GM IronDesk's Lonely Coast (Inactive)

Game Master IronDesk

Human Occultist (Seal Etched Occultist) 1
N Medium humanoid (human)
Init +0; Senses Perception +0

DEFENSE

AC 13, touch 10, flat-footed 13 (+3 armor)
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +4, Ref +0, Will +2

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft.
Melee Longsword 4+, 1d8+4/19-20x2, dagger 4+, 1d4+4/19-20x2
Special Attacks

STATISTICS

Str 18 (16+2), Dex 10, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 16
Base Atk +0; CMB +4; CMD 14
Feats Scribe Binder Tattoo (bonus feat, General Hessant), Capstone Binder and Expel Spirits (Occult)
Skills Knowledge (history, religion) 4+, Knowledge (arcana) 5+, Bluff 7+, Intimidate 8+ and profession (Tattoo artist) 4+
Traits Student of the Tuath and bully
Languages Common
favored class Bonus 1 extra skillpoint per level
spirits Known
SQ Bind Spirits, Constellation Aspects, Barred Constellations (angel, skull and tree)
equipment studded leather (25 gp), dagger (2 gp) and scholar's outfit (free).

Human Occultist(Seal Etched Occultist) 1
N Medium humanoid (human)
Init +4; Senses Perception +0

DEFENSE

AC 13, touch 10, flat-footed 13 (+3 armor)
hp 11 (1d8+3)
Fort +5, Ref +0, Will +2

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft.
Melee Dagger 0+, 1d4/19-20x2
Special Attacks

STATISTICS

Str 10, Dex 10, Con 16, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 18 (16+2)
Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 10
Feats Scribe Binder Tattoo (Cave Mother), Improved Initiative, Capstone Binder
traits Bully and Student of the Tuath
favored class bonus 1 skillpoint per level
Skills Knowledge (planes, religion, history)6+, Knowledge (arcana) 7+, Diplomacy 8+, Bluff 8+, Intimidate 9+, profession (tattoo artist) 4+
Languages Common, Elven, Sylvan
SQ Spirit Binding, constellation aspects, barred constellations (hero, noble, tree)
equipment dagger (2 gp), studded leather (25 gp), scholar's outfit (free)

The spaces in between villages and towns are dark, lonely places. On the moors even a raging campfire and the presence of good friends can't always keep the darkness from weighing on one's soul. Even the hardiest warrior sometimes shudders when he looks out into the neverending dark in between outposts of civilization, for the night is dark and full of terrors.

The Lady of Shadows is one of these. She was once a first folk who had pledged a year and a day of service to the lords of the Wild Hunt. What is a year and a day in the life of a being of spirit, a being for whom the millstone of time doesn't turn? The life of a fey is long, and for joining the Hunt was a new exercise.

It was unfortunate for the Lady that her year and a day coincided with the culmination of a mortal conjurer's attempt to summon and direct the Wild Hunt. He spent years researching, more years acquiring the proper materials, months constructing the summoning and protective circles, and finally he was ready to cast his spell, to drag the very embodiment of wildness and animalistic abandon into the material world to serve his purposes.

It may not come as a shock that the wizard had overestimated his own abilities, or underestimated the raw power of the Hunt and its master. Likely both. But while his conjuration failed to harness the Wild Hunt, it did summon a few of its least servitors. Unfortunately for him, his failed spell had the effect of marring his summoning circle and the dozen shadow hounds on the Lady's leash tore him to pieces.

More unfortunately for the Lady, the wizard's spell had saddled her with the one thing none of the first folk would ever want- the fragment of a mortal soul. Part of the summoner's plan had been to bind the spirit-stuff of the fae with the rude matter of man, preventing his new slaves from simply slipping into shadows and returning to the primal world from which they came. This part of his spell worked perfectly.

The Lady could not return home, weighed down as she was with her new shard of a soul. After she finished wreaking her vengeance on the wizard's home, she walked out into the bland, lifeless wilds of the material world in search of a cure. She has so far been unable to find anything nearing a cure for her condition.

What she has done, though, is to create a legend in the wild places, of a Lady whose face is cloaked in shadow, whose shadow hound has burning eyes and who stops anyone who looks like they have the least amount of magical training to confer on matters of arcane transportation and planar travel. Her legend is often conflated with the efforts of bandits or wild beasts and she is often blamed for far more carnage than she causes.

Lomenvilesse, though, beautiful if frail elven witch, clearly has no relation to what is more likely than not a fairy tale. For one thing, she's real. For another, what kind of fae gets sick? Lomenvilesse stumbled into town recently with a case of zombie rot, close to death's door, without a penny to her name and looking for a cure.

Using In the Company of the Fey, the Lady is a first folk and Vilesse is her elven seeming. Whatever is rotten out there in the wilds infected her and she came to town to see if mortal healers could cure what she could not.

Tomi opened his eye to see a vulture surveying him hungrily. 'Hello bird' Tomi said, or at least tried to - all that came out was a raspy croak. Some distant part of his mind wondered why only one of his eyes was open, and if perhaps this bird had already sampled his flesh in the form of his other eye. Almost of its own volition a hand made its way to his face, to find the absent eye swollen closed by an extremely painful wound. The distant part of his mind rejoiced at this chance for continued binocular vision, while the rest of it struggled to make sense of his situation. The vulture, seemingly dismayed by these signs of life in what had been a promising looking breakfast, cawed and flapped its wings – though it didn’t give up hope completely.

He was hungover. He felt like a rabid wolf had made its water into his eye sockets, then chewed out his tongue. He felt like someone had chopped his head off, pickled it in salt for four and twenty days then reattached it using barbed wire for thread, the remnants of which yet remained in his throat. He felt like he had been mummified…. This continued on for some minutes, Tomi coming up with increasingly elaborate ways to describe his condition. Eventually he was forced to admit that although fun, this was bringing him no closer to home – let alone standing. Abruptly he realised he was freezing cold, and stark naked to boot. Making a quick catalogue of his scrapes and bruises, which felt very much like he’d been dragged backwards behind a horse – here a shard of memory bubbled up in his mind unbidden, a memory of brawling with a number of his tribes warriors – but none of which meant he wouldn’t be able to walk.

Struggling to his feet and finding he had no idea where he was, he cast around for his own tracks. They didn’t prove difficult to find, it looking like a wild boar had been rampaging through the long savannah grass. Another memory, this one more disturbing, of thinking he actually was a wild boar on a rampage. For a moment he relived the exultation in that terrorising strength, then shook his head as he began tracking himself back to camp. he decided he might be suffering from exposure and left the vulture to scrawk its displeasure as it made its way back into the cold blue sky. Some time later he stumbled to the top of the ridge in the lee of which the Marjan tribe had sheltered for the previous seven days, to discover his people had abandoned him – only his own small tent still stood, with his faithful pony, Chaser, hobbled nearby.

After Tomi had built a fire and drunk copiously from his waterskins, he considered his situation. He knew he would be able to find the Marjan with ease – though they travelled light and careful, his skill was equal to the task. Though he was young and brash, he was not however completely stupid – he understood the message explicit in their leaving. Another memory rushed up from his subconscious, this time of the wizened old shaman Horvat grinning like a skull as he offered Tomi a drink from the flask on his belt. It had knocked Tomi over, then transformed him into a falcon. As a falcon he had flown high over the plains of his people, and seen a trail burning like fire away from their encampment. Higher and higher he had flown, until he could see the trail led all the way to Jurid – that distant enclave of humanity with whom Tomis tribe sometimes traded, and from there across the ocean… he dimly perceived that there was some kind of destiny afoot here, but for now his irrepressibly ebullient nature came to the fore once more. Adventures ahead, and his dream-trail seemed a good a direction to start in as any. He crowed like a rooster, one of his favourite animal noises but one which always earned the ire of neighbouring tents. His pounding headache did not appreciate his efforts, but doing his best to ignore it he packed up his sparse possessions and jumped astride chaser.

Wheeling in the sky above, Horvat watched him leave from the eyes of the vulture which had awakened Tomi. He had cracked open the inner eye which might eventually enable Tomi to peer into the spirit world – but for now it was up to Tomi to earn his own wisdom, and his own way in the world.

Sergeant Wulfric Uren
Male Armiger 1
NG
Init: 2; Perception: 5

DEFENSE
AC: 17 (+7 Armour); Flatfooted: 17; Touch: 10
HP: 15 (1D12 +2 +1)
Fort: 4; Ref: 1; Will: 3 (+1 vs fear)

OFFENSE
Speed: 20ft
Melee: Guisarme +4 (2D4 +6)
Melee: Club +4 (1D6 +4/6)
Ranged: Sling +1 (D4+4)

STATISTICS
Str 18; Dex 12; Con 14; Int 13; Wis 13; Cha 12
BAB: +0; CMB: +4 (+1 for Trip); CMD: +15
Languages: Common and Dwarf.

FEATS
Combat Reflexes
Combat Expertise

TRAITS AND DRAWBACKS
Local kid makes good: +1 save vs fear effects and +1 to CMB for 1 type of manouevre (Trip).
Tactician: +1 trait bonus to Initiative and once per day get a +2 on one attack of opportunity.

SKILLS
Acrobatics +1
Appraise +1
Bluff +1
Climb +4
Diplomacy +5
Disguise +1
Escape Artist +1
Fly +1
Heal +5
Intimidate +5
Knowledge(Local) +5
[b]Perception + 5
Perform +1
Ride +1
Sense Motive +5
Sleight of Hand +1
Stealth +1
Survival +1
Swim +4

GEAR
Guisarme, Club, Sling, 10 Bullets, Splint Mail, Heavy Wooden Shield, Backpack, Bedroll, Flint and Steel, Signal Whistle, Waterskin, Hooded Lantern, Oil Flask, 5 days of Trail Rations. 9GP 4SP 0CP

SPECIAL ABILITIES
Skilled (applied)

Favoured class +1 HP

Bulwark Grants soft cover to all adjacent allies (+4AC vs ranged)

Wulfric is a well armoured unit, who will be specialising in tripping with his polearm and soaking damage. He carries his shield at the moment so he can practise even though he can't use it with his polearm quite yet (lvl 2). He is a bit of a minor 'face' character as well. Although a soldier and used to rules, Wulfric is also aware that some stuff gets achieved more quickly when the rules get 'bent' and puts doing the 'right' thing above doing the 'correct' thing.

Born and raised in Swallowfeld, Wulfric is the son of a miner. Helping out in the mine whilst growing up helped develop Wulfric into a strong and tough young man and to develop an easy rapport with his fellow commoners.

During the winter of ..... the Gut-ripper goblin tribe assaulted Swallowfeld and Wulfric witnessed the crazy old dwarf miner Yurlack Torstren in his full heavy armour holding a breach in the stockade alone. Thus began Wulfric's passion for Heavy armour (preferably dwarven, obviously!)and the idea of a heroic last stand.

As soon as he was old enough Wulfric apprenticed himself to the garrison at Wolverton, where he was drawn to the heavy infantry. He quickly established himself and became known for using his brain as well as his brawn to overcome problems. As a result it was hardly surprising that recently, when his squad was ambushed by goblins on a routine patrol and his sergeant severly wounded, it was Wulfric that stepped up. Placing himself between his squad and the threat Wulfric used his polearm to slow the attacking goblins. This gave him time to use his knowledge of tactics to command a fighting withdrawal ensuring that no-one got left behind.

Due to this act of bravery Wulfric has been promoted to Sergeant and been offered some time off. After the disappearance of the sister of his childhood friend Alun, Wulfric has decided to return to Swallowfeld to do something about these 'marauders'. He is extremely excited to be returning home as this will be his first chance to tell his parents and show them his stripes.

Wulfric is a firm believer in doing what is 'right', bending the rules if needed. At 6ft1 he is a large solid looking young man with several scars and a broken nose that he wears with pride. His shining armour and immaculate uniform now bear a sergeant's stripes of which he is incredibly proud. An affable young man he is quick to laugh and always ready for an ale or several. When on duty he is the consummate professional, always keen, confident and with a firm belief that he can take on the world.

Catcher is not a cruel person. She is crazy, deep down inside she is crazy to the bone, she is afraid of her magical powers and what they can do. She hear voices all the time, demanding her to do things she does not want, but that has been like that for most of her life.
She appears to be a nice girl, smiling most of time and easy going.

She is intended to be a Universalist or evocation mage. She’ll dip maybe into item creation, but mostly weapon/armor and items. I’ll in more future levels, try get her to walk into a melee path. The goal is to get Eldritch knight prestige class.

Life at Oakhurst was never easy. Being the middle child into a large family, a poor family is even worse. Her father was not a cruel man, but the responsibility of feeding a huge crowd made her think so, it was only natural, she were seven.
And that was what made her venture into the woods, alone. She never went too far, at first only staying in the woods all day was enough. Her parents would punish her for that every day, but even then, she still kept going.
Soon, staying close was not enough anymore, and deeper she went, every day. She was scared, with all those wild rumors of wolfs and goblins killing children. Nevertheless, that was a new thing for her, a new feeling, and it was one of those days she found the cave.
Inside it, there was decomposed body. Using strange clothes. It appeared to be a dress, but unlike the ones her mother used. She was eight at time.
With the body, she found some strange things. There was a huge book, with lots of strange writings, a ring, a real sword and a diary.
She read the diary the fasted she could, and in the end, the dead person is what someone call a ‘wizard’. She was fascinated by it. He could do things no one else was able. He could create light and call down fire. It was all because of that huge book it seems, he was able to do it.
The next day, she came again to the cave, and began studying the huge book. It was tiring and most of the times frustrating. It took her a long time to begin to understand it was a set of instructions. When she got tired, she would practice with the sword, faking enemies she could not see.
She was twelve when she was first able to conjure a simple magic! After a long an arduous work, she was able to grasp how to create fire from her fingers. It was both frightening and wonderful.
A couple of days later, things changed for the worse. She was still in her cave, when trying to understand more of the instructions when someone stepped into the cave. Surprised she turned to see whom it was, in time to see his hand come down into her face, and then she saw nothing more for a long time.

She awoke bound and gagged. She was hurt everywhere, even in places she did not knew she could be hurt. She was laying on a cold and hard surface. There was more people near her, grown up people. They were all using some strange clothes, their faces covered. They were chanting a strange song, and from the song, she could hear voices, cruel and mocking voices. Voices that knew her, every secret, every fear, voices that kept whispering what was been done with her and what would happen now.
She began to struggle and try to get free and that seemed to make the others more excited in the end, the voices where screaming in her head, but the only thing she saw was the dagger in the man hand, piercing her chest. The yelling in her head turned to a mocking laughter and pain followed, more than anything else she could imagine. Then, darkness came again.

==//==

She was found on the riverbanks and was thought dead. However, she cried when her body was moved, surprising everyone.
They took her in, cared for her. She would never speak unless spoken to. At night, she would scream from nightmares. She was a nice girl.
Soon enough, she was helping her new family doing some mining work. It fitted her, she was a frail girl, but he was stronger than most of the boys.
She would still hear the voices in her head, they told her things, they made her remember what she had read and studied. Over the years, she learned to discern the truth behind the lies in the voices, and was able to recreate the mage spell book to a certain degree. She also got better at using her powers. But she kept it hidden from everyone, believing that it was her powers that had brought the bad man to hurt her.