Roven Bluntaxe's page

Thanks for running so much GM!!

Tossing his shield to the side, Roven shouts -"Ye'r nae getting awa' that easy!" as he charges, bringing his axe down right on the assassin's head.

Attack: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26
Damage: 1d10 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

Roven Grimaces in pain and swings back with the axe.

Attack: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14
Axe: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

Fort vs Poison: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

Roven marches in, hunkered down behind his shield with his axe at the ready.

"Bring it oan then, ye feartie-cat!"

Fighting Defensively, readied on assassin coming in range.

Roven runs out of the alley and flings a javelin at the assassin in the darkness.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

Thrown off-balance, Roven blusters a bit and dashes in between the two enemies, trying to provide the requested flank and throw the enemies off balance.

"Quit muckin' aboot ye lot! Light a taerch!"

Axe Attack+Inspire+Bless+Flank: 1d20 + 5 + 1 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 5 + 1 + 1 + 2 = 12
Axe Damage: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

Roven charges the cultist in the blue robes.

Attack+Charge+Inspire: 1d20 + 5 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 5 + 2 + 1 = 13
Damage+Inspire: 1d10 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 3 + 1 = 13

Overrun: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22

Finally frustrated to his breaking point, Roven yells out, leans his head forward like a bull, charging with his horned helmet out. "Alright, GET OUT OF THE WAY!" And barrels through.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10

"Widja... jest... aaaargh!"

Frustrated, Roven still can't make headway.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Roven tries to pick his way through the crowd, but can't see any gaps.

Roven charges into the open flank set up by Thran.

Attack+Flank+Charge+Inspire: 1d20 + 5 + 2 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 5 + 2 + 2 + 1 = 30
Confirm+Flank+Charge+Inspire: 1d20 + 5 + 2 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 5 + 2 + 2 + 1 = 27
Damage: 1d10 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 3 + 1 = 11
Crit Damage: 2d10 + 6 ⇒ (5, 8) + 6 = 19

Reflex: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16

Roven manages to keep his footing, and gets out of the grease as soon as he can. He rushes next to Thran and swings at the cultist.

Attack+Inspire: 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 5 + 1 = 26
Confirm: 1d20 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 5 + 1 = 15
Damage: 1d10 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 3 + 1 = 11
Crit Damage (if applicable): 1d10 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 3 + 1 = 14

I have none of my daily abilities left ;-)

"Nae, jest a wee bit embarrassed. Durn geist!"

Roven spits, pulls off his helmet and wipes his head, stuffing his helmet under his arm.

Roven shoves his shield in from of the hole in the trapped chest that was pointed out.

"Let's give this a go, then."

He gets out his pick and wedges it behind the lock on the chest.

Strength: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

Unfortunately Roven is pretty much useless here. My acid flasks might do half damage if I'm lucky, but... think I'll hold off. Sorry all. I'll try to help out by supporting.

Roven, not seeing much he can do to actually harm the ghost, tries to distract it with his combat prowess. He steps into the room and around where Philoneus seems to be pointed, and swings his axe into the area seeing if he can throw it off at all.

If it's there

Miss Chance, High Good: 1d100 ⇒ 22

Attack for Aid Another (AC 10) to +2 AC for Philoneus: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

Looks like Roven is swinging at thin air.

That spot looks good to Roven.

Roven mimes knocking on the door, then looks at the group questioningly.

Roven nods appreciatively for the healing, narrows his eyes at the hydra, and then shouts to the crowd "That's enough mucking aboot - this beast is gaun doon! Wha wants tae see me tak' a heid?"

Sorry all, I've been having massive problems with the site, won't let me post (keeps going down during).

Roven continues to focus on defense, not wanting to down the creature again.

Roven will prioritize his shield again, and not attack Total Defense. With the cover of Thran's oratory, he'll grunt at Philoneus "Ca' aff yer beastie - ye ken we cannae end this yit!"

Roven holds, regretting the force of his blow.

Roven moves up to the spot opposite Mr Tiggles. He keeps his shield up high, prioritizing his protection against such a fearsome foe.

Fighting Defensively

He swings his axe in at the beast's chest.

"Na mair waiting - noo ah kin skelp ye! "

Attack - Fighting Defensively + Flanking: 1d20 + 5 - 4 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 5 - 4 + 2 = 23
Confirming: 1d20 + 5 - 4 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 5 - 4 + 2 = 22
Damage: 3d10 + 9 ⇒ (7, 9, 2) + 9 = 27

Uh-Oh

Roven raises his shield and hunkers down.

Total Defense

"Haud th' line. Understaun." Roven settles his helmet on his head with a determined look, raises his shield and bangs his axe against it.

"Let's show tha wee beastie what tha Lodge is made of nae!"

That's a fancy looking tattoo. I don't know much about much, I wonder if any of my colleagues know anything.

"Pardon me, a'm needin' tae speak wi' mah colleagues fur a moment."

Pulling Deenha and Thran aside, he says, in as hushed a whisper as he can manage, "Did ye see that tattoo o' nails oan her neck? ony idea whit that means?"

"We think ye'r bein' played fur a gowk, ye dunce." Roven growls, wishing there was someone to hit.
Diplomacy: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (12) - 2 = 10

I feel like we probably would have dumped the wagon when we got back to town, once we'd sold the lizard. Ah well :) H sounds fun to Roven. More fighting!

I'm at a conference Thursday-Sunday so I will be a little quieter. Will try to continue posting at least once a day.

Getting up from his seat by the fire, Roven dusts himself off, straps his shield to his back and hops on to the wagon, helm beside him.

"That's plenty o' blether, let's git oan wi' th' plan. Ah say we tak' this loot back tae toun 'n' lea thae sorry louts 'ere. "

"Aye, let's dae that, 'n' git rid o' th' Aspis emblem. Bloody snake-heads."

"I say we tae them up and send someone for em. Without the wee beastie they won't be interfering with - whit ur we cried noo Graenie?" Roven asks Thran, his brogue thickening as he drowsily sits by the fire.

Roven grumbles and begins gathering his various weapons from the campsite.

"A snakehead alive is always a danger, but do as ye will. Erm tired."

He pulls off his helmet, wipes his head with a handkerchief, and plops himself down by the fire pit for a moment's rest.

"What are you all doing over here?" Roven splutters. "The drivers and the horses are back there!!!"

Roven drops his shield and goes stomping after the wizard, screaming obscenities the whole time. He pulls out a javelin as he walks, and throws it at the wizard's retreating figure.

Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14
Damage: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

"You bloody fang-fancyin' coward, get back here and fight like a dwarf!"

Yelling back to the group. "Someone guard those drivers and grab the durned horses! And shoot this miserable cur!"

Reflex: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

Roven ducks out of the way of the mass springing up around him, and scrambles into the wagon.

"Right! I'll have yer for that, ye pox-ridden snake-head!"

He gets an AOO, I believe, as I move past Mr. Tiggles.

Roven swings his Axe down.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8
Damage: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12

Seeing a new target, Roven rushes over and swings his axe at the lizard
Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
Damage: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
"What are ye on about, Lassie?"

Roven marches forward to Red, pulling out his waraxe.

"Here's at your head!", he roars, swing his blade at the agent.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21
Damage: 1d10 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

Good Guy GM. Thanks :-)

Always endin' this way, innit. Roven thinks to himself as he strides out into the open, shield out, pulling a throwing axe off of his hip. He rounds around the stump and throws it at the agent in front of him.

Attack Roll vs Red: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
Damage: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

"Come on then, ya mangy snakehead. Show me your fangs."

"Might wanner send off them hurses tae slow 'em down. An I tend to raise a din - quiet's nae a boon friend."

Roven scratches his cheek as he waits for the halfling and the raptor to return.

Hope the little tyke is alright. Hope Deenha's okay, too.

Roven looks around for the Underground people he remembers spotting.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10

Can we look around for more people, GM?

"Maiveer o'er yon izza member o' the Urspis Consorshum."

Sorry for the wrong-character post. Didn't notice in time to remove.

Sweating profusely at this point, Roven wanders around the room, asking people at random about this Chelaxian he's spotted.

Diplomacy: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (19) - 2 = 17

"Err perdun me, random stranger. Couldja tell me all ye ken on that Churlish with the posse?"

Roven stuffs his helm under his arm again, wipes his brow, and looks around furtively.

"I saw Aspis in the book. That ain't ever good."

He attempts to surreptitiously look around for someone Aspis-y.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

Roven will drop off his pack - "Mind that pole, it's mah lucky'un..." - and then head over to the theatre himself, weapons and armor clanking and creaking.

"Not so much on sneakin', no."