Maren Azurill's page

Maren sighs. "I mistook you for a reasonable psychopath, Happs, nothing more, though it seems my judgement was premature.", he says, as the rapier flies out of the scabbard with a flash. "It would be a shame to dispose of a perfectly good group of entrepreneurial thugs, however. Finite resource.", he remarks, assuming an elegant Kyonin stance, one foot in front of the other and a hand behind his back. "Gentlemen! When I relieve your leader of his vulgar tongue, I would be happy to accept your surrender!", his voice carries over the encampment.

Initiative: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9 Or not! Could I recommend we all put out initiatives under our profiles, so that the GM can roll - it really speeds up PbP, same for saves, if everyone's alright with it.

"Pay?", asks Maren, his hand resting on the laquered hilt of the rapier. "I am afraid we've no intention of paying anyone. Customary practice is people paying us.", a smirk appears on the elf's face. "However, since it appears pragmatism is a trait of yours that I share, we would be willing to offer a deal." He pauses. "A bit of frontier culture, so to speak."

He paces around. "I would like to extend a challenge to you, Happs. I would duel you for the leadership of your band.", he explains, putting his palms together. "I'm led to believe you've lost some of your men already, while you've no idea how many of us are here. You could choose to attack, and live with the consequences of rash behaviour.", the elf's arm waves over the encampment, where undoubtedly many more fighter hid. "Or, you could even tighten your reputation among your men by showing a fancy city elf who disrespected you in front of them why you should truly lead them." He leans on the cart, fingers dancing on the rapier's hilt. "Well, would you choose to display spine, or are you simply a wretch choosing to hide behind numbers?", he smirks.

Sorry about late post, I've got a lot of work the past couple of days, and until Saturday! Maren will be going in Q24 (between the carriage and the house with the cots.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

Hearing the words from the other side of the pallisade, Maren finishes tying the mules and quickly sprints over the muddy ground to retreat to the main building. Walking through the door, he nods at those already inside. "I've caught that Gormly's friends are behind the pallisade.", he shares, drawing his rapier. Smiling at Johund, he runs a finger along the blade. "I will take that offer, Master Struckland. Hanspur and whoever else chooses to gain us their guidance.", he nods politely. "Would we be proceeding with the challenge to single combat, or have you decided for a more... direct approach?"

"That would be ideal, yes.", nods Maren at Svetlana's suggestion, his face displaying severe annoyance at Gormly's continued existance within his eyesight. "What an absolutely repugnant individual.", he shakes his head, standing up. Smiling at Ysgar, he shakes his head in amusement. "Truly, it is easy to know what motivates horses. Or mules. Speaking of which...", he shrugs. "I'd need to take care of ours.", he sighs, pulling up his hood. And I so hoped for a warm meal before bloodshed. Granted, it's better after., he thinks as he moves outside to take care of Supply and Demand, the two mules tied to the house, as he takes them to the barn.

Maren listens to the story, his upper lip raising in disgust. There is necessary brutality, and there's pointless brutality. He shakes his head, as his hand goes to feel the hilt of his rapier. "Despicable.", he simply says, sitting in a chair and cupping his hands together. Nodding at Luthian, a small smile appears on his face. "Do try to be as precise as possible, please, Mr. Fletcher. The outhouse is probably dirty enough as it is.", he smirks, before his smile widens. "And try to enjoy yourself." I hope some violence might curb his foul mood.

The elf leans back, the fingers of his right hand dancing over the rapier's grip. "As for your idea, Ysgar.", he relays to the half-orc, "I find it poetically appropriate, however we mustn't get ahead of ourselves. I'd try to avoid starting a fight with a force twice our size." Leaping from the chair, his gray eyes glance over the room and the house before looking at Svetlana. "Svetlana, my dear. Could you please get us some of that soup that was promised? I'd be willing to pay, of course.", he asks, the underlying tone of his voice suggesting that it'd be better if she wasn't present for a while.

"Based on the treatises of Mandravius of Lastwall, I see two opportunities here. First one, and the more likely to occur one, would be for us to hold the lines right here in the house. Me and our storm-mooded companion outside could hold the front, and slay as many as we can in a fight of attrition.", he suggests, as his eyes glimmer with insidious intent. "The other suggested approach would be humiliating and challenging Happs to a duel. I'd volunteer to take him on, and ideally his band would follow us afterwards." He looks around, as a long finger shoots in the air. "Of course, as Mandravius preached honourable combat, I personally desire nothing to do with it.", he chuckles. "The Azurill addendum is, as soon as the duel starts, everyone gangs up on him as soon as I draw his attention, and then we use our dear Ratna's peerless ability in persuasion to convince them anyone stupid enough to agree to an honourable duel is, by definition, unfit to lead a gang of their stature."

He finishes with a theatrical bow, as he gestures at the assorted individuals for questions. "Your thoughts on my musings?", he asks.

Stomping inside, tapping his feet outside the door, Maaren enters to a scene he wasn't expecting. His eyes narrow, almost imperceptively, as the short, fat, and all around unpleasant individual makes his statements. So inexperienced. And... disgustingly impolite. Yet, therefore has backup. I wouldn't be so relaxed if six armed individuals walked through my door., a though passes through his head, as he lowers his glance to look at the conversation, giving the woman a polite nod and a smile. "We would greatly appreciate you bringing us warm food, of course."

I could undoubtedly skewer him twice before he raises his sword..., he thinks, as he moves next to Johund. He's as devout as they come but sometimes a little... off. I suppose when you live as short as they do, you need to immerse yourself in faith. Interesting., he notes, as he nods gracefully at the fat man.

"My name's Maren Azurill, travelling chemist, translator, sword for hire, and alliteration aside, allegedly an all-round asset. Pleased to meet you.", he jests crisply, extending a slim, calloused hand. "We're not working for Happs, of course. If you don't mind us asking, however - would he be looking for capable individuals?" The elf's face is that of pure curiosity, which then turns into an entrepreneurial smile. "Seems you've got it good for yourself, is what I'm saying. Power attracts power, and we'd prefer staying next to the fireplace." Living in a rotting shack in the middle of nowhere, hiding from civilisation. Disgusting.

Bluff: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21 I'm assuming that this particular fine gentleman is a bandit, so I'm giving myself the Brigand bonus.

Maren's deep laugh rings loudly as Luthian grins. "It would be better, had we planned to eat them. Would succeed in relaying the message.", he pats the man on his armoured shoulder. "No offense, Luthian. I suppose the weather got me in different way. Can't help but goad.", he explains with a theatrical shrug, tucking his gloves on his belt and rubbing his cold hands.

Shaking his head Felix smiles."Well, am no. Just take your stoic, no not the menacing face. Think about beer and warm food, there it is! We can work with that, don´t you agree Maren. And remember, this can be a first rate chicken farm. And we will need its eggs for the future!"

Nodding, Maren smiles. "Perhaps, perhaps. Put in on a list, and we'll get back to it one day. For now I believe we'll settle for one chicken and something to wash it down with." He taps his lips with a finger, taking a longer look at Felix's face. Hm..., a thought appears in his head, but he shakes it off. Maybe later.

Maren, mostly remaining quiet for the long road, snickers at Ratna's comment. Or their reaction to the deep puddle of mud. "I sincerely doubt that option is on the table.", the elf's deep, highly enunciated Taldane announces, as he extends a gloved hand forward to help Rat out of the mud. "I feel we're all a bit closer to nature than we'd like right now."

Seemingly a citydweller, as one might assume by his fashionable silver-dyed leather coat, courtier's haircut and the almost too fine rapier at his belt, Maren takes the long walk through the mud in stride, despite the mud covering his boots all the way above his thighs, with the occasional smirk as someone shorter than himself stumbles into a mud or... something more organic.

Patting the donkeys on the heads, he trudges through the almost molasses-like mud, he stands next to Luthian, a flawless smile appearing on his face, marked with numerous small scars, the mark of a seasoned duelist. "Now, now, Mr. Fletcher, attitude. Smiles, everyone, smiles."

Bah. Paizo was being wonky all day. :(

I'll see if I can get something up, but I need to leave for work soon.

EDIT: I've picked up the Brigand campaign trait, so I'll take 2 mules complete with saddlebags. That would probably settle us for any loot, since those two can carry a LOT. I might need Luthian's help with them occasionally, as he's the only one with Handle Animal.

Him. Looking at the characters, I noticed there are no full BaB submissions. I never had my eye set on Maren's class, so I might consider remaining pure swashbuckler. I'll still be able to shore up the knowledge department, and be a heavily social character, so let me know what you think?

Hello, fellow tyrannically-bent individuals! I'm on my phone at the moment, so I'll be brief. I'm looking forward to this, as I haven't sunk my teeth in vile plots in a while.

Maren will be inherently skills based after this level, as he'll be an investigator, with a heavy social bent.

Something Wicked is running one of the best PbP games I've ever be a part of, so even if there is conflict, it'd be tasteful and enjoyable to all involved.

The Lion Cleric here, with my diabolically plotting Swashbuckler. The backstory is a far mile from what I'd consider my finest work, but I hope it relays the concept of the character. I've had to rush it, since work's been a bit hard this couple of days.

One diabolical shadow advisor, reporting for duty!