Jchk'hah / Popper's page

Looks good, thanks GM! What a wild ride that was. Definitely a tougher scenario for someone with only one offensive spell that robots are immune to, but fun nonetheless.

EDIT: Just so it's known, I purchased graphite carbon skin and a static arc pistol. I think I can do that at the end of the scenario, right? I don't have to wait until next game to purchase those?

Popper waves excitedly at his faction leader before realizing she probably has no idea whatsoever who he is. He puts his forelimb back down sheepishly.

I don't know about all you, but I definitely need a rest.

Since no one seems in immediate danger of collapsing, Popper saves his Healing Touch and simply takes a breather.

Spending 10 minutes to regain Stamina. That fight was brutal! Can we please face something with a mind so I can stab it with my brain? DX

Badly wounded and wavering, Popper sees Haldir fall and sighs. No respite for him, he supposes. He steps cautiously away from the robot next to him and places a hand on Haldir's unmoving form, pushing healing magic into him.

Guarded Step, then casting mystic cure on Haldir.

Mystic Cure @Haldir: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

Eyyyy!

Reflex DC 9: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

Someone yells "Heads up!" as one of the bots fires off another eye beam.

Popper turns and starts to say Wha--? before a laser to the face cuts him off.

Thankfully the bot's beam emitter seems to be faulty because it only singes him around the antennae a bit. Still, it was pain he didn't have to suffer if he'd paid more attention.

I agree with Kaladyne, there's still far too many of these things left for my taste.

He points his azimouth pistol at Orange and fires off a pair of shots.

Time to go crit fishing! Full attack.

Laser Pistol vs EAC: 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (16) + 2 - 4 = 14 F Dmg: 1d4 ⇒ 3

Laser Pistol vs EAC: 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (10) + 2 - 4 = 8 F Dmg: 1d4 ⇒ 2

I caught a guppie!

Okay, I think I got it all in. :)

Reflex: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13

Popper does a weird pirouette type thing, but far less graceful, to dodge the worst of the laser blast.

Reflex DC 9: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
Reflex DC 7: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Yay? XD

Popper makes a noise in his throat somewhere between a yelping cat and a dialup signal as he dives away from the worst of one blast right into the path of the other, taking it in the face.

OWOWOWOWOW he chants, grabbng his burnt mandibles. Those were already deformed without you melting them, jerk! he snarls mentally, despite the fact that the robots probably can't hear it. He rushes forward and fires off at the robot who blasted him.

Moving up 30 ft so Pinkee can charge if he wants.

Azimouth Laser vs Orange: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19 F Dmg: 1d4 ⇒ 3

I've always been more curious than cautious. I wanna know what they're after!

This time Popper draws his laser pistol; he's not getting caught unarmed again. He waves the others to follow and takes a few steps in that direction, but pauses to see if anyone else follows him. He's curious, not stupid. He has no interest in fighting a swarm of robots by himself.

Still feeling exhausted--he's unused to so much walking and running in a day; the most exercise he usually gets is his gardening--Popper nods and follows the others. Here's hoping we get there quick. All this violence is really draining my magic.

Popper cracks his... forelimb joints?... and gets to work trying to rewire the AI computer so it doesn't keep crashing vehicles.

Physical Science: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

Here, Pinkie, let me help! The shirren makes a grand gesture of waving his forelimbs around, muttering in a spooky language, and calling on Ibra's aid. It's all quite dramatic.

To anyone who knows how to cast spells, however, they know it's wildly unnecessary and seriously extra.

Casting mystic cure on Pinkie!

Mystic Cure (Pinkie): 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

He shakes his head. If we could find a place to rest, I could heal the rest of your wounds for you. Dang robots!

If we can rest, Popper can use his Healing Touch to heal you for 10 hp, but we have to find a safe spot first.

----

Seeing the chaos at the intersection, Popper immediately starts tending to the wounds of the people already out of vehicles.

Medicine: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14

Popper grumbles in his own head at having to use mundane bandages and antibiotic ointments instead of magic, but there are just too many injured and he has limited magic left for the day. Who knows what else they'll come up against? They might even find the scoundrels responsible!

Be nice to squeeze the brain of the jerk who did all this, he thinks to himself grumpily--only to realize he'd "spoken" aloud. He looks down at the small child whose arm he was bandaging. Uh. Sorry, hatchling. Maybe don't repeat any of that to your parents, okay?

Energy? Poop. I'm a lousy shot.

He keeps his pessimism to himself, however, and draws his azimouth psitol to take a quick potshot at the robot.

Azimouth Laser Pistol vs Mobsec: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22 F Dmg: 1d4 ⇒ 2

Whaaaaat!!

Crit Dmg: 1d4 ⇒ 1

I don't think it can light on fire twice so ignoring the Burn crit effect.

As if to utterly defy his own thoughts, he nails the robot right in a sweet spot. Popper stares uncomprehendingly at the gun.

Wait--am I a lousy shot? Or am I SECRETLY A SUPER ASSASSIN?!

More robots. It's all robots, and oozes, and things with no proper brains to strike at. Popper feels more useless by the second. He forces himself not to sigh dejectedly and heaves a chunk of rubble at the thing with his brain hustles forward to get within range.

Really should have looked at the map before posting. DERP. Waaay outside the range of telekinetic projectile, so Popper will double move.

Popper hums cheerfully as they walk, for all the world looking supremely unconcerned with his botches at the triage tent. Internally, however, he is screaming obscenities at himself in a long and frankly impressive tirade of self-vitriol.

Popper wanders around tending to wounds and offering botanical advice for DIY salves and poultices.

Life Science: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8

I firmly believe the forum dice roller has it out for us.

Seeing Pinkie getting roughed up bad, Popper looks for something dull and non-resonant, since these things seem to like sound so dang much. He finds a chunk of ferrocrete debris, thinks, Good enough!, and hurls it telekinetically at the ooze smooshing the morlamaw.

Moving 20ft northward then casting telekinetic projectile at the ooze.

Telekinetic Projectile vs Green: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20 B Dmg: 1d6 ⇒ 5

Haha no problem!

I'm back from vacation so I will be able to post regularly once again!

tfw someone plays Popper to character better than me XD

Love the bot post! I'll try to post for Popper's next turn if I can. Been a busy few days but I should be back to regular posting schedule by Monday. Thanks for your patience everyone!

Popper doesn't need any of the spell gems, though I wouldn't say no to the mk I ring of resistance to use during the scenario if no one else wants it. Popper is rocking a whopping +1 Fort save :S

Popper waves at the relief workers as he follows Pinkie and the sled, but bends his head to and fro, alert for danger. He keeps his pistol holstered for now; once they move toward the Lorespire again, he'll probably draw it just in case more robots show up.

I'm on vacation for a week, so my posting might be spotty. Feel free to bot Popper if need be!

Popper glances around uncertainly, not wanting to break the ancient-looking radio but also not very good at manual labor. Before he can get his hesitant forelimbs moving, Antares is well on her way to fixing the radio. He moves to help with the boxes (a weak back is still a back, he supposes) but Twila is already moving the boxes.

Useless bug, he thinks to himself with a sigh. Next time just go help.

Can I help, Twila? He shuffles over hesitantly and offers to help moving the crates around.

With my +0 Str mod, I'm just going to try and aid.

Athletics (aid Twila): 1d20 ⇒ 7

Popper does that thing where he stands around with his hands in his pockets going "Uh, need... need help?" But he's so pathetic looking everyone just rolls their eyes and goes "Nah dude, we got it."

Hi Dot! I'm Popper! Popper does not share in Twila's hesitation, and hustles into Dot's shop, rubbing his forelimbs together. This is wild! A little scary, too, but wild! I wonder what caused this? Hopefully we'll know more when we get to the Lorespire. Do you know the best route to the Lorespire, Dot? Hopefully one that might have fewer security bots? I'd rather not get zapped into oblivion while trying to suss out this whole mess. His antennae practically vibrate. But hooboy! What a way to go, amirite?

Popper isn't super familiar with Absalom Station--he's from Verces--but he was here for his Commencement not that long ago. He tries to recall the best route to get to the Free Markets from here.

Totally forgot I'd done the Commencement with Popper!

Survival: 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 3 + 1 = 22

Mending targets one object of up to 1 bulk. Neither androids nor pure constructs are considered objects, so far as I'm aware, and the bulk limit precludes androids anyway.

Before we go anywhere, I think we should rest for a minute. Antares took a nasty hit.

I think we should take 10 minutes so Antares can spend 1 RP and get Stamina back. That was a brutal one-two punch!

@Antares: I can use Healing Touch but it takes 10 minutes and I can only do it once per day, so I won't have it if someone takes a bigger hit. I can, however, do mystic cure. I feel like that would be better than using up a consumable since my spells are a replenishing resource, but if you'd rather use the serum that's fine.

Let me know if you take the spell. The minimum healing will heal your hp to full so no need to roll.

Sorry for the delay! Out of town and my laptop is packed, so posting from my phone.

Popper, unsure what else to do, pops off two more shots at the robot whose not blocked by the giant pink fellow.

Laser Pistol vs Green: 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (1) + 2 - 4 = -1
F Dmg: 1d4 ⇒ 1

Laser Pistol vs Green: 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (9) + 2 - 4 = 7
F Dmg: 1d4 ⇒ 3

Ref Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17

Popper yelps and ducks as the weird goop flies over his head. He puffs out a relieved breath and fires twice at the nearest robot.

Laser Pistol vs Red EAC: 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (5) + 2 - 4 = 3
F Dmg: 1d4 ⇒ 4

Laser Pistol vs Red EAC: 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (5) + 2 - 4 = 3
F Dmg: 1d4 ⇒ 2

Wow. That's awful.

No problem! I totally understand the pain, I have like six different systems floating around in my noggin right now, and it's the ones that are very similar (eg, PF1/PF2/SF) that are the hardest to keep separate!

I think you only start flat-footed in PF1. According to the CRB, "combatants who are surprised at the start of battle have the flat-footed condition (see page 276)." That implies those who are not surprised are not flat-footed. Still, 16 is pretty darn good against EAC at low level, I think it's likely a hit. Not a bad start!

Popper sighs. He's mostly useless against robots. He draws his Azimouth laser pistol and moves toward the northern observer bot.

Draw weapon, move 15ft.

Faction: Dataphiles Champion
Slotless: Welcome to Starfinder Boon (no charges used yet)

In the middle of his calming noises, the back-facing shirren is jostled forward hard by the sudden stop, landing on his butt.

Ow. He almost complains, then realizes he just fell down instead of flying forward into the front of the train and literally becoming a bug on a windshield. We're alive! Huzzah!

---

Once they enter the train station, he wrings his appendages uncertainly. When Haldir announces where they are, Popper shrugs, antennae twitching anxiously. Good idea as any, yes? Pinkiee, care to lead the way? Popper stays somewhere in the middle of the group's formation, ready to throw out a healing spell or crush a brain, as the case warrants. He does not draw his laser pistol yet, however. He doesn't want to present himself as an armed threat unless someone (or something) threatens first. People are panicked enough without armed strangers roaming about.

@Antares: I believe there was a spoiler earlier for the Computers check at DC 18, so I think you made it!

popper holds his hands up and makes cooing noises. He doesn't actually speak--it's a painful process and he doesn't think it'll help anyway--but at least he's not broadcasting telepathically into everyone's brains and freaking them out anymore.

Popper hangs out and thinks positive thoughts.

Not much use here. I guess he can sort of place himself in the aisle to block people from crowding the front of the train while Antares works their magic?

Popper slows down, realizing he actually isn't good with computers at all so he has no idea what he'd do to stop the train. Instead, he sends to everyone nearby, Yes, it's alright! We'll get this sorted shortly, just stay calm please!

Also going to aid the Diplomacy check. I suspect we got as much success as we can get, but Popper literally can't really do anything else to help, he has no ranks in Computers. :S

Diplomacy (aid): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

Popper unfortunately sometimes forgets that not everyone likes strange voices suddenly appearing in their heads, and probably didn't help the situation at all.

Popper starts to fall behind the others, not being terribly athletic himself. This is what he gets for spending all his free time growing herbs and spices instead of jogging. I'll get there eventually! he huffs, somehow managing to sound out of breath via telepathy. Just keep going... almost there...

Double move.

Right! Popper sends. I think Antares is onto something. All the robots and androids are affected by... whatever that was! Let's hustle! He starts moving toward the front of the train.

Standard action will be to move 30 ft toward the front.

Popper looks around, bewildered. Is anyone hurt? he sends, getting to his feet and peering around in the obnoxious glare of the red emergency lights.

Taking a move action to Seek. As a shirren, Popper also has blindsense (vibrations) out to 30 feet. Looking for anyone or anything out of place here.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11

Will probably choose a standard action based on the results.

Of course! Popper sends. I love meeting new people! This is only my second mission for the Society! Well--third, if you count my commencement. It was rather, um... involved. His antennae vibrate slightly. He suddenly slaps his forehead with one of his extremities. I didn't even introduce myself! Where's my head at? I'm" He sends a noise that is unpleasantly scratchy, not quite nails-on-a-chalkboard bad, but definitely jarring, that sounds like Jchk'hah. But most people call me "Popper." They call me that because I can explode people's heads with my mind!

He pauses, and his antennae twitch guiltily. Well, okay, not really. But I did give a very rude vesk a nosebleed once.

Oh, don't get me wrong, data points are important too! he sends. It's just... I think my favorite part about science is that no matter how much we learn, we always find new blank spots that need filling. It's like trying to pour water into a jug with a hole in the bottom. But you still need the water, so you keep filling the jug. I guess I'm just more fascinated by the hole than the water. His antennae twitch in embarrassment. If that makes any sense?

Oh! Popper sends with mild surprise. The shirren speaks telepathically; it's likely his malformed mandibles have something to do with his choice not to speak aloud. Truthfully I have no idea. Weird, right? But that's Ibra for you. Nobody knows what constellation this is. That's what makes it perfect to represent The Inscrutable. Ibra's all about the mysteries of the cosmos. The movement of heavenly bodies. It's all just... The shirren sighs wistfully. Weird. I love it.

He gestures to the datapad in the android's hands. Working on anything interesting?

Profession (herbalist): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (6) + 12 = 18

Oof. Not great.

Popper stares out the window, half-mesmerized by the flow of traffic, watching the Lorespire steadily grow in size with a sort of distracted curiosity, his malformed mandibles twitching excitedly from time to time. He always enjoys gazing at the Lorespire; few places on Absalom Station invoke such grandeur. He wonders, as he often does, what secrets the building holds. He absently strokes the pendant around his neck, a circle and arrow with a constellation inside, then smooths the creases of his functionary's robes. He'd just returned from worship when he got the call for a new mission. Blackmood was some time ago, and he is eager to go on a new adventure. He feels like a hatchling, unable to sit still as his anticipation grows.

Player: Apoc Golem
Character: Jchk'hah, aka "Popper"
Level: Mystic 1
SFS #: 6269-701
Slotted Boons: Just Dataphiles Champion and I think I still have all my boxes for the Welcome to Starfinder boon.

Need a Day Job roll now, or wait until end of scenario?

See you around! Thanks again!

Looks good! Thanks so much.

For the first time since their mission began, Popper speaks with his mouth. The words are slurred, and he clearly has difficulty speaking them, likely due to the deformed mandible. "Tthank you, Guidanssse. It isss appreshhhiated." He bows, then turns to the others, this time reverting to telepathy.

This was fun! I hope to see you all again soon.

Thanks for the scenario, GM! I had a blast.

Popper's antennae twitch as he considers their options. I wonder if it is intelligent? he muses "aloud." Perhaps we could speak to it.

Popper turns on his armor's environmental protections, immediately feeling better. He moves over to the vent and peers inside, letting his vibration sense feel out for any trace of movement within the vents.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

If he doesn't see (or "see") anything in the vent, he'll move to the next room. Should we place ourselves on the map in the slides, or no?

Ah, jacket weather! :P

Popper blinks, only now realizing the room is warmer. Huh. Weird. He moves about, looking for the source.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9

Good grief.

Popper shoos the children off E-Deck. Off to your parents, now, you rascals! We will do our best to be careful with your friend, okay? Go on now, your father is worried about you, I'm sure.

Once the kids are gone, he plants his hands on his hips. Kids, amirite? He clearly has no idea what that statement is supposed to mean. I wonder what this "pet" is? And how'd it get on board?