GM Birch's Rise of the Runelords

Game Master Birch33

I wanted to start with an apology. You see I'm about to rant endlessly. A recent PbP recruitment process inspired this outpouring. What follows is not so much a set of rules to apply for a position by – as a necessary sharing of thoughts and emotions.

My 'other' job is in HR and I get tired of the number of times I have to tell prospective job hunters the cardinal sin they commit when they send out their standard cv/resume. Yes it's quick to email/upload - and that allows you to apply for 20 jobs an hour – but as a recipient of such a document, I know it's your standard, unmodified, unthought-of resume.

Some organisations won't accept standard resumes. They insist on you filling out application forms and make you write answers to questions – the sort of questions that make you think. Questions that start with why or how. Why? Because it puts off people who just want to send you their uploaded resume. The people that can be bothered to spend an hour (and then some) filling out that form really want to work for you.

Where am I going with this? The recent recruitment process I went through put me in mind of that sort of job-hunting. It's easy to plug in HeroLab and cut and paste some crunch. It's even easier to present 'one I made earlier but can tweak if I'm accepted.'

The process made me think long and hard about the character I was creating. I started with an idea and I worked on it and worked on it until I had something substantial. I cared about the character - enough to be devastated if she didn't make the cut.

As a player, it has historically taken me a while to get into character in PbP as I need to think through motive, character and personality past the two or three bullet-points I had in mind initially. This time round, I already knew what this character would say in any given situation. Sure she'll change - I expect her to have a story-arc through the levels - but circumstance will alter her, not me changing my mind about her personality. And the GM knows who she is too – and can plan accordingly.

I can understand if you think this process seems a little detailed and long-winded but it's not supposed to be scary. Instead it is my way of letting you know what sort of game you will be getting into – and I’m hoping that players who get what I’m trying to achieve here won’t be put off. What I hope comes across is my love of fluff and aversion to crunch. If you desire a rules-heavy GM, I'm not your guy. I want to tell a story first and foremost. I also like a fast-paced game with lots of posts and banter.

Example: I'm flexible about the use of skills. In a game I’ve played in, the GM said only knowledge arcana can yield any information about the creature we'd seen. If I were the GM, I'd be looser. Perhaps the character came across one in a dungeon crawl one day? Get a good roll and it can be the case. Or perhaps this area is plagued with them. Knowledge local then. You see I don't ignore the dice but I don't let them rule the game. That doesn’t make me right and the other GM wrong by the way – we’re just different. Which is my way of saying, if you like crunch-based/rules focused role-playing, I’m going to disappoint you.

I'm also English, so if you're offended by the 'correct' spelling of words like colour, grey or armour - you may need to look elsewhere! Rest assured, I'm OK with the trans-Atlantic spelling of words.

For what it's worth, I've GMed on the boards and played for some time now – and if I’m honest, it’s taken me a few years to get into a groove. Unlike face-to-face where you can get the feel for a group in a couple of sessions, I’ve found PbP a slower process. Or perhaps it’s the same in terms of actual hours spent playing?

As I eluded too before, in my opinion the difference between success and failure (well over half the games I've played died out within a month or so) is not just getting good players – it’s getting players that match the style of the GM.

I intend to run Rise of the Runelords. Why? If I had £1 for every time I’ve started this campaign and not got past the opening adventure, I’d have…well about £10. I’m determined to see it through all of the chapters and levels – and I’m in more control as a GM than a player.

There are a few tweaks, some of which you need to know up front. Firstly you will all start outside Sandpoint and be on a caravan bound for the town. This ensures you all know each other before the ‘game’ starts. It also ought to ensure you play nicely with each other. There’s no point having great role-playing if we have characters whose philosophies are opposed to each other. I played a paladin in a game – and played it right – but I was a pain to one of the other characters who wanted to shoot first and ask questions later. Then the group had to take sides and it slowed the game down rather than adding to the experience.

I’ve put a link in the Campaign Info tab with lots of information about Sandpoint – more than the Player’s Guide has – but I’d recommend you download a free copy of that too for yourselves as it has the campaign traits in it.

I'm a story driven GM and will always ensure that the fluff of a character is what drives me to recruit them. And, in my experience, a lack of effort in recruitment leads to a lack of effort in the game. I tried this very recently to backfill a position in an ongoing game and it a) reduced the number of people applied and b) substantially improved the quality of the application.

I'm looking for strong role-playing, so pick your class wisely. Paladins that shoot first and ask questions later or rangers that care nothing for killing animals are not (in my opinion) in character.

So where’s the crunch? The truth is I want you to know about the stat rules before you commit any time to the process but I don’t want to see any stats yet. Once I agree to a character, then we can look at the crunch. But I accept you’ll need to know some of the mechanics rules before you can work on your character.

Character Build:

25-point buy
1st Level
Max starting gold
Max starting HP, thereafter average (max HP/2 rounded up)
Races – Core Rulebook only (I’m an old-fashioned GM that way – plus non-core races are often chosen because they’re a sneaky way of min-maxing)
Classes – Core Rulebook, Advanced Player’s Guide only (archetypes are allowed)
Magic - Magical items are rare and GM approval needed to purchase
Weapons - No firearms
Feats - Two (one Campaign)
Alignment - No evil characters

So what do I want?

I’ll start with some don’ts

Don’t:
- Create a character that strikes me as purposefully min/maxed – it will likely get passed over
- Worry about who else you know on the caravan at this point (that can come once the characters are chosen and before we start the game)

And now what you should do:

Do:
- Create a profile/alias and include relevant information inside
- Provide a physical description
- Describe the character’s personality
- Describe the character’s background
- Tell me why the character is on a caravan on its way to Sandpoint (I’ll mention again that my link is extermely useful as is the player’s guide - which is a free download from the Paizo site if you need inspiration)
- Spend time telling me about your character’s backstory – why do you have those skills and languages and why are you that class?
- Tell me about your character's overarching aim in life. This will help with selecting appropriate encounters (or treasure). You may not want other players knowing what it is – so you can PM me if you wish. An overarching aim is to be knighted, marry a handsome prince , create the ultimate spell-book or discover the Sword of Gryffindor – rather than to simply get rich or be a specific advanced class. Basically, what plot hook would have you forget any common sense and rush out to fight a dragon single-handed?

The extra mile

Thanks to GM Beazy for this one…
Write a story or compose a ballad about your character. This is your chance to impress me that you really want a spot in this adventure. It’s not absolutely necessary but it does show you really want to be part of this game. Plus it adds to the character’s background.

I'll be honest with you in terms of character submission and will post that feedback on the boards (hidden only by a spoiler) - so shy, retiring types might think twice. I am honest and fair with my feedback I believe and only want to maximise your chance of getting a spot in the game.

I’m likely to start with too many players as people dropping out is always possible and it's easier to manage attrition this way than stop and recruit every time we fall below the set amount. So up to seven may end up the number we begin with. Regardless it would be x different classes as I don't want two rogues fighting over every trap. And I have a rogue waiting in the wings - so my advice (if you choose to take it) is not to submit a rogue.

I would expect at least a daily input but the pace of the group is key. If the majority of the players are posting more regularly, it can be really frustrating to have to wait 24 hours to continue - especially in combat. And posts in combat don't have to be verbose. A few lines will do if that's all that's needed.

I do prefer longer posts in general (but please don’t hog all of the limelight)

One of the slowest parts of play-by-post is combat. I intend to run as much as possible from my iPhone and iPad and so will always simplify combat i.e. describe the situation and ask for your response. This will mean no alpha-numeric maps to determine who can see or reach whom, and no waiting for the person with the highest initiative to decide what to do before you can decide your move (although actions will always follow initiative order).

Rules:

1. I have no firm house-rules at present (but reserve the right to change that later ; p)
2. It would be helpful to have a volunteer rules-guy as one of the party - I love GMing but would appreciate someone who loves the crunch helping out in the Discussion thread concerning rules matters.
3. Speech in” bold” and thoughts in’ italics’ please.
4. I won't be tracking XP, but instead will level up as and when it's appropriate for the encounters. The published modules are explicit of the appropriate level and I'm not going to throw in random encounters to get you there - rather I'll amend the adventures to make sure you have enough 'experience.' For me it’s a story, not a board game.

Applications:

So, you've made it this far down the post, and I presume you're still interested. My aim is to close applications when I have the right players. Recruitment will stay open for at least a week and I’ll give 48 hours notice when I think I’m close to finalising the group.

In my experience, people who create outstanding applications don't always post frequently or well – so I’ll be looking at posting frequency and interaction with other applicants as part of the process.. How often you post here (and add value) will be a factor in choosing the final party. As will how often you post elsewhere (I will have a look to see what is your style and frequency).

It is therefore useful to let me know if you are an existing player on the boards, which alias best reflects your playing style.

Now, what do I need on this thread? Dotting for interest is OK. Otherwise please use the Discussion thread for questions (the ability to follow directions is another factor in selection!). Post here with your character concept.

Delgata is Varisian by birth and proud of his heritage. He is tall for his clan and has the traditional olive skin and dark black hair; he also enjoys dressing in the traditional bright colors of his nomadic people. Delgata is quick on his feet, with his fingers, and with his lip; he can spin a yarn so believable it has saved his skin many times in the past. He grew up in a very superstitious family, his bedtime stories at night consisted of werewolves, ghosts, undead, vampires, swamp monsters, and demons; these stories did what they were meant to do teach him a lesson and keep him in his sleeping mat. He is an affiliate of the Sczarni organization, as are all of the members of his clan. His impulsive nature has gotten him into much trouble running errands for the group, but again with his "gift of gab" he has been able to coax the truth and talk his way out of the bind.

It was when his clan traveled to Magnimar to trade that he decided to part ways for a short time. This was common for members of his tribe, go out and experience the world then return when their spirit was lighter and full of stories to tell. Maleva his aunt, a sooth-sayer of note had warned him of his future and told him to not leave the safety of the clan. Delgata's mind made up, he waved goodbye to his clan as they drove away, they waved back with troubled brows hearing Maleva's predictions. He walked into the large city-state with awe seeing the sites he had only heard about. Delgata quickly found a cheap inn to live at, spent his days wondering the city, taking what he could take, and made some questionable friends. Life was good and Delgata was happy, to this point he had always been conservative with his stay in the city because of Maleva's looming fortune telling. Having shed the fear of his ill predicted fortune he was able to be talked into breaking into a manor by his questionable friends. It was quite easy, no problems with the entry, no problems avoiding the window trap, and no problems opening the safe full of gold on the top floor. The problem came with the mage. The red robed figure entered the room and exchanged looks with the pack of house breakers that could only be described as having a near frozen bucket of water from the horse troft thrown in your face while you were sitting on the privy. What happened next happened quickly, the mage cast a spell and they were surrounded in spider webs, they were caught, then the mage cast again and Delgata fell to a deep sleep. He woke naked chained to his questionable friends in a basement. The mage was there with a robed figure, they were laughing. They came and took one of the questionable friends and brought him into another room, cast spells on him, the screaming was epic. Full of fear and knowing that his gift of gab would fall on deaf ears Delgata worked on the chains. He was able to slip his bonds, but try as he could he was not able to help his other friend. He was able to find a piece of wood suitable for a club in the basement area and he held it incase. When the screaming stopped he looked at his friend. Telling him he was leaving and he was sorry Delgata beat his friend to death so he would not have to suffer a long torturous demise. He ran from the basement, grabbed a few valuables on the way out as well as a window curtain to wrap himself in. He never looked back as he charged out into the street and the haven that was his cheap inn. He made some really good coin from selling the odds and ends that he lifted in the panicked flight. His heart full of grief Delgata decided to leave this city, for a time, and find new things on the open road. He thinks often of the friends that died in the mages cellar and secretly vows to return one day to make the mage scream in pain as he heard his friend scream.

After he left Magnimar he walked the road for some time and was able to find a wagon of travelers that were good company. This made his spirit soar again and has continued to travel with them enjoying their most pleasant company.

This is a solid submission. I get a feel for his physical appearance and this is very strong. In terms of personality, I get the joke-telling and the honour (plus the love of animals) but that's all.

His background reinforces the druid aspect but although I've read it through twice now, this is all that sticks with me.

As I say, it's not a bad submission - but I suspect you have lots of mechanics in mind and weaving those into your back-story would add so much more depth to the character. Plus I would develop the personality to have more depth. Again, weaving it into a back-story e.g. describe an event and how the character reacted (and if this reinforced how Kaddok behaves or if it changed him). In writing it's called 'show don't tell.'

Feel free to ignore my feedback or work on the character. It's a great start and I know it can be developed into a more three-dimensional character.

A really interesting story - that had me wondering where it was going to go.

I have a picture of Delgata in my mind as his description is strong and the event that has him en route to Sandpoint. His earlier life is a bit of a blur and I have no idea what sort of character he is. He doesn't seem martial or arcane. I suspect he's a bard but it doesn't come through strongly. What I mean is, when I see the crunch I don't know what I might see. High charisma maybe? The crunch should reinforce the fluff, not reveal information I had no idea about.

Also the decision to break-in came out of nowhere and I'm not sure what it says about his personality.

Again, I loved the story and know it could have yielded so much more information about the character. How did it change him? Did it change him?

As ever with these things, feel free to ignore my input - it's your character after all, I'm just suggesting things that would allow me to better understand Delgata and see how he might fit into this story.

It was the first frost of the oncoming winter and Delgata was born after the waking crows of a rooster. Maleva his aunt and know fortune-teller said this was a good sign and after seeing the child predicted that the babe was destined for greatness. His mother had several children before him and would have more after him, but she always considered him the “gift she gave to the world”, this caused much sibling rivalry and many bruises in the Pesur household. Delgata was a rambunctious youth, always getting into trouble and acting on a whim; be it stealing extra bread from the table or convincing other children to do tasks that made him giggle. Even after only five winters of youth he was always able to talk his way out of trouble with grandiose stories that were so convincing they were hard to doubt. His mother has many a story of her son; the time he convinced all the clan’s kids to swim in the mud, or little Fewdil eating the bucket of caught toads, and the time he talked the older kids into taking the wheels off of Sakent’s wagon during the night before they broke camp. His antics never hurt anyone they were always in good fun. The clan had come to know Delgata as having what they called “the gift of gab”, seeing how he could talk just about anyone into believing his stories. He grew up in a very superstitious family, his bedtime stories at night consisted of werewolves, ghosts, undead, vampires, swamp monsters, and demons; these stories did what they were meant to do teach him a lesson and keep him on his sleeping mat with the covers pulled up tight. These stories stayed with him as he grew and is one of the few things that will stop his impulsive behaviors; don’t run into the woods at night alone the werewolves will get you, don’t swim too far in the lake the lake monster will get you, be nice to your mother or her ghost will haunt you from the grave, all valuable life lessons.

Like most youth of the clan he was taught the way of life, and skills of the trade. He was a natural at these skills, sneaking, pocket picking, opening locks, climbing, and even casting some magics from Maleva’s scrolls. He wished he could cast the magics like his aunt, even with her guidance and tutoring, but as much as he tried it never succeeded. At a young age he was taught how to use a dagger to help defend the wagon caravan and “special” spots to strike. Yopip, a know scoundrel of the caravan, took him under his wing and taught Delgata more “advanced” techniques. Traps were Yopip’s specialty and he tutored Delgata on the precision of disabling them. After he had succeeded in disarming a variety of practice traps Yopip and Delgata went on a field training exercise after the caravan parked outside a large town. Delgata led the cat-burglary under the watchful eye of his teacher. Disarming small traps, avoiding others, he was able to rob the mayor of the town’s house with ease. This new way of life was fun, and every time the caravan camped he would go through the towns finding one nice house to exploit his skill.

Delgata grew with the years, becoming one of the taller members of his clan. He took to wearing his dark hair long and pulled back to show off good looks and bright colored clothing that made his olive skin seem to look livelier. He was a nightmare to every farmer that had a daughter of age. He became more involved with the Sczarni organization as he became older as many of his clan do. With his age he never shed the impulsive nature of his youth and continuously found himself in trouble doing a Sczarni errand, but again with his "gift of gab" he has been able to coax the truth and talk his way out of the bind.
It was when his clan traveled to Magnimar to trade that he decided to part ways for a short time. This was common for members of his clan, go out and experience the world then return when their spirit was lighter and full of stories to tell. Maleva his aunt had warned him of his future and told him to not leave the safety of the clan. Delgata's mind made up, he waved goodbye to his clan as they drove away, they waved back with troubled brows hearing Maleva's predictions. He walked into the large city-state with awe seeing the sites he had only heard about. Delgata quickly found a cheap inn to live at, spent his days wondering the city, taking what he could take, and made some questionable friends Wendel and Gus. Wendel, Gus, and Del (as they began to call him) would spend much time in the inns and brothels generally having a good time. He had made strange friends and they seemed very eager to hear of his youth. Wendel and Gus often tried to convince Del to let them “assist” with taking a house, but Del always treaded softly on the subject because of Maleva's looming fortune telling. Having shed the fear of his ill predicted fortune with weeks of good luck he was able to be talked into breaking into a manor by Wendel. It was quite easy just as Yopip had taught him, no problems with the entry, no problems avoiding the window trap, and no problems opening the safe full of gold on the top floor. The problem came with the mage. The red robed figure entered the room and exchanged looks with the pack of house breakers that could only be described as having a near frozen bucket of water from the horse troft thrown in your face while you were sitting on the privy. What happened next happened quickly, Delgata ran for the window, Wendel and Gus charged the mage but were too slow, the mage cast a spell and they were surrounded in spider webs, they were caught. Then the mage cast again before Delgata could get all the way out of the window he fell to a deep sleep. He woke naked chained to Wendel and Gus in a basement. The mage was there with a robed figure, they were laughing. They came and took Wendel bringing him into another room, cast spells on him, the screaming was epic. Full of fear and knowing that his gift of gab would fall on deaf ears Delgata worked on the chains. It was painful, he dislocated his thumb but found himself free. Try as he could he was not able to help his other friend. He was able to find a piece of wood suitable for a club in the basement area he kept looking but could find nothing else of use to aid Gus. When the screaming stopped he looked at his friend. Telling him he was leaving and he was sorry Delgata beat Gus to death so he would not have to suffer a long torturous demise. He ran from the basement, grabbed a few valuables on the way out as well as a window curtain to wrap himself in. He never looked back as he charged out into the street and toward the haven that was his cheap inn.
He made some really good coin from selling the odds and ends that he lifted in the panicked flight. Every night as he tried to sleep a raven would tap on the shuttered window of his room it would return after it was waved away and tap all night not letting Delgata rest. When he left in the mornings to make a living the raven would follow him. After several days of this the raven landed on his shoulder and bit his earlobe. It was evident the raven wanted his attention and being very superstitious Delgata did not strike the bird but followed it as it flew off. It led him back to his cheap inn and waited at the shuttered window to be let in tapping. The black bird landed on his backpack trying to place items in it with its beak, it started to pack for Delgata. With his heart still full of grief from the death of his friends he decided to leave this city, for a time, follow this strange bird, and hopefully find new things on the open road. He thinks often of the friends that died in the mages cellar and secretly vows to return one day to make the mage scream in pain as he heard his friend scream.
After he left Magnimar he followed the bird for some time it often sat on his shoulder and became his traveling friend. As he began to spend more time with the bird he noticed it reminded him of Gus, he could see it in the bird’s eyes. He bird led him to a group of people on the open road heading to Sandpoint. He quickly made friends with these new people, and noticed the raven Gus was gone. Delgata takes it as a sign that he is meant to be here for a reason yet to be revealed.

It was the first frost of the oncoming winter and Delgata was born after the waking crows of a rooster. Maleva his aunt and know fortune-teller said this was a good sign and after seeing the child predicted that the babe was destined for greatness. His mother had several children before him and would have more after him, but she always considered him the “gift she gave to the world”, this caused much sibling rivalry and many bruises in the Pesur household. Delgata was a rambunctious youth, always getting into trouble and acting on a whim; be it stealing extra bread from the table or convincing other children to do tasks that made him giggle. Even after only five winters of youth he was always able to talk his way out of trouble with grandiose stories that were so convincing they were hard to doubt. His mother has many a story of her son; the time he convinced all the clan’s kids to swim in the mud, or little Fewdil eating the bucket of caught toads, and the time he talked the older kids into taking the wheels off of Sakent’s wagon during the night before they broke camp. His antics never hurt anyone they were always in good fun. The clan had come to know Delgata as having what they called “the gift of gab”, seeing how he could talk just about anyone into believing his stories. He grew up in a very superstitious family, his bedtime stories at night consisted of werewolves, ghosts, undead, vampires, swamp monsters, and demons; these stories did what they were meant to do teach him a lesson and keep him on his sleeping mat with the covers pulled up tight. These stories stayed with him as he grew and is one of the few things that will stop his impulsive behaviors; don’t run into the woods at night alone the werewolves will get you, don’t swim too far in the lake the lake monster will get you, be nice to your mother or her ghost will haunt you from the grave, all valuable life lessons.
Like most youth of the clan he was taught the way of life, the languages of the land, and skills of the trade. He was a natural at these skills, sneaking, pocket picking, opening locks, climbing, and even casting some magics from Maleva’s scrolls. He wished he could cast the magics like his aunt, even with her guidance and tutoring, but as much as he tried it never succeeded. At a young age he was taught how to use a dagger to help defend the wagon caravan and “special” spots to strike. Yopip, a know scoundrel of the caravan, took him under his wing and taught Delgata more “advanced” techniques. Traps were Yopip’s specialty and he tutored Delgata on the precision of disabling them. He also explained the value of gold, something his clan greatly undervalued. His lessons turned to identifying the most precious and valuable objects to be sold when he could enter a city. After he had succeeded in disarming a variety of practice traps Yopip and Delgata went on a field training exercise after the caravan parked outside a large town. Delgata led the cat-burglary under the watchful eye of his teacher. Disarming small traps, avoiding others, he was able to rob the mayor of the town’s house with ease. This new way of life was fun, and every time the caravan camped he would go through the towns finding one nice house to exploit his skill.
Delgata grew with the years, becoming one of the taller members of his clan. He took to wearing his dark hair long and pulled back to show off good looks and bright colored clothing that made his olive skin seem to look livelier. He was a nightmare to every farmer that had a daughter of age. He became more involved with the Sczarni organization as he became older as many of his clan do. With his age he never shed the impulsive nature of his youth and continuously found himself in trouble doing a Sczarni errand, but again with his "gift of gab" he has been able to coax the truth and talk his way out of the bind. He enjoyed the open ear that the Sczarni’s kept, if he needed to know information they always seemed to have an answer or knew somebody that did.
It was when his clan traveled to Magnimar to trade that he decided to part ways for a short time. This was common for members of his clan, go out and experience the world then return when their spirit was lighter and full of stories to tell. Maleva his aunt had warned him of his future and told him to not leave the safety of the clan. Delgata's mind made up, he waved goodbye to his clan as they drove away, they waved back with troubled brows hearing Maleva's predictions. He walked into the large city-state with awe seeing the sites he had only heard about. Delgata quickly found a cheap inn to live at, spent his days wondering the city, taking what he could take, and made some questionable friends Wendel and Gus. Wendel, Gus, and Del (as they began to call him) would spend much time in the inns and brothels generally having a good time. He had made strange friends and they seemed very eager to hear of his youth. Wendel and Gus often tried to convince Del to let them “assist” with taking a house, but Del always treaded softly on the subject because of Maleva's looming fortune telling. Having shed the fear of his ill predicted fortune with weeks of good luck he was able to be talked into breaking into a manor by Wendel. It was quite easy just as Yopip had taught him, no problems with the entry, no problems avoiding the window trap, and no problems opening the safe full of gold on the top floor. The problem came with the mage. The red robed figure entered the room and exchanged looks with the pack of house breakers that could only be described as having a near frozen bucket of water from the horse troft thrown in your face while you were sitting on the privy. What happened next happened quickly, Delgata ran for the window, Wendel and Gus charged the mage but were too slow, the mage cast a spell and they were surrounded in spider webs, they were caught. Then the mage cast again before Delgata could get all the way out of the window he fell to a deep sleep. He woke naked chained to Wendel and Gus in a basement. The mage was there with a robed figure, they were laughing. They came and took Wendel bringing him into another room, cast spells on him, the screaming was epic. Full of fear and knowing that his gift of gab would fall on deaf ears Delgata worked on the chains. It was painful, he dislocated his thumb but found himself free. Try as he could he was not able to help his other friend. He was able to find a piece of wood suitable for a club in the basement area he kept looking but could find nothing else of use to aid Gus. When the screaming stopped he looked at his friend. Telling him he was leaving and he was sorry Delgata beat Gus to death so he would not have to suffer a long torturous demise. He ran from the basement, grabbed a few valuables on the way out as well as a window curtain to wrap himself in. He never looked back as he charged out into the street and toward the haven that was his cheap inn.

He made some really good coin from selling the odds and ends that he lifted in the panicked flight. Every night after the incident with the mage as he tried to sleep a raven would tap on the shuttered window of his room, returning after it was waved away and tap all night not letting Delgata rest. He had heard the rumors of the ravens of Magnimar and the mystic powers they keep he was afraid to harm the bird. When he left in the mornings to make a living the raven would follow him through the crowded streets and harass him as he attempted to lighten a mark’s purse. After several days of harassment the raven landed on his shoulder and bit his earlobe. It was evident this raven wanted his attention and being very superstitious Delgata knew he could no longer ignore the bird and followed it as it flew off. It led him back to his cheap inn and waited at the shuttered window to be let in tapping. The black bird flew in the window when opened landing on his backpack trying to place items in it with its beak, it started to pack for Delgata. With his heart still full of grief from the death of his friends he decided to leave this city, for a time, follow this strange bird, and hopefully find new things on the open road. He thinks often of the friends that died in the mages cellar and secretly vows to return one day to make the mage scream in pain as he heard his friend scream.

After he left Magnimar he followed the bird for some time it often sat on his shoulder and became his traveling friend. As he began to spend more time with the bird he noticed it reminded him of Gus, he could see it in the bird’s eyes. It even answered to the name Gus which was very off putting. The bird led him far down traveled paths eventually to a group of people on the open road heading to Sandpoint. Delgata quickly made friends with this new people, and noticed the raven Gus was gone. Delgata takes it as a sign that he is meant to be here for a reason yet to be revealed and that Gus is watching over him indebted for releasing his spirit quick and painlessly.

Watching is mother die of the slow wasting disease, Galen made a vow. He would make them pay. With the faith of the Inheritor on his side, the bastards that reduced his family from the nobility to the poorhouse and made it so his once beautiful mother wasted away before him – those bastards would pay and pay dearly.

House Zanderholm, once on of the leading noble houses of Cheliax had stayed faithful to Aroden and Iomedae the Inheritor in the brutal civil wars following the Fall of Aroden. In the ensuing chaos, House Thrune with their diabolical allies and beliefs had gained ascendancy in Cheliax. Those loyal few nobles who stood up to them had been jailed or disowned or forced to flee the country.

Galen’s grandfather, Lucien Zanderholm, had been a stalwart of the opposition. With their faith backing them, the Lord Zanderholm had fought against the spread of devils and House Thrune, but he was overcome and imprisoned and eventually executed. The Zanderholm lands were divided among the victors and the family, led by the matriarch Juliana, fled to the relative safety of Korvosa on the edge of the empire.

Even then, they weren't safe. Still pursued by the powers of Cheliax and their Korvosan allies, the family was driven into farther exile in the wilds of Varisia. Juliana’s only son Tristan, Galen’s father, came of age as a refugee in a far land. Vowing revenge himself, tried to raise an army of loyalists, but they were soundly defeated and Tristan was broken. He married a Varisian girl, Mathilde, and they tried to settle into a pastoral farming life, but the feeling of vengeance still burned, even after Galen and his twin sister Kara were born.

On his way to market in Korvosa with little Kara by his side, Tristan was accosted by Hellknights of the Order of the Nail. Enraged by their treatment of an elderly Shoanti peddler he fought against them, and was cut down. Little Kara was taken by the Hellknights and her whereabouts are unknown. Not long after, the Order of the Nail patrol came to the farm and razed it, sending Galen and Mathilde on the road as refugees again.

They moved on to Magnimar, where she got work as a washerwoman and chamber maid, a far cry from the aristocratic lifestyle they might have enjoyed. Galen was schooled in the temple of Iomedae and raised to follow the path of the Inheritor and in the chivalrous code and manners of the old Chelish nobility, thinking that he would join the priesthood when he came of age, he knew little of his family's history.

When the sweeping pox came to their village, Mathilde was sickened and unable to work. Not having enough money to buy a cure from the Bank of Abadar and refusing to sell Galen's birthright to obtain it, her condition worsened.

On her deathbed, she showed Galen his father (and grandfather’s) signet ring, a rampant lion with a ruby inset, and told him the story of his rightful place at the head of House Zanderholm. His grandfather’s longsword and chain shirt, kept safe for 40 years, were also given to him at that time.

Tearfully watching his mother pass, he dedicated himself, as his father had, to regaining his family’s historical lands, and returning Cheliax to the path of Righteousness. Training every day with the family’s sword and immeresed in the temple of Iomedae, his skill and faith are just growing. Knowing he needs more renown and wealth to raise an army, he decides to take the first step, and hires himself out as a man at arms for a caravan headed to a little known Varisian town, Sandpoint. On the way, he is already working the other members towards his faith and his cause, the overthrow of Cheliax.

Physical Appearance
Long blond hear tied back from his face, the beginnings of a blond beard, broad shouldered and handsome, Galen looks the part of a young paladin. He wears his grandfather’s sword, Devil’s Bane, and is very pious , following the path of the Inheritor in all things. He is physically imposing and a natural born leader.

Wow, what a difference. The character is so much more rounded than before. The rogue comes through and his 'gift of the gab' too. You've thrown skills in as part of the story and that works really well. I see there is crunch done too.

Overall I like it very much. As mentioned before, rogue is the spot that I advised people to keep away from. I see me having to run two campaigns, if only to accommodate the both of you.

Thanks for the effort you've undoubtedly put in.

I hope like me you see how much more I know of the character from what you've added. I know how he treats people (especially orcs) and I know his fighting style and broadly how he would react in certain situations.

Would you like to add the crunch?

I'm impressed immediately. The background is strong and I get a flavour of his character. Like most first drafts, it is a lot of show and not tell. I'd rather hear a story that demonstrates his stealth rather than be told about it. Why? Because in writing it, not only do you cement it in my mind, but it becomes easier to role- play it. These stories - as you fine tune and re-read them, make a character stronger and more of a person and less of a set of dice rolls. One thing I didn't pick up was his class. A fighter, a ranger? I'm not saying say one or the other but give me enough hints to work it out for myself. And the same for the other skills or languages he may have. What are they (show don't tell) and how did he come by them?

Again, I'd love you to expand on Wilthorn if I haven't offended you too much.

I scrolled past the crunch, to ensure I didn't see any stats that would lead me to read into the story what wasn't there. I needn't have worried. The story is the strongest I've read so far (Miro's when you see it will run it close). I totally get Kalig, where she's from, what she looks like and how she'll react to situations.

Feedback? It's hard. My one thought is to better understand how she'll integrate into a group when she's so distrustful. Not a big issue, but worth you thinking through.

I'd ask you to do the crunch but you've already done it. My final words for now are for you to give it at least 24 hours and re-read what you've done. I suspect you'll think of new things to add. Oddly, the more you've written, the easier it is to develop. With oly a few bullet-points, it's actually harder.

I'm impressed - genuinely. Thanks do much for taking the time to put this together.

A really, really strong opening. I got Merwyn straight away and the story of her exile was powerful. If I'm honest, the start was better than the ending. You told me so much through the opening story, the telling at the end was a little disappointing. I'd much rather some more of a background story that showed me howw she was reckless for example. And like many of the submissions, other than magic, I didn't get a feel for other skills coming through the story.

I absolutely want to read more about Merwyn and I'd be delighted if you do me th honour of expanding on what you've submitted so far.

Thanks.

Similar to my feedback to someone else, it was a really strong opening that petered out at the end. The story of his birthright and how he came to be in the temple was really powerful. Now I want to know who trained him, where his strengths are (show don't tell) and more of his personality. Why Iomedae? What facets of his character does this faith (or god) mirror?

I really love the start and would love for you to give me more.

You already know my broad thoughts. I'll come up with a name for Silver Eyes very soon. You need to have him heading for Sandpoint and over the course of the campaign learn to have a desire bigger than revenge, or he'd stop once Silver Eyes is defeated.

Watching is mother die of the slow wasting disease, Galen made a vow. He would make them pay. With the faith of the Inheritor on his side, the bastards that reduced his family from the nobility to the poorhouse and made it so his once beautiful mother wasted away before him – those bastards would pay and pay dearly.

House Zanderholm, once one of the leading noble houses of Cheliax had stayed faithful to Aroden and Iomedae the Inheritor in the brutal civil wars following the Fall of Aroden. In the ensuing chaos, House Thrune with their diabolical allies and beliefs had gained ascendancy in Cheliax. Those loyal few nobles who stood up to them had been jailed or disowned or forced to flee the country. Galen’s grandfather, Lucien Zanderholm, had been a stalwart of the opposition. With their faith backing them, the Lord Zanderholm had fought against the spread of devils and House Thrune, but he was overcome and imprisoned and eventually executed. The Zanderholm lands were divided among the victors and the family, led by the matriarch Juliana, fled to the relative safety of Korvosa on the edge of the empire.

Even then, they weren't safe. Still pursued by the powers of Cheliax and their Korvosan allies, the family was driven into farther exile in the wilds of Varisia. Juliana’s only son Tristan, Galen’s father, came of age as a refugee in a far land. Vowing revenge himself, tried to raise an army of loyalists, but they were soundly defeated and Tristan was broken. He married a Varisian girl, Mathilde, and they tried to settle into a farming life, but the feeling of vengeance still burned, even after Galen and his twin sister Kara were born.

On his way to market in Korvosa with little Kara by his side, Tristan was accosted by Hellknights of the Order of the Nail. Enraged by their treatment of a Shoanti peddler he fought against them, and was cut down. Little Kara was taken by the Hellknights and her whereabouts are unknown. Not long after, the Order of the Nail patrol came to the farm and razed it, sending Galen and Mathilde on the road as refugees again.

They moved on to near Magnimar, where she got work as a washerwoman and chamber maid, a far cry from the aristocratic lifestyle they might have enjoyed. Galen was schooled in the temple of Iomedae and raised to follow the path of the Inheritor, thinking that he would join the priesthood when he came of age. Bereft of a father, Galen became influenced by the priest of the temple, Father Braden and his unswerving belief in right and wrong. He watched as Braden stomped out evil and did not tolerate even neutrality in most situations. Galen, a man is either a friend of Iomedae or an enemy, there is no middle road." This lack of tolerance and vision of black or white, good or evil was very formative for Galen and he carries these qualities into his adulthood. His initial training with the longsword, holy weapon of Iomedae, was by Father Braden, who did not spare the rod if Galen missed a stroke or failed to grip the weapon correctly. This corporeal punishment instilled a great discipline in the lad, but also made him a bit self-critical and he derides himself when he makes mistakes.

He was set to enter the Inheritor’s service as an acolyte to Braden, when a sweeping pox came to their village and Mathilde was sickened and unable to work. Not having enough money to buy a cure from the Bank of Abadar, her condition worsened. The idea that the power to heal her was within his reach, but the lack of money prevented it was very frustrating to Galen. He grew a deep-seated resentment for the soft and decadent wealthy who did not give back or aid their fellows, seeing this as the same as evil. At the same time, he decided to live a life of poverty in addition to being a force for good. Any wealth accumulated would be given or donated to the sick or destitute.

On her deathbed, Mathilde showed Galen his father (and grandfather’s) signet ring and told him the story of his rightful place at the head of House Zanderholm. His grandfather’s longsword and chain mail were also given to him at that time. The honor of bearing these familial heirlooms was worn by Galen as source of pride. He walked erect, and his sense of honor and ego grew with every passing day, just as his skill with the longsword did.

Tearfully watching his mother pass and encouraged by the surrogate father Braden, he dedicated himself, as his father had, to regaining his family’s historical lands, and returning Cheliax to the path of Righteousness. Working every day with the family’s sword, his skill is just growing.

Knowing he needed more renown and wealth to raise an army, he decided to take the first step and hire out as a man at arms for a caravan headed to a little known Varisian town, Sandpoint. On the caravan, he held himself aloof from the rest of the low-born men at arms, which drank, gambled, and whored whenever possible. His quick temper and intolerance have also led him into altercations with a few of the other guardsmen. Galen actually caught one man pilfering food from a merchant’s wagon, and challenged him: ”By the Inheritor’s Bright Blade, man, return those good and repent!” When the man refused, Galen struck him hard with his mailed fist and dragged him to the warden for lock-up. When the warden refused to jail the would-be thief, Galen was aghast, losing his respect for the man’s authority. Has he no honor? Expediency is not what was called for here, but justice firm and swift!’ He is looked askance by the other guards who refer to him as “Your Majesty” or “Your Lordship” sarcastically. “I care not what these fools think of me, they are not worthy of my time; my goal is beyond them,” he thinks to himself.

Galen spends his free time, devoutly studying the Acts of Iomedae, his and his family’s patron deity, polishing his chain armor, or sharpening his grandfather’s blade, Devil’s Bane. He often talks to himself repeating his vow to regain his familial birthright or to quote relevant portions of the Acts, which he has memorized. He searches constantly for companions worthy (like him) to aid him in his sworn vengeance.

Traits and Qualities
Proud and Haughty, Chivalrous, Intolerant, Judgmental, Vengeful, Aloof, Humorless, Duty-bound, Devout, Quick to Anger, Uncompromising, Charitable, Honorable, Vain, Self-Critical, Bound for Glory.

Physical Appearance
Long blond hear tied back from his face, the beginnings of a blond beard, broad shouldered and handsome, Galen looks the part of a young paladin. He wears his grandfather’s sword, Devil’s Bane, and is very pious, following the path of the Inheritor in all things. He is physically imposing and a natural born leader. His countenance is proud and humorless; he does not smile easily, and is not afraid to stare down or challenge another man if serving the cause of Right.

Galen Zanderholm
Male Human (Chelaxian) Paladin (Oath of Vengeance) 1
LG Medium Humanoid (human)
Init +1; Senses Perception +0
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Defense
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AC 17, touch 11, flat-footed 16 (+6 armor, +1 Dex)
hp 12 (1d10+2)
Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +2
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Offense
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Speed 20 ft.
Melee Dagger +4 (1d4+3/19-20/x2) and
Longsword +5 (1d8+3/19-20/x2)
Ranged Longbow +2 (1d8/x3)
Special Attacks smite evil (1/day)
Spell-Like Abilities
At will—Detect Evil (At will)
Paladin (Oath of Vengeance) Spells Prepared (CL 0):
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Statistics
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Str 17, Dex 13, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 16
Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 15
Feats Power Attack -1/+2, Weapon Focus (Longsword)
Traits Child of the Temple (Knowledge [religion]), Friends and Enemies
Skills Acrobatics -4 (-8 jump), Bluff +4, Climb -2, Diplomacy +7, Escape Artist -4, Fly -4, Knowledge (religion) +5, Ride -4, Sense Motive +4, Stealth -4, Swim -2
Languages Common
SQ aura of good, variant channeling (revenge/vengeance variant channeling [±1 sacred])
Other Gear Chainmail, Arrows (20), Dagger, Longbow, Longsword, Backpack (empty), Bedroll, Belt pouch (empty), Flint and steel, Holy symbol, wooden (Iomedae), Holy text (Acts of Iomedae), Mess kit, Paladin's kit, Pot, Rope, Soap, Torch (10), Trail rations (5), Waterskin, Signet Ring, 46 GP
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Special Abilities
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Aura of Good (Ex) The paladin has an Aura of Good with power equal to her class level.
Detect Evil (At will) (Sp) You can use detect evil at will (as the spell).
Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
Revenge/Vengeance Variant Channeling (±1 Sacred) Standard channel/attack penalty
Smite Evil (1/day) (Su) +3 to hit, +1 to damage, +3 deflection bonus to AC when used.

As far as post Silver-Eyes defeat, I'm thinking of establishing a much wider and connected organization than the original one. Essentially a group that acts for the greater good when something needs to be done outside the law. I think a good reason for heading to Sandpoint is that somebody he had connections with in the area that provided him with either supplies or information stopped talking to him suddenly due to recent events there. Miro, generally concerned about the person and not ever getting a message back from there would travel there to see what is going on

Merwyn and the Storm Roc's Nest

The weather was the best in weeks; now was the time to make the climb. Merwyn packed her supplies and began to ascend the highest Wyvern mountain. As she climbed higher and higher, the air became thinner and thinner. The objective of her expedition: to find a mysterious sage that lived at the top of one of the Wyvern mountains, to better understand her dual-identity; the sage was known to help those pure of heart with a single problem. As she neared the peak, the lack of oxygen began to play with her senses and she felt her consciousness dip occasionally into her dreams. Finally, Merwyn reached the summit and looked around the mountain. Nothing except the Roc's nest that she had avoided on her hike up to the summit.

As Merwyn began to make her descent, she spotted the tiny flickering of a campfire far off on the adjacent mountain. She had climbed the wrong mountain! There was no time to climb a mountain again; winter was approaching, and the most dangerous creatures living in the mountains would soon return to their nests. There was nothing that she had packed and nothing that she could see that would allow her to reach the sage until the following spring. Nothing except the Roc's nest that she had avoided on her hike up to the summit.

Merwyn carefully made her way to a ledge overlooking the nest and peered over the edge. There was only a single egg in the nest; unfortunately, the mother roc was not home to take her across. Merwyn climbed down the ledge and waited patiently in the nest. Patiently... patiently... patient... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. When she returned from the world of dreams and oxygen-deprivation, it was pitch-black night. The first thing that she saw with her darkvision was the furry face of a baby roc staring back at her. The baby roc opened its beak and... waited.

"krakawww krakawww!"

Merwyn opened her pack and dropped some of her rations into its waiting mouth; it quickly chowed down and opened its mouth again, waiting for more.

"KRAKAWWW KRAKAWW!"

This time, the cries were deeper and more distant. Soon, she heard the heavy beat of wings and felt the bursts of wind. The momma bird had returned, and she was not happy. Merwyn looked around; there was nothing except the Roc's nest that she was now sitting in. And there was nothing in the Roc's nest except a single baby roc. There was only one way out.

Merwyn nudged the baby roc to the edge of the nest and jumped on its back. The pair plunged off the mountain side into the darkness. Her only landmark and target was the tiny flickering flame of the mountain sage. For what seemed like an eternity, she felt weightless, as if she was being carried off into her dreams. The flame was too low in their trajectory. Open your wings, fly! Merwyn prayed from her very core, but they continued their descent. As they fell, the flame drifted upwards and upwards until it fell out of her sight. She had missed him! Her darkvision, only sixty feet in range, couldn't see that the ground was quickly approaching them. Merwyn closed her eyes and waited to wake up.

Merwyn clutched the baby Roc tighter and for an instant, their hearts connected. Driven by the roc's instinct and Merwyn's will, the hours-old roc opened its wings for the first time.

"CRACK!"

The bones in the immature wings broke like twigs from the massive force and the two empathetically-linked minds shared a piercing pain. Then...darkness. When Merwyn awoke and looked around, she saw that she was in a forest at the base of the mountain. She poked herself with a needle and she felt it. She was alive! Then she remembered how she had used the baby roc and was ashamed. Merwyn fell on the crippled roc and began to sob.

The weather began to turn for the worst and the snow began to fall. Merwyn fastened the roc onto her back and began to climb the nearby mountain, once again to find the sage. She slowly ascended the mountain, alternating between crawling and passing out from exhaustion. Each time she fell into a dream, the snow covered her from head to toe. Each time that she woke up, she shook herself free and poked herself with a needle. Her body was too numb from the cold; she couldn't tell whether she was in her dreams or in reality. After days of persistence, fueled by unending guilt for what she had done to the roc and her age-old mission to save herself from the curse, Merwyn reached the top of the mountain. She sat down next to the extinguished campfire and waited to die. The difference between dreams and reality, she had now learned, was that reality doesn't always turn out well. Eventually, the wizened sage stepped out of his cave and opened up his hands palms outstretched, as if anticipating the reason that Merwyn had come. Now was her chance. Merwyn phrased the answer in her mind: please rid me of my curse and let me live in reality. But what came out was quite different.

"Please relieve this roc of its suffering."

The sage nodded once and smiled. With gentle care, he carried the baby roc into his cave and began to mix his medicines and magic, before feeding it to the roc. The sage came out and looked at Merwyn. "His wings will never be the same. For the next few years, he won't be able to hunt and take care of himself. He does not recognize his mother as his own. You'll have to take care of him yourself."

Merwyn nodded. "I will. Thank you for your help. But before you leave, can you help me with one more thing? Please rid me of my cur-"

But the sage was already gone.

Nebuchcanezzer was born in the Thassilion empire of old, he was a fairly competant Sin Mage of Pride that served as a courtier in the Court of the Runelord of Pride himself. Nebuchcanezzer was fairly powerful and he accrued many enemies during his lifetime, these foes would prove to be the downfall of Nebuchcanezzar. Although his pride was great he recognized that his enemies were simply too powerful and that they would inevitably destroy him. As such Nebuchcanezzar with the aid of a powerful priestess of Lissala, the Goddess of Thassilion and Rune Magic entered a state of everlasting sleep during which he did not age...

Nebuchcanezzar has slept for millenia and would have likely continued on sleeping had it not been for the great stirring that is sweeping across the lands of Thassilion now called Varisi. Nebuchcanezzar awoke in his "tomb" and found that as he exited that the world had changed greatly since his day. Thassilion was now a ruin and strange caravans of tattooed beings roam the land. Nebuchcanezzar finds this nearly impossible to believe, how could the great empire have fallen to tattooed barbarians and Chelish bastards? Yet it has fallen and Nebuchcanezzar has realized something as he is perhaps the only true Sin Mage alive the title of "Runelord" is up for grabs and the glorious visions of an empire reborn with Nebuchcanezzar as it's ruler fill his dreams and waking thoughts...then their is also the mandate.

Nebuchcanezzar slept in his tomb, the day's events had been hard to fathom and he needed to sleep as his mind tried to adapt to the changes. Then a vision came to him as he slept it was no mere dream but something of divinity...

Nebuchcanezzar stood in a massive Thassilion hall that was done in the tradition of the First Thassilions who had migrated from Azlant to colonize the land that would be called Thassilion. The hall would have been glorious, a true example of Thassilion architecture at it's finest were it not for it's state. The walls were faded and cracking, the frescos that had once been so beautiful and artistic now were almost coloress and looked like they had been created by a rather "talented" orc. The centerpiece of the hall, the great throne was in ruins. It's stone was chipped, the gold had lost it's color from rust and the embedded jewels were worn and filled with cracks. Upon the throne sat Lissala, instead of the glorious matron who was the mother of the great empire sat a haggered crone with a withered frame, grey hair and sullen eyes. She wearily motioned for him to stand before her throne and then in a tired and crack voice she spoke.

"So one of my beloved children still lives, perhaps hope still remains for myself, my children and the empire that I gave birth to. However I must know whether or not you are worthy and willing to bear the burden of restoring Thassilion and it's people to their rightful place as lords of these lands. What say you, mage of my empire?"

"I will bare the burden of Thassilion's restoration with pride, I will bring you everlasting glory and exalt you above all other deities past, present and future. I will serve as the greatest Runelord to ever exist in these lands, I will restore the temples, monuments and even the people of this great land."

"You speak as a true child of my womb would speak, with pride and dignity. Know that if you succeed you shall not just be named Runelord of Pride, you will be named Emperor of Thassilion and all her holdings. To ressurect this great empire my child you must first revive my faith and find an old friend and a beloved daughter of mine. You must find the body of Priestess Rye and bring her corpse to the ruins of my first temple. There she shall rejoin the ranks of the living and serve as my High Priestess upon this world and she will serve as your advisor."

Priestess Rye his old friend and ally in Thassilion of old, this strange future might be worth living in afterall...

"Now go my child and remember that so long as you follow me you have the Mandate of Lissala."

With those words Nebuchcanezzar faded back into slumber...

Nebuchcanezzar is not the only being of the empire to have awoken, an ancient enemy has awoken known as "Than'Zir". Than'zir was a powerful member of the Court of Gluttony and the enemy that forced Nebuchcanezzer into his deep slumber. Just as the stirrings in Thassilion awoke him so has Than'zir been awoken...as a Lich of great power. Neither is aware of the existence of the other yet it is inevitable that they will face each other...it is if Pharasma herself has decreed them eternal foes...

The reason why Nebuchcanezzar is a level 1 Sin Mage instead of a level ten sin mage is this, Sin Magic is in a state of Flux. Now that Lissala has almost no worshippers she has reverted to the LN Goddess that gave Thassilion rune magic, she is no longer the LE goddess of the empire. Sin Magic is slowly reverting to it's orginial form: Rune Magic. As such Nebuchcanezzar is using Rune Magic instead of Sin magic and it is while similiar to it's corrupted cousin different. However Sin Magic can still be used by say Than'zir and others (it's similiar to the weave/shadow weave of pre spell plague faerun).

Nebuchcanezzar is a true Thassilion, he is proud of himself, his culture and his people. He finds the new inhabitants of the land, the Chelexians and the Varisians to be barbarian interlopers. While he has great disdain for these people he does hide it well, in the Court of Pride you had to be polite even to your most hated enemies and rivals. Although one quickly learned how to subtlely disguise threats and make insinuations in the Court of Pride. Nebuchcanezzar is a subtle being who relies on backroom deals and well laid plans, most enemies won't know he is about to strike until it is too late.

Nebuchcanezzar can be described as Cunning, Proud, Cautious, Scheming, Prepared and Disdainful of the "new guys".

5 Rova 4707

Brodert Quink esq.
Sanpoint, Varisia

My old friend,

Regarding our previous correspondence, the suggestion put forth by yourself regarding the nature of the structure locally known as “the old light” is quite simply the work of fanciful imagination. The hypothesis that the building might have served some defencive purpose is plausible, certainly, but manner in which you’ve proposed that it operated and the range you suggest it may have functions are quite ludicrous indeed.
Nonetheless, I put forth your findings to the committee here, against my better judgement on account of our long and amiable friendship. This was the one rare occasion in which I agree with the ruling of the committee, who deemed your findings to be primarily conjecture and lacking of enough supporting evidence to be considered a teachable theory. You know my history with the committee. None more than I know of their shortsightedness and blind adherence to tradition, but in this you must agree they see the picture clearly.

Speaking of my history with the committee, I must admit that the cause for my writing is beyond simply notifying you of the results of your proposal. It seems the manner of my teaching has upset the committee again. They ignore the results I’ve achieved in molding and shaping young minds, in exciting their imaginations and fueling a passion for our history in a way that dusty old tomes could never do! I mean really, how am I supposed to know that the son of a wealthy diplomat is marked for marriage to a Chelaxian noble, and that he has an obsessive fear for all things related to hell? There is no way I could have predicted he would fling himself over the bannister at the mere sight of a conjured image of a devil. I mean really, the boy knew we were studying the history of Avistan’s more powerful nations, and what nation has been more influential in modern history than Cheliax?
But I digress, yes due to the nature of the “incident” the committee has deemed it prudent that I take a sabbatical away from the Stone of Seers here in Magnimar. As such, I’ve decided to come for a visit. Officially, I will be representing the cand recording this moment of history for your small town. My understanding is that you’ve erected a new Cathedral, correct? Unofficially, it will be good to see you again old friend, not many here at the Stone share our passion for ancient Thassilon.

Again, that is not entirely truthful either. Yes, I’m being ousted from my home, and yes it will be good to see you, but if I’m really being honest Brodert, my legs are starting to itch again. I know my parents, Desna watch over them, had my best interests at heart when they taught me to stay home and settle into a career as they did, but the bleaching has been hard on me. I yearn to travel, to see new sights, to experience some of this history we read by the fireplace! It shall be good to be out of doors once more and away from my cushioned chair.

Look for me in two weeks time at the Swallowtail Festival

Yours in friendship,

Walden Tyronius Ettinmoor

Krokod is a fine example of a Varisian man. Years of dancing have honed his body so that while lithe, it is also muscular. His shoulder length hair is light brown with red highlights and his eyes are hazel with gold flecks, both the highlights and the flecks seem to grow more pronounced when he is near flame, or using his Oracle abilities. When not prepared for battle, Krokod fancies open vests and breaches that allow him to move about with ease. His kapenia, or family scarf, is a prized possession of his and is only rarely not about his waist.

Krokod may have the interest of the gods like any cleric would, but he certainly lacks the wisdom of a priest. That's not to say he's a fool, but there are gaps in his common sense and willpower that mean he's going to have a long hard haul to any form of enlightenment that sticks.

For one thing, he's far too susceptible to the fairer sex's charms, and prone to bad choices where they are concerned. He can be vain about his talent as a performer and fearful in facing the more spiritual questions of his existence lest he find himself under some obligation which he'd only resent.

That said, he's still a good human being who genuinely enjoys sharing joy with others. He is often kind to those in need and generous with his coin. Krokod has been in enough trouble of his own that he's often driven by an urge to help others who are in over their heads.

Age: 6
Krokod stamped his feet and twirled in orbit around his mother and aunt alongside his siblings while the sound of his father's flute and his uncle's drums filled the air. He was too young to take the center of the circle, but already many praised his growing skill. That praise was as sweet sounding as the music, and sweeter even than the clink of coins falling onto the cobblestones of the street. A month ago, they'd entertained a Shoanti tribe, then came here. They would be in this town for another month at most, and then head farther south following the path of seasons.

Age: 10
"Sczarnzi trash!" the older Cheliaxian boy shoved Krokod against a wall while the bully's friends cheered him on. Being out numbered three to one was bad enough, but to be mislabeled on top of it was worse.

"I'm Varisian, not Sczarni! My family are honest performers!" Krokod protested as his assailant balled up a fist.

"You're all the same," the little bigot sneered. Every city had its share of invader blooded bigots, but Korvoso was by all means the worst. It also paid well, but Krokod knew that if he lived through this, his father might still take the switch to him for his foolishness in wandering off alone.

At the last moment, Krokod weaved to the side causing his attacker's fist to slam into a very hard wall. Invaders of Cheliax blood had brought some misery to these lands, but credit where credit was do, they made solid buildings. Making a note to thank his mother for teaching him how to move quickly and gracefully, Krokod took the opening and ran.

They ran too, right after him, but as much as Krokod wanted to avoid a thrashing, if he had to have one, he'd rather have it stay in the family. The faces of the bullies paled when they turned yet another corner only to find Krokod behind a wall of a wall of his older brothers and cousins, all of which were now brandishing clubs or knives. The look on his tormenters' faces made the switching later so very worth it.

Age: 14
Not all Cheliaxans were bad, Krokod decided as he and Norava continued to kiss behind the wagon. His dancing was getting better, and a lot of girls his age seemed to enjoy watching. Of course, of late, he'd rather enjoyed watching girls in return. His grandmother had once told him to never stop learning, and while she was the last person on his mind right now, it was proving to be enjoyable advice.

Not so far away, his grandmother was tending another dancer's strained leg while his mother and father had a discussion.

"You mark my words, a woman maybe the death of our boy one day!" She paced.

The father tried and failed to keep the pride out of his voice, "Bah. He's young. Let him sow his oats. A few burns may yet teach him about how to respect the flame, eh?"

It was an ironically prophetic choice of words.

Age: 18

The shimmering damsel on the bed with him was only slightly older than Krokod himself, and her beauty was quite intoxicating. He had never dallied on silk sheets before. Years had refined Krokod's performance in more than one area, and while Krokod was a charming flatterer and dotted on those involved in delightful mutual conquest, he wasn't ready to stop his oat sowing yet. If the gods didn't want him sleeping around, they really should stop making so many lovely creatures.

Krokod reached to stir her with a kiss, when a servant came in a rush.

"What's the meaning of this?" The maid's mistress demanded pulling the sheet over her in a modest gesture that was, at this stage, something of a waste.

"He's returned!" The maid blurted, "He's on his way upstairs."

"What?" Krokod's lover's eyes went wide, "He was supposed to be gone for another half a month yet!"

The maid shrugged helplessly. Anything she'd say at this point would be obvious. Well, obvious to anyone but Krokod who was confused.

"He's here? Who's here?" Krokod was baffled.
"My husband!" His paramour started to push him out of the bed.

"You have a husband?" Krokod's eyes widened in surprise, "Why didn't you tell..."

"You never asked," She explained, "Now go, before he has his men tear you apart!"

"Gods!" The performer scrambled for his clothes and made it to the door only to have it broken open by two of the biggest men he'd ever seen. Behind them was a shorter wrinkled man in fine garb. His expression was furious.

"Oh, Chelchius! Thank the gods you're here, this masher almost took advantage of me!" His wife's eyes filled with instant tears.

Krokod suddenly realized he was the SECOND best performer in the room. And then the punches from the hired goons came. They beat him within an inch of his life and through the blackness and blood, Krokod heard the older man's voice say

"Burn the remains of this... trash!"

It looked like the last inch would be taken by fire. Obedient to their employer, the two fellows bound him up, built a bonfire on the estate grounds and then threw him onto it.

Krokod wasn't sure what happened after that. He wasn't sure if he was praying or screaming (or both) but it was in a language he'd never spoken before. His clothes caught fire about him, and so to did the ropes that held him. But Krokod himself was surprised to find that the flames were actually healing his wounds! Hidden by the smoke and flames, he stopped screaming in the odd tongue, and played dead.

Minutes later, the thugs had left, and while still dazed, confused, and very very nude, Krokod ran with a speed he's never achieved before any time of his life.

Age: 19 (Now)
Sandpoint would be perfect for him, Krokod knew. It was out of the way yet at the same time thriving, and had a theatre to compare with those in the major cities! He'd received no reply in his correspondence to Cyrdak Drokkus, but that didn't deter him in the slightest. True, sometimes his voice was not his own, but Krokod was now a solo act (his family having mostly retired) and he meant to be a great one.

Sandpoint would give him a new chance to hone his talent, and maybe, just maybe, he could placate the fires that still spoke to him in his dreams with sizzling whispers and bright secrets.

Just stay away from married women, Krokod He warned himself, The next fellow is likely to drown you, and I don't think we'll have the next element be nearly so merciful.