Julzaeron "Jules" Jericho's page

. . . So apparently when you have an friendly character getting melee attacked by a target of your ranged attack, you have to take a -4 to your attack roll; this ruins my whole sniping plan. G&#~@#NIT PATHFINDER.

I guess I'll have to Cube, I tried. Expect a full out funeral service by Jules if you don't survive.

Tears well up in the eyes of Jules; the one man he trusted enough to share his fear with, the man who promised to guard his life, his only real friend, and a man who he admired was dying in front of him. And he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Bursting into sobs, Jules cries out to the paralyzed wizard. "If you can hear me . . . Please, don't die! I-I'll never forgive you if you do! Fight whatever is attacking you!"

Taking a 5 ft. step forward, he pulls out his Kukri and anticipates to charge.

If anything, I'll be able to rush the darned thing and take him out before Cassiel dies. Here's to praying for the dice not to be evil.

Dear Dual: The reason why we didn't bring a cleric is because that way the campaign couldn't be a)filled with religious carp, and b)easy enough for us to stomp everything.

That being said, we really could use a Cleric. I might consider taking Jules in as one, but I'm already considering Fighter (stacks on stacks of stat buff b/c Myrmidarch, baby).

The melody of pipes terrified Jules to the bone; awash in a dirge, he ran forwards 25 feet, and rolled for anal circumference sheathed his kukri.

"Beriadanwen, my friend; it has come time to deliver justice upon them."

prepare for arrows, m8s. let's just say that dex bonus isn't just for show.

Shaken gives you -2 to Attack Rolls; unless I'm mistaken. In that case, I'll revise it.

Why do I have to have no Religion ranks? Why can't Know. Religion be a class skill? Why?

Jules, savoring the fact he had gotten armor on his body beforehand, swings at the closest skeleton to him with his kukri.

Attack Roll: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (10) - 2 = 8

Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

Initiative:: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21

Jules, shaking from the terror of the undead before him, shouts out to his allies:

"Gyrth i Chuinar. . . G-get back!"

Jules follows the two as well, readying an arrow in his shortbow.

Jules immediately hated the essence the prison gave off; the thriving grime, hatred, and anti-repetitiveness that flowed during it's life still sent shockwaves across Jules' body.

Turning to Shoukichi, he speaks aloud.

"I do not know personally of your life; as creeping as a fox, you are with such a truth. But even still, I trust you with more faith than I could ever spare." Approaching the young man, the half-elf embraced him with a hug. Letting go, he turns to the rest of the group.

"And the same belongs to you all, too. By the spirit of the late Professor Lorrimor, and all the kindness and hope he and my parents have brought to me, I shall offer my dedication to whatever we do."

"Oh, the Dwarven language! To them, it sounds a tone of pride, valor and studiousness; but to the rest of the commoners, it merely captures the drunken babble of babies who never got any taller than when they came out of their bearded mother's womb!", spoke the slightly irate Jules.

Jules flinched a bit at the offer; he was already fearful of the place, and yet he didn't want to appear cowardly to the rest of the group. Speaking in his native tongue, he spoke solemnly, yet pleadingly, to Cassiel.

"Rucin o bant mí i gador; ananta in thang ecess tai lárën ni praëfus chaul-ië sestan delos. Ada tambë, im thel bad-dh; nan im maquet ne beria-dh nin."

Knowing safely that the dwarf besides the both of them wouldn't understand the Elven tongue, the half-elf waited for a response from Cassiel.

Might need some time to formulate my next post (revolves around Jules talking to Cassiel in Elvish to digress the fact he's scared to death of going to Harrowstone without letting anyone else hear). If we move out before that, I'll save it for the road.

for the sake of continuity not being an issue, I'll just say Jules once again gave up on his "hunt" for purposes of not wanting to get shanked

Jules stumbled out of his own bed a few minutes prior to Ezekiel's wake up call to Shoukichi, getting up without being noticed by the others. He promptly crept down the stairs, and sat down for breakfast with the others.

"May I ask that you tell me what you all have been up to in the past couple of days? Sight of you all has been scarce and scattered amongst the passages of these mournful days, and I must admit it has had quite the effect on my mind." The half-asleep half-elf chimed, slightly rapping his spoon against the table.

The thought of going to Harrowstone menaced him without relent; not only did the utter melancholy of the Professor's demise quake through his spirits, a hammer against an anvil, but the rumours of the spirits that lurked there sent his mind into depths of fear beyond anything he'd experience before. Any of the phantoms or wraiths within such a den inside the stone-laden heart of darkness stood beyond his own comprehension and understanding, and would surely tear his soul apart.

I know that I'm going into b%&&*%&+ detail with writing now, but I feel as if I should make up with the lack of characterization and activity in the game. Part of tabletops to me (at least, from my perspective) is the way you look at other PCs and form a story of your own within a campaign. But in the end, maybe I'm just over-thinking it.

Jules shivered, as if realizing something beyond him was going on that he needed to do.

"Um, I'm very sorry, but I'm going to have to depart for today; something terrible must've happened, and I have to be going at once. Thank you so very much for your help!"

Jules dove out of the store, and started to head towards where he felt the worst of dreads; Harrowstone. Damnit, if those men have gone out and wandered there AGAIN, I'll be sure to hassle them for it!

"Hello there, miss! I am, with the accompaniment of some friends, on business here of retrieving and delivering tomes borrowed from the late Professor Lorrimor; however, being a native of Lepidstadt since birth, I know the dangerous trek to follow." Jules let the flow of his words resonant through the air as he told his need to the blacksmith.

"And thus, in such haste, I have visited you today to inquire about obtaining some more powerful weaponry."

Jules decided to head into the Ravengro Forge; sure, his unused shortbow and finely sharpened Kukri had done him good, but he longed for a blade more swift, more briskful, more . . . agile.

yup, going for the agile enchant

Jules got up from bed at noon; his habit of staying up late and studying textbooks (one he picked up in order to impress the late Professor, by the by) had not died would not die without a struggle. He put on his regular clothes, and headed down into the streets.

Seeing Steef from a distance, Jules walks and catches up to the dwarf from behind.

"About last night; I tried following you and the others over to the site of the Professor's death,"appealed the half-elf, "but I got lost along the way. Shortly after, I decided to head back to the Lorrimor estate should there have been any thugs roaming the streets that late."

Jules got up; he wasn't going to mope around without friends. As he approached the door, he turned to the people of the bar and spoke.

"I do not know what you said to them; I do not think I would even care. But if you did anything to hurt them, then I promise toil upon you all for a generation."

Jules departed, trailing after Steef's footsteps to Harrowstone.

Jules arose from the chair he had been sitting in from within the library; he had no interest in reading any of the books they provided. Walking out the doorway, he began to make his way to the Laughing Demon's;
maybe he could get some reprieve from today's misfortune?

------------

Pushing forth on the front door, Jules entered the tavern, and made immediate note of the horror-themed decor. Walking past tables of silent people, he sat down at the bar beside Steef, and dug into his pocket for his coins.

After pulling out 2 platinum coins, Jules turned to Steef. "You okay, friend? You seem to be rather sorroweful." He put his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "Do ye need to talk to me, brother?"

"I would love to; although I must promise that I'm no public speaker." Jules spoke up. Standing, he walked over to the front of the grave.

". . . My life hadn't always been an easy one. Even in my own hometown, I was insulted and targeted for abuse by other children and adults; and all because of my race. But only when I began studying under Professor Lorrimor, did I ever find any real compassion toward me as a person from anyone outside my family; when I and many others had been in weakness, the wise, diligent and sympathetic man who had been Petros Lorrimor had helped us and worked hard so we could rise above our troubles, our flaws, and our own insecurities to become great students, and even greater people."

Tears began to pour from his eyes like water from a spring; yet he continued.

"But even in his grimmest of hours, Professor Lorrimor demonstrated a deeper emotional connection to everything and everybody around him; more than a single man had ever or should've ever needed to possess."

Jules finally began to break down into sobs; yet he continued his speech.

"And for such a man of devout heart, mind and body, I may only leave these simple words for his resting soul; Quel fara, ar' quel kaima."

tl;dr Jules basically was subjected to racism, Lorrimor came along and gave him sympathy, and Jules basically becomes devout to his ideologies.

my apologies for that. hacking and all that carp. gonna get the account back soon though.

"How dare you try and combat my friends!"; and with that, Jules released a series of strikes at one of the two remaining farmers; first, a slash with his kukri.

(attack roll is 13 like before,+3 for Weapon Finesse, total of 16
Damage: 1d4 + 0 ⇒ (1) + 0 = 1
-----
Again, he swung his kukri at his foe.

Attack Roll: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

. . . And he missed!
-----
Once more, he swings with his kukri, desperate for a hit.

Attack Roll: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21
Damage: 1d4 + 0 ⇒ (3) + 0 = 3

this is what happens every time I try to format dice

I don't know, all I know is my initiative score is 6. g#$++~ned formatting

okay then!

Jules decided to jump into battle; he wouldn't dishonor his professor like this. "Gurth gothrim Tel'Lorrimor!"

EDIT: why the frack isn't this working i'm scared; anyways my initiative score is 6

"Whatever field of magic such a wonderful man got into, he shall not be discriminated against," Jules shouted, standing on the sidelines in case anything got too rowdy.

So can I join a battle as it's going on?

dat rape face on abraun

Bowing in shame, the slightly shaken Jules spoke to Kendra: "My sincerest apologies be directed toward ye. If it would be enough to honour the great man that was your father, I would be glad to be one of the pallbearers."

please tell me cheese-juice isn't hallucinogenic

The half-elf sighed; fighting at a funeral wouldn't get him anywhere. "This is most likely going to be a miscalculated choice, but . . . sure."

Even from the back of the room, Jules could here the drivel the people were spouting; something about food. Then, an offhanded comment about elves and fox meat.

You don't like Jules when he's angry.

Swiveling around to face Ezekiel, he quipped at him: "Antolle ulua sulrim, you putrid racist!"

Jules, standing not too far from the front, quietly letting the tears flow off his cheek like arrows from a bowstring.

Quel kaima, Master Lorrimor. You taught me almost every thing I know about combat and magic.

Sorry for doubleposte, but I've figured it out!