GM Rednal's Rise of the Runelords: AE (Inactive)

Game Master Rednal

However, a chance encounter with raiding bandits in the outskirts of the settlement changed everything. Graven was taken to a place called the Puddles. There, under the watchful eyes of a local thieve's guild, Graven survived a torturous initiation and worked his way into the graces of his overseers and new masters. Eventually, he took his place along side fellow misplaced youths, tasked with bringing in whatever the contract called for, by whatever means necessary. The guild fell in a hostile territory takeover, and Graven numbered amongst the few of his guild who survived.

In time, Graven returned home a changed man. Subdued by his experience in Absalom, Graven quietly spent the last year doing minor jobs as he found them around town. He is slowly building a reputation as a handy boy of a man to have around.

Known as the Lady of Sarenrae to Graven and the fellow urchins of the Puddles, the elderly cleric's visits into the Puddles district represent the too infrequent light in the dark day to day living. The devout visitor is the one who gave Graven his last name as a nod to Sandpoint, a small gesture that gave Graven his first sense of belonging.

Baelic was Graven's primary overseer, tasked with preparing him to navigate Absalom and to stay alive while doing so. Seeing in Graven a spark of intellect, Baelic brought in a local contact, Arandur, to see if Graven can tap into the arcane arts to make himself more useful. Graven lost sight of them early in that night of massacre, and does not know whether either of them were involved in the scheming that led to the guild's downfall.

I’m sorry. I can’t stay.

Dear Mrs Olivebranch:

It’s not you, you’ve been kinder to me than anyone else in the past eleven years of my life, and I thank you for that, but... I just can’t. I just can't stay. I'm sorry, though I might be young in body, I’m not young of mind or spirit. I’m old, in those respect. I’ve seen more than most of you have. I've been marched up mountains, I’ve marched down roads. I’ve killed. I’ve felt blood spill down my arms. I made. I made spells that, while not as powerful, are still unique, and of my own design. I’ve lived with goblins, I was born from the womb of a princess, and cast aside as her bastard. I’ve been scarred and whipped. I feel older than anyone else. I’ve been through hell and back. And do you know what? I’m stronger for it. I’m smarter for it. I’m better for it. Know that you do not have to fear my death, or anything about me, because I’ve survived worse. I’ve gone through worse. The world has hardened me, but know that the steel in my bones will not be easily bent and broken. Know that I shall not fall with ease. Know that I am unyielding, undying. Know that I thank you, and if we ever cross paths again, I will repay you for your kindness. But... I’m not a kid anymore. I’ll handle myself. I know I can.
-Sincerely:
~~Katlin.

Blood. Blood everywhere.
The little girl stared at the corpse in a panic, it’s for no longer being that of a old man, but now that of the local mayor, his blood strewn across the small stone room.
“Oh no... Oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no nononononoNO!” The little girl cried, panicked, “Y-y-y-You were evil! You told m-m-me th-th-that we would rule! I-I-I had t-t-t-to... Y-y-you MADE m-m-me k-k-kill him... I... Had to...” she whimpered, panickedly stepping away from the corpse, her inner voice decrying her foolishness, her actions that resulted in another dead, even if his soul was corrupted to the core.
She looked around... As the door to her stone prison opened, a young man looking down into the small, 10x10 room.
“Wha- By DESNA- SOMEONE! IT’S KILLED ANO-”
Katlin ran past the man, making her escape as fast as she could, weaving through the streets.
“IT KILLED MCGUFFRY!”
“KILL IT!”
She felt arrows wiz past her head, her heart beating faster than any sane girl really should have it, her heart almost bursting out of her chest.
A bolt drove into her back, as she stumbled in agony, she ran and ran, right into the forest, deeper and deeper.
Eventually, the cries stopped, the yelling ceased, and she was... No longer alone?...
She turned around, looking at the goblin.

“Oy, lookie ere! This one had a fancy little hat, didn’t it?”
“Aye, lad, rather nice hat, ah think ah’ll keep eet.”
The two large slavers laugh at the corpses, and the little girl covered in green paint, tied up and plopped in the back, a small amount of smoke burning off the new brand on her back.
Dogmeat... Fishface... Clusterf@+#... Killer... All of the friends she made over the last year... killed. Slaughtered...
“I... hate... you...” The little girl muttered
“Ah, shut up ya b#@~#, ya don’t have nothing to say tah me!” The slaver cried, whipping the little girls back.
She curls up further.

“He’s dead! We’ve come to help!”
The little girl continued to hide, as the rest of the slaves ran about, free as the wind, freed from the slavers grasp, free to do what they wished.
"Well, we ought to find this beast 'o 'is before it claws our eyes out."
"I heard that it knows magic, and can tear your heart from your chest."
"I heard that it killed four men, without even trying to."
"I Heard that it hid, and then AMBUSHED someone. Did quite the bit on 'im, I heard."
"Aye, didn't have a leg. Though might have been from the trap, I don't remember, was drunk."
And she kept on hiding from them. They were... More powerful than her. They could kill her. Easily. One of them carried a sword nearly as large as her, and she watched as they sawed their way through the slaver camp.
So she hid. In her little room. Praying that she might keep hiding, so she might leave by herself. They would try to hurt her... She didn’t want that... she didn’t want any more pain... She’s caused enough... Enough...

She sat in the orphanage, the little cruel boy hanging from the ceiling.
"Don't... Laugh... At her."
The boy, four years her elder, nodded in terror.
"And if you mention it, I will sunder your heart from your chest. Understood?"
He nodded.
"Good. Next time I see you try that on me, or ANY of my sisters, I will cause pain untold."
The boy nodded.
"Good. Glad to see we are together."

At first blush, Mira appears an average Shoanti girl in her mid teens. Her ruddy complexion speaks of at least partial Shoanti blood, although her mid-length black hair and lack of tatoos mark her as an obvious outsider. Her head is wreathed by a handful of blue flowers, and a small pair of antlers protrude from the top, partly covered in moss instead of velvet and seemingly composed of living wood. She wears a simple, but well worn traveller's outfit, sturdy gloves and boots, and a green cloak. On her back is a quiver full of arrows, with an unstrung bow lashed to it, and a sturdy walking stick can usually be found in her possession as well.

Mira is quiet, and uncomfortable around large groups of people, due to having lived among the Shoanti for most of her life. Her dislike of large, populated areas, however, is offset by her fierce curiosity and desire for adventure. This combination leads her to keep to the outskirts of towns and villages, where she can interact while still being able to retreat to the comforting solitude of the wilderness when she desires.

She travels with her guardian and friend, Arondil, a young elk stag with pristine white fur. When travelling she rides on his back without a saddle, in the same manner Shoanti are known to ride their horses. She often speaks to Arondil directly, and seems to be able to carry on a conversation with him. While Arondil seems to be an otherwise normal stag, he appears to understand Mira quite well, to the point of being able to follow her verbal commands. The elk is very protective of Mira, and will gladly interpose himself between her and anyone who appears threatening.

Chandra was a typical Shoanti, raised in the Shriikirri-Quah as a warrior and eventually marrying Shakern, the son of one of the quah's most respected elders. The two were both great warriors, evenly matched in skill, and inseperable even before marriage. The two also shared a great wanderlust and craving for adventure. In the months after they were united, they decided to ride out and see the world before returning to the Quah.

Travelling west from the Storval Plateau they left Varisia for several years, travelling throughout the lands, fighting many battles and collecting treasure for their return to the Quah. After they'd had their fill of adventure, the two returned to Varisia by way of Korvosa, working their way towards the Storval stairs. During their return Chandra became aware that she was with child. The two rejoiced and made haste to return in time to give birth among family and friends. Unfortunately for Chandra and Shakern, they would never get a chance to see their child born. Dusk fell as they approached the Ashwood, and as they prepared to make camp for the night, the two were set upon by a band of Hill Giants. Shakern was overwhelmed, and chandra was forced to take up sword as well despite her situation. The two were eventually victorious, but the cost was high. Shakern laid on the ground bleeding from various wounds, his ribs crushed and one of his legs mangled. Chandra had also been seriously wounded, but managed to drag herself to his side to try to tend to his wounds. Without magic or potions, however, she was only able to bandage him up and hope for the best. She passed out from a combination of exhaustion and her wounds shortly afterwards, and awoke late the next day next to her husband's cold body. To lose her husband when they were only a short way from home was a cruel twist of fate, and that pain was compounded when she suffered a miscarriage two days later as she passed through the Ashwood.

The loss of her child nearly broke Chandra. For several days she lay there in the middle of the forest, paralyzed by grief. Laying there against a tree, her belongings strewn on the ground near her, and her horses grazing nearby, she was snapped out of her stupor by the sound of a child crying. When she looked in the direction of the sound she briefly saw a flash of white and then nothing. Forcing herself up, she moved towards the sound, finally coming upon a small child, bundled in a simple blanket on a basket woven of twigs. She reached down and picked up the child and as she cradled it in her arms it ceased crying. She looked around and called out to see if anyone was there, but there was no response. Seeing the helpless child there in her arms restored her desire to return home. She decided in that instant that she would see the child safely to the Quah and that she would raise her as her own child. Though the pain of what had happened still hung heavy upon her, she gathered her strength and pushed on again, knowing that Mira, the name they had chosen for their child if they had a daughter, was depending upon her.

Among the Shoanti there is a tale passed down from generation to generation: The tale of the Stag's Daughter. Once in every few generations, when the lands teamed with unrest and ill omen, the Grim White Stag, herald of Erastil's followers, would manifest and visit of Old Deadeye's followers, possessing them and seeing to it that they produced a child. When the child was born it would be taken to the forest and left along with an offering for Erastil. Eventually, usually months or even a few years later, the child would be found and taken in by someone who would raise them. In these times the Shoanti claimed Varisia as their own, wandering both across the plateau in the north and the forests and plains in the south. Several of these children were found by them and taken home to their Quah. Raised by the tribe, the girl always grew into a powerful warrior, master of both melee combat and archery, and a master over the wilderness. When the girl game of age, she would begin to grow a pair of stag's antlers, composed of living wood instead of horn like those of the Grim White Stag. Flowers would adorn her head, and soon a white stag would be sent to carry her off to fulfill her destiny. Invariably this coming of age was accompanied by calamity and ill fortune for the clan which reared her, although it was never directly caused by the girl. For this reason the elders always warned that no good could come of giving shelter to such foundlings.

It was in the shadow of this story that Mira was raised by Chandra. Though she knew of the tale she tried not to think of it and instead devoted herself to her daughter and the Quah. When Mira showed exceptional skill with the bow at the age of eight, the clan chalked it up to her parentage, for the girl had complexion, eyes and hair that matched those of her presumed parents. Chandra pushed any thoughts about Mira's heritage out of her mind, and instead basked in the attention and praise her daughter drew from others within the clan. From Mira's point of view, she had a fairly normal childhood, with all the ups and downs that came with it. She did well in archery and could outrun and overpower even boys several years her elder. She took great joy in practicing archery and riding, as well as the other more normal pastimes shared by Shoanti Children. For almost 6 years she lived a happy life in the Quah with her mother and her friends, but in the end the legend caught up with her.

When she had turned thirteen she went out on a trek with several of the tribes warriors and those children who were of the age to seek out a horse on the plateau. For weeks they travelled, tracking a herd of wild horses across open lands, closing in on them with each day. When they finally reached the pack, they would approach it calmly and the children--watched closely by the adults, of course--would attempt to attract the attention of one of the animals. Taming a wild mare or stallion was a mark of honor for the children, and those who rode such an animal were greatly revered within the Quah. When they crested the hill though, the group saw something truly unexpected: Amidst the mass of black and brown that was the herd of horses stood a solitary white elk, his antlered head raised far above the surrounding animals. Despite the warriors and children being well hiden among the brush on the ridge, the elk seemed to be staring directly at them.

Confused by the appearance of the elk, and vaguely aware of the grim significance of such a beast, the warriors turned and began speaking to each other in hushed tones. Their conference, however, kept them from noticing that Mira had begun stealthily approaching the beast. When she had spotted it she was immediately transfixed by it. Somehow she knew that the elk awaited her, and so she began moving quietly towards him. When she reached the edge of the herd, it parted before her and the stag approached. The men who had led the party noticed the movement, and watched silently as the Stag approached Mira and knelt before her, allowing her to climb upon its back. Looks of shock spread across their faces as they realized what they were witnessing. In that instant, as Mira looked from the elk at where the rest of the group was, she knew that her world had fundamentally changed. She didn't understand it, but as the elk--Arnodil was what he had introduced himself as--approached the group, the looks on the faces of the men told her that she had done something unthinkable.

The trip back home was long and quiet. The children were fascinated with the elk, but their chaperones spoke quietly to each other, often speaking of the "Stagsdottir", which Mira quickly gathered refered to her. When they returned, they quickly called for a meeting with Chandra and the Elders. The meeting went on throughout the day and into the night, and though Mira wasn't able to hear what was discussed, the back and forth and occasional shouting made it clear that things were not right. Before the meeting could conclude, however, the sentries' horns blew in warning. Men and women shouted as they gathered their weapons and rushed off to fight in defense of the tribe.

When morning came, the tribe gathered their wounded and dead into the center of the camp. They had been assaulted by nearly a dozen giants, a force that hadn't been seen on the plateau in several generations. The fighting had cost them a half-dozen of their best warriors, and another handful lay severely injured and likely on their deathbeds. Among these was Chandra, who led the charge against the foes who had claimed her husband's life. As she lay there dying she called the elders to her side to plead with them. She pleaded with them to not strip Mira of her membership in the Quah, to lend her aid when she set off into the world, and to allow her to return to live among them if and when her travels were completed. The issuing of such a demand by a warrior on their deathbed was a serious matter, and so, despite their trepidation, the elders agreed to Chandra's request.

After the elders left, Chandra called Mira to her side. She told her about how she'd been found, but made it clear that she would always be her daughter, regardless of her true heritage. She explained that Mira would eventually need to leave the tribe to find her destiny, and that when she was done she should return and again call the tribe home. Mira listened to her mother's words, in shock at what was happening. When Chandra finally passed away, Mira layed there crying for an hour before the elders were able to convince her to move so that they could see to her cremation, along with the other warrios who had sacrificed their lives for the Quah.

The next month was awkward, but the elders kept true to their word. While the adults in the tribe were more reserved around Mira, they did their best to ensure she was cared for. Mira spent most of her time with Arondil at the periphery of their encampment, although the other children were less reserved than their parents and would come to talk and see the great white elk regularly. It was at the end of that month that Mira finally began to grow the moss-covered nubs that marked her true parentage. At the same time she began to feel a strong desire to leave the steppes and head south. Arondil also seemed to sense this, becoming more agitated and restless as the days went by. Eventually she went to the elders and told them that her time to leave had arrived. In some ways relieved, they responded by giving her some gold and travelling supplies, as well as the longbow that had been her mothers' when she had been a child. That day she gathered her things and climbed atop Arondil to head out for wherever it is she was being called to, bow and quiver across her back, and a pair of pouches of rations tied together and slung across Arondil's back.

Mira's journey across the plains and down the Storval Steps was an experience for her. She'd never been so alone as she was crossing the vast expanse of the Storval Plateau, but despite that she felt oddly relieved to be out on her own. While she occasionally reached up to feel the slowly growing fuzzy pair of antlers that she'd developed, she didn't otherwise think too much on the nature of the changes she was undergoing. Much like her relief to be traveling, she felt at ease about it, as if it had always been so. For the most part she just enjoyed the travel and kept her eyes open for anything that needed to be avoided on the steppes. Her journey across and down the steps had been uneventful, and from there she headed south towards the Ashwood, curious about the forest she'd been found in. When she arrived, she and Arondil headed into the heart of the forest, where they spent the remainder of the next year wandering about the woods, causing travellers through the forest to tell tales of a ghostly child and stag wandering about the woods at the tarverns in the nearby cities.

Mira enjoyed her stay in the forest, which provided for both her own and Arondil's needs. There among the trees she learned to call upon the woods for blessings to aid her in hunting prey or in guiding her arrows. Though she still did not know Erastil's name, she nevertheless was his devoted servant. At the end of her second year in the Ashwood she began to hear whispers on the breeze and in the rustling of the leaves of the forest which spoke of trouble brewing in the west. In her dreams she saw a giant white stag, like Arondil, but with antlers consisting of live saplings. While it did not speak to her, it showed her images of the large humanoids that had assaulted her Quah and killed her mother and then headed out of the forest to the west. The following morning she gathered what supplies she could and told Arondil that they were leaving.

They travelled through forests and across plains towards the west, skirting around towns and avoiding contact with people for the most part. Still, when they camped near towns for the night, Mira was struck by an insatiable curiosity about the towns, which seemed more permanent than the encampments her tribe had lived in. Eventually she came to Sandpoint and knew that her travels had ended. Unsure of what to do, she wandered the plains surrounding the town, living off the land and avoiding contact with the travelers heading in and out of the town. Her curiosity, however, began to win over again as she spied on the town from nearby hills in the evening before the lights in the buildings went out. Eventually she told Arondil to wait for her and headed off into town to see it for herself.

Her first forays into the town were exclusively during the evenings, and she kept her cloak drawn tightly and hood up to hide her antlers, which extended back almost half a foot and had begun to lose the moss that had covered them initially. The townsfolk mostly ignored her, probably writing her off as a halfling instead of a human child, although she occasionally got looks as she wandered through the streets admiring the buildings and people. After a few weeks of coming and going she finally caught the attention of the town militia, who had heard rumors of a halfling thief in the region, and were therefore not comfortable with a 4' tall cloaked figure skulking around in the evenings. Needless to say they were quite surprised when they managed to catch hold of her and pulled back her hood. Instead of the halfling man they expected, they were greeted by an antlered Shoanti girl. Stepping on one of the guard's feet, Mira freed herself from their grasp and sprinted for the edge of town, leaving the grown men in the dust. As they chased her down they heard her whistle loudly, and were astounded when a large white stag appeared from the shadows, stopping only briefly to allow the girl to hop on its back before disappearing into the night.

Spooked by the encounter, Mira fled into the wilderness with Andoril and hid for the next few days in a small cave along the shore far north of town, unwilling to risk being seen again. Meanwhile, the guards spoke Shalelu Andosana, an elven ranger who frequented the surrounding lands and often aided the town against goblins and other threats, and who had luckily just stopped in town for one of her infrequent visits. They told her of the stag-girl and how she'd fled and asked her to investigate whether she was a threat or not. Intrigued, Shalelu agreed to track the girl down and find out her motives.

While Mira was a natural at surviving in the wilderness and remaining hidden, Shalelu was a master tracker who had spent more years in the area than Mira had been alive. Within a day Shalelu had tracked her to the cave, and began patiently observing her. Late that afternoon, when Mira snuck out to gather food for herself and Arondil, Shalelu entered the cave, caling Arondil and waiting for Mira's return. When she entered the cave, Mira was quite surprised to see the elven woman sitting there next to Arondil, the elk seemingly ignoring her. She looked the elk in the eyes and berated him, and much to the elf's chagrin the elk seemed to avert its eyes in shame before wandering off to the back of the cave.

When Shalelu turned back to Mira, she found herself facing the girl with a bow and knocked arrow. Laughing as she raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, the elf explained to Mira that she had been sent to find out what Mira was up to with regards to the town. Looking sheepishly back at her visitor, Mira replied that she had just been curious about the town, explaining that she'd never been in one, and had been living alone for the past couple years. When Shalelu introduced herself and asked for Mira's name, she responded simply "Mira Stagsdottir", taking the title from the Shoanti tale as her surname. The two spent a good bit of time talking about the surrounding region that day, and Shalelu offered to aid her in getting familiar with the town.

Six months have passed since that day, and Mira has become fairly well-known within the town. Even if the villagers aren't entirely sure what to make of the girl, Shalelu vouching for her carries a lot of weight, and so many have extended her the benefit of the doubt. While Mira still prefers to live outside Sandpoint, much like Shalelu, she has grown attached to the village and for the first time since she left her tribe feels as if she belongs.

Init +4; Senses low-light vision, scent; Perception +8

Defense
AC 20, Touch 15, Flat-footed 16 [4 dex + 1 size + 5 natural armor]
HP 10/10 [8 HD + 2 con]
Fort +4, Ref +4, Will +5

Offense
Speed 50 ft.

Melee Small Quarterstaff +5 [1d4 + 6, 20/x2]
Melee (Secondary) Gore +0 [1d6 + 2, 20/x2]
Melee Gore/Hoof (x2) +5/+0/+0 [1d6 + 4 / 1d3 + 2, 20/x2]

Ranged Small Longbow (point-blank) +5 (+6) [1d6 + 0 (+1), 20/x3]

Special Attacks
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft.

Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1):
constant--speak with animals (Elk only)
at-will--charm animal (Elk only)

Spells Known (CL 1):
1st (2/day) - divine favor. Deadeye's Lore
0th (at will) - create water, detect magic, guidance, light

Statistics
Str 18, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 16, Wis 17, Cha 18
Base Atk +0; CMB +3; CMD 17

Feats Point-Blank Shot, Skill Focus (Knowledge: Nature)
Race Traits Focused Study, Heart of the Wilderness
Traits Shaonti Steed (Arondil), Giant Slayer, Seeker
Drawback Naive
Skills Acrobatics +4, Appraise +3, Bluff +4, Diplomacy +4, Handle Animal +8, Intimidate +5, Know(Nature) +10 (+11), Know(Religion) +7 (+8), Know(Geography) +7, Perception +8, Profession(Trapper) +7, Ride +8, Sense Motive +8, Stealth +12, Survival +7
Languages (Base;Bonus;Linguistics;Special) Common; Shoanti, Sylvan, Giant; speak with animals (Elk Only)
SQ Change Shape, Dominion, Species Affinity
Limited Use

Combat Gear
Other Gear
Treasure

Special Abilities (Race)

Focused Study: Gain Skill Focus at 1, 8 and 16. Choices - Know: Nature, Perception, Survival
Heart of the Wilderness: Add half character level to survival (min +0). +5 racial bonus on Constitution checks to stabilize when dying, and add half level to Con to determine max negative HP.
Shoanti Steed (Trait, Regional): Treat mount as having saddle even when riding bareback. Mount can fend for itself outside of settlements and comes within 1d6 minutes when whistled for.
Giant Slayer (Trait, Campaign):

Special Abilities (Inquisitor, Sacred Huntsmaster)
Domain:
Animal Companion (Ex): Gain animal companion as hunter of equal level. Arondil, Elk (Megaloceros)
Monster Lore (Ex): Add Wis to knowledge skill when making checks to identify creatures.
Stern Gaze (Ex): Add half inquisitor level to Intimidate and Sense Motive checks, (min. +1)

Special Abilities (Oracle, Wood)

Special Abilities (Inquisitor)
Change Shape (Su): (Mv. Act., at-will) Change between Human and Elk form, as shapechange. May partly convert any part of body.
Dominion (Su): In either form may speak with animals or charm animal on elk.
Species Affinity (Elk): Some special ability related to Elk goes here in theory.

Gear Abilities

Init +3; Senses low-light vision, scent; Perception

Defense
AC 16, Touch 13, Flat-footed 13 [3 nat. armor + 3 dex]
HP 15/15 [11 HD + 4 con]
Fort +4, Ref +5, Will +2

Offense
Speed 50 ft.

Melee Gore +3 (1d8+3, 20/x2)

Special Attacks
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft.

Statistics
Str 12, Dex 17, Con 14, Int 2, Wis 15, Cha 5
Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 16

Feats
Skills
SQ Link, Share Spells

Natural Armor: +5 = +5 elk + 2 animal lord - 2 young

Melee Quarterstaff [+5 (0 BAB + 4 str + 1 size); 1d4 + 6 (4 str * 1.5), 20/x2]
Melee (Secondary) Gore [+0 (0 BAB + 4 str + 1 size - 5 secondary); 1d6 + 2 (4 str * 0.5), 20/x2]
Melee Hoof/Hoof/Gore [+5/+5/+5 (0 BAB + 4 str + 1 size); 1d3/1d3/1d6 + 4 (4 str), 20/x2]

Ranged

1 (Inquisitor): +1 skill point

Small Longbow (75 gp)
Small Quarterstaff (Free)
Explorer's outfit (Free)

Soon after, in my anguish, my dragon-wings sprouted. The dragon-lord took me up. Held me through my grief. Taught me to accept, to forgive. To bank the cold fire that burns inside me. Trained me not just to worship Apsu, but to wield his power in his name, to bring others to his light, to see than none who did not need to would die from injury or poison or disease ever again.

But there was no need for that in our mountain Idyll.

Baslwief lies many months and miles behind me. I’d liked it there. Among the halflings, I’d felt tall, if not quite out of scale. Apsu had found little favour there, but, I’d healed wounds of the body and heart both. Turned a few wayward souls from the cutpurse worship of Thamir, if not to Apsu himself, then, at least towards the goodly path of Zuzaristan or Desna. The months that’d followed, as winter waned to spring, and the poor hopeful prospectors poured onto the slopes of the Fenwalls, I followed, tending injuries where I could, whispering last rites where I had to. The dangers of mining, the cold, the purchase of a pickaxe over food, the violence of claim-jumping, the brutality of the stripmines, the monsters drawn by the abundance of human flesh below the snowline… and the white-capped peaks, tugging at something in my silvered dragonsheart, my very soul. The cold, no danger to me, unlike starvation or foul creatures or brigands.

It’d been a hard spring, and a harder summer, till winter drew her snowy veil across the mountain range.

Whistledown had been… different. The gnomes more insular, the clack and moan of the wooden chimes unsettling, even secure in Apsu’s faith. I’d found no more than superficial welcome there, and stayed only briefly. They had their own gods.

The barge creeps downstream along the mighty Yondabakari, laden with mineral riches for the forges of Magnimar… but I’m not going that far. A short flight to Sandpoint, and the dedication of its new Cathedral, a chance to bring a little of Apsu’s light into the lives of those who’d appreciate it, heal the wounded souls of a township sorely wounded. Then, on, to Windsong Abbey and the coming convocation, sadly reduced since better days, and glorious Apsu never well-represented in any case.

But for now, the travellers of the Dry Road gradually overtake on the north bank, whilst the endless, timeless swamp stinks and buzzes amid the mushy ambiguity of the river’s southern edge, and I rest, for a time.

Shalluk
Male Tiefling Bolt Ace Gunslinger 1/Aerherurgist Oracle 1 Neutral Good Medium Humanoid (Native Outsider)
Initiative; +6 Perception +6
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Defense
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AC 17, touch 14, flat-footed 13
hp 10
Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +1
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Offence
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Speed 30 ft.
Ranged +5 Masterwork Repeater Crossbow (1d10, 19-20x2)
Oracle Spells Known
Level 0 Spells (At Will) - Detect Magic - Detect magical auras.
Mending - Fixes small, non-magical items
Read Magic Read scrolls and spells.
Create Water - Create 2 gallons of water
Mage Hand - Move a small item.
Ghost Sound - Minor, non-vocal illusion.
Level 1 Spells (4 per day) -
Cure Light Wounds - Heals 1d8 + level to one touched.
Forbid Action - Stop one action.
Murderous Command - Force a foe to attack an ally.

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Statistics
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Str 10 Dex 18, Con 10, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 18
Base Atk +1; CMB +2; CMD 15
Feats Exotic Weapon Proficiency (Heavy Repeater Crossbow)
Rapid Reload
Traits Friends and Enemies - Gain a warhorse, military saddle, a month of feed and free stabbling.
Rich Parents - Starting funds increase to 900gp
Reactionary - +2 too initiative.
Drawback Haunting Regret
Racial Traits Fiendish Resistance - +5 resistance to fire, cold and lightning
Skilled - Rakasha Tieflings gain a +2 bonus to disguise and sense motive.
Darkvision - 60ft
Soul Seer - Use Deathwatch at will as a spell like ability.
Skills Sense Motive +8, Perception +6, Diplomacy +8, Survival +6, Craft (Food) +4
Languages Common, Infernal, Abyssal, Aklo
Combat Gear Masterwork Heavy Repeating Crossbow, Parade Armour, broken pistol..
Other Gear Heavy Warhorse, Military Saddle, 1 months feed.
Money - 200gp
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Special Abilities
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Grit - A pool to power Bolt Ace Abilities. Shalluk has two points. Can be regained by killing and critting enemies.
Deeds - Special abilities fueled by Grit.
- Sharp Shoot - Spend a point to hit touch AC with a crossbow
- Vigilant Loading - As long as Shalluk has a grit point, reloading a crossbow does not cause an attack of opportunity.
Dual Cursed - Shalluk is under the effects of both the Tongues and Haunted Curses. Only the Haunted Curse improves with level.
Spirit Sense - Shalluk can detect Undead and Incorporeal Creatures at will, as if using Detect Undead but it detects all types at once.
Spirit Mastery - 1 Rank. As a standard action, Shalluk can summon either a Defensive or Offensive spirit of the same alignment as himself.
- Offensive Spirit
HP - 3
AC - 14
Saves - As Shalluk
Movement - 0
Blur - 20% miss chance
DR 5/Magic
Ranged Touch Attack - +5 to hit, 1d4+5 damage.
Appearance - Shalluk’s offensive spirit takes the form of a well armoured woman carrying a heavy repeating crossbow eerily similar to the one Shalluk carries.
- Defensive Spirit
HP - 3
AC - 14
Saves - As Shalluk
Movement - 0
Blur - 20% miss chance
DR 5/Magic
Warding Spirit - All allies within 10 feet get a +1 deflection bonus to AC.
Appearence - Shalluk’s Defensive Spirit appears to be a middle aged man carrying a Tower Shield.
Solar Mystery - Shalluk’s power is drawn from the sun.

Shalluk’s appearance is a contradiction. A well groomed body with a ratty old cloak over the top, expensive equipment hanging by scavenged gear. Although Shalluk has a surprising amount of money he is careful to conceal that detail, and makes sure that much of his non-essential equipment looks old and worn.

Rake thin thanks to a lack of food for many years, Shalluk wears baggy clothing to hide the fact that while not strong he is very fit and lithe, able to move quickly. His dark red skin is naturally covered in a surprising amount of hair that almost qualifies as fur, although it only tends to grow where most human would get it, and it is occasionally parted by scars.

Shalluk also talks with a baritone voice and a upper class accent from Cheliax, his original country.

That being said, Shalluk understands the need to fight. He can overcome his fear when he has to, and while he tries to avoid getting into a fight he is relatively lethal. He has to be, as there has been many situations where being a Tiefling has cause it’s own share of problems. With his current desire to become a better person and a more positive force for good it’s also less likely he can be scared into submission.

Generally kind hearted thanks to his upbringing, Shalluk is also somewhat suspicious thanks to life on his own. Shalluk is also fairly shy for the most part, but his natural skill with words means he often ends up talking when he’s not entirely comfortable. At such times such shyness and honesty tends to lend credence to what he says.

Despite all this, Shalluk was raised wealthy, in his mother’s home. His mother was a adventurer, as his father had been. Indeed, since both appeared human, it was whispered that Shalluk was the result of infernal interference, a devil corrupting the child in his mother’s womb. Shalluk heard those whispers from a young age, but never mentioned them.

One evening a messenger arrived for his mother. Her husband was missing, the only clue a shattered, barely working pistol. Leaving her son in the care of trusted servants, she gave him two gifts - a replica of the repeating crossbow, and the remains of his father's pistol. Shalluk accepted both and watched her rise away.

Unfortunately, her trust was misplaced. Shalluk’s issues grew worse soon after, soundless voices only he could hear whispering nonsense words in his ears. The servants of the house grew afraid on the lithe, red-skinned creature that was supposed to be there master. He clearly didn’t deserve the wealth he possessed, the attention lavished on him. He was a curse made flesh...why else had both his parents fled?

One night, the house was attacked. Shalluk had no idea the masked people were the same people who were supposed to care for him. Terrified, he grabbed the handful of items that meant something to him along with some gold coin and fled. Still young, he didn’t understand that no one was coming to save him.

The streets were not kind. They’re even worse for a small Tiefling child. Shalluk quickly learned to use his speed and dexterity to escape, to grab supplies and to hide. Most vitally he hid those things most precious to him, waiting for the news of his mothers return.

But the voices in his head whispered, and grew stronger. One night Shalluk was curled up in the hidey hole he had found for himself groaning at the sound of a new voice, when the noise brough bigger, older boys. They beat the half-grown Tiefling, and found the gold coins and weapons. The battered gun they tossed aside, but the bow...well, that they could sell.

Terrified and alone, the voices in his ears, Shalluk cried out, “Keala! Muras nia!” Although he had no idea what he had said, he knew what it meant - mother, help me. Child’s plea. But even as he said it he felt something inside him reach out and touch the newest voice around him. And it answered. A ghostly figure appeared, a powerful woman with a crossbow. It fired a bolt, killing the leader of the boys and sending the rest packing. And Shalluk knew that face oh so well…

Convinced he had somehow called the ghost of his own mother, Shalluk gathered what he had and fled. He discovered a handful of other abilities - almost nothing could hide from him, and he had some small ability to cast spells. He was also a good shot with the heavy repeating crossbow once he was old enough to use it.

Wandering, afraid of how Tieflings were treated, Shalluk grew, afraid and lonely. During one night Shalluk heard fighting, and went to investigate. He arrived too late, finding a Paladin dead at the hands of a giant she had, in turn, slain. He buried her body and burned the giant, but as he sat and watched, his self loathing grew. He was no use to anyone. He was a defiler of the spirits, a coward. The dead woman had been brave, courageous, everything he was not. She should live and he should die. No one would miss him.

But, he thought to himself, I can not swap my life for hers. But maybe…he glanced at the gleaming wood and bronze of the crossbow. Maybe he could remember her by doing what she no longer could. Still afraid, his heart beating hard, Shalluk marshalled his resolve and headed for Sandpoint, the half remembered tale of a friend of his mother’s in his mind as a destination. Maybe it would be a place to start...

Allies gain +1 on attack rolls and +1 on saves against fear.
Damage Reduction (5/magic) You have Damage Reduction against all except Magic attacks.
Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white vision only).
Detect Evil (At will) (Sp) You can use detect evil at will (as the spell).
Energy Resistance, Acid (10) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Acid attacks.
Energy Resistance, Cold (10) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Cold attacks.
Energy Resistance, Electricity (10) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Electricity attacks.
Flight (60 feet, Good) You can fly!
Immunity to Disease You are immune to diseases.
Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
Protection From Evil (3/day) (Sp) Granted by Half-Celestial heritage.

+2 to AC and saves, counter mind control, hedge out elementals and outsiders.
Smite Evil (1/day) (Su) +5 to hit, +1 to damage, +5 deflection bonus to AC when used.
Smite Evil (1/day) (Su) +5 to hit, +1 to damage, +5 deflection bonus to AC when used.
Spell Resistance (12) You have Spell Resistance.
Thrill Seeker +5 feet of movement during the first round of any combat.

Breath in.

Breath out.
Breath in.
Breath out.
Breath in...
Out...
In...
Out...

“Do you know what dying looks like?”
The shopkeeper stared at the little girl, the ire in her voice thicker than molassas.
“I do. I know how dying looks like. And it’s not pretty.”

“Knock them back, nock them ba- Gah!”
Another dies from bandit arrows.
I continue to breath in. And out...

“It’s not pretty, you know. It’s awful. It’s ugly. And nobody should even have to see it. But I have. Do you know this? I might seem like a child on my exterior, but inside, I aged.”

I breath in... Then out...
My fingers twich, and I feel my claws on my fingertips.

“I was locked away for a murder I didn’t commit at the ripe old age of Four.”

My feet feeling like stone, I walk out of the burning building, into the cold fall air, bolts flying to and fro.

“I fought a goblin army. Befriended them. And became their chief.”

I stand. I silently spread my bat-like wings, the goblins turning their heads to me in awe.

“I have been enslaved.”

I look around, and cry out.
“YIELD!”

“And, you know what? I am stronger for it.”

I feel a bolt fly through the air, bouncing off my disguised skin. I rise into the sky, and dive into the goblin, clawing at it’s throat.

“I am tougher than you can imagine. And I am smarter, too.”

I lift up the corpse as a makeshift shield, and watch as ball of grease flies to the archers bow.

“And know this, next time you threaten another?”

She slays the goblin in mere seconds turning to the other, it quickly fleeing the premise.

“I’m not gonna respond well. I’m prone to bouts of justice. So try not to anger me.”
She sits down, pulling out some coins.
“Give me the cake.”
She plops them on the counter.

Wasn’t long before she found the goblins all dead. And it wasn’t long for the survivors to stare at her in terror. And wasn’t long until the fires died down, and wasn’t long until she left from the pressure she felt from them.

The little girl looked up to the cold, malnutritioned young woman.
“Here.”
The young woman looked at the piece of bread in her hand.
“Is that?...”
“Yes. Yes it is.”
The young woman slowly took the cake from her.
“Umm...”
“I know you wanted it. I hope you enjoy it.”

Katlin (Wizard/Half-Dragon)

Half Elf Wizard/Half-Dragon Child 1
CG Small humanoid
Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +4
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Defense
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AC 16, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+1 Size, +2 Natural Armor, +3 Dex)
hp 15 (1d12+3)
Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +0
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Offense
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Speed 20 ft. 40 ft Fly
Melee Claws +4 (1d3+2)
. . Bite +4 (1d4+2)
Ranged Crossbow +5 (1d4+2)
Special Attacks Flame Breath
Wizard Spells Known (CL 1st; concentration +7):
. . 1st (3/day) Grease, Color spray, Silent Image
. . 0 (at will)—Detect magic, Prestidigitation, Ghost Sound (DC 16)
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Statistics
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Str 14, Dex 16, Con 16, Int 22, Wis 7, Cha 16
Base Atk +1; CMB +2; CMD 16
Feats Improved Initiative, Ability Focus (Disguise)
Traits armor expert, goblin watcher, vagabond child (urban)
Skills Appraise +13, Diplomacy +8, Disguise +10, Knowledge ((Arcana)(Engineering)(History)(Nature)(Planes)(Religion) +10, Perception +4, Spellcraft +10; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception
Languages Common, Goblin, Elvish, Orcish, Giant, Draconic, Celestial, Infernal.
SQ Arcane School (Teleportation), barred schools (Necromancy)(Enchantment), Mark of Slavery, Scribe Scroll, Fire Immunity, Dragon Subtype
Other Gear Wizard Kit, Crossbow, 40 bolts, masterwork disguise kit, Thieves Tools, Silk Rope, Chalk (10), Chalkboard, Mirror
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Special Abilities
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Shift (Su) Teleport 5 ft per level, as per dimension door
Mark of Slavery (Ex) Whenever you fail a skill check, you take a –2 penalty on any skill check or attack roll you attempt before the end of your next turn unless it is a part of retrying the failed skill check.
Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white vision only).
Flight Speed Has a flight speed.
Share Spells with Familiar (Ex) Can cast spells with a target of "you" on your familiar, as touch spells.