nicholas storm wrote:
If I was the GM, I wouldn't allow you to do adoptive parentage to get weapon focus with a weapon you aren't proficient with.
I would be more likely to let you retrain the bonus human feat into weapon focus later.
I think it is more flavorful to not have the proficiency and allows a constant input from Sarenrae via the Ioun Stone as a means to grow and develop the character into a true avatar for the god. If he goes off the beaten path the god rescinds his favor, rescinds the training with the scimitar.
Example backstory (sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors):
A battered, bleeding, and wounded man looks up at the hooded figure.
"Why are you doing this... just let me go..."
"Let me tell you a story." The figure replies.
"There was once a child named Felix. He was a carefree pup. He lived with his father in an old monastery. One day, his father caught him drawing on the floors with the new red paint. Felix didn't know that paint was meant for walls only. In hindsight, Felix's dad was very patient with him"
"CLEAN THAT UP NOW Felix!" The Father Yelled.
"The abbot is just one more incident away from throwing us both out on our ears. Son, you know I love you. But we have to be careful. We can't go back to the way it was on the outside. Here we have food and shelter. Out there is nothing but bandits and thieves taking what isn't rightfully there's. I know its a hard adjustment, but I need you to follow the rules here. I expect you to clean that up before the abbot returns this afternoon. But... if you're really fast about it, I think I can get you some of the paint for your room. Maybe we can draw something on the wall so you feel more like this is your home."
"Felix agreed, he'd always wanted to paint a sunrise on his bedroom wall and thought the red would make great sun."
"It seemed like hours passed. Brushing, washing, brushing, washing, brushing, and more washing in a dim little hallway. Amidst his toiling Felix suddenly felt a surge of heat pass over his body. He looked up to see waves of pure light pore through the glass veranda door, pulsating and undulating like a slow heart beat. The light beckoned to Felix like a siren's call, leaving his vision blinded save for the fuzzy white outline of the doorway's long curved arch and paneled windows. Aware of nothing else, Felix dropped his scrubber and shambled out the door, one hand trying fruitlessly to shade his eyes."
"Felix reached the doorway and again was met by pulsating light. This time though, it was half way down the long tree rimmed corridor that backed onto the property on the backside of the monastery. You can imagine, the childlike glee of Felix. Chasing and laughing as the light moved just out of reach, leading Felix on a merry chase through the nearby forest. An innocent challenge and an innocent challenger."
"Poor Felix remembers it too. It was the last time he ever laughed. Perhaps it might re-jog your memory if I tell you that the monastery was the sun-peaks monastery, not 60 miles from here. It shuttered its doors about 15 years ago."
The wounded man on the ground shuttered out a hard, raspy, blood seasoned swallow.
"Oh, you do remember it. Then I need not remind you about what Felix found when that light finally led him back home? I won't remind you of the broken shattered bones that jutted out of his arms."
The hooded figure reached down, flipping the man onto his stomach. Grabbing each arm one at a time and smashing them into the stone steps, savoring the sickening snaps.
"I won't remind you of the blackened leg, burned to a crisp"
The hooded figure reclaims a fallen torch from stairs and presses it into the mans left knee.
"But what I won't remind you of most colour red. At first, I thought it was paint and wanted to yell at my dad for painting the floor. Why was he allowed to do it but not me? It only took me a few moments to realize that it was every ounce, every drop of blood that had once coursed through my father's veins. I can tell you that blood is far harder to wash and brush, wash and brush, wash and brush out of the stones than red paint. Believe me, I tried for days amidst the corpses you left. Its a lesson that soon your son will learn when he scrubs your blood off these steps. The hardest part though was having to pick out the shattered hairy pieces of skull. They always want to catch on things…”
A resounding series wet muffled thuds punctuate the air and the man's skull is crush in by Felix's feet. The figure lifts off his hood and pulls out a stone from his pocket. It's warm light pulsating like it did 15 years ago.
"You have done well." The stone spoke. "Redemption is yours for the slaughter of my followers and... for your father. Take hold of his scimitar, it belonged to my temple, to my flock… and now it shall belong to you. It has been a long time in the making my flower, but from darkness comes the light... From the shadow comes the fire of dawn. Rise Felix Shadowfire."
