Elder Sign

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Organized Play Member. 265 posts (7,178 including aliases). No reviews. 1 list. 1 wishlist. 11 Organized Play characters. 11 aliases.


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Haha
Check this out
link


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I was telling BB this story, so telling it to Pain and Tyranius -- and Rah too because he probably forgot.

Back in the day, when Rah and I freshly joined Paizo pbp, we played a bunch of games with some of the OG at the time. We had an idea, thinking it'd be cool to have an in-character thread for recruitment, rather than the plain old boring Recruiting Board. It would be a hangout of sorts, run by the Dos XX beer guy (yes it was back then), who was the inspiration for Rah's character Maximo Interresante. Thus Maximo's Hideaway was opened for business. (my alias 5th post down - Mu Ping)

Among these OG players was EndlessForms (aka Mike Tuholski) who had something like a dozen halflings alias under the last name, the Flaxseeds. He followed the idea and opened his own place owned by halflings... now the well known Flaxseed Lodge.

Thread dates for proof!


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DM Rah wrote:
Afterwards I decided to stay and explore this world in a thousand bodies of your people.

"Mineral, vegetable or animal, he'll do it all. I mean the old woman is not even a woman. If it's anything, it's a...a..." he searches his dim mind for the right word, "a doppelganger!", pointing at Fearless and his adage.


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”She unpacked it alright”, the Mariner waves the sticking cloud away. ”What does your real form look like? Because we're gonna hack it to pieces accidentally unless it looks like a damsel. In which case Butterfly will take a real stab at it.”.

While chatting, the Mariner give a check around the cell.
perception : 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22


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The Mariner had been told many times before that he had a scent like the inside of a sick old woman. Smelling this ten-thousand year old vintage, he nearly loses his grip on the sword. However, hearing the recounting of Briarstone awakening, he suddenly feels nauseous and losing his footing. Her words - like a magician's phrase to awaken the hypnotized.

::gasp::

"YOU!"


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The Mariner stands back eyeing the 'wise woman' suspiciously.
She better start saying something full of wisdom and not just a stab at something in the dark, which she'll be getting otherwise.


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A knifing cold first pierces the Mariner's feet, then crawling up his legs and torso. It's all right, it's just the magic, calm down, it's all right. When the cold ooze reaches his face, it dives into his eye sockets turning searing hot at once, gorging its tendrils deep into his being, the sensation of being turned inside out, Not all right! Not all right!!!

The universe suddenly explodes around him, like the opening of curtains to a show of things he cannot possibly comprehend. There is a dark void with tiny sparkling dots at an infinite distance. A large swirling blue orb hangs above him. He hears Fearless throw up sausages. Then he is suddenly slung into the void at a terrifying speed!

Half way through the journey of a breath's length but a millennia to cross, he hears a faint sound of a dulcimer.


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Oh my God - he's on backwards!
Why didn't anyone tell me my as was so big.


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The Mariner looks back and forth, certain a bloodbath was about to go down. Instead, there was sudden peace in the room like a great exhale, and now an angel appears to be thanking Butterfly. "Well that was gawd damn weird. What the hell just happened?"

"And who are you?", he addresses the impressive celestial, prepared to answer a resounding YES if asked 'Are you a god?'


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The Mariner thankfully watches the wounds close up by Desna's power.

”Hurt and Rescue”, he winks at Brother then nods ready, ”You heal, I'll deal.”. He slides his favorite pillaging helmet over his head, and raps the sword twice on the shield.

perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11

-great, now I can't see a gawddamn thing.


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The Mariner had fallen into a pod of jellyfish before, the invisible sting here was familiar but far more painful. He knew enough to wrench away with brute strength.

”Seagulls poking at my head!”, he shouts.

The Mariner then hears Cats get snatched up with a yelping meow, rushes over and tries to free him.

what's the mechanics to break grapple on an ally? Rolling sword in cse no other choice. Take the first d20 otherwise.

rage,sword: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (15) + 15 = 301d8 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14
rage,sword: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 291d8 + 12 ⇒ (4) + 12 = 16

confirm: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (12) + 15 = 271d8 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20


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perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15

”Smells fine”, the Mariner says earnestly against his own cologne called Hint of Brain that he's wearing, ”-but no sign of life. That rat, Mun, stinks all the way down here. ” He kicks loose a few stones, inspecting the area.

track: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

Knowledge (dungeoneering): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25


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DM Rah wrote:
I want no part of armageddon (a real one or that awful Opperan play about Starfall featuring Sir Willis Bruce)

https://paizo.com/campaigns/DMRahsStrangeAeons/discussion&page=6#287

I kinda liked that play.

”That's what they all say about the villain being dead”, the Mariner comments on Lowls corpse, ”Then they show up at the insane asylum with memories missing. So I'm thinking we leave you - the accomplice - here, and we'll come back with his corpse”.

This guy can turn on us


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Just got clobbered with 58 points of damage
and grabbed

"Yaah!" the Mariner goes down the maw like fresh oysters with red sauce. "Som-ma-b@&%+, you're not going to get me!!"

break grapple: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (17) + 18 = 35


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I'm with you on that Rah. The last two years, starting with the lockdown to now, some things have not been great. Call it the Mariner's sense of disturbance in the Force. However, one thing that has been and remains great is this game with you all. It's my only alternate reality that I've kept. But it's my fault as well, sometimes after repeated weeks of getting kicked in the teeth, it's hard to hit the escape button. I'll make a recommitment to post regularly - let's keep it going. I'm going to game with somebody regardless, here's a good place.

Perhaps PFS 'Scenario' pacing will help us move through, if that GM can work that out?


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As mayhem breaks out in the form of rural negotiations, the Mariner sheaths the broadsword and goes hobo mode.

grapple purple, rage, CMB: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (4) + 21 = 25

”Wrestling Weirdo Fornicators they called this back home!”

sorry fellas, been some bad weeks


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"You wanna show him where that symbol is located?", the Mariner says to Brother as the guard runs off. He wasn't sure what Brother BuIIshit is planning but is ready to follow the guard and show him the symbol of a fist to the forehead, or stay and wait.


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"Why is it closed?", the Mariner plays dumb easily, "We're here to get some edumuhcation."

1d20 - 1 ⇒ (14) - 1 = 13


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We can do the loot on the discussion page as we push on.

Leaving the merchants, the Mariner leads back to Star. Stepping firmly onto the familiar slippery deck, he feels some sense of groundedness. A round of checking on the crew and some loot sharing from his own pack, he signals to push off and sail to Katheer.

Pointing to the horizon, "Second star to the right and straight on 'till somebody dies."


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The Mariner inspects the shiny hoard, apprising it with a whistle and raised eye brows, "Alright, let's get to the whores."

"-I mean, oars", making a rowing action.


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The Mariner looks up at the ceiling, turns back to Fish Face, "Is that what you're trying to tell us little buddy?". Squinting further, "I'm probably miss reading lips but thinks it's saying Luck True."


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The Mariner barely had time to eek out a girly squeal at the painted horror, before getting eviscerated or even feeling pain. The next moment, Brother is wiping him off the floor with a sanitary wipe and some healing.

"Gád dámn", the Mariner says impressively at the arrowed corpse, suddenly reminded of how a surprised cat will shred your hand to pieces.

"Let's get up out of here", leading the way upstairs with watchful eyes.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7


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We represent the Lollipop Guild
The Lollipop Guild, the Lollipop Guild.
And in the name of the Lollipop Guild
We wish to welcome you to Miacknian Land

"When is your Chief Mustache due back? Maybe we can wait here and give you some shaving lessons?", the Mariner has no idea what the hell is going here. He's not even sure if he's in the Dreamland or back in the real. Everything is seemingly a part of Butterfly's dream, big watery holes, lots of hair, dwarves, personal care goods.


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"What? O-K? K-O jelly?" the Mariner peers at the glass. "Brother is all over that. Or vice versa", then back away. He inspects the other wall jars to make sense of anything usable that he can pocket.

perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12


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I kinda feel all the old school players who got hooked on PF early, from the 4th ed D&D exodus, is not going back. Those folks probably wrote the bulk of great adventures for PFS. 'First Steps' is still fantastic.

Thanks for the first person reporting on the Con. Sounds really fun.


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The Mariner stays the door until Brother finishes setting up his fantasy.


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grapple: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23

"Look cousin, call your brother - maybe he'll talk about your father or aunts and uncles", the Mariner moves to grab the man by the collar. "We know a kid who yammers on all the time about the relatives in his head, so we're used to it."


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Hey gang - Merry Christmas! Made it just before midnight. I got you all an Amazon credit enough to watch "In the Mouth of Madness"

https://www.amazon.com/Mouth-Madness-Sam-Neill/dp/B006RZZ9MQ

Rah: VWMZ-2ZXWK9-GGAQ
Fearless: FF8F-7QAR8X-P5AS
Cats: LJ2H-LDYKA4-USAS
BB: L5D3-ULSMN8-2XA5


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"Well we're already the finest place, right?" The Mariner puts the Watchmen up at the Sceptered House.

Paying for four rooms with breakfast in bed. He leaves extra tip for the girl named Breakfast who was assigned as Butterfly's personal maid, to dust bunnies or whatever sickness was called upon. Catnip along with a mix of wet and dry food for Cats. Fearless gets two servants to keep his mind busy on whatever he wants. As for himself, the Mariner orders a bottle of the finest booze in the inn, and chases it down with the second finest bottle.

If they survive the night, they'll meet the next mad man at the prison.


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There was almost no way for the Mariner to ask for what he should have known without sounding like a rube. "Anything else?", he says with suspicion, thinking, Because iocaine comes from Australia, as everyone knows. And Australia is entirely peopled with criminals. And criminals are used to having people not trust them, as you are not trusted by me. So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of you.


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The Mariner pulls out a small chest sets it on the table, heavy and filled with coins pillaged or picked from the deaders in the past months. Ladling a handful of gold into large leather pouch, he feels the weight of metal like a merchant. ”Cassomir – you won’t find a more retched hive of scum and villainy – at least until the next port. Let’s start with the harbormaster, Breren Dalvos.”

”If I can’t bribe him with coin, I’ll beat him with it”, he ties the improvised sap to his belt with a sturdy tug. Head off the Starling, his stomach grumbles, ”Maybe get a Thankful feast afterwards.”


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I forgot who wrote it, either T or P, one of you said that you found PbP offers a depth of character development that just doesn't exist in tabletop - so very true. My first PbP, no surprise, was (14 years ago?) when Rah pulled me in to try PbP on dndonlinegames.com which later became mythweavers.com. (Remember Sturgeon Abe?) Immediately, I found 'Wow, I could never expressed that character aspect in live games.'

Despite that, there are games with non-writers or just poor gamers, that it's hard to develop. With four super vets on here, it's fantastic.

Occasionally, I walk around feeling a little Mariner-ish.


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Quote:
"I'll haunt you till the end of your days."

WIL: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

The Mariner seems unfazed by Dumsel's haunting threat, "You're too late, I've seen this bastard naked", referring to Brother.

rage,sword+1,pwrattk,imp crit: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (20) + 13 = 331d8 + 13 ⇒ (4) + 13 = 17
confirm: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (6) + 13 = 191d8 + 13 ⇒ (5) + 13 = 18

rage,sword+1,pwrattk,imp crit: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 261d8 + 13 ⇒ (6) + 13 = 19
confirm: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 141d8 + 13 ⇒ (8) + 13 = 21

BoF attk: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 321d8 + 13 ⇒ (8) + 13 = 21
confirm: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (12) + 13 = 251d8 + 13 ⇒ (6) + 13 = 19


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The Mariner square of with the Sub-Mariner, wading through the water like two flamingos sizing up each other. Still keeping reserved, Dunsel lunges at Dumsel.

rage,sword+1: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (10) + 16 = 261d8 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14
rage,sword+1: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (1) + 11 = 121d8 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8


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The Mariner new feat added: Insanely Deadly.
extra emphasis on insane


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'lol' as common meme but I really laughed out at this. A couple of dudes, fully phobic.


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Sorry been a rough three weeks, a lot too real in the world and was hard to escape into fantasy.

To the Mad Poet's question of 'What is best in after life?' The Mariner stoicly answers "To crush your enemies! See them driven before you. And to hear the lamentations of their women."

"What with that damn book? What's in the smut rag? Are there pictures?" He doesn't peer into the tomb just yet, but rather keeps an eye on the grim host.

perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12


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"Bring along some crazy-in-the-head good-in-bed floosie and Mr. Vecna over here? - Pass." the Mariner wipes the broadsword off with the fold of his elbow bend, then slides it into the sheath. "Your loins can wait."


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Would have been great if he was singing this.

The Mariner flinches when he sees Lowls. Searing memories of the puppetmaster and the terrible things the Mariner had done as his chief brute slices through spine, but fended off before they can be seen in the brain. Not knowing or caring if this is the actual man, "Let's hack him to pieces.", grabbing a handful of axe and yanks him off his seat.


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The Mariner thrashes at dragon flesh until it gave no more resistance. Exhausted, he buries the last blow and looks down at the remains of the beast.


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AoO, +1sword,rage,PA,reckless,furious,fervor,haste: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (8) + 20 = 28
dam: 1d8 + 19 ⇒ (2) + 19 = 21

The Mariner trades blows with the moonbeast, which looked a hell of a lot like a dragon to him. Pondering for a flash that he thought the moon was made of cheese. The Mariner goes nuts cutting the cheese.

AoO, +1sword,rage,PA,reckless,furious,fervor,haste: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (20) + 20 = 40
dam: 1d8 + 19 ⇒ (7) + 19 = 26

Confirm: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (20) + 20 = 40
dam: 1d8 + 19 ⇒ (4) + 19 = 23

AoO, +1sword,rage,PA,reckless,furious,fervor,haste: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (16) + 17 = 33
dam: 1d8 + 19 ⇒ (5) + 19 = 24

AoO, +1sword,rage,PA,reckless,furious,fervor,haste: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 31
dam: 1d8 + 19 ⇒ (2) + 19 = 21


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Bring out your broadsword!
There's the hydra!!
Slice his nuts!!!

The Mariner brings the fight in close and personal, ducking and working through the dragon's defenses.

+1sword,rage,PA,reckless,furious,fervor,haste: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (2) + 20 = 22
dam: 1d8 + 19 ⇒ (6) + 19 = 25

+1sword,rage,PA,reckless,furious,fervor,haste: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (7) + 17 = 24
dam: 1d8 + 19 ⇒ (2) + 19 = 21

+1sword,rage,PA,reckless,furious,fervor,haste: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (8) + 12 = 20
dam: 1d8 + 19 ⇒ (3) + 19 = 22

AC16, DR 1/-


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My Catrenrae's Light, let me cat this right." -perfect

The unfurling sound of flapping wings sends the Mariner’s blood into a fearful rage. Urged by Cat’s holy meow and spurred by Brother’s prayer, he drops the polearm and yanks out the broadsword in a swift motion – flying towards she-drake. Gripping the hilt like a phallus, he slams full force into the scales.

+1sword,rage,PA,reckless,furious,fervor,haste,charge: 1d20 + 22 ⇒ (20) + 22 = 42
dam: 1d8 + 19 ⇒ (6) + 19 = 25

His right arm suddenly burns with pleasured pain, a speck of blood strains underneath the sleeve where the name Dunsel is etched.

confirm,auspicious mark: 1d20 + 22 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 22 + 6 = 32
dam: 1d8 + 19 ⇒ (1) + 19 = 20

AC 14, DR 1/-


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Glad to hear. Just do a channel energy. Get wife to lay on hands. Or Cats.


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"If Ahrkh-Nar likes torture, just have Cats read a grammar pamphlet to it for an hour. That ought to do it." Although the Mariner didn't think it'd be that easy, he asks to the point, What's the likelihood of us getting killed and or sh!++ing on ourselves?


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Sorry for absence guys, work has been drilling me. I set a daily weekday in my calendar to check the posts, hopefully that will knock me.


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Quote:
"One of them must have charmed me or something"

That's hilarious to me - a resentful jaded ghoul butler

The flight to the moon was a white-knuckle ride for the Mariner. Not from the obvious terror of sailing across an ocean of stars, nor from the seeming miracle of Bloodwind’s submission to an even bigger ego. Gripping the rails tight was all The Mariner could do to not throw Brother overboard when mid trip he stepped to the bow, spread his arms and screamed “I’m flying!”.

The alien creature here, in contrast, was a normal expectation. He stands next to Cat and waits in silent diplomacy.

Diplo assist: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (11) - 1 = 10


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The Mariner kept an eye on the slender man as he followed the others upstairs. "Renaming a ship is about as bad an idea as you having a drink. Nobody renames ship unless they want to end up at the bottom of the ocean", he shakes his head at Butterfly. "Thank goodness Fearless here knows the number arts, cuz' Cats here can only count to nine."


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The Mariner circles the man, "I was told there'd be no math."


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"AHAAHHAAAHAA!!!" hearing Avari call Brother husband, the Mariner could not contain an explosive laughter and continues until his stomach is sore, completely overcoming the pain from the lard topped biscuit earlier. When Cats and Fearless shows up, he's wheezing and pointing at the mustachioed fornicator and the woman, crossing his forefingers, "Married!"

As Brother gets worked up, the Mariner laughs and steps between the Desnian sinner and Serenrae forgiver. "Come-come Butters. You're gonna need a live redeemer to repent to!", he throws his arms around the large belly, like boyhood fights of holding back a friend who had no idea how to fight but trying to save his face.

STR: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

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