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PFS#: 86776-2002
Seeing the massive axe headed straight for him, Valeros raises his shield, interposing the wood and metal between him and the giant blade! There's a deafening smash, splinters are sent flying everywhere, and Valeros is left standing there holding the handle of a completely destroyed shield, with a small scratch on his arm. Unfortunately, he's too dazed to dodge the backswing, which catches him across the chest and leaves a nearly-mortal gash in his chest.
Valeros hurries to catch up to the others, waving his sword menacingly at the gigantic monster!
Valeros hefts his sword and shield. "Shall we?" he asks, seeing that Packet is finished rummaging through the refuse.
Valeros chuckles and takes a hearty swig of the gin, savoring the "pine needle" flavor and trying to decide the best time to bring up the group's purpose. "Nothing like a few needles in your nose to begin a peace talk, eh Grakcha?" he asks, coming to the point in a roundabout fashion.
Valeros unstraps a flask from his belt and pours it over the halfling's wounds.
Valeros sets his jaw and swings his sword again, intent on preventing the evil warg from enjoying its final meal!
Valeros follows the warg and waves his shield and sword in its face menacingly!
Valeros sets his jaw and edges forward, drawing his sword and preparing to meet the creature's attack.
If Rax is adjacent:
Nature:
Valeros grips his weapon and shield a bit more tightly, a wary gleam entering his eye as he studies the creature. "Perhaps we seek the Shattered Fangs," he offers without conviction. "Then again, perhaps we merely wander."
Valeros looks for valuable terrain resources while he clears a spot at the base of the cliff.
Valeros joins the others in scaling the cliff face and trying to pull the wool over the goats' eyes.
"Let's go meet 'em tonight," suggests Valeros, recalling orcs' preference for darkness. "I think we can make 'em see reason."
"Hate them birds," Valeros grouses, stepping forward and raising his shield at them.
Heads up, I'm headed on a trip and unsure whether I'll be able to post for the next few days. Likely back to normal posting on Wednesday, 11/6.
Valeros attempts to explain to the young man the intricacies of flavor which can be imbued into alcohol by various botanicals.
Valeros grunts. "Bout the only thing't'd bring anyone to this place, I'll wager. I don't expect you all are out here just enjoying the sights, eh?"
"Smiling Tusks and Shattered Fangs..." mutters Valeros to himself. "Never thought I'd meet another of either one. And who comes up with their names? No orc I've ever met -- even a 'smiling tusk' -- would call himself a Smiling Tusk. Particularly while dodging avalanches."
This, too, is a dot. <-- right thar.
Valeros moonlights as a weed-fighting consultant.
I might be missing it, but what kind of check is it to Earn Income? And do I just pick a faction, since he's a pregen, or is it stated somewhere?
Valeros grunts as the harmful energy washes over him. Taking a moment to recover, he glances over the ritual before turning his attention to the odd creature attacking Dorrance.
Valeros twists his lips into a thoughtful (if skeptical) grimace. "My granny always said rune-drawin' oughta be done in blue ink... and I always thought she was jus' carryin' on to get us not to draw runes, 'cause blue ink's hard t'find... but seems's'if there mighta been some truth to it after all."
Valeros doesn't pay much attention to the papers, but studies the coat of arms thoughtfully, wondering if he's seen its like before.
Valeros wrings a gallon of water out of his long, lustrous hair as he chuckles at Jaqard's new "friend". "Very nice... now, what say we check the rest of this hulk, eh?"
Valeros coughs and sputters a bit as he climbs up the rope Dorrance lowers. "Ahem. I uh... on second thought, maybe we can get some assignments that don't involve too many boat trips, eh?"
Valeros grins (good-naturedly) at the others' discomfort. "I've heard that Pathfinders end up on them a lot, so may as well get used to them! Here, watch this!"
Valeros chuckles softly. "Cayden's codpiece, for sure..." Raising his voice, he calls out, "Who's there? Show yourself!"[/b]
Valeros' brows knit together in a concerned frown, but he glances at the others as if asking whether they'd like him to go first.
Valeros waves the dwarf aside and scratches his cheek thoughtfully, trying to determine the best placement of reinforcements, as if the collapsing floor were a battlefield and he the commander.
Valeros raises his fist and addresses the redhead. "Yes! Go ahead, smash it! Don't worry about the fact that you've never seen a naga this closely before, or that you have a chance to study its form in detail! Forget about ever casting naga statuettes to sell -- who'd want perfectly-wrought snake-forms anyhow? Never mind what people say about your willingness to destroy such a perfect rendition this close..." Though his grammar is lacking finesse, it's clear that the young man is trying to get the metalsmith to think a little more deeply about her decision.
Valeros looks up from the mug of ale he's finishing, and nods, clearly not paying much attention. "... just grab one of these for the road..." he mutters, deftly swapping the empty mug for a full one from a passing server's tray. "There. All ready!"
Valeros sets down his mug of ale quickly on a passing halfling's tray, coughing slightly as the Society leader criticizes Caydenites. Recovering fairly quickly, he shoos the halfling away and steps forward. "Ah, er, greetings to both of you, and all that. Master Valsin, uh, I was wondering if you'd settle a little dispute between um... my friend here and me, about the proper rigorous...ness... of a uh... push-up. See now, here's how I do them..." Dropping to the floor in the middle of the room, the young man demonstrates a few push-ups, then calls up to those standing, "and here's how my friend over there does them..."
An ungainly fellow of medium build blinks and frowns down at Dorrance for a moment, having barely avoided running into her. It's clear he wasn't paying attention, and following his prior gaze leads one to Jaqard. The rough-looking man's frown clears and he mumbles something vaguely apologetic, side-stepping the dwarf and continuing toward the half-orc. Arriving at Jaqard's side, he leans forward and speaks conspiratorially. "Hey! You an orc?" Noting the mug of ale in the other's hand, the young man nods. "Good taste," he comments, before pausing as if he's just remembered that he asked a question.
Player Name: Oladon
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