Blood of Dragonscar-Level 15 (Inactive)

Game Master concerro

Character Creation Rules:
Level: 15

Money: 410,000 gp

Races: All core races, other races subject to GM approval, but most 0 HD races will be approved.

Classes: All CRB and APG, UC and UM by GM approval, 3rd party by GM approval

Feats: CRB and APG allowed, UC and UM by GM approval, 3rd party by GM approval

Abilities: 20 point buy

Traits: 2

Alignments: No evil

Xantrian Carver never intend to be an adventurer; he just wanted to be a chef.

Born in Oppara to poor parents, he subsisted on little more than beans, bread, and water. He caught only the merest glimpses of Oppara's renowned high society, but it created a thirst in him. If only he could be a part of that. If only the rich and noble would clamor for his attention rather than avert their eyes from the dirty child.

Forced by necessity to fend for himself in the alleys, Xantrian grew up fast, and he grew up hard. While he never sought a fight, he refused to back down. When he stood up to and fought Jacques, a much-larger street tough, he earned the respect of his peers. It didn't matter that Jacques beat him nearly to death; Xantrian would never give up.

At the age of 16, Xantrian had grown weary of street life. He joined a mercenary band, Morrow's Marauders, in a desperate attempt to better his life. The pay, though meager by mercenary standards, was beyond a fortune to him; he'd never held more than two silver pieces in his entire life.

Xantrian's life changed after two years with the Marauders when the mercenary group took a contract to serve as guards for a noble's party. Xantrian was assigned what was widely considered the worst position - guarding the kitchen. The others wanted a chance to leer at the beautiful women, while Xantrian had to stay in the back. It turned out to be the best thing that ever could have happened to the young man.

The chef catering the party was Hubert Galt, widely considered to be one of the best in all Taldor. Xantrian took his post seriously, at first, remaining vigilant and watchful, but the delicious smells that wafted from the stoves as Galt prepared delicacy after delicacy soon set his stomach to rumbling. One particularly loud rumble caught the attention of Galt, who laughed and waved the guard over. One taste of the dish (beef tartar, minced shallots, capers, mushrooms, and a quail egg yolk on top) changed his life forever.

Galt saw the passion awake in Xantrian's eyes, and made him an offer: work as his assistant for one year, no pay. If Xantrian showed promise, Galt would take him on as an apprentice. Xantrian didn't hesitate; he left the Morrow's Marauders that very night and never looked back.

In the year that followed, Xantrian encountered a different world. Galt traveled all over Taldor, cooking for only the richest people. Once, he even cooked a meal for Grand Prince Stavian III! It was a difficult year, however, for Galt was a demanding master with a short temper. Even the slightest mistake would unleash a torrent of vitriol. Yet Xantrian thrived under the difficult conditions, and when the year was up, Galt offered him the apprenticeship without a second thought.

It took six years to complete his apprenticeship, five years in which Xantrian saw more of Garund than he'd ever dreamed existed. Taldor, Andor, Isger, Qadira, even Absalom...Galt was in demand everywhere. And as Xantrian learned the secrets of a master chef, he developed his own style, one that fused techniques and flavors from every region they visited. And, to his secret delight, his own fame began to rise. Towards the end of his apprenticeship, the relationship between Galt and Xantrian worsened. The pupil's masterpieces were in ever higher demand, to the point of overshadowing the master, and it was with bitter words they parted ways.

Xantrian spent the next four years continuing his world travels, having finally accomplished his dream of having the rich and noble desperate for his services. Yet, he discovered something was missing. He was never satisfied serving the same dishes day in and day out. Not only were new combinations of flavor and texture required to keep his attention, but new ingredients were needed. Not the mundane spices imported from Avistan; no, he longed to use much more exotic fare. Aberrations, magical beasts, rare animals...serving up dishes incorporating such incredible delicacies would propel him to new heights.

Determined to go where no master chef had gone before, Xantrian left the world of high society and took up the bardiche he'd carried with Morrow's Marauders. Since then, he's joined several different adventuring groups, among them the Silver Blades and the Black Brawlers. Recently, he heard about dragon trouble in Dalaston. Of all the creatures he's ever wanted to butcher and cook, dragons have topped the list, and so he couldn't resist.

Xantrian is stubborn and ill-tempered; no doubt his temperament was influenced a great deal by Galt. He is a perfectionist in everything, but especially when it comes to cooking. He is an intimidating man, more by a level of simmering anger that lies just below the surface than his physique.

Xantrian's speech is typically refined, as he's taken great care to adopt the speech of the nobility. However, when he's excited or under great stress, his control slips and bits of street slang come out.

Xantrian is a straight Fighter with no archetype. His skill focus is on Intimidate, Profession: Cook, Perception, and, to a lesser degree, Survival. He primarily uses a Bardiche in combat.

From the moment of her birth Vera was never what you would consider a normal child. As both of her parents are plain, brown haired and brown eyed, it was with some surprise when her mother gave birth to a beautiful girl with platinum blonde hair. Some snickered behind her father's back that in fact she was not his, but one look at her face and people knew better. So if she wasn't truly human, what was she?

From the moment she could walk, Vera was singled out as different. Strange things always happened when she walked into a room and soon the superstitious people of her village began to fear the flame haired sweet tempered child with a wild imagination. Odd lights, flowers changing color anf fires starting or going out randomly around her marked Vera as a child of magic. However, this child of magic had a darker side to her and when she did truly lose her temper she was unrestrained fury, lashing out with nails, tooth or uncontrolled magic.

This culminated when she was 16 years old. She had long fought against the bullies of the town, completely unafraid of the difference in size or strength or how often they picked on her for being different. She took all this in stride and walked proudly down the streets every day, her shimmering curtain of pale golden hair growing halfway down her back. She was by now the most beautiful woman in the village and her magical powers had recently jumped up in power, becoming something of a problem for the already hot tempered teenager. A man, once one of the bullies she had fought against, had pressed his suite to become her husband.

She rejected him out of hand, considering him a brutish, ugly lout. This drove the man into a rage and he attempted to rape her. Vera fought with everything she had but still, this time her fury was not enough to stop him from ripping her dress off. It was right there that a fire had lit inside her belly, a fount of raw magical power begging to be unleashed. Pure fire had spilled from her hands, roasting the man down to his bones and setting the shed on fire. Horrified at what she had done, Vera gathered everything she owned and left that very night, never to return to that backwater town.

Looking to develop her magical powers in a more free setting, Vera had traveled to nearby Andora and arrived at Almas. Awed by the sheer bustle of the city and attracted to the fearce passion of the people, Vera had begun working at a local tavern. On top of her looks she also had a sweet and pure voice and soon was no longeer serving tables but attracting scores of eager men who would come to the Silverside Tavern for a chance to see the new singer Vera Goldensable.

While she didn't have the diversity of a trained bard, Vera still managed to awe many of the art loving Andorans by combining her magic into her performances. Soon she attracted the attention of a master bard who took her under his wing to teach her more about...well, everything. Vera showed no interest in music beyond what she could already do, but the bard fascinated her with stories about magic users who required no spellbooks, about how sorcerers were simply mortal beings with a touch of a magical creature in their blood. To help here develop her own powers Master Nory, as Vera called him, took her with him when his adventuring party set forth on their newly built ship the Singing Eagle.

While all the members of Nory's group were hardened veteran adventurers, they accepted Vera as a younger cousin and showed her the wonders of traveling far beyond home and safety. She quickly grasped the power in her blood and shaped it to her will, her gold dragon features becoming more and more pronounced until a set of brilliant golden wings erupted from her back when she fell off a cliff.

By this time Vera's hair had faded to pale silver, her features had become more feline and her skin was now covered in minute golden scales. She had a fraction of a true gold dragon's strength and nobility and she could lay about with claw and breath weapon as easily as magic.

For twenty years Vera adventured with the members of the Singing Eagle until they met with calamity after gathering one too many powerful enemies. In the grasp of a sudden and viscious storm, Vera was forced to flee as an enormous fiendish kraken enveloped the ship and ripped it to pieces, killing all on board. All that was left was her husband Nory's lute, found floating on a piece of hull when Vera scoped out the wreckage after the kraken vanished into the depths. She knew he would want her to take the lute and news of his death back to Dalaston, the small and rustic village of his birth.

Vera has a fierce personality and embodies the virtues of a true Andoran. Though not the birth place of her or her husband, the capital city Almas became their home port every time they wished for a break. She despises what she calls 'black magic'; that is magic used to twist peoples minds, enslave them body or soul or suck the very life out of them. If battle is joined, kill the enemy swiftly and be done with it. Do not let anyone suffer. She is still in mourning at the death of not only her husband Nory but the entire group of adventurers she came to call her family.

So level 5 sorcerer/10 dragon disciple. No archetypes, straight sorcerer straight prestige class.

Born the son of lower ranking noble, Marcus learned quick that more can be accomplished through one's on deeds than the strength of name alone. Rapidly ascending the ranks of his order the young priest-knight set about ridding his lord's highway's of bandits then his forest of monsters. The hawk like visor unrelenting courage struck fear into the hearts of orcs and ogres alike. Not content to rid one kingdom of beast the knight soon struck out on the road raising armies and casting down oppression. Mattering not if it were a simple farming community or the ramparts of Lastwall, Marcus tilted and enemies fell.

Upon hearing of the plight of far off Dalaston he again hefted his sword and shield, closed his visor, and raised his banner. Those who would stand before his charge would meet their end upon spell and mace.

Every bit the classic image of the daring knight, Marcus is more freebooting than most. Charasmatic and tough as nails. Willing to take up a cause for the sake of glory alone. I see him as more of an in between character. Some battle skill matched to divine aid.

I was thinking a Cavalier at first, but upon further thought decided that the Crusader or Evangelist Cleric Archetype from the UC would be a better choice. So Cleric it will be. IU am going to go for heavy armor as one his feats. I will use this profile as the end result, but as of right now it is not up to date. I will fill out the full build if selected.

Illiaster has been around for a while, the sages will tell you, keeping a low profile and mostly associated with an organization that calls itself the Mistletoe Consortium. A loosely organized merchant endeavor, the consortium exists as a source of potent services that lies somewhere between the idea of a faerie godmother and a genie: What you get will always be what you asked for, often what you (will) need, and sometimes what you wanted.

The truth is that the sages have it backwards: the consortium has been around for a while: ever since Illiaster founded it on the behalf of her patron when she first became a witch. Motivated by the interplay of her own childhood desires to have had an entity like it to turn to while growing up and her wish to turn a profit, she and like minded magic users sell their services to anyone who will meet their (sometimes) esoteric prices.

Illiaster is a capable and driven woman, who has built up a small business on her power and reputation. Smart and pragmatic, she lives by the same simple code that she runs her business on, which basically boils down to:
-Always fulfill your side of a bargain exactly.
-Always repay a debt.
-Never let emotion get in the way of business.
-No Refunds, but always be open to striking a new deal.
While she has a reputation for being somewhat mercenary in her attitudes and dealings, the truth is that she has no real need for money any longer, and instead continues to do what she does partly because she enjoys it, and largely because she is proud to call herself the best.

If approved, I'd like to build Illiaster as a half-elf Dimesnional Occultist. Beyond that her focus would be on (de)buffing and healing. I'd also like permission to have her grab the Leadership feat to represent the Mistletoe Consortium: I don't intend to use the followers or cohort for anything except supply runs and/or crafting with any real regularity, since they would be busy minding the business. If Vishkanya

Hrafen is a bald, corpulent Halfling with piercing gray eyes. He usually wears a cherry-red robe with purple trimming, festooned with Thassilonian runes picked-out in gold and silver thread. Although rather stocky, even for a Halfing, he is still quite light on his feet, and moves with a grace that is belied by his size. His most distinguishing feature, besides his corpulence, are the myriad runic tattoes which cover both of his arms.

Normally haughty and quick to anger, he can, however, become tenaciously single-minded when a specific goal presents itself.

A respected Evoker in the human city of Oppara, Hrafen was born, and grew-up, in that most decadent of cities. From an early age, it was clear that he had a prodigious talent for magic, which was matched only by his volcanic temper; over the years, he left acid burns on more than one wall, and singed a fair few eyebrows...

It was eventually decided that the best way to deal with his rather... unique... personality was to induct him into the ranks of the empire's battle-magi, in the hope that this would serve to act as a sufficient outlet for his anger and aggression. At the same time, he was given a mentor; a young human wizard named Skerrin, who had recently returned from Korvosa.

Initially, Hrafen railed against his enforced 'mentor', but gradually, he came to appreciate the budding-sage's quiet ways, and even found his bookish-naivete endearing. Over the years, the two became fast friends; Hrafen would entertain Skerrin with tales of the missions that he had been on, mentioning the cultures and creatures that he encountered, whilst Skerrin would go off on tangents about esoteric aspects of history, or monster life-cycles. As time passed, the friendship even did what no other force on Golarion had been able to accomplish; Hrafen's temper cooled somewhat, and although still quite hot-headed and impetuous, he was less likely to fall into a blind rage.

Skerrin helped Hrafen to channel his energy into other pursuits, teaching him of the rune-magic of forgotten Thassilon, and encouraging to take-up a hobby; Hrafen eventually fell-in with the city's brewers, becoming something of a connoisseur and master brewer himself in his spare time.

Indeed, his passion for a fine brew is what brings him to Dalaston; he has heard rumours of a magnificent stout produced by the Irini brewery, and wants, at the very least, to sample it, if not learn of its secrets...

DESCRIPTION
Berthold has distinct Taldan features, with deep green eyes, light tan skin, dark hair and a strong jaw. He prefers to shave his head, but maintains a short beard. He is of average height, but bears wide shoulders and strong arms. His posture carries a sense of purpose and an ease with bodily movements.

He talks little in general, but lets his broad and forgiving smile set people at ease. When he does speak, he tries to bring consensus to all present, ever including in his comments.

Overall, the man has a certain gravity to him that conveys confidence. A birthmark on his shoulder tells of an ominous fate, swayed by the elusive will of the gods.

He wears ample clothes of dark blue, often worn open and showing in part his athletic body. He carries a dark blue cloak he uses to hide his features.

He bears no visible weapon or armor and gives the impression of being in some undefined priesthood, for he seems a little shy and quiet, yet pleasant and listening, though a careful look at him will let show a fire and a passion in his deep green eyes that can only be fueled by some higher purpose.

PERSONALITY
Bertholdt is an idealist, believing in the Andoran model and ideals. He finds solace in rigorous training and searches for the sacred in his meditation as well as in the world as he experiences it. He is patient and humble and abhors shows of opulence and power.

BACKGROUND
Born to a couple of loving Andoran parents, Bertholdt grew up without a worry. His father Donaldt was a priest of Erastil, while his mother worshipped Milani. He had great tutors and learned a lot from them, but he also had quite a troublesome fiber. He was careful though and rarely got caught. In his teens, he caught the attention of recruiters and joined the Eagle Knights. He has worked for many years in Andoran and abroad, secretly advancing the Andoran ideals in Cheliax and Taldor.

As a secret operative, he learned to fight without weapons. Along the way, he also discovered that something deeper drove him in his pursuit: faith. To him, the Aldoran ideals found an echo, not only in the religious teachings of his parents, but in his martial practice as well. The principles of freedom became faith and his fighting style became more fluid.

Currently, Bertholdt works in Taldor. He has approached Princess Eutropia, next in line to the throne and eager to restore her country’s glory. He’s tasked with subtly influencing the Princess as she prepares to step on the throne.

As the lion is the king of the beasts, so Aerefan was meant to lead. His pedigree is well-established as he can trace a direct line of ancestry to the leader of the druidic circle who signed the Treaty of the Wildwood. As a child, he swam the rivers and climbed the trees of the Verdruan Forest making its vast wilderness his home. His father and mother raised him well. His father taught him practical skills: hunting and gathering, crafting necessities, recognizing the calls of each animal. His mother taught him the secret language of their order, to heal man and beast, and to wield magic in the aid of his people.

As a young man he was sent away from his tribe, as per their custom. His father told him not to return until his words would sway men's hearts and minds, and his mother told him not to return until he found his totem spirit. Together his parents purchased an expensive passage across the deserts of Katapesh and into the Mwangi expanse.

He found his totem animal first. A young male lion nearly crippled by a rhinoceros came upon his caravan at night, hunting the easy prey of unwary human travelers. The big cat took town a sleepy sentry before Aerefan could drive it off with his sling. The lion attacked again and again, injuring, but not killing those who went into the shadowy desert night. Each night Aerefan drove off the beast. After three days of attacks, Aefan went after the creature and tracked it for days. When he found it, it was emaciated and dehydrated, curled up in the shade of a rocky outcropping. While the animal lay dying Arefan spoke the words of power his mother had taught him and proclaimed his bond with the creature. The beast acknowledged the bond and was slowly nursed back to health.

Earning the trust of his fellow man and leading them took far longer. He did not speak the language of the Mwangi, and the tongue came to him only slowly. He was recognized as a fellow druid by a local tribe, but their trust was hard to earn given his foreign words and rites. For years he apprenticed himself to a local druid who oversaw ancient ruins. Together the two would venture into the decrepit vaults and clear it of its eldritch horrors. Aerefan grew in power, the older man grew more and more ill as weakness entered his bones and eyes, taking his vigor and sight. Thus the older druid granted Aerefan the authority to perform rites in his name. For two years Aerfan continued this work, acting as a local priest until a replacement could be found. Aerefan brought the old druid back to his forest home, partially as proof that he had met his father's demand, but also because the old man's sickness was aggravated by the wet climate and biting insects.

Aerefan and the old druid traveled back to his boyhood home. This time the trip was far faster as magic aided their travels. His parents accepted him back into the community and the remainder of the circle invited him into formal membership. Since then his status as a leader has been recognized both by the druidic circle, but also by the local authorities. Many of them have noted that his companion lion is uncannily similar looking to the white lion on the Taldan crest. Aerefan is quick to explain that the lion's coloration is typical of desert lions, but many of the local town leaders believe the animal is a powerful symbol.

Aerefan is attending the wedding as his parents are acquainted with the bride's father and sent him to make an appearance.

Aerefan is was well brought up and has experienced much of the wide world. For both reasons, he had good manners and a gracious nature. He often answers questions with a bit of experience of a homespun example.

More than any other trait, others note his deep loyalty and honor. Aerfan's parents raised him to be a leader of men and Aerefan takes that seriously. He expects others to treat him with respect and to value his wisdom. Those who fall under his protection: the weak, allies, and friends know that his patients is nearly endless, but that his righteous anger is fierce.

Aerefan is a human Lion Shaman Druid. His skills will probably be: diplomacy, survival, perception, knowledge nature, and spellcraft.

Appearance: This young man has long black hair with a white streak on his left temple and a beard that also has the white streak in it. He has pale blue eyes. And walks with a limp due to a wound he took when he tried his hand at standing against bandits. Kaz wears mostly grays, blacks and whites preferring suits rather than robes. The only bit of color he wears is a Purple and Green Silk scarf. Around his neck he wears a symbol of Nethys. The left side of his face is scarred from the same bandits.

Bio: 3rd Born to a minor noble house Kaz was not going to be destined for much if any of the family lands. He had to find a way to make it on his own. He strove to be the best in everything just to get his father's attention. While this was good for him it was presenting a problem with his older brothers for he was making them look bad. His brothers were devising a plan that would take care of not only his father but their overachiever brother as well.

One afternoon they suggested they all go hunting. This was an area that Kaz was never good at but it was his father's favorite, so he reluctantly agreed. While Kaz and his family were in the woods tracking a beast, they were onset by bandits. His 2 brothers began to hand over all of what they had, but his father stood up to them engaging them, trying to protect his youngest son. That was for not. The Bandits surround them both slicing and lunging at the pair; though his father fought bravely he was overpowered by sheer numbers. Kaz noted that the Bandits were moving a quite bit faster that his father and himself. One of the Bandits eyes glowed yellow and it charged his father. His father screamed he then watched as his father dropped to the ground.

Kaz knelt down to pick up his father's sword and tried to defend himself calling for help from his brothers, but they were nowhere to be scene. Then one of the Bandits sliced at Kaz cutting his left leg dropping him, than another stabbed him in the chest. The one that took down his father started coming towards Kaz, as it did he changed shape from a man to a wolf beast. It sniffed the air it howled what sounded like a warning and took off into the woods. The Bandits rushed to take all they could. Luckily they did not have the time to take the sword from Kaz's hand. The blood began to pool around him he knew death was near. When he heard voices, they were coming closer, he could not make out what they saying then all went blank.

Kaz woke up in a simple straw bed, trying to move but couldn't move he heard a gentle voice. "Don't move child you are in bad shape, I have wrapped your wounds but healing will take time." A hand touched Kaz's forehead he went back to sleep. He dreamt of power and destruction of those that have wronged him. He saw a face one that was half fair and the other charred the voice spoke "The Power is within, my disciple can show you how to tap it, and with that Knowledge you can heal yourself and can destroy those who did this." When Kaz woke he saw a woman sitting at a table half the woman's hair was white the other red. When she turned to him he noticed the left side of her face was burnt and the other was beautiful.

"Good you are awake; you are to be my apprentice so I have been told." She walks to a closet and brings out a black and white robe. "Put this on, it will cover you until we get you something a bit more fitting." He takes the robe and puts it over his head before he could be warned he tries to stand and falls. He looks down at his leg it is wrapped in bandages; she looks over at him "You will have to rebuild the strength in that one, my power is not in the Divine so I can't heal you wounds. But I can show you the Path you were told about if you choose." With a bit of struggling Kaz get back on the bed "I'll do it" thus started his slow recovery and his path to the Power promised.

During this time of training a companion of his mentor kept coming to their home asking him questions about the attack on the night his father died. This friend kept checking Kaz's wounds for infection. The gentleman called himself a Professor and he is studying the monster attacks in the area. While he was checking in on Kaz they began to talk of the problem of the monsters in this country and how they need to be stopped. Kaz who was trying to stay focused on revenge found he could not, the talk with this Professor over the month of time he came to check on Kaz made him see that his power could be used to help. One day he would get revenge on his brothers, but today was not that day. He needed to make himself better first.

When his initial training had been completed Kaz said goodbye to his mentor and the Professor. Miranda walked Kaz out to the place they buried his father. She looked at him "You are ready to start your real training learn all you can and share your knowledge so other don't make the same mistakes." Kaz nodded. Kaz knelt and said a prayer to his father. Kaz got up with the help of his mentor his leg still reminded him of that night and knew it would never heal. He said his final goodbye and started to walk away. She stopped him "That sword of your father's is special and when you ready you will unlock the power within." With those final words she headed back to the cabin and the professor and Kaz began his Journey.

Kaz knew he was done in the place he once called home. He left travelling north looking for a place he make a difference.

Many years later Kazimir finds himself in Dalaston hoping for a rest, a chance to calm down from the adventures maybe settle. It seems fate has other plans for him when the dragon and the undead move in.

Kazimir started life as a fighter and then found his way into Magus(Bladebound) when during his travels he learned the art of the Duelist.

You are still welcome to try and get in. I think that first combat was too long for the other one. I was getting tired of it myself.

Cool. I appreciate it. I've really been wanting to try out a higher level game. I have some interesting characters I want to try out at this level. I'll get to working something up over the next day or two.

Ajerviskanis is a cleric/monk of Irori, spent too many years among the libraries of Katheer as a child of a professor of ancient histories. He joined the church of Irori to plunder their knowledge, but found the serenity of the Temple-Monastery to be comforting and conducive to research, meditation and self-enrichment. He grew protective of the books and distant from others.

He spent many years under a self-imposed vow of silence after he was proven wrong during a prolonged debate on the intricacies of Azlanti culture , vowing not to speak unless he attained true certainty on all topics. When an acolyte accidentally spilled candle-wax in the pages of an ancient book, Ajerviskanis lost his cool, broke his vow, and decided he should temper knowledge with experience...

Which is to say he was thrown out of the Temple-Monastery for shouting so loudly at the acolyte that the blood vessels in his eyes burst and then beating him in to unconsciousness with a book.

Born of a commoner mother and a father of the noble house of Katheer, Khair has always had a life in two worlds. On the one hand, his mother a devout follower of Sarenrae took his manifestation of an Ignan bloodline as a sign from the goddess; while his father saw it as a political advantage.

These disjointed world view only emphasized Khair's quick temper and reactions. Being trained as a dervish allowed him freedom that was not allowed to most citizens of Qadira, and he enjoyed many excesses and paid lip tribute to the goddess. He often used his performative blade dances at noble parties for his father to gain prestige, and was rewarded with wealth and women. This all changed ten years ago when he went as a guard to a religious pilgrimage to Taldor for the taste of adventure.

He flaunted the warning by the priests in Katheer of the open hatred of Sarenrae by Stavian III, but upon arriving in Zimar he soon learned that the warning was not made as a jest.

One evening, while his companions were giving a hidden sermon in a follower's house, the brash ifrit decided to go for a stroll in the militaristic city with his dervish attire and flaming hair openly displayed.

He was assaulted by a group of noble adventurers who were strong believers in not only Stavian's hate of Sarenrae, but also of Taldoran superiority over the rest of the world.

He was found days later with his hair cut, bloody, his garbs torn, his horns shattered to small jagged stubs protruding from his forehead, with a gory bloody scimitar in hand.

Since that day he has given up the lavish lifestyle that was provided by his father and has acted as a more devout follower of Saranrae in the lands of Taldor, often giving dervish performances and lectures on the views of the goddess. Hidden in the bigger cities but more openly in the smaller cities and hamlets.

He has established a number of safehouses in the bigger cities of Taldor for followers of Sarenrae; hoping that one day his actions will help in the open worship of the goddess.

Outside of combat and perfomances, tends to think through his actions and words. He believes that everyone is able of redemption no matter how gruesome your actions (with the exception of the followers of Rovagug). He now sees his ignan ancestry as his mother does, as a gift from the goddess that must be used to protect and to help.

But while performing in and out of combat, his true energetic nature comes out. Once in his spinning trance he seems to have boundless energy and dismisses any danger that he might face as a challenge from the goddess to prove his faith.

Khair is a 15th level Ifrit Dervish Dancer. His arcane skills are focused on a combination of performative, healing and fire magic.

Male Gnome Dragon Disciple 5 Sorcerer 10
CN Small Humanoid (Gnome)
Init +1; Senses Blindsense (30 feet), Low-Light Vision; Perception +22
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DEFENSE
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AC 18, touch 12, flat-footed 17 (+1 Dex, +1 size, +6 natural)
hp 93 (5d12+10d6+30)
Fort +7, Ref +6, Will +12
Resist Dragon Resistances
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OFFENSE
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Spd 20 ft., Flight (60 feet, Average)
Melee Unarmed Strike +9/+4 (1d2/20/x2)
Special Attacks Breath Weapon (2/day) (DC 20), Dragon Bite, Electricity Claws & Bite (8 rounds/day)
Spell-Like Abilities Dancing Lights (1/day), Ghost Sound (1/day), Prestidigitation (1/day), Speak with Animals (1/day)
Sorcerer Spells Known (CL 13, +9 melee touch, +10 ranged touch):
6 (4/day) Form of the Dragon I (DC 21), Chain Lightning (DC 21)
5 (7/day) Spell Resistance (DC 20), Lightning Arc (DC 20)
4 (7/day) Fear (DC 19), Ball Lightning (DC 19), Detonate (DC 19), Dragon's Breath (DC 19), Shocking Image
3 (7/day) Elemental Aura (DC 18), Protection from Energy (DC 18), Lightning Bolt (DC 18), Fly (DC 18), Draconic Reservoir (DC 18)
2 (7/day) Resist Energy (DC 17), Resist Energy (DC 17), Elemental Touch (DC 17)
1 (8/day) Shocking Grasp, Mage Armor (DC 16), Shock Shield (DC 16)
0 (at will) Prestidigitation (DC 15), Jolt
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STATISTICS
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Str 10, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 14, Wis 15, Cha 20
Base Atk +8; CMB +7; CMD 18
Feats Eschew Materials, Quicken Spell, Skill Focus: Knowledge (Arcana), Toughness +15
Skills Diplomacy +16, Fly +10, Knowledge (Arcana) +28, Perception +22, Spellcraft +20, Stealth +5, Use Magic Device +18
Languages Common, Draconic, Giant, Gnome, Sylvan
SQ Draconic: Bronze Dragon (Electricity), Eternal Hope (1/day), Gnome Magic, Illusion Resistance, Wings (Su)

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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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Blindsense (30 feet) (Ex) Sense things and creatures without seeing them.
Breath Weapon (2/day) (DC 20) (Su) 2/day, Breath Weapon deals 15d6 Electricity damage, DC 20.
Dancing Lights (1/day) (Sp) With Charisma 11+, cast Dancing Lights once per day.
Draconic: Bronze Dragon (Electricity) +1 damage per die for [Electricity] spells.
Dragon Bite (Ex) Bite atacks deal 1d6 damage
Dragon Resistances (Ex) You gain Electricity resistance 10 and +4 natural armor.
Electricity Claws & Bite (8 rounds/day) (Su) 2 Magic Claw attacks deal 1d6 damage + 1d6 Electricity Bite attack deals 1d6 damage.
Eschew Materials Cast spells without materials, if component cost is 1 gp or less.
Eternal Hope (1/day) +2 save vs. fear and despair. 1/day, reroll a 1 rolled on 1d20.
Flight (60 feet, Average) You can fly!
Ghost Sound (1/day) (Sp) With Charisma 11+, cast Ghost Sound once per day.
Gnome Magic +1 to the save DC of all illusions spells you cast.
Illusion Resistance +2 racial bonus to saves against illusions.
Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in low light, distinguishing color and detail.
Prestidigitation (1/day) (Sp) With Charisma 11+, cast Prestidigitation once per day.
Quicken Spell Cast another spell in the same round you cast this one. +4 Levels.
Speak with Animals (1/day) (Sp) Speak with Animals 1/day.
Wings (Su) Fly 60' (average)