Odhran's page

Odhran grumbles to himself as he ambles over to the sad buffet, complaining more for the sake of complaining. At least Janiven seemed somewhat sympathetic to his predicament - he had half-expected to be gutted when they realized he was not supposed to be there. That was the impression Damien (ahem, Mysterio) had given him, anyway. It helps that he is genuinely hungry; his appetite had returned in the absence of sewage and mortal danger.

He grabs a sausage and takes a bite out of it, watching the others in the room with those squinty eyes of his as he eats. It was apparent now that the rumors he had heard were true. There really is a resistance, of sorts. That certainly explained what the others had been doing crawling around in a sewer of all places. But imagine that - he had been hanging out with the good guys all along. Now that's a good one.

Being the 'barbarian' that he is, Odhran takes his time sizing up everyone in the room, taking guesses as to how many of them could handle themselves in a fight, and not so subtly admiring some of the members of the fairer sex. Not taken to being a wallflower, he decides to try striking up some conversation. Might as well find out more about what was going on.

"So, uh, did you all have to take the sewer route? I mean, there's gotta be an easier way to get here, right?"

Odhran stares the woman down for a few seconds more before finally relenting, letting out a snort.

"Odhran, the name's Odhran," he replies, glancing over at the modest offering of food. He is rather hungry. "If you don't like Hellknights, then I guess you must be alright. Still not sure what the heck's goin' on, but I'm not tryin' to start any trouble."

Odhran mouths a question soundlessly before asking it aloud.

"I was up to no good?" he asks incredulously, matching his accuser with a scowl of his own, "Lady, I was just runnin' some errands when those damned Hellknights threw me down into the sewer for no danged reason. Said they'd come back to get me for a proper arrest." He snorts derisively. "As if. Next thing I know Mysterio here popped up, threatenin' to stab me in the kidney if I didn't go with him. So you tell me who was up to no good."

With a grumble, he adds an aside, "Probably late for dinner by now..."

I'm hoping to get nominated for the award for Most Inconsistent Accent Ever.

Also, it took me a while to remember that Odhran is supposed to have no idea what the hell is going on. :P

The smell didn't bother Odhran too much - he was more or less used to it. Being covered in muck on the other hand, he could live without. He strips and scrubs the grime off himself, splashing himself with the cold water which again, was something he was accustomed to. He enters the meeting robed and more than a little confused.

"Hold up. Like, I don't even know these guys," Odhran says to Janiven, gesturing at the others. Now that they were all safe and out of the sewer, what little sense of camaraderie he had felt was wavering. "I just got dropped into the sewer and went along with them. They said somethin' about a cabal and bein' circus freaks, but even I knew that was a buncha bullsh*t, and that's sayin' somethin'. I think I have an inklin' of who you people are, but what exactly do you do?"

Giving this thread a roundhouse kick since it decided to turn invisible on me. :P

Dripping with sewer muck (again), Odhran grunts in reply to Slidell's statement. Gods knew he could use a bath - before he got home, preferably. Assuming that nothing else tried to kill them on their way out.

"Don't 'ave to tell me twice," Odhran agrees with a grimace, amazed by the turn of events. With no one in danger of bleeding to death, he climbs back out of the sewer muck.

"Whatever you're gonna do, better do it quick," Odhran mutters to Slidell grimly, as he tries in vain to plug a bleeding wound.

Heal: 1d20 ⇒ 10

I think Araxus is the one worse off at this point.

Odhran glances side to side, searching for more adversaries. When he finds none, he lowers his blade and exhales deeply, allowing his rage to subside. Fatigue sets in, threatening to knock him on his ass. Unfortunately, given their present circumstances, he did not have the luxury of taking a break. The barbarian wades over toward Araxus, attempting to lend Slidell a hand.

Heal: 1d20 ⇒ 4

"Uh, 'ey, little guy, think you can lend us a hand?" he says to Camris between grit teeth, trying and failing to be useful without getting blood and sewer muck into the conjurer's open wounds.

Odhran looks over his shoulder at the skeleton terrorizing the rear half of the party. He eyes the muck briefly before snorting. "Gonna need another magical bath after this," he remarks as he drops into the raw sewage.

He wades toward the last skeleton before swinging at it with his falchion.

Power Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 3 + 2 = 16
Damage: 2d4 + 7 + 3 ⇒ (2, 1) + 7 + 3 = 13

Whoops. Turns out I've actually been doing more damage than I actually have... I've haven't been multiplying my RAGE +5 Str mod by 1.5. <_<;;;

As the skeletal canine steps forward, Odhran doesn't lose the momentum, following up with another ferocious swing.

Power Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 3 + 2 = 25
Damage: 2d4 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (3, 4) + 7 + 2 = 16
Critical Confirmation: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 3 + 2 = 11 Awww...
Critical Damage: 2d4 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (2, 4) + 7 + 2 = 15

"All right, that's enough o' that, bonehead," Odhran mutters as he lazily dodges the skeleton's strikes. He quickly retaliates with an overhand chop.

Power Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 3 + 1 + 2 = 25
Damage: 2d4 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (2, 2) + 7 + 2 = 13
Critical Confirmation: 1d20 + 3 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 3 + 1 + 2 = 18
Critical Damage: 2d4 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (1, 4) + 7 + 2 = 14

Edit: Whoops forgot my other modifiers. Heh heh heh.

Odhran attacks the skeleton in front of him (A3) once more.

Power Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 3 + 1 + 2 = 8
Damage: 2d4 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (1, 2) + 7 + 2 = 12

How deep is the muck anyway? Poor halflings...

"Friends of yours, Mysterio?" Odhran asks aloud, insistent on using the man's moniker regardless of his companion's slip-up. It was mostly an attempt to allay the bad feeling in his gut. Fear, maybe?

The surprise slash to his leg draws out a brief shout of pain. Gritting his teeth, he draws his falchion. "All right, that does it!"

AC and attack rolls +1 due to Crowd Control, and entering controlled rage (Str +4) as a free action.

Raising his sword high, Odhran attempts to bring it down over the skeleton in front of him.

Falchion Power Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 3 + 1 + 2 = 12
Falchion Damage: 2d4 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (3, 2) + 7 + 2 = 14

*slow clap*

"Gorum's gonads," Odhran grumbles, curling a lip when he sees the moving skeletal hand, "I was just running some damn errands. What did I do to deserve this?"

Initiative: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15

"The two of ya would be great for each otha'," Odhran replies, his expression straight, "Ya both creep the 'ell outta me."

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

When it seems that they have evaded the Hellknights for the time being, Odhran sighs with relief. Nonetheless, he proceeds with caution.

Will take the lead again.

"And what are ya supposin' we do if they head the right way?" Odhran replies with a grimace, "I ain't lookin' to fight the fuzz down here. I'm in enough trouble as is."

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

Frowning profusely, Odhran glances back down at the door, his hand still twitching by the pommel of his sword.

As it so happened, being the first one through the door meant being the last one out. Excepting Mysterio, of course, whom Odhran was all too happy to leave alone with the mysterious spook.

In the sewer, he casts a sidelong glance back toward where they came.

"So, I guess we'd better be gettin' to this cabal of yours."

"Thousands," Odhran mouths soundlessly, utterly baffled by the copious asking price. He had a grand total of seven gold coins to his name. Is this thing for real?

Preferring not to be eaten, thinks on something to tell the mysterious voice.

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

Rumors? What rumors?

"Uh," Odhran starts, scratching the back of his head, "Exactly how much gold are we talkin' here?"

He was feeling awfully conscious about his light gold pouch right about now.

"Just as long as it ain't my soul or somethin'," Odhran mutters as he cautiously steps into the room. His hand hovers over the pommel of his sword, just in case.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22

"I think I hear somethin'..." Odhran remarks with a frown as he peers into the dark room. Squinting wasn't making it any easier to see. "Whisperin' maybe?"

"Might as well give it a shot," Odhran says, evidently volunteering for the job. "If it doesn't open we'll just have to hustle." Without further ado he steps forward and attempts to open the door.

Odhran blinks. "Uh. Thanks. I think."

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17

Probably at the front.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

I don't see nuthin'.

Odhran stays toward the front of the group (behind Amadeo if we are using his eyes), squinting too hard to notice anything substantial.

"It's a pleasure." Odhran shakes Camris' hand almost guiltily, having failed to spot the halfling up till then. He sizes him up as he does, wondering if he is an escaped slave or something of the sort.

Odhran could carry around the goblin gear if anyone wants. He's no stranger to selling useless crap.

"Yeah, yeah," Odhran replies, moving right along. "So, where exactly are ya circus folks headin'?"

Raising a brow at Amadeo's circus story (not that it was particularly unbelievable, coming from him), he gives Zeb a brief pat on the head before answering Araxus. "They tossed me in and then ran off. Seems like they were needed elsewhere. Dunno if they can be bothered to come down here themselves."

Already not knowing what to expect from Mysterio’s compatriots, the first thing that becomes apparent to Odhran is that they are all just as shady as him. Not to mention strange, for that matter. Amadeo in particular catches his eye, his countenance speaking volumes about his heritage; he had never met a devilspawn in person before. The pile of dead goblins is also particularly hard to ignore, though it immediately strikes him as a sign of how dangerous these strangers might be. Their spectrum of introductions however, catches him off guard.

Seem to be some colorful folks down here…

Odhran does not even find the time to deny Slidell the chance to show off; before he can even lift a finger, the coagulated muck covering his body seems to vanish, along with the worst of the smell. With the layer of putrid brown no longer obscuring his form, the state of Odhran’s wardrobe becomes much more apparent. The tall, rugged man wears simple cloth garments colored in earthy tones (or is that just more muck?), that do not entirely conceal his muscular arms and shoulders. A lazily modified set of leather armor covers only the vital spots, and is barely noticeable beneath his clothing. His belt adorned with various armaments – not so much. And if not for the dirt that weighed it down, his long hair might be sticking up.

Are those… flowers I smell? Well, certainly better than some secondhand blankets, I guess.

Stunned at first by the sudden display of magic, he seems to relax somewhat when he realizes exactly what had happened. Begrudgingly admiring the mage’s handiwork, he murmurs his thanks to Slidell. Regardless, his narrowed eyes betray his lingering suspicion. (Or perhaps they just always look that way.)

“Just yellin’ at some Hellknights that were in a hurry,” Odhran finally answers to Araxus, having decided that it wasn’t something particularly worth hiding, “Apparently they thought it’d be more convenient to stash me down here than in some holdin’ cell. Or maybe it was all jus’ a joke to them. Wouldn’t surprise me, either way.

“At any rate, I’m lookin’ to get out of here, and since I trust that you folks aren’t plannin’ on livin’ down here forever, I figured I’d tag along. At least, I’m supposin’ that’s what that Mysterio fellow was suggestin’. Was kinda hard to tell.

“Oh, and the name’s Odhran, by the way.”

So he’s got friends down here… hope he’s not talking about the goblins.

If even possible, Odhran’s eyes narrow more than they already have. He looks at the man’s proffered hand, weighing his options. The Hellknights had said that they would come back for him later, but even with the stench, he was not willing to hold his breath on that one. For all he knew, they expected him to be eaten by something overnight. Bearing that in mind, escape was the only reasonable option. A dangerous prospect, for sure; one that held the risk of getting him into more trouble with the law. Assuming of course, they even remembered the jaywalker’s face.

On the other hand, trusting a suspicious, magical character – one that suggested he might kill him, no less – did not seem like a terribly good idea either. Down in the sewers, his body might never be found. Nonetheless, skulking about on his own also seemed like a wonderful way to get himself killed. He liked to consider himself street smart, but he had no idea what to expect down here.

Anticipating that he is about to make what could be a stupid decision, Odhran spits to the side, expelling more of the foul sewer taste.

“All this talk of you killin’ me ain’t doin’ much to put me at ease, Mysterio,” Odhran starts, finally sheathing his sword. “So you can cool it with the cloak and dagger stuff. I don’t know what this ‘cabal’ you’re talkin’ about is, and I don’t much care. But sure, I’ll come along for now. Worse comes to worse, I suppose having a knife stuck in my back would feel a great deal nicer than bein’ eaten alive.”

Accepting Mysterio’s invitation, Odhran follows the trail of lights, with one particular thought surfacing in his mind.

Ma’s gonna kill me…

Odhran is just seconds away from charging the luminescent apparition when its shape suddenly changes. Suspecting some kind of trickery, he assumes a defensive stance - that is, until he spots Damien.

The filth-covered warrior raises a brow of his own in kind, surprised to see another human within the depths. The purveyor of that light trick, perhaps? The suspicion stands, but as the man speaks, Odhran slowly lowers his blade.

"The sewers ain't the place I expected to meet friendly types," he replies dryly, doing his best to ignore the fashionable muck that covered his form. The smell he could handle, but the sensation was getting bothersome. "But I'll take you up on those blankets, if I can have your name, first."

By now his sword has been lowered, but not sheathed. For all he knew, the strange man could be up to no good.

It was not long before something came along. With a tight grip on his falchion, Odhran narrows his eyes, peering warily at the luminescent figure.

The heck is that?

Odhran brandishes his blade, perhaps only slightly worried. Down in the sewers, he had been expecting rats or bugs or something else of the sort - but certainly not some glowing spook.

"Stay back!" he calls out to the approaching figure, his weapon at the ready. "I'm warning you!"

Ouch. On account of exam week, I'm not sure of whether I'll have time to dedicate to the tavern thread, which is a shame. I don't know if that counts me out or anything, but I'd like to wish the best of luck to everyone!

I forgot that Ultimate Campaign got added in. I'll probably take a drawback; I never have before.

Here's the alias for Delkka. I don't believe I've used anything from outside of the Core Rulebook and APG thus far, so please me know if I've screwed up somewhere.

I believe I've already mentioned it, but my plan is to take the World Serpent totem line of rage powers for their useful effects against outsiders. I figure that it works for a tribe dedicated to hunting down demons.