Marcellus Thrune's page

"Is there a problem in here? I heard a disturbance."

A close-cropped dark haired human in upper class chelaxian dress with a strange polearm skids to a stop in the doorway. His gray eyes take in the room quickly with a professional's glance, taking in the situation. The gaze comes to rest on the candelabrum, and he frowns a bit.

"Is that an artifact under study? Is it haunted? Is everyone here cleared for that kind of research? If not, it is best to have a staff troubleshooter on hand, just in case something happens. We wouldn't want another flooding issue or the like to happen."

He notes the book being read, and the bulge covering the cards that have just been put away. Then with an energetic stride he moves to the stacks to begin investigating there.

Marcellus is well-known in the Archives. He's a Seeker who has taken up the task of promoting safety throughout the place, and his reputation from his active years as a Pathfinder is that of a competent warrior with good sense.

spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12

Marcellus frowns a bit from his position by the wall. He holds his polearm at the ready for something ... strange to come bursting forth. He remains quiet, however, letting the Necromancer perform her task without interruption.

Marcellus notes the indication made by Cathran as he looks over the area, and studies Janus for a moment. He turns his glance away to Zoe, and gives a quick glance to Aleph.

"Yes." He nods in assent. "It is often weird around here. You may have heard of the flooding not too long ago? It comes with the territory. Though, for something over a century now, all of Golarion has been 'weird'. Different areas in different ways. Even many would say someone with a familiar is 'weird'." As if timed for it, a small arachnid comes from under Marcellus' shirt and focuses on Zoe, as if studying her.

"Anyways..." he continues, "I'm Marcellus. It's one of my self-assigned duties to look after things here. You'll find some helpful types around."

A whipcord lean, but obviously muscular man with a polearm of some type enters the room at a run. He slides gracefully to a stop and looks piercingly around. Those who spend time in the Dark Archives or who practice with the Swords are likely familiar with the Seeker, Marcellus.

perception: 1d20 + 27 ⇒ (4) + 27 = 31

He takes in those present, the flesh-impaired wolf, and the fresh damage to the floor. Gauging those present, he still asks, "Did one of the artifacts or documents activate? Is anyone hurt here?"

A fairly quiet 'click, click' of combat boots comes down the ancient stone corridor, and the light of an orbiting ioun torch light the passage as a lean, muscular man holding an unfamiliar polearm walks with some determination.

"Oh, excuse me," he says in a low, respectful voice with a distinct Egorian accent. "I didn't expect anyone down this far at this time. Do you require any assistance?"

perception: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (5) + 20 = 25 ; knowledge(religion): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

His gaze goes to the newcomer and a piercing evaluation happens quickly. "Are you where you are supposed to be? I could escort you, if you prefer. It might be safer that way." He doesn't say for whom it might be safer.

Marcellus is a well-known Seeker working with the Dark Archives for several years now. He also serves as an instructor with the Swords.

The man, after hearing Yal-Luth, sighs heavily and shakes his head slowly.

He speaks again in a low tone, appropriate for a library, and addresses the half-elf. "Things are going fine, Young Wizard. I have just heard some disturbing discussions of using items of magic to summon or animate, and I needed to remind new members to use appropriate facilities for such endeavors." He looks down for a second. "And it is just Marcellus, please."

Marcellus is a lean, muscular man of Chelish descent. Bearing a polearm of some sort, he enters and looks around, and raises a brow to Julian and moves to Merrin. He starts to speak in a low tone.
Sense Motive on Julian: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (1) + 15 = 16

"Please remember that we have places with proper wardings for testing spells and other summons. There may be others ahead of you, which can incur a short wait, but you should get your turn. As for research here, I'm not sure where the Paracountess' Chief Archivist has gotten to, but you can make a request for assistance with his assistants. If you have earned your membership, then the unrestricted stacks should be accessible to you."

A lean, fit man of obvious Chelish ancestry enters into the Archive. He's been seen here before quite often, but not so much of late. He's armed with some sort of polearm but wears no armor. He looks around and gives a respectful bow to the elf, Imoganth.
Knowledge(Local): 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (11) + 17 = 28, diplomacy: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (14) - 2 = 12
It's obvious he knows the forms, but his execution leaves something to be desired.

"Hello, I'm Marcellus." Marcellus is a member of the Archive, but has spent much time as an instructor for the Swords. He seems a bit ... embarrassed by something Selena has said.
bluff: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (20) - 2 = 18

"I was told there may be some ... testing to be done, and I often get to stand by as support. I can't do too much of the magical protection, other than figuring things out, but I am somewhat skilled at controlling wayward ... constructions, summons or other issues. Is this the right room here?"

"Might be a version of a form of the dragon spell, at a guess."

Marcellus, known as an assistant instructor for the Swords in his off time, approaches with a nod to the rider and mount. He's carrying an exotic form of polearm, and wearing rather fancy clothing for the training ground.

"Though, someone as advanced as the Venture Captain, here, might have ways to do it without spells. I'd hate to speculate too much."

He moves to examine the pitiful remains of the training dummy, and scuffs a piece of cloth with his boot. "As you learn more about dragons, Captain Mea, you might learn how to do that kind of thing while flying. But, watch out for opponents waiting for your arrival!" He offers a comradely grin to the dragon.

"Look, people, we are all Pathfinders here, and there is still need to cooperate even at the higher levels of the Society." The man steps back then and rolls his eyes just a bit. "Oh the fun that She must be having, riding herd on the disparate groupings." he thinks to himself.

"Oh, and by the way, I, Marcellus, have made my progression. If anyone would like assistance with martial tactics from the Swords, I am happy to assist. Or is just some sparring is needed, come on down to the Training Grounds. I, too, will be investigating the happenings at the Reborn Forge."

Marcellus, Fighter(Lore Warden) 7, Monk(Maneuver Master 4) just retired from level 11, and I haven't decided where to take him at level 12, but I do intend for him to take my next Arc.

appraise: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

knowledge(nobility): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7

knowledge(local): 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (16) + 17 = 33

"You know," Marcellus drawls just a little, addressing the Hellknight, Vrakiss. "You might find just a ... little difficulty with the establishment here. It seems that at least one Order had imposed on them some bad paperwork, and a significant personage was, shall we say, sent to a hmmm, bad place. The order imposed by Orders might not be as ordered as some from the Orders might like around here." The unarmored man tosses his polearm to his free hand.

"However there is, in fact, need for underlings to protect and defend those who are studying and collating information. It might just be a place you fit in well. You could always apply for an internship and see what comes of it." He looks the Hellknight over once again, and turns his attention to the improbably dressed newcomer.

knowledge(local): 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (7) + 17 = 24

perception: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (20) + 20 = 40

His eyes focus on the holy symbol at the belt. "Doctor Love, I would have to say. Greetings on this fine day."

He turns once again and offers a small smile to Namaeva, but then looks to the rotund, scaly man with a puzzled look on his face.

knowledge(local): 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (18) + 20 = 38

"Sin'Thal, I would have expected that someone of your ... experience and tendencies would not tend to do battle with conveyances and passages, but would rather just cut out the intermediaries. Why bother with the chaff to get to the kernel of matters?"

Perception: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (6) + 20 = 26

"He left quietly." Marcellus shrugs, and refocuses on the halfling.

He furrows his brow, recollecting on something. "I've only gone up against robots one time, but that time they weren't all that dangerous to our group. Like most things with a man-shape, they don't fight well from lying on the ground. They are pretty hard to hurt, but with more skill comes the ability to target precisely and punch through the protections they have. We did learn that lightning can cause them great difficulty; you just have to use enough of it."

Knowledge (Engineering): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8

"I have heard that some groups that encountered robots had real difficulty with them. I think capturing a few to see how they work might be very useful." He turns to look at the rapid-speaking scientist, "Would you be able to do something with a study-subject, Miss Diri?"

(Perception r - 12, b 13, t-28)

(Motive r-16, b -1, t-15)
(Note I entered as you announced his type, which Thrune confirmed, hence my question, then you focused away and as it wasnt attacking me it seemed a harmless enough. I rarely roll sense motive as social isnt my skillset yet. I just go with the bluffs as real...we're all lawful right :-)

Under the text entry window, there is a spoiler for 'How to format your text.' In there, at the bottom, there is a bb-code for 'dice'. It uses the built-in dice roller to generate numbers. One of the cool things is the roll is kept as you preview the post you are making, letting you post in response to the roll.

As far as Namaeva's comment, I think there is a disconnect on what was seen or heard. This is similar to play-by-post, but without a GM, so disconnects can happen.

Still holding his fauchard, Marcellus looks to Yuuno. "I use weapons as the tools they are. My fists and feet are enough to take down many foes, but I specialize in minimizing damage to my team. With this," He tilts the polearm, "I can prevent the approach of many enemies, saving injury and equipment damage." He shrugs and continues. "I find it important to keep those I work with alive and hale."

Marcellus' eyes go wide at Diri's speech, though he seems to follow most of it.

He speaks in an aside to Shayd while still looking to the alchemist/scientist. "I will engage with lethal force if you like, however, I -won't- kill you. It is far too costly to replace a brave and loyal agent, so that part won't happen." Then he shifts his attention back to the non-stop talking woman:

"You know, there are places you can make your own for experimentation, such as an unoccupied siege tower and smaller islands off of Kortos. I believe many of the objections leveled at your research would disappear if you were working away from populated areas." He pauses and taps his chin for a moment. "Now, I, myself, am no effective researcher, though I have gained some insight into many areas of knowledge in my time with the Pathfinders. It might be possible to gather sufficient lore and equipment to suffice for beginning needs, and it sounds like you could create your own more advanced tools as you work. It is possible that I could acquire such a place..." He leaves the suggestion hanging.

"The mission I came closest to failing was in Nidal. We could not rescue our guide, and following that was utter chaos. I found the place distasteful." He takes the blade and reverses it, passing it back to the owner, hilt first. "We don't damage other Pathfinders here, not if we can help it. I frowned at my memories of Nidal, not at anything you did. And, if you need a workout with live steel, it can be arranged, but it is best done with healers about so there is no accidental loss of life or limb. We do not need any additional jeopardy over and above what we get on missions."

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (17) + 15 = 32 since the DC was 15 for Namaeve's bluff.

He nods sagely at what the halfling said. "He was at the Blackros Museum when there was some ... difficulty there. Hasn't been the same since."

He rises smoothly, transferring the polearm to his left hand, and offers his hand for a shake. "Marcellus. You may have seen me as an instructor in the Swords' training yard."

His eyes go to note the pattern in Shayd's clothes, but he makes no comment on them; there is just a brief flash of hardness in his glance.

Marcellus nods dubiously, and then sips at his tea. "You do understand that you will have rather severe prejudices to overcome? I suspect that bringing Fuzz... bungler up here to the main area of the Grand Lodge might not be the best choice. I think in the actual area of the Archives he would be less of a distraction." Once again, he sips at the tea and looks to the cup as if studying it to try to learn what characteristics are important.

The lean, muscular man chuckles softly, and does take the indicated seat. "I am sorry to disabuse your sensibilities, Namaeva, but I don't think I could distinguish between the two. There are those back in the Court in Egorian who could expound at length on the subtleties," he rolls his eyes at the recollection, "but I am not one of them."

He looks to the industrious creature for a moment, rather intently, and then shoots his eyes back to Namaeva.

Knowledge (Religion): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

"Forgive me, you will have to explain the intricacies of interactions with your ... assistants. There's no side effects as might occur with the ... wrapped slumberers in Osirion? I don't think I have met one except on the other side of my weapons."

Marcellus remains standing, both hands on the polearm, and tries hard (but fails) to hide a smirk. He shakes his head slowly, and his smile grows into a warm one.

"I should have known my family name would become public some day. I guess there are secrets that just can't be hidden away. My name is Marcellus, and I would very much prefer you call me that, Namaeva."
He looks around the general area. "Now, the reason I stopped is that some activities might not be appropriate for very public areas. I hope you take that into consideration when you organize what you do here. And yes, I do notice your ample skills in this area. It just takes time to understand which of the myriad considerations you attend to are the actual, important ones."

He nods to the gnome and Tian woman. "Greetings to you both. I am Marcellus, and I might assist the Master of Swords in some of your continuing education. For a bit of advice, try to assimilate all you can, because varied skills of dealing with people can become very important to your careers."

His eyes return to Namaeva and he waits patiently for her to calm herself and respond.

A fit, well-dressed Chelaxian man with an exotic polearm in hand walks by the the area in the Grand Lodge and stops suddenly. He turns to look at the trio? quartet? of beings, and focuses intently on the halfling. Feet spread shoulder-width and balance ready for conflict he seems to wait patiently for his attention to be returned.

A calculating glance goes to Niri, seeming to take in her physical form, but then he looks to Yuuno and lingers a little longer on her, perhaps taking in the dimensions of her wrists? After a short moment, he clears his throat so that Namaeva can definitely hear him.

"What our esteemed solicitor is saying is that you have pretty much all the freedoms that any Pathfinder has, according to that contract. The framework is to set you up as a Pathfinder, and then, should you achieve Seeker status, you will have completed your indenture, and then get to do as you choose. It should have enough structure that you need not be afraid of the sudden change of station."

He holds his fauchard steady at his side and looks at her. "I expect he will allow you to call him 'Master' until you no longer need to do such, but the apparent intent is for you to grow out of such a need."

There is a shrug, and a tiny sigh. "Implicit in, but not actually stated by, the contract, is that you will be growing into a free person. Does this prospect frighten you?"

Marcellus looks distinctly uncomfortable at being addressed as 'Lord Thrune'. He watches the flying interchanges but seems to not know enough of the subtext to grasp everything in detail.

He pauses a moment to make sure he is speaking accurately in his responses and when he does say the words, they are not overloud, but are distinct and clear. "Lady Henderthane, I am not the ... best contact for you with the ruling House of Cheliax. My influence there is probably sufficiently waned as to, well, I suppose if went back, I would be heard ..." He thought he had what he wanted to say planned, but it wasn't working. "Congratulations on acquiring the esteem of House Thrune."

"I had seen Namaeva as a source of great potential complementary to my own distinctly physical ones. She is not yet fully trained, but I had hoped to hone those potential abilities to great prowess." He shrugs at the current standing in the bidding.

"I see now that the politics are far more intricate than I was aware and I think I need to observe and gain understanding of what is happening here."

Marcellus shrugs. "I grew up with slaves, more than most can imagine. However, when utilized properly, the institution has its benefits for both side." The man seems thoughtfully honest, not someone who quotes emplaced rhetoric and dogma of a church rooted in the very levels of hell.

bluff: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (8) - 2 = 6 Marcellus doesn't look skilled at all in subterfuge or misdirection. He seems to want someone to complement his own impressive martial skills and thinks a spellcaster with specialized skills might fill that role. He was serious about protecting his charge and seems pretty capable in that area, at least physically.

"As to your offer, my hands are indeed safe. However, I suspect that most of those here are also without ill-intent, but I could not guarantee it. I am no longer a rich man, but survive through my efforts in the Society. So, I can promise to put my effort in keeping my charge safe, but the coffers of these others seem deep indeed."

Marcellus just glances to the auctioneer, and shakes his head, slowly.

Marcellus shrugs, and looks off towards the ceiling. His dejection at the direction the proceedings have taken is pretty obvious. Expertly, he turns his fauchard point downward, and moves towards the back of the room, excusing himself from the remainder of the bidding. He does watch, however trying to decipher the motives of the bidders.

Marcellus is a human, of Chelaxian descent. His build is solid, as are those of many fighters, and lean, with the discipline of a monk. His fauchard is wood and steel, and well-enchanted. He has Sleeves of Many Garments, but they aren't changing the appearance of his explorer's outfit. Under the clothes, an observant person might see a hint of silvery chain armor.

Marcellus shrugs at Meridoc's comment. "I have been called eccentric, and more. Since I left Egorian, my life has changed dramatically. The only time I came close to death was at the hands, well, chains, of Kytons, and the prospect of tools to defeat them in the future is something I want to examine further."

Marcellus watches the bidding coolly, and bides his time. He does look the halfling in sackcloth over again, studying her thoroughly.

Know the Enemy: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (20) + 17 = 37

Seemingly satisfied, he turns his attention to the other bidders.

MeriDoc is very familiar from the law offices he runs, in his own and the Paracountess' name. Stories have come from them about his contracual abilities rivaling those of even specialized devils. On the other hand, stories also come of singing soliloquies deep in the bowels of the Archives themselves So the man has a lighter side, too.

Zajic is far less known, though his presence is quite commanding of attention, even bored and buried deep in a book. His attachment to Hell is even more direct than the halfling, with a reputation of ancestors dealing with devils rather too closely.

Finally he speaks up, without a tremor in his voice even though he is probably far outmatched in wealth by the others. "I bid one-thousand pieces of gold."

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (8) + 15 = 23

Marcellus tosses his hair back from his face and studies the displayed halfling a moment and then nods, curtly. "Very well. Though I no longer have access to the funds from my family, I have some of my own moneys set aside. Devote your energies to my cause, and I shall both purchase you, and protect you. You may not have heard due to your recent arrival, but I have something of a reputation for defeating foes and having my teams come back whole."

He steps back, leaning against the wall of the chamber, and studies the other invitees, sharp eyes going from one to the next.

spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

"Hmmm. Burning hands is a very useful spell of the lowest tier for dealing damage to minor creatures, especially those who swarm in mass quantity. Combining this with the ability to make subservient the undead means that I shall likely bid in this auction. I happen to have some capital freed up at the moment. Should I win, what kind of upkeep expenses will I be looking forward to?" Marcellus seems to be mulling over some calculations in his head, idly rocking the fauchard from one hand to the other. He seems completely comfortable in manipulating the long weapon.

sense motive: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (5) + 15 = 20

He reacts to the following response. "Was to make you the subject of his later tests? Well, that turned out badly for him, and created this opportunity for us. And so, again I ask, are you a flight risk? Given that I will not subject you to any dangers that I will not face myself, noting that if I take you to a place with the Undead I would be there to protect you, will you flee from me? Is my investment at risk from that?"

Marcellus watches the proceedings dispassionately, leaning on his fauchard. Tall and muscular, his features might give those familiar with Cheliaxan nobility some pause. His clothing might be worn in places, but it is pressed and neat, and even stylish for Egorian some seasons ago.

He thinks a moment, and then steps forward to ask his questions. "Firstly, why is such a valuable servant in sack-cloth and chains? Are you a flight risk, such that you would need to be bound, whether physically or magically, in the field?" He pauses for a moment to allow the respondent to consider, and prepares to ask another, but then quiets and just waits patiently.

Marcellus raises a brow to the newcomer. "Perhaps you might want to see exactly what the situations might be. Your own pre-Hell existence might just depend on your 'fellow graduates'."

He rests the shorter of his two polearms on the wall, and brushes his hands on the front of his pants. "I don't know about you, but there was something about 'Explore, report, cooperate' involved in my own confirmation. Extolling the ... virtues of the Prince of Darkness is one thing, but undermining your own fellows stinks of the Abyss to me."

Serious thread necromancy here.