Malt's page

Why are the sniper rifles so terrible? They do 1d10 damage, have the volley & unwieldy penalties , have an ammo capacity of ONE, a range of 100 ft and are martial weapons. Lets compare this to the Seeker rifle, which does 1d10 damage, has no penalties, a capacity of 6 rounds, and range of 120 ft and is a simple weapon. So, same damage, longer range, no minimum range, able to fire more than once a round, 6X the ammo capacity, and a simple vs martial weapon.

Both of the sniper rifles have the fatal d12 ability which will come up maybe 8% of the time (the equivalent of +.44 dmg per hit, if you ignore blow-through damage you may get when scoring a critical). The Assassin Rifle has breakdown (very limited utility) and backstabber (+1 dmg for the 1st shot) and the Shirren-eye Rifle has kickback, which, when done correctly, can give a +1 dmg with no to-hit penalty.

I just don’t think these abilities close the gap between the gap between the Seeker Rifle, which is a simple weapon.

Got tired of having to look at each deity to find out what their associated Divine Skill and bonus spells were so I took the excellent AoN Deity chart and added columns for them. Feel free to take a look:

Pathfinder 2e Deities with Divine Skill & Spells.

Ok, take care. Congrats on the promotion.

Sorry for the late reply everyone! I thought that posted on Wednesday.

Quiet up till now, Malt raises a hand.

Thanks for yer confidence in us yer ladyship, but do we have a bit more ta go on that she ran with the Sczarni? Must be hundreds o' them in the city, what with there bein' six major gangs alone. Jist askin if ya have anywhere for us ta start.

With the end of the fight, Malt is once again out of his element and since the elves seemed to have the whole "explanin" thing in hand he goes about inspecting his wound, then dismissing it when he decides the chance of infection is probably low.

Malt rips his scimitar free from the sheath and growls at the diminutive fey.

Welp, we coulda done this the easy way…

Malt delivers a viscous hack at the pugwampi.

Move action to draw scimitar, standard action for a two-handed attack.

Scimitar Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
Scimitar Crit Confirm: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
Scimitar Damage: 1d6 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

Malt grunts as the blade skitters over his armor and tightens his grip on the pugwampi, trying to pin it to the ground.

Use grapple to attempt to pin: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19

Sorry, missed the direction on rolling for the pugwampis. I'll refrain from rolling twice for the rest of the combat.

Malt is suddenly in his element, he quickly appraises his tiny opponents and decides the best way to deal with a spindly and probably agile opponent is to pin them in one place. Not even bothering to draw his weapon Malt pounces on the pugwampi that Azari is not attacking.

grapple check #1: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
grapple check #2: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12

Ooh, Lucre, that’s a good one. Malt makes a mental note of this word and definition for future situations where he needs to “talk fancy”.

Whelp, my vote’s fer Lucre. Seems sumthin’ money-related would be what’s on a chest. Besides, I aint sure we want ta open a box with a code word o’ ulcer.

Malt hesitates a moment before interupting all of the scholars before clearing his throat.

Hey, err, this might not mean nuthin’ but the symbols on the bottom o’ that box is different than the ones up top. Just sayin...

Malt keeps an eye on the box. With the deceptive stillness of a crocodile, his muscles are coiled like springs, ready to explode into action.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

Hmm, maybe I should buy some books ta read or sumthin'. Pathfinder needs ta do more than carry heavy stuff and bust heads, I suppose...

Malt internally sighs at the once-over given him by the servant. His hopes of being treated differently in the home of a Pathfinder dashed.

Whelp, maybe his tune will change once I’ve built up a bit o’ credit with tha Society.

Malt strides into the room with the other perspective Pathfinders summoned to the manor. He is a bear of a man, not as tall as some half-orcs, at only 6’3” but massive all the same. Not the narrow waisted, broad shouldered build of the warriors of story books but a hulking build of the thuggish villains they regularly dispatched. He is clad in well worn, but well maintained, scale mail. A large shield is slung over his back and he is bristling with weaponry. A scimitar rides on his left hip, a cudgel on his right, his right armor gauntlet bristles with spikes and a quiver with three javelins peaks over his right shoulder.

As he looks at the scholarly gentleman waiting ahead of him, Malt softly grunts.

Whelp, I guess I know what my job is gonna be in this crew. Least it’s a step up from hired muscle.

For a moment he wondered what it was going to be like traveling around with a pair of “fancy elves” before recognizing the irony of this train of thought and pushing it out of his head. If he expected to be treated fairly despite his race, he had better well do it with others. With that he addresses the scholars.

Pleased ta meetcha. I’m Malt, Lady Heidmarch call you gents in as well?

Malt maintains his skeptical look as he brings the foil package under his nose and delicately sniffs it. After a moment he nods solemnly and addresses the man.

This seems to be in order. I shall inform his lordship that you were most attentive to his needs. He shall be the final arbiter of whether your product is of sufficient quality for him.

Malt gives a deep chuckle.

After all, one cannot expect a simple servant such as myself to make such decisions. If my master is pleased, we shall meet again.

With that Malt exits the shop, his jaw aching from all of that "fancy talk", especially "arbiter", he learned that one from a bard that traveled with one of his caravans and it never failed to impress. At least he had a source for decent tobacco now, even if the proprietor was a little gilded rat.

Whistling a Chelaxian sea shanty he had learned as a small child on the ship from Katapesh, Malt stepped lightly towards Heidmarch manor, opening his new packet of tobacco and rolling himself a cigar for later.

Malt sighs internally and briefly wonders how difficult it would be to tie the little gilded rat of a man into a knot before stepping up to him, looming just a little over the snooty man. Time to do the routine. Looking down on the man with a flat gaze he addresses the man.

Do you have any Solku Red? My lord will only accept the best. He has insured that I am trained to spot the difference between it and the inferior strains from Thuvia. His lordship simply will have none of that. I have been instructed to purchase two pounds as a trial of your shop’s quality. If it is up to my lord’s standards he will send me back for more in the future.

Malt fishes a gold coin from his belt pouch and offers it to the man as he continues to stare at him, one eyebrow raised as if to nonverbally ask “Well, what is the hold up?”.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

Malt whistled softly to himself as he read the leader the Sheila Heidmarch.

Wow, just gettin’ started and ya already got a Venture Captain callin’ on ya Malt me boy. One with a manor named after her, no less.

Malt thought this through for a moment and his smile faded a bit.

Why would someone this high up the ranks o’ society and tha “Society” be callin’ on a Pathfinder as green as me? Maybe, bein’ as it’s the only lodge in Varisia, she can’t exactly be choosy. OR. The more cynical part of him, the part he projected to the world, said. Or maybe green Pathfinders is more expendable… Be cautious Malt, this could get dicey but playin’ dice can pay off, if ya figure the rules out.

Checking to make sure his coin purse had not left with the nimble fingers that had planted the letter in his pocket Malt headed to the nearest shop he could purchase some tobacco from. He hoped they had the more fragrant pipe variety there as he detested the foul smelling stuff that was usually used for the cigars he rolled.

He was not much of a smoker at all but found the sight of a muscled half-orc somehow became more intimidating with a cigar in their mouth. The few times he had ever been confronted about the relatively pleasant smelling tobacco he used, Malt claimed it was a “special” blend from his homeland of Katapesh. Luckily nobody had ever pressed him further on that because him memories of Katapesh were spotty at best.

Malt will be taking a few level of rogue but it will be the "Thug" archetype. He will not have rogue trapfinding but he can take levels of disable device, in case Azari needs some backup.

With Audri's dex, wooden armor will just as well as studded leather but is 5GP cheaper and 5lbs heavier.

Sorry, the whole Alias thing is new to me. This is my first PbP on the Paizo forums.