Thurin Foehammer's page

Psionic Duergar
* Stats: +2 Con, +2 Wis, -2 Cha
* Type: Duergar are of the humanoid (dwarf) subtype.
* Speed: Duergar have a base speed of 20 feet, but their speed is never modified by armor or encumbrance.
* Vision: Duergar have darkvision 60 ft. See Vision and Light for details.
* Languages: Duergars begin play speaking Common, Dwarven, and Undercommon. Duergar with high Intelligence scores can choose from the following: Aklo, Draconic, Giant, Goblin, Orc, and Terran.
* Method to the Madness: While you might appear to be mad, there is a mental order to your actions. You gain a +2 racial bonus to Will saves and gain call to mind as a psi-like ability usable once per day with a manifester level equal to your character level. This trait replaces the Hardy trait.
* Stability
* Dwarf Blood: Duergars count as dwarves for any effect related to race.
* Light Sensitivity (Ex): Duergars are dazzled in an area of bright light. A dazzled creature takes a -1 on all attack rolls and Search and Spot checks.
* Duergar Psionics: Duergars gain the following psi-like abilities: 1/day—expansion and cloud mind. These abilities affect only the duergar and his gear. The manifester level for these effects is equal to the duergar’s level (minimum 3rd). The DC for cloud mind is equal to 10 + the power’s level + the duergar’s Charisma modifier.
* Naturally Psionic: Duergars gain the Wild Talent feat as a bonus feat at 1st level. If a duergar takes levels in a psionic class, he instead gains the Psionic Talent feat.
* Psionic Aptitude: When a duergar takes a level in a favored class, he can choose to gain an additional power point instead of a hit point or skill point.

Traits
* Scion of Legend: Choose two skills for which your associated hero has skill ranks (Diplomacy, Perception) You gain a +1 trait bonus on checks with both of those skills, and those two skills are class skills for you. Once per adventure as a free action, you can call upon a previously forgotten bit of advice or lore imparted to you by the hero to gain an insight bonus equal to your class level (minimum +10) to a skill check. You may choose to apply this bonus after you roll the skill check, but must do so before the result of the roll is known.
* Ancestral Weapon: Free cold iron masterwork weapon, +1 hit with cold iron
* Resilient: +1 Fortitude
* Paranoid: Anyone who attempts an aid another action of any type to assist you must succeed at a DC 15 check instead of the normal DC 10 check.

Feats
Lvl 1: Power Attack, Furious Focus, Wild Talent (Your latent power of psionics flares to life, conferring upon you the designation of a psionic character. As a psionic character, you gain a reserve of 2 power points and can take psionic feats, metapsionic feats, and psionic item creation feats. You do not, however, gain the ability to manifest powers simply by virtue of having this feat.), Psionic Talent (+2 power points)
Lvl 3: Weapon Focus
Lvl 5: Ironhide
Lvl 7: Weapon Specialization
Lvl 9: Improved Critical
Lvl 11: Toughness
Lvl 13: Tough as Iron
Lvl 15: Greater Weapon Focus
Lvl 17: Greater Weapon Specialization
Lvl 19: Dodge

Skills
* Diplomacy: +3
* Craft Armor: +4
* Craft Weapons: +4
* Perception: +9

Psicrystal Skills
* K Dungeoneering, Psionics, Arcana : +4
* K All: +0

Equipment
* Lamellar Steel Armor (35lbs)
* MW Cold Iron nodachi Duergar Sword with weapon cord (8lbs)
* Cold Iron Dagger (1lb)
* Monk's Kit (This kit includes a masterwork backpack, a belt pouch, a blanket, rope, soap, torches (10), trail rations (5 days), and a waterskin.) (22lbs)
* Smith Tools (5lbs)
* 2x chakrams (2lbs)
* 8 gold

Augmented Blade
* Lvl 3 (+1) Lvl 4 (+2) Lvl 5 (+3) Lvl 7 (+4) Lvl 9 (+5) Lvl 11 (+5) Lvl 12 (+6) Lvl 13 (+7) Lvl 15 (+8) Lvl 17 (+9) Lvl 19 (+10)
* Psychokinetic (+1d4 damage) -> Shocking -> Flaming -> Frost -> Corrosive

Carry Capacity
* 0-76 (light)
* 77–153 (medium)
* 154–230 (heavy)
* Current: 73 lbs

Psychic Powers
* 1/day SLAs: Call to Mind, Expansion, Cloud Mind

Blade Skills
Lvl 2: Focused Offense (Gain psionic focus in the morning, retain it until unconscious. As long as the soulknife maintains psionic focus, he adds his Wisdom modifier to his attack and damage rolls instead of his Strength modifier.)
Lvl 4: Improved Psicrystal Augment (+1 enchantment bonus)
Lvl 6: Psionic Feat - Open Minded (+1 skill point per lvl)
Lvl 8: Telepathic Gift
Lvl 10: Deadly Blow (+1 multiplier on crits)
Lvl 12: Improved Enchantment (+1 enchantment bonus)
Lvl 14: Telepathic Gift (Telepathy 100ft)
Lvl 16: Penetrating Strike
Lvl 18: Greater Penetrating Strike
Lvl 20: Advanced Weapon Training

Weapon Training
Lvl 6: Heavy Blade
Lvl 12: Versatile Training
Lvl 18: Fighter’s Reflexes
Lvl 20 (Feat): Focused Weapon

Gifted Blade Powers
Lvl 3: Force Screen
Lvl 5: Burst
Lvl 7: Body Adjustment
Lvl 9: Body Purification
Lvl 11: Hustle
Lvl 14: Dimension Slide
Lvl 17: Slip the Bonds

Psicrystal Affinity

At 1st level, the augmented blade gains the Psicrystal Affinity blade skill. This replaces the throw mind blade class feature.

Psicrystal Augment

At 1st level, the augmented blade learns how to attach her psicrystal to a weapon and cause it to bond to the item as a move action (reclaiming the psicrystal is a free action). Some weapons become covered in a thin sheen of crystal, for other augmented blades the entire weapon becomes psychic energy – the result is the same regardless of the cosmetic appearance. Once bonded, this psicrystal augmentation allows for the bonded weapon to be used with blade skills and is treated as a masterwork item when augmented. Weapons created through temporary means (such as the call weaponry power, or the flame blade spell) may not be bonded with the augmented blade’s psicrystal due to their ephemeral nature.

If the augmented blade is ever separated from her weapon (or an item augmented by her psicrystal), the psicrystal stays with that object(s) as long as the item stays within range of the augmented blade and his telepathic link (one mile) with the psicrystal. At any time, the augmented blade can cause the psicrystal to abandon them item as a free action within that range and command her psicrystal as normal.

Starting at 3rd level, the bonded weapon gains a cumulative +1 enhancement bonus that increases every odd level thereafter that they may spend on an actual enhancement bonus or on weapon special abilities. An augmented blade’s level determines her maximum enhancement bonus. The augmented blade may (and must, when her total enhancement is higher than her maximum bonus) apply any special ability from Table: Weapon Special Abilities instead of an enhancement bonus, as long as she meets the level requirements. This overrides any magical or psionic enhancements that may already be on this weapon, but the weapon retains any material or masterwork bonuses it may have. An augmented blade can choose any combination of weapon special abilities and/or enhancement bonus for attack and damage rolls before assigning any special abilities each time that the augmented blade uses this ability. This replaces the Form Mind Blade and Enhanced Mind Blade class features, but counts as Form Mind Blade and Enhanced Mind Blade for prerequisites or requirements.

Wild Talent

The soulknife gains Wild Talent as a bonus feat at 1st level. This provides her with the psionic power necessary to manifest her mind blade. A character who is already psionic instead gains the Psionic Talent feat.

Informant Hero Psicrystal

Thurin worked the forge. It was a joyless task. It was an emotionless task. He made axes. He made swords. He made helmets. He made shields. Every day he made these things without a thought as towards why. He didn't know who would use them. He didn't even know if they would be used. It was his task to make them, so make them he did. The slaves brought in the raw materials and he worked. The slaves took the weapons away and he worked. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. The duergar toiled away. The only ones who might have worked harder than him were the slaves, though in a sense, he was as much as slave as they.

This changed when he was called for patrol duty. It was another thankless which he performed because it was his clan's duty, and as such it was his. He and his kinsmen would walk the Deep Roads and be on a look out for any trouble. It was duty, and it also refreshed the mind, so that they might return to their craft with efficiency. He had walked those roads dozens of times and he was certain that he would do so dozens of times again. Though this time was different. It was different because he found...a dwarf. Or more specifically the corpse of a dwarf. Well, the remains of the corpse of a dwarf. It had fallen prey to one of the many giant spiders which defended their home. Thurin walked forward to see what was left, and turned his nose up in disgust. The dwarf's armor, which had not been eaten, was ostentatious. What use were the small horns on the helm? They served no purpose. He would never have added something so superfluous. And the axe? It had runes on it, when it wasn't even magical. Runes...that were for show. No wonder the dwarf had died, when it had been so impractical. It was only too bad that the dwarf had died when it could have been a slave. Wasted resources. He almost turned away when he noticed something. There was a piece of metal clutched in the dwarf's skeletal hand. He bent down and pried it open. The duergar's eyes went wide. He had heard of these artifacts before. Used by bards and other psychic practitioners, they held shared mindscapes as reminders of the past and to inspire the youth for the future. The duergar pulled it loose and held it up.

"What's happening here?" He heard a gruff voice from behind. Without thinking he put the metal in his pocket and turned around to see an elder approaching. "Dead surfacer. Eaten by a spider." He responded. The elder walked over and looked down at the dead dwarf. "Gather the arms and armor. They can be remade." The duergar nodded.

--------

Once home he stared at the piece of metal. He knew that he should be working. He wasn't eating, he wasn't sleeping, he wasn't defecating...so that meant that he should be working. But something about the metal called to him. Using his latent psychic power he clutched the metal and opened up his mind.

Back in Sandpoint, Drazh stared at the helmet. It had been a team effort to haul it back. Ferocia had claimed an amulet that hardened her skin. Marten had claimed a Spellbook, Azalia had an enchanted blade, Miron had a magical breastplate. And he...had this.

The familiar on his shoulder hopped down and paced around it. He could feel it’s excitement. He was sure that the others thought him crazy when he claimed the massive helmet. He was certain that the townspeople thought him mad when he had spent nearly every last gold crown he had renting this forge and the supplies he needed.

But he was not crazy. That he knew. The helm...within it, under the gold and bronze, was Mithril. He could smell it. He could feel it calling to him in his soul. With a grin he went to work.

For days Drazh worked. He didn’t eat. He barely slept. He had a vision! The core of the helm was made of Mithril. And he knew that he could make it into a suit of armor. Something worthy of Torag’s name. His familiar, a gift from the gods, worked furiously beside him. It kept the billows going, it cooled heated metal, and it brought him the tools he needed.

By the third day, the proprietor was getting worried. The sound of hammer on anvil did not cease. It was as if though there was an entire team of craftsmen in the small forge. On the fourth day she peeked inside. What she saw was a dwarf, with giant bags under his eyes, cursing as he worked.

On the fifth day she snuck in food and water. The two were wolfed down without a word.

On the seventh day the ranting started. It was all in dwarven, but a few words crept in that were common. Vengeance. Giants.

On the ninth day the dwarf cried as he worked, calling out for his wife. The name Brunhilda was roared to the heavens. He was shaking, seeing things. At times he thought he was at Grung Varn. His clothing had been soaked through with sweat several times over.

On the tenth day she had come back with a physician. The dwarf had finally passed out. Before him was a suit of fullplate armor, made from Mithril. It was covered with gold filgree, the names of the dead written upon it.

A miracle had occurred. Something which should have take years had been made in a week and a half. It had nearly driven him to madness. It had nearly claimed his life. But the hand of the divine was evident in the marvelous construction.

Thurin opened his eyes, and with some confusion raised a hand to his face. Why was his face wet? The duergar pulled his hand down and saw tears upon his fingers. He was...crying? Emotions touched his heart of coal, emotions that he had never felt before. Filled with confusion he got up and put the piece of metal down. He had work to do, and to his shame he had not gotten to it.

Minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into days. But time did not creep on without stop. It was felt. Thurin knew something was wrong because when he worked he *thought* which was not right. He was supposed to be lost in his work, but instead he was present. The slaves brought in materials and he noticed them. They looked scared when he looked at them, for he had never done so before. For the very first time he actually acknowledged their presence. It scared him as much as it did them. He lay down to sleep, and for the first time he could not do so. All he could think about was the vision. The duergar crawled out of bed and retrieved the stone. He held it in his fist and opened his mind...

...the next day he was tired. He had never been tired as such before. He was making a helmet, and as he did so he added little horns to it. They did not need horns. They were impractical. But he had done so. The helmet was soon broken and melted down, with fear gripping his heart. He could not let any other see it. It would be the death of him. With a scowl he went to the shard of metal and threw it away into a pile of slag. He did not see the metal grow four legs and skitter off of the pile.

Days went by and he forced himself to work, but it wore at him. He was mentally tired. Thurin cursed himself for his weakness. He cursed the dead dwarf that he had found. He cursed the shard of metal! And as he cursed the shard he looked up and saw it on his table. Only now it was not just a shard of metal. Not it looked like a small iron hammer. With a trembling hand he reached out and picked it up. As he did he felt a *flash* and a name came to him. Drazh Anviltamer. It was a burly dwarf who wore the mithril and gold armor from his vision. He carried a hammer with a silver head that had a haft covered in dragonskin. The dwarf laughed, a bellowing sound which was completely absent from Thurin's life. With a gasp he stood up, looking around at his spartan home. Trembling he stared at the shard of metal. He knew then that his life was over. He could not live like this. Sooner or later he would be found out and he would be killed for being a heretic. His actions would shame the clan and there would be no forgiveness. The very best that he could hope for was that he would be made a slave.

The next day Thurin went to the gates and told the guards that his clan had called him to patrol. They did not question him, for why would he lie? They knew him. Everyone knew each other. He was a duergar of excellent reputation. He never lied, he only worked and did what he was told. The gates opened and with forced calm he walked through. He walked down the Deep Roads as he had done dozens of times before. Only this time he did not look back.

---

Thurin walked through the Darklands alone. He did not have enough food, nor did he have enough water. He did not even know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to run, because his Clan would come for him. That he knew, for his actions would dishonor them. He had to escape. So he marched ever onward, driven by a burning desire. Who was this Drazh Anviltamer? Why did that laughing visage haunt him so? He had to know this before he died.

The duergar came to the surface in the mountains of Kaer Maga in an ancient ruin. The duergar blinked and squinted at the tyranny of the sun. Half starved and dangerously dehydrated he had completed his own personal Quest for Sky. With the shard of metal clutched in his hand he fled into the alien world, confident that here his people could not pursue him. When he came upon a stream of water he nearly dove into it. Once his thirst was satiated he took stock of where he was and what he had to do.

Thurin knows little about the surface world, and has never heard the name of Roderic's Cove before. But he knows a few things. First he can speak common, for that is the language that the slaves speak. He can speak dwarven, for it is his own tongue, even if the dialect is different. And he has come to terms with the name of the God that has cursed him: Torag. For the metal shard that he cannot throw away has taken upon the shape of that deity. And he knows that this Drazh Anviltamer was a dwarf that was blessed by the God of Smiths. No longer does Thurin feel the pull of Dorskar, now it is only the song of Torag's anvil that beats in his heart, along with the desire to create.

Alone in a foreign land, filled with 'lesser races' that he had only ever thought of as slave stock, the duergar must now find himself, and discover what it is that Torag has called him to do.