Morgan Ironskin's page

I agree with Barbarianna. Thank you for letting us know.

Morgan focuses on her new opponent, noting its potential weak points and where the most painful spot would be to strike it in. She winds up, her face split into a wide grin, and goes for a gutshot.

vs. Jinkin (Studied Target): 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 4 + 1 = 13
Damage (Studied Target): 2d6 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (1, 1) + 3 + 1 = 6

Roaring, Morgan runs into battle... only to find that her foes were tiny and pathetic. Perhaps they would be tougher than they look. As she hops over the tripwire, bringing her hammer to bear, she prepares to destroy the creature, examining it for weak points, its stance, and its weaponry.

Move into battle, studied target.

Morgan nods, impressed with Era's tactical awareness. For someone who appeared to be nearly as much owl as her familiar, she did seem to know what she was talking about. "The wizard is right," she adds. "Let us continue."

Morgan nods. "You are right," she says, fiddling with the handle of her bone hammer. "Let's see if these 'gremlins' pose a real threat."

Morgan nods seriously, pleased at the outcome. "A fair trade," she says. "We won't kill you, and you reward us with replacement foes to kill."

These people were halfway towards earning her respect. They lived in a horrible, inhospitable environment, projected strength, and survived. If only they would stop whining about it.

Morgan grins. "I'm just here to do a job. This one's right. It seems the town above depends on something called a 'Torch', which comes from down here and which no longer works."

I just realized I'm unclear on what these things look like. Do they have normal-looking faces?

Morgan sneers right back at the nameless male who answers him. "I don't think you want to test my willingness for battle, when it is your lives that are on the line," she says. "But what I am actually trying to answer is what we have to gain b separating. As far as I can see, all it does it lower our leverage. I refuse."

Morgan also has both Bluff and Intimidate trained, and 15 Cha so she's a decent face on her own.

Morgan grunts with disappointment. Maybe there would be no fighting these creatures after all. Honestly, this cave was a big disappointment so far. Just one strange frog-creature which wasn't very dangerous and which ended up being terribly boring to fight. She throws her hammer up onto her shoulder. "We're speaking at your request, but you want us to divide ourselves and leave ourselves vulnerable?" she says, frowning. "I don't think that's how negotiations work. What do we want from this, exactly?"

Morgan grins. She always appreciated running into foes that wouldn't hesitate to kill her. "Show yourselves!" she calls out, "Or do you hesitate to do that, but not to kill us?"

"I could throw a rock and see who comes out," suggests Morgan.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

"Hm," says Morgan, looking down into the cavern. Is there another exit from this cavern? She looks. Does this cavern look lived-in? Perhaps there are gnawed bones or clothes lying around. Perhaps there is a warm cooking fire.

While the rest of the group checks out these weird "silverdisks", Morgan heads down the right passage, trying her best to be quiet.

Stealth: 1d20 + 6 - 1 ⇒ (18) + 6 - 1 = 23

Whoops! I got busy for a bit and, for some reason, wasn't able to get into Paizo. I think Google Chrome's just been blocked.

With the group rejoining her in the next, empty room, Morgan indicates the next pair of passages. "You all can look at this stuff. Which way should I go first?"

Seems like mechanics are moot when Morgan is technically the most willing to do it.

"Alright," says Morgan. "I'll go ahead. I'll try my best to be quiet, and I'll come back if I see anything."

With that, she creeps forward. She wants to get past the range of darkvision, stick behind corners, and do her best to stay out of sight and mind.

Stealth (ACP): 1d20 + 6 - 1 ⇒ (2) + 6 - 1 = 7
Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9

Morgan has +6 stealth, so... maybe? She's no 18 Dex rogue.

"Thankfully, yes." replies Morgan, standing up as well and collecting her weapons. "I am ready to move on."

"Yes, small one," says Morgan, after having quietly and politely listened to his story. "That was much nicer than the myths of my people."

"For the record - I agree with the others. We should not suffer an enemy to live. It would have killed us all had we given it the chance. Why should we reward those efforts with mercy?"

"If you show mercy to those who would do harm unto you, it shows that you are weak. You will be taken advantage of, for everyone will see that you do not defend yourself and those under your wing."

Morgan growls. "It's shameful to be so crippled by such a pest," she says, spitting down in the general vicinity of the dead blindheim. "I suppose all we can do is sit and wait then, eh?" At that, she just sits down right where she was standing, legs crossed and back straight. "Do any of you have a funny story to tell? I want to be entertained."

I decided to check and this one doesn't say anything about being immune for 24 hours. Not sure how we're supposed to avoid all becoming blind. this one does, but the first is the paizo version and the second is from Necromancer Games' Tome of Horrors.

Fort: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Now that she's engaged with the creature, Morgan is too close to the blinding light to avoid being fully blinded. She lashes out in a (literally) blind rage with her claws and teeth, knowing that the creature was assuredly right next to her.

Concealment (Claw 1): 1d100 ⇒ 64 Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
Concealment (Claw 2): 1d100 ⇒ 27
Concealment (Bite): 1d100 ⇒ 3

Fort: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17

With the wolf in melee combat, the atlatl becomes an ineffective means of injuring their opponent. Though Morgan's eyes burn with the pain of the blindheim's eyebeams, she snarls with pleasure and bounds into combat against it, her claws extending to a length of 6" as she raises an arm and brings it down towards the monster.

Claw vs. Blindheim (Charge): 1d20 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 4 + 2 = 26 Damage: 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
Crit Confirm: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15 Crit Damage: 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6

Morgan steps forward so that the wolf and gnome don't stand in front of her. She drops her hammer, pulling her atlatl from a second sling on her hip. Fitting a dart into the appropriate space, she whips the weapon at the creature, hopefully sending a dart flying straight into its hide.

Altatl: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4 Damage?: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

Unfortunately, this dart just goes straight down into the ground.

Morgan doesn't have a lot of practice with this weapon.

Morgan pulls out her spiked bone hammer and steps up beside Anna. Taking a deep breath, she lets out a formless savage scream, knowing that any mere beast will likely run from such a display.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

Spellcraft Aid: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

Morgan uncorks one of the vials and sniffs it. "I recognize this," she says. "It's a cure potion."

Knowledge (religion): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

"But not this," she adds, pointing to the medallion. "I guess we don't have that god where I come from."

Alright - Morgan has no use for torches or an iron pot right now. Can she have left them back at her lodging?

Morgan grins. "Good," she says.

Morgan starts to forge her way into the pool, but then stops herself. Whatever had killed this one may still be around here. Perhaps it was an aquatic predator.

If it was not, that would mean whoever had killed this thing had dumped it in the water. Morgan squints. There didn't appear to be a way out. "I think this one drowned," she says, pointing at the body.

"Is this one of the people you thought might come here?" says Morgan, poking the corpse. "Don't worry about my weapon," she adds, slinging her weapon. "I am a weapon."

After asking her questions, Morgan forges farther ahead.

"Dead body," mutters Morgan, before squeezing into the passage up ahead to check it out.

Morgan shakes her hair free of the corrupted water as she emerges into the small underground cavern. She pulls her bonecarved hammer free from its sling and waits for the strange large-eyed bird to dry and clean everybody off. Bending down towards the tracks, she inhales deeply, trying to determine if any magic-users might have passed by recently.

Survival (hag sense): 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 3 + 1 = 7

Unfortunately, there are no real traces nearby, so she has no scents to go on.

As the conversation moves on to moving forward, Morgan moves to the forefront of the group. As a hunter and warrior, she is the most suited to her rightful place at the forefront of the group. Putting a clawed finger to her mouth to indicate quiet, she creeps ahead into the next chamber.

Stealth: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

Morgan is melee and has Stealth trained. I'll go first.

Swim (Armor Check): 1d20 + 3 - 1 ⇒ (16) + 3 - 1 = 18
Fort: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

Morgan, possessing of both great trust in magic and a fortitude borne from a childhood in an environment inimical to life, has absolutely no problem accepting the spell, diving into the water, and ignoring the stomach-churning sensation of inhaling poisonous water.

With a toothy grin, Morgan shakes the hand of this priest-friend of her new friends. "I'm Morgan," she says. She wonders about what kind of man he is, as she contemplates his strange garb and the mask he bears. She recognizes it. There was an identical mask back in the "temple" they had visited (though it resembled a workshop more than a temple). She points to it with a clawed finger. "What's that?" she asks.

Morgan rolls her eyes. "Next time, I'll defeat your enemies just enough for you, then."

Morgan shakes her head. "It wasn't a little girl," she says. "And even scared, disorganized things can be dangerous. Even things that look like little girls can be dangerous."

Morgan chuckles, putting her hammer up onto her shoulder to admire her handiwork. "A foe easily crushed," she boasts. He thrusts a meaty hand out towards the young woman. "I'm Morgan," she says, "I'm understanding that you have some kind of metal monster problem underground?"

"I'm here to fix that."

Morgan is definitely the type to charge thoughtlessly into battle! She roars, raising her earthbreaker over her head and dashes at the strange metal beast destroying the house. "Die, chrome monster!" she shouts.

Attack (Charge, Robot Slayer): 1d20 + 4 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 4 + 2 + 1 = 14 Damage: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (4, 4) + 3 = 11

Why not split the difference and Freebooter Ranger with VMC sorcerer (elemental (water))?

"Do you think foul play?" asks Morgan, pulling out her bone hammer as she follows the little rat-person.

Morgan cracks her knuckles, grinning. "These skulks will know the taste of my hammer," she says, "And will regret opposing us should they choose a path of violence."

Morgan grins when the woman says yes, but it falters when she says she doesn't know how to fight. "Great, so we have six. Who do we go to to get this job?"

Morgan wrinkles her nose as they approach the junk pile. "Why," she mutters, "Does this town have a giant trash pile? It's disgusting."

Morgan grins as the company grows, and out of nowhere, work and enemies and friends are all acquired at once. Truly, she must be blessed with good fortune to have so many good things happen at once. She sizes up their new companions - the rat, the gnome, and the Kellid.

"Right you are," she says, agreeing with Anna. She reaches out to clasp the human's hand firmly, adding, "To show your power to your enemies, to crush them beneath your feet, is the motivation that drives us. And those not strong enough don't deserve life anyhow."

Strength Check: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

I should probably clarify that Morgan looks like a full-blooded orc more than she looks like a half-orc.

Morgan shakes her head. "Towns have reasons for their names?" she says through a mouthful of lamb. "Didn't know that." She shrugs. "So, people are missing? Great, who do I talk to about that? Sounds like a good first job."

Morgan shrugs. "I know nothing of Torch's trouble. I arrived today, and have never been here before," she says. "As for other skills... I know something of magic, and can smell its lingering traces easily." She grins, pushing out her long tusks, "and I bite worse than I bark," she adds.

She turns down to the small rat-person and then back up to the deformed woman. "And who are you, small one? And you, masked woman? I am Morgan, of..." she struggles to think of something to say other than "the Boneshaker tribe", but it's too late. "...of nothing," she adds lamely.

Morgan sits a bit back. She didn't have need of a doctor? Strange. Maybe she had a birth defect, then. She moves to sit closer to Fal, taking her plate of lamb and her ale. When asked about her skillset, she just pats her bicep, totally visible because of her sleeveless shirt and armor. "I'm a fighter," she says. She beckons at the random who had told her off a moment ago. "How come he says the work will do no good? Surely someone has a score to settle but hasn't the muscles to do it. Surely there are beasts that need slaying."

Morgan squints into the back of the room, looking for the source of the voice. Morgan shakes her head and waves a hand negatively, shoving a drumstick into her mouth as she does so. "Nah, m' here for work! You know of any?" She had no idea what a Torch might be (besides the handheld wooden device used to cast light) but she figured that whoever this woman was, she must be horrifically disfigured to cover her face like that. "Maybe your doctor can put me in touch with some people looking for revenge or something?" she suggests.

Morgan strides into the troubled town with all of the bluster that an inheritor of orcish arrogance can manage. Her heavy steps and long gait take her through the town's roads quickly, allowing her to absorb Torch's contents in a matter of hours. Her grin is wide with every strange new sight. She had never seen anywhere so wondrous! A town inhabited by an industrious, hard-working people, filled with wonders both alchemical and mechanical, and surrounded for miles on all sides by the most fertile, verdant land she had ever seen. It's a perplexing sight that the streets aren't filled with victory orgies and drunken revelry, for these people were more successful than hers had ever hoped to become. Instead, every street and storefront was filled with frowning face after frowning face, some rubbing their heads and grimacing with pain, and others sadly counting coppers. Sweat drips from the foreheads of people desperately pounding at steel as they try to keep up with their required quota of production even as Morgan stands nearby, ogling at their prowess with the hammer and anvil.

When Morgan sets her pack and hammer down at her bunk in the town's boarding house, surprise plainly shows on her face, although she has no one to express it to. Shrugging, she leaves her heaviest things back at the bunk before heading to the Copper Coin, a tavern that she'd seen has fairly okay prices.

Though she only has a handful of silvers, Morgan is absolutely famished and gladly slams down a few of them for an ale and a plate of meat, and as she's served food, she drops her food down on a table next to a likely-looking group of people. Her smile is charming, although also intimidating due to the jutting tusks, and she loudly declares, "So what's up everyone's butts around here? This town seems great, but you're all so grumpy!"

I also did the invisi-dot. I believe we're waiting on Mahorfeus to give his permission to let us actually post for real.

I see Morgan evolving to Good, but right now she is starting at True Neutral, because I don't see her being concerned with moral matters at all for the moment. Generally, my opinion about alignment is that unless you have something specific you want, you should be True Neutral.

Sage familiars are pretty cool, go for it, especially if Cruodh might not be that intelligent himself.

I'm ready! Are you ready?

Wrong! Era is around.

Morgan is going tanky. I'll be picking up Fast Healer and fast healing from spelleater bloodrager, as well as the Stalwart feat line later on. Her spells will all be self-buffs.