Not trusting himself around the mystical powers emanating from the amulet, Hibo slowly retreats out of the room and eventually the museum all together. Once outside, he communicates that he suspects a mystical connection or relationship between the museum's amulet and the one taken from the cyborg.
"They're auras are near identical. I don't understand why. Time studying it might reveal more, but I may not even understand what I discover, and we'd have to relocate the amulet to do so, but there is definitely a connection between the two."
Hibo, somewhat transfixed by the pendant, continued to approach it. Suddenly he stopped, blinked, and looked around. Not quite thinking it through, he focused his vision to look for psychic auras, paying particular attention the pendant.
Hibo patiently waited his turn in line at the museum, several other customers between him and Faith. He didn't like walking in unarmed, but he assumed that museum would at least have metal detectors, and he didn't want to draw any attention to himself or others if he could help it. As he waited, he mentally replayed the vision over and over in his head.
Once inside, he began looking around and admiring the art work, looking for any signs of a crescent moon, as well as long hallways or corridors.
"The bombing was a cover, or a distraction. They wanted someone special, someone specific. Immediately following the explosion, men showed up with a talisman of some kind. They used it to test people, somehow. Those that passed were taken. Those that didn't were executed. All of us were taken to another location to be held, and they had a girl there. We assumed she was just another victim, like us, but when we finally met this Klause, he seemed to be focused on her. She was taken."
Hibo limped over to the SUV, sliding in with a grimace. He immediately set about opening the med kit and tending to his own chest wound, trying to wrap a bandage around himself as the vehicle lurched forward.
Treat Injury (Restore Hit Points DC 15):1d20 + 15 ⇒ (16) + 15 = 31 hit points restored:1d4 ⇒ 1
Once they had arrived at the conference room, he gingerly walked around, stopping to grab a bottle of water for himself.
Hibo gingerly exited the vehicle once they had arrived at the scene. He slowly made his way around, one hand still clutching his chest. He kneeled down at each body, to see if any still lived.
Hibo accepted the med kit into the crook of his arm. He fell back a few steps as he holstered his firearm. Dropping to a knee, his free hand reached down to grab the snatch the pendant from the cyborg's neck.
"What? No rocket launcher?" Hibo asked with one hand covering the blistering wound on his chest. He slowly crept forward to crouch down behind one of the smaller booths near the door.
Hibo silently cursed how quickly the situation had erupted into chaos. He drew his Beretta and quickly pulled the trigger twice at the figure by the door before stepping back away from the bar.
I can identify the potion(s) and the school of magic for the AK, but I think that's all without identify.
"Gathering intelligence would be wise before we attempt either. Perhaps we can talk to some of the locals, or check with the property office for schematics? I am not very familiar with the regulations of this country."
With a nod towards Stringer, Hibo sprints forward, coming to a stop behind a depilated wall. He raises his firearm, ready to provide cover fire for Stringer.
As shots ring out, Hibo abandons the focus on his search for auras and falls back towards Stringer and the car. He takes aim at the man coming out of the building and fires.
"I am Hibo, a police officer in my home country. I have been investigating strange occurrences back home and was lead here. I too received a premonition before the explosion, and when I awoke, I witnessed men with a crystal of some sorts examining people, killing some and taking others."
"Recently, I have been seeing...strange things, that I cannot explain. Nightmares come to life, if you will. I have a...sense, about such things."
Hibo sat in the passenger seat next to Faith, his hand never far from the handgun in his jacket. He remained seated as Faith exited the vehicle, keeping his eyes off of the thug Faith was talking to. He kept his attention on the sunken roof ahead and tried not to let on that he understood the conversation going on.
Knowledge (streetwise):1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27
Once away from the gang, Hibo shares what he has heard about the O Vampiros as well.
"Ugh. This day just keeps getting better and better' Hibo muttered to himself. He almost suggested trading the pistols to whatever gang Faith knew, but the thought of arming them more did not sit well with him. He shook his head.
"Has anyone heard of this "Joao Carlo's"?" he asked.
"I was not referring to the authorities. I meant the riffraff. The scavengers and scroungers who come to steal from the dead. Sooner or later, they always come."
Hibo grabs the case from the trunk and joins the interrogation. "If I may interject a third question...what were you planning to do with the contents of this case?" Hibo asks as he opens it to let the others see the four vials of milky liquid.
Sticking to cover, Hibo dashed forward and crouched behind the pallet jack. He raised his firearm, but with no clear shot, he held his breath and waited.
Ready action to fire if the foe moves away from Faith.
Not liking the range between himself and the opposition, Hibo held his position. He gripped his pistol tighter as he waited, and began to chant under his breath. His eyes began to shift in color as his vision shifted to see psionic auras.
Using detect psionics to see if anyone of the new comers are psionically active.
Following the others' lead, Hibo grabs his pistol off the table and takes up a position on the flank opposite Salvo, near the others. He quickly makes sure a round is chambered and silently prays he doesn't have to use it.
Hibo quietly nodded his thanks before Salvo turned his attention back to the door. His free hand moved to the restraint still keeping his other arm immobilized and worked it loose. He then moved towards those on his legs. As soon as he was free, he picked up the nearest object he felt comfortable throwing and moved to take position behind his gurney.
"Ugh, my head" Hibo muttered before looking around.
"Crystal? I remember seeing something like that. I don't know if it was psionic in nature, but I believe I could determine it's inherit nature if I could study it further."
Hibo struggled against his restraints briefly before looking around again. "I am Hibo, and I could use a little help here."
Hibo was trying his best to remain patient. He was hungry, but he couldn't ignore the charged atmosphere of unity brought out by the televised match. Before he realized it, he was shouting and clapping as the youth scored. It was quite the move! He had to admire his abilities. Surely this was a sign of good things to come.
DC 15 Reflex save:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
Hibo hit the ground in an instant, his training and instincts taking over before he had to time think. The next thing he knew, an alarm clock was waking him up. His hand tried to move to wipe away the morning sleep still covering his eyes, but he found it oddly pinned beneath him. He tried to roll over but the effort seemed more than he was capable of at the moment. He quietly wondered how much he had to drink after the game. Instead he was able to force his eyes open with some effort and that's when everything came flooding back. The game, the explosion, and realizing that the continued ringing was in his head did little to comfort him. This was made worse as clothed officers were putting two rounds into those who did not appease their crystal, and were coming his way.
DC 15 Fortitude save:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
In his disoriented state, all Hibo could think of was "Pele? Really? This might actually be worth it." That was until the man mentioned a "Klaus". "Who the hell is Klaus?" echoed in his mind until the man pumped darkness returned.
DC 15 Will save:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
When his eyes opened again, he groaned. The sound of music did not help to alleviate the throbbing in his head. Nor did the flashing light overhead. "Concussion?" he wondered. He closed his eyes as he tried to sit up, but the the restraints kept him in place. He groaned again and closed his eyes as he squeezed his arm to his body, trying to feel his firearm strapped in its holster.
Hibo quietly stood in line, patiently waiting his turn for one of the vendors. He had been watching the crowd more than the game, his dark sunglasses hiding his eyes as they scanned the area for psionic activity. He hadn't seen much, but the longer the game went on, the more people came and went. He had no real leads, but the amount of people around in one place was his best chance at finding something. At this point, he'd settle for anything. His funds were dwindling, and while he knew he shouldn't, the aromas sifting through the air had become too much to ignore any longer. He could have grabbed a protein bar or some jerky from his pack, but with the game on and the cheers from those gathered, he might as well indulge he thought. Never know where the next meal will be after all.
He squeezed his arm into body once again, confirming the Beretta was still secure in the concealed holster under his arm.
Greetings. Helga Slagstone, ley-line guardian witch reporting for consideration.
Thank you for being a GM. We don't have enough of them.
Brief background:
Helga has never known her father. Her mother had an affair with another dwarf that she met while adventuring. She married her husband for the good of her clan but never truly loved him, but it was her duty. Once the affair was discovered and her clan marred, she fled the mountains for the Orc Holds. She was intent on suicide by orc to end her shame.
It wasn't until she had arrived in the Holds that she realized she was with child. She quickly made her way to the nearest settlement she could find and has been working as an alchemist and raising her daughter ever since.
Helga was born and raised in Trunau. Her mother died a few years ago in an orc raid and Helga has begrudgingly taken over her small alchemist shop. She would rather be studying and learning, reading through books or talking to others more knowledgeable than she.
Occasionally Helga has felt like exploring the world like her mother, but the feeling is usually fleeting once she sees another dwarf. Most of the dwarves in Trunau don't give her too hard of a time, but enough do that she fears what others that do not know her would think or even do. She stays in Trunau because it is her home, the only one she has ever known. She has a few friends, mostly non-dwarves, and is capable of supporting herself.
She is not a typical dwarf. She carries her mother's warhammer but that's where the stereotype ends. She practices arcane magic, dislikes armor of any sorts, is not found of the forge or working metal, but does have an affinity for the rock and stone around her. She also has an affinity for light and darkness, fire and water, heat and cold, and air and wind as well.
Rory the halfling bard, mythic trickster, at your service.
Excellent. You say he's been in Kenabres for a few months now, where was he before then?
Other than that, everything is checking out :)
Added to Background:
His family originally settled in Brevoy, but most of them moved to Kenabres during the 2nd Mendevian crusade. His great grandfather wanted the family out of harm’s way but close enough to be supportive. The Linorin estate has existed in Brevoy since 4638 and has flourished as merchants thanks to a partnership with House Lebeda.
Rory the halfling bard, mythic trickster, at your service.
Dice:
roll 1:4d6 ⇒ (5, 2, 3, 2) = 12=10
roll 2:4d6 ⇒ (1, 6, 2, 1) = 10=9
roll 3:4d6 ⇒ (4, 3, 4, 4) = 15=12
roll 4:4d6 ⇒ (5, 6, 5, 3) = 19=16
roll 5:4d6 ⇒ (3, 5, 5, 6) = 19=16
roll 6:4d6 ⇒ (3, 1, 3, 5) = 12=11
Crunch:
Rory Linorin
Male halfling bard 1
NG Small humanoid (human)
Init +4; Senses Perception +4
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Defense
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AC 19, touch 15, flat-footed 14
(+4 Dex, +3 Armor, +1 Size, +1 Shield)
Hp 8 (1d8+0)
Fort +1, Ref +7, Will +3
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee whip -1 (1d2-2/x2)
Trip or Disarm Attempt w/ whip +5
Ranged
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Statistics
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Str 7, Dex 18, Con 11, Int 12, Wis 10 Cha 18
Base Atk +0; CMB +3; CMD 11
Feats Simple Weapon Proficiency, Light Armor Proficiency, Shield Proficiency, Weapon Finesse
Skills Acrobatics 1 [+7], Bluff 1 [+8], Diplomacy 1 [+8], Escape Artist 1 [+7], Handle Animal 1 [+8], Perception 1 [+4], Perform (sing)** 1 [+8], Sleight of Hand** 1 [+7], Spellcraft 1 [+5], Use Magic Device 1 [+8]
Traits Helpful (Halfling) [Race], Prehensile Whip [Equipment], Chance Encounter [WotR Campaign]
Drawback Hedonistic
Languages Common, Halfling, Undercommon
Mythic Path Trickster
Combat Gear Other Gear small whip x2, small short sword, small studded leather armor, small leather madu, backpack, spell component pouch, waterskin, hip flask w/ linnorm mead, entertainer’s outfit, mess kit, scrivener’s kit; 2 pp, 3 gp, 7 sp, 5 cp
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Special Abilities
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Bardic Knowledge Adds half bard class levels (minimum 1) to all Knowledge checks and can make them untrained.
Bardic Performances Countersong (Su), Distraction (Su), Fascinate (Su), Inspire Courage (Su); 8 rounds/day, standard action to start, free action to maintain.
Fearless +2 racial bonus on all saving throws vs. fear.
Fleet of Foot base speed of 30 ft.
Halfling Luck +1 racial bonus on all saving throws.
Keen Senses +2 racial bonus to Perception.
Weapon Familiarity Halflings are proficient with slings and treat any weapon with the word “halfling” in its name as a martial weapon. Bards are proficient with the longsword, rapier, sap, shortsword, shortbow, and whip.
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Magic
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Bard Spell’s Known (CL: 1st; Concentration +5)
1st 2/day [i]cure light wounds, grease Cantrips detect magic, light, mage hand, spark
Fluff:
Rory stands just over 3’2” and tops the scales at a staggering 35 pounds. His blond hair sprouts just a few inches in numerous directions and his side burns run down the sides of his cheeks. His thin arms and small belly belie his quickness. His smile and a coy wink is enough to make the ladies blush. Garbed in bright, flashy clothing, Rory likes to be noticed. After all, it’s easier to be an entertainer if all eyes are on you. Rory is confident in his own abilities. He knows he’s not the hero or fighter type, but somebody’s got to sing the songs and write the ballads about them, and Rory’s better than most are weaving a sad song or rousing hymn.
Rory’s been in Kenabres for a few months now. He’s come to help bolster morale, document the war, and hopefully write epic stanzas about the heroes that triumphant in the face of adversity. He’s not actually planning on doing the fighting himself, but he would not hesitate to sign on with an adventuring party or high-ranking military official for some first hand views and knowledge. While not a fighter, Rory has learned to protect himself. He favors the whip and often carries more than one, just in case he loses one. He started using a whip to drive animal-pulled carts, and liked the reach it gave him. He’s able to perform a few fancy moves with it even if it isn’t really a dangerous weapon in his hands. He’s rather go for the feet than go for someone’s face. He’s not out to end lives, that would mean less people to listen to his stories.
Rory’s family fought in the last crusades, and several generations have volunteered throughout history and given their lives in service to fighting the hordes. Rory never wanted to be a fighter, but he always enjoyed the stories his family told, and now he wants to be in a position to tell those stories himself. What he hasn’t realized is that he is drawn to the world wound, just like the Linorin halflings before him. He may come to realize his destiny before the war is over, and learn that heroes don’t just wield armor and swords. There are numerous ways to fight battles. Fate has deemed that Rory has a part to play in this grand theater, even if he never fully realizes it for himself.
He’s not a rebel and while he tends to follow the laws most of the time, he puts people before establishments and has learned that every case is different. He doesn’t consider himself a liar, but every good story needs embellishment. He can talk his way into and out of most situations, and has learned the benefit of distraction, misdirection, and showmanship.
Rory’s a little bit lazy, and it’s his biggest regret and hindrance. He never had the drive to workout or follow-through on things, and is shows in his lack of muscle and physical development. To make up for this shortcoming, Rory has always tried to be helpful to feel like he contributed. Whether it’s driving the carts to town, keeping the kids out of trouble, or fixing the weapons of those that man the defenses, he’s always tried to pull his weight.
