Ϝlint's page

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

Flint downs the ale in a single gulp, "AHH!"

"Well, see you, losers!", double slaps one of the minion's shoulder, then walks out the front door.

go back to the ship

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Completely oblivious to Keldo's defeat. "Huh?" Flint lowers his musket "I knew you come to your senses Luthor! Especially now that you seen the size of my gun... and my musket! Woof!!" :: pelvic thrust::

"Now let's make like merry mates! A round of drink for you and your men, and off to tell others how fantastic I am!"

He tosses his musket stage left, then calls the barmaids.

diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

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Flint pulls free of the black tentacles. "Luthor! - Keldo's gone limp!" He leaps across the bar in heroic fashion into a crouch. "Give me just a second to get you something hard!"

Full cover. Reload (fast musket, rapid reload)

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And we're back!

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Even in grappled by the tendrils of darkness, Flint seems unconcerned; instead, pausing to look around and behind him, wondering how the barrage of bullets managed to hit nothing. "Impressive Luther! You've managed to make up in volume what you lacked in skill and still missed the entire broadside. Now you owe the barkeep 50 gold pieces! "

escape grapple: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20

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"That's more like it! 500 per man - that's like... thousands!", Flint actually cheered by infamy. "Keldo, I am offended you have not heard of me. But have you heard of the new paint color going around the seas? It's called Hint of Brain! Woof!"

sheath cutlass, fire musket at Keldo: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23 >>dam: 1d12 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

Flint is behind partial cover

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"You forgot Dashing!", Flint taunts Lex and answers Leoran, "What's that?, and Bad "Flint doesn’t gamble - he Wins! We bet that his wife was better than his sister - he lost."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9

"Better clear off boys, it's about to get Flint in here!", Flint draws his cutlass as he flips the table over.

5' move, full defense, AC24

Flint is up to date

Good map, what's the scale?

Generally, GM rolls all initiatives and then calls the order like so...

Initiative:
Lex and gang: 1d20 ⇒ 10
Bad: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15
Faylon: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9
Flint: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24
Leoran: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11

Flint: up!
Lex and gang: 1d20 ⇒ 19
Leoran: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17
Faylon: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11
Bad: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10

This way, if the gang wins, you can post immediately and move to PCs. You also dont have to wait 1 week for initiative rolls.

Init: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

”Luthor! I have never been happier to see you! –Gun!”, Flint holds his arm out as someone from out of sight tosses a musket into his hand.

Or when?....

"Oh of course-", still no idea but waves for Leoran to continue.

Knowledge Geography untrained: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

"Hat rack? What hat rack?" Flint bristles and looks around.

Rum in hand, Flint stays quiet long enough while fancy-title-pants tells his story.

• "Bad" Bartigan Belmy wrote:

  Bad Bartigan says, "Hitting your ration of rum early again!"

  THE LOREMASTER wrote:

  Captain Nireen says, "Rummed up already Commander Flint?"

  Leoran Athlan wrote:

  "It would seem that you've had enough rum.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?!", Flint truly perplexed, "I haven't had a drop!". He turns back to the loitering men. "I am Flint -of the Seas! Envy of men - desire of women!"

• GM is confused, not Flint
  THE LOREMASTER wrote:

  "recover a Spy"

  "The Spy's name is Faylon."

  "Bad" Bartigan Belmy wrote:

  "What the hell are you talking about?! Who are you?"

Flint says to the two men, "Look here fancy title pants, we're not here for an extra special delivery, I'm here for Feylon, now which sodding one of you is him?!"

I actually like this game more than the Dwarven game. Stick with it.

My only criticism is too high stats. When there's nothing to strive or struggle for it takes a portion of fun out of it. You would have to hit us with level 10 encounters. Imagine how less fun it would be with Stroud if he was unbeatable.

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"Have you all been drinking your own urine again! I've told you -only when the rum is out!", Flint marches back to Leoran, gives him the right back of his hand, shoves a rum flask in the man's belt, "Find us men at the Sea Queen when you're done calling for papa!" Flint heads to the ship.

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untrained Kn Nobility: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15

Flint heads out the front door and down the street towards the Sea Queen.

"Bart... Bart... BART!!! -Snap out of it! We got to go!"

"This be far from o'er Flint. I'll be seein ye..."

Luther leaves the Tavern.

After Flint's rousing song, the bar patrons clap, both of you shrug to one another, and immediately spot the man named Faylon sitting at a table in the back with one other. You both walk over to make your acquaintances.

Didn't know you did late edit.

Answering Leoran, "-When Ol'Flint comes to the rescue - that's when! I just brought along Bart to carry my bullets! Now you don't look like a woman…", whispering to Bart again behind veiled hand, "The captain has tricked us again."
"Let's go, men!"

you missed
Charisma: 19 (+4)

cross post

Once Luthor leaves, "Now for some celebration!", Flint orders a drink and breaks into song, enticing the bar patrons to join. The song and Plan of escape already fantasied in his mind.

Perform: Sing: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29

"Oh I'm sorry Lux Luthor, I forgot you were there! -You may go now", Flint continues his reverie, complete ignores the man, scanning the room for his mark.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13

When he turns back and finds Luthor again, "Still here Luthor?!",then flabbergasted, "-And robbing Ol'Flint?!"

Initiative: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21

When a post is solely for a specific character/s, most GMs use the spoiler box or @Faylon

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You see Luther of Lux shambling towards you. "Damn ye Flint! Where is me 30 gold ye owe me?!

"That's for the privilege of drinking with Ol'Flint!", Flint answers before even seeing who's talking. "Now show us to the Mavara before I double it!"

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

Flint nods in agreement, "I still can't believe the captain is a woman! Since, you say we've been here in Belail before, we'll just follow the chanting sound of my name!!"

Now?

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On the way down the gangplank, Flint pauses, "Wait a minute the captain has fooled us before, this Faylon may be a woman!"

"Don't remember if I've been to this port before. What do those orders say?"

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With a hand salute which cuts through the air like a soft ::woof:: to the captain, Flint slaps Bart on the shoulder, "-to the Rescue!"

"What's your orders Capt?! You didn't ask for some daisy sniffing diplomat! You asked for The Best - you got him! Now let's go kill some natives!

"My own Captain!", Flint boasts proudly, "Nope! Haven't had a drop!"

::WoOF!:: (faintly from outside)

"AHEM.. long day I said, Capt!"

Flint comes to a sliding halt upon seeing the captain and waves Bart over, cover his lips with back of his hand, "Pssst! Were you aware the captain is a woman?!!!..."

"Good morning Captain! How can I fill you loin day with pleasure today?!"

"Wait here men, better go see the captain!" Flint heads to the wardroom.

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"WoOF!"

::WOOF!::

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"Another glorious day in the corps! A day in the marine corps is like a day on the farm. Every meal's a banquet! Every paycheck a fortune! Every formation a parade! I love the Corps!

diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25

"Well of course it broke! -Couldn't bare weight of these sea puppies!", Flint shouts back while indicating his bulging loins in crimson tights, "Right men?!"

::Right!::

"WoOF!!!", he confirms and continues to check his Marines, "Alright line it up... Looking good...", blond mustache bristling.

"GUN!", he calls out looking left with right arm extended right. Somehow, someone from out of sight tosses Flint his enchanted musket, squarely landing in his hand. Without missing a beat he goes through the drills. "Present Arms!"

”I’m up here, Bart!” The sun streams down through line riggings and impossibly blond hair as Flint slides down like an actor onto a stage. Landing into a stride, bearing pearl white teeth on shoulders too broad to be carried on such a tight waist, he lets go the rope letting the counter weight crash onto something out of sight. ”Iiiiiiit's me! HURRAY! Yes, I suppose the men will need a good example before their inspection!”