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Corso Gaczi's page

1,079 posts. Alias of Dreaming Warforged.

About Corso Gaczi

Male Human Gestalt Brawler Investigator (Empiricist) 1
CG, M, Humanoid (Varisian/Shoanti)
Init +2; Senses Perception +3 +1 Trapfinding

AC 10, touch 12, flat-footed 10 (dex+2)
HP 12 (1d10 + 1 Con + 1 FC); DR --
Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +1.
Spcl Def.

Speed 30
Melee Unarmed Strike +5 (1d6+4; 20/x2)
Melee 2h-Club +5 (1d6+6; 20/x2)
Spcl Att. Martial Flexibility; Inspiration (FrA, 4/day, +1d6, any Knowledge, Linguistics, or Spellcraft skill checks without expending a use of inspiration, provided he's trained in the skill; ImA: can also be used on attack rolls and saving throws, at the cost of expending two uses of inspiration).

Extracts Prepared:
1 (1+1):

Formula Book (not available at the moment):
1 (5): Cure Light Wounds, Enlarge Person, Expeditious Retreat, Heightened Awareness.

Str 18, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 8, Cha 10; (25-pt buy, +2 Str)
BAB +1 ; CMB +5; CMD 17
Feats H-Focused Study (Linguistics), 1-Orator, B1-Unarmed Strike.
Traits Bruising Intellect, Weathered Emissary, Giant Slayer
Investigator Talents
Skills (Investigator 6, Intelligence 3, Human 1, Background 2) x 1
Armor Check Penalty: 0
Acrobatics (Dex) +6 = 1+2+3
Appraise (Int) +3 = 0+3(+3)
Bluff (Cha) +0/+11+1d6 = 0+0(+3) / to tell a falsehood or conceal information
Climb (Str) +8 = 1+4+3
Craft (Int) (Alchemy) +7 = 1+3+3
Diplomacy (Cha) +0/+11+1d6 = 0+0(+3) / to change the attitude of a creature
Disable Device (Dex) +7 = 1+2+3+1 Trapfinding
Disguise (Cha) tr = 0+0(+3)
Escape Artist (Dex) +2 = 0+2(+3)
Intimidate (Cha/Int) +7/+11+1d6 = 1+3+3 / to force a creature to cooperate
Knowledge (local) (Int) +7+1d6 = 1+3+3
Linguistics (Int) +11+1d6 = 1+3+3+3+1 skill focus, trait
Perception (Wis/Int) +3 = 1-1+3
Sense Motive (Wis/Int) +3 = 1-1+3
Sleight of Hand (Dex) +6 = 1+2+3
Spellcraft (Int) +7+1d6 = 1+3+3
Stealth (Dex) +2 = 0+2(+3)
Survival (Wis) +0 = 0-1+1 trait
Swim (Str) +8 = 1+4+3
Use Magic Device (Cha/Int) tr = 0+0(+3)

Languages Common (Taldan), Varisian, Goblin, Giant, Draconic, Shoanti.
SQ Trapfinding, Brawler’s Cunning, Martial Training.

EQUIPMENT (Starting = 180 GP)
Worn or carried gear
-Canvas Tunic
-Diamond (hidden) (180 gp)

Corso is a tall man in his early twenties. Lean and fair, he carries himself in a proud way, a flash of defiance in his slanted grey-black eyes, a tell-tale sign of his Varisian heritage peeking through his obvious Shoanti descent. His skin is tanned and shows the subtle signs of numerous fights and long days in the sun. He keeps the top of his skull free of hair and wears a pony tail and beard in the style of Varisian bravos. With laughing eyes and a disarming smile, Corso radiates the energy of a well spent youth, sprinkled with the weariness of having lost so many friends. On his neck, one can easily spy the wide scar left by a burning hanging rope.

A result of the scar across his neck, Corso’s coarse voice scrapes like a rusty knife slid on the whitest porcelain. His speech alternates between the languorous swellings of Varisia, the Chelish drill sergeant’s cussing and yelling, and the Shoanti staccato he got from his father.

He normally favours dark brown tunics of leather or thick wool, cut at the shoulder to allow fluid movements, under which he wears ample white shirts, worn to the neck, with a "cravate" of white silk. However, these last few weeks, he sports nothing but a canvas tunic of the dullest beige, made from the flour bag they put on him before hanging him, and carries a great big walking stick that doubles as a club.

Corso favours strong coffee and smooth leathery tobacco, but the promise of good whiskey always brings a smile to his lips.

Corso felt suddenly weightless, but a breath later, the rope snapped and the noose around his neck tightened. Death was coming, but first came pain, a constricting pain that muffled the world out. The hangman’s rope had failed to break his neck, leaving him to exquisite torment. Blood pooled in his head and all he could hear was his heartbeat resonating inside his skull, all he could see was tinged in red.

Yet, as his body flailed wantonly at the air around him, looking for purchase, his mind suddenly cleared. It was like finding the eye of a storm. In the space between life and death, all became quiet, and through the bloody mist in his eyes, he saw, in the forest ahead, strange creatures dancing. He heard them too, singing. He could not understand them, but he understood regardless. They were laughing at his misery and calling for him to join their dance.

The son of a somewhat famous Magniman couple, the father Adosh a renowned retired Shoanti warrior now working as a guide for the local Pathfinder lodge and the mother Reilia Gaczi a well regarded alchemist on Cinder Alley, Corso had always lived partly in books and dreamed of living and writing a great novel about freedom from oppression.

In his teens, Corso renounced the comforts of taking over the family’s trades and decided instead to follow his friends, enrolling in an expedition to support the Black Arrows of Fort Rennick against the mighty giants of the North. His spirit and those of his comrades were bolstered by the experience, though, truth be told, the Black Arrows kept them away from the hardest battles. The band of friends returned home, but not as heroes. Their parents were infuriated and severe measures were taken to beat the adventuring spirit out of them, but it did the opposite. The band soon joined again and this time, boarded a ship bearing south to fabled Garund, to join the Kalabutan resistance against Chelish interests in exotic Sargava.

He bought a commission and became sergeant, leading his friends, but on their first incursion, most of them died in a storm of fire before they managed to surrender. Five years in a Chelish working camp followed suit.

His easy way with words, his knowledge of alchemy, and his sergeant status made Corso a sort of leader figure for the thralls in his camp. As the years went by, and conditions steadily worsened, he decided that it was time to try his luck. With his closest friends, he put together a complex escape plan. Clouds covered the moon and filled the night with a deep darkness as they made for the Bandu Hills, but, just as Corso was climbing the camp’s long walls, the wind shifted, the clouds parted, and an unkindness of ravens took flight with loud caws and clicks. Within minutes, the band of escapees was rounded up and brought back to camp, where they were sentenced to hang.

The burning in his neck pushed back his vision of the past and brought the here and now back into painful focus, From the corner of his eyes, Corso caught sight of his friends’ death throes. His life spread thin as a gold wire, his vision blurred and darkened, Corso fought for breath, uncannily clinging to life, until the rope suddenly snapped. An eager raven had landed on his head and snapped at the rope just as the hangman had come to pull on the condemned’s legs. Corso fell right on him, snapping his neck with a crack that sent the ravens flying and cawing above the gallows.

Fearful superstition got the better of the camp’s chief and Corso was released, put on a boat, and exhiled. The boat headed north to Riddleport, but once near the coast of Varisia, the superstitious captain opted for safety and threw Corso overboard. The Shoanti made it to the shore after hours of struggle. He realized he was on the road between Magnimar, where his parents lived, and Sandpoint. He grabbed a big piece of floatsam to use as a club and, with nothing but the diamond he has managed to keep hidden this long, turned north towards the Sandpoint, his cunning smile defying the gods.

As a result of bad choices and bad fate, Corso has lived through painful disillusions and lost many friends, but the greatest adventures have a cost, as do the numbing lives of people like his parents, and Corso wants none of that. He remains keen on living life to its fullest, but he is now a little more weary of the cost to others. He still wishes to live and write the great novel about the fight for freedom, but he does not want to be its sole survivor.

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