DM Salsa Presents: Wrath of the Righteous (Inactive)

Game Master AdamWarnock

Male Teifling (Pitborn) Bloodrager 1
CG Medium Outsider (Native)
Init +0; Senses: Perception +5; Darkvision 60ft
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DEFENSE
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AC 15, touch 9, flat-footed 16 (+6 armor, -1 Dex) (+2 ac when charging during surprise or first round of combat, Reckless luck)
HP 15
Fort +7, Ref -1, Will -1
Resistances: Cold 5, Fire 5, Electricity 5
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OFFENSE
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Speed 40 ft. (30ft w/ armor)
Melee:
Claws: +7 1d6+6

Ranged:

Misc:
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STATISTICS
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Str 22, Dex 9, Con 20, Int 10, Wis 8, Cha 14
Base Atk +1; CMB +7; CMD 16
Traits: Arcane Temper, Reckless Luck
Feats: Power Attack
Skills (5 points; 4 Bloodrager, +1 Favored)
ACP -4
(1) Linguistics: +1 (learned Draconic)
(1) *Acrobatics: +5
(1) Perception: +5
(1) Knowledge Arcana: +4
(1) Spellcraft: +4

*Armor Check Penalty applies to these skills

Languages: Common, Abyssal, Draconic*

All my life they've I've been watched with suspicion...

They had mother in the other room for hours as I played. I thought nothing of it until I heard a scream.

Mother was not a weak person. That I remember with such clarity. She had crusaded against the demons for years and years before Father settled down with her and they both retired from the frontlines.

"A fiend-blooded child, Meredith! How did one such as you bear such?" The Witch hunter spat though his mask. "Have you lain with them? Made some sort of pact? Tell us!"

Meredith stared him down, He was a fool and coward hiding behind a mask and his righteousness. The humble crusader was once a beautiful woman but a life on the frontlines had aged and scarred her tanned face and dulled her blonde hair. "You know very well what living and bearing children this close to the wound can do. My son is no monster. My son is as innocent as any other. Don't mock me with ignorance. This inquisition is uncalled for. What do you really want?"

The masked man slapped a gauntleted fist across her face, drawing a grunt and a spit of blood. "What I want? Oh dear Meredith," he said circling the chair she was tied to. "It isn't anything that I want. But our lord... oh yes our lord wants much from you. Our lord wants you for our crusade. HE wants your flesh bent to his will. But if not yours, we can certainly settle for your child. He has such potential..."

Meredith strained against the ropes in rage at the thought and stared the man down. "No! Never! Don't you touch him you filth! Who are you really!?"

The man laughed, "Nothing but humble templars Meredith. Sworn to our lord," he leaned in close to the straining crusader and whispered in her ear. "Baphomet."

Meredith's eyes widened in horror and tried to scream but the templars were done toying with the woman. her hair was yanked back and her throat slit . Her scream came in gurgling agony and died at her lips.

I never saw what happened but I saw the witch hunter come out from the room covered in blood. I was but 6 years old then. I had no clue what had happened. All I knew was that I couldn't hear my mother anymore and I tried to force my way in but was quickly taken by the 2 men the witch hunter brought. They knocked me unconscious and took me away in a bag.

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Years they kept me. In a dirty cell. under some gods-forsaken warehouse. Until the 'signs' were right they said...
20 years later

Day after day the same routine. I had lost track of the time. No windows will do that to you. I had found few ways to pass the time. I trained my body so as not to become atrophied and it gave me something to focus on in the endless days of imprisonment. I also tried to play little games with the guards. Even if they hadn't responded for the last few years.

They fed me gruel to keep me alive. I had figured out by now that they wouldn’t kill me. No matter what I did. So, hey, might as well have fun with it right? It was like any other night in the cage.

“Hey Guard Rimshot what’s new?” I had to keep switching up the names. I had no idea if they were the same or not with the masks but I liked to think they were different everytime. Also I wasn’t the most creative with the names. “Bring any polish this time? I’m out.”

He didn’t respond as normal but the doors opened and a woman flanked by 2 bruisers entered the room each wielding a pole-arm. She was dressed in dark robes that fit tight and flowed behind her. She didn’t wear a mask like the others but she spoke with command. “Oh glorious is this day finally arrived. Tonight lord Baphomet has gifted us with a Blood moon rising in alignment with the Kite. It is a sign of the fall of this cursed city and the rise of Lord Baphomet! Bring the sacrifice that we may finally achieve our goal and raise that which can destroy this city!”

She pointed at the cage as I stood slack jawed and stammered, “Wait! What?! Seriou-“ my stammering was cut short by the bruisers hitting me with the butts of their pole-arms until I fell unconscious.

I next awoke to a droning chant. When I opened my eyes I was surrounded by robed figures chanting in mindless step with each other. I was bound by the hands and being held on my knees by the bruisers with man-catchers around my neck. I was in the center of a pentagram surrounded by 2 other glyphed circles. Getting a look at myself, I was clothed in nothing but a loincloth and covered by abyssal runes that seemed to me as nothing but gibberish. The witch was there chanting with the others.

I could feel the power in the room. It was like a pressure pressing on me from all sides. It was smothering and I couldn’t move after a minute. The runed circles and pentagram began to glow in a rhythmic pulse of red, purple and blue. The chanting rose to a crescendo and I felt like I was going to burst as the witch approached. She drew a long wickedly curved blade as she did and pressed the point over my heart. She began another incantation and the point started to burn as it pressed into my flesh and drew blood. I wanted to scream but I couldn’t the pressure was too great.

I began to bleed on the blade and it dripped onto the floor. When it touched the runed circle something strange happened. The rhythmic lights exploded in brilliant silver. As they did, I felt all the weight lift off me. I felt all the pain and the years of prison slide off of me and more importantly, I was angry. I remember flashes of what happened after that. The ropes burst. I broke the man-catcher poles. I grabbed the witch who was still in shock and I began ripping and tearing only to realize I had grown gleaming silver claws. The bruisers bashed me with the poles but they felt like fleas biting. I turned on them next. Blood flew everywhere and I broke into the ranks of the cultists. They started to flee and I chased. Out into the streets, mauling like a beast. After a few minutes I grew tired and came to my senses. I stumbled out into a main street and into the view of some guards before I fell over and passed out.

I came back to my sense in a white room on a bed. I hadn’t had a bed in so long I was amazed to feel it beneath me. I thought I was dead. That is… until I looked over and saw the 2 guards at the door. I almost groaned until my eyes locked on the symbols on their shields. Symbols of Iomedae just as Mother had on hers. I was in a safe place. I leaned up and managed to look at myself, I only then registered the change. My body was now pale white and gleamed like silver, I had small growths of scales in places too. My claws were gone but the remaining nails were sharper and stronger than the old one. I only then also noticed my tail. It was long and scaledlike some lizard’s.

Then one guard spoke, “The only reason you are not dead, fiend-blood, is because we feel no evil in you. Stumbling bloody and demon runed into the streets is a dangerous thing and…” He was cut short as a woman entered the room and glared at him. She looked elven and was beautiful with pale skin and eyes and hair of silver.
Then she regarded me and smiled. I had no idea how to take it. I was stunned. Then she spoke, “Hello, my name is Terendelev. Can you tell me yours?”

I stammered again, Mother had told stories of the crusades and of the Ancient silver Dragon that protected Kenabres. Terendelev. I was looking at a legend and she was smiling at me. “I-i…” I managed to gulp hard. “m-My name is Karas, ma’am, Karas Argentus.”

She nodded again, “Excellent,” she looked back to the guards “Thank you gentlemen for calling me. I will take him with me.” The guards raised hands to protest but was cut off. “He will be in my care and no harm will come to anyone from him. Understood?” The guards cowed and nodded.

I was given clothes and followed her through the city to a house in Old Kenabres and into a lavish parlor. She sat in a cushioned chair and beckoned me to sit on a nearby couch before asking in a kind voice. “Tell me, who was your mother Karas?”

I sat there for a long time thinking. Remebering. It was hard on me. So long I was captive. “Her name was Meredith Ma’am.”

Again she nodded, “Tell me what happened.” I exploded into words retelling her the story of my captivity and the ritual they tried and my changes.

She listened intently the whole time and when I was done she nodded again. “I see. I think I know what happened to you. The ritual was meant to amplify and bring forth your fiendish blood but instead it had an unintended effect. It awoke something in you. The blood of a dragon. Specifically, My lineage. I have kept close track of my blood for a long time. I was saddened the day they found Meredith murdered but I had so much to do on the lines. I am glad to have found you Karas. For you see, Meredith was family. Mind you this is an old line but she is my granddaughter many times removed. Which makes you, my dear boy, My grandson. ” She said with a bright and wide smile.

I fainted. I can’t lie. I fainted.

I awoke in a bedroom and looked over to the nightstand to see a note reading:

Karas,

I am so glad to have found you. Please stay here for the night. You are under my care and I have so much to teach you!

T

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I stayed with her that day. So glad to feel at home again. I learned that my father had been murdered by the cultists as well that night. Terendelev was the closest thing I have to family left. I couldn't let her down. I wont let her down. She taught me to control my rage. Focus it and point it at the enemies of the good and right. She taught me to fight. She taught me about the arcane, though I didn't seem to really have a talent for it. One day though, maybe.

I will do everything I can to make her proud. To do otherwise would be to fail her. I cannot do that. Ever.

Champion path with possible dual path to archmage. Character will go Bloodrager until he qualifies for Dragon Disciple and then follow that out. Assuming the wording for dragon disciple for sorcerers applies to bloodragers.

Karas barged into the shop and slammed his hands on the counter. "I need a horse and I need it now. How much!?"

The shopkeep looked shocked but quickly composed himself and gave him a smirk. "300 pieces of gold."

Karas blinked, "What? That's outrageous! No horse is worth that!"

The keep kept his smirk, "Demand suddenly skyrocketed buddy. Take it or leave it."

He was in a bind. He was losing ground on the killers fast and this wasn't helping. It wasn't surprising with his blood but what could he do? His temper flared.

"Look," he said, "I am in need of this to catch up to a group of people responsible for a lot of deaths and if I don't have a horse they will escape me." He slammed a fist down hard on the table.
Strength check to break table: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

"Now, if you don't charge me a proper price for the damn nag, I will take it!" he said in a grim tone.
Intimidate: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12

He knew he shouldn't be threatening like this and she would scold him for it later but he needed it. Even if he did have to steal it he'd still leave some gold. Just because the guy was being a prick doesn't mean its not his livelihood.

Lisandra Elsinore
Female Neutral Good Aasimar Oracle of Life, Level 1, Init +4, HP 12/12, Speed 30
AC 18, Touch 14, Flat-footed 14, CMD 15, Fort +4, Ref +4, Will +7, CMB +1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Cold Iron Morning Star +1 (1d8+1, x2)
Lgt. Crossbow (20) +4 (1d8, 19-20/x2)
Studded Leather, Light Steel Shield (+3 Armor, +1 Shield, +4 Dex)
Abilities: Str 13, Dex 18, Con 19, Int 17, Wis 20, Cha 23
Condition None
Favored Class Bonus: Add +1/2 to the oracle's level for the purpose of determining the effects of one revelation (Channel Energy)
Traits: Touched by Divinity, Seeker and Blessed Touch
Feats: Selective Channeling
Skills: Diplomacy +12, Heal +12, Knowledge Planes +7, Perception +12, Spellcraft +7

Lisandra was born to Arryn and Valerie Elsinore in the city of Kenabres sometime during the 4th Crusader; she is the youngest of three children, with two older brothers named Edgar and Wilem. The Elsinore clan is a widely known for being devout, almost fanatical followers of Sarenrae. The family grew to prominence during the 3rd Crusade, as Lisandra's Grandfather Garet Elsinore famously led a series of inquisitions that resulted in the execution of many suspected witches and agent provocateurs. Though Garet was steadfast in the righteousness of his deeds, some scholars debate whether the inquisitions were moral or effective. Tragically, or fortunately depending on a person's point of view, Garet himself was betrayed by forces within the Mendevian crusades, and was assassinated when Lisandra's father Arryn was still a young boy. Though Arryn remained sa devout disciple of Sarenrae, being raised by his mother allowed for a more balanced outlook than that of his father.

Arryn himself had become a renown hero of the crusades, having led several successful campaigns into the Worldwound, though the crusades themselves were a failure. During one such raid, he rescued Valerie Warden, a woman of untold serenity whom appeared to be of celestial descent. They fell in love, and were married with children in short order. Arryn settled into a more relaxed and happy way of life, though he trained his children for their eventual service to Sarenrae. As such, Lisandra received combat training alongside her older brothers from a young age. Though she was physically smaller than her brothers, she kept pace with them and showed some martial ability in spite of the fact she detested violence. Ultimately, Lisandra showed a far more promising talent for channeling the divine and healing as she entered late adolescence, her very physical being seemingly brimming with positive energy. Her true gift for healing had clearly descended from her mother, who recognized that her child was manifesting great celestial powers. From that point forward, Lisandra was trained to harness her natural talents, and in time became a sought after healer and medic in Kenabres.

Presently, Lisandra lives a peaceful and relatively happy life in Kenabres, rendering medical and divine healing services at various temples and hospitals within the city. Though not officially associated with the Church of Sarenrae, she is a devout follower of the Dawnflower, and regularly worships in her many temples.

The young healer appears mostly in good spirits, rarely without a smile or kind word for the people of Kenabres. She is optimistic, and given to allowing herself to enjoy life and all it has to offer as a defiance to the tyranny and misery the Demons would like to exact on the people of Golarion. Though she is more open and accepting of other races than her siblings, she sometimes has to fight off leering suspicions when around Tieflings or others with clearly some demonic heritage.

If a non-enemy character who is adjacent asks you to heal them, or asks you for help and you can tell they have taken damage or drain or suffer from a disease or poison, you must help them on your next tum. If they have a condition or suffer from a poison or disease that you can neutralize or cure with any ability you possess or any spell you can cast, you must do so as your next action. Otherwise, if they have taken any damage, you must cast a spell or use an ability that heals hit points. Also, you cannot perform a coup de grace. You gain the ability to lay on hands, as the paladin ability, using your curse level as your paladin level.

At 5th level, you gain a mercy, as the paladin ability.

At 10th level, you gain a second mercy, and can exchange your first mercy for a different one.

At 15th level, you gain a third mercy, and can exchange one of your existing mercies for a different one.

Lisandra will be selecting the Hierophant mythic pathway; no plans for multi-classing, pretty much straight Oracle.

The infirmary doors flew open with a sudden bang, soldiers pouring in with wounded comrades slung over their shoulders, or carried on makeshift gurneys. The band of knights carried the banner of some knightly order or another, but it was tattered and blood stained; if they were fresh recruits, they were blooded and fresh no more.

Amidst the chaos, a lovely silver haired girl glided about, triaging all wounded in a methodical but not unkindly manner ”Put this young man over there, and move this stretcher to the corner, I’ll tend to him in a moment.” Before moving onto the next casualty, the young medic paused and stopped the stretcher she had just sent away to talk to a clearly frightened young man ”Listen, everything will be fine, okay? We’ll take good care of you here.” Her bedside manner was impeccable; the boy’s fate was uncertain, but he seemed to relax at her soothing voice and assured demeanor.

Suddenly, a hulking ulfen man in fullplate armor thundered into the infirmary. Though he was barking at various soldiers in his native tongue, it was clear to the silver haired girl that he was in charge. Suddenly, one of the soldiers pointed her out to the commanding officer, and he nodded as he barreled towards her. He was a giant of man, over a foot taller than she was, but the girl appeared undeterred by his intimidating presence. He appeared impatient, agitated and above all… angry ”You there, girl, you’re in charge here? Your name?” The last question appeared more a command than a request.

”Lisandra. How can I help you Commander?” She was cool and diplomatic under pressure, and clearly had plenty experience dealing with military types. The commander had obviously suffered a defeat, or at the very least a setback out in the Worldwound. Appearing somewhat mollified by her response, he relaxed slightly and gave a quick report to her ”Our battalion was ambushed by vulture demons, cut us to shreds.”

Lisandra interjected, feeling it necessary to educate the commander before letting him continue ”Vrock. Frightening demons; their spores will grow into vines that can strangle a full-grown man. We’ll have to purify your soldiers, just to be safe.” The ulfen man initially appeared annoyed at having been interrupted, but his attitude quickly changed when he realized the gravity of the situation ”Aye, spores; purification you say? Aye, if that's what you think." He appeared unsure of himself, and shook his head to clear his mind "Anyway, this is just the first wave of injured I’m afraid, you can expect dozens more.” Looking over towards his men, he stroked his beard and appeared pensive and distracted ”Can you handle his many younf lady?”

Lisandra smiled, and placed a hand gently on his arm to regain his attention ”We can commander. Trust me when I say that healing the injured is my gift from the Dawnflower; your men will live to fight another day if I have anything to say about it.” Something about the girl's confidence put the commander at ease, and he smiled ever so slightly, probably for the first time in weeks.

Seemingly, it was she who was in charge now; Lisandra smiled assuredly while pointing towards the wall ”Now commander, go sit over on that bench. Your injuries are minor, so you’ll just have to wait awhile.”

Tchriash Suntouched
Female archon-blooded aasimar (lawbringers) warpriest of Iomedae 1 (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Class Guide 60, Pathfinder RPG Advanced Race Guide 84)
LG Medium outsider (native)
Init +6; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +6
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Defense
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AC 19, touch 14, flat-footed 15 (+4 armor, +4 Dex, +1 shield)
hp 14 (1d8+6)
Fort +7, Ref +4, Will +7
Defensive Abilities hard to kill; Resist acid 5, cold 5, electricity 5
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee longsword +5 (1d8+4/19-20)
Melee cold iron longsword +5 (1d8+4/19-20)
Special Attacks blessings 3/day, mythic power (5/day, surge +1d6), sacred weapon (1d6, 1 rounds/day)
Warpriest Spells Prepared (CL 1st; concentration +6)
1st—burning disarm (DC 16), cure light wounds, divine favor
0 (at will)—detect magic, resistance, stabilize
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Statistics
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Str 19, Dex 19, Con 20, Int 13, Wis 21, Cha 16
Base Atk +0; CMB +4; CMD 18
Feats Saving Shield[APG], Weapon Focus (longsword)
Traits exposed to awfulness, reactionary
Skills Intimidate +9, Knowledge (religion) +5, Perception +6, Sense Motive +7; Racial Modifiers +2 Intimidate, +2 Sense Motive
Languages Celestial, Common, Elven
SQ blessings (glory: demoralizing glory, glorious presence, good: battle companion, holy strike)
Other Gear chain shirt, light steel shield, longsword, 91 gp
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Special Abilities
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+1 to Hit & Damage vs. Evil Outsiders +1 racial bonus on attack and damage rolls against evil outsiders.
Blessings (3/day) (Su) Pool of power used to activate Blessing abilities.
Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white vision only).
Energy Resistance, Acid (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Acid attacks.
Energy Resistance, Cold (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Cold attacks.
Energy Resistance, Electricity (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Electricity attacks.
Exposed to Awfulness (1/day) Vs Death/Incapacitation by demon: Reroll saving throw as free action, keep 2nd result.
Hard to Kill (Ex) Automatically stabilize when dying, and only die at neg Con x 2.
Sacred Weapon (1 rounds/day) (Su) As a swift action, grant weapon enhancement bonus or certain powers.
Saving Shield As an immediate action, add a 2 shield bonus to an adjacent ally's AC.

Tchirash Suntouched was born of strife, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say she was born near strife. Her parents were both crusaders that fought in and around the Worldwound, and it was in this environment that she was born. It is hard to say where the touch of the divine came, but there is no mistaking that it is there. From the golden hair that shines with a metallic brilliance, at times seeming to cast a sunlight glow in bright light, to the eyes that are the shade of the cloudless daytime sky, she seemed to have something otherworldly about her.

Tchirash came into the world in the camps closest to the Worldwound, her mother hiding the pregnancy as long as she could, and then refusing to leave the camp until her husband could as well. Neither happened. Her father disappeared into the Worldwound during a skirmish, and no trace of him nor his company was ever found. Shortly after, Tchirash’s mother went into labor, and just as the baby was born, the lights in the birthing room blazed to sunlight intensity, seeming to focus on the birth. The labor was hard, and Tchirash’s mother died on the birthing bed. The priests of Iomedae took the flaring of the lights as a sign, and raised the child at an Abbey in Kenabres.

Tchirash grew up in the faith, and always felt the touch of Iomedae deeply. Yet even she knew, early on that she was meant for more than the peaceful teachings of the Goddess. Still, the martial restrictions of the Paladins she found didn’t leave her the freedom she felt she needed to pursue what she thought the Goddess was directing her towards. She continued to practice arms with the Paladins, and grew her prowess with Iomedae’s own Longsword and a shield.

She continued to practice both her divine calling and martial practice, knowing that she had a different path, but it didn’t become evident until the Dretch came loose of the Worldwound and found its way to the lands around the Abbey. Tchriash grabbed her sword and shield and moved to face the creature, which was menacing a woman and her child. The woman already bled from several claw marks that scored the woman’s arms and side from where the beast toyed with her, while the woman tried to protect her child. Tchirash felt righteous rage boiling inside her, and felt the touch of Iomedae when she went to the family’s aid.

Many accounts of what happened then exist, with differing details, but a few things follow each story. As Tchirash moved closer, her blade glowed yellow-gold, and when Tchirash brought it to bear on the demon, it howled in agony at the touch of the blade, which left garish wounds that did not heal, where other weapons made barely a mark. These blows quickly led to the demon fleeing the battle. Reports also claim that Tchirash herself glowed dimly with that same yellow-gold sunlight hue, but Tchirash herself discounts that as people embellishing the normal shine of her hair. She also exhibited healing abilities that were beyond her current skill, according to other members of Sarenrae’s clergy who witnessed the fight. Tchirash did not escape unscathed from the battle. She suffered grievous wounds from putting herself between the demon and the family, and needed the constant attention of the clergy of Iomedae to survive, despite being at death's door for near to ten days.

Once she regained her health, Tchirash knew from that moment on what Iomedae wanted of her. She felt it in her blood and soul. She was born to fight demons in her goddesses name. She was meant to be a Warpriest. Tchirash Picture

I am looking at the Guardian Path as my first choice, but may opt for the Champion path, depending on the group.

Tchirash wiped her brow after the afternoon sparring, and smiled at the others there, a bit of comradely banter being thrown back and forth. Tchirash excused herself from it shortly though, finding it starting to grate on her a bit.

One of the younger initiates followed, speeding his stride to catch up with her. "Tchirash, why are you leaving? Jonas was going to start bets on who could eat the hottest peppers from the garden." Jonas tried to get a smile from her, but soon just fell into stride beside her.

Tchirash didn't say much, until she reached the wall and could see Kenabres, and across the river to the Worldwound. "Sorry Jonas, but this day I'm not in the mood for much company." She afforded Jonas a small but pretty smile.

Jonas smiled back a bit wanly and then struck the heel of his hand to his forehead, "Piss in the 'Wound! I forgot what today was for you Tchirash. I'm sorry, I'll go, and leave you be.

Jonas started to make his way away, but Tchirash grabbed his arm lightly, and Jonas turned back. The setting sun shone through her hair, and her heritage showed in the metallic sheen her celestial ancestry gave her. Jonas' breath caught at the sight of the beautiful Aasimar, and Tchirash just smiled, "It's okay, Jonas. I think tonight I'd like company. It's good to remind myself that even though some people are lost, there are still others who make things better just by being around."

Jonas smiled, and just took Tchirash's arm and stood looking over the landscape, and they stayed that way for a while, till the sun was almost set, "Which crusade did your parents die in?"

"The second. And they didn't die, they disappeared in the 'Wound. They may still be there.' It was a litany she'd told herself for almost 7 decades, and it lost some of its veracity long ago. "Sorry, Jonas, but I have to believe that, and that the wounds I received mean something. She sighed heavily, "Sometimes I think I'm forgetting what it means to live. That the 'Wound, and the fight with the demons is all I'll know."

Jonas let her lean her head on his shoulder, and grinned, "Well a good start would be watching those fools try to eat peppers from the garden, and run looking for water." She squeezed his arm a bit and stayed there for a few moments more.

We'll have to think of something to do to the privvy later, to make it more interesting." They shared a laugh and started to walk back to the gardens, Tchirash feeling much lighter of spirits that she usually did on the anniversary of her parents disappearance.

Tarren
Aasimar Cleric 1
LG Medium Outsider(Native)
Init +4; Perception +9
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DEFENSE
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AC 20, touch 13, flatfooted 17 (+3 dex, +5 armour, +2 shield)
HP 13 (1d8+5)
Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +6
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OFFENSE
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Speed
Melee
Ranged
Cleric Spellcasting Concentration +5
Spell-like Abilities 1/day Continual Flame, Protection from Evil
Channel Positive Energy 1d6 DC 15(7/day)
Domain Powers Touch of Good(7/day), Seize the Initiative(7/day)
Orisons (DC 14) Enhanced Diplomacy, Guidance, Light, Stabilise
1st spells (DC 15) 2+1/day (D)Divine Favour, OPEN, OPEN
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STATISTICS
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Str 18, Dex 16, Con 18, Int 15, Wis 18, Cha 18
Base Attack +0; CMB +4; CMD 18
Feats Angelic Blood
Traits Touched by Divinity, Seeker, Omen, Deft Dodger
Drawback
Favoured Class Cleric +1HP
Skills(4 per level) *only shows class skills*
0 Appraise +2
0 Craft +2
1 Diplomacy +8
0 Heal +4
1 Intimidate +11
0 Knowledge (arcana) +2
0 Knowledge (history) +2
0 Knowledge (nobility) +2
0 Knowledge (planes) +2
0 Knowledge (religion) +2
0 Linguistics +2
1 Perception +9
0 Profession +4
1 Sense Motive +10
0 Spellcraft +2
ACP -6
Languages Common, Celestial, Dwarven, Elven.
Equipment Silver Holy Symbol of Iomedae w/compartment(1lb), Scalemail(30lbs), Heavy Steel Shield(15lbs), Longsword(4lbs), Masterwork Backpack(4lbs), Spell Component Pouch(2lbs), Holy Text of Iomedae(3lbs), Potion of Cure Light Wounds, Flask of Holy Water(1lb), Explorer's Outfit(8lbs), Belt Pouch(.5lb), Spring Loaded Wrist Sheath(1lb), Cold Iron Dagger(1lb).
Current encumberance 70 lbs (light < 100lbs; medium 101-200lbs; heavy 201-300lbs)
Money 0gp
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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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Weapon and Armour Clerics are proficient with all simple weapons, light armor, medium armor, and shields (except tower shields). Clerics are also proficient with the favored weapon of their deities.
Lawful Good Aura(Ex) A cleric of a chaotic, evil, good, or lawful deity has a particularly powerful aura corresponding to the deity's alignment (see detect evil for details).
Bonus Languages A cleric's bonus language options include Celestial, Abyssal, and Infernal (the languages of good, chaotic evil, and lawful evil outsiders, respectively). These choices are in addition to the bonus languages available to the character because of her race.
Spontaneous Casting A good cleric can channel stored spell energy into healing spells that she did not prepare ahead of time. The cleric can “lose” any prepared spell that is not an orison or domain spell in order to cast any cure spell of the same spell level or lower (a cure spell is any spell with “cure” in its name).
Archon Domain
Touch of Good(Sp) You can touch a creature as a standard action, granting a sacred bonus on attack rolls, skill checks, ability checks, and saving throws equal to half your cleric level (minimum 1) for 1 round. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Wisdom modifier.
Domain Spells 1st—divine favour, 2nd—align weapon (good only), 3rd—prayer, 4th—holy smite, 5th—dispel evil, 6th—planar ally (archons only), 7th—holy word, 8th—holy aura, 9th—summon monster IX (good spell only).
Tactics Domain
Seize the Initiative(Sp) Whenever you and your allies roll for initiative, you can grant one ally within 30 feet the ability to roll twice and take either result. This decision is made before results are revealed. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Wisdom modifier.
Domain Spells 1st—magic weapon, 2nd—aid, 3rd—magic vestment, 4th—divine power, 5th—greater command, 6th—blade barrier, 7th—power word blind, 8th—greater planar ally, 9th—power word kill.
Channel Energy(Su) 1d6 Regardless of alignment, any cleric can release a wave of energy by channeling the power of her faith through her holy (or unholy) symbol. This energy can be used to cause or heal damage, depending on the type of energy channeled and the creatures targeted.

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RACIAL TRAITS AND FEATS
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Touched by Divinity(Protection from Evil) You begin play with a silver holy symbol of your chosen deity for free. In addition, choose one domain associated with your chosen deity. You gain the use of that domain’s 1st-level domain spell as a spell-like ability usable once per day (CL equals your character level).
Celestial Resistance Aasimars have acid resistance 5, cold resistance 5, and electricity resistance 5.
Skilled Aasimar have a +2 racial bonus on Intimidate and Sense Motive checks.
Spell-like Ability Aasimars can use continual flame once per day as a spell-like ability (caster level equal to the aasimar's class level).
Darkvision Aasimar have darkvision 60 ft. (they can see perfectly in the dark up to 60 feet.)
Good Influence You gain a +1 trait bonus on Diplomacy checks when attempting to persuade a nongood creature to make a decision that benefits the cause of good, and when persuading a nonlawful creature to make a decision in line with the laws of the region.
Lantern Spirit You feel a strange sense of nostalgia whenever you use your continual flame spell-like ability, and can use it as a move action instead of a standard action.
Angelic Blood You gain a +2 bonus on saving throws against effects with the evil descriptor and on Constitution checks to stabilize when you are reduced to negative hit points (but not dead). Furthermore, each time you take bleed or blood drain damage, each undead creature or creature with the evil subtype that is currently adjacent to you also takes 1 point of damage.

It has been as long as she can remember that Tarren has not wanted to be a crusader and join the forces of good in conquering the hellish armies. Ever since she was a girl she has felt the call of Iomedae. Her father has been both parents to her since her mother had died giving birth to her. They didn't often speak of it but she knew he thought of her everytime he looked at her. He taught her to discipline herself and listen to the voice inside her head that she claimed to have dreams about. Her mother had been a priest of Iomedae and since her first days she was taken to be blessed by a cleric and had regularly gone to the temple to worship.

When she was old enough she was admitted to be a cleric by the church and continued her devotion to Iomedae. Following in the footsteps of her god she formed her own crusade, bringing the light to those in need. Cleansing evil and restoring hope to those suffering. Soon her eyes turned to the Worldwound after a traveling former crusader came to her city and told her his story. When she revealed her desires to her father he cried and didn't want her to go. If he lost her as well he wouldn't be able to live on. She had been in several dangers already though she kept most of the details from him. She waited as long as she could and came to him again. He had finally resigned himself and blessed her and prayed she return safely. She promised she would. Then she packed her few posessions and journeyed the long road to the north.

She stopped in Vigil and joined a group of pilgrims that were also going, Armasse was coming and it was said to be the celebration not to be missed if you were near the worldwound. She would find someone who was trying to raise a crusade and give them her full support. There was one message that she kept receiving in her dreams and it always showed her a hellish dessert just as the old crusader had described to her. In fact it was at that point that she knew where she needed to go. She could not ignore the visions.

Plan is to go Heirophant as per trait. Feats are mostly going to be racial feats to eventually get wings. And the racial channel feats after i get channel alignment so i can move enemies around.

The house was eerily silent. If she had not cleared the rats out of the basement last week she thought you would be able to hear them squeek now. Her father was angry, perhaps rightly so. But she could feel the weight of her dreams pulling her on a course that would change her life whether he liked it or not. How long could she wait before leaving him. She didn't want him to feel abandoned. He doesn't understand... Iomedae help him understand that you need me

The dinner that night was the most tastless she had eaten. She and her father sat eating in silence, not even looking at each other. The forks scraping off the plates, spoons scooping up soup, slurps louder than they should be. It was too uncomfortable and she had lost her appetite. "May I be excused," she asked, "I'm not feeling too well." He waved his hand dismissively, grudgingly giving permission to leave.

She went straight to her room and sat on her rug to pray. How can I make him see the necessity of this journey. She decided to write in her journal for a couple minutes when her father called up to her. "Someone here for you Tarren." She had no idea who it could be and rushed down the stairs.

"Tarren! You have to come with me quick!" Her friend Sarsha said in a hurry and ran out the door without saying anything further. She looked strangely at her father who just shrugged. She ran out after her friend and caught up quickly. "What is it, why the hurry?"

"You have to hear this. Arem found out something about the worldwound. Best if you hear it from him." The two of them finally slowed down and walked the rest of the way towards their friends house. It was a peaceful day, leaves blowing in the wind and the sounds of nature around them as they walked the short path to the house.

"Ah Tarren and Sarsha, please come in. I have interesting news." He ushered them into his house closing the door behind them and lead them into the sitting room. "What is it?" Tarren asked impatiently. She still had a problem with patience even after it had been drilled into her for years.

He smiled though. It was a topic he knew she had a keen interest in recently. You couldn't keep her quiet about it. "There are rumours that another crusade is going to be called soon. There has been hearsay among the clerics that I have been talking to. Up in Kenabres they hold a yearly celebration of their continued resistance against the Worldwound. This 'Armasse' is in 6 months. They will likely put out the call for soldiers to join then. I suggest, if you are so adamant that this is your path, that you get yourself up there in 6 months."

The tall, lanky dwarf was eating a large sandwich during the briefing. It's pungent aroma confirmed that it was laced with Varisian spices, and the sandwich was quite quite greasy, so it was wrapped in a husk of corn. As the briefing is concluded, he finishes eating his sandwich and licks his fingers. Somehow his beard is still untouched by sandwich fixings.

His hands were calloused and he wore a bowguard for his left wrist that was well scratched. He has an assortment of arrows of many different make--the gleam of alchemical silver is noticeable on a few points. The bow is a fine composite bow with the initials of the bowyer carved in the front.

He smiles and his face lights up briefly. "My last two missions were fancy, smancy diplomatic missions. Finally, one better suited to my skills. I'll take those.."

Jory grabs the arrows and then his piercing stare moves over you, and his facial expression seems to change between scowl and smirk.

He nods to Leodric: "I like your attitude. But the big man has a point. I would shelter behind him IF I needed cover and do it gladly."

"Now, I walk in front. I am a scout and a skirmisher. If things get nasty, I hope the heavies move up to cover me. I notice traps, but I don't remove them. I don't need anyone noisy spoiling it."

Jory hands a wand to Gaius. "I'll tell you when I need it. Feel free to use the armor of mages yourself."

He holds up another wand. "This is my healing wand. I'm not stingy with it either. Especially since I can't make it work." He hands it to Garret. "Don't lose it. I knew a hobbit that lost valuable things until I shook him. It made me unhappy."

Character sheet has his first level build, but the stats rolled will replace the stats on sheet
STR=21; INT=12; WIS=24; CON=21; DEX=18; CHA=7

See character sheet, but planned addition. Bimbur appears at the festival of Kanabres by request of his old friend, and mentor.

Champion and maybe dual to trickster if no trickster in party

Chrust
Male tengu illusionist (phantasm) 1
CG Medium humanoid (tengu)
Init +7; Senses low-light vision; Perception +6

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DEFENSE
________

AC 15, touch 15, flat-footed 10 (+5 Dex)
hp 10 (d6+4);
Fort +3; Ref +5; Will +5;

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OFFENSE
_______

Speed 30 ft.
Melee bite +4 (d3+4), 2 claws +4 (d3+4), cold iron dagger +4 (d4+4/19-20)
Ranged light crossbow +5 (d8/19-20)
Special Attacks terror 8/day
Illusionist Spells Prepared (CL 1st; concentration +7)

1st—color spray (DC 16), grease (DC 16), mage armor, silent image (DC 16)
0—detect magic, light, prestidigitation

Opposed Schools Enchantment, Evocation

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STATISTICS
__________

Str 19, Dex 20, Con 17, Int 20, Wis 16, Cha 11
Base Atk +0; CMB +4; CMD 19
Feats School Strike, Scribe ScrollB
Traits Demon Slayer, Reactionary, Riftwarden Orphan
Skills Acrobatics +6, Appraise +9, Knowledge (arcana) +9, Linguistics +9, Knowledge (local) +9, Knowledge (planes) +9, Knowledge (religion) +9, Perception +6, Spellcraft +9, Stealth +7; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception, +4 Linguistics, +2 Stealth
Languages Abyssal, Common, Draconic, Elven, Goblin, Orc, Tengu
SQ arcane bond (amulet), claw attack, extended illusions, gifted linguist, natural weapons, sneaky.
Combat Gear alchemist’s fire, bolts (20); Other Gear cold iron dagger, light crossbow, spellbook [all non-enchantment/evocation cantrips and spells prepared, plus cause fear, endure elements, grease, protection from evil, vanish)

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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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Arcane Bond (Ex or Sp)
Wizards who select a bonded object begin play with one at no cost. Objects that are the subject of an arcane bond must fall into one of the following categories: amulet, ring, staff, wand, or weapon. These objects are always masterwork quality. Weapons acquired at 1st level are not made of any special material. If the object is an amulet or ring, it must be worn to have effect, while staves, wands, and weapons must be held in one hand. If a wizard attempts to cast a spell without his bonded object worn or in hand, he must make a concentration check or lose the spell. The DC for this check is equal to 20 + the spell's level. If the object is a ring or amulet, it occupies the ring or neck slot accordingly.
A bonded object can be used once per day to cast any one spell that the wizard has in his spellbook and is capable of casting, even if the spell is not prepared. This spell is treated like any other spell cast by the wizard, including casting time, duration, and other effects dependent on the wizard's level. This spell cannot be modified by metamagic feats or other abilities. The bonded object cannot be used to cast spells from the wizard's opposition schools (see arcane school below).
A wizard can add additional magic abilities to his bonded object as if he has the required Item Creation Feats and if he meets the level prerequisites of the feat. For example, a wizard with a bonded dagger must be at least 5th level to add magic abilities to the dagger (see Craft Magic Arms and Armor feat). If the bonded object is a wand, it loses its wand abilities when its last charge is consumed, but it is not destroyed and it retains all of its bonded object properties and can be used to craft a new wand. The magic properties of a bonded object, including any magic abilities added to the object, only function for the wizard who owns it. If a bonded object's owner dies, or the item is replaced, the object reverts to being an ordinary masterwork item of the appropriate type.
If a bonded object is damaged, it is restored to full hit points the next time the wizard prepares his spells. If the object of an arcane bond is lost or destroyed, it can be replaced after 1 week in a special ritual that costs 200 gp per wizard level plus the cost of the masterwork item. This ritual takes 8 hours to complete. Items replaced in this way do not possess any of the additional enchantments of the previous bonded item. A wizard can designate an existing magic item as his bonded item. This functions in the same way as replacing a lost or destroyed item except that the new magic item retains its abilities while gaining the benefits and drawbacks of becoming a bonded item.

Claw Attack
Tengus with this racial trait have learned to use their claws as natural weapons. They gain two claw attacks as primary natural attacks that deal 1d3 points of damage, and are treated as having the Improved Unarmed Strike feat for the purpose of qualifying for other feats. This racial trait replaces swordtrained.

Extended Illusions (Su)[b]
Any illusion spell you cast with a duration of “concentration” lasts a number of additional rounds equal to 1/2 your wizard level after you stop maintaining concentration (minimum +1 round). At 20th level, you can make one illusion spell with a duration of “concentration” become permanent. You can have no more than one illusion made permanent in this way at one time. If you designate another illusion as permanent, the previous permanent illusion ends.

[b]Gifted Linguist
Tengus gain a +4 racial bonus on Linguistics checks, and learn 2 languages each time they gain a rank in Linguistics rather than 1 language.

Natural Weapons
A tengu has a bite attack that deals 1d3 points of damage.

Sneaky
Tengus gain a +2 racial bonus on Perception and Stealth checks.

Terror (Su)
As a standard action, you can make a melee touch attack that causes a creature to be assailed by nightmares only it can see. The creature provokes an attack of opportunity from you or an ally of your choice. Creatures with more Hit Dice than your wizard level are unaffected. This is a mind-affecting fear effect. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Intelligence modifier.

Chrust's parents journeyed to Kenabres as Riftwarden crusaders. Shortly after his birth, they were called away on a mission into the Worldwound, and they left Chrust with a halfling foster family. They never returned, and Chrust's foster family raised him with no knowledge of his true parentage. It was obvious that he was adopted, but they made sure to never speak of the Riftwardens. Chrust's odd looks caused plenty of bullying from the other children in Kenabres, and he learned quickly to avoid the bullies. Once he filled out and was easily stronger than the vast majority of his peers, the bullying took other forms, and Chrust learned that it was easier to simply retreat into the library and pour himself into his studies than to try getting his peers to accept him. His natural intellect made him a great student, and he showed some talent for the arcane, so he received admission to a wizard training school. While there, one of the instructors noticed Chrust's birthmark and asked him about it. When Chrust confessed that he didn't know anything about it, the instructor informed him that it meant that he was an orphan of Riftwardens. Armed with this knowledge, and surmising what must have happened to his parents, he devoted himself to learning the weaknesses of demons and preparing to return home to avenge his parents. Now the time has come to do so.

I plan to take the Archmage path. I might go into a prestige class later, if it seems to fit the way the character is developing, but otherwise I will stick to wizard.

The burly tengu taps the birthmark on his cheek with a claw, contemplating the insane price the shopkeeper is asking for simple spell components. "For what sort of fool do you take me, sir? I am a trained, well-informed wizard. Your antics may work on simple folk, but not me. It is, of course, your perogative to ask whatever price--however excessive it may be--but if you persist in exercising that perogative, I will be exercising mine to take my business elsewhere."

Rakeesh Sah Tarna
Male aasimar (angelkin) paladin 1
LG Medium outsider (native)
Init +5; Senses Darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +3
DEFENSE
AC 17, touch 10, flat-footed 17 (+7 Armor)
hp 14 (1d10+4)
Fort +5, Ref +0, Will +4
Resist acid 5, cold 5, electricity 5
OFFENSE
Speed 30 feet
Melee bastard sword +8 (1d10+12/19-20)
Special Attacks smite evil 1/day
Spell-Like Abilities CL 1st
1/day — corruption resistance
At Will — detect evil
STATISTICS
Str 26, Dex 11, Con 17, Int 17, Wis 14, Cha 21
Base Atk +1; CMB +9; CMD 19
Feats Noble Scion (War)
Skills (ranks)
+9 Diplomacy (1)
+4 Heal (0)
+10 Intimidate (1)
+5 Knowledge (nobility) (0)
+5 Knowledge (planes) (0)
+7 Knowledge (religion) (1)
+3 Perception (1)
+6 Sense Motive (1)
Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Common, Hallit, Osiriani
SQ aura of good
Traits Demon Slayer, Exposed to Awfulness, Omen
Gear bastard sword, splint mail
Additional Gear backpack, bed roll, belt pouch, coffee pot w/2 lbs. coffee, cold-weather outfit, flint and steel, grappling hook w/hemp rope (50 ft.), mess kit, trail rations (6), travelers outfit, waterskin, wooden holy symbol, 34 gp 7 sp
Weight 97.5 lbs.

“Ain’t you cold?” one of the mercenaries called back.

“Freezing,” Rakeesh stated flatly. “I feel like there is ice pumping through my veins.”

“Then bring yerself over to the fire, ya fool!”

“It is of no help.” Rakeesh looked wistfully off towards the south. “I was once one of the Lords of Osirion… a descendent of Ragathiel himself… a being of glorious golden fire… a child of the princes of Heaven, Hell, and Golarion all in one…” his voice dropped nearly to a whisper. “The retribution of the Empyreal Lord is terrifying, my friends. Do not neglect your duty. Do not squander the gifts of fire and blood.”

“Oh, yeah?” the corner of the mercenary’s mouth turned up in skeptical amusement. “And what brings ya on this trek to the most godsforsaken corner of the world, yer highness?”

“The General of Vengeance has taken the fire from my heart, but has replaced it with purpose. I go now to seek that purpose, to honor the nobility of my heritage. To be worthy of my heritage.”

“Ya thinkin’ to earn yer wings, yer majesty?” the bruiser laughed.

Rakeesh shook his head. “Ragathiel does not forgive. That I live is more than a miracle. Once he turns his eyes upon you in anger…” Rakeesh shivered. “No. I seek vengeance. Demonkind are foul, unholy creatures, unwelcome upon this plane. But, it is not for them that I hold this righteous retribution. I seek vengeance upon myself. It was the gift of my blood that I squandered, and by my blood shall it be paid.”

The mercenary nudged his companion, “Suicide by demon.”

Rakeesh glanced over to where his sword lay propped against a nearby tree. “I am not without some skill in the arts of war. Nor am I a fool, to be easily undone by the guile and deceit of demons and their ilk. A man must be a fool to believe he is invulnerable anywhere, much less on the very doorstep of the Abyss. Crusaders should not expect to live to a ripe old age. But, I do not plan to surrender my life cheaply.”

“I hear’d tell the spawn of angels glow like the sun, and heal folks with their tears. You don’t look much like any angel to me.”

“If you had seen me before, you would not speak such words,” Rakeesh smiled sadly. “My eyes glowed like molten gold, and my hair was a wreath of flame. Now…” he looked upon the man with dull grey eyes and ran his hand through his limp flaxen hair. He stood and stretched himself to his full, considerable height, turning his strong, slender frame to ease the tension in his back.

“Well, at least it makes for an int’restin’ story, yer lordship!” the man guffawed. “Beggin’ yer pardon o’ course!” A few of the other mercenaries that Rakeesh was traveling with chuckled at the joke. “Still, ya can’t kill no demons if ya catch yer death afore ya get there. Come and warm yerself.”

“The fire holds no appeal for me. It is a pale candle to the inferno I hold within…”

.............

Twenty years ago... Tarna Sah Anun spun to avoid the barbed stinger that lashed down. With a leap and another twist he avoided the massive pincer that grabbed at his ankles. He brought his sword in a raking strike across the creature’s foreleg. It barely scratched the surface of his carapace. “I cannot damage it!” he cried.

Nefut Ira Tarna weaved her hands and chanted a litany of power to Ragathiel, bringing holy fire down on the back of the fiendish scorpion. Tarna dashed around the creature as it writhed in agony from the blast. With a massive swing of his sword, he sheared the end of the creature’s barbed tail. A spray of caustic black poison erupted from the wound, covering Tarna’s face. He fell to the ground retching, as the poison seeped into his wounds.

Nefut screamed in horror as the back of the scorpion’s massive claw swept Tarna away, leaving him lying broken dozens of feet from the battle. The Abyssal creature advanced on her, gouts of acidic bile still spilling from its wounded tail. Nefut drew upon her most powerful spell, channeling the divine power of the General of Vengeance directly into her frail body. Instantly her speed and power increased, rivaling that of her warrior husband’s. She charged, scooping up his sword as she attacked.

The raw divine power flowed unchecked through muscle and bone and vein. She swung the sword over and over, chipping away at the demon’s carapace. The fiend lunged at her with claw and mandible. She deflected the great pincer over her head, and drove towards the creature’s maw. As it bit down, she struck up. The sword drove through the creatures open mouth and deep into its brain, bursting forth through the iron-hard shell that had so far remained impenetrable.

Nefut crawled across the sand towards her husband. There was no bringing him back from the brink. All of the gifts of power Ragathiel had bestowed upon her were spent in the battle. The crucible of her final calling still burned white hot within her, divine energy permeating every pore… and deeper places she had not yet spoken of to her husband. “Do not despair, my love,” she whispered. She cradled his shattered head within her lap, and held it close to her stomach, close to her womb. “We are to be blessed.”

………………

One year ago... Rakeesh Sah Tarna reclined on the silken divan. The dancer was lithe and graceful, her movement pleasing, and showing the promise of greater pleasures to come. A scantily clad servant tried to fill his glass as he swayed to the fantasia being played by harp and cymbal. With a squeak she spilled the contents of the decanter across his hand, and on the sleeve of his robe. His eyes, normally the color of molten gold, turned fiery red in an instant. “Worthless, craven insect!” he shouted. “What use have I for a servant such as you?” The flaming mane of crimson that wreathed his head whipped itself into a full conflagration, and the heat pouring off of him forced the terrified girl back.

His mood soured, he stumbled drunkenly to his pagoda. Once he had cooled the inferno within, he would send for the dancer and some more wine. However, within the palatial tent he found an unexpected guest. Nefut did not frequently travel. Injuries from battle and complications in birth had left her corporeal self broken and weak, though she still carried powerful divine magic. “Mother?”

“My son. I have come to beg you once again, turn aside from this life of petty idolatries and vice. You have such gifts within you. Do not treat them with such disdain.” She stood and steadied her son, holding his face in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye. “I granted you your youthful indiscretions. I stood aside as you pursued this life of ease and purposelessness. I stayed silent while you became a wastrel and a bully. But, I cannot stand silent any longer.”

Rakeesh shook himself free of her grasp, nearly falling in the process. “What would you have of me, mother?” he scoffed. “I’ll not throw my life away on some foolish crusade.”

“WORTHLESS, CRAVEN INSECT!” the words exploded from his mother’s throat, but they were not hers. The power behind them was so immense, Rakeesh was thrown to the floor by the very sound. “WHAT USE HAVE I FOR A SERVANT SUCH AS YOU?”

Blackness descended over him as if he had been suddenly submerged in the deepest ice-cold depths of the ocean. The last words he heard as unconsciousness took him was his mother pleading for his life…

Rakeesh will go Guardian for his mythic path. Regarding character levels, I can imagine three possibilities. The first is straight Paladin, with the slightest possibility of a single Ranger dip. The second would be a two level dip into the Holy Vindicator PrC. That would be 100% dependent on how deeply I carried the "punishment" aspect of his backstory. If, instead, Rakeesh goes for a "reconciliation" of sorts with Ragathiel, I might consider as a third option a combination of Oracle levels and Mystery Cultist PrC from Chronicles of the Righteous. The second and third possibilities are fairly story dependent, though...

Rakeesh stepped off of the lakeboat and onto the short pier that led into the city of Egede. The dockworkers shouldered and jostled him to and fro, hustling to begin their labors on the freight craft. But, for the most part, he was ignored. It was not difficult to see why…

Most of the border towns he had crossed through on his journey from the sands of Osirion to this place had been just one side of lawless or the other. But, this place was insanity. Companies of soldiers marched through the streets, pristine in bright colors and shining armor. They crossed paths with the ragged remnants of units furloughed from the front lines. Penniless mercenaries and would-be crusaders screamed for alms in the streets beside deranged madmen, broken by the insanities of the Abyss, screaming at unseen torments or merely begging for release. Puritans vied with low templars as the latter attempted to indulge their vices.

Some few, so broken by the horrors, were fleeing. Rakeesh walked past the pilloried remains of seven such deserters. The new crusaders spat upon them. The veterans doffed their helms.

The urchin that collided with him came off far the worse. Most did. Rakeesh looked down into the dirty face of the boy. “Are you okay?”

“Piss off!” the boy jumped up and bolted around Rakeesh. He actually made it a half-step before the angelkin had him by the collar. I have to be quicker than this in the ‘wound

The boy squirmed and screamed, “Ge’er off me!” But, he might as well have been trying to escape an iron vice. Rakeesh lifted him bodily from the ground. He suffered more than one stinging kick to the ribs, but shortly caught hold of one of the boy’s ankles. Flipping him upside down, he gave him a dizzying shake. “I’ll have it back, son.”

His pouch fell with a clink to the cobblestones.

Rakeesh brought the boy to the ground, not hard, but somewhat less than gently. He placed a foot firmly on the lad’s shoulder. “You know what this emblem means,” he hitched a thumb under the chain around his neck. The boy shook his head. “Which hand was it?”

“Please, I’m hungry!” Rakeesh drew his sword. The boy tried one more violent shake to get free, then threw his free arm over his face, cowering. A moment later he looked up. Rakeesh was half-way down the street, sword sheathed. The bag of coins was still lying where it had fallen. The boy hesitated to pick it up, but Rakeesh never turned around.

As he passed the posting house, Rakeesh thought sullenly about his dwindling funds. He contented himself with some simple rations and water despite the aroma of the food coming from within the inn…

"Go forth and may fortune smile upon your wisdom."

Sitting on a stool at a shady bar in the "questionable" section of the city, a tiefling arcanist nurses his ale. He make light, friendly chatter with the bartending owner. As the night progresses a table of burly half-orcs proceeds to drink MORE than their share of alcohol.

Half-orc 1: "Hey devil! What are YOU doing here?"

Hald-orc 2: "The people here come to drink and enjoy themselves. Not to socialize with evil abominations!"

Bar owner: "Gentlemen, please. Enjoy your drinks and have a good time, but please, don't antagonize my other patrons."

The Bar owner glances back at the tiefling and mutters quietly, "I'm sorry sir Brimmstone. Please don't let them get under your skin. Would you like another drink... on the house?"

"No need to apologize Draylan. I'm used to this sort of thing. My profession takes me all over the country and not everyone is accustomed to the sight of... my kind. Thank you for your indifference. I was just about to call it a night anyway. I have the opportunity for a new adventure beginning tomorrow. A very unique group has asked me to accompany them. I am very excited to take my research to a new place and..."

"Look out!" Exclaims the Bar owner.

A huge set of orc arms wraps around Baru's shoulders and constricts their grip. Forcably being whipped around in a bear hug Baru sees a fist headed for his face.

Baru uses 1 arcane reservoir point to activate Dimensional Slide and teleport to the opposite side of the attacking orc

With a purple mist of fog, Baru disappear and immediately reforms behind the attacking orc. The orc's fist connects squarely on the jaw of the orc that had him grappled, and the orc drops unconscious to the floor. Baru takes advantage of the attacking orcs confusion and utters a phrase in draconic followed by a stomp of his foot.

Baru casts Thunderstomp on the remaining orc

The remaining orc drops to the ground prone. Baru smiles at the bar owner and bows. "Terribly sorry for the disturbance, good day to you." As soon as he ends his salutation, another puff of purple fog engulfs his body and as soon as it dissipates, Baru is gone.

Male half-orc shaman (witch-doc) 1
NG Male humanoid (human, orc)
Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +4
AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 13 (+3 Dex, +3 armor)
hp 12 (1d8+4)
Fort +3, Ref +3, Will +6

Speed 30 ft.
Melee sickler +0 (1d6)
Ranged light crossbow +3 (1d8/19-20)
Special Attacks stardust 7/day

Abilities Str 10, Dex 16, Con 16, Int 13, Wis 18, Cha 18
Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 13
Languages Common, Kellid, Orcish
Feats Spell Penetration
Skills Diplomacy +8, Heal +8, Know (planes) +5, Spellcraft +8, Survival +8
SQ familiar (fox), spirit (heavens), spirit magic

Spells Prepared (CL 1st; concentration +5)
- 1st: cure light, detect evil plus spirit magic
- 0 (at will) – create water, detect magic, mending

Traits: ouched by Divinity (1/day, domain ability – empyreal lord Tolc), Fate's Favored (Whenever you are under the effect of a luck bonus of any kind, that bonus increases by 1)

Spirit Magic
- 1st: color spray

Fave Class: Shaman (+1 hp)

Gear: Studded leather, light crossbow (10 bolts), sickle, backpack, waterskin, 2 pieces of chalk, flint/steel, antitoxin, 59 gp.

The son of a half-orc crusader and a Kellid from the Gate district of Kenebres, it was only natural that Droosch Two-Blood would inherit the ability to touch the spirit world – and it could touch him. While most would interpret shamanism as being witchcraft with a different name, a father in the crusades helped shield his son (and his wife) from the gaze of the inquisitors.
The gift was not always passed down perfectly to each generation, but Droosch nevertheless inherited. As he grew older, Droosch began to hear from his mother stories – stories that she heard as a child, of spirits of the tundra speaking to the seers of old Sarkoris. The spirits of the cold north, would greatly desire the erasure of the abominations that now walk the land. Soon, the voices he heard telling this story, were not his mother’s, but various entities beseeching him to help the crusade.

Droosch stands an even 6’0”, and while his orcish heritage is rather apparent – skin a mottled green, and lower tusks – his figure is more slight, and proportioned to that of a human’s. Dark brown eyes gaze out from beneath his lanky, thick black hair. He’s a generally agreeable person, though he finds some of the Mendevian crusaders a bit pompous – even if they’re sorely needed, mainly due to the “witch hunts”.

Droosch walked down the cobbled streets of Kennebres, taking in the cold morning air. He stopped, looking up at the bruised, purple sky. All things considered – being about spitting distance from a literal Apocalypse on Golarion – a purple sky seemed rather quaint. Then, he paused an gave a quiet growl.
Another thing had grasped the half-orc’s attention: sitting on the roof, about 20 feet above him, was a stark white fox peering down at him. Taking out the consideration that a fox sitting that high up, one may noticed that the canine’s coat seemed to shimmer, slightly showing off a scattering of star and constellations.

Looking around briefly, and seeing no one around, he spoke to the fox. ”Krish, what are you doing up there? What would the Iomedeans think about this?” Krish gave a slight yawn, and stepped off the roof. About half way down, he began to glow, and then slowly floated downwards. He looked up at Droosch, and the other felt a cold breeze as the fox opened his mouth. TOLC, the wind spoke. Droosch frowned – the spirits would speak through Krish at times, but not often.

Droosch gave a slight shiver. It wasn’t the cold, nor from Krish’s word. No, something else felt off. He gazed back at the sky again, feeling the chill and wondering what is bode.

Male human rogue (sanctified rogue) 1
LN Medium humanoid (human)
Init +3; Senses Perception +4
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Defense
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AC 19, touch 16, flat-footed 13 (+3 armor, +3 Dex)
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +1, Ref +8 (+9 vs. traps), Will +2
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Offense
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Spd 30 ft.
Melee short sword +6 (1d6+3/19–20), dagger +6 (1d4+3/19–20)
Ranged shortbow +6 (1d6/x3), dagger +6 (1d4+3/19–20)
Special Attacks sneak attack +1d6
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Statistics
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Str 17, Dex 23, Con 13, Int 14, Wis 12, Cha 15
Base Atk +0; CMB +3; CMD 19
Feats Weapon Finesse
Traits Child of the Crusade, Child of the Temple
Skills Acrobatics +9, Bluff +6, Climb +6, Disable Device +9 (+10 vs. traps), Disguise +6, Knowledge (local) +6, Knowledge (religion) +7, Perception +5, Sleight of Hand +9, Stealth +9
Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Common
SQ child of the temple, dual talent, trapfinding +1
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Gear
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Studded leather armor, short sword, dagger, shortbow w/ 20 arrows, backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, flint and steel, thieves' tools, trail rations (5 days), traveler’s outfit, waterskin, whetstone, winter blanket, wooden holy symbol, 42 gp, 8 sp, 8 cp
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Special Abilities
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Child of the Crusade (Ex) Several generations of Loric's family have served in the crusades, and the righteousness of their cause sometimes feels like it runs in his very blood, hardening him against demonic influence. He's heard many tales of their bravery, and his strong family ties bolster his mind and sense of belonging to the crusade. Once per day when he fails a saving throw against an effect created by a demon which would possess or mentally incapacitate him, he may immediately reroll that saving throw as a free action. He must take the second result, even if it is worse.

Child of the Temple (Ex) Loric has long served at a temple in a large city, picking up on many of the nobility's customs while also spending many hours in the temple libraries studying his faith. As a result, he gains a +1 trait bonus on Knowledge (nobility) and Knowledge (religion) checks, and Knowledge (religion) is always a class skill for him.

Dual Talent (Ex) Loric’s family has always excelled at maximizing their natural gifts. Unlike a typical human, he picks two ability scores to gain a +2 racial bonus. This human racial trait replaces the normal +2 bonus to any single ability score, the bonus feat for being a human, and the skilled trait.

Step 1: Six Concepts Important to Loric

1) The youngest son of a noble family in Taldor, Loric comes from a long tradition of serving in the crusades. He and his brother both sought to honor their ancestors by joining the holy templars of Iomedae and marching to war in the Worldwound. While there, they expected to distinguish themselves so one of them could gain their father's blessing and inherit the family's holdings upon his passing. Yet, the templars chose only his brother to join their ranks, and Loric's exclusion caused a jealous rift between them.
2) Forced to watch his sibling march north three years ago, Loric turned to alternate methods in an effort to follow and upstage him. The young noble built his social circle and practiced the 'game' of Taldoran politics, involving himself in all the intrigues that entails.

3) Eventually, he the eye of the declining priesthood of Aroden, the dead god of humanity. A once powerful force in containing the rise of demon cults in the north, the organization no longer has the resources to raise hosts and wage war. Instead, they rely on more subtle methods to aid the Crusades. The Church recognized his useful, if somewhat morally ambiguous, talents and gladly welcomed and sponsored Loric, sending him to the front lines as their sanctified agent.

4) Once he reached the front lines, Loric established himself as a member of an exclusive and secretive group of spies and operatives working to safeguard the sanctity of crusade. Prepared to cull anyone who falters in their devotion—or who succumbs to demonic temptation — he keeps a watchful eye for enemies both within and beyond the crusader ranks.

5) At times, this role puts him in contention with his brother. The two have reached an uneasy truce at best, keeping a watchful eye on one another as they carry out their respective duties. At the same time, Loric is still beholden to his sponsors within the church of Aroden. Though he has his own reasons for fighting in the Worldwound, Loric's masters occasionally assign him missions, as well — mostly to seek out and return various artifacts, insights, and lore linked to their god. While these assignments certainly help the crusade, they're also meant to increase the prominence of their faith back to the heights it once knew.

6) Loric wears stylish, dark gray, studded leather armor provided by the church, overlaid by a black tabard with gold trim depicting a downward-pointed longsword on his chest and a single, four-pointed star to its left. His weapons include a double-edge shortsword, dagger, and shortbow with a full quiver of arrows. He's tall and agile with sharp muscle definition honed through combat and rigorous exercise. His hair is dark and shoulder-length, but his face remains clean-shaven. At the age of 19, he stands 5-feet, 11-inches tall and weighs 170 lbs.

Step 2: Three Goals for Loric to Achieve

1) Loric’s association with Aroden's church puts him at odds with some crusaders. Those who honor his faith's history of combating demon cults openly accept his involvement, while others view his presence among them with curiosity and distrust — believing his faith should have turned to the Iomedae when she welcomed his clergy into her fold. No one feels this more strongly than Loric’s own brother and their differing opinions have led to no small amount of arguments and tension between them. I've left the identity of Loric's brother some what vague, as I think the conflict there could achieve maximum impact if it were another player. If you wish, I could flesh this out better.

2) Part of Loric’s charge as a sanctified rogue for his sect of the Aroden's church should involve secret assignments, meetings, and messages outside the normal chain of command. While these activities mostly focus on feeding information back to his superiors, there’s also an element of spying on his fellow crusaders and carrying out tasks which the more pious paladins and inquisitors might otherwise consider forbidden. Though this role puts him at odds with some of his fellow companions, he always believes the ends justify the means, and he serves his distant masters with the same unquestioned zeal as a devout paladin.

3) Aside from the normal tasks of a crusader, Loric’s priesthood may also assign him tasks to retrieve ancient relics and divine magic associated with the Aroden. These items could help the crusade, but might also shore up his temple's declining influence in the absence of their deceased god.

Step 3: Two Secrets for Loric, One He Knows and One He Does Not

1) While participating in the intrigues of Taldor's capital, Oppara, Loric was set upon by a masked assassin. A struggle ensued, and the attacker was thrown down a set of stairs. Removing the dead man's mask, Loric was horrified to see that it had been a former friend of his. He covered up the death and renounced political life, seeking the duty of the church as a useful avenue for his talents.

2) Loric's failure to be selected by the templars was not entirely his doing. His father, ever favoring his elder brother and resenting Loric's less honorable path, pulled strings to ensure that Loric would never join the prestigious order.

Step 4: Three People Loric has Relationships With

1) His Brother - Loric and his brother grew up close, always thinking that they would be serving together as templars. That bond has been tested, and strained, in a number of ways since then, but they remain blood. It would take much for Loric to turn on his brother.

2) Mather Kendall, his handler - A cleric of the Last Azlanti, Mather is Loric's connection to the rest of the church in the outside world. Although Kendall looks out for Loric as best he can, he sometimes loses sight of Loric's safety when it comes to missions of importance within the church.

3) Shepherd Adlem, rogue mage - A relatively inexperienced mage once loyal to the Crusade. The demonic corruption of his lover drove the young man to recklessly search for magic capable of curing her. To this end, he taps into forbidden magic and often steals and damages the magical research of other mages. So far, he has managed to elude Loric with a surprising amount of luck.

Step 5: Three Memories, Mannerisms, or Quirks Unique to Loric

1) Loric has a quiet, focused demeanor about him, as if judging those around him while calculating his odds and next steps for engaging them (whether verbally or in battle). He's a man of action and his poised body posture belies that to anyone with the good judgment to notice.

2) He takes an active interest in circumstances others may miss, ever watchful for demonic aggression as well as corruption and betrayal from within the crusader ranks. Studious and always prepared, he prides himself on making a difference in ways others can't, working outside the chain of command, if necessary, and asking forgiveness later.

3) Despite this, his formerly rakish nature sometimes shines through, particularly with a love for the finer things in life: comfort, food & drink, and most of all, women.

His brother wouldn't let him walk away easily. The knight reached out and caught him by the wrist. "What are you doing here, Loric. This is no place for your games."

Loric spun around and tore his hand from his brother's grasp. "I didn't come here to die, brother. I'm not here to throw away my life on some foolhardy charge into the teeth and claws of the horde just to look good in the eyes of the church."

Stepping forward, Loric pokes his brother right in the breastplate, finger stabbing into the emblem of the templar order. "There's more than one way to win this war. If I've learned anything, fate rewards ingenuity. The templars didn't think I have what it takes, so I found somebody who did."

Loric backs off, his eyes softening. "The noble always begin a fight with pure heart and clear purpose. This war though... it changes people. Warps them into a mockery of their true intent. I'm here to try and stop that."

Loric will multi-class with fighter, pursuing a two-handed fighting style. He will either fill into the Trickster or Champion path, whichever seems best for the group.

The tall, lanky dwarf was eating a large sandwich during the briefing. It's pungent aroma confirmed that it was laced with Varisian spices, and the sandwich was quite quite greasy, so it was wrapped in a husk of corn. As the briefing is concluded, he finishes eating his sandwich and licks his fingers. Somehow his beard is still untouched by sandwich fixings.

His hands were calloused and he wore a bowguard for his left wrist that was well scratched. He has an assortment of arrows of many different make--the gleam of alchemical silver is noticeable on a few points. The bow is a fine composite bow with the initials of the bowyer carved in the front.

He smiles and his face lights up briefly. "My last two missions were fancy, smancy diplomatic missions. Finally, one better suited to my skills. I'll take those.."

Jory grabs the arrows and then his piercing stare moves over you, and his facial expression seems to change between scowl and smirk.

He nods to Leodric: "I like your attitude. But the big man has a point. I would shelter behind him IF I needed cover and do it gladly."

"Now, I walk in front. I am a scout and a skirmisher. If things get nasty, I hope the heavies move up to cover me. I notice traps, but I don't remove them. I don't need anyone noisy spoiling it."

Jory hands a wand to Gaius. "I'll tell you when I need it. Feel free to use the armor of mages yourself."

He holds up another wand. "This is my healing wand. I'm not stingy with it either. Especially since I can't make it work." He hands it to Garret. "Don't lose it. I knew a hobbit that lost valuable things until I shook him. It made me unhappy."

stat array:

Character sheet has his first level build, but the stats rolled will replace the stats on sheet
STR=21; INT=12; WIS=24; CON=21; DEX=18; CHA=7

backstory:

See character sheet, but planned addition. Bimbur appears at the festival of Kanabres by request of his old friend, and mentor.

planned path progression:

Champion and maybe dual to trickster if no trickster in party