Venthrax's page

12 posts (62 including aliases). No reviews. No lists. No wishlists. 2 aliases.


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Where can we find the tracking sheet?


This is what I have to submit for review and to let you get the ball rolling. I'll try to set up the alias as soon as I can; I'm currently on vacation with the family; intermittent signal and no desktop PC are somewhat hindering.

Brewmaster Ziggie Ironstout level 1

Gender M
Ancestry Dwarf
Class Alchemist
Level 1
Background Budding Osirionologist
Speed 20
Class DC 11
AC 13
TAC 13
HP 20
Saves F+4, R+4, W+3
Perc +3 (trained), darkvision

Str 10
Dex 14
Con 14
Int 18
Wis 14
Cha 8

Armor: Trained Light Armor
Weapons: Trained Simple Weapons, Trained Alchemical Bombs

Sig Skills: Arcana, Crafting, Lore (Ancient Osirion), Lore (Brewing), Medicine
Trained skills:
Arcana +5
Crafting +5
Lore (Ancient Osirion) +5
Lore (Brewing) +5
Medicine +3
Nature +3
Survival +3

Feats:
Hardy (ancestry)
Terrain Stalker: Rubble (background)
Smoke Bomb (alchemist)

Alchemical Formulas Known:

Acid Flask
Alchemical Fire
Antidote
Bottled Lightning
Elixir of Life, minor
Giant Centipede Venom
Tanglefoot Bag
Thunderstone


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My current passion is playing a dwarven alchemist. Brewmaster Ziggie Ironstout trundles about with a small barrel strapped to his back, the sound of bottles, metal tubes, funnels, and flasks clanging about coming from inside it. While recognized as his clan's top brewer, he's always going on about his excursions with "The Corps" and how everyone in the dwarven military has to pull their own weight, even the cook, which was obviously himself. Quickly mixing the residue from distilling dwarven spirits with last night's cooking oil and some tindertwig precursors, he'll defeat an enemy and serve up some barbequed gnoll with a single action [alchemist's fire]. Quick to issue a put down to the foods of other races and even other clans "The Brenewicks!? They steep their mushrooms in urine... at least it tastes like they do!", he seems to have a begrudging appreciation for one source of recipes outside those of his clan. "My grand-pappy once told me he read some runes saying that them there Osirions had some ale that was... ehh, readily drinkable. Now, I bet you if I could get my hands on some of their grain and the recipe for that mash, with a few tweaks I could brew up something that could truly shine up the inside of your skull in a whole new way!" [Budding Osirionologist background].


Hiya, I'm looking to join. I'm the Venthrax foretold by Sorn.

As for my play style, when opportunities present themselves I like to keep things entertaining and interesting and hopefully layer onto both the character and campaign backstory. This is at least true for my online RPG gaming. Combat-wise, I like to plan my actions strategically, but try to incorporate as much flavor as the scenario permits.

I'm wanting to play Brewmaster Ziggie Ironstout, a dwarf with the (technically) Alchemist class [*squints over at Distant Scholar*]

Bonkleknock sample post:
The tavern was at its busiest when an elderly gnome hobbled in wearing long priest robes colored a rich clay-like reddish-brown with two long, thin strips of fine gold-embroidery on the left and right depicting thin tree trunks artfully wrapped in vines running from the bottom hem up to the shoulders where they delicately branched into a golden canopy. White hair flowed a short distance out of his matching clay-red gnomish cone-hat; equally white was his beard, tightly braided into a pharaoh-like beveled rectangle.
With effort he made his way to the tavern keeper and asked her if he could stew up something special for the first gnome from his clans to return to these parts in centuries.
As he took care of the request he climbed, with a volunteer's assistance, to stand atop a table at the center of the room.
He unfurled a long scroll and proceeded to make a pronouncement to all in the room:
[Imagine something akin to the munchkins speaking in The Wizard of Oz. ]
"The-High-Council of the-Gnomish-Kingdom-of-Duupshamar offers-the-guidance-and-blessings of Bonkleknock-Grynn, Elder-Priest of the-Lords-of-the-Golden-Hills... (myself)... - AND a-bounty-for-evidence-per-foe-defeated to the-first-group-to-survey-and-retrieve-the-sacred-texts from our-former-dominion, The-Burrow-Mays, now colloquially-known-as The-Barrowmaze."
Glancing a bit further along the scroll and muttering to himself a bit before rolling it up as his requested stew was served, the old gnome added personally: "I-may-be-towards-the-feeble-side-with-my-age, but, by-the-blessed-holy-visions-I-have-received, you-can-count-on-me. I amvery-determined-in-my-efforts to accomplish-this-sacred-task, granted-to-me by both-royalty-and-divinity."

Bonklenock excitedly shuffles over to the table with Kvasir and exchanges a few brief introductions before politely taking a small sip of his (relatively) oversized ale and then began:
"Actually, it-isn't-my-bounty, it-is-offered by her-highness Queen Elana'twill Duupshama the Second herself! It-all-began with her-interest in her-great-great-granduncle, Vurplebin Killowick, Grand-High Priest of the-Temple-of-The-Burrow-Mays and brother-in-law to the-king-at-the-time. Legend-tells-that when the-invasion-of-the-dragon Grenginzil and her-army-of-evil-followers-began, Vurplebin-took-up the Blessed-Tome-of-Mirth..."
Sip of ale after sip of ale Bonkleknock continued to share the story of the resistance, defeat, and departure of the gnomes from The Burrow Mays until he finished the last sip of ale and ended:
"... it-is-said-that, to-this-day- Vurplebin-and-Grenginzil-remain-together in the-secret-chamber-of-The-Holy-Hollow, laughing... forever."

That's a sizeable intro post for a previous character. Let me know if you want any other examples.


Ambooku dashes to a nearby merchant, roughly handing over one of his new gold coins and taking as many smoked iguanas-on-a-stick as he can hold, or at least until the merchant says otherwise.

Insight: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (5) + 0 = 5

While ravenously devouring his sorely missed homeland's comfort food, the wildman assumes the servants would not dare accept help out of a desire not to appear weak before their master.

They begin to move off with Syndra, and while catching up with them he shouts "Aay! Aay! Ambooku say he will come with and help, then Ambooku WILL come with and help!"

Persuasion: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (13) - 1 = 12

What he lacks in polish he makes up for with assertiveness.


Thanks from me too for the character stat block Orym, I've got some of it filled out for Ambooku now.


I had originally intended for him to have been part of a tribe in the wilderness, but the tribe had been wiped out when he was young by some enemy I have left undetermined. He then wandered the jungle mostly alone and helped by guidance from his spirit animal, but could have transiently interacted with other humans and lizardfolk. I chose Lizardfolk (Draconic) as an additional language since I figured he would mostly get along with them.

I'm flexible and want to make this work with your idea for the campaign. Would it make sense if he were to have grown up in the jungle near Port Nyanzaru, perhaps going between traveling townsfolk and local lizardfolk tribes?


Nice, Vrog, I was almost expecting your character to come across "the demogorgon" for a moment there :)


The enemies will just have to have an evil bard worth them to sing it in an attempt to intimidate and demoralize us :p


A woman's scream alerts everyone in the vicinity of the docks. Anyone who looks can see it is coming from the woman who just sold the fruit to Orym. The cause of her scream appears to be a tiny (4'11") bare-chested, wiry man with dark bronze skin. A bottle dangles in his mouth, with one arm around the woman and his other hand holding a melon (though some might say he was actually holding two, judging by where his first hand is).

In response to her screaming, he looks shocked, then confused. He lets go of her and drops the melon. Then a look of anger dawns on his face and he snatches the bottle from his mouth and shouts "You Lie!"

Turning away from the woman, he jabs a finger towards a nearby boat and repeats, louder "YOU LIE!!!" The crew of the boat he is pointing at appears to be trying to pull the vessel away from the dock as quickly as possible. The short man plugs the bottle back into his mouth and breaks into a sprint towards the boat. He reaches the edge of the dock and bounds onto a piling before leaping towards the ship. Catching onto the ships railing, he climbs onto it and jumps onto the sailor manning the tiller, tackling him to the ground.

Holding him down with one hand and wailing upon him with the other, the dark skinned man shouts "You lie! You give Ambooku bottles to believe your lie! You tell Ambooku lay-dee wants to be all kinds of nice to Ambooku! She no want to share her fruit!!!"

A deckhand comes over to help his pinned crewmember, but the wildman leaps upon him and knocks him out with a quick series of blows. The rest of the crew, some of whom look like they are themselves recovering from injuries similar to the two downed men, now gives a wide berth to the man pacing about the deck like a restless wild animal. "You take Ambooku from home, lock Ambooku in boat for... for very long time! Ambooku finally escape from boat, then you LIE to Ambooku about being friends, with bottles, and nice woman."
"Now... you try to LEAVE Ambooku here, with NOTHING! Well, Ambooku take THIS!" and he takes the shirt off the unconscious tillerman. "And THIS!" and he takes a pouch from the unconscious deckhand. "And THIS, and THIS, and THIS!" he says grabbing some hatchets, a backpack, and some harpoons. "AND... you no take Ambooku back to Chult, you no go ANYWHERE with boat!" he says, dropping his newfound belongings next to the tiller before grabbing it with two hands and, with a roar of effort, snaps it off of the boat.

With that, he scoops up the dropped items and, still holding the broken tiller like a club, leaps from the railing and heads back to the dock. He stamps across the dock, jostling into several people along the way, until he gets to the corner overhang of a large warehouse, under which he squats and glares at his surroundings for a moment before seeming to calm down some.

[Sorry for the lengthy post. Hope it establishes the character; I've been watching a bunch of Dawn of the Croods with my daughter and it inspired me to play a character this primitive. Chult just seemed to be great at getting it to fit. ]


Here is what I have for my character. I went with point buy for stats and the default equipment for the Barbarian class and Outlander background.

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1rJAihcW2VA7PTomsVJEKBg-VQ9IVqrHr


Hi all, I'm the friend Sorn mentioned above. I am thinking of playing a tougher-than-nails human barbarian native of Chult who got shanghai'd up to Baldur's Gate and is looking to get back. A party traveling that way might want to try to use him as a guide, at least that's my current concept.

Also, I just made this Paizo account two minutes ago, so if I'm doing anything wrong feel free to tell me :)