Otog

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common Scarby's head whirls and spins, reeling back to a place he long buried away and now rushing back up to the surface. To his horror, he realizes his stomach is growling rather than churning in revulsion. "Men at sea do... desperate things..." the old sailor mutters to himself in a voice that sounds distant and trails off. Coming to his senses again as his vision blurs but concentrates on remaining focused on the strange skull, Scarby turns to Kain and in a harsh whisper says, "aye lad, this be a monster who can not be allowed to live!"

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common The old sailor blanches at the thought of the nobleman's suggestion. Swallowing his disgust and a small amount of risen bile down, he agrees to go along. A simple "aye" is all is able to get out.

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common Although deeply skeptical and suspicious, Scarby follows Kain's lead while keeping an eye on the monster enthralling his comrades. "All right then lad, lead on..."

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common Having seen nothing of use from the outside, Scarby steps to Kain's side and accepts the bread with a nod to the knight. Holding the bread in his hand, Scarby considers his warning and now that he is inside, Scarby attempts again to quickly scan for anything useful within reach should the situation turn violent.

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common Scarby determined that the only way to end this was to somehow harm or kill the witch. But how? he thought frustratingly to himself. He knew he lost the element of surprise, but perhaps there was something in the hut he could use... A silver fork, a bag of salt, anything to disrupt the creature's concentration.

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common Scarby tries to recall if he had heard sailors' tales of how survivors broke away from a siren's song.

What kind of check would to see how I can break Haakon and the other charmed people of the affect?

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common OOC: Sorry, I thought Scarby was inside with the others. Scarby regards Haakon. He calls loudly over the other man's shoulder. "Aye, that be it then." He lets the robed man lead the way but only a few steps before he addressing Haakon in a harsh whisper, "hey! Reclaim your wits, man! We're all in danger! Especially those inside with that... thing!" All the while, Scarby makes sure he has Oma within sight as he rifles through his memories about tales of such creatures. He thinks that the other are likely to turn on him if he attacks or that his companions may become hostile if he grabs one of them to shake some sense into them. OOC: Would this be an Arcana or Insight check?

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common Scarby looks around at his companions and the monstrous hag before him. "Snap out of it you lot! You all been bewitched!" he shouts at those affected by the enchantment. Then pointing at the monster. "You! Release them, foul siren!" OOC Movement: — Action: Ready. If Oma begins her song, Scarby will pick up the sharpest and most throwable object within reach to interrupt. Bonus Action: — Reaction: —

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common Scarby quickly unslings his pack and doffs his canvas long coat, hoping to keep it safe from most of the wet and so he does not get tangled while traipsing through the woods. Shoving the bundle under a bush by the roadside and scoring a mark on a nearby tree with his boot-knife, Scarby sets off with the others. Moving from cover to cover as quickly and quietly as he can, Scarby scores marks on other trees to mark the trail back to the road.

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common Scarby shakes his head, scattering droplets from his brow. Cursing under his breath, "I knew it, foul sorcery!" He never thought of himself as a religious man, but he unconsciously began to make the sign of the cross before stopping and cursing again. "Bah! You're definitely not here, not in this place..." But doing so gives him an idea, and he turns to Tysh. "Tysh, yeah? Harin may not be in trouble, but I don't think he's safe either and we can come back for that." As he points at the trunk. "You said you can offer some kind o' protection? Can use your... spells or whatever on me, or even just ask your deity for me for some guidance? I'll move as quickly and quietly as I can to catch up to him."

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common Scarby takes in the aroma wafting on the air. Despite being the most inviting and familiar thing he has experienced since coming here, his long life has taught him that anything too good to be true often is... Addressing the group in a hushed tone that's just loud enough to be heard over the rain, "oi, this all don't seem right. I thought it be just my old bones, but anyone else feeling this... weariness? Then this?" Waving a hand in the air, indicating the smell. "May all be an old sailor's superstition, but can this be some kind o' sorcery?"

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common Scarby nods to Harin's response for help. As Harin points out his way of speaking and that he was staring, Scarby looks somewhat abashed and rubs the back of his neck. "Aye, caught that eh? Apologies. Yes, I'm not from anywhere near here. Wherever here even is. I was born in Jamestown, though I spent most o' my life at sea. Along the coast with the other colonies and Caribbean, mostly. I'm not even sure if time works the same here," Scarby says ruefully. "It was 1728 when I left." When he thinks of everything he has seen thus far since coming here, Scarby says with chagrin, "an' no. Lots o' different folk where I'm from, but we're all human. Strangest thing I think I seen was a Welshman I once knew, fresh off the boat, who went missin' for three whole days in Tortuga. When it was time for us to set-off again, he had three face tattoos and piercings you don't want to know where..." He chuckles to himself with the memory. Gloom quickly set-in as he thought how far away all that is now. Somberly, he continues, "but I was in London when that fog took me. I was there to finally meet my daughter... God. I hope she didn't get drawn into this place." Scarby suddenly becomes very quiet. He shakes his head to banish the thought. She's safe, you heard her scream from the other side, she's in her fancy manor sipping fancy tea with other fancy folk back in London. Finding again his determination, Scarby addresses the scholar once more, "thank you for mapping things out for me. Much appreciated, an' I meant no offense from before. Just let me know if you want help later with that." Scarby doesn't wait for Harin to respond. He quickly strides away, hoping that no one saw his eyes start to well with tears, as he takes his place in the marching order near the front behind Ardir.

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common Scarby finished climbing down just as the bearded man in robes finished speaking. Addressing the motley group, "Aye. The one who speaks strange words makes the most sense in this mad place, an' I agree with his suggestion." Pointing northwest, "I couldn't see much from up there but there be smoke in that direction. Should be well enough away from where we're headin'." After slinging the pack containing his meager possessions over his shoulders, Scarby noticed the struggling scholar. Initially taken aback by his pointed ears, but recognizing he was in clear need of aid, Scarby uncomfortably addresses him while pointing at the chest on the man's back, "Uh, Harin was it? Need a hand with that?" Scarby wondered while he spoke how all these weird folk seemed to understand him and them him. He spoke the King's English badly, but he seemed to have getting by just fine for now.

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common Scarby nods at the barbarian, before realizing he had never seen his like before. He hopes the thought had not reached his face before responding, "Aye. Good to know that one o' us has the lay of the land. Name's Scarborough Foster, but ye all can just call me 'Scarby' or 'that ol' cuss' or whatever ye prefer." Upon hearing ascent at his suggestion of climbing up one of the trees, Scarby approaches the tree which looks to have the sturdiest branches. OOC Sorry, I'm new to this. I'm going to attempt to do this correctly.

Thanks! Glad to join!

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 15 (Studded Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common "Wake up!" The back of Scarby's head throbs, but quickly gets to his feet. Too fast it would seem, as he stumbles once before standing up straight. Feeling the back of his head, he feels the beginning of what will likely be a large lump. In a lifetime of shipborne tumbles and tavern brawls, it was nothing he had not dealt with before. Blurry-eyed, Scarby takes a look around at the colorful characters around him. Some of them looked familiar from the night before, or was that a dream too? Regardless, clearly he was not in London anymore. Just before he was about to speak, he heard the popping. "You hear the popping too? I thought perhaps it was just my imagination... We have never been here before, so I do not have any idea where we are in relation to anywhere else. I can however take another look around, perhaps figure out something, but don't get your hopes up right?" Scarby quickly gathers his things and joins the others. Addressing the group, "Oi! Not sure how much help I'll be, but I'm a decent climber. I can see about gettin' a better look from up one of these trees?"

Hi. Count me in!

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 14 (Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common “My words,” "Hey there, mind if I sit?" | My thoughts 'Perhaps these people can clue me in on what is going on here.' | My actions are taking my drink and hopefully having a seat Scarborough takes in the room as, taking note on how busy it is tonight. He wonders how many are like him, strangers to this strange land. Kazzador tipped his chin in greeting as he approached the bar. The bugbear handed him a mug of ale and motioned to the table with @Setare, @Edwin and @Amelia. Scarborough nodded and raised his mug as thanks, this had been their routine the past few nights: the land-bound sailor getting his one drink of the evening after a day's labor and the bartender pointing out parties of interest in the barroom that may give him a clue on what is happening, and perhaps, how to get back home. Scarborough crosses the room toward the table, clearing his throat not to be rude but just loud enough to be heard over the din of the crowd. "Eh.. Uh, hey there. The name's Scarby. There room for one more?"   OOC Movement: — Action:  Bonus Action: — Reaction: —  

Scarborough "Scarby" Foster Human Sailor, Fighter AC: 14 (Leather)| HP: 12/12 (1d10+2) | Speed: 30 ft. Senses: Passive Perception 13, Insight 13, Investigation 8 Str: 16 (+3) | Dex: 16 (+3) | Con: 14 (+2) | Int: 8 (-1) | Wis: 12 (+1) | Cha: 8 (-1) Languages: You can speak, read, and write Common “My words,” Scarborough says nothing, but listening intently. | My thoughts 'I may have exhausted my leads and think it may be time to move on.' | My actions are crossing the room to get a drink from the bartender. The Wightwatcher Inn has been safe harbor for Scarborough. Doing odd jobs around the establishment in exchange for his stay these past few days has helped to acclimate himself to this place. Also, given spending most of his life on ships, the hammock in the stables felt oddly comfortable and familiar. After finishing up with getting 'Meat' enough firewood to last the evening, it was time for an ale... Trudging down the stairs, Scarborough thought that it was getting close to time to leave this place. He had learned as much as he could about his new surroundings before he entered the basement barroom. All of this would have taken him aback only a few weeks ago with the strange company occupying the barroom, but that already felt like a lifetime ago. He crossed the barroom and nodded to Kazzador. Despite being the ugliest creature he had seen thus far, he felt the most comfortable with the bugbear. Maybe because they were both considered old.   As always, he listened closely for any conversation of the undead, anything hinting of 'London' or 'England', or anyway of leaving this place. In particular, he takes note of the nobility in the room (Kain, Kathryx, Edwin, and Amelia) as well as those who may have news from afar (Harin, Haakon).   OOC Movement: — Action:  Bonus Action: — Reaction: —  

As a disclaimer. I haven't been on this site in a very long time. I will do my best to learn and keep up.

Basics Picture: Name: Scarby, Old Scarbs Character Concept: An early 18th century American colonial sailor finds himself in world of terror. Lineage, Background, Planned-Subclass Class: Human Variant, Sailor, Unarmed Champion Fighter Description: Scarborough Foster is a man in his mid 50s with weather-beaten features and hair that is more salt than pepper. His wiry frame stands just over 6 feet tall and retains much of its strength and agility, despite being far past his prime. His hands and fingers are thick with callouses but deftly nimble, capable of tying any number of knots or punching someone in the face. He wears simple, practical clothing that is common to his era and profession: linen trousers and long-sleeved shirt, waterproof canvas long coat, with low-cuffed salt-worn boots that can be easily kicked-off for climbing and swimming. He has since added a leather jerkin (leather armor), and given the situation wherein he was drawn into the Mists, he is unarmed. Scarborough is gruff and prone to bursts of anger, although he often remorseful after losing his temper even if he is too stubborn to admit it. He has seen much during his travels and is no stranger to loss. Although generally helpful to strangers, he can at times be dismissive of younger people and tends to keep others at a distance. He carries many seaborne beliefs and superstitions that become especially pronounced when he is nervous, such as checking knots or knocking on wood. Backstory: Scarborough was an orphan and raised at a priory in Jamestown, Virginia Colony. He chafed under the strictures of the church and fled when he was 13 years old. Since then, he has held nearly every position one can have on a ship in his long career at sea, with the exception of captain. Although he preferred to make an honest living on merchant vessels, mostly in the Caribbean, he was briefly pressed into service as a privateer. Scarborough has no close friends and believed that he had no family. In his youth, his one great love was the Lady Abigail Ashbourne. Their time together was brief and passionate, but social class divided them. Upon her return to England, she married and passed from consumption soon after. Several years later, Scarborough caught a glimpse of Abigail's daughter, Elizabeth. The resemblance between him and her is unmistakeable. Since then, Scarborough's goal was to one day meet his daughter. Your Character’s Plothook: After years sending her presents from his many travels, Scarborough resolved to meet Elizabeth. A fog had already descended on London that night when he approached her front door. There, he was instructed by a maid-servant to wait for her mistress in the garden. Elizabeth arrived and with tears in their eyes, they embraced. United at long-last, their time was cut short when Elizabeth's step-father began to call out for her. Elizabeth just had enough time to turn and tell Scarborough to hide before the Mists parted them. That is when the terror began, as a zombie burst forth from the fog to attack him. Scarborough arrived to Falkovnia on the night of a new moon in the middle of a zombie attack. That was a couple of weeks ago now. He is not entirely sure how he survived that first night. Scarborough knows he is out of his depth. He does not believe that Elizabeth was drawn into this nightmare (although I leave that up to the GM). Although he does not think he will make it out of this alive, his one hope now is to see his daughter one last time. Fears & Rumors: Cannibalism (Fear). Anything with tentacles or with long and coiling appendages, including snakes (Fear). He once resorted to cannibalism (Rumor). He has a brand that marks him as a mutineer (Rumor). Music: The Mariner's Revenge Song by The Decemberists Is Might Right?: Everyone has a role on a ship. Each need to do their part and someone has to be in-charge. However, a heavy-handed captain invites mutiny. More often than not, there was a better way, and 'might makes right' is often the justification for the high and mighty to stomp on the weak and defenseless. Game Statics Ancestry: Variant human Class/Level: Fighter 1 Ability Scores: Strength 16 (+3), Dexterity 16 (+3), Constitution 14 (+2), Intelligence 8 (-1), Wisdom 12 (+1), Charisma 8 (-1) Skills: The Acrobatics +5, Athletics +5, Insight+3, Perception +3, Survival +3 Passive Perception: 13 Passive Investigation: 9 Tool Proficiencies: Navigator's tools, vehicles (waterborne) Language(s): Common ("English") Combat Hit Points: 12/12 Initiative: +3 Movement: 30' Armor Class: 14 (Leather Armor, Dexterity +3) Saves: Strength +5, Constitution +4 Attack(s): +5 Unarmed strike 1d8+3 or +5 Improvised Weapon 1d4+3 (Thrown, Range 20/60) *Bonus Action After Hitting w/ an Unarmed Strike: Make a grapple check against the target. Class Features: Fighting Style (Unarmed Fighting), Second Wind Feat(s): Tavern Brawler

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