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Please check out this alias for consideration. I've repurposed it from an old campaign, but the character is new. Tzoltan is a bard (archaeologist), orphan from a famous show-biz family and all around party guy. I've done everything but spell and equipment selection. If picked for the game, I'll finish the stats. My chances are looking slim, though. Several bards / rogues already!
Still here.
Tzoltan holds his action, frightened by the proceedings. If young Grimmbold flees, he'll give chase.
Sense Motive on Tallius: 18+0=18 (What is Tallius' angle?)
Tzoltan is surprised by the sudden appearance of the guards. "They didn't come past me! It's some kind of magic!" The rogue remains in the shadows of the tunnel, watching the young man closely to see if he is using magic to direct the guards.
Watching Corvin climb the room, Tzoltan concludes that adventuring is more complicated than he first thought it would be. Who is this man, and why is he sitting here in his isolated delusions? More to the point, what should be done about it? Tzoltan sighs, chosing to rmain in hiding, just in case.
Finding himself in the midst of his first encounter with a potenatially hostile (and apparently insane) adversary, Tzoltan crouches nervously in the tunnel shadows, intending to remain unnoticed. He listens carefully to the conversation, wondering if he's heard the name before.
Tzoltan stays in the tunnel, trying to keep himself concealed in the shadows. Hide: 17+9=26
Tzoltan stops where he is, remaining silent and waiting for Corvin to catch up. He grips his hammer, expecting the situation to turn violent at any time, but makes no aggressive moves.
"Aha!" Tzoltan exclaims with an obvious satisfaction. He then visibly considers who should go first, and realizes it's probably himself. He carefully packs away his crowbar, goes down onto his knees, and carefully inspects the tunnel as he crawls in. He'll move forward until he can make out the source of the light. Perception: (checking for traps): 12+6=18
Tzoltan frowns, confused and frustrated. Thoroughly aware of his limitations in this matter, he removes a crowbar from his pack. "All right. Time to get serious. If this is a door, it's coming open.
Seeing nothing horrible happening to Corvin, Tzoltan can't help himself. He walks slowly over to the area where Corvin is looking (giving the chair plenty of space), takes out a sheet of paper and charcoal, and makes a rubbing of the symbols on the wall. He then makes every effort to work out what's going on with the spikes and the crack in the wall. Perception (looking for secret door): 3+6=9
Tzoltan shakes his head from side to side, slowly. "I might not have much experience in this sort of thing, but those grooves in the floor have got to be for blood, right? It's not gonna be my blood - I'm using all of it. Corvin must have some to spare." Tzoltan watches the room closely, anticipating that something awful is about to happen to Corvin.
"And how exactly is the magic torture chair potentially valuable?"
Tzoltan peers closely at the spikes, trying to divine their purpose, until he hears Anarath's warning. He stands up with a jerk, swinging his head around to look at the doorway. "Oh." He peeps, looking around worriedly. Torn between poking at the spikes and getting to safety, Tzoltan decides on flight. He moves quickly along the wall, back the way he came, until he gets out of the room. Assuming he gets out without being exsanguinated, he says, "That was probably foolhardy of me. It doesn't look like there's any way further through here, unless we want to monkey with those spikes. Of course that's as likely to trigger a messy trap as it is to open a secret door."
"Crikey." Tzoltan mutters when he sees the sinister chair. "This looks like it might be a dead end - no pun intended." Reluctantly, Tzoltan creeps into the room, sticking to the wall, as far away from the chair as possible. He's looking for traps, and secret doors.
Perception: 13+6=19 for traps
Tzoltan tries to ignore Corvin, and gets to work with his hammer and chisel, taking the door out in whatever way seems quickest and easiest.
"Hmmph." Tzoltan frowns, watching the moss drop away. "I've studied dungeoneering - it's an interest of mine. I've never read about killing moss with blood." He shakes his head in disbelief and hunkers down to take a closer look at the new keyhole. He removes his favorite picks and gets to work. search for traps: 14+6=20
I'm thinking that isn't high enough to pick the lock. If so, a frustrated Tzotan will take out his hammer and chisel and inspect the door hinges for weak spots.
Watching Corvin cut himself on the blade turns Tzoltan's stomach. "That's it. What in the Nine Hells is wrong with you?"
"Well, I'm amazed, frankly that you've lasted as long as you have as well, considering your rash...crikey!" Tzoltan covers his head with his hands, scurrying away from the door as Corvin attacks it. "Are you out of your mind!?" Tzoltan ducks behind the nearest sturdy thing he finds. "See? That's exactly the sort of foolhardy thing I'm talking about!" He adds, assuming he is still alive.
Tzoltan holds his hands up in front of Corvin. "No, no, no. Just hold up a tick. Crikey! You might be made of steel, but if you set off a trap then we could all get shredded, and I want a long and lucrative career, thank you very much." The "locksmith" turns to the door, cracking his knuckles. "Ahem, let's see here. Very crude, but perhaps its a ruse, hiding a cleverer device. I'll not be caught out that easily." Tzolan re-inspects the door, trying to decide the best way to deal with the situation. He'd prefer to disable the blade trap, but circumventing it is fine as well. Trying to spring it safely is the last option. Disable Device: 6+11 = 17
If all else fails (and Tzoltan hasn't decapitated himself), he'll step aside and let Corvin smash his way through.
Confronted simultaneously by physical impossibility and potentially poisonous (and gross) moss, the ever-practical Tzoltan chooses to push the concern of which dimension he's actually entering, and continues to follow Corvin. If he can do so without touching the moss, Tzoltan will check the staircase for traps. He will also attempt to check the new door fro traps once he gets up the stairs, if Corvin doesn't jump the gun and crash into it first. If he can't work around the moss, Tzoltan will suggest they burn it. He takes out one of his pints of latern oil and raises his eyebrow suggestively. "Hmm? What do you think? Should we burn this stuff?"
Tzoltan, still a bit subdued after seeing Corvin's unusual physiology, walks slowly over to the door. He's fascinated by the room, and plans to thoroughly investigate at some point, but right now, the door's his job. He pushes aside the growing suspicion that he's been led here on false pretenses by madmen intent on getting him killed, and moves to the door. Perception (for traps)= 7+6=13 "Hmm. Looks safe enough. What's the worst that can happen?" Disable Device (to pick the lock): 9+11=20
Tzoltan gingerly takes a skin key, covers the workings of his crossbow, and steps through the wall. He tries to look unfazed, but he's clearly disgusted. An "ick" involuntarily escapes his lips before he looks around and says, "I didn't expect adventuring to be this gross." He takes up his position behind Corvin, looking for his chance to pick his first lock.
Tzoltan sticks close to Corvin, just behind him, trying to be prepared for anything. He will follow Corvin's lead. He realizes that the question of keys can't be addressing him, so he just waits.
Tzoltan scurries after Corvin, following him closely in order to prevent the reckless man from falling into any traps. When they reach the first door, Tzoltan calls out, "All right, hold a sec. Let me have a look here." Tzoltan proceeds to check each portal (door, archway, etc.) whenever they arrive at one. If the door is locked, he will then attempt to pick the lock. If that fails, he'll apply his crowbar to the task. This will be Tzoltan's standard procedure. Rolling in advance:
Man, the dice are hot today.
Tzoltan is a nervous wreck in the morning, convinced he'd seen a will'o the wisp during the night. "I could feel it trying to draw me out into the woods, which would of course had led to my grisly demise. It was awful." He fingers the trigger of his crossbow with great agitation as the group heads off in the morning, and only settles down after a few hours of wet, boring slogging. Arriving at the manor, Tzoltan waits for someone else to lead.
Tzoltan's excitement is impossible to dampen, even with the miserable weather. He bobs along, dressed in his brand spanking new leather armor with a ridiculous matching cap. His toolbelt is stuffed with paraphenalia of all sorts, and it's so heavy he's forced to hike it up continuously. He keeps his crossbow ready at his hip as he walks, alert for danger. When you stop, he looks around for high ground, fussily selecting the best defensible location, and is crestfallen when Corvin selects a random tree to doze under. He opens his mouth to scold the fighter on his tactics, but then thinks better of it, looking around for a good perimeter to set up his tripwire. Once he's done, and his bedroll is neatly established, he makes an announcement, pointing out important features of his encampment. "All right gang - I've established a perimeter here. I've also spread the dryest twigs I could find here and here, on the most likely lines of approach. Mister Anarath, here's the alarm whistle - blow it in the case of an attack, but have a care to pass it on to the next sentry." Satisfied with his plan, he wraps himself in his bedroll and gets some shut-eye. After chatting for half an hour about how great it is to finally be on an adventure, that is.
"Sealed tight, you say?" Tzoltan wanders back to his basement shop, mumbling something about a crowbar, and the leveraging of force.
Perception: 2+6=8 to find traps (He checked before, successfully, it seemed, and found none. Tzoltan is the methodical sort, however.) Disable Device: 6+11=17 to open the lock Drat. Excited about going adventuring the next day, Tzoltan can't concentrate on any work for the rest of the day, and ends up turning in early. He's ready whenever he's called for.
"I'm ready to try my hand at the door you mentioned anytime. I have adventuring gear and everything." Tzoltan looks anxious and excited in equal measure. "Of course, if you need more time before we go, I could take another crack at the little chest. I just need to improvise some teeny tools." The young man takes a few picks from his tool belt and considers their functionality. As an afterthought he adds, "I have a crossbow. The action on it is really sweet."
Tzoltan goggles at the escapades going on in the street around him. Things surely do get more exciting when adventurers come into town. He looks down at the crumpled man lying on the ground and says, "You're in Greenhollow." Tzoltan smiles a friendly greeting, then remembers his manners, holding his hand out to hoist the man back to his feet. "You all right, mister? You got kicked by a mule, or something?"
Tzoltan bobs back and forth from his right foot to his left foot, nervously looking back and forth down the street. "ooh. Crikey." He says softly to himself, when the conversation gets heated.
Horrified by Corvin's manners, Tzoltan stands fidgeting on the stoop unsure whether to enter or not. Finally deciding he has no dog in this fight, he stays just oustide, looking around nervously but also trying to eavesdrop on what's going on inside.
"Umm. Mister Marcini, these men have something they'd like to sell." He lowers his voice and looks around, "They got it from the Manor. I told them you were the only merchant in town who might be interested."
Tzoltan leans forward as Anarath knocks on the door. "Be careful when you negotiate with this guy. Remember...Sczarni." He touches the side of his nose again, and raises his eyebrows meaningfully.
"Umm. That's a lot of money. Marcin Torvus maybe could take it and sell it in a big city, but I don't think anyone around here could afford a magic sword. I don't know if you want to do business with Marcin, though." Tzoltan lowers his voice and whispers, "He's Varisian." Thinking perhaps he needs to explain further, he pushes the tip of his nose sideways and continues to whisper, "Scarni...but you didn't hear it from me."
Tzoltan considers for a moment (Knowledge:Local=17). He will then expound on his best information as to where they might sell a magic weapon around here.
"Oh, the lock on a door is rarely as difficult as a tiny lock of the kind on this chest. I need to study the chest for a while in order to learn its secrets, but a door should be fairly straightforward." He hitches up his toolbelt. "So, it's a deal. Of course, I don't expect any money up front. I'll come with you, and if I can't get the door open, you don't pay a penny." His face shows clear signs of confidence and worry at the same time, and he adds. "I'm assuming that you fellows will take care of any difficulties of the monstrous sort? I don't really have much in the way of fighting expertise - none, in fact." Tzoltan bustles around his shop, tidying up, and agrees to meet the group whenever they are ready to proceed.
"Ooh. Nice piece of work, this is. Tiny keyhole. Very challenging. But, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?" He takes out his smallest picks, sticks his tongue out the side of his mouth, squints for a while, then sets to work. 16+6=22 to find traps
Sorry, better luck next time. If you go off on new adventures, Tzoltan will tag along.
You walk into the cluttered basement workshop of the locksmith you were directed to, only to find him tinkering away at an old bullseye lantern. The youngish, slightly chubby man has dark hair, dark eyes, and a smudge of grease on his cheek. He's wearing a heavy leather apron with a wide tool belt, from which he has extracted a pair of tin snips. He pokes half-heartedly at the lantern one last time, then looks up when he sees you. "Ah, gentlemen, what can I do for you this fine morning?" Once he gets a good look at the group, he takes an involuntary step back and stutters. "Crikey! You fellows are armed to the teeth! Are you asventurers? Have you killed lots of evil creatures? I bet you're the fellows went over to Grimmbold manner like I heard about. Crikey."
Tzoltan stands uncertainly, and looks in the direction of the smoke. He buckles the quiver of goblin arrows to his belt as he waits to learn the concensus of the group.
Tzoltan nocks an arrow and holds his turn, waiting to see if an opportunity to shoot the goblin dog arises without any danger of hitting his new comrades. If this scenario does occur, I rolled a 6+3 dex = 9, unless there are other modifiers. (Maybe the creature will break off contact and flee? Tzoltan has no qualms about shooting a goblin dog in the back. The point is moot however, since I'll miss in any case.)
Tzoltan shoots an arrow at the prone goblin.
Tzoltan scoops up the gold and the potion, stuffs them in his belt pouch, then runs back in the general direction of the battle carrying the bow and arrows. He's obviously very excited. "Hey guys! I looted my first enemy!"
"Yoink!" Tzoltan grabs the short bow and arrows. He turns toward the now-joined battle, but then changes his mind, crouching back down to grab more loot.
"What is it with the friggin vicious dogs?" Tzoltan skids to a halt, having no interest in getting any closer. "Alright, this is now the third time I'm regretting leaving my crossbow at home. What possible use could I have for it at the festival, I asked myself? Goblin assault, on big ugly dogs, that's what. Dammit."
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