Kurvok's page

Well, we's did best we could. That was tough fight. Me's glad you's all still alive.

Drazzel gives everyone a warm smile.

Me's hopes Sewer Dragons not kick me out of clan. Maybe they think me "Drazzel the Not At All Magnificent".

”I’d like to see them do better”, Kurvok replies.

Good game. Thanks for running!

Kurvok tries to remain stoic, as he winces from the pain of the bear’s jaws. He remembered nothing after his ill-fated charge. Looking around, he is relieved to see that everyone survived. ”Yes, very foolish”, he mutters.

Haechi’s account fills in the gaps he was wondering about. His desperate gambit had failed; the enemy was overwhelming. ”At least we fight on for another day”, he adds.

Kurvok lets out a deep growl of consternation. ”This is very foolish”, he says.

Then he turns to Erathiel, and casts a spell on his sword, causing it to glow briefly. ”Make it count”, he adds.

Facing the bear, he roars as he charges it, heading toward his destiny.

Cast magic weapon (+1 to attack, +1 die of damage), Stride

Maybe the key here is to follow the cyclops through the portal, rather than fight?

Oh! Kurvok, since you didn't make a successful strike with the Wolf Fang in the battle with the giant ash skeletons, you still have it attached, btw.

So if I am successful, it goes away?

Kurvok, looking a bit worse for wear, takes out a potion of his own.

Minor healing: 1d8 ⇒ 3

”One way to find out, Kornel”, he says, heading toward the stairs.

After pulling the stragglers up the stairs, Kurvok considers the lightning that struck the kobolds, and tries to figure out a way to avoid it.

Nature: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Reflex save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Kurvok lets out his rope for the others to grab onto, bracing himself as an anchor.

Athletics: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Kurvok, do you want to use your Hero Point on that critical failure?

An excellent idea!

Kurvok narrows his eyes, as much to shield them from the wind as in frustration at Haechi’s progress. He pushes harder, straining against the howling storm around them.

Athletics: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

Getting shown up by the kobolds and the old man, Kurvok redoubles his efforts in his push through the storm. He pulls out his rope, and bulls his way along the stairs.

Athletics: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

Kurvok can’t help but smile a bit at the storm; he’s in his element, however unnatural. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have time to enjoy it. Forming a spearhead for the party, he tries to shove his way through the crowd.

Athletics: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

Kornel Pastovic wrote:

If it helps you visualize it, maybe the scroll-user doesn't need to read the scroll. They already know how the spell works, after all. They don't need to open and read the scroll, they just need to use the magical parchment as a catalyst in lieu of a spell slot.

I envision a user of a scroll just holding one end, then quickly snapping their wrist to unfurl it.

Maybe the bottom edge is attached to a pencil-thin dowel, which holds it open for one-handed usage?

"This was a meeting spot for cultists of Urxehl, the Trollfather," Darlann reminds Kurvok. "Do the monstrous faces look like trolls to you?"

As long as I can safely use the Refocus activity, I can lay on hands once every 10 minutes for 6 hp, so if we're not in a rush to go to the Museum we can safely patch up.

Kurvok glares at Darlann, as he quaffs a healing potion.

Healing: 1d8 ⇒ 2

"That was... Intense."Erathiel sheathes his sword and moves toward the brazier to inspect it.

”It was something”, Kurvok grumbles. He looks around to make sure everyone is accounted for, before the pillar near him catches his eye.

”Monster faces”, he points out. Looking around the room, he adds, ”Giant skeletons. That thing” He gestures toward the giant brazier. ”Was this a shrine to Lamashtu?” He spits.

So, uh, Erathiel, Kurvok: were you emotionally attached to these characters...?

Heh. To be honest, not as much as others, though I was enjoying his banter with Drazzel.

With Drazzel and Erathiel laid low, Kurvok throws himself into the fray. He lets out a raging roar, as he charges the skeleton.
Stride, Trip (Wolf Fang), Strike (Gauntlet)
Athletics: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6, 2B if successful
Attack: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
Damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4B

After the tasty pretzels, but before entering the lair...

As the irratated orc glares down at Drazzel, he holds the talisman up to Kurvok and speaks in a whisper.
Me's want you to haz this. You are me fellow passa-finder and I's consider you friend. You may still be mad from what I did in Eto, but, I's would never do you'se wrong. Here, take it.
Drazzel offers a friendly smile and explains how the Wolf Fang works.

That almost-smile returns to Kurvok’s face. ”Nah, we’re square, little man”, he replies, ”but thanks”

Kurvok isn’t much for marketing, but he won’t turn down a pretzel. He nods appreciatively at Drazzel.

At the shrine, he unslings his shield, and holds it at the ready. ”Let’s see just how ‘pristine’ this place is now”, he says.

Defending

Kurvok folds his arms. ”I’ve only had one with the Society so far”, he says. ”In a gods-forsaken desert to the south, this woman had a puzzle box stolen. We had to impress the sphinx that claimed the box, in order to get it back. I showed them my power. They were impressed” The trace of a smile appears on his face.

Kurvok returns to the chamber, and hears the discussion. His brow furrows at the discrepancies Haechi points out.

”Then let’s get some answers!”, he says.

Kurvok looks around at his companions in the chamber briefly, before heading over to the Sewer Dragons.

”Are any of them dying?”, he asks the chief.

He’ll stabilize anyone on death’s door, but that’s all he can do

Kurvok roars as the giant approaches him. He seems to hesitate for a moment, before trying to sink his mailed fist into the brute.
Raise Shield, Strike, Strike
Attack 1: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Damage 1: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4B
Attack 2: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Damage 2: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6B

Is Kurvok currently wielding a weapon? If so, we should be flanking the zombie now, I believe.

He is, indeed :-)

Kurvok growls as he is hit by the gout of flame, before Kornel immediately heals the burn. He glances behind him to make sure Haechi is okay, before focusing on his attackers. Another chant, and a single bolt flies from his hand, through the eye, and banks into the zombie. He then hefts his shield, and braces himself.

Cast electric arc (Ref save DC 16), Raise Shield
Eye damage: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Zombie damage: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Kurvok stalks toward the undead giant, his eyes narrowed. He gets halfway there before he starts to chant. The breeze around him starts to pick up, and he extends his arms in a V before him. Bolts of lightning shoot out of both hands, heading toward the flaming eye on Kornel, as well as the behemoth.

Stride, Cast electric arc (Reflex save DC 16)
Damage vs giant: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
Damage vs eye: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

Exploration Mode: Defend

Kurvok grimaces at his surroundings. The stench, the narrow tunnels; he could never feel at home in such a place. Erathiel’s mention of running water offers a bit of respite, and he tries to pick it up himself.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

”Did you find out anything about this...’clockwork drill’?”, asks Kurvok.

Kurvok relaxes a bit. ”Fair enough”, he grumbles. ”Keep it that way”

He gives Erathiel a nod, and waits for the briefing to start.

Kurvok is halfway through his ale, when the messenger finds him. He’s annoyed, but not too much. At least he’s not in that desert hellhole anymore. Taking one last swig, he sets it on the bar, and heads out.

”Dreng...Dreng...”, he mutters to himself, trying to remember where the office is. He looks around, noting the buildings he uses as navigational landmarks. Then he stalks off, beelining for the captain’s quarters. He knocks on the door, then opens it.

He’s not the biggest orc you’ve seen, but he has an air of danger about him. His shoulder-length hair and short beard, continuously stirred by a light wind, are black. They frame an olive-green face, with dark eyes and cruel-looking tusks. It looks like gills on the sides of his neck, but they turn out to be tattoos. He wears studded leather armor, with a gauntlet on his right hand, and a metal shield slung on his back.

”Kurvok Thargson”, he rumbles, looking around the now-crowded room. His eyes settle on Drazzel, and narrow. ”You”, he adds menacingly.

Player name: Mitch
Character name: Kurvok
Class/level: Oracle 1
PFS ID: 142569-2009
Starting XP: 1
Reputation: 1 (Horizon Hunters)
Downtime: Lore (Sailing): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

As Drazzel rolls away, Kurvok pats his coin pouch to make sure his reward is still there. Then he turns to Hepcut.

”What was that thing you drink? Dakka-ree?”

Good game. Thanks for running!

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15

The group huddles up in discussion, suggestions made and discarded in hushed tones (except for one), until finally they face the sphinx.

”Whether traveling the seas of water or sand”, says Kurvok, ”you need a map to get where you’re going”

Without clues, my guess:

Zandyk claps his paws together politely at Kurvok's show, a bemused smile on his face.

"Clearly, the mystery of the winds and the waves moves through you," Zandyk remarks. "Be you a devotee of Gozreh, Kurvok, son of Thrag?"

That's one success. I need Aeinquel to answer the question I've got for him, and we're awaiting Jun-Mei, Drazzel, Hepcut, and Erathiel.

”I make offerings to the Wavelord before a voyage!”, Kurvok shouts above the storm, ”but my power is my own!”

He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, basking in the rain in this dry foreign land.

Refocusing

Kurvok’s face darkens as he glares at the sphinx, his brow furrowing.

”I am Kurvok Thragson of Irrisen, and I am the storm made flesh!”

He casts a spell, sending a cascade of water into the air that sparks with electricity. The breeze which had continuously stirred his hair now whirls around him, picking up sand and other debris.

”My howl is the thunder booming across the sky!”, he shouts. ”I am brother to the wind, and master of the waves!”

He casts again, and throws his arms wide. A wave of water rises up behind him, and crashes against his back, spraying around him in a massive burst. The swirling winds grow stronger, spreading wider, with driving rain soaking the sand.

”I am the fury of nature unleashed!”, he screams above the whirlwind. ”I destroy without pity, laying waste to all in my path, leaving silence and death in my wake!”

Casting tempest touch and tidal surge

Intimidation +6

LET’S GET SCHWIFTY!

”Some stories about sphinxes and their riddles end in blood”, Kurvok replies, ”but I won’t attack if you won’t”

"Ugh, I didn't even want to be on a stupid desert mission, so no I'm not gonna attack you. We're looking for a puzzlebox, its about yea big. Have you seen it?"

”It was taken by bandits”, Kurvok adds. ”Did you see them?”

Nice crit, Hepcut!

Made one pre-emptive flat check, here’s the second
Flat check: 1d20 ⇒ 3

Kurvok grimaces as the creature flies off. ”Get over here, meat!”, he snarls. Following it toward the rocks, he unleashes another bolt of lightning, which arcs from one gremlin to another.

Stride, Casting electric arc, targeting yellow and pink (Reflex DC 16)
Damage 1: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Damage 2: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

Flat check: 1d20 ⇒ 16
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Flat check: 1d20 ⇒ 15
Flat check: 1d20 ⇒ 6

Kurvok hears Aeinquel being attacked, and cracks a cold grin. ”Here, little fishy”, he grunts, running up to the gremlin. He opens his maw to take a bite, then tries to sink his fist into it.

Stride, Strike, Strike
Attack 1: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
Damage 1: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Attack 2: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20
Damage 2: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Taking cover behind some nearby rocks, Kurvok chants a mystical passage in a guttural tongue. He points his mailed fist at the gremlin, and a bolt of electricity hurtles toward it.

Stride, Cast electric arc
Reflex save vs DC 16
Dazzled: 1d20 ⇒ 12
Damage: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6