Ib The Bruiser's page

It could be magic rust father, you never know what a Sahaugin fart can do.
Ib too will go towards the southern exit, pretending to not be impressed this Nalia’s bladework. And think to himself how his sea legs have gotten the better of him of late.
stealth: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (2) + 11 = 13
perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

Move and Attack
attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 81d6 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6

Ib will help look around.
perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Ib's AOO on the Green Rat
Attack: 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 4 + 2 = 251d6 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
Attacking either Green or Cyan if green is dead
Attack: 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 4 + 2 = 141d6 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

Ib will swing his pick at the last rat.
attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 71d6 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10

Classic Ib
Ib will study and then attack the red rat.
attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 81d6 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11
Ben if I don’t hit my next attack I quit...

Ib will jump down into action attack a rat.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 111d6 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

Ib will take a shot at a rat he sees.
Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 131d6 ⇒ 5

Ib looks saddened as he hands the pick to Blue. Yet he lets out a grin as he takes the warhammer and nods his head to Nalia in regards to the shield.

He then begins to look further down the dungeon.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

And apparently needs glasses lol!

It keeps on going you better come across. HERE! Old man first.

Ib says as he tosses an end of the rope around the corner to aid his allies.

Ib runs around the corner pulling up the britches on his new armor.

Sorry for dragging behind... I can make it no question. I'm interested in getting that war-hammer though!

In the blink of an eye Ib is trying to safely hoist himself down in avoidance of the spikes.

Take a ten on acrobatics for 17

Sure looks magic to me. Any secret treasure in here?

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

I guess Ib lost his eyes lol

Ib will move behind the friendly skeleton and study the other as a move action.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 221d6 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

You're right tiny man!
Ib will pick up the Pick for the surprise action.

Stealth: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (15) + 11 = 26

I don't like the looks of this.

Ib looks at the weapon, something he has not held since abandoning the war, "it just feels right." He think to himself. And manages a nod in the direction of Poppo.

I'm strong I can carry the rest of this lot, if we plan on sticking together that is. Ib says, with veiled hope in his voice.

Ib stares at his allies blankly just as confused as they are.

Well, as weird as that was at least we got what we wanted. Only one way now forward.

As Ib starts up toward the forest, he thinks to himself. I guess freedom isn't the sun on your face after all...

Ib rushes in to try to finish the fight!

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 181d3 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Ib goes to do what he does best he moves up and takes a swing at the blue sailor.
Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 91d3 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

stealth: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (18) + 11 = 29

Inititive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

Ib with no real talents besides brawling, sneaking, and skuldugging found the civil war refreshing... at first. Sneaking into enemy camps and cutting throats, raiding supply caravans, all the while fighting in pubs quickly earned him the nickname Bruiser. More than that it gave him purpose, he was someone, the Bruiser. Ib was loyal to a fault and good at follow orders no matter how heinous. Eventually after a while these terrible orders took a toll on young 16 year old Ib. He snapped. He left his camp spent all of his money on mead and somehow in his drunken, regret and grief-stricken state stumbled aboard the ship muttering something about freedom and goodness.

The rather large and ugly tan skinned pimply faced hobgoblin, spent the first few days sleeping off the worst hangover ever seen. The next few days vomiting because of sea sickness. And several more days in complete silence with a thousand yard stare obviously thinking of the atrocities of war he just can't seem to get out of his head. Now you can tell now the bruiser is itching to just get off the boat.

Maybe freedom is just the sun on your face. Ib whispers to himself.

Meet Ib the Bruiser

Ib whispers quietly. Oy lads what should be be doin