GM Bigrin's Giantslayer (Inactive)

Game Master bigrin42

Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 190lb

You see a well-groomed dwarven woman with honey-blonde hair loosely gathered into several braids. Her eyes are a deep blue, with small flecks of silver near the iris. Her skin is fair and pale. She has small freckles on her nose, high cheek bones, and a strong jaw. She is dressed in scalemail armor, with a rust-brown cloak. She holds an enormous longhammer, with a broad double-head at the end of a 15-foot haft. You also notice wicked spikes on her gauntlets and several chakram gathered at her belt. She is tall for a dwarf, with a solid frame and straight posture.

Yelena leads business interactions with a no-nonsense attitude that she inherited from her father. Social interactions are another matter. She tends to be loud, boisterous, and quite forward. She enjoys hard fighting, hard drinking, and hard loving. She is loyal and courageous to those who have her friendship - while terrible and vindictive to those who attack or betray her. She has a special weakness for mead and honey rolls, and has been known to crack a skull or two when someone asked her why she didn't have a beard.

Yelena's family traces its lineage to dwarven city of Glimmerhold. Her clan forefathers found ready work as mercenaries, campaigning during the harsh winters and returning in the spring with bounties for their family. This established a tradition of sorts, with each passing generation choosing whether to take up the mantle of 'coin-sword.'
Her father, Ilya, initially chose a different route, gaining an apprenticeship under the local cleric of Torag. Filled with piety, yet quickly finding the monastic lifestyle to lack stimulation, he swore fealty to the Godsmith as a cleric to take his faith to the world outside as a holy warrior. After several years of successful service with a mercenary company, he struck out on his own as an independent operator.

His travels brought him to Lastwall, where he was hired to guard a merchant convoy. He had every intention of continuing on through Belkzen to smash a few orc skulls when they stopped in Trunau and he met Dagda. She was a young dwarven lass with honey-blonde hair - a refugee from a convoy that had been attacked by raiders while crossing the plains, and had sought refuge in the town. It took only one evening of conversation at the Ramblehouse Inn to convince him to break his contract with the merchant caravan and settle down in Trunau with her.

Several years later, Ilya and Dagda had a child they named Yelena. She took after her father's line, and was unusually tall and proportioned like a human compared to other dwarves. She was raised with the traditions of her parents, taking Torag as her patron deity and swearing her service to his faith. She found ready work in the Clamor, and under the watchful eye of Sara Morninghawk becamea journeyman smith. She fashioned her own weapon, an enormous dwarven weapon known as a 'longhammer', that fit her prodigious size and strong hands. She fills her days with hard work at the smithy, training with the town guard, and finding joy in spending time with family and friends.

(Wanderlust) Yelena is coming of age, and despairs that she won't be able to find a suitable dwarven husband by waiting around until the right caravan comes around. Her parents protest any mention of traveling to Janderhoff or Glimmerhold due to the danger of orc raiders, but Yelena is getting pretty frustrated and loathes the idea of being a spinster. She wants to find a husband and bring him back to Trunau, one way or another, even if the groom needed 'convincing.'

(Revenge) Yelena's parents are her best friends, yet her mother keeps her past silent. Yelena knows that several of her aunts and uncles were among those in the caravan, and died in the attack by orc raiders that left her mother a refugee. Despite her boisterous and friendly demeanor, Yelena broods over her mother's pain, and plots to someday find the orc tribe responsible and make them pay.

(Prestige) Yelena is fiercely protective of Trunau, and pushes herself at the forge and in the drill yard. She wants to be Chief Defender someday, and while Halgra does an admirable job, Yelena cannot help but hope that some day such an honor and responsibility might be hers.

"Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!"

"Alright. Alright! Just hold on..." Yelena was past tipsy at this point. Her speech was slurred, and it took an enormous amount of focus to keep from spilled her mug. It was her ninth, by count of the tally on the slate, and her stomach was beginning to protest the volume of liquid she was ingesting in addition to the effects of alcohol on her mind. "When I beat you, you mouthy little horse-apple, I'm gonna enjoy spending your money!"

I can't let that gods-damned ponce win. A gnomish merchant, a pretentious little man with a snooty name and an even more snooty hat, had had the gall to declare that any gnome worth his salt could drink a dwarf under the table. "They lack the conviction, you see. Their minds are stunted from generations underground. I'm surprised they can even spell their own language correctly." She was having none of that, jest or not.

Nine drinks. Ten drinks. Just when she thought she could take no more, Little Lord-Fancypants slumped over the table in a drunken stupor. She stood unsteadily to the cheer of townsfolk, grabbed their mutual bets from the center of the table, and went to sit in a corner to avoid embarrassing herself. She had only a few moments of peace before a thick hand clapped her on the shoulder. "Good job, lass! That'll show the little prick what's for!" It was a dwarf, an old, old veteran who turned to mercenary work for easy money. He was covered in scars and dented armor, and was escorting the now unconscious Little Lord-Fancypants. "I've wanted to stuff his mouth for a fortnight, but he's my employer. So what're ya going to do?" He sat down heavily across from her, the smell of his mug of mead making her queasy. "So what brings a respectable dwarven lass like you to this tiny burg?"

"I was born her, ser." Even drunk, her parents had drilled respect for the elderly into her skull at an early age. "My dad's from Glimmerhold and my mom's from Janderhoff. They met here and had me." She rested her face in her hands, hoping that she wouldn't vomit later.

"Izzat so? But is it hard not being raised surrounded by good, clean earth and stone? Say now," he took a closer look at a pendant hanging on Yelena's neck. "That's a sigil of the Godsmith! And not an everyday one either. You a cleric?"

"Stonelord, actually." Taking deep breaths was helping. "I was never much for magic."

The old dwarf smiled in pride. "You must do your parents proud, lass. It would warm my heart to see one of my children take up such a noble calling. They're good folk n'all. Mushroom farmers and seamstresses. Do you work the forge?"

Yelena looked up and gave him a skeptical raise of her eyebrow. "Do bears crap in the woods? Of course I work the forge. I made my own longhammer."

"My, my, aren't you full of surprises in this hole-in-the-wall."

A sudden clamor rose from the other tavern patrons. "Yelena! Yelena!" It was the stable-boy, Mayth.

"What is it? Can't I be drunk in peace?"

"The gnome is awake! He's says he's not done yet!"

Yelena slammed her fist on the table, causing the old dwarf to jump. "WHAT!? HE WANTS MORE!?" Her drunkenness was gone in an instant, replaced by anger and pride. She strode back and thumped herself into the chair. "All right, boys and girls! It's time to see if this stuffed-shirt can put his money where his mouth is! POUR ME ANOTHER!"

Roseline

Female Half-Orc Cleric of Gozreh 1
CN Medium Humaniod (Human, Orc)
Init +0; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +4
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Defense
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AC 13, touch 10, flat-footed 13 (+3 armor)
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +3, Ref +0, Will +7
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee
Shortspear +0 (1d6+1/x2)
Ranged
Sling +0 (1d4+1/x2)
Special Attacks channel positive energy 5/day (DC 13, 1d6); storm burst +0 (7/day, 1d6); enlarge (7/day)
Cleric Spells Prepared (CL 1st; concentration +5)
..1st - Bless, Divine Favor, Enlarge Person[D]
..0 (at will) - Create Water, Mending, Purify Food and Drink (DC 14)
..D Domain Spell; Domains Growth, Weather

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Statistics
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Str 12, Dex 11, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 14
Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 11
Feats Selective Channeling
Traits Sacred Conduit, Trunau Native
Skills Diplomacy +6, Profession (farmer) +8
Languages Common, Orc
SQ aura, orc blood, weapon familiarity
Combat Gear Shortspear, Sling with 30 sling bullets, potion of cure light wounds, scroll of remove fear, scroll of delay poison;
Other Gear backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, candle (10), flint and steel, holy text, masterwork dagger, mess kit, pot, rope (50 ft), soap, spell component pouch, studded leather, torch, trail rations (5), wooden holy symbol, 8 gp, 7 sp

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Special Abilities
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Channel Energy (SU): Positive energy heals the living and harms the undead; negative has the reverse effect.
Darkvision Half-orcs can see in the dark up to 60 feet.
Enlarge (Su): As a swift action you can enlarge yourself for 1 round, as if you were the target of the enlarge person spell. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Wisdom modifier.
Intimidating Half-orcs receive a +2 racial bonus on Intimidate skill checks due to their fearsome nature.
Orc Blood: Half-orcs count as both humans and orcs for any effect related to race.
Orc Ferocity: Once per day, when a half-orc is brought below 0 hit points but not killed, she can fight on for one more round as if disabled. At the end of her next turn, unless brought to above 0 hit points, she immediately falls unconscious and begins dying.
Sacred Conduit: Your birth was particularly painful and difficult for your mother, who needed potent divine magic to ensure that you survived (your mother may or may not have). In any event, that magic infused you from an early age, and you now channel divine energy with greater ease than most. Whenever you channel energy, you gain a +1 trait bonus to the save DC of your channeled energy.
Storm Burst (Sp): As a standard action, you can create a storm burst targeting any foe within 30 feet as a ranged touch attack. The storm burst deals 1d6 points of nonlethal damage + 1 point for every two cleric levels you possess. In addition, the target is buffeted by winds and rain, causing it to take a –2 penalty on attack rolls for 1 round. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Wisdom modifier.
Trunau Native: You were born and raised in the town of Trunau, one of the few human settlements in the orc dominated Hold of Belkzen. Orc attacks are an ever-present threat, and like all Trunauans, you have made the Standing Vow: to hold Trunau against all attackers, orc or otherwise, to stand your ground, and to live free or die trying. Upon coming of age, you were given a hopeknife—a small, sheathed dagger, usually worn on a chain under your clothes—and taught how to use it to take your own life to avoid capture by orcs, or to grant the mercy of a quick death to the wounded. As a native, you have served in Trunau’s militia, and fought alongside Patrol Captains Kurst and Rodrik Grath. You begin play with a hopeknife (a masterwork dagger), and your tenacity in the face of adversity grants you a +1 trait bonus on Will saves
Weapon Familiarity: Half-orcs are proficient with greataxes and falchions and treat any weapon with the word "orc" in its name as a martial weapon.

There are three things all Trunau natives fear: Orc raids, famine, and the anger of Roseline Groundsower. Born in the heart and chaos of a terrible storm, Roseline has always been considered by the townsfolk as a personal storm herself. As young as three, she felt more at home in the fields of Trunau, than the training drills she endured. Raised only by her mother, Rose's life should have been that of a simple townsfolk who married young and raised her children under the looming threat of orc raids. However that was not the case.

When Roseline was young, she lost her temper against a childhood bully who was teasing her about not having a father. She accidentally summoned a lightening storm, which struck the boy. He was fine, however the manifested power required the Council of Defenders to step in. After several long weeks, The council found her to not be a threat, but she would need to learn how to control her abilities. Everyday for five years Roseline was sent to mediate with Silvermane, the local druid who watched over the Hopespring.

While Silvermane did not say anything to Roseline, she did learn how to control her aggressive tendencies, instead turning that destructive prowess into a green thumb. Most anything that Roseline plants grows significantly larger than other plants from the same harvest. As such, Roseline makes a nice living off being a farmer.

Roseline is a sweet half-orc with an effusive love of the world. She is excited to play matchmaker for her friends and dreams of the day that she'll find her true love. Life in general delights her, and Roseline is quick to heal any injuries that she sees, even if she doesn't know the person. The village council has had to bring her before them to ask her to stop bringing dangerous (but injured) animals to Trunau to nurse back to health, but she continues to do so to this day. One of her recent pets, and Owlbear she discovered and raised, lives outside Trunau and she visits him as time permits. Her sweetness has gotten her in trouble before, as newcomers take her heritage as a sign of danger.

Her sweetness carries a rage of its own, and she is equally quick to jump to defend the innocent or, more important, inflict punishment on those that take advantage of and injure others. Once she had determined that someone has crossed a line, be it through animal abuse or bullying, she does not stop before she considers justice having been served, despite the best efforts at times of her friends. During these times, she is unstoppable as the rivers that flow through the land, and in some cases has spent years attempting to exact her particular brand of justice.

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Lira sat quietly at a table in a dark corner of the tavern. She had recently come into town for supplies and felt that a mug of ale would hit the spot. Finally, the barmaid arrived at her table with her drink in hand. As she set the drink down on the table she noticed the longbow laid out across the young dwarf’s lap, which she though was somewhat odd.

”Excuse me, miss…? I’m sorry, but I don’t think you mentioned your name yet.”

Lira looked up at the barmaid. After a moment of staring at her, Lira muttered quietly, “Lira, Lira Stormgem,” before grasping the mug and taking a large swig of the frothy ale.

The young barmaid stared blankly for a moment before continuing her thought. ”I see you have a bow. Ne’er see a dwarf with one of those too often. Pardon me for prying, but what do you happen to do for a living?” the young barmaid inquired.

”Hunting,” Lira responded curtly.

”Oh… well, if you’re a hunter, what do you intend to hunt?” replied the barmaid, not skipping a beat.

”Giants,” came another curt reply. Lira looked up at the barmaid with a raised eyebrow. ”Do ya always ask so many questions of your customers?”

The barmaid smiled broadly. ”Oh yes. I love hearing about where visitors come from and where they’ve been. Speaking of which, what brings you to our little town?” the barmaid asked cheerfully, not put off by Lira’s dour mood in the least.

Lira stared at the barmaid for a moment, trying to gauge her intentions. Seeing no ill intent her line of reasoning, Lira decided to humor the young barmaid. ”I’ve just come from Janderhoff and was stopping by for supplies. I’m only passing through.”

”Oh, that’s the dwarven city, right? Did you grow up there?” the barmaid asked innocently.
Lira’s face went sullen at the question. ”No… I’ve only lived there a few years. I grew up in a small village in the forest below the Mindspin Mountains.” She tightened her grip on her mug, causing her knuckles to turn white. “ My village was raided by giants years ago. I was the only one that survived, thanks to my da.” Lira looked down at the longbow in her lap, her one hand tracing the curves of its limbs.

The young barmaid watched for a moment as Lira sat there in silence. Without saying a word, she picked up the empty mug and brought a freshly filled one before leaving the dwarf alone in her thoughts.
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He will stay as an Inquisitor, honing his skills and focusing more on the archery side of things than casting. He will primarily be using his casting for personal buffs or the swift-action spells he gets later down the road, so he won't be a primary caster by any means.

Kaore generally wants to see people happy, and to him if they're not, then they should try something new. Variety is the spice of life, and he wants to help people achieve better lives, typically through helping them travel and experience new things. He doesn't really want to be honored or recognized for his actions, but what means more than anything to him is to be told that he really helped someone, and that he made a difference. He can come off as kind of a jerk every now and then(not like a antisocial person, just not great with people), but that's just because he's not used to being with people for long periods of time. He loves to be treated as a friend, and can be very loyal to people who take him seriously.

In the common room of the Ramblehouse, a green-hooded man sits at an empty stool, plops his boots upon the seat to his right, and raises his hand in the air, pointing to the surprised halfling beside him, May I get a round for my friend here? Hello good sir, I am Kaore, may I ask your name? Without stopping for breath, and while picking up the mug that he had just ordered for the still-befuddled halfling, he continues to speak without giving his companion a chance to interject, every now and then pausing to drink from the halfling's mug. I'm afraid that I'm new to the area, I just came in with a caravan last night, dreadfully nice people here but I'm afraid that I'll be gone before long. You see, I'm something of a vagrant, for I wander Golarion to ensure that trade and travel flows freely, and this is yet another stop on my endless journey. I've heard that there's some small conflict here, and so I've arrived to resolve the matter quickly to ensure that travel is an option to all who live here, should they choose to leave. But enough about me, tell me your story.

I've been playing PbP for 7-8 months now, and in that time I've participated in quite a few games. I also just started GMing a game for the first time, so I'd say that I have decent experience with PbP.

Character concept: Haskyll is a generally good person, and very loyal to those whom he considers a friend, but a terror to those he calls foes.
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Walking into the tavern, and pulling up a stool at the bar, he waves at the barmaid to gain her attention.

Once she brings him an ale, He removes his helmet exposing bright red stubble over his shaved head, which has the traceries of light scars running further back into the stubble.

The young barmaid looked at him. "I have never seen you before, where do ye come from" she inquires.

"Originally from Highhelm, here by way of Vigil." Haskyll responds, "Why do you ask"

"Highhelm" she exclaims, "Isn't that where all the dwarves live, so what brings you to town."

"Aye, a lot of dwarves live in Highhelm" Haskyll responds "But I arrived with the last arms caravan which come straight from the forges of Highhelm."
Taking a drink of the ale "and it seems that all the bandits in four kingdoms wanted those arms."
"Now please, I need to relax, and need time to think."

The tall figure, covered in furs sits on the outside of the inn, stretches a bearskin on the ground, gesturing for the other person to sit first. Behind him, a bird the size of a man is eating a mutton.

He starts speaking slowly, with short sentences, showing his ineptitute with the language.
"Please, sit. I saw your knife. It looks good. I have one too, from my first big hunt. Why do all people have knives on their necks in True-Now? I think it's better to put it on their belts."

He stops for a moment, thinking. "I was rude, sorry. Have some mammoth brew. The shaman said to always give people gifts in return." As his companion coughs from the strong, sour drink, Valax nods in agreement, then continues to talk.

"I noticed people looking at me with bad looks. It's probably because I'm an orc. But I'm from the Mammoth Lands. Shaman gave me a writ to give to people who say that I'm a bad orc. I can show it to you."

Without waiting for a response, Valax draws a scroll made of the thickest vellum imaginable, on which the pelt of a bear is drawn in dark red colour.

"My story, since you asked. Shaman called me and said, go to Belkzen, and see what is happening, and what the chieftains want to do. If orcs and men and giant-men want to go to a big war. I followed Shaman's orders, and left for the mountains. Mighty Kuldor is the mightiest, and I can be his eyes in this place, Shaman said! I left. When I was in the mountains, I found a cave. It was attacked by giant-men. An egg, this big, was in there. It had a crack in it, so I took it. Then I found him," gestures Valax to the giant monstrosity finishing the meat behind him.

"He was alone, and he needed a leader. So I thought, I can lead him, and he can be my follower." Valax drinks the ale like water, and frowns at the bitter taste, then apologises to his listener. The listener's eyes look at the several golden coins around Valax's neck, prompting a response from the orc.

"The shiny coins I got from the man on the small horse. My bird was in the air, and I ran to him to ask him about the nearest camp. I think he heard me, and he started leading the way, then I caught up with him. He told me to take the coins and leave him alive."

As his companion's trained Trunau reflexes reach for the dagger, Valax continues, in a slightly prouder tone. "I was happy, because it was shiny. I asked him where the town that is True-Now is, so I could go there. He pointed to sunset-place. I almost left, and then remembered Shaman's words. I gave the man with the small horse a gift in return, and said sorry. I hope he likes white sabrecat hide."

The companion's eyes widen, listening to the story of a man giving away a sabrecat skin, worth hundreds, for a string of about 10 coins. The orc continues.

"When I came to True-Now, I saw the spiky trees at the entrance. I knew that's what surrounds your camp. But how do you move your following when the prey moves in the colder season? Then the guards at the gate tried to shoot me with a bow on a stick. I said I have a writ that says I'm good, from shaman, so they all came and I gave them the writ. Then he said to give him 10 coins for a tribute to the guard, and he let me in the city. I then came here, because I saw a lot of people that look like chiefs." Valax finishes his drink and his story. "I have to go to see your following's leader and tell him about Mighty Kildor. Thank you for the drink, again."

Slate Feldspar
Sulis Bloodrager 1
Chaotic Good Medium Native Outsider (Sulis)
Deities: Gorum & Nethys
Age: 19
Height: 6’-5” Weight: 220lbs
Init +3; Senses low-light vision; Perception +1
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Defense
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AC 13, touch 11, flat-footed 12 (+1 Dex), AC(Rage) 11, touch 9, flat-footed 10
HP 13 (1d10+3), HP(Rage): 15
Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +1, Will(Rage) +3
Studded Leather Armor
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Offense
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Speed: 40 ft., Speed(Rage): 50 ft.

Special Attacks:
Elemental Assault (Su) [Acid]: Once per day as a swift action, a suli can shroud her arms in acid, cold, electricity, or fire. This lasts for one round per level, and can be dismissed as a free action. Unarmed strikes with her arms or hands (or attacks with weapons held in those hands) deal +1d6 points of damage of the appropriate energy type.
*While Blooraging - Elemental Strikes (Su): At 1st level, three times a day as a swift action you can imbue your melee attacks with elemental energy. For 1 round, your melee attacks deal 1d6 points of additional damage of your energy type.

Greataxe: Att: +5, Dmg: 1d12+6, Crit: x3
Greataxe: w/Power Attack: Att: +4, Dmg: 1d12+,9 Crit: x3
Greataxe: w/PA & Rage: Att: +6, Dmg: 1d12+12, Crit: x3
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Statistics
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Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 9, Wis 12, Cha 16
Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 16
Feats Power Attack
Traits Dwarf Trained, Dragonfoe
Skills Acrobatics +5 , Bluff +3, Climb +9, Diplomacy +5, Intimidate +3, Knowledge (arcana) +3, Perception +1, Spellcraft +3, Survival +1, Swim +4
Languages Sulis, Common
Other Gear 10(gp) 3(sp) 8(cp)
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Special Abilities
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Energy Strike (Su) [Earth]: A Suli with this racial trait has a stronger connection to one energy type than to the other three used by Sulis. Choose one energy type: acid, cold, electricity, or fire. The Suli's elemental assault ability can only deal energy damage of this type. The Suli has resistance 5 to this energy type and no racial resistance to the other three types. While her elemental assault is active, the Suli gains an additional ability based on the chosen energy type.
Earthfoot (acid): Whenever the Suli moves through difficult terrain related to earth and stone (rubble, mud, sand, and so on), she may move through 5 feet of that difficult terrain each round as if it were normal terrain. This allows the Suli to take a 5-foot step into that difficult terrain. Other kinds of difficult terrain (ice, caltrops, foliage, and so on) affect the Suli normally.
Energy Resistance 5: Sulis has resistance to acid 5.
Negotiator: Sulis are keen negotiators, and gain a +2 racial bonus on Diplomacy and Sense Motive checks.
Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in low light, distinguishing color and detail.

Bloodline [Elemental]: Each bloodrager has a source of magic somewhere in his heritage that empowers his bloodrages, bonus feats, and bonus spells. Sometimes this source reflects a distant blood relationship to a powerful being, or is due to an extreme event involving such a creature somewhere in his family's past. Regardless of the source, this influence manifests in a number of ways. A bloodrager must pick one bloodline upon taking his first level of bloodrager. Once made, this choice cannot be changed.

Bloodline Power when raging:
Earth Acid Burrow 30 feet
Bloodrage (Su): The bloodrager's source of internal power grants him the ability to bloodrage. At 1st level, a bloodrager can bloodrage for a number of rounds per day equal to 4 + his Constitution modifier. The total number of rounds of bloodrage per day is renewed after resting for 8 hours, although these hours need not be consecutive. 6/day

Fast Movement (Ex): A bloodrager's land speed is faster than is normal for his race by 10 feet. This benefit applies only when he is wearing no armor, light armor, or medium armor, and not carrying a heavy load. Apply this bonus before modifying the bloodrager's speed due to any armor worn or load carried. This bonus stacks with any other bonuses to the bloodrager's land speed.
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Gear: Backpack (2gp), Bedroll (1sp), Bell Net (2gp), Canteen (2gp), Flint & Steel (1gp), Grappling Hook (1gp), Grooming Kit (1gp), Hammer (5sp), 2x Iron Spike (10cp), Journal (10gp), Magnet (5sp), Miner’s Pick (3gp), 5x Pitons (5sp), Signal Whistle (8sp), Silk Rope (10gp), Sledge (1gp), Smoked Goggles (10gp), Weapon Cord (1sp), Whetstone (2cp), Explorer’s Outfit (3gp)

Background:
Slate Feldspar was left abandoned as an infant outside of the gates of Janderhoff on a dark night. He is the the offspring of a human and jann. His human mother was killed and his genie father deposited him at the front gates. A single note was left with Slate. It read: “Slate Feldspar son of the earth.” Found by a patrol that night, Slate was taken into the city where clerics of Torag communed with their god to find the meaning behind the words son of the earth.

After many hours of prayer a glimpse of Slates life was bestowed to the clerics. His deep connection to the earth was revealed and the dwarves of Janderhoff decided to adopt him as one of their own. As he grew he came to learn many things about himself including his innate ability to resist acid and understand the earth. The role of fighting came naturally to him yet he always felt attuned with the elements and that of magic. His anger though was always something the dwarves could not train out of him. They found that he could be as violent as a storm or as steady as the earth. His emotions always showing on him.

When he came of age Slate began making trading runs to Trunau. He acted as a guard for the caravans. Eventually Slate decided to leave Janderhoff and settle in Trunau, believing that he could hone his fighting ability against his peoples most hated foes, the orcs and denizens of the Mindspin Mountains. He now works as a guard in Trunau pulling his weight and earning his keep slaughtering the regions deadly foes. Slate works under Jagrin Grath and his sons. He fell in will them after showing off his fighting prowess on one particular raid. Slate also has begun talking to Agrit Staginsdar about the feelings he has inside having to do with magic. He also appreciates that someone else from Janderhoff resides within this town. He has though Agrit also started talking to Sara about her wares and has had her repair his greataxe in multiple occasions.

Appearance: Slate Feldspar stands 6’-5” and weighs 210lbs. His skin has a very dark quality to it with an almost hard rocky look even though his skin is not rough. He has brown eyes and his head is shaved. In honor of his adoptive parents Slate wears a neatly trimmed beard of pure black. Slate wears his emotions on his sleeve never truly able to hide how he is feeling. This comes from the torrent of elements within his body. Slate is steadfast and loyal when it comes to fighting. He will never leave a comrade behind even if it means giving his life. He holds a lot of the same beliefs that the dwarves hold however his choice in deities comes from his occupation and internal magical aptitude which has yet to be explored.

You pick 8 classes, 2 from each sub-grouping*(Assault,Skilled,Divine,Arcane) and you can't use the same class twice if it appears in more than one group.
you pick 4 Races.

I'll randomise the selection for both.

then you pick 4 archetypes, that you like.
I'll randomise it and the character's gender.

*Definitions
Assault = Full BAB, or 3/4 with combat boosting abilities.
Skilled = any class with 6 or 8 skill points per level.
Divine = Any class with divine magic or can cast Cure XX Wounds
Arcane = Any class with arcane magic (Alchemists are in this list)

*Classes in each group
Assault = Alchemist, Barbarian, Bard, Cavalier, Cleric, Druid, Fighter, Gunslinger, Magus, Monk, Paladin, Ranger.
Skilled = Bard, Inquisitor, Ranger, Rogue.
Divine = Bard, Cleric, Druid, Inquisitor, Oracle, Paladin, Ranger, Witch
Arcane = Alchemist, Bard, Magus, Sorcerer, Summoner, Wizard, Witch.

For all the fears of a life spent growing up in Trunau, it was the hopelessness of mundanity that bothered Rhiannon the most. A life of farming and fear, where the best she could be was safe in the comfort of her family's small farm, making enough for her own children--and her parents certainly wanted their only daughter to produce heirs to the plot that the family had worked her generations. Or a soldier, dying to protect her home and her friends. But for as much as Rhiannon found herself taken by stories of great heroes, she did not find romance in death.

She exhibited a budding magical talent at an early age, but one neither parent, lifelong farmers, could foster, or afford to foster, leaving her to merely experiment and atrophy away her potential as she intuited a few simple spells from what she could muster within herself, and some dusty old books on the subject she could find. Hardly enough to satisfy her steadily increasing thirst for knowledge, straddled somewhere between scholarly drive and mere curiosity. Soon, she wasn't merely reading books about magic, but anything she could get her hands on, fascinated in particular by artifacts, mythical items lost to time or turning in the hoard of some ancient dragon. The stories fascinated her, filling her minds with ideas of heroism and bravery very beyond her capabilities as a farm girl.

A farm girl who hated farming, one should note. She didn't feel particularly cut out for field work, although she certainly wasn't above the physical exertion of self-teaching herself swordplay and archery. Her passion did a great deal toward making combat training enjoyable, explained away to her parents as curiosity and the consideration of becoming a soldier. An absolute lie, of course. She wanted to be a hero. Wander the earth in search of treasure and glory, to herself be immortalized in story and song.

Song quickly became another interest of hers, as her voice came through. Sweet and stirring, earning her quite a few silver pieces when she spent her free time in the Commons, singing for the soldiers as they trained. She was told her voice was inspiring, and not merely because there were young men eager to impress the sweet-voiced girl with their martial prowess. Even those with no intentions toward the girl claimed that courage and drive welled up in their hearts as they heard her song, which put ideas and hopes into the girl's head. Heroes whose performances could stir greatness in warriors were hardly unheard of in stories, and perhaps she could find a career in that. Wandering the land, a bard for hire who could earn her way with her voice as much as her blade. Perhaps discovering lost relics, ending up in books herself as the discoverer of some long-forgotten treasure.

A pipe dream her parents would never let her pursue, as she came into adulthood and still found herself toiling away at the farm, given more freedom than a child but still shackled to her life and to expectations. To take a husband when she instead wanted to take journies, to harvest crops instead of seeking treasure. A disappointing life, but one she could clearly do little about, at least until the opportunity somehow presented itself.

Rhiannon is a flighty, optimistic young woman who tries to find a lot to be joyful of. Her upbringing in such a dour city under constant danger has left her trying to make the most out of life and find happiness wherever she can, hoping that in being cheerful she can inspire the same in others. Beyond her youthful, unstamped-out optimism is a shrewd trickster, hiding her cleverness behind innocence and a smile. If given an opening, she will exploit it, likely teasing whomever her poor victim is while she does. Even in the midst of combat, she can find time for laughter and whimsy.

Above all else, Rhiannon wants change. She's a wild spirit who simply won't be happy or fulfilled doing farm work. "Something different" is good enough for her. Being able to adventure, putting all her knowldge or her voice to work, would be the most desirable outcome. If she could become famed in song or discover something that could immortalize her legend, that would be the best. But she doesn't just want glory; by amassing riches, she hopes to not only escape farm life herself, but to help her family leave a life of fear and constant danger, set them up on a nice stretch of land far away from the threats of Orcish invasion that currently haunt them at every turn.

"I'm a Trunau lass through and through," Rhiannon says as she sits down with the passing stranger, who'd offered her a drink in exchange for tales after she'd finished her song. It wasn't rare for taverngoers to throw a token ale her way as payment, but few had ever been keen on hearing her own story, an admittedly boring one without any of the glory of those she sang about. Still, drinks were good, a repreieve from being on her feet and singing for meagre change. Change that certainly added up, and had given the girl quite a nice collection of weapons and books whenever traders came by, but it was difficult to look at the sack littered with a few coppers and the rare silver at the end of the day and feel like she was going anywhere. "As far up as my family tree's still living, we've all been here from birth, working the same soil and sleeping in the same beds. I'm the only child my parents have, only children themselves, and they want me to take the farm and a husband and continue the line."

"There isn't much interesting in farm life I can talk about, even in a city like Trunau with all its danger; for a songstress, I don't find danger as romantic as I should." She sipped at the ale, a little bit of a sardonic note that left her voice as she placed the flagon back down, replaced with a smile. "I want to see the world, though. A young lass like me doesn't want to be caged in a wheat field for the rest of my days or pressured into marrying before I've found someone I love. Everything I've read--which is every book in this village I can get my hands on and then some--just fills me with more wanderlust. Rolling fields of adventure and mystery, grand quests awaiting me at every corner. Dragons and devils and dastards to meet my blade and--" She cut herself off, realizing she was getting too worked up in her own reverie, cheeks bright red and eyes ride. "I guess danger's a little more romantic to me than I thought," she laughed.

She let the silence linger after that, for as silent as the tavern was at that hour. She continued to sip at her ale, keeping her smile wide even as she'd gotten a little too introspective to keep her spirits up particularly high. She should have embellished; her own story was rather dull and a little bit of a downer. "That's why I'm here singing my nights away instead of doing whatever it is other girls my age do in Trunau. Buying weapons and honing my skills with them, paying some of the locals to train me in their use even if I'm not a soldier. One day I'm going to make enough to pay my way on a trade caravan to anywhere else, and hopefully I'll find adventure when I do. But enough about me. Tell me about your kind self."

I've been a part of play-by-post games, whether structured or freeform, for about ten years now. As I'm only 24 that obviously involves a lot of terrible and embarrassing material in my teenage years, but it's a hobby I've grown with. More recently, I'm running a homebrew campaign and taking part in two APs on this forum at the moment.

Rhiannon Mableanbh - Bard 1
Neutral Good Medium Humanoid (Human Female)
Init +6; Perception + 3
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DEFENSE
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AC 14, touch 12, flatfooted 12 ( +2 Dex +2 Armor)
HP 9 (1d8 (8) + 1 Con)
Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +1
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OFFENSE
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee
-Rapier +2 1d6+1, 18-20/x2, P
-Dagger +2 1d4+1 19-20/x2 P/S
Ranged
-Shortbow +2 1d6 x3 P/B (+3 1d6+1 within 30 feet)
Spells Known
1st (2/day) DC 15: Cure Light Wounds, Grease
0th (infinite) DC 14: Dancing Lights, Ghost Sound, Mage Hand, Prestidigtation
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STATISTICS
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XP
Str 13, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 18 (16+2 racial bonus)
Base Attack +0; CMB 1; CMD 13
Feats: Improved Initiative, Point-Blank Shot
Traits: Historian, Artifact Hunter
Favoured Class: Bard (1 Skill Point)
Skills:
Acrobatics +6 (1 rank + 3 class skill +2 Dex)
Bluff +4 (+4 Cha)
Diplomacy +8 (1 rank + 3 class skill +4 Cha)
Climb +1 (+1 Str)
Disguise +4 (+4 Cha)
Escape Artist +2 (+2 Dex)
Heal -1 (-1 Wis)
Intimidate +8 (1 rank + 3 class skill +4 Cha)
Knowledge (Arcana) +7 (1 rank + 3 class skill +1 Trait +1 Int +1 Bard)
Knowledge (Dungeoneering) +3 ( +1 Trait +1 Int +1 Bard)
Knowledge (Geography) +3 ( +1 Trait +1 Int +1 Bard)
Knowledge (History) +3 ( +1 Trait +1 Int +1 Bard)
Knowledge (Local) +7 (1 Rank + 3 Class +1 Trait +1 Int +1 Bard)
Knowledge (Nature) +3 ( +1 Trait +1 Int +1 Bard)
Knowledge (Nobility) +3 ( +1 Trait +1 Int +1 Bard)
Knowledge (Planes) +3 ( +1 Trait +1 Int +1 Bard)
Knowledge (Religion) +3 (+1 Trait +1 Int +1 Bard)
Perception +3 (1 rank + 3 class skill -1 Wis)
Perform (Sing) +8 (1 rank + 3 class skill +4 Cha)
Ride +2 (+2 Dex)
Sense Motive -1 (-1 Wis)
Spellcraft +6 (1 rank +1 Trait +3 Class +1 Int)
Stealth +6 (1 rank + 3 class skill +2 Dex)
Swim +1 (+1 Str)
Survival -1 (-1 Wis)
Use Magic Device +5 (+1 Trait +4 Cha)
Languages: Common, Elven, Dwarven
Equipment: Leather Armor, Rapier, Shortbow, Dagger, Blunt Arrows (20), Masterwork Backpack, Hemp Rope, Thieves' Tools, Signal Whistle, Caltrops, Traveler's Outfit, Spell Component Pouch, Belt Pouch, Sack (4), Glass Vial (5)
Current encumberance: 56 1/2 lbs
Money: 22 gold, 5 silver
Carrying capacity: 58, 59-116, 117-175
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SPECIAL ABILITIES
------------------------------------------
-Class Abilities-
Bardic Performance: 8 rounds/day
Performances: Countersong, Distraction, Fascinate (DC 15), Inspire Courage +1
Bardic Knowledge +1

Dwarf
Half-Orc
Human
Orc

Assault - Barbarian/Fighter
Skilled - Hunter/Ranger
Divine - Druid/Shaman
Arcane - Bloodrager/Sorcerer

race: 4d100 ⇒ (95, 19, 66, 42) = 222 - dwarf
melee/skilled: 4d100 ⇒ (76, 98, 20, 96) = 290 - fighter
magic: 4d100 ⇒ (21, 8, 89, 57) = 175 - bloodrager
might/magic: 2d100 ⇒ (6, 100) = 106 - magic

Congratulations, you rolled a dwarf bloodrager!

Avari has taken the Trunua motto, "live free or die trying", deeply to heart. She is almost solely focused on the pursuit of strength and shows no mercy to those who threaten her home. As a result, many people find Avari to be humorless and a little obsessive. However, she is a loyal companion to those who earn her trust and steadfast defender of Trunua.

While she familiarized herself with the Elven language at her mother's insistence, Avari is not particularly proud of her elven heritage. Although she would likely never admit it, she still holds some resentment towards her father for irresponsibly leaving a pregnant woman in such a dangerous part on the world. While she doesn't always see eye to eye with her mother, she is also very protective of her. Her mother's presence in Trunua is Avari primary motivation for defending the settlement.

"No, thank you," Avari replies firmly, as the stranger offers her a drink. "You must be new in these parts. Let me give you some advice. Surrounding us right now are thousands of giants, orcs and other savage creatures that the light forgot." She hold up her tankard and demonstrates the clear liquid inside. "Surviving in Trunua means keeping your wits about you and always being ready for a fight."

"How long have I lived in Trunua? My whole life." Turning to face the man, Avari asks, "You want to know how to spot a Trunua native?" Grabbing the chain around her neck, she pulls out a single dagger and holds it out for the stranger to examine. "We all get these, when we come of age. It's meant to give us a fighting chance...or at least prevent us from getting captured..." she says, making a throat slitting gesture with the dagger.

"So, welcome to Trunua..." Avari says, clinking her tankard of water against his tankard of ale. "...and good luck."

Normal
Crossblooded Rager
Primalist
Spelleater

[Atonement] Maove is overwhelmingly driven by a need to bury her grief as deep down as possible. She does not believe that she has properly atoned yet for her earlier failures. In part, she settled in Trunau because it offered the possibility of a noble self-sacrifice in the future. She sees protection of Trunau as the only way she could possibly atone for what she sees as her sins.

[Kindness] Despite her anger at times, Maove tries to do the right thing and treat those around her gently. She's seen enough war and bloodshed during her life that she knows a small kindness can be the only kindness someone ever sees.

[Vengeance] In addition, she would love to kill the orc that lead the fight against her village. Perhaps this could be tied into a specific orc that she could encounter at some point? She tries to pretend that she doesn't want a brutal and vicious vengeance, but it's a craving that's etched into her very bones at this time.

[Forgiveness] Maove also desires to be forgiven by those she let down; her parents, her family, and her village. This is, obviously, impossible, but she continues to try to do what her family would want her to do.

[Distraction] Maove has become a workaholic since coming to Trunau and has made few deep relationships because of it. She's often the first one in the commons in the morning and the last one out at night. When the council requests someone to do odd jobs, she jumps at the chance.

Maove glowers as the man approaches, obviously ignoring the fact that she's reading. Her face brightens a touch as she sees he has brought her an ale.

"Hey," the man says as he pulls his chair out with a scrape. He slides the ale, a dark brew with a good head on it, across the table. "I'm new here and you look like you've got an interesting story. Care to share?"

"Ah, thank you," she says as she takes a deep drink and sighs in satisfaction. "I'm Maove Stonekin. I help out in the Commons and serve as a guard for the town. Train up the young ones on how to hold a sword the right way. It's a struggle with some of them, but we make progress."

"But I take it that you want less of my resume and more of my history." Maove looks the man up and down, weighing her options. "Very well. I come from a small town on the Lastwall border, Firstspring. I lived there with my parents, my wife and our children. Orcs attacked and now there's no more village. I don't talk about it much, so if you want the salacious details, you'll have to get it through the rumor mill just like everyone else."

"I spent a few years travelling after that. I'd go from place to place, joining militias. Couldn't stick too long in one place, though. It was like a wizard greased my feet and if I stopped moving, I'd fall. Spent time in most of the usual haunts for someone like me; Lastwall's capital, a few villages on the borders, . Every place was either too much like home, fell to orcs, or too well-guarded and comfortable." Maove lets out a deep chuckle and places her book in her bag. "I couldn't stand Vigil and all those lordlings in their towers. How could be so comfortable while your country falls? I'd never want to be so safe when others are drying. Trunau suits me; it's a town full of survivors. It's got grit and I can do some real work here."

Maove finishes the rest of her ale and shrugs, "But if you'll join me in the practice yard tomorrow, we can talk more about it. I prefer to talk about difficult things while I'm doing difficult work. I hope to see you there. For tonight, though, have you ever heard of a game called Golem?"

archs: 4d100 ⇒ (28, 52, 74, 33) = 187
m/f: 2d100 ⇒ (84, 3) = 87

Congratulations, you have rolled a male dwarf primalist!

1) Driving Forces: Songan is a character with a deep love for the idea of exploration and adventure. The relative isolation of his youth left him with a burning desire to explore the world; his catlike love of wandering certainly did not do anything to assuage that desire. Even more than exploration, though, Songan desires to go into the corners of the world that haven't seen been walked by a humanoid for centuries or millenia and recover artifacts and historical treasures, bringing back into the reality the stuff of legends.

2) Aspirations: Going hand-in-hand with his desire for exploration and artifact-hunting, Songan wants to become a member of the Pathfinder Society. He knows the organization is full of explorers and he greatly desires to count himself amongst their number.

3) Secret Desires: A secret desire from Songan's younger days is one that is likely common to many: romance. He's never forgotten quiet envy he felt as a child at the sight of the many people walking hand-in-hand, sharing their lives, and from that time he's had a secret longing to share the adventure called "life" with someone else.

"My thanks, sir, for the offer of the ale. It is greatly appreciated. I've only just arrived from Firrine. What? Oh, oh yes...Firrine is a small place. You couldn't really even call it that much of a town...it's more of a staging point than anything else. Fortified heavily, since it's in the middle of a war zone. I saw many, many professors of gods from Iomedae to Gorum pass through that place on their way to the Worldwound or to Gallowspire, looking to refresh themselves before the battle is joined. I heard many stories of battles and fights from them, but I must be honest, the 'glory of war' has never been what I sought." the catfolk begins, slowly swirling the amber-colored liquid in his glass, staring at it for a few seconds before looking over to his patron.

"Oh! Apologies. Lost in thought, I suppose. You see, from the time I was a child, I've read all kinds of books about magic. Not ordinary, mundane magic...the stuff of legends! Magical artifacts and relics, plucked from ruins that haven't tasted fresh air in so long that the contents are legend to the grandparents of the oldest elf you know! Can you imagine the thrill?! The slow, meticulous search for traps meant to keep anyone from parting the tomb with its spoils...then finally seeing it...it doesn't matter if it has the power to destroy entire worlds or create entire new ones, it is history! It is who we as Golarionites are! That is the thrill that I seek! There are so many on this planet that do not know and do not care about our past, but I cannot understand it! As a people, we cannot know where we are going unless we first know where we have been!" he continues, the passion in his voice evident in the quick, exclamatory speech.

He takes another swig of ale, releasing a satisfied breath of air before continuing, pointing the hand holding the bottle in the direction of the Mindspin Mountains. "That my friend is what brings me to Trunau. I have heard often of the plight, yet resilience, of your people, the tenacity with which you push back the invading hordes of Belkzen over and over again. Your people have my admiration, believe me; there are many who would've abandoned this place long ago, not wanting to live their lives in the shadow of the orc-hordes. I am thankful for the respite that I have here, in this place, before I continue my journey. I go to the Mindspin's peaks; it is there, among orcs and giants and probably worse, that I will try to find the artifact that will cement my place among the explorers and artifact-hunters..that will let me join the ranks of the Pathfinder Society. And..well...who knows? Maybe in the going I'll find someone who seeks that adventurous thrill as I do and who will desire to be part of that thrill with me..."

I've been involved in PbP gaming since August of 2011, when I created a character for a Jade Regent game. Since then I've been selected to play in a baker's dozen of different games. I've been involved in roleplaying in general for just over ten years.

I'm thinking of a gnome slayer (bounty hunter), a guy whose family was slaughtered by giants, driving him nearly into Bleaching, who has been working as a catch and debt man for the local crimeboss. If a chance for vengeance against giants came along, he'd be all about it.

Poshment Abrilgado
LN Gnome Male Slayer 1 (bounty hunter)
Init +2; Senses Perception +6; low-light
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DEFENSE
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AC 17, touch 13, flat-footed 15 (+3 armor, +2 dex, +1 shield, +1 size)
hp 14 (1d10+3+1FC)
Fort +5, Ref +4, Will +2 (+2 vs illusions)
------------------------------------------------------------------------
OFFENSE
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Spd 20'
Melee aklys +3 (1d6+1)
Ranged lasso +4 or bolas +4 (1d3+1 NL) or
Space 5'; Reach 5'
------------------------------------------------------------------------
STATISTICS
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Str 12, Dex 14, Con 16, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 12
BAB +1; CMB +1; CMD 13
Feats (1) skill focus (intimidate)
Skills (6 skill) Acrobatics +6, Intimidate +10, Knowledge (local) +4, Perception +6, Stealth +10, Survival +6 (+7 track)
Special Abilities: +4 dodge vs giants, gnome magic, hatred +1 (reptilian, goblinoid), studied target +1, track
Traits: orphaned by giants (+1 attack, +2 to confirm crits), bully (+1 to intimidate)
Languages: Gnome, Common, Sylvan
Possessions (x gp) aklys (5 gp), bolas (5 gp), lasso (1 sp), studded leather (25 gp), buckler (5 gp),
------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stat Math:
Str 12 (5 points -2 racial)
Dex 14 (5 points)
Con 16 (5 points +2 racial)
Int 10 (0 points)
Wis 14 (5 points)
Cha 12 (0 points +2 racial)

Ziurt Kisa
Male human barbarian (armored hulk) 1 (Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Combat 28)
N Medium humanoid (human)
Init +1; Senses Perception +4
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Defense
--------------------
AC 15, touch 11, flat-footed 14 (+4 armor, +1 Dex)
hp 15 (1d12+3)
Fort +5, Ref +1 (+1 bonus vs. trample attacks), Will +0
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor)
Melee (L) bastard sword +4 (2d8+4/19-20)
Special Attacks rage (7 rounds/day)
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 17, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 13, Wis 10, Cha 8
Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 15 (16 vs. overrun)
Feats Big Game Hunter, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (bastard sword)
Skills Acrobatics +3 (-1 to jump), Climb +5, Handle Animal +3, Perception +4, Survival +4, Swim +5
Languages Common, Giant
SQ indomitable stance
Other Gear armored coat, bastard sword, backpack, belt pouch, blanket, flint and steel, hemp rope (50 ft.), piton (8), pot, soap, torch (10), trail rations (4), waterskin, wire (3), 5 gp
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Special Abilities
--------------------
Big Game Hunter +1 to hit, +2 to damage Large or larger creatures.
Indomitable Stance (Ex) +1 to Reflex vs trample & to hit, dam, and AC vs charging foe.
Rage (7 rounds/day) (Ex) +4 Str, +4 Con, +2 to Will saves, -2 to AC when enraged.
Giant Blooded The penalty for wielding a weapon 1 size category larger than you is reduced by 2. You also have somewhat giant-esque features that may span from the giant blood within your family's history, such as exaggerated height and size.

Senza Veshki was born to a large family of Varisian entertainers. His family traveled in a large caravan of merchants, warriors, entertainers, and everything else you can imagine. Senza was the second child of his parents, proceeded only by his older sister Allegrezza. His family grew quickly though. His parents giving him 4 younger sibling to care for. Luckily, Senza's parents had help. Senza's Grandmother, Uncle, Aunt, and two much older cousins all traveled in the same caravan tending to his family. Senza was born in the cool month of late September. He seemed a normal child, until his first year when a harrowing was performed over the infant child. The seer proclaimed that Senza would be afflicted by a curse, born in his blood. That his blood would drive him mad, and eventually lead to his untimely death. Senza's family knew it could mean only one thing. In ancient times, near the beginning of our family's history. One of the Veshki ancestors slew a dragon and stole its blood. Since that time, the Veshki have produced a long line of sorcerers born with innate magic in their blood, but it was foretold that one in each generation had to pay a price for the power in their blood. Those that bear the curse would be driven mad by their blood. They would become little more than wild dogs howling at the moon when enraged. Senza's parents hid the truth of his harrowing from him until he came of age, allowing him to grow a normal life.
As a child, Senza grew quickly, becoming a strong, able bodied youth. His elder sister, only 2 years his senior was quickly outmatched by the strong youth. Her talents lied in her agility, not her strength. Both children though, shared a strong charismatic appeal that made each a natural leader. Senza and Allegrezza (Allie, as he alone called her.) were natural rivals in everything they did. They turned every task into a competition, always seeking to outdo the other.
As Senza grew into adolescence, he was randomly selected from the children in the caravan to serve as the personal aid to their caravan's Leader, Forzando Tenerezza. Forzando, was born deaf. He learned to communicate through other means, a sign language that many in this caravan learned to speak with their leader. He needed an aid to speak to those outside the caravan. In his old age though, Forzando eyes had begun to give out. He needed a new, younger aid, who could help him not only in communication, but also in his daily tasks. He consulted the caravan's harrower, who in turn predicted that Senza should be that aid, much to Allie's chagrin.
As they grew into adulthood, Allie became an accomplished sorceress. When she came of age, she left the caravan to travel on her own and develop her magic. She severed all ties with her family during that time.
Senza, stayed with the caravan after he came of age, taking care of Forzando. His duties were vast, from trade agreements, to travel rites, he was even trained to fight to protect Forzando from bandits and other attackers. When he fought he could feel his blood pumping a darkness in him, a rage that would take him until the battle was through. He could maintain some control, but it terrified him. He knew this was only a precursor of the madness to come.
When Forzando took ill, the caravan gathered together to see him off. Even Allegrezza returned to the family to wish him off as he journeyed into the next world. On Forzando's deathbed, Forzando bequeathed unto Senna a book, locked and sealed by some unknown magic. Forzando passed soon after. He never explained what was in the book, but Senza knew it was important.
Allegrezza cornered Senza demanding to know what was in the book. He honestly didn't know, but she seemed driven. The years away from the caravan had born a darkness in her. She lusted for power, a power she though the book could give her. Senza refused to tell her, or even show her the book. Allegrezza became enraged by his refusal and cast a spell upon Senza. Senza fell asleep, as her spell demanded and awoke hours later. He learned Allie had stolen his book and set off. The caravan she fled upon was leading into the Mindsong Mountains, in a town called Trunau. Senza followed after her, hoping he could find her trail, and her, before she disappeared forever.

Senza is a short but sturdy young man at 26. His clothes fit loosely and hide his muscular build. He always dresses with a scarf around his neck, and a second tied around his britches as a makeshift belt. He has a tattoo on his upper right arm of a dragon coiled around his arm lunging to bite his neck. A reminder of his curse and inevitable fate. He always keeps this tattoo covered. Senza has brown hair and muddy brown eyes that are eerily deep. He has a boyish face and carefree attitude that masks the darker nature in his soul.

Burian Kreech is the fourth of five children from a sizable family of western Lastwall dwarves. His mother's family had moved to the area in the time of her great-great-grandfather, from out of the Hold of Belkzen. They are a proud family of warriors, that have lived on the western end of Lastwall since they came to the land, willing and able to help protect the borders against the orcs of Belkzen. They have always been warriors for the cause, and are well known as ferocious fighters, often letting their anger take over to wreak great havoc amongst the ranks of whatever enemy they fight. The family affectionately refers to this as 'Letting the Dragon Loose'.

It was during Burian's adolescence that he actually learned where the term originated. This is because that was when he noticed his hands becoming claw-like. When he brought it up to his parents, his father merely looked on disapprovingly, but his mother said a prayer to Torag before explaining to him the truth. They had the spirit of the dragon in them, and sometimes it would manifest stronger in some of the family line over others. It was particularly evident in Burian's thrice-great-grandfather, and part of the reason he felt he needed to leave Belkzen, start over where he could try to disguise it somehow. Despite knowing this much, Burian's mother knew nothing more about how it happened or why.

Burian was determined to find out all he could. After asking all of the family on his mother's side, all he learned is that it only ever first originated when the family lived in Belkzen. Armed with that little knowledge, Burian decided he would go there and find something to explain what lie in his family's past, and why it affected him so early in his life. He managed to grab a job as a caravan guard and make for Trunau to begin his search. When they found out he was leaving, the commander of his region had him tasked with gathering information about Belkzen for the potential of expanding Lastwall that direction.

Burian wants to find out about the draconic heritage in his family. He will then need to decide whether he embraces it or wants to purge it. I haven't decided yet what dragon, but even when I know, he and his family don't quite know
Also, he will be taking note on whether expansion of Lastwall into Belkzen seems plausible.