Larksong Brightarrow's page

Likewise.

Indeed.

Sorry for being gone - I had a death in the family and it meant driving to the middle of nowhere. No mental bandwidth left for internet things. I'll be back friday, but feel free to continue to bot me in the interim.

Lacksong moves to the side, her bow at the ready.

Ready a bow attack on the first enemy to make it into line of sight.

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
1d8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

We're no stranger to combat, robes to the contrary, but I'd rather not need healing. Mind the ceiling here.

Fascinating. How does a lamplighter relate to crime?

Larksong seems puzzled, but interested.

"Sounds like we need to find that book. Where did you say you found it?

Larksong dashes for the rope.

No idea what the proper roll is. Str is 14.

Move forward, Standard shoot bow at the fellow who pushed the others off.

attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

"Well, if we're going to settle it this way."

Surprise round - Draw Bow.

Larksong hangs back with Osborn, drawing her bow and sighting on the youths then calling out to them.

"Halt! The Lodge wants a word."

A foot and a half? That's quite the puddle. =p

Larksong's scowl grows as they walk deeper into the waters.

"I thought I'd never have cause to come here again. Where did I go wrong that I end up wading in the brine. Ugh. I think I just kicked a fish. Let's get this done and get out of here, so we can take baths in clean water and desalinate ourselves. Hey now, there's our stop. Someone open it up and let's get inside. Maybe they have a second floor out of the water."

Lark gestures, and looks up at the building hopefully.

Larksong scowls at the mention of the soggy piper, but she forces a smile with perhaps too much teeth in it to be truly happy.

"The food is atrocious, best eat before we go. Undead would turn their noses up at it, if they have them. Speaking of the unrestful dead, I'm not sure why necromantic constructs would be interested in the Puddles, but better to deal with them in a timely fashion if they are walking the streets with no keepers. Some necromancers are unconcerned with controlling their pets, and records indicate that that particular brand of madness always ends in tragedy."

She sighs.

"It is a wonder to me that any of us survive researching magic, divine or arcane. So many young idiots convinced that this time will be different. Thank you for bringing this to our attention ser Hestram."

Yep, I can play anything.

I'm a PFS newbie so I have no idea what to do about day job. Assuming I'm doing this right, Lark will be spending her 2 PP for a wand of cure light wounds, since infernal healing isn't core.

"I'd like to at least examine the shards of this one we broke to determine the enchantment. I'm sure a replica could be reassembled that would serve as an acceptable display piece while we work to analyze their strange curse. I would only need a small sample to begin the analysis, and the findings would of course be shared with you."

Larksong picks up various pieces of the idol, examining their insides. She curses a moment as she looks at her pack, then around the room looking for a magnifying glass.

"Why do I always forget the stupidest things? Don't answer that. I'll have to drag this back to my lab to work out how it created more than it's mass in fog."

As the man begins hollering, she looks up, then seeing that andrezi has it she tucks the piece away for study later, and ambles towards him.

"I say, did you happen to have an aqueous intensifying spell on the museum? Perhaps a fire deterrent? The mist was quite humid."

"That was strangely therapeutic. I'd never have guessed. Breaking the construct should restore the local humidity to normal parameters."

Lark song gestures casually, throwing some bit of ephemera at the statue, but it scatters harmlessly.

ranged touch: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
damage: 1d6 ⇒ 3

5/6 acid darts remain

I'll be around for it.

"Maybe snake is meal?"

Larksong ponders this deep mystery.

Sorry for the missed combat round - I'm in car insurance paperwork land. No injuries to anyone in the family but the back end of my wife's car is going to be replaced =/

"Larksong. Pathfinder. Wizard. Who are you closet man?"

Larksong emphasizes each word with a thump of her appropriated club.

Thran put that perfectly, post when you've slept. We understand being weary.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 19

"Case. Smash case for mist. Faces Bad."

Larksong gleefully smashes any corpse that seems similar to the undead from the first room, then moves along.

"The mist grows. Mind your step and count your toes."

Lark song follows Osborne, singing quietly to the mist.

"Pretty. Soft. Keep. Find. Help. Maybe smash."

Larksong continues to lash out with her club.
1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
1d6 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

"Stop hugging, silly. Must smash snakes."

This mist tainted template is hilarious. I haven't done any PFS before this, so I'm valid for everything.

"Puny. Weak. Crush the man, the mist makes strong again."

Larksong grunts with effort, battering the man with her club.

charge: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

I'm completely fine with whichever way you want to go, but you'll need to give Lark an in character clue to dissuade her from just marching north. 6 int, Zzzz

"This way yes. Hurry. Hurry! Mist, mist and mask, and maybe smash."

Larksong looks over the room, kicks a broken mask, then moves north to a new room.

"More to smash, more mist, more clubs. Find missing man. Maybe smash?"

Wizard Charge!

Larksong charges one of the creatures, swinging her newfound club with two handed abandon.

1d20 + 3 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 3 + 1 + 2 = 18
1d6 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

"Ha. Weak creature. Eat Club. Smash creature. Smash Mist. Ha!"

"Smash faces, smash mist! Where go?"

perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (19) + 0 = 19

Larksong looks around the room, and seeing nothing obviously threatening starts towards the next room.

RIP Spells, at least I'm wearing armor. Time to be a bad fighter. At least this is a long tradition among elves.

Larksong puts her bow away, and grabs for the ivory club. Thumping it in her hand, she smiles.

"Smashing Sorcery! Smash and grab. Easy job, easy time. You. You follow into the mist. We smash together, yes?"

So saying, she begins walking down the hallway to the first door.

Unless someone stops her, she's going to go kick in the south door. I don't think it makes much difference which order we take, so if you just want to move along follow ape lady!

"Well, I hope the rest of our time in this lovely establishment is as entertaining and enlightening as our time in the foyer. Why in the world would the museum keep animatable corpses in absalom? Don't they know that's asking for every 2 bit necromancer to come play? Ugh. And who left their alchemy experiment running, anyways?"

Larksong steps quickly past the skeleton, trusting her companions to do the needful. Reaching the wall, she peeks around the corner to take a look down the hall, bow at the ready.

Since I suspect the group will more than finish it and lark wouldn't go into melee only to provoke by punching it, I'll instead ready an arrow shot (1d20+4, for 1d8+2 cold-iron) in case anything heard us and joins the fun this round and take a look down the hall to see if I can tell which door is supplying this mist.

perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (4) + 0 = 4

Barring GM advice otherwise I'm just assuming he'll use my init actions from above spoiler.

You could just have the zombie warrior delay until it is at the same init as the thing/skeletons and have the same effect. They wouldn't go last, but we'd all go one after each other.

"What a charming ambiance. Like someone left their beakers burning. It doesn't seem poisonous, at least."

Lark comments on the fog, oblivious to the undead all around.

Lark checks her pack and shoulders it, then runs hands along the buckles to her armor. She grimaces a moment as she cinches one, and taps her fingers as she adjusts the waist of the sturdy leather over her belt.

It smells like death and it's tight, but better tight than dead. It shouldn't hamper me too much.

Lastly she takes the bow from her shoulder, and goes over it in detail. Satisfied, she settles it once more for the walk to the museum, and looks over the group, then offers her arm to osborn with a smile.

"Shall we walk then? I'm sure you've always fancied a night at the museum."

She sounds amused, now, and her smile widens, feline, at osborns momentary suspicion.

"We will of course be happy to assist, venture captain. When you say 'Root it out', or 'Supposedly' you seem to indicate a great deal of uncertainty. I notice as well that you fail to mention what 'it' might be. Did Lugizar file no reports during his mission on the state of his destination? I assume at least that we have the details of his planned route through the expanse if it was undertaken under the auspices of the socitety. The details of his arrangements might offer a hint of the size of his troubles, at the least. Did he return on schedule? Did he go to this meeting alone, with no obvious burden of crates and artifacts for this Nigel to be tempted by? I assume, from your certainty on the matter of a curse, that there is no time to track down our wayward pathfinder, but even some hint of the manner of his curse might allow us to prepare ourselves. You said he coughed?"

She seems curious, her eyes bright.

Ash checkin.

"I am called lark, and am glad to meet you. It should be an interesting time. I couldn't find any word of what our mission was, which usually means it's considered dangerous. Luckily, that means it is highly unlikely to be boring."

She grins expectantly, touching the tip of a finely made bow, and settling her pack with ease. Her hair and clothes are perfectly kept, her eyes bright as they pass over the rest of the group.