ZayTM

Perils of the Lost Coast

Alastor walks the short distance to position himself in a location where one of his allies could surround the foe and swung his now enlarged throwing axe at the foe. He wasn't quite used to his new size, so his blow was a tad off the mark...

[ OoC: Rolled a 13 to hit. Since the GM is doing the target's number crunching, I'll just leave the damage roll here just in case of a hit: 1d8+1)

Perils of the Lost Coast

The half-orc weighed his options: it was too densely packed a fight to event think of throwing bombs or axes. Only one thing to do... He pulled out a flask full of extract he had prepared ahead of time, popped off the cork and downed its contents. Almost immediately he began to grow, increasing in size until he stood at nearly ten feet tall.

Perils of the Lost Coast

[OoC: rolled a 10]

Perils of the Lost Coast

OoC: 19! Whoo!

The half-orc hears the unmistakable thud of club on skull. Perhaps it was his orcish blood... More likely it was his lack of desire to be clubbed in the face.

Though unable to see in the dark, he kept his hands on a sealed and stoppered tube, just in case.

"Everyone, awake! NOW!"

Perils of the Lost Coast

[ http://rolz.org/embed?8709896 with the penalty gives me 6]

Perils of the Lost Coast

"If we do stop for the night," Alastor ponders aloud, "we would need guards awake. Perhaps tending a fire, if we lack those with the gift of night sight." He would certainly prefer to get a good night's rest... but would stand guard if he had to. He certainly wouldn't volunteer, though.

Perils of the Lost Coast

[OOC: we could have, I was just staying in character

The alchemist rolls his eyes and sits up in the wagon. "We aren't being paid to be good Samaritans," Alastor chides, "we're being paid for safe transit. Picking fights is the opposite of safe."

Perils of the Lost Coast

"If you wouldn't mind, Your Spookiness," Alastor said as he shot them a dirty look, "I would like to get our job done safe and sound. I am sure these fine gents would like the same for themselves. Let's just both be on our way."

Perils of the Lost Coast

[OOC: sorry about the long delay in posting, home environment has been very hectic as of late. I have my character sheet done up by hand, i'll scan it in and see if I can't figure a way to send it as a pdf

"Now now," Alastor said, gesturing downwards with his hands. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. You want to get away with your loot, we want to be on our merry way. Coming to blows wouldn't be good for any of us." The half-orc flashed them a brilliantly white smile before continuing, a clear and stoppered vial twirling between his fingers. "We ride on, you get your loot to safety, and none of us says a word about the other. Nice, quick, and easy."

Perils of the Lost Coast

[OOC]: Basic character bio
Alastor Grond
Half-Orc Alchemist (Grenadier)
Appearance: Though broader shouldered than most men, Alastor could have easily passed for human were it not for the pair of small nubs poking their way out of his olive skin. Set in his distinctly orcish skull sit a pair of golden eye brimming with intuition and intellect. His hair was always kept cut short, leaving the suggestion of horns and his slightly pointed ears clearly visible; Alastor had always found customers expected orcish bombs to have just that little extra oomph. Within his manifold layers of cloth were many pockets he used to carry his wares, both legal and... otherwise.
Personality: An arms dealer by trade, Alastor quickly amassed a small fortune selling bombs and other alchemical weaponry to warring city-states. His outwardly-obvious intellect and personal charm always helped to seal the deal in the past, but lately... there just hasn't been that much fighting. Oh sure, there was fighting, but not fighting. Not like there used to be... With his stream of income drying up and the cost of materials higher than ever, he had to turn elsewhere. Odd jobs here and there... anything that could be fixed with explosions. And his likable personality always got him that little bit of extra gold... And for now, that was all he was after.

The smell of pork had Alastor awake before the bell ever rang. He took the time to make his appearance as perfect as possible: wise, experienced, with just that liiiiittle bit of singe. No good alchemist has two eyes, as the old saying goes... He finally strode down as the bell rang, boots clicking on the wood floor with each step. He Acora a nod and a charismatic smile as he accepted his plate of food, preferring to let his teeth do the talking. Perfectly straight human teeth, that is. No sane person would trust an orc's fanged smile. Not even another orc.

Hell, especially not another orc.