Black Tom's Kingmaker

Game Master Black Tom

Str: 8
Dex: 12
Con: 12
Wis: 18 (+2 human)
Int: 13
Cha: 14

Feats:

1a. Selective Channeling
1b. Spell Focus (Enchantments)

Racial Trait: Silver Tongued - Humans with this trait gain a +2 bonus on Diplomacy and Bluff checks. In addition, when they use Diplomacy to shift a creature's attitude, they can shift up to three steps up rather than just two. This racial trait replaces skilled.

Traits:

Magical Lineage (Lesser Geas): Pick one spell when you choose this trait. When you apply metamagic feats to this spell, treat its actual level as 1 lower for determining the spell’s final adjusted level. If possible I'd like this to be my main spell, unlocked to either my full casting level, getting more powerful as it increases, or to something like three quarters of my caster level. You could lovk off all domains but Charm and Nobility if you wanted, to represent his true power and focus. Depends what you'd allow/be interested in doing if the character concept interests you. :)

Noble Born - Orlovsky: Your family has a reputation for avoiding conflicts.
Benefit You gain a +1 trait bonus on your CMD. In addition, choose Acrobatics, Diplomacy, or Stealth—you gain a +1 trait bonus on this skill. Your family motto is “High Above.”

I woke up this morning half thinking to find a consistent pbp game with a solid GM, hopefully with a good pbp track record, and find a way to join his or her game. Then I saw the post for this Kingmaker recruitment and who was running it and knew I needed to at least try to get in, despite this being the final hour. Anyways, it'd be great to play with and for someone who's interested in a constant and stable game. Now without further gilding the lily.

He's a barbarian who's trying to be smart like the 'small men' (basically everyone who's not a barbarian) and knows that he must try to integrate himself into their society if he ever hopes to learn and be as powerful as the small men have learned to be. He's lost many men when attacking the small men, never able to understand how the tribe would lose against smaller, weaker foes. To gain this knowledge, which he believes will make him powerful, powerful enough to one day rule the tribes, he has forsaken the traditions of his people to remake himself -and this Remaking has led him to Brevoy.

He has entertained using a budding, inherent ability with magic, one that didn't manifest itself (according to Bugsby) until after he had left Sanos to seek his fortune. This growing ability, and a desire to learn the truth of the ever changing world around him, has driven the flighty gnome to periods of deep meditation contrasted with a distinct lack of ability to focus for very long on any one thing. He doesn't want to leave his friends, and that is what has kept him in Sandpoint for so long, but he watches those passing through to foreign lands with a wistful eye, and any who know him well, easily see his innermost desires to understand the whole world.

Standing at only 3',2" and a mere 35 lbs, Bugsby is not much of a physical specimen, but either in his bearing or his demeanor, there is something cold and hard beneath the slight, smiling exterior. His hair has been shorn close to his head around the sides, and he wears a fitted cap with a wide circle cut from the top. The purple hair on the top of his head stands up through the gap in the hat, and shoots out at all angles from there. If you happen to see the gnome at a certain angle you might notice a small string of characters circling his neck and disappearing down his shirt.

He served faithfully for many years, until one day an Orc raid all but wiped out the small community. He wandered then, town to town, eventually coming to Diamond Lake. He had a small Medical cart and patched up dock workers to earn enough coin to survive. All he wanted was to be left alone and allowed to quietly drink the memories away now and again.

Benton didn't speak of the injury which lamed his leg, but the rumors around town are that it happened in the same battle which destroyed his home. For his part, the man seems to ignore his infirmity and the pain it causes him, using his medical cart to lean on when the pain becomes too much. In his heart of hearts the half-elf believes his lame leg, and the daily pain it causes him, is the price demanded of him by whatever gods spared his life when so many others lost theirs. Sometimes he imagines that exacting revenge on the Orc tribe who took all that he knew, and loved in his own warped way, will alleviate the pain, unfortunately that would require him to be a man of action, which is just one more thing the orcs took from him all those years ago.

“Mushin!”

The old priest was fairly typical of the area: a shaven human male that stood just over five Shaku (about a five feet) tall. His task was also fairly typical of this monastic orphanage: looking for one of his children. This child, however, was … not typical.

“Mushin!”

A small goblin stuck his head out from a small barn. His ears were so large, that some of the other children said that they were larger than he was. Others claimed that they could see him coming “ears first”. This naturally led to games of Hide and Seek, which Mushin typically won.

“Mushin” the old man said sternly, “I told you – you can’t ride pigs.”

“Of course I can!” Mushin answered proudly, “Watch!”

“No, Mushin” the old man replied with amazing calm, watching the small goblin try to mount the oversized swine, “I mean you shouldn’t ride the pigs.”

“Oh.”

Mushin let the swine go and walked over to the old priest, cleaning off his simple clothing as he went. He waved to the family that he had been visiting.

“I’m sorry for the trouble …” the priest began.

“No, it’s alright” the farmer replied, “He’s a very hard worker. And he’s very good in the stables.”

The pair headed toward the small village at the bottom of the mountain in silence – a walking meditation. When they reached the bottom of the village, the old priest sent Mushin inside the store to pick up a few things. Just as Mushin was finishing, the old priest saw dust approaching on the Imperial Road. Reflexively, he started calculating the speed of the approaching steed. Such things were hard for a retired Samurai like himself to avoid, but then that was why he retired.

So he could die without attachments to this life.

As the cloud approached, the old priest turned the event into a meditation – observing, with no attachments or prejudgments. At a distance he could discern that the saddle was a typical military saddle, and the flag flying indicated that it was a messenger bound for the Imperial Castle. It was quite fortunate that the old priest was practicing his observation, for when the steed came closer he noticed that the rider was unconscious.

Or dead.

“Mushin! Come quickly!”

When the tiny child in an oversized basket hat came riding up to the Imperial Castle, the guards were unsure what to do. But the rider handed him a note that the guard passed off to his superior who passed it off to his superior. Soon enough, the head of the Imperial Guard came down. She was a late middle-aged human female Samurai that, if one looked carefully enough, one could tell was related somehow to the old priest.

“Mushin, I am Kasumi.”

The “small child” took off his hat, revealing to all that it was really a goblin that was underneath the hat.

Mushin leapt off the horse as only an expert could do and lead the horse over to the Samurai.

“Mushin” the woman asked, “do you know why you are here?”

“Yes, Dono” the small Goblin answered, “because Sensei wanted me to deliver the horse to his daughter.”

“You were attacked on the way here?”

The holes in the small goblin’s robes told the tale.

“Yes, Dono – but no harm came to the horse.”

The woman nodded and began to lead the horse into the Imperial Sanctuary.

“Come with me, Mushin. There are a few people I wish you to meet.”

“Hai, Dono”.

Despite his tattooed appearance and half-orc heritage, he was not shy about looking down on manual skillsets of breaking & entering as well as crude thuggery; despite the irony of enjoying breaking heads ("self-defense, Your Honor") once in a while. He sees magic as a tool to be applied not an art form.

He found it prudent to disappear after returning some lost items to their rightful owner and the charter was a reasonable excuse as any to disappear and let things cool down.

Unfortunately for Marcias, he never saw the kidnappers coming. Somehow word had gotten out that the boy was claiming noble blood, and that, the criminals realized, was an excellent chance to make some coin. Marcias hadn't even made it to the keep when he was stuffed into a bag and held in a cold cave for ransom. Marcias held out hope though, that his father would ransom him, or better yet come to his rescue.

Yet Baron Adarias sent no rescue. Indeed, the wily noble was sure that no bastard, however talented, was worth the cost being asked for. Instead, he spread rumor that there was no bastard, that the foolish brigands were as much con men as kidnappers. The kidnappers themselves were suddenly at a loss whether to let the boy go, or kill him outright as even they had doubts now about his high claims.

Marcias was scared when he heard his father would not be aiding him, but while he felt fear, he felt betrayed even more. Had he not found the fox, no doubt he would likely have been killed.

"You need to look ahead next time," The fox seemed to say.

"I suppose you always do," He muttered bitterly.

"I try. You should be more like a fox yourself. A fox knows not to trust too easily. A fox knows more than one way out. A fox doesn't just look right ahead, he listens far. I could teach you to read the signs, and..." The fox tilted its head, "Curious. You came this close to changing the world. I would have liked to see that."

"Me?"

"Well, not you alone, of course," THe Fox said, "But yes."

Marcias paused, "How about a deal. You help me escape, teach me some cunning, and I'll let you come along. Maybe Pharasma will allow me the fate she originally had planned after all?"

"You call on the lady of omens?" The fox said, sounding surprised, "Had you asked in anyone else's name I... very well, young Kit. I shall aid you. First of all, look for where the water runs..."

It was not easy, but with the Firetail's help (For that is what he decided to call the fox), the young lad escaped.

When he arrived at the gates of his father's keep, he was disheveled and half starved. Instead of the warm introduction, he found denial. He was told his mother was a lying whore hoping to make quick coin by foisting off some commoner child as a true Surtov.

Marcias was bright enough to realize what had happened. The baron would lose face if it was ever discovered he left a son, even a bastard, in the hands of mere brigands. Marcias tried once more to sway his father, but the baron had him whipped and chased off.

But Marcias still had Firetail, and he still had a destiny, or so Firetail claimed. His familiar opened secrets to him, and Marcias headed south. When word came that the sword lords sought adventurers, Marcias decided to test his witchcraft. He would change the world, and force other nobles to accept him, and remove the slander they'd spread about his mother.

At the age of ten, she started bardic training under a half-elf named Dabyd. He had helped numerous halflings escape slavery. Her apprenticeship was cut short when bounty hunters discovered her family’s activities and in the process of capturing three slaves, her younger brother was killed. This shattered the family. Boram and Rilka’s grief was too great to maintain their relationship. Rilka took the children to Brevoy — about as remote a place she could “easily” get to and where she didn’t think any hunters would make a profit if they chased them. Boram stayed in Absalom determined to get revenge upon the bounty hunters. They haven’t heard anything about Boram since leaving Absalom.

Along the southern border of Brevoy, Rilka and her children carved out a often hungry existence along the Shrike River. Lynndra practiced music and on occasion she would perform in taverns and at festivals. As the years passed a few halfling families and some “lone wolves” moved into the region (within half a day’s walk). Since the age of twenty, Lynndra has spent half a day teaching young halflings history, geography, math, languages, and how to use a sling staff. In the afternoon, she gathers berries, farms, and makes traps for small animals. For the past eight years she has traveled to Restov for two weeks in the winter to perform in taverns and buy one or two books. The most recent trip she heard about explorers wanted to chart the Stolen Lands and forge new nations. Believing this would be a perfect opportunity to create a haven for halflings, if not a homeland, she submitted an application with the swordlords.

Goals: She wants to establish a nation in the Stolen Lands based on freedom and liberty, where all races are welcome. Lynndra’s dreams include a national library, academy, and theater.

Personality: Somewhat reserved unless she is performing or giving a speech, Lynndra is kind and generous. Despite the hardships, she laughs easily.

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OFFENSE

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Speed 20 ft.

Melee +1 Short sword 1d4, 19-20/x2 Piercing

Ranged +2 Halfling sling staff 1d6, x3, 80 ft range Bludgeon

Space 5 ft., Reach 5 ft. 

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SPECIAL ABILITIES

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Slow speed 20 ft., Fearless +2 saving throws against fear, Halfling luck, Polyglot, Warslinger, Weapon familiarity
Bardic Knowledge, Bardic performance 12 rounds/day, cantrips, countersong, distraction, fascinate, naturalist +1
Spells/Day 1 Level 1
Spells Known Cantrips: Detect Magic, Ghost Sound, Summon Instrument, Unwitting Ally. Level 1: Sleep, Solid Note, Unprepared Combatant.

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STATISTICS

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Str 10 (+0), Dex 15 (+2) , Con 13 (+1), Int 14 (+2), Wis 13 (+1), Cha 15 (+2)
Base Atk +0; CMB 9; CMD 11 

Feats: Extra Performance

Skills: Acrobatics +2, Appraise +2, Bluff +2, Climb, Craft +2, Diplomacy +6, Disguise +2, Escape Artist +6, Intimidate, Knowledge (geography) +6, Knowledge (local) +6, Linguistics +4, Perception +5, Perform (oratory) +6, Profession, Sense Motive +1, Sleight of Hand +2, Spellcraft, Stealth +10, Survival +2, Use Magic Device +6

Traits: Freedom fighter, Pioneer
Languages: Common, Halfling, Elven, Gnome, Goblin
Height 2’10” Weight 29 lbs.
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GEAR/POSSESSIONS

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Weapons & Armor: Leather Armor, Short sword, Halfling sling staff (20 bullets). Other gear: Traveler’s outfit, Entertainer’s outfit, Backpack, Bedroll, Belt pouch, Chalk, Candle, Flint & steel, Vial of ink, Ink pen, Parchment (10 sheets), Rations (3 days), Sack, Soap, Sunrod, Waterskin, Whetstone. Musical Instrument (ukulele)