Corrin Justicebringer's page

Sorry for the delays - Corrin sticks to what he's good at.
Kn Religion: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21
Kn Religion: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19
Kn Religion: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13

Corrin wanders back to the main hall, pulling out a piece of paper and angrily scribbling.

Incunabulum of the Ages is in a disorganized mess of a basement. Need someone more slippery to squeeze past the piles of junk in the way.

He waits a few minutes, then heads to find The Luminous Libram down aisle 4A-Y.

Corrin begins cursing in a multitude of languages as he attempts to squeeze through the stacks.

Escape Artist?: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17

Corrin grumbles and jots down notes on the books. He seems offended at 'tall stacks'.

"I'm going to the basement, follow if you want." he says, before heading out.

Corrin scoffs, drawing out his buckler showing the 5 pointed iron star of the Godclaw. He then recites in Celestial a line from Iomedae's faith.

Kn: Religion: 1d20 + 8 - 2 ⇒ (14) + 8 - 2 = 20

"We come truthfully. Pati me mori quam foedari."

Biting the bullet, grabbing a +1 Mithril Buckler cause Wizards need AC

Corrin gasps slightly: even he can appreciate the beauty for a few moments. Then he realizes how tall the grass is and gives a frustrated sigh.

Corrin shakes his head at the mention of the weapon, but finds himself come around as the gnome finishes.

"I agree, redeem those that you can. Return those that have escaped. You can't become a useful member of society if you're dead!" Corrin nods to himself, finding some form of merit in the gnome... for now.

Corrin's eyeroll is audible as he turns to Glastor.

"Please tell me you've hit someone with that silly knife at least?"

I'm a wizard with a sword. That's all I got.

Oh and 20 AC (probably more cause I need to buy a shield before we leave...).

Corrin follows the others into the room, looking over the two extraplanar creatures waiting for them. He raises an eyebrow at the Azata.

"Et requiem tibi dabit nobis? Non habent facultatem ad praestare magica? Ad hanc bibliothecam venis?"

He turns to the rest of his group.
"Do we need any supplies to perform the ritual? Any of you kitted out?" he holds up his spell component pouch, waving it at Lya "You holy types like gems usually, don't you? Diamonds and rubies? Sapphires?"

Corrin scoffs, then begins enunciating slowly - his rough voice coming out in sing-song tones.

"Ego pol illum non nosti adoremus saltem duos deos bonum legitimam carnis copulam, est etiam in plures linguas ego et plures alii laminae peregrinatione bene versati."

Got Corrin updated... mmmm Wizard AC....

"HA!" Corrin laughs, shaking his head. "Angels and Archons? That'll be easy. I'll keep everyone on the straight and narrow!"

"So what's the big deal with this library? We've got plenty of those. Should we be bringing some of these books back with us, if we don't have them already?"

Stomping into the room, sweating in his armor, Corrin forgets that inside voices are a thing, his raspy voice ringing out.

"Moonbeasts are nothing to worry about. Took one out easy enough." Stopping with his hands on his hips, he surveys the room. "You all look... adequate, if another one of them shows up."

Looking over the desk to Ambrus, Corrin sighs, then looks to Zadrian.
"Hey! Nice armor!" he shouts, tapping a gauntlet against his own breastplate.

A stout halfling gasps in the practice yard of the Grand Lodge, running laps in shiny, new mithril. Occasionally he lets out a grunt and flings his bastard sword through the air, chuckling as it ricochets off of a practice dummy and flies back into his hand.

As he comes around for another lap, he lowers the visor on his iron helm and takes his sword in both hands, shouting loud in Infernal as he charges as a larger dummy, leaping into the air to strike it.

"TAKE THAT STUPID MOONBEAST! AHHHHHHHHH!"

"Let's do this, losers!" the Halfling shouts, pounding on his new metal armor.

"Maybe don't shove your hand into the shambling pile of s&!$. Then again, who am I to judge your hobbies?" Corrin yells, holding one hand out and his sword up, energy flowing from his sword to his hand as blue energy gathers and flies forward.

Arcane Bond Snowball
Snowball, Touch: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
Snowball: 4d6 ⇒ (2, 1, 1, 3) = 7
DC 15 Fort or Staggered (if not immune?)

Corrin sinks his blade down into it just to be sure.

"Friggin A this town sucks. Digit! Stay at that door. Kidd, start shaking down these cultists. Adoril, let's clear the rest of this house."

Corrin holds his blade out and lights it up with a spell, moving for the nearest door.

Corrin grips his sword in both hands, sets it glowing, and begins running.

"STOP THAT! CHAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!"

Charge, AS, MW BS: 1d20 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 6 + 2 = 11
Re-re-re-reroll.
Charge, AS, MW BS: 1d20 + 6 + 2 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 6 + 2 + 5 = 26

Damage: 1d8 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 3 + 1 = 11
Images, 1 for home!: 1d4 ⇒ 3

Corrin squints at the spider-woman.
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (16) + 11 = 27

"Stupid witch is trying to put us to sleep! Hit her with those missiles, Didgeridoo!"

Corrin, in the meantime, reaches into his bag for a Thunderstone, steps back, and chucks it at the wall behind her.

Ranged Attack DC 5: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Corrin marches forward, his sword glowing as he moves.

"Friggin mirror images. How about this?!"

As he holds up his sword, it shines, then flickers as two more appear floating next to his raised sword.

"SUCK THESE IMAGES!" he shouts as the two magical blades fly toward the woman.

Storm of Blades 1: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Storm of Blades 2: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 4
Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 6

Spell: Storm of Blades, 1 blade per 2 CL. Hoping for the 'within 5' to pop images.

Corrin trudges in and judges his companions based on the enemies they are next to. He decides to step to the left, since Kidd couldn't hit the broken up barn outside.

"Stupid cultists ARCANE STRIKE!" he shouts.

MW BS AS: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
Damage, AS: 1d8 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 4 + 1 = 11

Corrin sighs loudly and dashes forward, heading for a break in the wall with all of his halfling might.

He dives and rolls into the barn, his bastard sword out.

"You idiot! Your armor is down here, where are you?!" Corrin begins shouting, swinging his sword to and fro in the light.

Squeezing as I move, counting some difficult terrain, full 60ft movement.

Corrin, surprised that he is being talked to, nods in agreement.

"Sure, good festival. We'll gather the taxes tomorrow and be on our way. I appreciate the hospitality."

Corrin considers using his Arcane Bond to add more excitement to the fire, especially with the silly Ifrit falling in. He thinks better of it though and instead seeks out any sort of local wine.

Corrin will express his distaste of the mayor and his brother, as well as his eagerness to fight the mayors brother, mano-a-mano.

He also expresses his lack of surprise that Elias was useless. Once he returns to Magnimar, he will be sure to chase down the thief.

Festivities seem silly to him and he would much rather watch and drink than show of his amazing halfling jumping abilities.

"Huh. Sure. Smart guy. Go along then kid, I suppose you're from town? How far is it? Can you get there safely?"

Giving Kidd an odd look, Corrin moves the 'Applesauce' to the door of the carriage, holding it out to the child.

"Please take it, since my colleagues cannot seem to stand its presence." he says, glaring at Dejat. "What is it anyway? What kind of pet is that?"

"Calm down flamer, this thing is odd." Corrin will attempt to grab the bug.

Grab: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19

Keith A
124235-21
Regular
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"If we need horses for the last leg anyway... whatever. Boats. Horses. This town sounds like trouble. Tax evaders. Probably murdered Elias. Probably making drugs, or consorting with proteans, or something stupid like that."

Grumbling, Corrin goes to the market and purchases himself a new Headband, learning 5 more languages overnight. He then continues wandering the market, finding things to complain about to anyone who will listen in an angry little montage.

"Or maybe it's a stupid VEGETABLE FESTIVAL and the damn gourds just ATE Elias.""

"Stupid small towns and stupid deaths. People die in regular ways in cities. Not by floating pumpkins but by thugs and thieves that can be properly locked up."

"They're probably so simple that they help slaves escape too, like those stupid small towns do. Ugh. What if the tax money is housing and clothing them?!"

"What about 'I wish he would shut up!' ? Does 'I wish he would shut up!' work as a wish?"

"Yeah, yeah, fine. I guess I'm travelling into the barbarian lands again. Just want a single week in polite, orderly society but noooooooooo I gotta go babysit somewhere else."

Corrin begins running around the corner again, catching sight of the skeleton. As he sees he can't get there, he instead swings his sword into the ground!

Thunderstomp, Flaming Skeleton: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15 vs CMD to trip.

Corrin squints at the gnome.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 25

He waggles a finger disapprovingly and goes back to staring at the stone pile.

Corrin will step to the front and Detect Magic, then pull out the moss and start rubbing it on his skin.

False Life: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

"This looks like a great place for those running from the law to hide..."

As he stares with Detect up, Corrin also pulls out a wand Mage Armor and casts a spell Mirror Image.

Mirror Image: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

AC 16, 2 Images, 6 Temp HP, Corrin ready to rage.

Player Name: Keith A
Character Name: Corrin
PFS Number: 124235-21
Slow Track: No
Day Job: No

"Seriously. These pumpkins are stupid."

Corrin throws his sword into the air again, it glows as it flies.

Hand of the Apprentice: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Reroll...
Hand of the Apprentice!: 1d20 + 4 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 4 + 5 = 20
Damage, Arcane Strike: 1d8 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 2 + 1 = 4

Corrin steps out of the house, looking up at the gourd and throwing his sword at it.

"STUPID PUMPKIN!"

Hand of the Apprentice: 1d20 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (4) + 4 - 2 = 6

His sword flies past the gourd before stopping in midair and bolting back to Corrin's hand.

"STUPID TOWN!"

Corrin raises an eyebrow.

"I'm all for grisly, but we aren't cut out for that stuff. Well, they aren't cut out for that stuff." Corrin motions to his party.

"Why are we being sent to look at this? Aren't you guys all about revolution and bloody revolt? Isn't this Tuesday?"

Corrin picks up a pumpkin, drops it on a table, pulls out a dagger and embeds it deep within.

"Heathens.." he mutters under his breath. He pulls the dagger and stabs again. "God of pretty and flowers and niceness.."

He pulls and stabs, pulls and stabs, pulls and stabs.

"Ridiculous."

Craft Pumpkin: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

He pulls his dagger, looks at the pumpkin, then stalks off as the pieces of the inverted star fall loose from it.

"Oh boy, we're being sent on an errand to go and apologize at the feet of some back alley law breaking information broker!? This seems wise. Are we taking her some chocolates or maybe a bouquet as well?! What's to say she doesn't just shank us on sight?"

An angry halfling bursts into the room, his bent helm badly matching his rough, worn robes. The bastard sword on his back gleams, freshly polished, as do the buckles and bindings on his spellbook.

"Stupid earth plane. Stupid soldiers," he mumbles, then looks around the room.

"You!" he points at Gaz. "I know you're useful!"

He squints at the other short one in the room.

"You're untested, gnome. Be on your best behavior. None of your races silliness."

His eyes move above his own head level for the first time, looking at the other two.

"Ulfen man. I know you've got a good arm. Good," he looks pointedly at the woman (Lya) in the room. "And who are you?!"

After the response...

"Venture Captain. Corrin Justicebringer. Here to put this country back in order. Riots, revolutions, sedition. I don't know how you handle all of it."

Corrin comes down on the mysterious beetle with his sword.

Bastard Sword: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

Corrin starts detecting magic, not having a good way to hit an enemy he can't see.

Corrin sucks at climbing, so he runs away from the manhole and stands out of explosion range.

Corrin's eyes light up at the vial Dumbldalf holds.

"DRUGS!" he shouts as he rushes toward the wizard. "We've come to the right place!"

Corrin glances as the junkies, squinting, attempting to detect evil (which he can't do).

"Which of you made this?! Out with it and we'll have mercy!"

Corrin marches forward to the first druggie, waiting for the lights to follow him. He stares down at the man.

"Where's your dealer?! Where's the alchemist?!"
Intimidate, Size penalty: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15

Corrin hurries down the ladder.

"All should see shining justice! Keep me lit, Dummydalf!"

Corrin rolls his eyes.

"Let's go find and take down this alchemist."