Scott DeWar
Prof. Emeritus-Supernatural Events/Countermeasure
gah! double post!
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Scott Dewar's Homebrew: One by land, two by sea-Pathfinder RPG-IC
Scott DeWar
Prof. Emeritus-Supernatural Events/Countermeasure
Last edited:
mleibrock
First Post
[sblock=OOC]Sorry for the delay, very busy time for me during the week. [/sblock]
perception check (1d20+8=13)
An average sized half-orc which is still an intimidating sized humanoid creature, He stands 6'3 and weighs in at 250 lbs. His black hair and brown eyes match his dark complexion. His confidence can be felt/smelled, oozing from every pore of his body and he prefers to go shirtless under his hide armor. A prostitute once told him it was an attractively manly look and he preferred to believe she was not just flattering him because he was paying her. He has ritual scar tattoos in swirling patterns around a dagger. He wears a buckler on his left arm and usually wields a longsword in his right, though he also loves the feel of a dagger in his hand because it lets him get close to his prey. He wears a bandolier across his chest in which he stores his dagger for easy access and again, he thinks it's a cool look. This is Makoa and tonight the young half-orc is walking home from Sarenrae's temple. The old priest that took him in when he ran from the authorites so long ago is not doing well and in all likely hood will not make it through the month.
Makoa's thoughts are deep and heavy this night, they are fully consuming him as he walks the dark streets. He has never really had to worry about the seedier side of Eggert's Cove. Most the rif-raf don't bother a half-orc whose muscles are ripping at his hide armor. Maybe this explains why the voice he hears startles him so. Who is it that calls him by name. Then a note of familiarity intrudes into his thoughts - something.... from long ago. Makoa peers into the dark to see better - He sees Gorgol but it takes a few seconds for him to put it all together. Then, like a torch being lit, the memories - good and bad, familiar and scarey come rushing bad and purely by insinct, he answers - "Gro zhak gnahh rrab uk 'uh rohag, guhh' orzgo uh ha runroh - pn nrhan orbhhaakg rr' 'u haho nro rha' 'u haho r' uht haokt." Makoa stops his feet, and awaits the others response all the while holding down an unfamiliar feeling of nervousness.
[sblock=translation] She can still whip on your weak, sorry excuse for a mother - but that explains why you are the way you are my old friend. [/sblock]
perception check (1d20+8=13)
An average sized half-orc which is still an intimidating sized humanoid creature, He stands 6'3 and weighs in at 250 lbs. His black hair and brown eyes match his dark complexion. His confidence can be felt/smelled, oozing from every pore of his body and he prefers to go shirtless under his hide armor. A prostitute once told him it was an attractively manly look and he preferred to believe she was not just flattering him because he was paying her. He has ritual scar tattoos in swirling patterns around a dagger. He wears a buckler on his left arm and usually wields a longsword in his right, though he also loves the feel of a dagger in his hand because it lets him get close to his prey. He wears a bandolier across his chest in which he stores his dagger for easy access and again, he thinks it's a cool look. This is Makoa and tonight the young half-orc is walking home from Sarenrae's temple. The old priest that took him in when he ran from the authorites so long ago is not doing well and in all likely hood will not make it through the month.
Makoa's thoughts are deep and heavy this night, they are fully consuming him as he walks the dark streets. He has never really had to worry about the seedier side of Eggert's Cove. Most the rif-raf don't bother a half-orc whose muscles are ripping at his hide armor. Maybe this explains why the voice he hears startles him so. Who is it that calls him by name. Then a note of familiarity intrudes into his thoughts - something.... from long ago. Makoa peers into the dark to see better - He sees Gorgol but it takes a few seconds for him to put it all together. Then, like a torch being lit, the memories - good and bad, familiar and scarey come rushing bad and purely by insinct, he answers - "Gro zhak gnahh rrab uk 'uh rohag, guhh' orzgo uh ha runroh - pn nrhan orbhhaakg rr' 'u haho nro rha' 'u haho r' uht haokt." Makoa stops his feet, and awaits the others response all the while holding down an unfamiliar feeling of nervousness.
[sblock=translation] She can still whip on your weak, sorry excuse for a mother - but that explains why you are the way you are my old friend. [/sblock]
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Scotley
Hero
Gorgol grins a broad toothy grin taking almost childlike delight in Makoa's words. "Arakan's dak droll romagga, Makoa, du nacht ta strida." He pauses just outside the light of Street Öllampe knowing his old comrade can see him just fine in the darkness. He gestures a thumb at the door to Wareg's warehouse. "Wo lak lampet ver hunleg dis gralac?"
[sblock=Translation]"Arakan's dark hairy arse, Makoa, you haven't lost a step." (Arakan, the Darktongue (The Stranger): God of darkness, lies, and dangerous powers. Orcish). "Who is the rabbit we chased down that hole?"[/sblock]
OOC: Perception (1d20+6=17)
[sblock=Translation]"Arakan's dark hairy arse, Makoa, you haven't lost a step." (Arakan, the Darktongue (The Stranger): God of darkness, lies, and dangerous powers. Orcish). "Who is the rabbit we chased down that hole?"[/sblock]
OOC: Perception (1d20+6=17)
mleibrock
First Post
Makoa smiles back at his friend though deep down, he knows it's more than happiness, there is much relief in his smile as well. "''u, r' haokt haho mgn rrhan A kootot nukakrn - ha bhohaghakn tagohgauk aktoot. Nrukr, nu po nho, A gkur kun u rrhan 'u gbohag, A ghar ku uko. Pn, ranr nro tha' A'go rhat A zuht zohnhaakh' go ha tagohgauk hakt nro nrukrn u thhaakakk gurouko'g phuut nukakrn ag oknazakk aktoot.."
[sblock=Translation] You, my friend are just what I needed tonight - a pleasant diversion indeed. Though, to be true, I know not of what you speak, I saw no one. But, with the day I've had I could certainly use a diversion and the thought of draining someone's blood tonight is enticing indeed. [/sblock]
[sblock=Translation] You, my friend are just what I needed tonight - a pleasant diversion indeed. Though, to be true, I know not of what you speak, I saw no one. But, with the day I've had I could certainly use a diversion and the thought of draining someone's blood tonight is enticing indeed. [/sblock]
Scott DeWar
Prof. Emeritus-Supernatural Events/Countermeasure
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Scott DeWar
Prof. Emeritus-Supernatural Events/Countermeasure
Borhald
**Borhold sees the shadowy figure slip through the back lit door of the warehouse, The warehouse door closes with a dull thud, not wood on stone as expected, but muffled; as he stands watching he listens to the two large humanoids speaking in a guttural language, he is sure they do not see him.
Gorgal and Makoa
**The two halforcs, being old acquaitences, still remember their code speak as part of their gang days, easily communicating between themselves. The warehouse door closes with a dull thud, not wood on stone as expected, but muffled.
Garias Bazlagg.
**"pouches" Flannagan exits, his eyes shifting about. The tavern keeper looks relieved to see him go.
Kanala d'Arbaso
**All becomes quiet for the night.
Darthan
[sblock= quote me]Suddenly his heart races as he watches her leaving the shop, first locking the door, the turning around like she is looking for someone, a smile on her beautiful lips and a sparkle in her eyes. The walk home tonight was quiet and uneventful, his usual shadow empty and waiting for him. As she gets home she does her gaze about, the same smile seen when she leaves her shop. Suddenly his heart stops - his stomach drops to the ground. Her gaze has locked on to where he is. Is there someone unseen to him? Or has he been spotted by her?!?[/sblock]
[sblock=quote leif]Darthan slips as quietly as he can through the shadows in Kanala's wake. When she, the object of his fondest desires, turns outside her door, his heart froze. Why could he not approach her? Why was he so terrified? Oh, yes. It was because she was so far above his station and a gentlewoman like that could not be sullied by the likes of Darthan, who bore the weight of the blood of dozens upon his soul. He melted back into the shadows until Kanala was safely in her home, and then he, too, went to his abode and fell into a restless and fitful sleep. [/sblock]
** [MENTION=48762]Leif[/MENTION], Darthan needs to give me a perception check, please
**Borhold sees the shadowy figure slip through the back lit door of the warehouse, The warehouse door closes with a dull thud, not wood on stone as expected, but muffled; as he stands watching he listens to the two large humanoids speaking in a guttural language, he is sure they do not see him.
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Gorgal and Makoa
**The two halforcs, being old acquaitences, still remember their code speak as part of their gang days, easily communicating between themselves. The warehouse door closes with a dull thud, not wood on stone as expected, but muffled.
Garias Bazlagg.
me said:
**"pouches" Flannagan exits, his eyes shifting about. The tavern keeper looks relieved to see him go.
Kanala d'Arbaso
me said:
**All becomes quiet for the night.
Darthan
[sblock= quote me]Suddenly his heart races as he watches her leaving the shop, first locking the door, the turning around like she is looking for someone, a smile on her beautiful lips and a sparkle in her eyes. The walk home tonight was quiet and uneventful, his usual shadow empty and waiting for him. As she gets home she does her gaze about, the same smile seen when she leaves her shop. Suddenly his heart stops - his stomach drops to the ground. Her gaze has locked on to where he is. Is there someone unseen to him? Or has he been spotted by her?!?[/sblock]
[sblock=quote leif]Darthan slips as quietly as he can through the shadows in Kanala's wake. When she, the object of his fondest desires, turns outside her door, his heart froze. Why could he not approach her? Why was he so terrified? Oh, yes. It was because she was so far above his station and a gentlewoman like that could not be sullied by the likes of Darthan, who bore the weight of the blood of dozens upon his soul. He melted back into the shadows until Kanala was safely in her home, and then he, too, went to his abode and fell into a restless and fitful sleep. [/sblock]
** [MENTION=48762]Leif[/MENTION], Darthan needs to give me a perception check, please
mleibrock
First Post
Makoa looks back to the door...not quite the sound he expected. If nothing catches his eye as soon as the two half-orcs enter, Makoa will look back at the door and wall a little more carefully.
perception (1d20+8=19)
perception (1d20+8=19)
