Pharice's page

Hi folks. I’m sorry to do this, but I’m going to need to bow out. It has nothing to do with this game, players, or GMing, but I find myself checking the PbP games less and less frequently these days. For someone who used to check the boards for new game posts every few minutes, it’s very strange to get to a place where I just realized I haven’t checked them in four days. I hope that if I return to the hobby, I’ll be able to get a chance to play with you fine folks again someday, and I wish you the best of luck and happy gaming.

Knowing as well as anyone the danger of a crossbow bolt in an exposed torso, Pharice bolts for the cover of a nearby bush, takes a knee and gets his crossbow out and loaded. He takes aim due northwest at the man behind that bush (at the top left of the map).

Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
Attack Confirm: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
Damage: 1d10 ⇒ 9
Extra Damage: 1d10 ⇒ 1

Sorry
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27
Initiative: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

Pharice sees all.

Pharice whips out his own crossbow, aimed at the deputy. ”Pull that trigger and the dog won’t have time to rip your throat out.” the elf says calmly, almost hypnotically.

Pharice offers the retired sheriff a respectful salute as nod as she departs. ”It is unfortunate that she is not the baron, but that is not the way it is.”

Pharice nods at Draco’s request. The small smile playing at the corners of his mouth suggests he might enjoy such an assignment.

At the jail, he keeps his crossbow loaded and ready, but tucks it beneath his cloak.

Again, in the midst of all the chaos, shouting, and threats, the elf stands with his crossbow trained on the belligerent woman, so still as to escape immediate notice. Just because she seems to be backing down is no reason to relax his aim, however.

Only once the door slams shut does a small movement alert everyone to the elven sniper lowering the crossbow nobody saw him raise.

”I believe the castle gate, and then the jail,” he says, still watching the tavern door for the man to make a last desperate charge with a sauté pan.

”Stupid rain,” Pharice grumbles to himself as he cautiously watches the doctor disappear into the crowd.

Seeing the crowd gather, Pharice slips back a bit and be ensures his cloak is free from his bolt case.

”He should be reported. If the Archbaron is corrupt and using his office for selfish gain to the detriment of society, his noble superiors should remove him and replace him with a more civic-minded noble. That’s how the system works.”

Pharice nods, sparing a moment for concerned study of Cimri. Family can be a trigger of weakness and it wouldn’t be good if he gad to put their patron’s liaison down due to a momentary pang of familial obligation.

Sense Motive on Cimri: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

Pharice's eyes snap open at Cimri's prodding. He silently checks his crossbow, removes the bolt, and gets up to prepare for the meeting.

Pharice was preparing to bed down but sits bolt upright at the mention of a predatory monster in the very house with them. He quickly checks his crossbow and finds himself a position where he can keep a eye on both the main door and the fireplace, mostly the fireplace.

Fort: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11
Survival: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

Sorry, thought it was just one of us.

Survival: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
Survival: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

Hearing the thunder, Pharice winces. ”Perhaps another time. We should be getting back. This rain will be murder on my crossbow string.”

Pharice watches Cimri’s routine a few times before walking over.

”You realize the drunks you’ve been winning from aren’t actually very good, right? Would you like some real competition, or would you rather just continue to fleece idiots of their coin?”

Hey all. I’m recruiting for a second table of this home brew game I’ve been running, if anybody here is interested in picking up another game.

Pharice shrugs but doesn’t stop watching the room. ”There are always threats to be concerned about in a public place such as this. I don’t sense anything particular at the moment, but it never hurts to be careful. Feel free to continue with your mating ritual—I’ll watch your back.”

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Pharice scans the crowd, looking for the most obviously dangerous person there. Once identified (as far as he can tell), he looks deeper to find the face of the person not as obvious, but subtly more dangerous. He’ll spend a quarter of his time watching that person, and the rest scanning the room as a whole. There’s no sense of ease about the sniper at all.

The stoic, somber elf, nods in agreement at coming for some drinks, whether he was invited or not.

Pharice leaves his sniper nest and heads out the back. Seeing the guard standing there watching the back door, he shrugs casually with a smirk and asks, ”Nice little building for a tailor’s shop. Any idea whom to ask about renting it?”

He has no skill in Bluffing so isn’t really expecting the guy to believe him.

Pharice still doesn't know he's been made, but he's just watching out the window.

Pharice, unaware that he’s been made, continues his vigil. He keeps a crossbow trained on the sheriff, but his eyes constantly scan the gathering crowds looking for other sources of trouble.

Pharice looks around the empty shop for something that would at least make a noise if it fell. He chooses a door someone would have to open to get to him, leaves it barely open, and puts the noise maker on top. Then he sets himself up at the window, opening it just enough to stick his crossbow bolt through and targets through the glass.

”This will do nicely if you want to head back down to the street.”

Pharice nods and heads with Draco to check out the building. He first looks for any sign that the entrances have been forced recently, and then uses his tools to spring any lock (take 20 for a 30 result) and sneaks up stairs.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10
Stealth: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

Watching Draco look around, Pharice says to him softly, ”If our patron doesn’t want her dead yet, then it would be very bad for us if someone else decided the opposite today. Shall we make sure that nobody else has an unpleasant surprise in store for our fair priestess?”

”Who’s that?” Pharice mutters quietly to Cimri.

Pharice puts on his sash without further comment but a great deal of discomfort. The sash is altogether too bright and red. He checks the box, but none of them come in a soft beige or grey, or something more hidey.

Standing out is very anathema to Pharice.

”Would you like her taken out, my Lord?” Pharice asks.

Patient twitch as in suppressing an amused smirk so he can pretend to be angry?

”Abadar orphanage. Plus I learned a lot more over time having to shoot people who wanted to take my stuff.”

”Angry? I’m not angry. You can tell that I’m not angry with you because you’re still breathing…for now.”

The elf stares back at Jerax blankly, but an occasional twitch disturbs the corners of his mouth.

Pharice keeps his voice utterly flat and calm. ”Glad my pain and suffering could bring you such amusement. Laughter is the best medicine my aunt used to say. Don’t think she was laughing in the end, though.”

With that, he turns and finds something palatable to eat and retreats to a corner to people watch.

Pharice comes back from wherever he was mentally as one of his companions attempts to engage him in conversation.

”I wouldn’t know. I never made it that far. My family and I tried to flee Cheliax during the civil war after Aroden died but we got caught up in it all. After my parents died, I fell in with an Abadarite and a band of orphans who taught me the crossbow and how to survive before we had to kill the old coot for going completely insane. Those were very dark years you should be glad to not have been alive during.”

”I am Pharice.”

Pharice picks up the crossbow, whistling appreciatively, carefully placing his old one in its spot. ”What’s going on here? There’s no way that strongbox held enough taxes to cover the costs of these weapons, is there?”

He peeks inside his leather purse.

What’s in the chest itself?

Pharice gives the mystery man a stiff bow and silently follows the others. Once out, he vigorously wipes his brow.

Pharice stands at attention, hoping his military precision will mask his nerves at this strange encounter, and keys others do the talking (and draw attention to themselves).

A bit: starting with crime requires some big OoC for a legal-aligned character.

A million times this, hence the contortionistical rationalizations at the beginning. I was under the impression from the player guide that we were agents of Thrune and the Chelish government, but our first act is hiding from law enforcement to engage in petty larceny. Unless this tanner comes back to mean something important down the road, it seems they could have chosen a better hook for the first task (capture a runaway halfling slave that was being hidden at this tannery, for example).

If there’s no other place to search for valuables, Pharice is content to slip back out the hole in the fence

Nothing in the desk itself?

Pharice looks through the desk itself, looking for valuables, interesting papers, etc.

Going camping with the kids until Thursday. Not sure on cell reception. Please bot me if needed.

Pharice shakes his head at the suggestion, grinning wryly at all the deaf people. He contemplates saying something completely inappropriate but then catches Draco reading lips and thinks better of it.

Not able to get a clear shot into the building, Pharice contents himself with taking a pot shot at the pooch. Maybe he can distract it from Jerax.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (1) + 5 - 1 = 5

Or maybe he can just accidentally shoot Jerax instead.

Init: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23

Pharice studies the old man intently, noting how he opens himself on the left, and aims there.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 + 2 - 1 ⇒ (4) + 5 + 2 - 1 = 10
Damage: 1d10 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 + 2 = 8

”What do morals have to do with anything? I was told by people I trust that this man has been unlawfully withholding taxes and barring any authorized excisemen in the area, we have been contracted to collect them and set a proper example for others. The fact that we are on the lookout for local law enforcement just shows how corrupt it has become that they would impede our execution of Chelish laws.”

Yeah, BS rationalization. I know.

Everything hinges on making sure the door doesn’t get a handle on the situation, cause then it locks everything down—bar none.

”Boy, it’s a good thing we took out the guard dog before it could bark, so as not to alert this door we were coming. Wouldn’t want the door to run off and hide or anything.”