DaWay's Kingmaker pt 1 - Stolen Land (Inactive)

Game Master DaWay

Elara Kore, CG Tiefling Magus (Fiend Flayer) who uses whips.

Demons run when a good man goes to war.

So what happens when that good man's child is demon touched?

Elara Kore was born into one of the few ancestral families of Aasimar; a people who hid their celestial ancestry for their own protection, but nonetheless lived as good and holy a life as could be. Many members of the family chose to devote themselves to the life of a paladin, existing as a righteous warrior against the hellkind.

Elara's father, Boronius Kore, was patriarch of the family and a respected, powerful man, old but still as strong as fit as when he fought his battles not so long ago. For the sake of his family, he removed his weapon from his sheathe and placed it on his mantlepiece, vowing to never again take it up.

For ten seconds, Elara Kore's life was happiness and joy. She painlessly slid into the world with a happy gurgle, and looked up into the brightly smiling face of her proud father. Until he noticed that not one but two cords were attached to her.
One was a small, vestigial, but unmistakable tail.

Slowly the child began to cry as the ashen-faced father screamed at the ashen-faced mother, a furious storm of blame and guilt and shame. When it had abated, the father did not hesitate. He took his blade from the mantlepiece and struck that tiny tail from the child, eliciting a scream the sound of which he had not heard since his last battle. The child was wrapped up, and brought outside to be presented to the beaming family and showered with praise and congratulations as she writhed and screamed and her father's smile grew ever more frozen, and so did his soul inside.

Slowly, Elara grew up. To the rest of her family, she was the rarely seen, favoured daughter of the great patriarch war hero, Boronius- though sadly she had not inherited his strength.
In the private of their home, Elara's life was a special hell. Locked in a tiny closet in the basement for the tiniest misdeed or hint of non-aasimar behaviour, Boronius beat her with a rod that sparked lightning, taken from the torture-rooms of Cheliax as a long-lost trophy. Until its magic sparked something within Elara, releasing a storm of sparks from her that blew off the closet door.

After that, he simply beat her with a whip.

With every year Elara grew more intelligent, more fearful, and weaker due to constant malnourishment. Long ago exiled to her bedroom and maids by Boronius, her mother drank her way to forgetfulness each night and morn, no help to her daughter.

One day, her father seized on an idea and took the family to Cheliax in secret, to see a demon priest who claimed to be able to expel the demon within Elara. The priest chanted and fed her potions and forced her to breathe from choking-thing pots of smog and fire, scorching her inside and out until she finally fell to the altar, catatonic. Pronouncing her cured, she was given to her father and taken to their quarters for the night.

Behind those eyelids, her pupils dilated and shrunk and glowed and darkened- strange chemicals fought and pulsed within her, finally passing from her as the clock struck midnight, leaving her mind and twisting thoughts… reforged.

Slowly, the child- hardly a child, a woman of sixteen, though in her father's eyes always that same tailed baby- arose from her bed, a cloud of darkness rising with her. Silently, calmly, she strode through it and out the door, and into the night of Cheliax.

Tieflings are not held in high esteem in Cheliax. Hated and feared even more than is usual for demonspawn, they were herded and collected and locked up hundreds of a time in great slave pens scattered across the city, bound by arm, leg, tail and horn, their only relief their days of servitude to their Chelaxian masters.

They were helpless before the onslaught of Elara's arcane lightning shining so beautifully terrible in her left hand, her father's whip catching the firelight along its edges.
Boronius, his sleeping mind hearing a sound, awoke, and turned around, the first smile in so so long springing to his lips as he expected to see a cured aasimar daughter, rising to meet him with light in his eyes.

Instead, he saw Elara, drenched in tiefling blood- the rosy red of the vein, the magisterial burgundy of the arteries clothing her body, her wild eyes staring up at her father. Slowly, she held out a hand to her father.

Tightly clasped within it were nearly five-and-ten-score of tiefling tails.

It took nearly fifteen minutes for Boronius to reassert himself into something resembling a person. A quarter of the clock spent, father and daughter staring at each other, one in desperate hope of approval, another just looking blankly at what his seed and hand had created.
"My… my daughter…" he breathed, the words coming forth so slowly. "What have you done?"
Just as ponderously, just as slowly, she responded. "I… I did it for you, father… the demon's tails, here, to bury mine away… I… I just hated them so much, hated being one of them, filthy stinking dying DYING BLOOD BURNING EATING creatures who ran so fast so fast who screamed who screamed trapped where they were locked up CAPTURED IMPRISONED CAUGHT TORMENTED and father father I… I just had to END them…"

And then a nameless dread filled Boronius, as he backed away and his mind filled with horror, shaking and clawing at his cheeks and neck and eye and body, pressing himself against the wall.
"You… you are not my daughter… I knew it I KNEW IT!" He roared out, pain and shame mingling with her screams. "YOU CANNOT BE! I WOULD NOT DO THIS ONE OF MY BLOOD COULD NOT DO THIS!"
And with that, Elara's mind imploded into darkness.

"Not your daughter…" echoed slowly through the emptiness of her consciousness as she shook and breathed as her father cowered before her.

Slowly, her head rose and she looked him straight in the eyes, her gaze piercing through the shields of pride and victory that guarded his innermost being.

"Not your daughter."
She spoke quietly, suddenly calmly, as if stating a fact.

"Not. Your. Daughter."
"NOT. YOUR. DAUGHTER."
"NOTYOURDAUGHTER!"
"NOTYOURDAUGHTER!NOTYOURDAUGHTER!NOTYOURDAUGHTER!"

With each scream, cry, howl, either and all she raised the tails and brought them down on her father as a whip, sparks from her free hand travelling across them as they bit deep into her father's skin, golden-yellow blood flowing freely as both father and daughter bellowed their pain into the night.

When finally the energy left her, Elara stopped. She dropped the tails, splaying them across the bloody pulp that was her father, and slowly walked out.
While it would be pleasant to think that Cheliax was thrown into an uproar at the night of slaughter for their slaves, that they renounced their ways and were truly horrified at the carnage, in truth life continued as normal, the carnage eventually just a slight reduction at the end of a balance sheet.

Elara Kore wandered the city and the land of Cheliax, eventually managing to forge some shell of something resembling sanity from the pain and hatred of that night. She spent her nights under the stars, training with the lightning and magic that she called to her palm and the string of tails she collected from her infrequent visits to the cities, striking at boulders with both. Her growing skills with the whip and the lightning within were matched by the growing expansion of her ruthless intellect, finally unchained and free to guide her.

Slowly, she developed an identity, and a goal.

Her father was wrong. Tieflings were not monsters or evil. Evil was what happened when one person was bound to another, slave to master. It brought things from people. Turned them.
Bonds from soul to soul were important. They could bring out the best they had to bring out the best they had to bring out something other than what came out of his pain and anger and… everything. Bonds had to be treasured. Bonds had to be protected.
And she had to atone for what her father had made.
Slowly and steadily she arose, wrapped her father's whip up and attached it to her belt. It would remind her. To keep control. To never be a master.
To not be his daughter.

Elara CR6
Tiefling Magus (Fiend Flayer)
Init +4; Senses Darkvision, Perception +6

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DEFENSE
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AC 19, touch 14 (+5 dex, +5 armor)
HP 35

?Fort +7, Ref +7, Will +5

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OFFENSE
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Speed 30ft

?Melee
Intelligent Scorpion Whip (+1) +11 (1d4-1)
Ego: 2
Senses: 30ft
Communication: Empathy
Power: True Strike 3x per day
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STATISTICS
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Str 7, Dex 21, Con 14, Int 18, Wis 10, Cha 7
Base Atk +4; CMB +2); CMD 19

?Feats: Intensified Spell, Weapon Finesse, Weapon Focus, Whip Mastery

?Skills : Acrobatics +11, K. Arcana +13, K. Planes +13, Perception +6, Spellcraft +13, Stealth +13

?Languages Common, Abyssal, Infernal, Elven, Goblin, Draconic

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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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Arcane Pool
Infernal Mortification
Spell Combat
Spellstrike
Arcana: Accuracy
Arcana: Concentration

Fiendish Resistance
Skilled
Soul Seer
Darkvision

Heirloom Weapon
Magical Lineage
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SPELLS
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Spells prepared:
Read Magic 0
Mage Hand 0
Dancing Lights 0
Arcane Mark 0
Detect Magic 0
Shocking Graspx4 1
Shield 1
Enlarge Person 1
Mirror Image 2
Bear’s Endurance 2
Invisibility 2

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GEAR
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GP 875

Belt O' Dex 4000
Headband o' Int 4000
Intelligent Whip 3700
Mithral Shirt 1100
Pearl of Power lvl1 1000
Cloak of Resistance 1000
Wand of Infernal Healing 750
General Equipment 19

Tying together a shattered land is something she sees as an excellent way to repent for what her father did and drove her to do. She also has thoughts of possibly making a land or a city or some such thing for Tieflings to live.

Background

When Morgrym was a child he felt the call to defend his homeland. When he was a young dwarf he felt the call of the forge. When those around him started looking for a wife, he felt the call of Torag. For years he toiled, first as a soldier, then as an apprentice smith, then as a journeyman smith, and finally as a cleric of Torag. On the night he was to become a full member of the clergy of Torag he felt another call - a call to take the wisdom and power of the Dwarves into the outside world. Hearing the voice of his god, he left immediately.

He headed out of the mountain and into Brevoy. He sought to join with an expedition into the Stolen Lands, but was rejected at every turn for some reason, much to his confusion - or as Grym put it ”What’s wrong with you stupid morons, can’t you see you need me?”.

Finally he headed off into the wilds of the Stolen lands by himself. Here he met a merry bunch of freedom fighters who welcomed his tool laden (if dour) self. Nicknaming him Grym they assured him the most useful thing he could do was help arm, armour and train them against the evil and oppressive government of the Brevoy. Victory followed victory, until finally the group captured a prisoner.

Grym was curious enough to talk to the prisoner privately, and was chagrined to discover that the “captured prisoner” was in fact a kidnapped eight year old grandchild of house Surtova, and his freedom fighter friends were in fact bandits and had (again in Grym’s words) ”Played me like a bloody stupid sucker”.

Resolving to do the right thing Grym re-captured the girl and took her back to Surtova, where he walked straight into the Surtova hall and handed her back. The grateful Surtovan lord quickly found Grym grating, and learning that he was still seeking to subdue the stolen lands pulled some strings and had Grym attached to the fateful expedition.

Grym is loyal, forthright, brave, courageous, intelligent, a true friend and quite possibly one of the most irritating individuals ever born. He believes brutal honesty to be a virtue, politeness to be lying and that the mark of real friends is that they can call each other friendly insults. Combined with his slight racial bias and recently acquired suspiciousness Grym can be a difficult dwarf to spend a lot of time with

Dwarven Cleric (Forgemaster) 1
Str 14 (14=5pts)
Dex 12 (12=2pts)
Con 16 (14=5pts, +2 racial)
Wis 15 (13=3 pts, +2 racial)
Int 14 (14=5pts)
Cha 6 (8=-2pts, -2 racial)
BAB +0
HP = 12 (8+1 favoured + 3 con)
Defence 11 (10 base +1 dex)
Fort: +5 (+2 base +3 con)
Ref: +1 (+0 base +1 dex)
Will: +4 (+2 base +2 wis)
Racial Traits
Base Speed: (Slow and Steady) Dwarves have a base speed of 20 feet, but their speed is never modified by armor or encumbrance.
Defensive Training: Dwarves gain a +4 dodge bonus to AC against monsters of the giant subtype.
Hardy: Dwarves gain a +2 racial bonus on saving throws against poison, spells, and spell-like abilities.
Stability: Dwarves gain a +4 racial bonus to their Combat Maneuver Defense when resisting a bull rush or trip attempt while standing on the ground.
Craftsman: Dwarves are known for their superior craftsmanship when it comes to metallurgy and stonework. Dwarves with this racial trait receive a +2 racial bonus on all Craft or Profession checks related to metal or stone. This racial trait replaces greed.
Stonecunning: Dwarves gain a +2 bonus on Perception checks to notice unusual stonework, such as traps and hidden doors located in stone walls or floors. They receive a check to notice such features whenever they pass within 10 feet of them, whether or not they are actively looking.
Darkvision: Dwarves can see perfectly in the dark up to 60 feet.
Hatred: Dwarves gain a +1 racial bonus on attack rolls against humanoid creatures of the orc and goblinoid subtypes because of their special training against these hated foes.
Weapon Familiarity: Dwarves are proficient with battleaxes, heavy picks, and warhammers, and treat any weapon with the word “dwarven” in its name as a martial weapon.
Traits
Defensive Strategist (Torag)
Glory of Old (Regional)
Hedge Magician (Magic)
Brigand (Campaign)
Feats
Breadth of Experience: +2 to all professions and knowledges, and can treat as trained
Languages
Skills:
Craft (Armor) +6 (+3 trained, +1 rank, +2 int)
Craft (Weapons) +6 (+3 trained, +1 rank, +2 int)
Knowledge Religion +8 (+3 trained, +1 rank, +2 int +2 feat)
Spellcraft+6 (+3 trained, +1 rank, +2 int)
Languages: Dwarven, Common, Terran, Undercommon
Gear: = 230 (130 rolled, +100 brigand)
Breastplate (200gp) 200
Heavy Pick (8gp) 208
Wooden Shield, Heavy (7 gp) 215
Backpack (2) 217
Holy Symbol, iron (5) 222
spell component pouch (5) 227
Cooking Kit (3 gp) 230
Spells:
0 (3/at will)
1: (2+animate rope/day)

Variant #2
Dwarven Fighter (Unbreakable) 1
Str 14 (14=5pts)
Dex 12 (12=2pts)
Con 16 (14=5pts, +2 racial)
Wis 15 (13=3 pts, +2 racial)
Int 14 (14=5pts)
Cha 6 (8=-2pts, -2 racial)
BAB +1
HP = 13 (10 + 3 con)
Defence 11 (10 base +1 dex)
Fort: +5 (+2 base +3 con)
Ref: +1 (+0 base +1 dex)
Will: +2 (+0 base +2 wis)
Racial Traits
Base Speed: (Slow and Steady) Dwarves have a base speed of 20 feet, but their speed is never modified by armor or encumbrance.
Defensive Training: Dwarves gain a +4 dodge bonus to AC against monsters of the giant subtype.
Hardy: Dwarves gain a +2 racial bonus on saving throws against poison, spells, and spell-like abilities.
Stability: Dwarves gain a +4 racial bonus to their Combat Maneuver Defense when resisting a bull rush or trip attempt while standing on the ground.
Craftsman: Dwarves are known for their superior craftsmanship when it comes to metallurgy and stonework. Dwarves with this racial trait receive a +2 racial bonus on all Craft or Profession checks related to metal or stone. This racial trait replaces greed.
Stonecunning: Dwarves gain a +2 bonus on Perception checks to notice unusual stonework, such as traps and hidden doors located in stone walls or floors. They receive a check to notice such features whenever they pass within 10 feet of them, whether or not they are actively looking.
Darkvision: Dwarves can see perfectly in the dark up to 60 feet.
Hatred: Dwarves gain a +1 racial bonus on attack rolls against humanoid creatures of the orc and goblinoid subtypes because of their special training against these hated foes.
Weapon Familiarity: Dwarves are proficient with battleaxes, heavy picks, and warhammers, and treat any weapon with the word “dwarven” in its name as a martial weapon.
Traits
Defensive Strategist (Torag)
Glory of Old (Regional)
Hedge Magician (Magic)
Brigand (Campaign)
Feats
Breadth of Experience: +2 to all professions and knowledges, and can treat as trained
Endurance
Diehard
Languages
Skills:
Craft (Armor) +6 (+3 trained, +1 rank, +2 int)
Craft (Weapons) +6 (+3 trained, +1 rank, +2 int)
Knowledge Religion +8 (+3 trained, +1 rank, +2 int +2 feat)
Spellcraft+6 (+3 trained, +1 rank, +2 int)
Languages: Dwarven, Common, Terran, Undercommon
Gear: = 280 (180 rolled, +100 brigand)
Breastplate (200gp) 200
Battleaxe (10gp) 210
Steel Shield, Heavy (20 gp) 230
Tools (Armour) (5) 235
Backpack (2) 237
Holy Symbol, iron (5) 242
spell component pouch (5) 247

Growing up in Daggermark is rough on anyone, let alone when you're the only son of a disgraced Chelish Hellknight on the run from his order and you don't know your mother. It was made clear to Urah from a very young age that no one was to know about his origins or his father's former occupation.

Living in the shadiest, poorest parts of town the both of them made their money as messenger for the more important people of the city. It was a relatively safe job as long as you knew to hand over the message fast and then be gone, whether it was to the target to to some brigands that awaited you in an alley. Still not all of them would let you just slip away so learning to evade blows and dole them out yourself was essential.

As Urah grew older he became better at what he did and the brigands started leaving him alone, just like they did with his father, who had killed dozens of thugs over the years. Eventually this prowess and skill earned Urah the position of private messenger for a member of Daggermark's Poisoner's guild. The old man knew his way around venom but his frail body was incapable of taking any punishment whatsoever. As the gangs who first only attacked the alchemist when he was outdoors started to become more brash and actually broke into his house the man decided to hire Urah as his bodyguard, and on Urah's request also as his apprentice.

Only 15, Urah took quickly to the work as an alchemist and soon was able to make simple poisons and other extracts. His progress was fast and his mentor was pleased. All of was cut short when his father's order had finally traced him down and the both of them had to flee the city. Urah said his goodbye to his mentor, who then decided to move to the Guild's headquarters for his own safety, and left town with his father, fleeing North.

After months of detours, evading bandits and stealing what they needed while following the Sellen river they came upon a their destination: The fortress of the Bloodstone Swords, a mercenary group Urah's father had heard of while working in Daggermark. He planned for both of them to join the company in an attempt to evade the Hellknights. Less than happy with his father's choice Urah stayed around for several weeks before packing his bags and leaving in the middle of the night.

He travelled north, to the city of Restov. Once there he found himself a local apothecary and became his apprentice, though Urah's skill far outstripped the man where it concerned anything but simple tonics and supposed love potions. Once he settled in he wrote his father a letter about where he was and why he left, figuring he'd at least owe it to his father to let him know he's safe. A few weeks later he received a letter but not from his father. The letter had come from the Daggermark Poisoner's Guild. In it they told Urah how they had tracked him down via his father and about an opportunity they had for him. Soon the Brevoy nobles would sound a call for brave souls to venture into and colonize the Stolen Lands. The Guild wanted him to join them and assure their presence there so they could gain a gateway into Brevoy. Fed up with his dull job Urah immediately returned his answer: Yes, I'll secure a place for us in the Stolen Lands.