Maylin grumbles, "The Hendersson woman just had twins. Again. You don't want to know what I've been 'up to'." Still, the dwarf appreciates a drink. Especially a good one. She flashes Colberg a small smile. JUST A SMALL ONE.
It is evening in Heldren. There is a chill in the air as you make your way toward The Silver Stoat, Heldren's only tavern. Whether you've lived in Heldren your entire life or are newly arrived, you know that this is a fixture of village life and that the tavern fills with patrons as they gather to share gossip, hear news and reward themselves with a mug of Three Devil Ale for their hard day's work. As you cross the threshold, you are greeted by a crackling fire, the smell of delicious steaks, and the sounds of hearty conversation.
The tavern doors swing open with a strong gust of cold air and it takes a moment for anyone to realize it was not merely the wind opening those doors, but a small fire-haired gnome. He has the look of a traveler, his boots are worn and caked with the dirt of many miles, his tightly drawn cloak is frayed at the edges, and you doubt the pistol hanging from his belt is even serviceable. Quite nimble, the gnome begins making his way across the crowded common room, slipping between two brawling men, applauding at the idea of using a tankard as a weapon. Nosh is almost to the bar when he spies the empty seats at a table with the largest man eating the largest man eating the largest steak he's ever seen. Nosh quickly changes course, almost tripping a serving girl in his haste, and arrives just in time to hear the strange woman inquiring about the open seats. "If your accepting invitations, might I grab an empty chair as well?" Nosh doesn't wait for a response but climbs up to stand on his seat and starts waving at the nearest serving girl "One Three Devil Ale please, and a full pint this time!" Once he's made sure his order has been received, he plops down into his seat, Hello, I'm Nosh, isn't the ale here great! What's your name, you look like a giant, and that steak is huge! And what's your name, I've never seen anyone with eyes like yours, where are you from?" As nosh unleashes his flurry of questions, he places his pistol on the table and then unloads a pouch of the strangest and most useless collection of items you've ever seen. His hands seem to work independently, grabbing this and that poking and adjusting every nook and cranny of the pistol.
you are pretty sure that the strange gnome just tried to load a scorpion tale into his pistol, then changed his mind and started using the tip of the tail to adjust some small knob on the side.
Would be bringing this character down to level 1, should be completed tomorrow
Alinza is bewildered by the gnome, but being found of fun persons, answer while sitting down: Alinza. Well met stranger. And if you're sitting, then I'm gonna sit also, gods know I'm tired, standing around in the cold sucks. Being a guard sucks. After sitting down she shouts:An ale for me also! Then she turns towards the gnome and says: Somewhere north, but if you're asking about the eye. Have you ever heard of a hag?
"I don't mind the cold, but I don't want to be a guard........A hag, you mean like a witch right? I met a witch once, she was white, and pretty, and smelt funny. Alinza, I like that name, much prettier than Nosh" Once the Ale arrives, Nosh eager takes a sip, then sets it down with a puzzled expression on his face. He studies the contents of a cup for a moment then looks up "I can barely taste any Devil in this, maybe she brought me the wrong drink" Despite his conerns, the serving girl insists that his cup does contain Three Devil Ale and that it does not actually have any devil in it. "I wonder why they call it Three Devil Ale if there is no devil in it? I've never seen a devil, do they drink Ale?" Apparently finished adjusting the pistol for now, Nosh begins repacking his strange collection of "tools", among them 3 bent nails, red string, a dusty rabbits foot, a scorpion tail, half of a lock-pick set, a cracked magnifying glass, and a melted piece of silver that used to be a coin.
Okay, I think I'm settling on the witch.
About me: I can post at least once a day, often more than that.
I am currently in one other pbp, which has been running in various guises for somewhere between one and two years.
When I first awoke into this world as I am now, my memory tells me of a vague feeling of numb coldness, as if I were aware of someone else shivering, but not really feeling it myself personally. The next I remember is a fleeting impression of looking up; as if from lying on my back and staring up at the sky - glimpses of a pale, ghostly moon overhead, etched and framed by bare winter branches. The sensation of something skittering by next to my ear, then darkness as my eyes closed once more.
The next I awake it is with a sudden start, my throat closing as I claw for breath. Wide eyed, I look down to see the scorpion. It strikes. Searing pain, I can’t move. It is then that I hear the mournful cry of wolves in the distance, but drawing nearer.
It skitters across my chest, the curved tail of the scorpion brandished threateningly, or so I think. I feel its poison course through me like fire. I twitch, muscles long ago atrophied from the cold come to life. The wolves cry again. No, not wolves, much worse than mere wolves. And very near now. I scramble to my feet, the shadowy forest lurching and spinning dizzily around me. I take a step, then another. A third, and I am running. My clothes catch and are torn by clawing branches that reach for me. The scorpion grips me, claws digging into my shoulder for purchase. I pay it no heed now. Odd, that.
The shadowy hounds chase, drawing nearer, nipping at my heels. One of the beastly creatures lunges for me, teeth bared and reaching for my throat. I scream, falling backwards, tripping on something in the dark. The beast lunges, jaws reaching when suddenly, everything goes still. Not a sound, not even the wind. The beast hangs suspended in midair, its fangs gleaming in the moonlight. Just as suddenly, the beast ‘poofs’, drifting apart as if mist dispersed in an instant by the sun. I feel laughter, amusement. I can’t tell if it is someone nearby that I hear or if it is my own laughter, echoing within a mind overwrought.
“You are not done as yet, Morrigan.” The voice is deep, resonant. I frown. That is not my name. I open my mouth to say as much, frown again. I can’t remember my name – I can’t remember anything. My throat goes dry.
“Go, you cannot stay here. Your moment is passing and soon gone.” The voice commands, and then it also is gone, like time past. I feel suddenly empty. My knees are wobbly. Who am I? I wonder, a moment of panic gripping me. Movement grabs my attention. A flutter of wings as a crow stares down at me from a branch above. Dark wings, dark words. The phrase leaps into my mind from I know not where – an echo of a forgotten past. It is the only thing moving now in the dark night. It… and me. The crow opens his beak and croaks. “Mooor!” I blink, staring at him. He cocks his head to the side in the manner of birds, his eye unnaturally upon me. “Mooor – a pause – eeKan!!” I run, fleeing as the crow mocks me, his raucous croaks pursue me into the night. “Moooreekhan Moooreeegan… Mooorighan…. Morrrigan!!”
Serte - Morrigan now - was born to a nomadic Kellid household in the Realm of the Mammoth Lords. Her childhood was much as one would expect of that people. Her father was a hunter of the tribe, her mother a herbs-woman.
When she was thirteen or fourteen, her clan was traveling perhaps too close to the border of Irrisen, for her ‘caravan’ was beset upon by shadow fey. Serte was separated from the others, chased by the fey hounds, and became lost in the events described above. Lost in more than one way, for she has no recollection of who she was before the mysterious ‘voice’ interceded(?) on her behalf. The first conscious memories she has is that of waking in the forest. She has an awareness that there was a life before, but of that life, there is nothing, live voids in her mind. However, sometimes she will just happen to –know- things without knowing how she knows them - random bits of knowledge that will pop into her mind, when she doesn't concentrate too hard. She gets dreams, often nightmares, but also sometimes images, feelings, impressions that skim the surface of what might have been, but they thus far have skittered away as she tried to focus on them.
The ‘voice’ has not since made itself known, and what he might be is as much a mystery as everything else. A god? A spirit or ghost from her past? Or another of the denizens of the shadowy fey realm? Only he can say.
1. The adventure starts in the village of Heldren, a small village in Taldor just north of the Border Wood near Qadira. All characters should be residents of Heldren. Were you born there? Are you newly arrived?
Since that fateful night, Morrigan has wandered the lands, fate bringing her a few months ago to the village of Heldren, where she has taken up temporary residence and side jobs to replenish her dwindling coins.
2. If you're playing as a common race, how do you view other, rarer races? If you're playing as an uncommon race, how did you come to live among the common?
Though she’s usually a bit reserved, Morrigan has a curiosity about the world and its various denizens. She holds no particular grudges towards any race, though orcs have made her nervous on occassion. Typically she is willing to give anyone the benefit of the doubt – until or unless they prove themselves untrustworthy.
3. What will your character contribute to the party in and out of battle?
In battle, Morrigan would likely assume the role of debuffer / buffer and ‘emergency’ healing. (Though I’d be willing to rework that if needed). Her spell selection will run towards battlefield control and some survivability / utility spells.
Out of combat, she will strive to make herself useful and carry her weight. In keeping with her ‘shadow’ theme, I think she will also invest in stealth skill and can possibly serve in that function if necessary. She is fairly well traveled and has a gift for languages, which may come in handy in the days ahead. Personality wise, she is friendly, if a bit reserved around new acquaintances and is extremely loyal and dependable to those who have earned her friendship.
4. What goals/aspirations does your character have? These don't always need to be lofty or noble.
Morrigan has never lost her family’s affinity for Desna. She shares the deity’s affinity for travel and exploration. She also both desires and fears to discover the secrets of her past. She knows the scars and tribal markings dotting her body are a clue to her past, but she is torn as to whether to actively seek out the answers a part of her wants to know. Of late, she has been itching to move on with her journeys and has been toying with the idea of returning to the north – a journey that could take months and give her time to consider her next move.
In the long term, Morrigan desires knowledge and power. She recognizes that the two often go hand in hand. She seeks both, though her goals and reasons are mostly benign. Her desire for power is more as a means to make herself feel safe in a world often the opposite, rather than from a desire to harm or rule over others.
Now to work on the mechanics...
I've decided to go with my Inquisitor character, but I'm not sure where to host the character sheet. Is Myth-Weavers fine?
"Twins again?!" Colberg shakes his head and looks down at his drink and takes a deep swig, "She gots enough of them little rascals runnin all over the place. She is worse than a snow hare in heat I tell ya. Soon there'll be so many of them, people gonna be stepping on them." Most people wouldn't be able to tell if he was talking about stepping on hares or children.
Colberg turns on his chair and looks at the rest of the tavern, "Aye, been seein lotsa new folk lately around the trails, and I can see why. Tonsa new faces here tonight." He spots the small gnome at one of the tables putting away his odds and ends, "Some mighty peculiar new faces I might add." A quizzical expression crosses his face as he turns back to Maylin. "been staying outa trouble? No one been pestering you? Cause if they have... I'll have ta thank them fer keeping ya on yer toes." Colberg laughs heartily and takes another deep swig from his tankard.
Yes they are witches though they aren't pretty, I'm the daughter of such, we always have mismatched eyes. I think it's one color from our father one from our hag mother. Once the Ale arrives Alinza drinks it heartily, smiling between sips at the gnome antics.
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Quzman, Half-Elf Quadiran wandering bard
1. The adventure starts in the village of Heldren, a small village in Taldor just north of the Border Wood near Qadira. All characters should be residents of Heldren. Were you born there? Are you newly arrived?
I have been here a few weeks, this small village reminds me of the place where I grew up. I'm planning to move on to Taldor's capital, but I'm in no hurry, the people here are warm and seem to truly enjoy my stories.
2. If you're playing as a common race, how do you view other, rarer races? If you're playing as an uncommon race, how did you come to live among the common?
I follow the precepts of the Dawnflower, showing tolerance and patience towards creatures of all races that embrace peace, and the swift justice of the scimitar to those that only embrace evil.
3. What will your character contribute to the party in and out of battle?
I have travelled far, and heard stories from ever further. I offer my knowledge, as well as my ability to talk and understand people.
I'm also quite capable of defending myself and I have a few arcane tricks up my sleeve.
4. What goals/aspirations does your character have? These don't always need to be lofty or noble.
My wish is to travel, to visit distant lands and bring there my stories, and learn of theirs in turn.
Abandoned as an infant, he was raised by a priest of Sarenrae in a small town. The old priest taught him the precepts of his religion and a wealth of information acquired on his years of travels, Quzman learned general knowledge, languages and even use of the scimitar and how to survive in the hostile Quadiran desert.
After the old priest died of natural causes, Quzman found that knowing about distant lands wasn’t enough, and set forth to experience it firsthand.
Being poor but talented, he got a spot helping a troupe of itinerant entertainers, from one of them he learned to draw arcane power from his performances.
Tired of touring Quadira, Quzman set forth to visit the northern Taldor. Taldorans mistrust his Kelish looks and mannerism, but his natural charm and his skill playing the Setar never fails to win at least some smiles.
Slowly making his way north, he lodged in the Silver Stoat in the small town of Haldren. The community reminds him of his childhood in Quadira, and tough he’s waiting for the appropriate opportunity to move on to Taldor’s capital, he is in no hurry to leave, as the locals enjoy his performances and his tales.
Traits: Restless Wayfarer, Temple Child
Feats: Skill Focus: Survival, Martial weapon proficiency (heavy blades), Spellsong
STR 8
DEX 14
CON 12
INT 13
WIS 12
CHA 18
Skills:
Bluff (Cha) +8
Diplomacy (Cha) +8
Knowledge (geography) +6
Knowledge (religion) +6
Knowledge (local) +2
Knowledge (Nobility) +2
Perform (String) +8
Perform (Oratory) +8
Sense Motive (Wis) +5
1. The adventure starts in the village of Heldren, a small village in Taldor just north of the Border Wood near Qadira. All characters should be residents of Heldren. Were you born there? Are you newly arrived?
Ingvar is a native of Heldren. He was born to a blacksmith and his wife in the the town, but found the forge to be too hot for him. Finding comfort in the cold, he discovered his powers. Now he ventures out to discover the source of his arcane abilities.
2. If you're playing as a common race, how do you view other, rarer races? If you're playing as an uncommon race, how did you come to live among the common?
Ingvar views other races with intrigue, but particularly half-elves and orcs, distanced from one of their birth cultures. Still, he is very stand-offish and aloof most of the time.
3. What will your character contribute to the party in and out of battle?
Ingvar provides a combination of damage and crowd control, slowing and chilling enemies from a distance. Out of combat, he's a survivalist, and can navigate well in the frozen wastes.
4. What goals/aspirations does your character have? These don't always need to be lofty or noble.
Ingvar wants to become in tune with his arcane powers, and discover the source of them. Despite not being educated, he is still curious as to how the magical world works.
Now for the fun part!
Ingvar stood outside this tavern. Looking up at the sky, he feels the brushing of snow on his bearded face. Sighing, he thinks to himself, "Why am I even considering going inside? It's quite comfortable out here--" Interrupting his thoughts was a loud grumble. He hadn't eaten all day. He would have kept it that way, too, but the day turned to dusk, and the nastiest of rime-beasts made their way out of their dens at this hour. Swallowing his pride, he walks inside the too-busy, too-loud, and much-too-hot tavern.
However, the smell of the freshly cooked steak can tempt even the most stoic and hardened of men. "Alright, get yourself a seat, and get something to eat. You don't have to stay very long." As he begins to relax, the cold from his bones escapes, . He visibly loosened himself, and he thought to himself, "If they're having themselves a good time, I don't see why I shouldn't. Even if it's a little forced.
He sees a gnome and what appears to be a young woman. He takes a seat next to the gnome. He orders his steak--"Bloody. And with a frothy mug of the house beer." He inspects the gnome closer, seeing the odd gadgets that he carries. Ingvar turns to the quirky fellow, saying "That's an odd collection of... trinkets." Unsure of how that came out, he turns slightly towards the counter, in the case that he needs to disengage from the conversation.
And, that settles that. I'm out, thank you
Updated the list and fixed my earlier mistakes... I think.
Arcane
- Delweir – Human Wizard (Infernal Binder) – Bill Lumberg
- Fiallain Bo’airr - Human (Aiel) Witch – Jenrah
- Jalin Naerius – Human Sorcerer (Wildblooded) – Viluki
- Ingvar Coldeye – Human Sorcerer – Nameless Nick
Combat
- Alinza Viski – Changeling Magus (Hexcrafter) – Rafael the Silent
- Argyros Amyntas – Aasimar (Azata) Fighter – Michael Sumrall
- Asmar Eriksson – Human (Ulfen) Fighter (Rondelero Duelist) – Pezmerga
- Carl Ironeater – Dwarven Invulnerable Rager Barbarian – FireberdGNOME
- Colberg - Dwarf Ranger – Tie My Shoelace
- Golbar the Wanderer – Human Barbarian – mattdude00
- Nathaniel Artegal Boote – Halfling Paladin – Terquem
- Nikaana – Tengu Monk – Jubal Breakbottle
- Nosh – Gome Gunslinger (Pistolero) – MundinIronHand
- Ragnar Deathspeaker – Half-orge Oracle of Bones – Doomed Hero
- Sigrun Jagrsdottir - Human (Ulfen) Barbarian (Invulnerable Rager) – Mark Thomas 66
Divine
- Bjornin the Wildling – Human Druid (Arctic) – Patrick McDade
- Maylin – Dwarf Cleric – lexibean
- Ragnar Deathspeaker – Half-orge Oracle of Bones – Doomed Hero
Skill/Utility/Misc
- Bryce Eivanson - Human Inquisitor (Witch Hunter) – Mythril Dragon
- Colberg - Dwarf Ranger – Tie My Shoelace
- Inquisitor – Inquisitor – Xisifer
- Quzman – Hal-elf Bard – POL
Interest:
- – Castarr4
- – Ptolmaeus Arvenus
- – littlehewy
EDIT:
And, that settles that. I'm out, thank you
Awwww don't say that. I'm sure someone will join you for wine or possibly a damsel in distress may come and find you... or a drunk dwarf will fall on top of you. D:
Finished my Inquisitor, all except for the actual fluff (personality, background, etc). I'll work on it tomorrow.
-Xisifer
The door bangs open with a gust of wind. A woman of middling height bustles inside. She is dressed, as she always seems to be, in simple traveling clothes, pants, belt and a blue blouse, all covered by a light cloak. After closing the door behind her, the woman pulls back the hood of her cloak, revealing raven hair and a set of piercing green eyes.
She had arrived in Heldren a month or two ago, a traveler stopping temporarily to rest and perhaps to find the odd employment or two. Those eyes sweep the room and she smiles and nods at Maylin, the smile slipping almost imperceptibly as she includes Colberg, though she gives him a friendly-enough nod as well. Making her way to the bar, (and one of the few free chairs - it seemed to be a busy evening!) she waves to a local here and there that she recognizes as she passes buy.
Slipping onto a stool next to the halfling, she orders a meal coupled with ale from the innkeep then turns to regard him. "I do not believe I've seen you before. Name's Morrigan. Are you passing through?"
at Ingvar's comment about his "trinkets", Nosh looks up at the man with a bright smile on his face. "Do you like my Collection? It's taken me two years to put it together. It's not easy to find the right pieces you know. I picked this piece up at this wonderful place called the glass works in this neat little town down south. Sad place, lots of tragedy lately, nice glass though." Nosh shows Ingvar an odd shaped piece of stained glass, at there does not appear to be anything special about it. Placing it carefully in his pouch, Nosh continues to chatter. "I'm Nosh, that's Alinza, her mother was a hag but she has pretty eyes. Have you tried the Three Devil Ale, it is really good, but there is no devil in it. Have you ever seen a devil?"
I'm getting confused. Is this still the recruitment thread, or did the game suddenly start?
Asmar's questions.
1. The adventure starts in the village of Heldren, a small village in Taldor just north of the Border Wood near Qadira. All characters should be residents of Heldren. Were you born there? Are you newly arrived?
"I was born there. My father is captain of the Heldren Militia. It is a small town, but every once in awhile we do need to protect ourselves, y'know!? Anyway that's what I tell myself. I joined up too. Gotta make the old man proud right? Truth be told, I would much rather be doing bigger, more exciting things! Like pursuing Xanthippe...That gal has a mean swing, but a kiss from her is worth the risk!"
2. If you're playing as a common race, how do you view other, rarer races? If you're playing as an uncommon race, how did you come to live among the common?
"Well my father is Ulfen, and my mother Chelaxian. As far as other races, I have no preference as long as they know how to get along with others. Beautiful women come in all shapes and sizes as well!"
3. What will your character contribute to the party in and out of battle?
Well, I trained to fight in the Taldan "Rondelero" stytle. I am good at bashing heads in when needed!"
4. What goals/aspirations does your character have? These don't always need to be lofty or noble.
"I want to see the world. I want to find someone to love and annoy with my quirks! More pressing is this cold...What is going on? I love my town, and I'd hate to think some sort of dark magic is threatening it. A bit superstitious, but what else could cause such a radical change?"
It is evening in Heldren. There is a chill in the air as you make your way toward The Silver Stoat, Heldren's only tavern. Whether you've lived in Heldren your entire life or are newly arrived, you know that this is a fixture of village life and that the tavern fills with patrons as they gather to share gossip, hear news and reward themselves with a mug of Three Devil Ale for their hard day's work. As you cross the threshold, you are greeted by a crackling fire, the smell of delicious steaks, and the sounds of hearty conversation.
Bryce walked into the village a flood of memories rushing through his head, there was the general store his father would come to trade at. He could remember the sweet taste of the rock candy they kept in a jar on the counter. Bryce wondered if they still sold that there, his dad would often buy him a stick if he was well behaved on the trip into town. Farther along he passed the barber shop and cringed remembering when he got nicked in the neck while squirming in the seat, he must have been about five summers old then. Passing the temple and then the hut the old wise woman lived in he pondered if she was still alive and if so would she know anything that could help him. The sounds of the tavern drew him and the smell of cooking food rumbled his belly and he entered the Silver Stoat removing his hat and kicking the dust from his boots. Inside a considerable number of people had already gathered, odd for such a small town. He found a seat at the bar and ordered up a tankard of ale and a plate of the cooks special. Looking around the place looked the same as it had the day he left Haldren twelves summers back, but he didn't recognize a soul.
It was the fourth night after her attack when the tavern's daughter had finally persuaded her rescuer to take his meal inside the tavern, as opposed to behind the tavern next to the garbage. The tavern was bright and loud tonight, unlike the quiet and solitude that he had inflicted upon himself these past months in drunken grief. But she had made him promise.
He slowly pushed open the front door to unsuccessfully avoid attention. In this primarily Human village, his black feathered head, beak, claws, and short, hunched form stood out as monstrous. If his clothes weren't tattered and stained, he might look like an exotic traveler, instead of the strange homeless beggar that he was. Therefore, conversation and general movement stopped in the tavern when the door closed with the birdman's eyes adjusting to the light. Gazes shifted quickly between the entrant and the tavern owner until the owner grudgingly nodded with a deep frown. Then, conversation and movement recovered.
The only smile in the tavern probably belonged to the plump, blushing daughter of the tavern's owner. She made a bee line to the birdman and settled him into an empty table in a quiet corner. "Thanks for coming. I'll bring your meal soon," she said as proud as can be.
You think he smiled in reply but you have not seen many beaks deliver emotion. He leaned a curious, cloth-covered club against the wall between his chair and the other wall making the corner in which he sat. He appears to keep his head down looking at his table.
1. Build a character using the crunch below.
Done.
Class: Inquisitor
Racial Traits: Darkvision, Intimidating, Orc Blood
Alternate Racial Traits:
City-Raised (grants +2 Know[local], proficient w/whips and longswords)
Acute Darkvision (grants Darkvision 90ft)
Favored Class: Inquisitor
Inquisition: Heresy
Age: 32, Height: 6'8, Weight: 220 lbs, Eyes: Red Hair: Black, Skin: Green
Initiative: +1
Senses: Perception +7, Darkvision 90ft
==DEFENSE==
AC: 15, touch 11, flat-footed 14 (+4 armor, +1 DEX)
HP: 9
Fort: +3, Ref: +1, Will: +5
Armor: Chain Shirt
Defensive Abilities:
==OFFENSE==
Speed: 30ft
Melee: Longsword +3 (1d8+3)
Melee: Heavy Mace +3 (1d8+3)
Melee: Dagger +3 (1d4+3)
Ranged: Light Crossbow +1 (1d8)
Special Attacks: None
==STATISTICS==
STR 16, DEX 12, CON 10, INT 14, WIS 16, CHA 8
BAB: +0, CMB: +3, CMD: 14
Feats: Skill Focus: Intimidate
Traits:
Northern Ancestry (+1 Fort, cold resistance 2) [Reign of Winter]
Honey-Tongued: +1 Diplomacy or Bluff when dealing with agents of the law (judges, guards, paladins, etc). [Faiths of Balance]
Skills: 6+2=8
Bluff +7
Intimidate +13
Know[arcana] +6 (+9 when ID'ing monsters)
Know[dungeoneering] +6 (+9 when ID'ing monsters)
Know[nature] +6 (+9 when ID'ing monsters)
Perception +7
Sense Motive +8
Stealth +5
Languages:
Common, Infernal, Orc Goblin
Currency:
30
[spoiler=INVENTORY]
Chain Shirt(100gp, 25lbs)
Longsword(15gp, 4lbs): 1d8, 19-20, S
Heavy Mace(12gp, 8lbs): 1d8, x2, B
Dagger(2gp, 1lb): 1d4, 19-20, P or S
Light Crossbow(35gp, 4lbs): 1d8, 19-20, 80ft, P
30 Bolts(3gp, 3lbs)
Inquisitor's Kit(30gp, 34lbs): Backpack, Bedroll, Belt Pouch, Candles, Cheap Holy Text, Flint and Steel, Iron Pot, Manacles, Mess Kit, Rope, Soap, Spell Component Pouch, 10 Torches, 5 Trail Rations, Waterskin, Wooden Holy Symbol
Grappling Hook(1gp, 4lbs)
Compass(10): +2 to avoid becoming lost or to navigate underground
Canteen(2gp, 1lb)
[/spoiler]
(0) Detect Magic
(0) Stabilize
(0) Light
(0) Brand
(1) Inflict Light Wounds
(1) Cure Light Wounds
Mort Kendall is a tall, imposing Half-Orc wearing a wide-brimmed black hat and thin spectacles. His skin is a dusky forest green, and his eyes are pure red. He wears a long black greatcoat that billows and flares dramatically in the wind when it isn't tied shut, and underneath it a fine sky-blue silk vest can be seen, with a shirt of fine chainmail beneath it. His belt holds a longsword, heavy mace and a dagger, and his heavily-laden backpack has a crossbow slung next to it.
Raised in Absalom, Mort's stern Human father made sure he grew up with as few ties to his Orcish heritage as possible. Severely beaten every time he raised his hand in hulking rage or brutish anger, Mort instead channeled his natural tendencies into ice-cold logic and icy, vicious politeness. This mollified his father, and soon Mort entered law school at a well-to-do, prestigious university with the help of a loan his father took out on his behalf. Soon Mort was clerking at a respectable law firm, Goldman & Lynch, whose proprieters also worshipped Asmodeus, the Archduke of Hell and the Prince of Law.
Bureaucracy suited Mort just fine, but it wasn't until a rather unusual case crossed his desk that Mort even considered venturing into the world beyond Absalom. Instructed by Merril Goldman himself, Mort was assigned to travel far to the north, to the land of Taldor, to serve a notice of levy and taxation to a person known as "The White Witch".
Ever dutiful, Mort packed up what meager gear he could put together and boarded a ship, not knowing what lay in store...
2. Share how often you can post/contribute to the game. I don't want to put unrealistic expectations on the group, but I'd like to shoot for one post per day on weekdays. If we go faster, I'm down with that.
Once per day on weekdays is fine. I'll post on my lunch break or after work.
3. Share how many other PBPs you're currently playing.
Zero.
4. Interact with the other applicants.
I'll do that shortly.
=====================
1. The adventure starts in the village of Heldren, a small village in Taldor just north of the Border Wood near Qadira. All characters should be residents of Heldren. Were you born there? Are you newly arrived?
Mort has only recently arrived in Heldren, having recently sailed there from Absalom in pursuit of a legal contract.
2. If you're playing as a common race, how do you view other, rarer races? If you're playing as an uncommon race, how did you come to live among the common?
As a Half-Orc, Mort knows he has no place to judge others for their shape or color, but due to the way he was raised, he has very little respect for those who cannot civilize themselves and adapt to their surroundings.
3. What will your character contribute to the party in and out of battle?
In battle, Mort will act as a front-line fighter with a variety of weapons. He will also be Intimidating his foes.
Out of battle, Mort is a cold and icily-polite fellow who is dedicated to his mission. He may find a great deal in common with those who are similarly lawful (or at least respecting of the law), but he has little patience for those who actively shun society.
4. What goals/aspirations does your character have? These don't always need to be lofty or noble.
Beyond fulfilling his immediate duty, Mort's goal is to return to Absalom and set up his own lawyering firm, earning his father's respect through massive amounts of legal income and profit.
Nathaniel turns when someone speaks to him, and he feels his breath caught in his throat. It is a woman, a human woman.
"I do not believe I've seen you before. Name's Morrigan. Are you passing through?"
The woman asks, her smile and manner a welcome surprise.
”It is a pleasure to meet you, Morrigan,” Nathaniel says as he quickly wipes his hands on his trousers, and then politely offers his right hand to the woman. “My name is Nath – I mean Artegal. My name is Artegal Boote, and I am new to this village, thank you for asking. Are you from around here? It hasn’t been easy to make acquaintances.I would be very grateful for someone to tell me things about this village, maybe the more I learn the better off I'll be. It isn’t my nature to be outgoing, so forgive me if I say something embarrassing. May I buy you something to drink?”
I am going to withdraw. Good gaming, everyone.
A somewhat tall, clean shaven blonde man enters the bar. His left eye is blackened. He wears a smile, and strolls up to the bar.
"Xanthippe gave me another shiner! I swear that woman will be the death of me... How about an ale to wash down the rejection?
Asmar says with laughter. He approaches the bar, and wedges himself near the halfling and the woman calling herself Morrigan.
"Artegal, you say? Pardon me for interrupting, but I must welcome you to our lovely village! i am Asmar, son of Bjorn, and member of the local militia..."
Asmar leans in and says...
"Not the most exciting job mind you, this town is pretty quiet. However I plan on doing something grand with my life! I have a bad feeling about this cold. It wouldn't be so bad if one had a lovely lady to keep him warm at night, but as it is now, I am young and ready to go out into the world! How about yourself? What is it that brings you here?!"
Asmar quickly turns his attention to the raven haired lady to his other side.
"Also, hello Morrigan! Forgive me for ignoring such a presence as you! I am Asmar Eriksson. Proud son of Bjorn and sworn protector of the town of Heldren! Now that I think about it, I do believe I have seen you before... How are you liking our quiet town? I trust you have enjoyed your stay thus far?"
Asmar looks up at the counter, and sees his ale.
"Ah, just in time! Cheers!"
|
Walking up the bar and reflecting upon the day he just spent tracking down the lost children, Bjornin turns towards the tavern on a whim. Normally, he avoids the crowds, but after saving the youngsters he feels more connected to the town then usual.
The boy was smart to bring his sister inside his cloak... he'll still lose a couple toes but they will both live because of that decision.
The cold wind gusts between the buildings and Bjornin looks up at the sky, squinting into the frigid air. It shouldn't be this cold, not consistently... the balance is off. There is something unnatural about the weather and it is getting dangerous. Those kids won't be the only ones in danger if it keeps this way.
As he steps through the door, shaking the snow off his furs and boots, Bjornin is shocked by the size of the crowd, but makes his way to stand beside the bar. "Hot mulled wine," he says once he gets the barkeep's attention. He hesitates then follows up in a louder voice to the barkeep and anyone else listening, "Storm coming, make sure your animals are fed and have extra blankets or are brought inside. This will be the kind of cold-snap that kills."
Bjornin then leans against the bar, taking in the menagerie of people. The wrongness brings them... the unbalance. Whether they know it or not, they are drawn here because of it. Some among them may be key to setting things right, tools for the balance to use to recover...
Dotting for interest......
Will try to have a concept up later this afternoon.
Hey, everyone - great job on the submissions so far. There are some great ideas here.
Sorry for the confusion on the recruitment and interaction. I thought it'd be helpful to get a sense of the flavor of characters and players before finalizing recruitment, but I can see how it could be overwhelming for newcomers or infrequent visitors to the thread. If you're unable to keep up with the conversation, don't be discouraged. I won't be "grading" your characters based on the level of your involvement in the conversation. If you only write one paragraph highlighting your entrance into the tavern, that is sufficient for the application.
Finally, in an effort to wrap up the recruitment and keep my sanity, I will be closing the recruitment at midnight tonight (CST, -6:00 GMT). Any characters submitted after this deadline (as my computer sees it), will not be accepted. So if you've expressed interest, get your character in!
There are enough great apps for three games, so I'm going to have a heck of a time sorting through and picking only one party. My goal is to have that done by mid-morning tomorrow - assuming we don't get a flood of new applicants today.
If you have any questions, please let me know!
Ingvar's eyes morph into tiny slits. Staggered at the sheer amount this gnome spoke, he was at a loss for words. He nods his head as he mentions the "...Collection...glass works...tragedy..." However, he catches up as he puts the glass away, finally able to collect his thoughts.
"Pleasure to meet you. Nosh. Alinza. I am called Ingvar." His speech is stilted, and a little awkward. Recognizing this, he makes himself more comfortable, turning his body towards Nosh and Alinza. "Forgive my discomfort, I am not use to places so... warm."
"Have you tried the Three Devil Ale, it is really good, but there is no devil in it. Have you ever seen a devil?" He thought for a second. "My ale is on it's way. I don't believe I've seen any devils. And I don't hope to. Have you?" Talking about their drinks reminded him of how hungry he was. He hoped that the server would be back with his food soon.
Okay, so there’s a bunch of very cool applications and my time schedule is limited until Friday for making a character – this is my fourth one this week, my success rate has been low (but dammit, I felt good about your Everflame game!). So anyway, I obviously don’t expect to get in with this application, but hey, I’ll give it a shot. This concept is quite solid in my head, both as a character and mechanically, but unfortunately I only have time to give you the bare bones until about 20 hours from now.
Anyway, enough excuses. Here’s Bazikian.
CG Gnome cleric of Desna 1
Str 11
Dex 10
Con 16
Int 10
Wis 15
Cha 16
Skills Sense Motive +6, UMD +8, Perform (wind) +4
Feats Improved Initiative
Traits Adaptive Magic, Varisian Wanderer (Perform [wind])
Domains Liberation, Luck
1. The adventure starts in the village of Heldren, a small village in Taldor just north of the Border Wood near Qadira. All characters should be residents of Heldren. Were you born there? Are you newly arrived?
Bazikian is a recent addition to Heldren, having wandered for the past three years in a lazy clockwise direction around the Inner Sea. Near the end of his time with Varisian itinerants, he received a Harrow reading hinting that he should circle the Inner Sea – at least, that’s how he interpreted it…
2. If you're playing as a common race, how do you view other, rarer races? If you're playing as an uncommon race, how did you come to live among the common?
Bazikian’s parents were wanderers themselves, and devotees of Desna as well. The family of three spent time in and out of Varisian camps and caravans throughout Bazikian’s childhood. His parents still wander the rolling lands of southwestern Varisia.
Bazikian has seen all sorts of folk during his wanderings, and he thinks that most people overthink things too much, especially elves and humans. And dwarves. And sometimes halflings.
He enjoys the company of any who can make him laugh, tell a good tale, or those who display kind-heartedness.
3. What will your character contribute to the party in and out of battle?
Bazikian is very much a support caster, concentrating on using his buffs and (super-cool) domain powers to assist the party members. He falls back on his crossbow and starknives in physical combat.
He can channel often, allowing him to revive fallen allies or heal the party out of combat.
Though wise, Bazikian possesses the typical gnomish strangeness (at least from a human point of view). This manifests as a kind of naivety, a seemingly simple way of looking at reality, but a deep and true one.
He also has a set of pan pipes. He’s not very good at them yet, but he’s getting better all the time.
4. What goals/aspirations does your character have? These don't always need to be lofty or noble.
Bazikian is on A Quest, given to him by an old Varisian hag Harrow reader a few years ago. He knows he’s on it, and he knows it’s’ Very Important, but he’s not exactly sure just yet exactly What It’s All About. He can feel it tug him on though, and the blue butterflies of Desna appear whenever he is undecided, leading him on towards His Destiny.
The short figure stumbled through the door with a gust of powdery snow, and turned to shove the door shut behind him. Once inside the warm, firelit tavern, the strange little man heaved a sigh of relief and walked lightly to the bar, scampering up a stool to stand upon it - his 3'3" frame no still taller than most of the bigger folk slouching on the timber bar.
His long and pointed face wore an absent-minded grin, his black eyes twinkling. His carrot-coloured hair sprung upwards and outwards at all angles from beneath the gaudy Varisian scarf he wore as a headband. His green jacket and light brown pants were spattered with mud stains from the road, as was his dark red cloak. Still, he stood patiently upon his stool, smiling, swaying slightly, waiting for the chance to order a nice warm mead.
Life was simple. Life was good.
Bazikian was on A Quest.
”It is a pleasure to meet you, Morrigan,” Nathaniel says as he quickly wipes his hands on his trousers, and then politely offers his right hand to the woman. “My name is Nath – I mean Artegal. My name is Artegal Boote, and I am new to this village, thank you for asking. Are you from around here? It hasn’t been easy to make acquaintances.I would be very grateful for someone to tell me things about this village, maybe the more I learn the better off I'll be. It isn’t my nature to be outgoing, so forgive me if I say something embarrassing. May I buy you something to drink?”
Asmar quickly turns his attention to the raven haired lady to his other side.
"Also, hello Morrigan! Forgive me for ignoring such a presence as you! I am Asmar Eriksson. Proud son of Bjorn and sworn protector of the town of Heldren! Now that I think about it, I do believe I have seen you before... How are you liking our quiet town? I trust you have enjoyed your stay thus far?"
Asmar looks up at the counter, and sees his ale.
"Ah, just in time! Cheers!"
Morrigan takes the proffered hand in her own and shakes it lightly.
"A pleasure to meet you, Artegal. Making acquaintances can often be a daunting task, I agree. Never mind friends, yes?" She offers the halfling a small smile and looks about to say more when the pair is joined by a talkative and exuberant Asmar.
"Good to meet you as well... Asmar did you say it was?" Yes, I believe I have seen you about on occassion also. I have enjoyed my stay thus far. It has been a restful respite from my journeys, thanks no doubt in part to you and your fellow guardsmen's vigilance," she says with a wink. "How long have you been living here? And you, Artegal, how long have you been in town? Are you passing through?"
She glances up as the door open yet again and the small figure of Bazikian enters. Goodness, but this will be a busy night it seems. The corners of her mouth lift into a grin as she scans the room, taking in the halfling, the gnome, the other gnome, the pair of dwarves... ... and quite the gathering of wee folk!she thinks to herself with some amusement.
A suggestion to keep the thread less jumbled-
If the tavern role-play could be spoilered, it would keep the GM relevant questions more visible.
Good idea, Ragnar.
The heavy oaken door to the Silver Stoat bangs open with a gust of frozen wind. A tall, imposing figure steps inside before closing the door with a heavy whud.
Looking around the dim tavern is a tall, imposing Half-Orc wearing a wide-brimmed black hat and thin spectacles. His skin is a dusky forest green, and his eyes are pure red. He wears a long black greatcoat that billows and flares dramatically in the leftover wisps of wind, revealing a fine sky-blue silk vest can be seen, with a shirt of fine chainmail beneath it. His belt holds a longsword, heavy mace and a dagger, and his heavily-laden backpack has a crossbow slung next to it.
The heavily-armed Half-Orc clomps a few times, shaking the snow off his shoulders and boots and revealing a dull crimson symbol on the back of his coat. He approaches the bartender. "Warmed mead, if you please," he says curtly, his voice smooth with a well-cultured accent. He pronounces everything with exact, precise enunciation as he glances around the room. "Your establishment appears to be quite lucrative this evening."
anything ive missed on my sorcerer gm?
I think you're good, Viluki. You may want to answer some of the other application questions, but it's not a big deal.
For the question of how he deals with odd or unusual races, he doesn't judge by race only by their strength of will. If anything gets in his way he knocks it out of his way.
After securing the door, he stamped the snow from his sturdy leather boots. He removed his gray-hued wide-brimmed hat and voluminous cloak and set them on wall pegs near the fireplace to dry. Seeing his usual bar stool taken by a visitor, he frowned to the waitress when they made eye contact. He indicated his usual mulled wine at an empty spot at a trestle table next to the blacksmith who he clapped on the back while sitting down with his left hand. With his right hand, he adjusted the cold iron Morningstar that swung from his belt to settle on the floor. ”How is that stash of spices holding for you?” He started a pleasant conversation with an old friend.
Votun Raveneye woke up four years ago walking on the trail toward the village of Heldren. His only companion was the raven Munin. After significant and aggressive interrogation, Munin has absolutely refused to answer any question regarding Votun’s past explaining that Votun himself made Munin promise to maintain his silence. It is still a sensitive topic between them.
When he arrived in Heldren, Votun discovered the village lacked an herbalist. The wise woman’s land and hut still abandoned three years after her death. He accepted her land and hut in exchange for providing villagers with herbs at cost. Visitors could be charged whatever he wanted. He has earned a reputation among the villagers as a kindly, eccentric old man who knows quite a bit about a great many things.
For some reason that he cannot explain well, Votun accepts all races on the basis of their behavior instead of their racial stereotype. If pressed, he rationalizes it with his amnesia.
In combat, Votun is a debuffing arcanist. Out of combat, he is a veritable fountain of knowledge.
Votun wants to remember his past. After 20th level, he will remember that he is dreaming in his odinsleep.
During the weekday, I usually can post frequently between 9am to 4pm and 8pm to 10pm. During the weekend, I usually can only post at the very beginning of the day and at the end of the day. All times Eastern time zone.
I play in four other PbP’s. Two are much slower paced than expected. One appears to be dying with an absent GM, which is why I want to add another.
After a while of drinking a very drunk Colberg gets up from his chair and stumbles his way over to the strange gnome with the trinkets. He slurs out a barely coherent sentence, swaying quite a bit, almsot as if he could fall over onto the gnome any second. "You look like you can have some fun. SING WITH ME!" He laughs very loud getting a bit of attention for it. Before the Gnome can really respond Colberg bursts out is song,
Gonna get up, an hunt
An find me some witches
Gonna get up, an hunt
Take em all down
They can run, they can hide
But I'm gonna find em
They won' know what hit em
Till their heads on the ground
He slurs through the words, but it is a lot more intelligible than he actual speaking voice... maybe it is just because he is louder now. As he is singing he makes his way about the tavern completely forgetting about the gnome and his companions at the table. He mumbles something and the repeats the same lines again, this time louder and less enunciated.
Gonna get up, an hunt
An find me some witches
Gonna get up, an hunt
Take em all down
They can run, they can hide
But I'm gonna find em
They won' know what hit em
Till their heads on the ground
Finally he makes his way over to the halfling at the bar talking to a few people. "Why you not singin wif me? You look like ya can have fun, aye." Colberg then collapses and nearly topples onto the poor halfling, he is knocked out cold.
Nosh hops down from his stool and quickly scrambles to fall in behind the dwarf. The first time around he repeats after the dwarf, soon catches on, adding his voice to the dwarfs song.
Gonna get up, an hunt
An find me some witches
Gonna get up, an hunt
Take em all down
They can run, they can hide
But I'm gonna find em
They won' know what hit em
Till their heads on the ground
Gonna get up, an hunt
An find me some witches
Gonna get up, an hunt
Take em all down
They can run, they can hide
But I'm gonna find em
They won' know what hit em
Till their heads on the ground
As Colberg tries to entice the Halfling, nosh pokes him in the shoulder "That was fun, know any other good songs? I once knew a ......hmmm all that singing and drinking must have tired him out. That was fun, too bad it's over"
With his latest interest seemingly asleep on the floor, Nosh climbs onto the nearest stool looking for his table. But before he locates it, his eyes fall on a bird like creature sitting alone in the corner
he doesn't look like eh ahs any friends, how sad. I know, I'll go cheer him up!
Nosh takes off, almost diving face first into the floor as he recklessly leaps off the stool. Once again his nimbleness pays off, allowing him to navigate the crowded common room. Once clear f the press he makes a beeline for the tengu's table. In usual Nosh fashion, he's already halfway into a chair before he's done asking if he can join.
"Hi there! Did you like that song? It was fun, too bad he fell asleep. Do you know any good songs? I'm Nosh, I've never seen a bird with legs and arms before, are you from around here?"
Hey there, I’m an absolute newbie to the forums… thought I’d give this AP a shot.
I’m no stranger to Pathfinder nor to play by post: I’ve been playing PF tabletop for a couple of years now, and I’m currently GMing a PF play-by-post on Dragonslair.it, an Italian (my country) RPG message board. I also role-played form several months with the crew at Freedom City play-by-post, a superhero RPG message boards.
Hope I didn’t screw up the submission - still figuring out how the Alternate Profiles work.
CHARACTER CONCEPT:
Backstory
Not every half-orc is born of violence.
Jorgo was the son of Tragor and Raza, two half-orcs working as shock troops in the mercenary company called Ramsay’s Roughnecks. His first years were spent in the mercenary camp, here and there, going where his parents’ commander got a contract.
Far from being traumatized, Jorgo had a tough but pretty happy childhood: his parents were very good at their job, which meant steady income and few serious injuries. They loved him and their comrades in arms started caring about the little runt running around camp as if he was their mascot.
During the battles, Jorgo usually stayed with the quartermaster and the healers, learning how to tend to the wounded, how to find useful herbs in the woods, and how to use his brains in addition to his brawn.
He was growing larger and stronger every day and everyone thought he would eventually become a Roughneck himself.
However, when his real training began, he found himself unable to conjure up the indomitable rage that made his parents so deadly in battle. He was strong enough and skilled with an axe, but without the blind fury he was no Roughneck.
But what he lacked in rage, he got in determination and intelligence. He parted from his parents and from the mercenary camp, assuring he would be back, worthy of fighting at their side. He used the skills in herbalism to get gigs as an apprentice to skilled healers and alchemists, learning bits and pieces of the craft.
Finally, a few months ago, he found in the woods of southern Taldor just the plant he was looking for. By refining its juice and adding a few chemicals, he was able to concoct a cocktails that awakened in him a passable imitation of his parents’ rage! Most exciting day in his life!
Jorgo took residence in Heldren, a small town just close enough to the Border Wood to guarantee him a steady supply of the herb for his experiments. He just needs to improve the recipe a bit, and then he will be ready to rejoin his parents!
Personality
Between the toothy grin and the thick brow, Jorgo's eyes shine of true intelligence. He knows he's no match, physically, for the best fighters in the world, and he very determined to overcome his flaws with the use of intelligence and chemicals. He is coming to terms with his need to be less straight-forward in resolving situations.
He is genuinely curious about his research, and the more he experiments, the more the lust for battle seems to be taking a back seat...
1. The adventure starts in the village of Heldren, a small village in Taldor just north of the Border Wood near Qadira. All characters should be residents of Heldren. Were you born there? Are you newly arrived?
See above
2. If you're playing as a common race, how do you view other, rarer races? If you're playing as an uncommon race, how did you come to live among the common?
He’s seen people of most races, and he knows there’s bad folks and good folks among any race. As a member of a common if somewhat discriminated race, he usually waits to see another’s actions before judging.
3. What will your character contribute to the party in and out of battle?
As much as he’d like to fling himself into battle like his parents, he’s usually a bit more methodical. He uses his alchemy compounds to improve his already well formed physique before grabbing his axe and smashing left and right. Out of combat, in addition to his craft, he is a capable wilderness man, a skilled polyglot and he can conjure up useful cocktails.
4. What goals/aspirations does your character have? These don't always need to be lofty or noble.
His primary goal is to improve his mutagen, so to become a true warrior (he learned from his parents that the blind fury is the best way of facing an enemy) He is a bit of a perfectionist though, so he likely will be working on it a bit more to truly compensate for his physical shortcomings. Ultimately he hopes to rejoin the Roughnecks and to be able to fight side by side with his parents and his childhood friends.
Sheet:
Male half-orc alchemist 1
N Medium humanoid (orc, human)
Initiative +4; Senses: Perception +5, darkvision 90 feet (alternate racial trait)
/* Defense */
AC 13, touch 10, flat-footed 13 (+3 armor)
HP 11 (1d8+3)
Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +1
/* Offense */
Speed: 30 feet
Melee greataxe +2 (1d12+2, x3)
Ranged bomb +1 (splash weapon, 1d6+3)
Alchemist formulas known (CL 1st)
1st (2/day) - comprehend languages, cure light wounds, disguise self, enlarge person, shield
/* Statistics */
Str 14, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 16, Wis 12, Car 13
BA +0; CMB +2; CMD 12
Feats: Brew Potion; Improved Initiative; Throw Anything
Skills: Craft [Alchemy] +8, Heal +5, Intimidate +8, Knowledge [arcana] +7, Knowledge [geography] +8, Knowledge [nature] +7, Perception +5, Survival +5
Languages: Common, Orc, Giant, Abyssal, Skald
Traits: restless wayfarer, bully
SQ: mutagen (+ Str, - Int), alchemy
Gear: explorer’s outfit, cold-weather outfit, studded leather, greataxe, dagger (2), alchemist’s kit, rope, alchemist formula book (free), 68 gp
Just a friendly reminder that there are roughly five hours remaining to get your character concept in.
It appears that rogues HATE the cold weather...This is the first recruitment thread I think I've ever been a part of that is completely absent of that class.
I conceptualised one, but couldn't help making the gnome cleric. Was going to be a Varisian Cha rogue with star blades, bladed scarf, all that.
But I've never played a gnome before, and once I got the idea I couldn't ditch it :)
It appears that rogues HATE the cold weather...This is the first recruitment thread I think I've ever been a part of that is completely absent of that class.
Not me. I'm playing two trapspotters, because of the lack of rogue applicants. Not enough love for the scoundrels...
I think it might be because of the traits, there is no trait really made for a rogue, except the restless wayfarer one.
Hmm maybe should have gone the Varisian rogue... Tell you what GM, if you decide the party really needs one and I miss out with Bazikian, I can have one whipped up in 6 hours ;-)
Ok adjusted to level 1. Background in profile, will respond to questions next, swamped at work.
Good luck to all, DM included. Glad I'm not the one having to make the decision. lol