A foul omen looms in the sky over the scoundrel city of Riddleport, an ominous shadow that defies the light. Is it a curse laid millennia ago by forgotten mages? Does it forewarn against the return of some terrible foe? Or does it portend a terrible
HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)
"Then let's ask him. Shove the cloak under his nose, see what he has to say for himself. He'll either crumple or sic some goons on us. If he tells us what we want to know, great. If he tries to have us beaten, then we fight back. Hard."
The lock turned easily under Bruendor's picks, the mechanism disengaging with a quiet click. The door opened with the quietness of well-oiled hinges - obviously a mistake on Smeed's part - to reveal a darkened room with straw strewn all over the floor. Bits of rotting fruit and meat seem to be scattered everywhere, and the smell of an animal presence is palpable. A dark shape on the far side of the room appears to be hunched over, possible in sleep.
With a heavy sniff, the creature jerked upright. It spun around and you got a glimpse of a long tailed primate before the large fangs toook all of your attention. With an ear-piercing shriek it attacked!
HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)
Round 1
Bruendor winces as he hears the creature scream. There goes the element of surprise, he thinks to himself as he enters the room. He pulls his sap and begins to angle his way around the creature.
Mechanics:
Standard: Pull sap.
Move: Move to -A2.
Free: Try not to look too much like a banana.
Male(HP:(198; DR 2(3 when raging);AC:22/12/22;F+17,R+8,W+9;Init +0;Per +15) Human (Ulfen) Barbarian 13
"What IS that... and am I supposed to kill it?" Lefrik asks.
Unless someone advises him otherwise, he'll instead try to subdue the damn thing by rushing towards it and smacking it with the flat of his great axe
-4 to the hit roll to do non lethal if I recall correctly. Already taken into account for roll below...
1d20 ⇒ 20 Non lethal damage if above hit:1d12 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Lefrik's axe smacked the creature hard up on the side of the head. The creature's wail was silenced at the blow, as the metal connected with skull with a sickening crunch. The creature fell to the floor, completely unconscious.
A scramble of feet on wooden stairs was heard from the front of the house, as well as the sounds of locking bars being thrown into place. Smeed was on the run!
Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13
"Should have had someone watching the other door," Anklebiter sighs, shaking his head. "Like when chasing chickens. Someone to come with me and run around the building, please?"
Provided someone volunteers, Anklebiter nips outside and starts running around the building, hopefully cutting Smeed off before he can get away.
The animal was a baboon, and it's inch-long fangs were bared to the air as it snoozed. The floor of the room was covered in the straw it used as bedding, and a chain was fastened to one wall. The manacle on the end of the chain was open, indicating that Smeed didn't keep the thing locked up all the time.
Anklebiter and whoever followed him to the front door found it closed and barred. It seemed that Smeed had no interest in running directly into the hands of anyone waiting outside. From the floor overhead came the sound of muffled thumps, and a long grating noise as something was dragged across the floorboards.
Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13
"Stilla Acida!" Anklebiter chants, and he starts pelting the door with acid, concentrating on the lock and the surrounding woodwork. "Someone put a strong shoulder into it, please?"
Male(HP:(198; DR 2(3 when raging);AC:22/12/22;F+17,R+8,W+9;Init +0;Per +15) Human (Ulfen) Barbarian 13
Lefrik barely has time to stare at the downed beast, before heading off after Anklebitter again.
Quote:
"Someone put a strong shoulder into it, please?"
"I must say, a 'regular job' in the city is very much like stories of raiding my father told me." He brings all force to bear against the door to help it along.
I assume I add str bonus to his roll to break down the door, if not, ignore that bonus
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
If that doesn't help, he may switch to chopping it down with axe.
Lefrik busts the door open to find himself face-to-face with another barred door. Meanwhile, inside the back part of the house, Calla stuck her head around the partition to see a staircase leading up to the second floor.
Calla easily lifts the locking bar on the door leading from the main office to the small alcove off the main door. She opens the door to see a surprised Lefrik getting ready to bash the door in, and standing on the splintered remains of the outer door.
half-elf Oracle 13 | HP 107 | AC 27/15/24 | F +8, R +9, W +11(+2) | init +3, Perception +8 | CMB +10, CMD 25
Kelendra snaps the manacle on the slumbering baboon, then shuts the backdoor and strolls in, following Calla.
"Sounds like someone is still bumping around upstairs, let's hurry." But rather than lead the way, she steps back against the wall to allow Lefrik to lead the charge.
HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)
"If Smeed gets away, we've got no leads on our man! After him!" Bruendor makes way for Lefrik to lead the way, and follows close behind, his sap at the ready.
Lefrik thundered up the stairs, taking them two at a time, with Bruendor and Kelendra close behind. The barbarian felt the tripwire hit his ankle, but there was nowhere to go as the gout of flame washed across the landing. He and Bruendor managed to avoid most of the flame, but Kelendra wasn't quite as quick. She took the main portion of the flame to her face and torso, and her shrieks outdid even the baboon's.
Tripwire! Lefrik and Bruendor take half of 2d4 ⇒ (3, 2) = 5 fire damage, while Kelendra takes the full amount.
At the top of the stairs, Lefrik saw a small man shoving something into a pack and trying to get a window open at the same time. He stared back in terror and dropped the pack, abandoning its contents in hope of getting the window open. "Stay away!" he yelled.
Half-Elf (Chelaxian) Female HP 109, AC 26/18/21, F +13*, R +11*, W +15*, Init +8, Per +22 Inquisitor 13
Initiative:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Calla moves into the room, pointing her finger at the man and rotating it in three quick circles. "Calistria's wrath find you," she swears, voice deadly serious.
Mechanics:
Activate divine retribution (1 of 6 uses/day): As a standard action, you can point at one creature within 30 feet to indicate that it is the target of divine wrath. A mishap or an accident appropriate to the environment occurs, such as a branch falling on the creature, rocks falling from the ceiling, or some other nonmagical misfortune; regardless of the cause, the mishap deals 1d6 points of damage + 1 point for every two inquisitor levels you possess (Reflex DC 13 half).
Male Goblin Wizard 13 (Abjurer); Init +2; Fly 40 ft.; Darkvision 60 ft,; Perception +5; AC 25 (touch 14, flatfooted 16; +2 Dex., +1 size, +1 natural, +4 armour, +4 shield, +3 deflection, hp 91; Fort +10;Ref +10;Will +13
"Don't move!" Anklebiter shrieks at the man as he hops into the room, and points a finger at the man. "Acid consumes you if you move! Raise hands, lie face-down on the floor!"
Ready action to hit the man with an Acid Splash if he tries to run despite this warning.
HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)
Bruendor curses loudly as the flame blast scorches him - less out of pain, and more out of disappointment. Traps were his specialty, and he'd missed it. "Damned human! Who the Hell traps his own staircase?!?" He offers a hand to Kelendra, who had taken the worst of the incendiary, and continues racing up the stairs.
Finally, they enter the upstairs, and see Smeed struggling with the window. "I'd listen to the greenskin if I were you, Smeed. Do you really think you can outrun all of us? Especially Lefrik here? You tell us what we need to know, and everybody walks away from this exchange happy and in the same relative contiguousness that they had going into it. You make us chase you, and well...I can't be responsible for what they do to you. My damned stubby legs means I get there last. Remember, I'm the merciful one. The rest of these guys? Not so much."
Mechanics:
Move to B15. Try an Intimidate!
Intimidate: 1d20 ⇒ 11
As Calla finished her cant, The window Smeed was forcing open suddenly slammed shut on the man's hand and the sound of cracking bone was heard across the room. He snarled and whipped a scimitar from his belt and slashed at Kelendra, who was trying to block his escape.
"Leave me be, damn you! Boss Croat will hear of this. If Vancaskerin thinks he can bully me to get out of paying off his debts, he is mistaken!"
His slash caught Kelendra beneath her rib cage and disemboweled her. The look of shock and horror on her face was matched by the others in the room. This wasn't supposed to happen!
Half-Elf (Chelaxian) Female HP 109, AC 26/18/21, F +13*, R +11*, W +15*, Init +8, Per +22 Inquisitor 13
"Curse you, Smeed. We're trying to figure out if you got paid, you illiterate son of a goblin, and what happened to our delivery boy. Now surrender or you'll suffer the same fate as Kelendra!"
Intimidate:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Edited because I didn't see quite how much damage had been done to Kelendra!
Smeed stared aghast at the corpse of the woman before him. The scimitar slipped from his fingers as he cried "What have I done? What have I done? it was Saul, he made me do it. If he hadn't sent you to kill me she would still be alive. It's not my fault!" He wailed and it seemed as if something in the man was broken.
"Please don't kill me. I'll let Saul off. My life is worth his debt, just don't kill me. Please, I didn't mean to kill her. She was just there, and I..." He trailed off, still staring at the body at his feet.
Half-Elf (Chelaxian) Female HP 109, AC 26/18/21, F +13*, R +11*, W +15*, Init +8, Per +22 Inquisitor 13
"That's a start, Smeed. We'll have to talk to Saul about whether it's enough to pay for a woman's life."
"Perhaps you will answer the simple questions we came to ask you now. Saul's employee, Larur, has gone missing. He was sent here to deliver Saul's pay. Did he ever arrive?"
Calla's voice is cold as the grave as her eyes remain glues to the hapless man in front of her, a vision of Calistria's wrath incarnate.
"No! I never saw the dwarf. But, if he's one of Saul's friends, good riddance, I say!" he realized that the statement might be applied to the woman on the floor and cringed from the expected blow.
HP 150/155, AC 26/13/24, F +14, R +15, W +6, Init +2, Per +16 (+19 traps)
"Kelendra!" Bruendor shouts as the half-elven lass is cruelly cut down before him. Fury flames behind his eyes, and he kicks Smeed's scimitar aside as it clatters to the ground. He slams a fist into Smeed's gut after his comment. "Mind your lip, Smeed! You've killed one of the Goblin's employees tonight. My mercy can only be pushed so far, and you are teetering on the edge! So, unless you want to be taking a midnight swim in the river, you'll answer all of our questions! Now, if Larur never made it here, why did we find his cloak in the bins behind your palatial estate here? No more games, answer me, damn you!" As Bruendor talks - nay, screams - his face flushes with an anger he'd kept hidden from all of the other employees. It's a little disconcerting to see such a change in the man.
@ DM Bigrin: I hope you don't mind, but I've swapped out my rank in Appraise for one in Craft (alchemy); it seems more appropriate and could be useful. For brewing alchemist fire, for example, which I figure would be a Goblin's favourite alchemical substance... ;)
Why do I think my paladin's going to have to prepare stern lectures for after the end results of your fiery antics?
Ghaen posting, now with a full messageboard profile.
Oops, just spotted an error in my background. Where it read "Nochlan and Ghaen were captured" it should be "Nochlan and Oskanna were captured". I´ve already corrected it in the profile. ;)
I do not know how much future planning you want, but there are two path's I have considered. One is to take several levels in rogue and/or ranger to gain abilities. The other is to take levels in Monk and possible Ranger or even Cleric.
In the first, he would become a general warrior for good. In the other he will be a holy warrior for good in the name of Sarenrae.
Please let me know if there is anything else you need.
I submit Aliah Verserl into the mix for consideration. I'll create the alias should the PC be approved.
Statblock:
ALIAH VERSERL - THE LOST CR 1/2
Female Human (Shoanti) Bard (Savage Skald) 1
CG Medium Humanoid (Human)
Init +1; Senses Perception -1
--------------------
DEFENSE
--------------------
AC 14, touch 11, flat-footed 13. . (+3 armor, +1 Dex)
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +2, Ref +3, Will +2
--------------------
OFFENSE
--------------------
Spd 30 ft.
Melee Battleaxe +2 (1d8+2/20/x3) and
. . Morningstar +2 (1d8+2/20/x2) and
. . Unarmed Strike +2 (1d3+2/20/x2)
Ranged Shortbow +1 (1d6/20/x3)
Special Attacks Bardic Performance (standard action) (12 rounds/da, Bardic Performance: Countersong, Bardic Performance: Distraction, Bardic Performance: Inspire Courage +1
Bard (Savage Skald) Spells Known (CL 1, +2 melee touch, +1 ranged touch):
1 (2/day) Cure Light Wounds (DC 13), Timely Inspiration (DC 13)
0 (at will) Open/Close (DC 12), Light, Detect Magic, Prestidigitation (DC 12)
--------------------
STATISTICS
--------------------
Str 14, Dex 13, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 9, Cha 15
Base Atk +0; CMB +2; CMD 13
Feats Bard Weapon Proficiencies, Extra Performance, Martial Weapon Proficiency: Battleaxe
Traits Auspicious Tattoo (Shoanti)
Skills Acrobatics +0, Climb +1, Diplomacy +6, Escape Artist +0, Fly +0, Knowledge (Arcana) +3, Knowledge (Dungeoneering) +7, Knowledge (Engineering) +3, Knowledge (Geography) +7, Knowledge (History) +7, Knowledge (Local) +7, Knowledge (Nature) +7, Knowledge (Nobility) +3, Knowledge (Planes) +3, Knowledge (Religion) +7, Perform (Dance) +6, Perform (Oratory) +6, Ride +0, Spellcraft +6, Stealth +0, Swim +1
Languages Common, Shoanti, Skald, Varisian
SQ Bardic Knowledge +1 (Ex), Bardic Performance: Insiring Blow (+2 HP) (Su)
Combat Gear Arrows (50), Battleaxe, Morningstar, Shortbow, Studded Leather;
--------------------
SPECIAL ABILITIES
--------------------
Bardic Knowledge +1 (Ex) Add + 1 to all knowledge skill checks.
Bardic Performance (standard action) (12 rounds/day) Your performances can create magical effects.
Bardic Performance: Countersong (Su) Counter magical effects that depend on sound.
Bardic Performance: Distraction (Su) Counter magical effects that depend on sight.
Bardic Performance: Insiring Blow (+2 HP) (Su) Begin a performance as an immediate action after a critical hit, gain CHA temp HP and grant allies within 30' +1 on next attack roll
Bardic Performance: Inspire Courage +1 (Su) Morale bonus on some saving throws, attack and damage rolls.
Appearance:
An olive skin tone betrays the fact that Aliah is not from Riddleport, despite her best attempts to appear otherwise. Her hair is long and normally tied into a tight plait to keep it manageable, yet the odd day you may find Aliah unaware it it as if silk hangs around her shoulders in color as dark as midnight on a new moon night. Her eyes are a piercing earthen color, nearly as dark as her hair one could swear if one is unfortunate enough to earn her ire. Despite a small frame, Aliah is stronger than one might first suppose, yet a calm creature whose tongue seemingly wraps itself around languages like they are art. Of her seemingly exotic appearance the most telling is the crescent moon she wears around her right eye, the thickest part of the moon resting over the bone of her temple. Despite the seeming religious symbol, Aliah does not come off as overtly religious.
Background:
Born to the Lyrune-Quah of the Cinderland's Shoanti tribes, Aliah spent much of her childhood traveling. Born the night the Quah had stopped for rest at a Desnan wayshrine, it was seen as a gift that the young girl was born at the dead of night. Aliah did not see the gift herself: her mother died that night after giving birth to the child, living long enough to give her birth name and hold the girl as she screamed. Aliah's father, a hunter of the Quah, had a hard time accepting his wife's death and while on a hunt with the fellow warrior he wandered off on the third fortnight after his daughter's birth and was not found. It's said the Cinderlander found him and killed him, but all that aside ALiah was not even form her infancy and now alone in the world save her Quah.
As Aliah grew, she was taught the way of the Keepers of the Quahs and learned many languages to communicate. She sang in the sweet bardic tongue Skald, sweet songs that left many in tears with her mastery of the language. She was taught to fight as her father before her, though she was not of her father's strength and could not hunt as he did. While studying the stories of the Keepers, Aliah came across an oral tale of her mother, though seemingly not one of her childhood as most Shoanti had. Aliah's mother's story started in her adulthood with her vows to her father - nothing more was said before that.
Aliah took it upon herself to ask after her mother, and with pressing she found out the truth: her mother, a young adventurer at the time, had stumbled upon the Quah while traveling lost with an adventuring party. Smitten with the Shoanti warrior, the girl stayed with the clan to prove her worthiness to take him as a husband and bear his children. Aliah was not a pureblood of the Cinderlands, as she'd been led to believe, but rather a decedent of a merchant family from a small city by the name of Riddleport, seemingly an eternity away from her current home.
the night before her fifteenth nameday Aliah stole away from the Quah as they meandered close to the storval stairs and began wandering the massive frontier that is the land of Varisia. Finding a small village, asking for help and making her way towards the sea, Aliah first stood in the same waters her mother was born in a few days after her sixteenth celebration of her birth. Aliah first asked of her mother and after finding the small city's historical records took her mother's surname as her own, forever now lost to the Shoanti.
After spending some years in the small city of Riddleport, Aliah wishes nothing more than to learn of her families' history - the Shoanti and cares of others far from her mind.
@ DM Bigrin: I hope you don't mind, but I've swapped out my rank in Appraise for one in Craft (alchemy); it seems more appropriate and could be useful. For brewing alchemist fire, for example, which I figure would be a Goblin's favourite alchemical substance... ;)
Why do I think my paladin's going to have to prepare stern lectures for after the end results of your fiery antics?
Welllll, you might have to. Then again, if Anklebiter's 'fiery antics' wind up destroying the enemy whilst saving the party and any innocents around, would the occasional building going up in flames really be that much of an issue? :P
@ DM Bigrin: I hope you don't mind, but I've swapped out my rank in Appraise for one in Craft (alchemy); it seems more appropriate and could be useful. For brewing alchemist fire, for example, which I figure would be a Goblin's favourite alchemical substance... ;)
Why do I think my paladin's going to have to prepare stern lectures for after the end results of your fiery antics?
Welllll, you might have to. Then again, if Anklebiter's 'fiery antics' wind up destroying the enemy whilst saving the party and any innocents around, would the occasional building going up in flames really be that much of an issue? :P
We may have to work out a restitution plan for property damages caused 'excessive explosions'; more so if the use of explosives and fire can be held off until necessary :P
On the day she was born Antumbra woke up screaming. Her voice was shrill, charged with lightning that cracked down on her writhing, naked, pale flesh. On the day she came into being she had aged already one-hundred-ten years of her elven life.
Almost her entire body, reaching from chest to thighs, was covered in scars. The pain was debilitating, excruciating. Burning with white-hot intensity, each of the scars oozed and seeped with a slithering black substance that eked out of the permanent wounds. Amidst the pain, Antumbra went to touch the substance, to pull it away, to block it from seeping out, anything, but she found that she couldn’t, she found that the material was not substantive, not corporeal; it was nothing; it was but shadow.
Her hands gripped and tore at the earth she laid upon, her eyes darting back and forth at the tall oaks that loomed above her in the forest, pressing inward, blocking all light, blocking all sensation but the pain that enveloped her.
But that wasn’t why she screamed. She could feel the pain, she could feel the shadows as they pressed out of the long-since closed wounds. She screamed because the only place left, away from the pain, was herself, who she was before she was born here again, and she remembered where she earned these scars in the first place.
It scared her, a fear primal, solitary and virulent. She was afraid of herself.
…
It wasn’t long before she final could force herself to move. Little by little, encroaching slowly, painstakingly, she propped her naked body up against one of the mighty oaks. It was there that the voice finally spoke to her. It wasn’t audible. All sound was blocked. The forest, wherever it resided, was silent. No leaves rustled. There was no wind. There was no sun, only sharpened creeping umbrage. Shadows within shadows.
The voice spoke in her mind, playing on the backdrop as the images of her past arrayed themselves before Antumbra in her mind. She remembered them, but they were not memories of her as far as she could tell, rather as far as she could hope.
The sound cascaded slowly like a creeping glacier as it roamed up inside her consciousness. It spoke, a voice ancient and dominating, powerful, deep, thrumming like an everlasting bass chord. It asked her, “what is your name?”
“I don’t know,” she replied.
“You do,” it answered in return, “but you don’t dare speak it.”
“It’s not me. I remember these things, but they’re somebody else’s memories, not mine. I know the name of the woman who did these things, nothing more.” Tears welled up on the sides of her face, splashing on her naked corpulence. As the tears fell the shadows danced, moving with sentient initiative to dodge them where they landed, reassuming their ugly forms straight again after.
“She is you, yet she is not you,” it spoke, softly. “These are both your memories, and the memories of a woman who is far past. These are both your scars and the scars of a woman who died in the throes of passion.”
“I am not her!" Her voice was pitched with caustic indignation, reaching out, trying to find the entity that resided within her in her. “Who are you?! What do you want with me?”
Impossibly, its voice grew louder, thicker, pouring into every fold of her mind, obscuring the memories in the deepest of hazes. “I am the shadow that looms over Golarion. I am the greatest darkness cast by the darkest light. I am the entity that only exists as a mirage, forever there, but visible only to those that watch the sun as it sets across the world. I am the Umbra, and soon darkness will fall.”
She stared, eyes and mouth agape as the words undulated through her imagination. Her vision was gone, removed from the forest. “But why me? How did I come here?"
Her voice was soft, pleading. She felt herself, her past, and her at the present and she realized she was not the forgone woman in her nightmares. She was somebody different, but she did not have a name.
"I know how I... she died, but where did I come from? I…”
The Umbra’s voice was soft, quiet, but spoke with an intensity that stopped all of her questions immediately. “Where there is no light there is no shadow. Soon the world may be bathed in darkness. This must be stopped. You will help stop it.”
“But what is it that I must stop? You have told me nothing, and I’m lost and alone. Please, just tell me what I have to do!”
“You will learn in time,” it said to her, its voice trailing off into the darkness, reaching from the antumbra, the penumbra and into the deepest recesses of the umbra.
“Do not despair. You will not be alone.”
…
The voice was gone, as were the shadows. Antumbra looked up to see the leaves finally moving, the wind picking up fallen leaves that danced in circles above her head, catching the light of the sun as it began its descent. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a tiny black object swooping down from the trees.
She felt a surge of pain as it landed on the scar tissue near and around her breasts, digging its talons deep into the grievous wounds. She reached over to pet the raven. “I’ll call you Sol. Do you like that name, Sol?”
The raven cocked its head to the side, eyes affixed at her unblinking.
Appearance:
Antumbra is a beautiful Elf by almost every account. Her eyes are an intense grey with speckles of black dotting the pupils. Her hair is a ghostly color, blue-grey, that catches sunlight, seeming almost to absorb it, darkening the area about her ever just slightly so that she appears ever so slightly apart from this plane.
Her regalia is odd for an Elf however. Sticking not to any sort of fashion sense her dress seems rather haphazard and ill looked after. The clothing is bundled so as to cover every inch of her body from her chest to her legs.
Underneath is a latticework of scars that could make even the most hardened, battle-worn warrior cringe at the sight. It appears like no creature should have been able to survive the gashes accumulated across her entire body, and the appearance, whenever glanced upon by any normal man, woman or child, is almost enough sometimes to make them flee in terror.
Antumbra tries to keep the scars covered whenever possible.
Goals:
The even of her birth happened six years ago to date. Without a name to go by, she picked up the name Antumbra, never daring to share her name, her other name, her body’s true name, out of fear of what her past life’s mention will reap. She has since roamed the countryside of the Inner Sea, learning more of what task her shadow patron had designed for her, and what it meant by the darkness that will fall. In the meantime Antumbra has worked to study the strange arcane powers gifted to her, working through Sol to attempt to discover the inner-recesses of her capabilities.
Her vigil was bestirred at the mention of “the blot” a large dark cloud looming over Riddleport at the northern end of the Lost Coast of Varisia. Her contact there, “BLANK,” a friend she met far back in the beginning of her travels, has offered to keep her safe at her arrival. Hoping that this might finally be the key to unlocking the mysteries surrounding her revival, as well as dreading too what she might find there, Antumbra prepares to venture into the crime-ridden hive of Riddleport.
Crunch:
Antumbra CR 1/2
Female Elven Witch 1
NG Medium Humanoid (Elf)
Init +3; Senses Perception +3
--------------------
DEFENSE
--------------------
AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 10. (+3 Dex)
hp 6 (1d6+0)
Fort +0, Ref +3, Will +3
--------------------
OFFENSE
--------------------
Spd 30 ft.
Melee: Rapier +0, (18-20/x2), P, 1d6
. .
. .
Ranged: Longbow +3, (x3), P, 100ft, 1d8 and
. . Dagger +3, (19-20/x2), P or S, 10ft, 1d4
Witch Spells Known (CL 1, -1 melee touch, 3 ranged touch):
1 (2/day) Hypnotism, Mage Armor, Dancing Lantern, Peacebond, Shadow Weapon, Ear Piercing Scream, Ray of Enfeeblement
0 (at will) All
--------------------
STATISTICS
--------------------
Str 8, Dex 16, Con 10, Int 18, Wis 12, Cha 13
Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 12
Feats: Eschew Materials
Traits: Forlorn(elf): You gain a +1 trait bonus on Fortitude saving throws.
Skill:
..........Attr...Full
Acrobatics Dex +3
Appraise Int +11
Bluff Cha +1
Climb Str -1
Craft (alchemy) Int +4
Craft ( ) Int
Craft ( ) Int
Diplomacy Cha +1
Disable Device Dex
Disguise Cha +1
Escape Artist Dex +3
Fly Dex +3
Handle Animal Cha
Heal Wis +1
Intimidate Cha +1
Knowledge(Arc) +8
Knowledge(His) +8
Knowledge(Nat)
Knowledge(Pla) +8
Linguistics Int
Perception Wis +3
Perform ( ) Cha +1
Perform ( ) Cha
Perform ( ) Cha
Profession ( ) Wis
Profession ( ) Wis
Ride Dex +3
Sense Motive Wis +1
Sl. of Hand Dex
Spellcraft Int +8
Stealth Dex +3
Survival Wis +1
Swim Str -1
U.Magic Device Cha +5
I just haven't been able to hammer young Saevio into shape, despite my best attempts (and today's headache didn't help). The whole Rage Domain, Furious Crusader-Cleric of Vengeance thing all merged well, but I just couldn't quite bring the character to life -- and realize we're past the deadline.
Okay folks, this wasn't easy. I could actually run two good groups with the submissions I was given, but I just don't have the time. so, without further ado...
They chose Brennan the Rogue. Congrats. I killed the thread you were on to get rid of backlogged posts. Didn't know how to let you know except for coming here. Sorry for intruding.
Go ahead and dott the main thread, jump in the discussion and we'll go from there.
