Gardam's page

Thanks for an awesome game, GM Berggen! This was a great table!

Gardam, in his excitement over winning, wraps Laboni up in a gigantic hug, but hurriedly puts her down when he realizes what he's done.

"Yes, let us get our further orders," the kish says.

Gardam, too, drops the gun remote and stands on the safety barrier. "LEFT! LEEEEEFT!" he yells, trying to aid Morvruul in dodging shots from the other competitors.

Piloting: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

Gardam growls at Velocity's skills at dodging and resumes firing at her.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13

Gardam crows triumphantly. "A foe is defeated!" he howls, turning energy weapon fire onto Velocity.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18

Gardam will take one of the energy weapons. I'll start out firing at... Not Ratrod, since Morvruul saw the capacitors. 1d4 ⇒ 1 Lemgem it is!

Gardam is leaned in way to close to his blaster's viewscreen, cursing profusely in Vulgar Kishaleen as he sprays blaster shots all over the course.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24

Sorry, work's been kicking my ass. Let's put an additional energy weapon, one more boost to speed (to get us to 80, right?), and a boost to EAC.

"If riding one of these things is at all similar to strangling out an arochor while it tries to shake you, then this should be an easy feat for me to accomplish," Gardam says confidently.

Funfreemy chimed in in discussion that me and Morvruul have +7s each, so one of us? I think I'm probably a strong gunner at +4, too.

Will everyone have something to do during the race? Should we just pack the ship full of guns with the three successes I got?

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18

It takes a little bit, but Gardam is eventually able to get a way better idea of what "useful" parts are, and begins to bring over actual usable materials.

I'm not clear on what we've already improved, but I'd get our speed up to something absurd and then start stacking our ACs.

Gardam, having no clue about what is happening in the junkyard, starts to look for the biggest, shiniest pieces of scrap around.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

"Is this good?" he yells from a few hundred yards away, holding up what looks like a piece of a spaceship wing. It is not, in fact, good.

Gardam pauses thoughtfully at Radazam's chastisement. "Protecting children against their own foolishness is wise. I submit to you as the superior mind and warleader - and will endeavor to teach this child the same." Gardam kneels before Radazam briefly, before standing back up. "Now - to defend the Society from it's own members' foolishness!"

Gardam, too, is confused as to the motivation. "So you want us to not reprimand or punish the hot-head who has hastily overcommitted the warriors of the Society to a frivolous game, but instead to... aid her in backing up her foolish claim?" Gardam shakes his head. "On Istamak, such foolishness was a way to be exiled from a warband and become a lump in an arochor. This station truly is a silly place."

"I have heard these vesk are mighty warriors. Hopefully he will have bigger game for us to hunt. The feather duster was big but not dangerous enough for my tastes," Gardam says reflectively.

Just noticed that I'd never posted/dotted in here - so let me say that Morvruul has been great to play along with.

Posting might be spotty for a few days - my car broke down while running work errands for a trade show we need to be packed for tomorrow.

Things are busy.

Please bot Gardam hitting things as hard as he can as much as he can until I return - if necessary. Thanks!

Gardam has now flattened himself to the ground behind the enclosure and has stuck a finger through the nest into the enclosure. He wiggles the finger around attempting to recreate a worm or lure.

Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29

I don't believe these rolls are relevant at this point, but I have nothing else and think Gardam's stubborness is funny.

Gardam climbs down from the ceiling. "I will attempt to speak blargh to it," the kish says very seriously. He crouches behind the nest and tries to impersonate the thing's call as best he can.

Survival to tame: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15

Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24

From his vantage point half-hung on the hole in the ceiling, Gardam yells out. "Morvruul! To your left! Wait, no, my left! Under the bucket! What, can't you see it's tracks? They're right there!"

Gardam climbs into one of the holes.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13

Gardam stands by the door, doshko at the ready, prepared to stop "Chomper" from eating anyone within the room.

Gardam's stomach gurgles as the ingredients are listed. He fails to look embarrassed, if anyone else takes note. He, too, watches the children suspiciously.

Gardam drops into a wary crouch and moves towards the doorway.

The tears seem to discomfort Gardam. "Do shapeshifters typically burst into tears that easily?" he mutters to Morvruul.

"Buckets will not save you, foul shapeshifters! Face your reckoning!," bellows the kish.

Gardam draws his doshko. "Don't worry - I am prepared for these 'children,'" Gardam says darkly.

"I am prepared to meet this Star Master," Gardam says. It seems like he may not pay particularly close attention during briefings.

Gardam nods decisively. "Weaklings. True warriors would not have been dissuaded by the display - station life has made them soft. You took great advantage of their mental fragility, Morvruul."

"Milady, your death is upon you!" says Gardam loudly as he approaches Ceren. When he gets closer he drops his volume. [smaller]"Sorry, just always wanted to say that. What I mean to say, less deceivingly, is that we have the accounts of your faked death."

Disguise Aid: 1d20 ⇒ 10

Gardam helpfully brings his doshko down on the extra arm that Morvruul had added to the body. "There. It is human-shaped now." The kish nods decisively.

Gardam keeps proposing plans that involve Ceren living off of the grid entirely. Each of these plans neglect the fact that Ceren currently lives on a space station and is well past the age of subsistence hunting.

Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

Sorry guys, no relevant skills here - let me know who I can assist XD

Gardam slaps Jubair on the back. "Don't worry, youngling - I remember when I found out that my grandmother was a stronger than I was. Granted, I was but a child..." He gives Jubair an appraising look. "...and it looks like your skiff has sailed. Oh well." He claps Jubair on the back again. "Villages need farmers too."

"Now, Memaw Ceren - why would we fake the deaths of the Bluerise's warriors? Wouldn't simply killing them be more efficient and less confusing?"

...possible give him some raw meat.[/b]

Gardam spits at Nikon's suggestion. "No! Cook the meat - Gardam has no need of gutworm from some culinary arrogance."

At Memaw's invitation and Nikon's acceptance, Gardam looks at Jubair. "Come, soft farmboy - your Memaw has extended us hospitality, and it would be rude of me to have to chase you down if you flee."

"Yes, Hacker. We have heard of your exploits. Now give us the information you have taken from the Bluerise, or we will happily take it from you, possibly harming you in the process if you resist."

Gardam looks back at the other Starfinders. "This diplomassy you all speak so highly of..." He shrugs.

Gardam stands with his hands on his knees, clearly sore from standing. "If you get a picture of the vesk, I will assist you in finding the lizard and avenging you... tomorrow. Not today, I have... Um. A prior engagement."

Gardam also purchases an album, more out of a tired confusion over what is going on when they finally get to the front of the line.

Gardam reslings his bow, nodding in admiration. "Well fought. Good natural reflexes. It appears that the Starfinder Clan is strong in it's selection of warriors."

Gardam breaks into a fast walk, drawing his bow and firing an arrow as he goes.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 3

I was going to check and see if it was in the first or second range increment... but I suspect that doesn't matter.

Gardam continues to keep pace with Peanut Butter, rushing himself a little to make sure that he stays in front of the machine. "I'll let no machine take the front line while I stand," he mutters at the drone as he passes it.

Gardam quietly moves up the stairs, passing the drone.

"Agreed," Gardam says, nodding to Nikon. "To hunt and kill this monster will make the station and it's weak, helpless inhabitants less likely to be in danger. We may... purchase this item for Zigvigix's gift for his intended." The kish looks back at Zigvigix. "Would you not rather have us bring the carcass of the beast we kill, as a sign of the strength of the warband you lead? On Istamak, I was known as something of a 'playboy,' as you station-dwellers say - many an eohi-heart dinner was followed by an eohi-liver breakfast courtesy of my bow... if you know what I mean." The kish winks with two of his eyes.

Gardam tries the rice candy, but nearly immediately unceremoniously spits it out onto the ground. "Too sweet," he grunts by way of explanation.

"This first errand seems fitting for warriors, and I gratefully accept. The second mission... What is this 'Stawbree Macking Cake'? I am unfamiliar. Will it save us your station 'credits' if we were to simply take it from those who hoard it?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 ⇒ 14

Gardam considers the small talk he overheard while surveilling some other Starfinder recruits, but ultimately considers the information unimportant. "I would like to meet the warrior known as Zigvigix," Gardam says. "These 'Exo-Guardians' seem to be the warrior caste of your tribe and I would know who is strong enough to lead them."

In response to his query, she informs him, "It is called Guidance. From what I understand it is an artificially intelligent matrix composed of the personalities and knowledge of former Starfinders. I am unsure whether this visage is of a specific 'ancestor,' as you put it, or some form of constructed guise to represent the amalgamated whole."

Gardam blinks his three eyes for a moment, allowing the synthetic beings words to wash over him. There is no 'a-ha!' moment of understanding. "...So... Not an ancestor's spirit," he says flatly, doing his level best to parse the technospeak into something he understands.

And definitely failing.

A tall, lean humanoid stalks into the room. All three eyes are narrowed in seeming annoyance, and he wears a flame doshko and a bow across his back and a quiver of arrows at his hip. When Guidance speaks, the creature gives a low bow to the AI before following it's instructions.

After receiving the subdermal implant, Gardam takes position next to the android. He leans over and mutters "I am unfamiliar with the ways of the Starfinder tribe - which ancestor is giving us these instructions?"

Alright, dotted!

That's alright, that's pretty fixable.

If you go to My Account in the top right, then select Organized Play from the drop-down and sign in, you'll get taken to your Organized Play tab, where you can edit the character/forum alias in question. I'm about to do that with Gardam myself, need to get him an avatar.

Interest! Thinking this level 1 or 2 Kish soldier, just need to add his stats to Paizo to make him PbP official.