Davor the Dworc's page

Sorry for the delay, i thought I posted the info but I guess it ate the post.

James Bailey
#90416-9
Grand Lodge
Dayjob alchemy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

Thanks for running.

Email is fine. jbailey335@gmail.com

I'll be in Japan until the 16th. Cartmanbeck (scarlet fox) will be posting for me in my absence.

"The more the merrier, way I see it!"

"Aye, friend. It comes with a drink too!"

Davor digs out another sausage, as well as a small black flask. The flask is filled with very strong whiskey

Davor holds out the flask first, then the sausage.

Davor seems overwhelmed by the whole situation. Seeing no immediate threat, he slumps against the wall. After a short while he fishes out a sausage and starts nibbling on it, washing it down with swigs from miscellaneous containers all over his person.

Davor draws his hammer and moves up, but waits to see what happens next before acting.

Davor looks them over, taking 10 on perception (14).

"I've not seen them around, but I'm sure they wont mind if we put some of their tools to use."

"Not a minute too soon Lad, these ghosts can be vicious if they get ahold of ya."

"Is everyone alright?"

"Ow. What the...? How do we get rid of this blasted thing? Other than the tube thing from the kit."

Davor jumps up, half surprised. He wipes some mead from his lips and tries to quickly put away the flask.

"Right! To the, uh, Triple courtyard thingy!"

Davor gruffly whispers to the group.

"She may not like it at first, but it might do her good to get her out of here."

Davor bites his tongue and follows the Mandragora closely. He is obviously unimpressed at his gardening skills, but does not want to offend their guide.

Davor will pay as well, then stay close to the mandragora.

Sorry for the delay, had a busy day yesterday.

kn nature: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13

"Ergh. I'm not to sure about this. Why don't you take a bunch from me and leave the rest out of it. I'll even toss in some of my special occasion life fluid. They call it "uisge beatha" or the water of life."

Davor's offering of 'uisge beatha' is a flask of whiskey. That is the traditional Irish name for it.

Davor will move to the melee, drawing his weapon while moving and fly into a rage as a free action. He will then proceed to cease the man's taunts with an earthbreaker to the face.

attack: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
damage: 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (2, 4) + 9 = 15

After smashing the face of that heckler, he glares at the rest.

"I suggest ye be moving along!"

"Works for me, it's too early for a brawl in the docks anyway."

"I'll look out for the girl, and keep an eye on our 'subtle' friend at the same time. She will come to no harm m'lady."

"Go in, look around, do the observe...write....repo...whatever thing, and come out alive. I think I got it. Oh, and make sure a litle girl that lived in there for 10 years doesn't die in the process. Works for me."

"Dot?... No... SHOT!"

Here is Davor. Half-Orc Drunken Barbarian. (Jooker submission)
Profile pic will make more sense when the backstory is fully written. For now, use this pic for reference.