sees Fidgit with his hand on his sword, and gives a wan smile.

If the creature responds to Gailen's request positively, he rushes towards the statue, stops halfway across the pond when he realizes he's been a bit impatient, then rushes the rest of the way.

Have a good trip Korin.

I'll also be without internet access this weekend too (Friday through Monday). The stats in Bulroar's profile are all updated now, should they become necessary.

Bulroar bounds after Gailen, although he takes care to stick at least somewhat close to the group formation they were following before. He is all bounces and excitement until he almost misplaces his footing, after which he catches himself and returns to a more somber walk.

When they come to the pool, Bulroar gazes up at the tiny city, jumping to try to get a better look. "Wow, it would be nice to get a better look at that," Bulroar says. "Do you folks think those centipedes are poisonous or dangerous enough that we need to deal with them first?"

Is the sculpture of a city high enough that we would have to climb to get a better look, or can we just walk over to it?

After staring in awe at the miniature city for a few seconds, Bulroar looks around again. "Still no sign of the gillmen that she was talking about.... I wonder where they went."

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 = 13 Bulroar tries to get a better look at the miniature city, then looks around to see if there is anyone trying to stop them from getting closer.

"At the old school in Cheliax they told the humans that the oldest drawings of this kind are found in a place called Pilgrim's cave, carved by Aroden himself," Bulroar remembers. "Now those must have been the carvings of a naïve man. It would be nice to see them though."

Bulroar hums to himself, as if trying a tune, and makes another inspection to see if there is anything more to be found in the cave. Once he is satisfied that the cave has been thoroughly explored he asks if all are ready to go, leaning against the cave wall by the blue torches.

"Nice work, Fidgit," he says once the human is done with his book. "You clearly have a better eye for art than I, at least of the visual kind."

Would the brother be interested in singing a satirical piece about these paintings, Bulroar wonders to himself. Probably not. Oooh, but a satirical fiddle piece with completely serious music might be fun too.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18

Is there anything else we think we need to do in this cavern? I can't think of anything.

Bulroar wonders at the carvings on the wall, once he's deciphered the significance. "Wow," he says breathlessly, "people who actually cared about the legacy of Aroden. They must not really have understood the future of humanity." He shivers and looks around nervously.

Did the gillmen predate the rise of Aroden, Bulroar tries to remember. At the very least, this doesn't look like preferred gillmen territory. Too dry. "I wonder who left these carvings," he muses louder, "and if there's a story behind choosing this location or just some convenience. Maybe something worthy of a satirical fiddle piece."

"Hey," Bulroar cries out. His own voice startles him and he continues much quieter. "Would one of you like to take a look at these few sections?" he asks, pointing to the sections that seem the clearest. "They might not be impossible to decipher."

Untrained Knowledge: 1d20 ⇒ 11 (not sure that this can do anything, but here goes)
Bardic Knowledge: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10 to see if he can pick anything up from stories about similar topics

"Esteemed Lady Gailen," Bulroar says with a bow after he puts away his fiddle, "it looks like the bundle itself is useful: A lucky charm of a sort that reduces the chances of falling, poisoning, and being driven crazy. Of course, it only works if you wear it. Why don't you try it on, great lady?"

Bulroar wonders at the paintings around the cavern, letting out a single "Wow." He's no artist, and he has to do a lot of jumping to even see the top of the weathered paintings, but he tries to make a thorough inspection of all of them, attempting to memorize their details so he can report on them and maybe write a fiddle piece inspired by them. He also inspects the nearest torch on the path to come, trying to determine why they burn blue.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5 just in case
Acrobatics: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 25 Bulroar's acrobatics attempts to see the carvings above, basically flavor

"Well, I might as well do this well we've already attracted attention from shouting across a hole in the floor. Wouldn't want us carrying around a cursed cloak," Bulroar says as he takes out his fiddle and plays a short tune. He tries to play quietly, but the music still has an eerie echoy quality.

Bulroar casts detect magic and examines the cloak.

Bulroar peers into the darkness ahead, his posture growing smaller and more scrunched. "Oh, I didn't mean they were expecting us, just someone."

He looks around for a good hiding place for the plank. "Well, I can make that jump, so if the rest of you are willing to take the risk of the plank disappearing, we can certainly leave it here."

Bulroar is ready to follow anyone who carries a light into the dark, as soon as everyone is across.

"Hmm, that was a rather convenient plank," Bulroar says, scrunching his face to one side. "Someone is expecting visitors, even if we can't see them."

Bulroar watches his fellow pathfinders cross, expecting at every minute that something will go horribly wrong. When all have made it, he breathes a deep sigh of relief, then coughs at the smell of underground. "Well, let's best be off. The sooner we get out of this place, the better. Do we want to take the plank with us, to make sure someone else doesn't dispose of it?"

He eyes the bag Gailen retrieved carefully. I expect there's bones in that.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8 Bulroar stays suspicious as they walk further into the caves.

"Thank you for your help, Fidgit," Bulroar says as he passes the human the rope. "I'll try to catch you if you fall, but I'm not making any promises that'll stop you."

Once everything is secured, Bulroar raises his voice to say "Ready to receive rope climbers," stopping short of a yell. He looks around as soon as he speaks, hoping no one uninvited heard his voice, but he is too worried to actually observe.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2 just checking to see if anyone heard his shout besides the party.

Bulroar glares at Fidgit and his jump, which looks so graceful after his own previous failure. Under his breath he mutters something about "Long legs."

Bulroar rummages through his pack and pulls out 50 feet of silk rope. He looks around for something to tie it to. "Now that you're over here, would you mind giving me a hand?" he asks Fidgit. "I'm a bit small to be lifting folks this height."

If he doesn't find anything, Bulroar and Fidgit can just hold the rope. Bulroar has Strength 12 for heavy load 87–130 lbs, lift 260 lbs., push/pull 650 lbs., and will put down his pack to get a better hold on the rope.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12 to find somewhere to tie the rope.

"I should hope so, esteemed Lady Gailen. I've had to jump out of more than a few hellish frying pans, if you take my meaning." Bulroar eyes the other side of the pit, trying to make out what sort of situation he'll be getting himself into and if there is somewhere to secure the rope on the other side.

Bulroar waits until everyone looks ready to go. Need to make sure I don't end up all alone and in trouble over there. Then he motions to the others to clear a path so he can get a running start and makes a long running leap at the other side. He almost slips, which messes up his takeoff, but he still doesn't look completely incompetent.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10 to jump to the other side.
Survival: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (10) - 1 = 9 untrained.

"My apologies, esteemed lady. I meant no disrespect."

"Thanks for the torch light, oh gallant Sir Gailen. The holy water is yours until the leader of the hour returns, at least as far as I am concerned."

Bulroar looks over the assorted items that Gilen and Fidget have revealed, paying particular attention to the scrolls and reading the first lines of one or two. "I have some experience in the magical arena. Not always a sure thing, mind you, but at least there's a chance."

Bulroar will gather up whatever scrolls and wands no one else takes an interest in, but he's not exactly thrilled at the idea of trying to use one under fire.

When the party seems ready to move on, Bulroar follows the path until he stands a few feet back from the edge of the hole and looks around for a rock. He readies himself to drop it (assuming he finds one, otherwise he takes a sling bullet from his pouch), peering at the sack of cloth with trepidation. "Well, there's no use waiting for something to happen. What do you say we find out how deep this hole is?"

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 1 = 14 trying to figure out what might be under the cloth.

Thanks for playing so far, Korin. Take care.

Fidgit, I'm sorry if Bulroar's actions came off as too confrontational. I figure Fidgit's arrogance is probably starting to annoy those who are more used to being outmatched, but let me know if the response goes too far. In the end, we're all still fellow Pathfinders after all.

Bulroar takes cover with the rest. As Janira leaves, he looks off in her direction wistfully. "Someday, that'll be me. Saving my fellows no matter the cost," he mumbles under his breath, a little louder than he'd like to admit.

Seeing that Gailen has already gathered up their leader's pack, Bulroar darts into the cave after her. He looks around, trying to adjust to being underground as quickly as possible.

In response to Fidgit's comment, Bulroar kicks him lightly in the shin. "Of course she knows what she's doing. Now puff your chest down so you can see your feet if we need to run again." Then he realizes the height difference and larger swords of the human make a confrontation rather a bad idea and backs away.

How dark is it in these caves? Can we see without darkvision or do we need a light of some sort?

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

"Hurrah! A Path," Bulroar yells in excitement when they find the path.

"We found a path. Of course we did. We're Pathfinders." Bulroar laughs at his own joke, then looks around to see if anyone else does. "Still not perfect," he surmises. "I should probably stick to fiddling."

Bulroar continues along the path with the rest of the party, bouncing a bit with every step. He considers trying to get a peak of Fidgit's journal, then thinks better of it.

"Thank you, comrade!" Bulroar says with a proud salute to Janira.

"Ooh, an overgrown path!" Bulroar says excitedly, forgetting his previous rapture and wounds in an instant. "Well, I'm undergrown compared to the likes of you, so I should be able to find that."

Bulroar walks by the area Janira points out, meticulously trying every possible orientation and seeing if he can make out a path.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
If we can take 20, Bulroar is willing to take the time to get a 21.

If that doesn't work, Bulroar tries wading into the bushes and seeing if he stumbles upon a path of some sort before the overgrowth stops him.

9/10 hit points

Bulroar continues to play for a minute after the magic has done its work, then slowly turns to face Brother Yorrick. As he does so, he carefully removes the bow from the strings, making sure not to disturb the music with an out of place sound.

He bows wordlessly in the dwarf's direction, a deep bow, then returns the fiddle to his pack.

"Well, you all handled yourselves rather well there," Bulroar says sheepishly. "Sorry I got a bit more tangled up in those snakes than intended."

The halfling surveys his bite marks and tattered clothes. He weaves the red scarf through the worst of the holes. "I guess ripped clothes are an occupational hazard in this business. At least these rips will have a story to them. I have got some snake bites, but I understand if you'd rather I saw to them myself."

Bulroar carefully pulls out his fiddle and performs a short verse. As he does so, the slime on his clothes fades away. Using the prestidigitation cantrip to clean himself up.

4/10 hit points