Mavarion's page

Oh yeah, body recovery. I'll pay 5 PP for the rescue, and another 16 for a resurrection.

My e-mail is teddyberman@gmail.com.

Regardless of the outcome, thanks for the game!

Sleight of Hand, boon and vanity bonuses: 1d20 + 24 ⇒ (20) + 24 = 44

Not sure what to make of it.

No boons that'd help here, that I can think of. I'll do a better check in the morning.

Despite his saves, Mavarion has fallen victim to a lot of save or suck - and a coup de gras.

Mavarion stands idle in the air, watching the harpy intently.

If 'the best I can' includes flight, I'll go float the vent and right up the the harpy. Otherwise I guess I'll scrabble at the exit. Put a red X for where I'd be in case of the former.

Will: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11

Mavarion, a dwarf with remarkable resolve despite his strange tendencies, continues acting his role of one part comic relief, another part killing machine easily aimed in the wrong direction.

Ah, didn't realize that happened. In that case I'll try for the now somewhat visible on in there.

Oh boy!

Mavarion, free and annoyed, tries to move in a manner guarded from all sides against invisible attack.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (12) + 19 = 31

He then hurls some of the former campfire at the closest harpy he can see.

Extended Blast vs. Green: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (14) + 17 = 31
Damage: 6d6 + 17 ⇒ (5, 3, 6, 6, 2, 3) + 17 = 42

I'm still captivated this round, right?

"Hey," Mavarion says half-heartedly. He almost makes an idle turn, stopped by the lack of actual hurt and his being occupied.

Will: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10

Mavarion is about to say something, presumably mocking the giants' combat prowess, before he lands and starts walking away without a word.

Mavarion keeps on rising. "Annoyingly tall," he says, picking up the cauldron for another strike.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (15) + 19 = 34

I'll try moving 30 feet up or to the ceiling. That was 50 feet, I think?

Extended Bowling Blast vs. Green: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (19) + 17 = 36
Damage: 6d6 + 17 ⇒ (3, 2, 1, 1, 1, 5) + 17 = 30
Trip: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (6) + 13 = 19

Mavarion, already (hopefully) out of reach, seizes the cauldron with an ethereal hand and hurls it. "Soup's on!"

I'd like to start 30 feet above the ground, if possible. The ceiling allows for it if nothing else.

Extended Bowling Blast vs. Black: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (11) + 17 = 28
Damage: 6d6 + 17 ⇒ (6, 6, 5, 6, 3, 3) + 17 = 46
Trip: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (7) + 13 = 20

Mavarion zips back to deliver the news. "Five giants, one man. He's likely slated for cooking or eating raw. Now seems a good time to move in."

Mavarion shows his face for a few seconds. "I'm going in, feel free to follow along. I won't start anything until everyone wants to and is ready." With that, he floats inside under cover of invisibility, searching for the source of the disturbance.

Stealth, Bonus: 1d20 + 19 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 19 + 10 = 32

Mavarion idly floats up the stairs, dropping in and out of visibility and commenting on the ease of it all. At the landing, he stays unseen in case the situation gets nasty. "Understand me, giant? I can fix you, especially if you have anything useful to give or say. But know we could take you on, help or no.

"...Although maybe we should leave her for now and follow the screaming first," his voice adds as an afterthought.

Assuming Mavarion is healed back to consciousness:

Mavarion stumbles up, ruffled. "Damn giants. Woulda prepared better, it's been a while since I've been in a worthwhile scrap."

He starts piecing himself together as the force shield also begins to reform, then disappears from sight. "Don't worry, I haven't bailed yet. Just remembering to be cautious is all," he says, voice fading a bit as he rises.

"Nice animal that came from, probably," his voice come from nowhere as the horn is looked over. "Do they have big beasts around here?"

Kinetic Healer: 6d6 + 17 ⇒ (3, 3, 3, 1, 1, 1) + 17 = 29
Kinetic Healer: 6d6 + 17 ⇒ (1, 6, 3, 1, 3, 4) + 17 = 35

Using both points of burn from my Internal Buffer.

Completely forgot how I do with this character. I'll now be moving around under Telekinetic Invisibility and Wings of Air, around 10 feet above ground.

Yeah, I'm down. The force ward took 31 of the damage, but I still had enough nonlethal. Guess I wasn't supposed to test for Combat Reflexes that way. Would've gone invisible next turn.

A thick, transparent shell shaped just like Mavarion flares into sight just as he is struck, only to shatter at the impact. "Oh, ow," he chuckles, trying to move back and into the air.

Acrobatics to Tumble: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (2) + 19 = 21

Assuming that fails. I guess I won't be taking to the sky just yet.

As long as he still stands, the dwarf motions at a carcass. It flings itself at the closer giant's legs. "Wanted to use a wagon, but we should look through those."

Bowling Telekinetic Blast, PBS: 1d20 + 17 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 17 + 1 = 25
Damage: 6d6 + 17 + 1 ⇒ (2, 1, 2, 5, 6, 5) + 17 + 1 = 39
Trip: 1d20 + 13 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 13 + 1 = 20

"Ah, good, you know this sort of work. So here's one: Does that mean you can try again if problems arise, or the scroll's spent? Or do we just kiss our beards goodbye?"

"Yeah, there's a history there," Mavarion comments lightly. "But my nose isn't permanently stuck to a history book. I'm more prone to be careful of those I've personally slighted.

"...Which happens to include giants, among most every other race I can name. And they'll not like me anyway, as you say."

No further questions here.

"Sounds more up to my speed than usual," Mavarion says, pondering. "Looking for something big, slaughtering giants along the way. And a witch, you say, friend?" The dwarf fishes several small objects from his robe and juggles them idly about. "I take it the giant problem wasn't always so dire? Obviously there, sure, but not as brazen?"

Shortly after a Pathfinder enters, the air peels back to reveal another, as if hiding under an invisible blanket. This dwarf has a scarred, ruddy face only a mother could love, and a well-paid one at that. Beyond that, almost all of his body is obscured by a baggy priest's robe, and the dark garb underneath. It is adorned with stylized keys of Abadar, and a fair few bloodstains. Even so, he looks better built than the average dwarf, with heavy muscles. Several crossbows and belt pouches rest around the belt cinching up the garment.

"Good to meetcha, Sir," he drawls, his voice like extremely antisocial gravel. "I'm called Mavarion, or Mav fer short. A holy hand of Abadar, an' solver of whatever problem can be paid to fix."

Good to be here!

Player Name: Crunch
Character Name: Mavarion
PFS ID: 150618-34
Faction: Grand Lodge
Progression: Normal

Chronicle looks good, thanks aplenty for running!

"Not quite sure, I ain't so magic'ly inclined," Mav replies when asked for a report. "A sweet-talkin' plant thing took over Nik here's mind? And the others from th' camp. I also think we got taken somewheres awry by Hao Jin's carpet." He turns to the others for further details.

Mavarion shakes his head wildly. "That mighta felt good, that peaceful feeling. If reality didn't jus' set back in so quick. Where's a mountain I can toss?"

Now less calm, Mav still sees a necessity in keeping Periel on this side of the Boneyard. While he doesn't look too bad, wouldn't want a repeat of the Crocodile Incident.

Kinetic Healer: 6d6 + 17 ⇒ (6, 3, 4, 2, 5, 2) + 17 = 39

Using my Internal Buffer again, which is now empty.

Mavarion, increasingly random killing machine, stands idle. He feels to peaceful for killing at the moment, so he swoops behind Periel and calls some severed pieces of the paladin back to him.

Kinetic Healer: 6d6 + 17 ⇒ (3, 5, 4, 5, 6, 4) + 17 = 44

Moving to Periel and healing him up. I'll use my Internal Buffer for the burn.

"Stay put n' shut up, Nikolai; we'll sort this out." Mavarion calls forth another raucous clap of energy and flings more detritus.

Maximized Extended TK Blast vs. Darcassan: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (8) + 17 = 25
53 damage on a hit.

Mavarion draws in additional power, creating quite the spectacle. He then hurls more plant life at the plant life.

Maximized TK Blast, PBS vs. Kapre: 1d20 + 17 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 17 + 1 = 33
54 damage on a hit.

Impaired, but not at what he does best, Mavarion swoops forward and hurls a twig at the plant. Covered in an unseen shell of aether, it becomes an incredibly powerful projectile.

TK Blast, PBS: 1d20 + 17 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 17 + 1 = 37
Damage, PBS (Slashing): 6d6 + 17 + 1 ⇒ (6, 2, 1, 3, 5, 6) + 17 + 1 = 41

"And here I was thinkin' I'd hafta stand here like an idiot while they got talked down," Mavarion chuckles, mostly to himself. "Good to see there's still use for me."

Moved you!

"Someone could drop a mountain on th' Lodge," Mavarion responds immediately. "But I - I mean they - won't do that. So all's good."

Diplomacy Aid: 1d20 - 3 ⇒ (12) - 3 = 9

"Buildin' the Lodge, of course," Mavarion says, dropping his cloak. "The Ten don't like me too much, and while I prefer destruction on th' same scale, I'm quite good at creation too. Got any five-ton blocks ye need lifted?"

"This the right place?" Mavarion asks, visible for a few moments before vanishing once more. "Too hot for my tastes. But it must be worse for a delicate elf. This'll help ya deal, and maybe quiet your bellyachin'."

Zeno, you have the lowest Fort save, so have some Basic Aerokinesis. +2 on saves versus heat, plus breath weapons and gases.

"Time ta get this done with!" Mavarion grins.

A bit confused, Mavarion finally manages to see through the illusion, but seems less worried about the demon lord's mark. "I've fought insanity-inducin' spawns of outsiders determined to eat reality more'n you got...heads, I guess, only did it twice. Ain't fussed, though, if we see him we'll just throw mountains at him 'til he dies."

Alerted by Bambang, Mavarion also swoops in to investigate.

(If necessary) Will, Hardy, Alerted: 1d20 + 8 + 5 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 8 + 5 + 4 = 18

Perception: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (3) + 17 = 20

Nor can he.

"Always more masterin' to be done," Mav chuckles. "Easier done on the job than in me free time, mind."

His vaguely roving eyes don't pick anything up either.

High enough in the air to (hopefully) escape the ooze's reach, Mav hucks another pebble at it.

Emp. Max. TK Blast, PBS: 1d20 + 17 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 17 + 1 = 31
6d6 ⇒ (1, 2, 3, 6, 2, 4) = 18
71 damage total.

Mavarion reappears, grinning. As soon as the others are ready, the dwarf takes to the air and hurls a pebble with the force of several ballistae.

"Seems the type to wait until we come to it, before striking," Mav notes. "Least that's how most oozes are. What say we start by pummeling it from a distance?"

"That slab'll fall on anyone who gets to close. S'all I know. Once we're done here maybe I'll huck a few rocks at it."

"Someone saved me ten seconds," Mavarion's voice chuckles as it proceeds into the cave. "Now, what have we here...?"

Perception: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (11) + 17 = 28

"Bears," Mav scoffs. "I've thrown bears farther then...well, I wasn't measurin' at the time. Even some special one, we'll feed it its own claws."

"Does this mean we're goin' to this Chesed place?" Mavarion's voice queries, sounding the tiniest bit nervous but more so aggravated by the idea. "I ain't so good around dwarves, they don't like me nor I them. Good for us they needn't know I'm around."

"Away go," Mav concurs as he vanishes once again. "Don't worry, I'm still here. Haven't bailed on ya yet."

Survival (untrained): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

"Five, ye say?" Mavarion lazily floats over the site without paying it much mind. "Looks more like dozens. They goin' in about the same direction?"

"Now, what was that all about?" Mav mutters. Formerly unseen, there is now a thin force barrier covering the dwarf's body, sporting a few translucent cracks. These begin to patch themselves up as the party does. "I can heal too, big time, but it's better fer emergencies. Patches you up, but wears you or I out."