Knight Mordred's page

Mordred shakes his head, only catching bits and pieces of the conversation, distraught over having to buy a new sword.
"Yeah... itd be a little nice to know where she last was, and also... can someone spot me a few gold for a new longsword on the way there? Haha.. I'm a little err.. broke."

Mordred roars in anger and embarrassment over his sword being broken, he leaps toward the creature and takes a swing at it with his fists.
Unarmed Strike: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Crit Confirm: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
Crit Damage: 2d3 + 12 ⇒ (3, 2) + 12 = 17
Mordred around the couch and takes a power attack fueled swing at the creature for a potential crit(also omg I've rolled too many 20s)

Mordred shakes his head.
Will: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21
Will: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Mordred grins at the tiny dog faced creature and takes a step forward.
"Here it comes!" He boasts, taking his sword in both hands and making a large sideways swing.
Longsword: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Crit confirm: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
Damage: 2d8 + 18 ⇒ (1, 5) + 18 = 24
He cleaves through him and continues his swing to the next one over.
Longsword: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
Damage: 1d8 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11
Mordred 5 foots forward and power attacks, doing a possible crit toward the one above him, then he tries to hit the one to the left of him with cleave.

Mordred grips his sword, backing up a bit from the creatures advancing from the billowing smoke
"I dont know about that, but this is a puzzle I'm MUCH more willing to solve!"
Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

Mordred cocks his head and picks up the box.
"Well, my dad was pretty wealthy, I think I heard that term thrown around a bit... you think that ancient thassawhatevers were rolling in money?" As he says this, he attempts to rearrange the letters into the word lucre using the instructions from the notes.

Mordred cranes his neck, leaning in over the table to inspect the box.
"Eh, a paradox box? You guys have a bard come up with that name?" He snickers.
Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
He looks at the notes lazily and back toward the box. "Boy, they really liked that symbol, eh?" Is that the rune for wrath then or..?" He asks the rest of the people at the table.

Mordred rolls out of bed the morning of the meeting with Sheila Heidmarch, holding his head as it falls onto the ground.
"Ahhh, today already?" He sighs, pulling himself off the ground. The teenager has had a rather lackluster if not troublesome past few months, from drunken run-ins with law enforcement to rumor spreading, hes proven to be quite the mess to his father. Today, however, he intends to make things different.
"I can do whatever I put my mind to!" He assures himself, looking forward to the golden opportunity the Pathfinder Society has offered.

Hey everyone, I'm planning on playing a human Two-handed Fighter for this, so I'll be worth my weight in DPS but not much else.

Mordred wants nothing more to prove his worth to his father. An aspect that his plays into everything he does. He takes his pride seriously, and any insult to it is a chance for him to bring his sword down.

The sheet in filled out in this account.