Izkazk the Ankle Biter's page

Horizon Hunters

146605-2002

Tanning Lore: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17

This frog is still alive? Let's fix that, can we?

First Strike: 1d20 + 6 + 1 - 1 ⇒ (17) + 6 + 1 - 1 = 231d6 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
Second Strike: 1d20 + 2 + 1 - 1 ⇒ (2) + 2 + 1 - 1 = 41d6 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Izkazk chews a bit more through the slime clinging to their frame. 1 action, 1 action remaining to remove it.

Izkazk gnaws at the slime on their body, lapping some of it up 1 action twoard clearing the clumsy. They then turn their attention back to Little Zura. "Leave the smart one alone, frog!"
First Strike: 1d20 + 6 - 1 ⇒ (7) + 6 - 1 = 121d6 ⇒ 1
Second Strike: 1d20 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (7) + 2 - 1 = 81d6 ⇒ 5

"Ha! You think slime bothers the Ankle Biter? Sewer Dragons bath in goop worse than this!" Undeterred by the mucus, Izkazk marks Little Zura as their hunted prey 1 action and fires their shortbow twice, picking arrows through the muck.

First Strike: 1d20 + 6 + 1 - 1 ⇒ (1) + 6 + 1 - 1 = 7
Second Strike: 1d20 + 1 + 1 - 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 + 1 - 1 = 2

As the arrows clatter uselessly to the floor mere inches from leaving the bow string, the kobold hisses. "Well, I suppose it has been a while since I did train..."

Izkazk Strides forward 1 action, eying the large frog. "Your pet is big. But we have bigger in Absalom's sewers."

They raise their shortbow and take two shots in rapid succession. First Strike: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 6 + 1 = 91d6 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
First Strike Hero Point: 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 6 + 1 = 151d6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
Second Strike: 1d20 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 1 + 1 = 141d6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Izkazk, not too surprised that the longshanks stopped being friendly, draws their shortbow 1-action, marks the cultist as their hunted prey 1-action, then takes a shot Shortbow Strike: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 211d6 ⇒ 5

Will Save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

Izkazk shakes a bit more mud off their leathers, giving a token attempt not to splatter worshippers. They stand behind Ink, keeping still with obvious effort. Knowing the lying is not their skill, they let the gnome speak but are prepared to defend her if things go wrong.

An incredibly muddy kobold strides up next to the group. They wipe greenish-brown muck away from their face to reveal Izkazk. "Well, Ahksiva is a ghost who doesn't make tracks in the mud. I've looked. Best to go listen to the crazies."

Izkazk marks Ahksiva as their hunted prey and prowls the edge of the Fen where the swamp begins. They keep an eye on the muck, trying to find traces of a trail.

Survival (Trained): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

"And I know where to find them! There is an old temple to Aroden called the Guiding Light. The crazy paper said to be there next sundown." The kobold beams and rocks on the tips of their talons, obviously proud of themselves for bringing forward a piece of the mystery.

Izkazk nods to the robed figure and turns away quickly, scurrying back to the other Pathfinders. They nudge Doryg gently and place the pamphlet in his hand.

"One of the tall crazies gave me this. I think it's the best lead yet!"

Society to may know where the Guiding Light is: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

Izkazk pulls the dirty melon chunk free from their trident tines with a taloned foot, then motions quietly to any of their companions not engaged is speaking with the doomsayer. They then slip through the amassed crowd to the robed figure.

"Do you have something you needed to tell the Ankle Biter?"

Sorry, been a heck of a week. Will contribute more.

Izkazk pierces a shard of melon with their trident and takes a bite, ignoring the muck from the ground that has covered the piece. They let Ink approach the doomsayer, content to watch and scan the crowd for signs of trouble.

"We're mighty heroes!" Izkazk pipes up. Reigning their enthusiasm back a bit, they squint at the table in thought before continuing. "Something bad is trying to keep the Fen from being happy. I want to see this King's Closet. Maybe I can pick up some tracks."

"The Ankle Biter needs no protection! But I think you forgot about the tall one..."

Izkazk motions to Mirza that he should follow too.

Izkazk wiggles their clawed toes in the muddy slop of the street. The muck reminds them of the sewers in Absalom and they think of home.

"Dirt can hide things people have forgotten about. Could there be treasure or something important still in the Fen?"

Still slightly ajar from Ink's cautious entry, the door slams wide open as a small, green-scaled kobold bursts into the room. They whirl around in a set of localized chaos, twirling a trident in one hand and slashing the air with a hatchet using the other. Hyah! Hyah! H-YAH! Containing all the excitement of a child playing knight with sticks, the kobold spins in arcs, in a self-invented combat routine against an imaginary enemy. Through expert control or pure luck they manage not to strike the occupants of the room, though it is impossible to tell which it was that avoided an accidental slashing.

Coming to a dramatic stop with one final thrust up with the trident, the kobold lowers their weapons and bows in a sincere imitation of an Aldori swordlord. "I'm Izkazk, the Ankle Slasher. Remember it! I'm the kobold that will make the Pathfinder Society famous! Well... more famous than it already is... Just you see!" They wave a reproachful finger at the assembled party before settling into the biggest chair they can find in the room.