Vir Maximus's page

Apologies. Work exploded a week before teachers return and I missed this one!

Vir gives a hearty belly laugh. "Now it's time for some hero fun! My friends, let us earn our triumph!"

Vir's skin begins to shine, as if polished metal. ]DR 1 v. piercing

He then begins to reap with the Harvest!

1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 7 + 2 = 24 for DMG if hit: 1d12 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 4 + 1 = 14
1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 + 2 = 20 for DMG if hit: 1d12 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (12) + 4 + 1 = 17

His skin then practically shines! uring this time, if a creature attacking you using a weapon dealing the same damage type as your resistance misses you or hits you but deals no damage due to your resistance, the weapon clangs wildly off your skin. This painful reverberation makes the attacking enemy off-guard and gives it a –2 circumstance penalty to attacks with that weapon until the start of the enemy’s next turn.

Apologies. Whirlwind trip to Toronto was more whirlwind than expected.

Vir, preferring to just challenge them all to a good old fashioned bout of fisticuff, knows when it's unwise. Instead he decides his time is best spent:

dragging things into the road to create some blocks athletics: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (14) + 11 = 25

Before deciding that firelight would create some excellent ambiance! Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11
Survival Hero Point: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

I'll hold on the others for the moment as their skills may dictate my 3rd.

Society: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15

Vir shrugs as everyone puts their heads together. "Wow. I am LOVING this vibe though. I guess.... um... point me at some hellknights to wallop. Otherwise lead on and tell me what I gotta do."

Vir takes the potion, "Self defense only, got it." "...or timely righteous fisticuffs..."

He grabs the potion and lets someone else lead the way, "No more questions here. We've got some exploring to do!"

Heretofore quiet in the background, a seismic laugh announces an other agent's presence.

Vir stands like a fortress hewn from living granite, broad of shoulder and thick of limb, with the effortless might of a man born to shatter shields rather than bear them. A smooth, sun-darkened scalp crowns a face dominated by a trimmed jet-black beard that frames a grin as ready and bright as a campfire in winter, for peril stirred his laughter more readily than it drew his caution. His eyes hold the gleam of one who welcomes the clash of steel and the roar of impossible foes, as though each fresh danger were merely another tale waiting to be told at the tavern. Resting across one massive shoulder lies a waraxe of daunting size, borne with the careless ease another man might carry a walking stick. Here is man who is a product of the Godsrain, and whose every stride proclaims that fate itself would have to wrestle him before it could claim him.

"Wait... can we take them ALL on?" He looks around before calming down a bit. "Um no questions."