Lemminy's page

Lem sheathes his shortsword, a little dejectedly. Listening to Delroyas commendation, he holds up a finger. "Not questions as such, but..." he begins, waddling over to the nearest Aspis thug and giving him a sharp kick in the ribs. "There. That'll about do it."

Oh, that's interesting. I'll roll my day job check then. Cheers!

Perform: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12

Sorry for the wait, birthday festivities ran a little on the long side.

"Come on, you slaver bastards. Have a taste of this!" he says, beginning a sleep (DC 15) spell targeted at the mouth of the skylight.

Full round action, cast on next turn. Can ready for an opening if none are targetable.

Diplomacy, Aid Another: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

"The drinks at the Unkempt Virgin are better, anyway." Lem chimes in, unhelpfully.

"No thanks. The only poison I favour comes on tap." Lem says, with a grin, white teeth a stark contrast to his grease-stained face.

Wisdom: 1d20 ⇒ 1 "That's all the entrances blocked off, one way or another. What could possibly go wrong?"

Lem will scatter some caltrops in front of the main entrance, and take cover behind one of the boxes, a smokestick at the ready. Stealth: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

I spotted some "spongestones" for poison in Halflings of Golarion the other day. Not sure if they're PFS legal, but perhaps worth looking into post-game.

Lem will remove his velvet tunic and roll up his sleeves. "Welp. We halflings are no strangers to dirty jobs. Buck. You any good with machines?" he says, picking up the bucket of grease.

"Thought you mancatchers liked your dogs." Lem says, peering into the crate. "If he's upsetting you I can put him to sleep. Or perhaps the fearless bounty hunter needs someone to tuck him in and tell him 'the big bad wolf won't hurt ya'." he jeers, poking around the storeroom. "Hey, smokesticks. Score!"

I'd say lowering the elevator and somehow blocking the way to the office is a good plan. Although there's a chance we won't get it working again or that the noise will attract trouble, it leaves us with a nice narrow corridor for our guests.

"She's right. I don't think they'll take it too kindly if we try to bargain with property that ain't ours. No matter how charming we might be." he says, with a wink. Searching the warehouse with Aiden, Lemminy cocks his head around. "I say board up the office. That way they'll have to take the front doors or the freight lift. They'll hear that rusty old thing all the way from Absalom. Might be we can rig it to jam, as well."

Perception (aid another): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
Does anybody have Disable Device, perchance?

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16

"Drinks are better at the Unkempt Virgin anyhow. Let's make ourselves scarce, gentlemen. Lady."

"Jus' smoothing out a disagreement, officers. No trouble at all." Aid Another: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

Staying out of sight and entering the tavern a few minutes after the party, Lem had hoped to play the part of a disgruntled regular, but noting the tight-knit group of regulars and the suspicious glances they cast his way, he opts to join in Segray's ruse.

Aid Another: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13

Reaching to his ear and removing a pearl-studded ring, he flings it across the bar at the bartender. "Worthless! Couldn't buy my way to Absalom with this piece of junk." he barks, rounding on the beleaguered man from the other side.

We can opt to strike a deal with the barkeep or intimidate him into closing up early, although I don't see that happening without a bribe and we don't want to overplay our hand. I'll wait for the others to weigh in before doing anything drastic.

The first task is to disrupt a meeting between two agents, one each from the Aspis and Kortos consortia. Somehow, a snooping Kortos agent caught wind of my plans, and has set a meeting with an Aspis agent to reveal me and ruin everything. The bad news: I do not know the identity of either agent. The good news: I know that they intend to meet at a tavern called the Overflowing Oyster at noon on Oathday—the day before the shipment of drugs is to leave Diobel. If you can disrupt this meeting, you can prevent the Aspis from taking a closer look at my plans. However, you must be discrete. Killing either agent, or revealing yourselves as Pathfinders meddling in the Aspis’s operations, would only cause them to grow more suspicious. It may help to know that the owner of the Overflowing Oyster is involved in creating fake pearls and selling them on the black market.

While hesitant to get the guard involved, it may be our best bet to causing enough full-scale chaos that a meeting is impossible. I'm just trying to think how best to frame this...

Lem takes a cursory glance at the documents, shrugging. "It's all Varisian to me, I'm afraid."

"Ha! Caught? What's the worst they could do to us?" Lem says, with an optimistic smile that's just tempting fate at this point.

I was under the impression that sabotaging the documents would be enough, and if that's not the case we should still have a shot at the alchemist down the track as a fallback plan. At the moment though it doesn't really effect our escape, so let's just play it by ear. :)

"Sounds like a plan. Bugger the ledgers. Give them to the sea or torch them. That should prove plenty delay for these slaver scumbags."

With the partys agreement I say throw the ledger out of the porthole and make our escape now, before we're discovered.

Lem, his grin conspicuously absent in his slaves get up, winks his agreement and slips away from his escort.

sounds like we're all in agreement!

Nice one, Rex!

Disguise (take 10): 10 + 4 = 14

Lem will remove his finery, tucking the various coins and charms he wears on his person into his belt, and stashing his vest and silk stash nearby. Taking up a clump of dirt, he brushes it onto his skin. A token effort, but enough to make him look sufficiently downtrodden. "I'm ready. Lead on."

That's right.

"Well... you know I don't much get to leave the kitchens. Thing is, I ain't been on a ship before. Leastwise one with such a fine coat of paint such as this. I was thinking you might smuggle me aboard so I might look around below deck. For ol' times sake? What do you say?"

Bluff: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
Opposed Charisma Roll: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

I think trying to get everybody aboard might be a good way to blow our cover, but I'm hesitant to go full Rambo on this. We'll see how far I can get, however. I'll try to be prompt in posting while I hog the limelight.

"Ah, hellfire. I'd hoped they might be loading that cargo and we could smuggle inside that way. There's no way we can approach like this. Hold on... I'll try my luck with the laborers."

Stealth: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

Lem will use the crowd of workers to cover his approach, a halfling scarpering around the docks being hardly an unfamiliar sight. He presses his back against the far side of the cargo, out of sight. Raising his flute to his lips, he blows a few notes of a melody, barely carrying over the bustle of the docks. Charm Person from out of sight on one of the workers, DC 15.

Relying on the average tradesman's innate ability to stop for a break, he hails the nearest worker with arms wide. "Old friend! Fancy seeing you in a place like this. By every god and their mother, how many years has it been?"

"A little early for the tavern, isn't it? But who am I to judge. Our mark isn't due until noon, but I for one could do with some breakfast."

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13.

Lem stretches his stiff limbs from their overnight journey and takes a lungful of ocean air. "I love the smell of a new city." he says, grinning. "While we're here at the docks shall we see what we can learn about this ship? We can always make for the tavern by noon if things don't look promising."

Provided there are no objections, Lem will learn what he can about the ship and its crew. Diplomacy (Gather Info): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12

Lem salutes the venture-captain before bounding up onto the taffrail to read over Aiden's shoulder. "Aspis Consortium. Slavers and worse. Oh, I'm going to have fun on this assignment." Lem says, perusing the notes with his ever-present grin. "Delroya's tip seems sound, and I'm liking the way you think, bounty hunter."

He sits, legs dangling several feet off the deck as he regards Rex thoughtfully. "Did you miss the part that we have to go trudging through a sewer? As much as that alchemist deserves a blade in the gut, I think that's a little above my pay grade..." he says, jokingly. The hard evidence is hard to pass up, but Lem's skillset and magic is all pretty well geared toward the second task. I'd vote for tasks #2 and #3 if we come down to that, but am not strongly inclined either way.

"Callous bastard, aren't you?" he says, with a smirk. "For the record, I do like bastards. Just glad to hear you're hunting the monsters rather than working for them. I've a tale or tell that might bring you round to my way of thinking, but... some other time, eh? Don't like to pass judgement on anyone I haven't shared a drink with. -mm- ... next time, on me." he says, draining his glass and turning to the others.

Lem motions to the musket. "I think what her ladyship means to ask is where you got your hands on a nice piece of kit like that."

You actually have no idea how giddy I was when I read that spoiler upthread, Enchanter Tim. Very glad I settled on Lem. Shouldn't be too much more moralizing, as I don't feel it's his style, but having just read Fredrick Douglass for the first time I'm finding it hard to resist.

A brightly-clad halfling claps his hands together and surveys the room, grinning good-humoredly. He wears a strange medley of rough linens and fine silks and velvets, a handsome red coat over a porter's rags and a bright silk sash, adorned with trinkets and coins from all over Avistan. "Ah, fantastic! Is this everybody?" he says, pulling up a chair and hoisting himself into it.

He'll grab the decanter from Huckleberry and pour himself a glass, swirling it around and giving it a taste. "Tart, full bodied... Corentyn? Five silvers says I can guess the vintage." he boasts, putting on airs for a moment before grinning at the gunslinger. "Was swiping bottles of this from my master's cellars from my fourteenth birthday." Let's say bardic knowledge covers Sommeliering. Yeah. Why not? :P

The bard lounges in the chair, far too large for him, with relative ease, sipping his wine and extending a hand to shake. As an afterthought, he meets Aiden's eyes. "I wouldn't be so forthright about your past, if I were you. There are some in the Society that don't take kindly to the subjugation and degradation of their fellow men." he says, still smiling, with only the slightest edge to his voice. He winks. "Name's Lem. Orphan."

Take 10, Knowledge (local): 10 + 2 = 12