L.B.'s page

"A shot," Elby says snidely. "Elby so fast I shoot him dead then shoot him again before his body hits the ground." The wayang glowers at Vinny.

L.B. glowers at the halfling, stroking the crossbow's stock as he does so. "Elby don't like loose ends. Do we trust his story? Give him a knife back and the opportunity to fight his way out? Be more thorough ourselves this time?" He hefts the crossbow a little. "Easy way to make sure there's no tail."

Studied target on the halfling, then Intimidate.

Intimidate: 1d20 ⇒ 18

L.B. narrows his eyes at the gnome. "Yes... US," the wayang says darkly.

L.B. continues to load the crossbow as the two flee. He watches them appraisingly. "Book of 1000 Whispers?" the wayang asks inquisitively. "Did any of you hear that?"

L.B. grins as the human comes to him. He quickly fires off a shot.

Attack, w/ Deadly Attack and Studied Target, -4 for melee: 1d20 + 7 + 1 - 1 - 4 ⇒ (15) + 7 + 1 - 1 - 4 = 18
Damage: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

L.B. begins reloading the crossbow and positioning for better lines of sight.

I'm assuming with the halfling down, that it will be L.B., Nixim, and Jan up next, so I'll go again...?

L.B. hurriedly cranks the crossbow as he narrows his eyes at the human.
"No one escapes Elby," the weird little wayang mutters as he narrows his eyes at the human, sidestepping around the pillar.

Move to reload, move to Studied Target the human, 5-ft step.

L.B.'s paranoid mind doesn't have room for 'diplomatic' tactics when someone is holding a knife. L.B. darts to one of the other pillars, raising his crossbow up to eye level and taking a shot at the armed visitor.

Deadly Attack on the halfling: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27
Damage: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Confirm: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21
Damage: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

L.B. begins smiling under his heavy wrappings, and begins whispering again to the bow as he begins fumbling for the crank.

L.B. narrows his eyes at the halfling, gently stroking the crossbow as he brings it up to firing position.

Studied Target on the halfling as a move action. Giovanni should be next unless one of them acts.

I think you can't retry a linguistics check until you have another rank put into Linguistics... kind of a hard-nosed skill.

Assuming L.B. hasn't been incinerated by some clever trap hidden in the orb, he will continue his tactic of striding ahead of the rest of the group as they leave the cavern.

L.B. is already peering closely at the gem as Jan asks the question. If it appears safe, L.B. will pack the gem, having no need for the light himself.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11
Disable Device (If necessary): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (10) + 12 = 22

L.B. slips through the hole in the wall, crossbow loaded and at the ready.

Stealth: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (10) + 15 = 25
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

L.B. nods. "If your human frame cannot function without nourishment, then we should eat," the wayang says. "It seems to be a human thing to not desire to carry your weapons constantly - something to do with being such hulking creatures, I imagine." L.B. shrugs. "Elby and wayang do not have the luxury to stop thinking about self-defense."

Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12

L.B. furrows his brow in confusion as he touches the underlined words. "These... these are aspirant domains. From the Starstone's Shrine Of The Failed." He leans close to the name and whispers "Wiffle."

L.B. begins to tick off points on his fingers. "So... the password we got from Fimbrik is 'wiffle,' and we're supposed to go to "Evil Grin"'s name... is there anything else?"

L.B. watches as the cryptkeeper shuts the party in the mausoleum.

Assuming the keeper walks away from the door after doing that... If he doesn't, L.B. will adjust his plans accordingly.

L.B. creeps across the graveyard and lightly taps on the mausoleum door for the party to let him in.

Stealth: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (11) + 15 = 26

L.B. follows after the party, trying to maintain his distance. He watches the gravekeeper suspiciously, assuming that any non-wayang is a savage threat.

Stealth: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (18) + 15 = 33
Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 4

Hey everyone, running games at a con this weekend, so if I'm holding things up feel free to bot me, as posting will be sporadic.

L.B. watches the man suspiciously, creeping away from the group and sticking to the shadows around some of the other tombs. Moved on map

Stealth: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (8) + 15 = 23

When L.B. joins everyone else upstairs, he listens intently to anyone who reads the note. "Elby thinks that we need to explore the mausoleum too," says the wayang. "Too many questions, not enough answers. Whatever happens at the Wall Of Names, Elby wants all the information and clues before we invesitgate the wall."

L.B. looks at Jan for a moment, ears twitching thoughtfully, then immediately begins rifling through the papers, looking for the earliest date on the newspapers.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

"But what is "it"? Jan asks LB, tracing the Taldane symbol for a quote in the air.

L.B. gives a disinterested shrug. "Cleaning? Don't try to trick Elby with stupid wizardy-like questions," he says peevishly. He keeps his crossbow held high and begins following the windy janitor down the stairs.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

L.B. paces back and forth with the papers, watching each one suspiciously. He begins cursing heavily in Wayang when Jan closes the door and scurries over to open it again before the... wind-thing is stopped by the door. "It's cleaning," the wayang says to Jan, as though that explains any of what is going on or what L.B. is doing.

L.B. mutters under his breath, but in common for a change.

"Stupid gnome won't talk... two can play that game, stupid gnome."

He slips into the room and goes to investigate the door. "Heard a sound," he says as he passes Vinny to creep into the other room.

Disable Device (if necessary): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13
Stealth: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (18) + 15 = 33

L.B. creeps over to the door as Nixim talks. He positions himself, combat ready, against the wall and listens to the exchange.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

"Mind the western door, Giovanni. More magic there than in a minstrel's melodies. Jan goes toward that door, then looks at the rest of the group earnestly "I know we couldn't find Dreng, but is that really a reason to break into the home of a fellow pathfinder, even a suspicious one?"

"This wizard is no Pathfinder - Friends with a false Pathfinder, the one with secrets keeping. If long-lifed gnome had answered Selmius' questions ages ago, then maybe we wouldn't be here now." The wayang makes sure that his trusty crossbow is loaded again. "Maybe tricksy magic gnome is ready to answer questions now," L.B. says darkly.

As the wisps of light begin to formulate, L.B. is already in motion - he narrows his eyes and watches the third beetle for a moment before shooting a bolt and stepping back into a corner of the room.

Studied target on Beetle 3, shot with crossbow with Deadly Aim, 5-ft step.

Attack: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27
Damage: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

Confirm?: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24
Confirm damage: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

L.B. gives an evil-sounding chuckle as the bolt (presumably) hits home.

L.B. seems to let his guard down some, muttering just under his breath as he stalks from doorway to doorway, checking the perimeter of the room starting with the double doors to the left and going clockwise, if that helps, GM.

L.B. whirls around, ears flattened to his head, and makes... a hissing sound? It's hard to tell with how muffled the wayang is, but the narrowed eyes speak volumes of Nixim's interruption.

L.B. silently enters the room, checking the spiral staircase first for any signs or sounds of life coming from deeper in the house.

Stealth: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (4) + 15 = 19
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

L.B. peers around Giovanni as he picks the lock on the door, his ears twitching as he scans the area too.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

Seconded!

L.B. stalks out of the crack in the wall, almost surly that there was nothing to fight. "Area is all clear," he says. "Tracking living targets seems a fine plan."

L.B. leaves the crossbow loaded but stalks down the crack the choker came from. He doesn't respond to Heryn or anyone else in the party.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9
Stealth: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (10) + 15 = 25

L.B. narrows his eyes at the creature, quickly looking it over. He cocks the crossbow.

Move to study target, move to load the crossbow.

L.B. moves away from the creature, cursing at it's attack. He yells in his native tongue.

Move and fire, no deadly aim.

Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Before paying any attention to the desk, L.B. creeps into the the room and peers through the cracks into the space beyond, his crossbow Betsy at the ready.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Moved on map

No protocol - L.B. won't stop you, though he may cover his eyes against the splatter from whatever trap you may trigger ;)

Giovanni draws his rapier.

on your guard. People in secret rooms value their privacy.

L.B. nods at the reminder and quietly unslings his crossbow, loading it with a quarrel.

L.B. steps forward, eyes narrowed. The little Wayang doesn't trust... well, any of it, really.

Checking for traps or items of interest.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

L.B. follows after Heryn, dropping to all fours and scrambling like an animal.

Am I right in guessing Acrobatics check to make it across the narrow surface?
Acrobatics: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20

The talk of wars and battles has L.B. completely pulled in - the little wayang sits, ears flattened to his head in awe, as Yargos recounts the tales of ancient Osiriani battle and valor.

L.B. seems mollified by Yargos' answers, and sits on the ground, sipping his milk as Yargos answers the others' questions.

"My name is Yargos Gill. I'm a historian, primarily of military matters, but take an interest in any of the great works of the past. I'm not a pathfinder myself, you understand, but I admire the work you all do, even if agents sometimes get a little...carried away."

L.B. migrates to the table with Yargos, eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by... carried away?," he asks suspiciously.

L.B. sits at the bar with his cup of milk - he's slid enough of his rags and wrappings out of the way to take a sip.

"Of course Elby has tales! Big dangerous tales. Tales that would make green Pathfinders like you turn green with fear and envy!" He takes another long sip of milk. "But these are not tales for running errands or sipping milk. I shall save these tales for other times."

L.B. slowly moves away from the wall, even slinging Betsy. He cautiously approaches the bar, looking askance about the entire room.

"One glass of milk, please," he says to the bartender.

L.B. slides into the room, sticking with a back to the wall and as close to shadowy corners as he can. He posts up in a corner of the raised dining area - though he does seem to be attempting to listen to the halfling woman telling tales assuming I put myself close to that.

Moved self on map.

Nixim's brow knots up in anger as Dreng leaves.

"He gathered us here to retrieve a bottle of wine for him? Surely I merit a much more important mission!" the gnome complains.

"This venture captain will surely receive some bad conduct reviews..."

The gnome continues on for some time as they travel to the tavern.

L.B. slips out of Wayang to commiserate with the gnome. "Yes! What waste of talents! Elby is a trained killer, not some urchin running fetch missions for coppers!" A snort issues from within the face wrappings. "If this Society were not so generous with their coin, their leadership would have no one to lead. Elby would be first out the door!" He waves a finger in the air for emphasis.

He can't help himself - the muttering resumes.

L.B.'s face immediately darkens back to the glower. He manages to restrain himself from muttering in Wayang again, but his words are strained as he speaks.

"So... we're errand-running... for a bottle of wine... for you to drink on the street." The wayang's fingers are white around the knuckles as he grips his crossbow.

history (untrained): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21
local: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

Once confronted with information, the worst of L.B.'s malicious nature melts away. The little brow furrows in thought.
"Old bar - Pathfinder founder Selmius Foster drank there. It is structurally sound, yes? Elby not dying by squished in rafter-falling incident because humans neglect old building."