Targ Starksson's page

Yay!

Will save DC 11: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

Distracted by the battle, Targ just barely shrugs off the unholy wave of energy.

Still enjoying Iomedae's blessing in the form of a shield of faith, Targ swings his longsword at the halfling foe.

Attacking Ledford: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

Don't know if that's a hit, but just in case...

damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

Gah! Good thing I put up that shield of faith!

Is there a map? What do these people look like? Races and weapons and armor and so on?

Targ casts shield of faith on himself, raising his AC to 19 for the next ten rounds. Then he moves to engage the most dangerous looking foe.

Heh.

Targ would like to make a Sense Motive check to determine if the old woman is hiding something, please.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9

Targ kicks a bottle into a corner and tries to swallow his anger.

He turns to the old woman and says in a low, dangerous, voice, "You were supposed to be a caretaker."

"I was at sea on a raiding ship by the time I was twelve years old. But that is not what childhood should be. These children are supposed to be here getting well, not working."

"She's using them as a workgang?" says Targ. "I'm not sure I even want to meet this woman."

When the Pathfinders gather to compare notes, Targ points out the things that stand out to him. "She drinks a lot, she cheats at games, and she sends the children off on their own during the day? And has business dealings of some kind with shady characters?"

"Good day, Master Millitivis. I will be direct. My comrades and I have been asked to deliver some medicine to the orphanage in the street here, and to make inquiries as to the character of its owner, a woman called Auntie Baltwin. Is she a good caretaker, so far as you know?"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

Telling the others what he's up to first, Targ will wander over to the market while they talk to the children (or perhaps canvas the neighbors). He's interested in identifying the shopkeeper who seems to be in charge, with plans to ask about this "Auntie's" reputation.

What's the street like? Are there other private houses or any businesses? Do we see any neighbors or shopkeepers we could talk to?

"Of course we will undertake this task," says Targ. "But tell me, do you have any specific reasons to suspect that this Gilga Baltwin is abusing your charity?"

Do we need to take the papers back to the man at the Pickled Imp first? Or are we just summarizing that?

"The man at the Pickled Imp said he needed some papers, yes? Here are some papers. I say we take these back to him and leave the rest of this material here."

Targ grins up at Azizi sheepishly. "I'm actually a pretty strong swimmer, except for, um..." He gestures down at his scale mail and the heavy steel shield at his feet, then shrugs.

Targ maneuvers the boat under the hole, just in case the others should fail to pull the crate to a safe spot.

Thanks, y'all. The scene here is small, but growing, thankfully.

Thanks, Skipper!

"Well, if no one has any objections, then, I guess I'll go see a man about a boat. If I can arrange to borrow it, I'll paddle it around under the hole here."

I'll wait a bit to see if somebody spots a flaw in this plan, but if nobody does, I'll go out ask those people we saw fishing on the boat if they know who owns the boat.

That could work, maybe, though I'm not quite sure what you mean by a staircase. leading from where to where? We're above water, right? The area around the hole might be weak, but there are timber planks and coffins (presumably empty, sheesh) among the sundries in the warehouse. Maybe we could "bandage" the hole?

"There was a boat tethered outside. Perhaps it belongs to one of those fishermen we saw and we could ask to borrow it. Maneuver it under the warehouse to a spot beneath the hole, so just in case our plan to use the crane goes awry it might drop into the boat instead of into the bay?"

Three 20s in a row! And then a 1, of course, but still, that probably uses up Targ's blessings from Iomedae this scenario.

---

In completely unrelated news, I'm chuffed because I was just appointed Venture-Captain of my city, Lexington, Kentucky.

Targ moves into a position from which he can attack the final monstrous rat...

attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

ZOMG! Rolling to confirm!

critical confirmation: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

Hah! Had to end sometime, and it might as well end in a spectacular fashion. Still, automatic hit, so here's the damage.

damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

"Blessed Iomedae!" Targ shouts. "Look at the size of the filthy beasts!

With that, he brings his sword down hard on the rat attacking him.

Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

That's an automatic hit and a critical threat! Rolling to hopefully confirm the critical.

critical confirmation: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

Woohoo!

"Take that, filthy thing!" Targ roars.

damage once: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
damage twice: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Sixteen points of damage to the rat attacking Targ!

What kind of check is that?

Heh, I haven't a clue. I just made all that up, as I don't know a thing about cranes as used in pre-industrial, pre-powered equipment days. I would imagine it's either simply a pulley system that can be moved back and forth along a rail or a system of locking gears that can be maneuvered with a lever to crank loads up. But that's pure speculation.

Targ looks up at the rail-mounted crane and shrugs. "We can probably figure it out. Slide the crane along this rail to above that box, tie off the rope, then heave on the trailing rope across those pulleys. Somebody will have to clamber out there and secure the crate, though. And I'm afraid that's not something I'm very good at."

Targ looks around the docks briefly to see who might be watching them, shrugs, draws his sword, and enters the "pelican."

I'm loving Azizi. Hilarious!

Targ strides to the front door and knocks heavily.

"Hello? Anyone in there?"

Targ eyes the shopkeeper suspiciously, listening to the halfling's rationalization. He remembers his obligations to the Society, and is heartened when Torgil agrees to go along.

"Very well," he grumbles. "If this turns out to be petty larceny, then Iomedae have mercy on all of us."

Targ eyes the man incredulously. "I take it you don't have a key to this 'pelican?' Or are we expected to break into it for the privilege of looting it while the lawful owner is away?"

We'd decided to go to the place on our instructions called "The Pickled Imp." Is that the docks?

"I've had worse shaving," says Targ. "And yes, let's move on to this Pickled Imp place. These tasks are proving more difficult than I'd imagined, I must admit."

Hey guys, just a quick note to let you know I was running a (fairly epic) session of PFS at the local game store today and will catch up here tonight or tomorrow.

Well, that'll teach me to crow about a hit!

A 27? Let me just check and see...why yes. Yes, a 27 hits. ;)

"Beast!" shouts Targ, swinging the dagger again...

Attack of Opportunity: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

...to little effect.

He shudders at the imp's sting.

Fort save vs poison: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

Hah! Finally! That one should leave a mark, anyway!

LINK TO MAP

Seemingly unable to get the imp's attention with his words, Targ grimly slices at the unholy thing with the silver dagger once more.

Attack: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 3 + 2 = 23 (+2 is from flanking)

Damage on a hit: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

Ah, okay. And I'll check the map for flanking this time!

So, rereading the game thread, it seems that the attack Targ just took might have been an attack of opportunity on the imp as it stood? Do I still need to make another post for this round?

Targ darts forward, stabbing at the imp with the ornate letter-opener. "You're surrounded and outnumbered. Leave off and surrender the box!"

Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

Damage on a hit: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

Targ sighs deeply, draws the silver dagger from his belt, and bellows "We tried to reason with you," before lashing out at the imp.

Attack with silver dagger: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

That seems unlikely to have hit, but here's damage just in case...

Damage: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

I've kind of lost the thread of the combat. Who are we waiting on? (Hopefully not me!)

Twelve hours of planes, trains, and automobiles later (well, followed by ten hours of sleep), I am home again home again.

"Blast it!" cries Targ. "Cursed creature!"

Fort save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

Targ shrugs, tucks the silvered dagger into his belt, and bends over and attempts to pick up the box with his free hand (his other hand is occupied with his heavy shield.)

Sheathe a weapon (move action). Pick up an object (standard action traded down to a second move action).

And because I can't think of what else you might ask for, I'll go ahead and roll a combat maneuver check just in case it's applicable.

1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

Tomorrow's my travel day home from Mexico, where I've had a fantastic and productive working vacation. Hopefully I'll be able to sneak in a post in the morning if one is called for, but it might be Sunday before I make another appearance.