Pari's page

Daytime Action: Sneak

Repair work is fine for Pari - she gets some time to sit and even take off her peg leg for a bit, let her stump breathe for a while. Seeing that she's working along side someone else, she doesn't see the harm in socializing with Quinn.

"So, were you pressed into service as well, then?" She asks as she sews up a torn sail. "I don't mind it as much as I think I should. Well, so long as I'm not in the bilges. And I'd very much like the opportunity to take a swim and possibly get the stench off," She sighs.

After a while, Pari decides to politely excuse herself to go and take a look around the ship for a few brief minutes. Places like this had a few things tucked into their corners people could forget about - things that she could use, like proper armor.

Sailor check: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10
Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20

Pari heads upstairs, humming quietly to herself as she gives one last look at the pirates who'd bothered them. They had obviously been attempting to cause them trouble there. For what reason, that was something she wanted to know.

Once on deck, the peg legged woman waits to see what her duties are today - hopefully, not working in the bilge.

Pari just stares at the closest pirate in her way, and smiles at him.

"Run," She whispers, projecting magical fear into their mind, as she walks upstairs.

Cause Fear, DC 14 Will Save negates.

Rosie Cusswell. And Drinking her Rum, as with a Fort save of +5, she can't get addicted.

Fort Save: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Cha bonus: 1d4 ⇒ 4
Fatigue rate: 1d8 ⇒ 8
Con Damage: 1d3 ⇒ 3

Wow. That boosts Pari's Diplomacy result to 26, for the extra Cha.

Still here - posted Pari's nighttime action waaaaaay back, the post's still there if you'll accept it.

Nighttime actions: Influence!

As exhausting and disgusting at the day's job had been, Pari is not one to be inactive despite that. While she doesn't have the energy for gambling or dancing, she does have one good thing going for her - the ability to make friends.

So she looks for her opportunity when she sees it, finding someone who's nursing some rather bad bruises, cuts and scrapes, and attending to their side. She was able to wash herself off a little thanks to creating some fresh water down below, and her shirt clings suggestively to her curves.

"You look awful, now...let Peg-Leg Pari take good care of you," She comments, praying to her goddess and mending whomever she's targeted.

Diplomacy (+1 if they could be attracted to her): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

Pari hardly feels the insult about her stump - she's lived with it for nearly two decades now, and has received far worse descriptions. "To be fair, I told him I would be better in the kitchen," She comments, wincing at the foul stench of the brackish waters. "But apparently the first mate doesn't like me for some reason."

She tries to be upbeat about all of this - yes, it's a dirty and filthy job, staining her linen shirt and making it stick to her curves. She glances over at the man, thinking for a moment. "You look beaten up...I can take care of that..."

Sliding up to him, she slips her holy symbol out where it was tucked away in her boot, holding onto the spiral as she concentrated, letting off a burst of positive energy to heal his injuries.

Channel Energy (Heal) 1/5: 1d6 ⇒ 6

"Feel better?" She asks him with a smile. "My name is Parivesa Alohawahu...but I prefer to be just called Pari."

Strength Check - Man the Bilges: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (2) - 1 = 1 Not happening.

Con Check: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

Perception Check: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11

Pari was moderately unamused. Considering that she'd been overlooked to assist the chef, even after volunteering first, then stuck doing a job, and doing it very badly. Exhausted and dirty, she decided to go ahead and look around, seeing if she couldn't find her coat - it had to be somewhere on the vessel. Perhaps even her prized pearl earrings.

Sneak for Pari, not Shirk. Let's roll high here.

Stealth: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

So close!

Pari will sneak around the ship after doing her job. Will she need a Stealth check or otherwise? She'll be looking for her coat.

Pari shrugs her shoulders, the woman glancing around at the rest of the people there. "I happen to be familiar with a kitchen," She announces to Plugg. "If you need someone to help make the food taste well, I would be happy enough to assist." I know I've purified my fair share of spoiled rations, at least.

The woman listens quietly as she's told exactly what she's already figured out for herself. Being not her first run in with pirates, the woman simply holds out her peg leg to Mr. Plugg.

"Begging your pardon, but as you can tell, climbing is not an activity to which I am capable," She states. "I'll do my best, but..." The tanned woman shrugs, hobbling over at a slow pace and grabbing onto the rigging, attempting the climb - 'attempt' being the key word.

Taking 10 on all Climb checks, which gives her a 9. She'll also bluff for the lack of skill, but I'm hoping the peg leg gives her a circumstance bonus.

Bluff (+1 if Mr. Plugg could be attracted to her): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21

Pari groans softly, her head throbbing with a dull ache she's not sure how to deal with immediately. The tanned woman flinches as the crack of the cat o' nine tails makes her swiftly alert, blinking several times to adjust to the bright beam of light.

Reaching over and patting herself down, she's mildly upset about her missing coat, the linen shirt clinging to her upper body from sweat. She's at least sure that nothing untoward happened to her, aside from the obvious. Her hand brushes over the silver spiral, relieved that survived at least. Though it seems that her fortunes otherwise aren't looking well.

"Well, I suppose I should drink from my own flask from now on..." She sighs. Another curve in the spiral of her life has approached her today. She just hoped it would not be her last. Pushing against the wall, the one-legged cleric's peg leg clunks audibly against the floor, as she files out, not wishing for any lashes or beatings with saps.

"...you should all rise up now..." She urges the others, putting the pieces together in her head as she walks up to the main deck, touching her ears and wincing at the slight tears in her piercings. If she found out who took her precious earrings, she'd toss them overboard and let her matron judge them.

Just checking in. Say, can Pari keep one item hidden in her peg leg?

*blink blink* Wow. I'm honestly surprised I've gotten in this. Pleasantly so, though. Thank you for the opportunity!

"My name? Parivesa Alohawahu," She replies to him, pausing as she wrinkles her nose at the barbarian, taking a seat and crowding the already overcrowded table. She'd invited just a couple of people, but now there was more than half a dozen. Pari was starting to feel out of her comfort zone.

"If you'll excuse me, I think that this table's already out of room," She states, standing up on her wooden leg and reaching out to grab the new bottle of rum. Walking away and stumbling a bit, her balance off from the drink, she uncorks the new beverage and takes a healthy swig, before heading over to the stage and smiling at the gnome singer, before singing along with her.

"What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
What shall we do with a drunken sailor,
Early in the morning?

Scrape the hair off his chest with a hoop-iron razor,
Scrape the hair off his chest with a hoop-iron razor,
Scrape the hair off his chest with a hoop-iron razor,
Early in the morning.

Give 'im a taste of the bosun's rope-end,
Give 'im a taste of the bosun's rope-end,
Give 'im a taste of the bosun's rope-end,
Early in the morning!

Tie him to the taffrail when she's yardarm under,
Tie him to the taffrail when she's yardarm under,
Tie him to the taffrail when she's yardarm under,
Early in the morning..."

Perform Sing: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19

Pari is surprised to find that her quiet little table is getting vastly crowded, frowning at her half drunken bottle of rum and the few cups left there. She takes another gulp directly from it, smirking a bit at Reinald.

"Maybe some of us want to drop to the floor - did you think of that?" The cleric asked, already flush from the few drinks she had consumed. "You should loosen yourself up a little - here, finish this bottle, and I'll pay for the next one!" She tells him, handing it over.

"Delighted to make you acquaintance," The woman tells her, pouring her a drink of rum and sliding it over the table. She glances over at her feet up on the surface, before imitating her, one boot and one wooden peg put up.

"Parivesa Alohawahu. Devotee to my lady Pharasma. You say that you're a marine?" She asks her, playing with the silver spiral hanging from her neck. "Dangerous profession. But no more than any sailor," Pari comments, taking a swig from the rum bottle directly, wincing and shaking her head, her face starting to get flushed.

The cleric's eyes drift down to the woman's hands, wondering why she's wearing gloves. "So you're a bowman as well? I trust that you're a decent shot," She tells her, smiling easily.

The coated woman sets herself down in her seat at the empty table, putting her bottle and cup down on it as she watches the bar. The darkly tanned woman pours another drink as the halfling first loses his little wrestling match, before pattering over to her. She sips quietly as the little man apologizes, before replying to him.

"Your path may wind towards vastly different places, but you'd do right to remember that everyone all ends up at the same crossroads. Try to make sure your deeds outweigh your misdeeds, and perhaps you'll be fine when that time comes. Thank you for the apology," Pari tells him as he sets off, before taking a look at some of the newcomers.

The elven woman with her braided hair, and the stuffy Taldan caught her eye the most, the dark haired woman raising her bottle of rum at them, inviting them from across the room to share a drink with her. "Come now, don't be afraid of a fellow sailor..."

Pari watches the rude little halfling as he leaves and goes up to the tough looking pirate. "...for someone who says he doesn't like the taste of leather he keeps putting that boot in his mouth. Either that, or he's looking to expedite his journey to my lady's embrace," She comments mostly to herself, pouring herself another cup of rum and sipping from it.

She glances over at the blonde elf, waggling the bottle of rum she has in one hand at her. "If you want to share, I'm getting a table...a bit away from the bar..." She tells her, the rhythmic thump of her wooden leg following her towards some empty seating.

For the record, Pari doesn't particularly look like an undine - Flesh Chameleon makes her appear to be human at a glance.

The woman glanced down at the halfling with one brow cocked up, before she poured herself another serving of the rum from the bottle. "So, your very first line to a woman is 'tell me how you lost your leg'? You're a rather insensitive man, aren't you?" She asked him before taking a sip, wincing at the burn a bit.

"I'll give you some free advice, seeing as you probably need it. If you're going to hit on a woman, don't start off by asking them about what might be a traumatic experience for them. I'll let you take a moment to get the boot out of your mouth." She grins a bit, taking another sip.

Okay, I'm wondering a bit, what exactly is a grippli? Never heard of that player race before.

Thunk...thunk...thunk...thunk...

The rhythmic sound of wood hitting wood resonates clearly as someone new enters the tavern. Dressed in a rugged coat that hangs to the knees, the opened nature of it currently flaunts a tightly belted linen shirt and a comely figure underneath, the dark haired woman adjusting her backpack before heading for the bar.

Thunk...thunk...thunk... goes the peg leg on her left, the woman walking as naturally on it as if it was her own flesh and blood foot, sliding onto a stool at the bar counter. She leans forward, a silver spiral hanging off from her neck and drawing attention below it. "Rum, and leave the bottle," She demands before sitting back, glancing around the place. The peg leg is crossed over one knee, her elbows leaning against the bar.

The deeply tanned woman reaches under her coat and draws a plain dagger to work at her nails, digging carefully underneath them to get rid of unwanted dirt, flicking the refuse to the floor. Once she gets her bottle and cup, she turns around, pouring herself a decent portion, before lifting it up and slamming it back all at once, blowing hard as it burned down her throat.

"That is just terrible rum. Did they distill it out of a sahaugin's ass?"

Well, I sort of broke down and made the character anyways - everything but the gear's been done for her, so please take a look.