GM Mikkel's homebrew Pathfinder campaign in a militarized magic setting [Completed] (Inactive)

Game Master Mikkel Madsenn

Immersive style GM reporting: I don’t plan to show results for roles I make (or even that a roll has been made) for PCs or NPCs, except for initiative and attack, where this translates to feedback the characters would experience. Your character would perceive what they perceive, and players won’t get meta-context.

-----
Example : a human, a dwarf, and an elf walk into a bar dark chamber while exploring ruins

SHOWN (in spoilers):

Kaylee’s eyes don’t adjust well to the dark room. She can make out the faint shadows of the party on the dusty stone floor and a bit of fuzzy gray light ahead that vaguely resembles a doorway roughly 50 feet away. There is a current of air from ahead that feels warm and thick, and carries a musty, unpleasant smell.

Liliyn also sees a faint outline of what looks like debris on the ground ahead.
(Also read Kaylee’s.)

Pedro can make out the outline of the massive rectangular room, spanning 15 feet to either side. His eyes are drawn to a dozen skeletal remains between his party and the door on the other side. All appear to be well armed, wearing rusted armor and expensive fabrics, now ruined. Some have fallen as though they were struck down facing the room ahead, weapons still near their gloved hands. The rest are stretched out as though they died fleeing. The closest rests about 30 feet away, lying with one one arm outstretched toward the group and a grisly expression on its skeletal face.

Pedro also sees a faint sheen of moisture glisten on the walls of the rectangular room. The rear wall looks to be covered almost entirely in moss and vines. He can hear the echo of a faint but distinct dripping, like water into a pool. There is a blueish-gray light ahead flowing from the room ahead or perhaps beyond that is faintly pulsing.
(Also read other spoilers.)

NOT SHOWN (rolls and difficulty checks):

Kaylee (human): Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 3 = 11
Pedro (dwarf): Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22
Liliyn (elf): Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Light from behind gives about 10 feet of dim light, light from ahead offers barely any.

DC to feel/smell breeze: 10

DCs for normal (human) vision and low-light (elf) vision:
DC to spot faintly lit doorway 50 feet away: 10/8
DC to spot the general shape of the skeletons: 15/13
DC to spot skeletons in the darkness: 30
DC to see wet walls in the darkness: 40
DC to hear water: 21

DCs for darkvision (dwarf):
DC to spot faintly lit doorway 50 feet away: 5
DC to spot skeletons in the darkness: 5
DC to see the borders of the room: 10
DC to spot light pulsing: 19
DC to hear/see water: 21

-------------------

Summary of GM rolled checks:

Perception - I will roll this anytime a character enters a new room or space, has a different field of view, or something new enters their field of view.

If your character stops to parse for something specific (i.e. runes on a wall, footprints in the snow, signs that someone is following them), that will buy her a +1-to-3 bonus for what she specified, depending on the circumstances and specificity.

If your character gets closer to an object and/or uses a better light source, that counts as changing their field of view, and would be a different roll with a lower check to perceive the details of that object.

Initiative - I will roll this if a PC, NPC, or monster attempts to initiate combat.

Knowledge - I will roll this for PCs for new encounters (with objects, people, noticed runes)

Sense motive - I will roll this automatically during conversations when someone is bluffing or isn’t telling the full truth. If a PC picks up on someone lying, I would not say ‘Kaylee thinks Pedro is being untruthful’, I would role-play ‘Kaylee notices Pedro doesn’t make eye contact and shifts uncomfortably’.

If you have any questions or want to double check you got a bonus or penalty, you’d be welcome to ask in the discussion or out-of-game.
---------------------------------

• Core races only
  
• The following restricted classes are not allowed for world-consistency and game mechanics: Primary spell casters, paladins, and alchemists
  
• --- The definition of 'primary spell caster' for this game is any class with 9 levels of spells + summoner. (For example: wizards, sorcerers, clerics, oracles, psychics, druids, summoners)
  
• You may multi-class to a restricted class level at a 1-1 ratio (at least 1 unrestricted class level for every restricted class level)
  
• The party would start at 3rd level, as competent, trained individuals (treating 1st level as about an apprenticeship in experience).
  
• 20 point buy to first level
  
• No stat lower than 10 before racial modifiers. This would be a very heavy role-playing based game, so I’d ask for no min/maxing, please. Generally, the simpler and more versatile the build, the better for our purposes.
  
• Two traits, no drawbacks
  
• No item creation feats
  
• The unchained rules we will be using are:
  
• --- 1) background skills (+2 background skills per level)
  
• --- 2) three unchained classes: barbarian, rouge or a multiclass to summoner (a restricted class).
  
• No evil alignment in the party, please. (There will likely already be some tension from characters’ backgrounds and countries of origin.)
  
• You’d start with 3000 gpc. Don’t spend more than 25% on any single item, to mimic wealth gradual gains.
  -- An excellent background reason might get you an exception up to ⅓ wealth on a single item.
  -- Note that you’ll be starting in Southtown in winter and venturing up into the mountains. (You would know the winter climate on the slopes is about Helsinki in February).
  -- No other restrictions on equipment.
  
• No third party materials.
  
• Beware, all ye who enter here: you will probably meet unfriendly NPCs that are much higher level than you. It would be most unwise to assume encounters are ‘level appropriate’ for you to start swinging swords. On that note, I might advise that having a usual speed less than 30 could be a much more serious disadvantage than you’re used to.
  

Don't forget to mention your stance on item creation feats ;). Best of luck with what sounds like a great campaign!

Concept

1) Though he may not look like it, he is a Doctor, a brilliant one at that.

2) most of what he knows I.E. Fighting, magic, skills he learned on his own. He studied from Books on Anatomy, spending time in deep wilds, ect.

3) He is not a people person, being generally gruff and generally anti-social. He has little to no friends, his sister being the only person he really got along with.

4) His parents were murdered one day when he was away, doing some nature studying. he returned to the gruesome scene of his parents dead.

5) Tristan is a good natured person, and likes to help people.

Goal

1) Tristan wants to find his sister, though he has no clue were she is or who took her. He suspects she was taken by the military for being a mage (She's a Magus) though he cannot confirm this.

Personality

Tristan is generally kind of a cranky, loner. Most of what he knows is self taught, as he dislikes people and has a hard time communicating or trusting anyone.

Tristan is unwaveringly loyal to those who earn his trust, though he may be rather blunt and hurtful, his words are always meant to help.

Although intelligent, Tristan easily succumbs to things like obsession and addiction.

Tristan view his sister Ashling as a prodigy, he idolized her. When she disappeared he grew cynical and stopped caring. He spends much of his time searching for her. He occasionally helps people, respect for what he believes she would want.

Appearance

Tristan typically appears rather scruffy, in serious need of a haircut and shave. The only constant about his outfit is an old tattered red scarf, a gift from his younger sister. Though tall an unhealthily thin he is almost always slouched over.

Hair: White, messy and poofy

Eye's: Blue

Tristan arguments, passages, ect
------------------------------------

Tristan-I said I was a loner, I didn’t say I had a problem. I pay my bills, I make my meals. I function.

Ashling- Is that all you want? You have no relationships.

Tristan I don’t want any relationships.

Ashling You alienate people.

Tristan I’ve been alienating people since I was three.

------------------------------------

Tristan- There is no right or wrong in this world, those labels are just artificial constructs there to make you feel better about your decisions. The fact is everybody lies and everybody has problems, Criticizing someone about petty things like honor or Morality is meaningless if you stop and think about it a little.
-------------------------------------

Cold, Snowing, her voice rang in my head...Go get some air Tristan, you can't alienate yourself like this, it's unhealthy. I listened to her, though i didn't want to. Nothing unusual Ash was always right. I went outside wandering around collecting herbs and various things i could use.

i visited our parent's grave's that day, they died when Ash turned 12, I was 19. Even back then she was skilled: combat, magic, and stealth. whereas i sat in my room reading books; medical, herbalism, alchemical, animals.

I found myself spending more time there than i had planned, i went home... the house was trashed, someone had broken in. Ashling was no where to be found...I lost control, threw a fit. I left when i finally regained control, there was no longer any point in staying.

I spent time traveling around from place to place, i made money where i could patching people up, never anything official. i brew potions and such in a small tub i carried around, it was lighter and easier to replace than an iron cauldron. eventually i guess that's where the name the Bathtub doctor came from. real doctors were too expensive, too controlled. What I did wasn't magic, it was from nature, everything was natural.

Experimenting with alchemical mixtures was a hobby i enjoyed, never on my patients though....I always tried out my own mixtures, not always with the best results.

I didn't have any fear, i ventured out into the wilds without care... i understood so long as you go respect it, nature will respect you. Maybe it was nature's blessing, maybe just dumb luck, i don't know but i never had much of a problem out their. It was the cities that i had problems with, people...

The last thing i remember...just mindlessly agreeing with her, maybe if i acted out, said what i wanted she would still be around. Even if i don't find her, i'll honor what she wanted...I'll help people, i'll try to not shut the world out...

1. One per day minimum is easily attainable for me. I often can and will post MANY times per day if the situation calls for more interaction.

2. I'm in PST (Seattle), and I work evenings. However, I often have small gaps between patients, so I will often post throughout the day minutes early to mid-morning when I'm getting prepped for the day and going to the gym.

3. No impossibilities for a while. I'm an Enforcer specialist for PAX Prime over Labor Day weekend, where it's unlikely I'll get more than one post in if that, but beyond that no planned lack of internet access. I am all for GM-botting if necessary, it keeps things moving for everyone.

4. I have some budding experience on these messageboards, but my greater experience comes through a Facebook PbP group that I've been doing for the last year where we post many times each day. The GM tends to run the PbP in exactly how you're laying out where our group never actually rolls anything and we never see numbers. It's all RP info.

5. I had a long history with PFS before I moved to a location in Seattle that was highly inconvenient to get to the places hosting sessions. Way back in college I had D&D 3.5 experience. The remaining RPG experience I've had is just in the video game realm.

6. After playing the Facebook PbP game for this time I've realized how much more fun it can be than at a table setting. It allows for a great deal more flavor text that really enriches the dice rolls. Sometimes that happens at a table, but it's a bit more infrequent. I also enjoy the pre-made modules Paizo has made, but I often find those turning into pseudo-video games. It's really fun to build a character that is tuned well for a module with the independent RP addition, but nearly all of my RPG history was centered around homebrew where creative problem solving was the most important thing you can do. I also love to exploit wild character concepts for fun and laughs, but I'm also very big on drawbacks (not the technical rule drawback, just the expression drawback). I typically build this into my characters, but this world you've created has REALLY intrigued me in that the nature of the design is limiting in a way that forces me to think differently and use different characters to adapt to the world. Don't get me wrong, the world you've created is really cool and I like it, but I solve really complex puzzles for a living. I like to gravitate towards things that force me to think differently.

7. I think first and foremost, I won't drop or disappear. Once I commit to something I live up to the commitment. I didn't realize how this can be REALLY rare on these boards, so I feel like it's worth mentioning. If I'm selected, I'm in for the long haul and no half-ass contribution. Secondly, I would like to think that I can help bring some entertainment to a group? This is the fun part where you have to sell yourself without sounding like an arrogant prick. I try to make interesting characters that I will enjoy playing, but who will also be fun for players and the GM to interact with. I don't believe in ruining someone else's good time to do something I want to do. Because of this, I always make sure that while one of my characters, depending on the concept, may challenge the group it won't be done in a way that is frustrating or annoying. Every so often it's even hilarious for all involved. We're all here to have fun, and in a group that means being cognizant of those around you, and I try to hold to that always.

8. I'll submit two for consideration. Each core concept and build is listed among my Aliases, and crunch will be done if selected to fit this campaign. First is this character, Amathelah Basset, the second is Cel Runil. The backgrounds are written and, again, will be modified to reflect the crunch if selected as well. Below is the blurb on what isn't covered in the already written background.

Amathelah is a human female (monk class - zen archer specifically) from a small hamlet in Abbhen. She would join the party after having left her solitary life in a forest near her hamlet. She is a bit socially...off...considering she's had no other human/humanoid contact for a very long time. Her draw to the call to find the missing Altiendel soldiers is not for glory or fame or riches. She is pursuing her path of keeping the balance and working on self-perfection. She isn't often clear with her words, partially from the limited human contact of recent but also as a drawback for having such a wisdom about things that she can make connections between things that may not be apparent to others. However, it is difficult for her to remember that these connections may not be something others have made. It ultimately turns into occasionally saying something that seems like complete non-sense, and not having the social wherewithal to "read the room" that people are confused by what she just said and thus it goes unexplained. She goes beyond traditional labels for many things. It doesn't line up with her mission in life. Good and evil are constructs of the people in the world around her. She seeks to keep the balance. Therefore, she's often seen doing works that people would consider acts of charity, of kindness, of someone who is clearly good. She, on the other hand, is only doing what is necessary to keep the flow of things intact. Joining a party is a new concept for her. She left her solitary life to gain more experiences, to help enlighten her, and as she's re-entered normal society she is beginning to understand that a part of that is learning how to interact with others. She will still work on her physical and mental perfection, keeping the balance in all things, but now she knows that to truly reach enlightenment she needs others around her, and maybe even learn what friendship is, to reach self-perfection.

Cel Runil is a human male (class Aerokineticist) from Sky City. Cel is a mess. The combination of his curiosity and intense fear really is a bad combination. His hair is unkempt and his clothes are disheveled. This is usually because something startled him mid-dressing or hair combing and he proceeded to forget to finish tucking in his shirt or parting his hair. As the guild of Gunslingers has grown, the frequent sound of blasts has really become too much for him. If he'll jump at a gust of wind, you can imagine what a rifle report will do. It finally became too much for him and he packed up and left the city. Curiosity has taken him a great many places, but he's quickly learned that he's not cut out for the solitary life. It's incredibly difficult to sleep in nature when something might eat you! He's very tired. When he happened across the call for help to find missing Altiendel soldiers the curious half of himself perked right up! What could have caused them to go missing? Soldiers should be well trained at escape and evasion, and should certainly be able to handle themselves in a fight, and they can't be found?! It was too much for him, he had to investigate. But the nature! The worrisome things out there! He would certainly need others to help him investigate. In terms of how he interacts with the group, he's quite twitchy, always looking about for dangers (perceived or real), which tends to make him an excellent watchdog. While he's not in any way clingy to people he will still try to hide behind others he thinks may handle threats better. His inquisitive nature does result in him being nosy at times, but he's not a thief and knowing that a quick shout at him will likely send him scampering and silencing his persistent questions about people, surroundings, events, anything that he doesn't understand really tend to leave most (at worst) mildly annoyed with him. He does come in handy, though, he frequently stumbles upon unexpected information that can be quite helpful simply because of his predilection to spy and investigate.

“I’m nobody’s slave.” The phrase rang in Hlynn’s ears as the girl’s neck spurted blood, sending splatters of the dark liquid across the snowclad earth. The body fell, hard, slamming into the snow, twitching and sending a pool of dark red liquid spreading across the frosted streets. Hlynn could not turn her eyes away, and her mouth was open in an expression of pure horror.

That was when she knew that there were some things worse than death. Even as a child, she was very secretive - finding little pieces of metal, dead leaves, small sticks, and hiding them about her bedroom. An only child to her single human mother, she often had to go out for chores and work, despite her young age. Keeping her strange ears hidden beneath big hats or long hair, she was taught to never talk to others - her father, it had seemed, was not somebody her mother wished to talk about, and the questions brought on by a half-elf would be even more intense than the already curious village (there not being much gossip to have around the village). This suited Hlynn - both of them liked their privacy.

Her mother, Miranda, was kind. They lived in a small village in Abbhen, distrustful of magic as many are. Neither of them liked the place’s phobias to much, but with little money and a young child, Miranda couldn’t exit the community - so she tried to keep as low a profile as possible. In their isolation, she always had enough to eat, they played games of chance and had long, drawn-out discussions into the night. As they grew older, however, Hlynn noticed her mother becoming more distant and cold. Though she still pushed for the talks and games, they became more forced every day, coming home from her job as a seamstress and immediately going to sleep, without so much as a “hello”. When confronted about this coldness, Miranda didn’t answer, just gave a sad smile and replied, “it’s not your fault”. Hlynn was 12.

Hlynn began to pursue other relationships, but it was difficult - she could relate to few people in her village, having finally revealed her elven heritage and having the village entirely inhabited by humans with small minds did not make it any easier, with most looking down on her for having anything to do with a magical-type being. However, there was one girl, who seemed to see something in the young half-elf. “I’m Kethel,” she introduced herself. It was late, just after school as Hlynn began to do her chores. They talked for hours, late into the night, both wrapped in the same blanket to keep warm. They promised to talk again, and Hlynn was happy. Hlynn was 13.

They began to spend the days and nights together, going to school, doing village work together, tending to sheep, and more, and the years that they spent together were the happiest Hlynn had ever been. When she was with Kethel, she felt like nothing could hurt her. At nights, they would run away from the town meetings at night to build their own snow tunnels out in the woods, talk and think about the future, and that’s when Kethel revealed her abilities to Hlynn. They were amazing, sending beautiful sparks of electricity through the air current and carving out small burns in the walls that they touched. When Hlynn touched, Kethel, she could feel her hairs standing up on end, tingling and exciting to the touch. Hlynn was 17.

But it was Kethel’s bravery that made Hlynn fall for her. She would skip school, climb the mountains late at night, tempt wild animals with food just to get a closer look, and swim underneath the frozen lake alone. Whereas Hlynn had spent her years trying to stay under the radar and do what she was told, Kethel always wanted to try new things, do new things. “I’ve got to live every day like it’s my last! And I don’t want to miss a thing.” For the first time since she was a child, Hlynn felt truly happy. They shared their first kiss beneath the single, dead tree next to the frozen lake, and Hlynn could feel static running through her body. Hlynn was 18.

It was when Hlynn saw the way Kethel was treated that she realized nothing could be perfect in this place. They would get kicked out of the meal halls together, would be forced into working fields alone, and shunned at the bonfire. There was always something sad in Kethel’s smile, as she tried to downplay the discrimination to Hlynn. But Hlynn could feel the sadness radiating from her. The bruises she tried to play off as being from exploring outside. Every day she would go home, and as they walked together, Hlynn could feel Kethel’s feet dragging. Hlynn never really met Kethel’s surviving parent, her father, but she would wait at the end of their property line, at the behest of Kethel. Kethel’s father was a well-respected merchant in the community, selling all sorts of curios and expensive items, but that was all Hlynn really knew. She didn’t think much of it at first, but as time went on, she could tell there was something sinister going on there. Eventually, she decided to stake out the house after Kethel had left, and determine once and for all what was going on.

Through a crack in the curtains, Hlynn could make out Kethel, yelling something at her father. Then, a hard slap, and Hlynn could feel the impact from outside. A range of abuse quickly took place inside, Hlynn frozen in fear outside, tears streaming down her face. Every single day after that, she went to the mayor’s office. She begged, she pleaded, and cried out for the mayor to help her girlfriend. The first time she asked, she was only met with the reply, ”That’s the lightning witch, right?”. He laughed. Further meetings were only met with terms like “we’re waiting on a response,” and, “it’s probably nothing.” She didn’t tell Kethel she knew, but only tried to hug her tighter when they were together.

It was a cold, snowy morning when Kethel’s father finally died. Their argument had finally made its way outside of the house, and Kethel was thrown down into the snow, bruises fresh and black against the white snow. She spat blood at her father’s feet as he slowly advanced, a crowd of bystanders surrounding them. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” Kethel’s father insisted. Kethel staggered to her feet as Hlynn exited her house to see all of the commotion. As she stared at the scene across town, she saw the local militia, weapons unsheathed, slowly drawing closer to the two. Hlynn began to sprint towards it.

She could see Kethel in the distance, pulling something from her boot, and approaching her father’s open arms. She could begin to see her expression. Kethel whispered something into her father’s ear, and then drove the dagger in her hands through his heart. She repeated what she had whispered, loudly. ”I’m nobody’s slave!” The militia advanced on her, swords raised, and Kethel stared out into the crowd, meeting eyes with Hlynn. Kethel knew what Hlynn was going to try and do, and she knew that she couldn’t escape. Hlynn tried to push through the crowd, screaming, and broke through just in time to see the knife enter Kethel’s own neck. She collapsed into Hlynn’s arms, and quickly bled out into the snow. Hlynn was 19.

After that Hlynn fell into a state of depression. She didn’t want to go anywhere, to do anything. Her mother, still withdrawn from her daughter, attempted to comfort her in her limited time at home, but nothing would draw her out of this depression. She barely ate and barely slept. Slowly, but surely, she began to come out of it. It started with going to work, the manual labor letting her work thoughtlessly, and then she began to go back to school. Not that it had anything to teach her, anyway, she thought. But maybe she could do it again. Nobody could replace Kethel, but maybe she could make a connection again. She was wrong.

That look on Kethel’s face. Those words. Even as she tried to be more outgoing in town, they haunted Hlynn’s dreams, and were the first things she thought of on that warm summer day when her powers first manifested. It was an unnaturally warm summer when the children began aggressively bullying her. The hats and hair and scarves, as well as her naturally young appearance caused some to be suspicious of her, but when she had to put them in a proud display for fear of dying from heatstroke, this lead to bullying and ire from some of her more vicious peers. Along with her public relationship with Kethel, these factors led to little results from any authority figures, even if they could see what was going on - and Hlynn wasn’t about to go and ask them for help again. With Kethel gone, she was no longer willing or brave enough to defend herself from these antagonists. They ripped at her hair and knocked her to the brink of consciousness, before taking her deep into the mountains to that frozen lake (now thawed for the summer), and held her underneath, calling her terrible names and saying she didn’t deserve to eat the same food they did. It didn’t end well for them. Under duress, the lake froze beneath her and shattered, sending flying spears of ice out faster than she could blink. Two of the boys were impaled, and died nearly instantly. The last one was merely wounded, bleeding badly, laying on the ground sobbing and asking for forgiveness as he slowly bled out. Hlynn was 22.

She knew that day that she might never be safe. Never be free from this kingdom and these people, who would persecute and discriminate against her and whatever magick posessed her. Like Kethel, she would be sentenced to a death that was not her own, a life full of fear and pain, and Hlynn would sooner join her dead paramour than become a prisoner of this society. A slave to their whims, and she finally understood. She would never let the kingdom control her, or her abilities, and she would never let them determine the way she would live and die. She shoveled the bodies deep into the mountain, vowing that no one would ever find out, never discover what she was. And so, this secret, like so many others, began to gnaw at her heart. She left school and her mother often, venturing into the frozen mountains, climbing, communing with the cold and the snow, retreading old ground. She avoided every question, and didn’t talk to anyone - while she didn’t think they would find the bodies, there were many people who reported her last being seen with the boys. She dreaded every day, fearing the question or probe that would prove she was the one who murdered the other kids. She spent most of her nights in tears, thinking of the dead body covered in scarlet blood, and trained even harder. She would not be a casualty - she would kill anyone that came for her. She would be strong for both of them.

She withdrew once again to her bed - from townsfolk and her mother, the closer the day came to her 23th birthday. She had a plan - she was going to run. On the day of her birthday, she celebrated as best as she could, with her mother and a small number of expensive confectionaries, and then, that night in the cold and dark, she donned a black cloak, grabbed whatever gear she could, and stole away into the mountains, a mantra beating heavily in her chest. “I’m nobody’s slave.”

Born a middle child to a family of wealthy elves, Henri never really felt like she quite belonged. During the day, she would be schooled by a private professor on history, magic, the church, and more, but her sight always drifted to the window outside. While her parents were pushing her to become a paladin, a great person in the kingdom, she couldn’t help but pull away from their forced legacy. The city, the outside, and adventure called to her, and like a siren, she could only resist it so much.

In her early life, she could only get away once or twice before the family sent the guards after her, but slowly and surely, she began to get to an age where they couldn’t keep her inside forever. Immediately after lessons she would walk the streets, watching people, animals, stores, and eventually walking out of the city to enjoy nature. Henri would come back with dirt all over her, grass stains in her dresses, and to the tune of scolding from her mother.

The pushing became brutal in her youth - her parents forced lessons daily down her throat, micromanaging everything from her schedule to her diet, and she could find little time to herself - with every new week her free time shrunk, and the lectures grew. She wasn’t good enough. She would never be good enough if she didn’t get her life in order. Did she want to be a failure? She’d never be happy.

She tried to ignore them. She was seeing things and doing things that she had never expected to be able to do, and was learning about the whole world outside of her little dome of clerics and mages. But still, they penetrated and filled her with doubts. What if she wouldn’t be happy doing this? But she knew she needed to act. In her adolescence, after another hours-long lecture from her mother, Henri had decided (albeit rashly): She was going to leave her oppressive little family, and she was going to explore the world. Packing up and leaving under the cover of darkness, she set off to find her fortune.

Her cloak hid her face from the world as she slowly made her way south towards Abbhen. All the cities here were shiny. Too manicured. All they did was remind her of her hometown and her parents. She couldn’t let their words creep back into her mind again! The kingdom of Abbhen, however - filled with smoke, dirt, grit, the history spoke to her and called her to it.

She first learned about her penchant for fighting in a bar near the border of the two kingdoms. She had been slowly burning through the money she stole by gambling - though the inns and taverns she stayed at had certainly drained her a bit. She loved playing cards, the feeling of risk and luck and victory coming from a perfectly executed bluff excited her more than sword training ever could. However, what she didn’t realize when she sat down at the gambling table was that she had walked in on a small gang’s card game, and when she came away with most of the money, they were understandably upset.

As the barroom brawl started, it quickly began to pull in other patrons to her side - only a few, but it was enough to turn the tide against the gang and send them out of the bar with tails between their legs. And it was the first time Henri had felt real, true cooperation - and the first time she had felt so alive. It was a joyous experience, and in a rush of adrenaline and emotion, she had a short, one-night affair with one of her fellow brawlers.

This became her routine across a long set of taverns. The brawl could happen any way - she would often brag and boast to annoy others, along with cheating at cards or or openly bumping into others - making them approach and challenge her. Because of her smaller size and constitution, she would use many dirty tricks and moves to be successful - more often than not she would end up unconscious in an alley, but those times where she won were growing - and on very fortuitous occasions, they would lead to a steamy after-battle celebration with one of the other patrons.

It drowned out her inner doubts, for a while at least. But they pushed at the reaches of her mind, and she slowly craved more and harder fights - by the time she got through Abbhen to Pirate’s Port, she was in need of a real fight to the death - and a local gang could oblige. They needed an enforcer - a brute. Someone to stand by and look intimidating, while they shook down a citizen or two for money. They handed her the scariest-looking weapon they could find, and she immediately joined them. They were mostly mercenaries with less of a moral code - while she didn’t like killing people, she never drew the final breath herself, and what she really loved was the sensation of winning a fight for her life at the hands of someone she was just better than. She loved winning.

Their machinations didn’t last long, however - being such a small gang of mercenaries, they would invariably run up against a challenge that was too much for them, and they ran against it hard. Tracking another gang of more notorious criminals, they were ambushed in the woods - a deadly crossfire rained down upon them as Henri’s gang scrambled for cover, and it was only her distance from them and liberal use of her ranged weapon that Henri managed to get out of it alive. By the end of the fight, there were over 20 corpses on the ground, and Henri was hit again with every doubt that her parents had given her with the force of a bullet.

This isn’t what she wanted. She just wanted fun and games and… if she killed people they would be bad people and the good guys would win and…

She left in disgrace, nursing her damaged ego and personality heavily as she drank her way back through Abbhen. Slowly, she regained her composure, and her love for the fight returned. But buried deep down, she could see it - the dead bodies, and her own, bloody hands. She wouldn’t just be a fighter, she’d be smart about it. That’s what they’d never expect. She’d become the best at it, the best at fighting and shooting, and winning. She wouldn’t lose. The world couldn’t let her - it was her destiny, and the thing that would keep her happy for the rest of her naturally long life. She knew it.

It was a night much like most others. Alaina had just finished another successful bout and she was looking for a good stiff drink outside the Guild. Fortunately, she knew just the place. As soon as she entered the establishment, a cheer roared from some of the other patrons. Immediately, one of the servers brought her an ale. Downing it in one go, Alaina smashed the clay mug on the floor with gusto, prompting another cheer from the crowd. She loved that sound, people cheering for her was as precious to her as her Adoptive Father's love.

"So, who's up for a contest?!" The Wolf asked loudly.

A largish man stood up, "I got a contest for you pretty," He said making a motion to his manhood. "Right here."

The Iron Wolf smiled as she approached the man, several snickers arose from some of the other patrons as she did, they knew what was about to happen. Stepping right up to the man, Alaina looked him right in the eye, "Brother, you couldn't handle...." Taking a couple of steps back, "...this." She gestured all of herself.

Drunkenly, the man reached out for her. Alaina caught his wrist, twisted, and knocked a led out from under him at the same time, sending him crashing into his table. Several laughed uncontrollably as the Ring Fighter made her way to the bar. Getting about halfway there, another table became a pile of kindling. Turning around, she could see some Elf woman bashing a chair over some goon's head. With a smile, Alaina grabbed an ale and started drinking.

Clearly, this Elf knew how to fight, but there wasn't any way she could handle more than what she was facing. Which was about to happen as two more stood up and started walking that way. Finishing her drink, Alaina called out, "Hey, drip and dip, let's keep it fair."

As the two men turned, the Iron Wolf threw her cup and smashed one in the face as she rushed and tackled the other. The entire room erupted into a full out brawl. After the fight, Alaina's adrenaline was racing and there was only one thing to quench it. Looking around, she searched for a.........companion for the night.

This place was nice. Henri could feel the electricity, the sweat and blood pumping in the air, and she knew that it would be a good day. She had chosen this place at random, and it seemed like the chaotic choice was a successful one. Scanning the room, she immediately located a mark - a couple goons, talking to each other, with some ale down but not a ton. They seemed like they would be receptive to a nice game. She rolled the loaded dice around in her pocket. She hadn't gotten a chance to use them yet, and didn't know if they would work. 'No time like the present.' "Oy! Barmaid! Ale for me! And these fine men over here..."

Henri shrugged and gave a large smirk to the muscled man sitting across from her. "The dice fall where they may, my friend! Looks like you're holding on to some of my money." The man growled, and peered down at the two small, metallic dic.

"They're loaded. They've gotta be. No way you could roll 7 that many times." The elf raised her hands, smug grin still plastered across her face.

"You gonna pay up or am I gonna have to beat it out of you?" She stood from her chair, pushing it back and leaning forward.

"You're gonna have to get-" whap! Henri's fist connected with the gambler's face, and as he was reeling, she grabbed the chair out from behind her and slammed him downward onto the table, sending splinters flying across the room. He groaned, regaining his footing.

"Huh, usually that knocks 'em out on the first try." She cracked her knuckles and picked up her mug, still partially full, and weighed it in her hand, gently popping it up and down.

"M... My boys are gonna..." Suddenly, there was shouting from behind, and she turned just in time to see a mug strike another thug in his face, delivered by a muscular woman. As the room erupted in chaos, Henri let out a joyous laugh, lost amongst the sounds of punches and wood breaking.

After the fight, sporting a few fresh bruises and a silly grin, Henri was still completely wired. Today was a good day. But there was one way it could get better...

What PbP post rate best fits your interests and schedule?
I can easily post daily if not more than once daily

When are you most likely to be posting (including time zone)?
I can post pretty much anytime of the day, I am in CST Canada

Do you expect to have any periods when posting is impossible? (And if so, how do you feel about the GM bot-ing your character?)
I cannot for see any errors but things happen, I am ok with GM bot-ing

Do you have experience with PbP?
I am currently involved with a PbP on the forums here right now and in email with some RL friends
How experienced are you with RPGs and what do you most enjoy about them?
I have played table top RPGs for over 12 years not, I enjoy them because they follow a less strict regime than video games and can be more inventive.
Why do you want to play in this game?
This world seems very interesting, I like the limit on magic because it allows other classes to shine, plus it allows casters to feel more rare and special

Why would you be a good fit in this game?
I offer a fun play style and feel that games are best when story driven over just being combat driven.
1-2 character ideas including race, class, country of origin, a short background summary, and personality. Essentially a sense of how they’d fit into and interact with the party.
(Details and crunch are not required - I’m much more interested in choices your character would make, not choices you’d make for stats.)
I picked the Cavalier because they are a class I have never really built or played before, I like the idea of mounted combat because it is different than standard combat. I built him to be all around not overly powerful but able to engage in all aspects of the game if needed. I plan to be a lone Patrol man because the area is severely lacking in man power, I offer protection to caravans coming and going to the town.

Dannieal Vealeric
Human cavalier 3 ( Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide 32)
LN Medium humanoid (human)
Init +3; Senses Perception +7
—————
Defense
—————
AC 18, touch 10, flat-footed 18 (+8 armor)
hp 29 (3d10+9)
Fort +5, Ref +2, Will +2
—————
Offense
—————
Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor)
Melee battleaxe +6 (1d8+3/×3) or
mwk lance +7 (1d8+4/×3)
Ranged throwing axe +4 (1d6+3)
Special Attacks cavalier's charge, challenge 1/day (+3 damage, +0 AC while between target and ward),
tactician 1/day (Shake It Off, 4 rds)
—————
Statistics
—————
Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 13, Cha 13
Base Atk +3; CMB +6; CMD 17
Feats Mounted Combat, Ride-by Attack, Shake It Off UC, Spirited Charge
Traits historian (human - garundi), reactionary
Skills Acrobatics -5 (-9 to jump), Climb +5, Diplomacy +7, Handle Animal +7, Knowledge (geography) +5
(+7 on checks related to selected terrain), Knowledge (history) +6, Knowledge (local) +2, Knowledge
(nature) +2, Perception +7 (+9 in selected terrain), Profession (herbalist) +7, Ride +1, Sense Motive +6,
Stealth -5 (-3 in selected terrain), Survival +3 (+5 in selected terrain), Swim +1
Languages Common, Elven
SQ mount (horse named Herbur), order of the guard, prepared for the journey
Combat Gear oil of magic vestment +1 , potion of cure light wounds (5), acid, acid neutralizer, alchemist's
fire (2), smokestick (3), thunderstone; Other Gear mwk agile half-plate APG, heavy wooden shield,
battleaxe, mwk lance, throwing axe, traveler's any-tool UE, bear trap APG, bedroll, belt pouch, camouflage
nettingUE, chewing stick, comb (0.2 lb), flint and steel, folding shovel UE, hairbrush (0.3 lb), masterwork
backpackAPG, mess kit UE, mirror, nail file (0.1 lb), pot, scissors (0.3 lb), silk rope (50 ft.), soap, soap,
sponge, sun cinder, sunrod (5), tooth powder (0.1 lb), trail rations (5), waterskin, winter blanket, 49 gp, 6
sp
—————
Special Abilities
—————
Animal Companion Link (Ex) Handle or push Animal Companion faster, +4 to checks vs. them.
Cavalier's Charge (Ex) Mounted charge grants +4 to hit and -0 AC rather than +2/-2.
Guard's Challenge +3 (1/day) (Ex) +3 to damage target, -2 AC vs. others when used, +0 morale bonus
to AC as long as you are between your ward and target.
Mount (Ex) Gain the services of a special animal companion.
Mounted Combat (1/round) Once per round you can attempt to negate a hit to your mount in combat.
Prepared for the Journey +2 (Favored Terrain [Cold]) Bonus to Initiative, Know (geo), Percep, Stealth,
and Survival in selected terrain.
Ride-By Attack You can move - attack - move when charging mounted.
Shake It Off Gain +1 to all saving throws per adjacent ally
Spirited Charge Double damage when making a mounted charge (triple with a lance).
p1
Tactician (Shake It Off, 4 rds, 1/day) (Ex) Grant the use of your teamwork feats to all allies in 30 ft.

Dulae was orphaned at a young age. The only memories she has of her parents occur during her darkest dreams; snatches of shadowy figures, blood, and magic, which were quickly forgotten during the light of day. Dulae lived in an orphanage run by the church in the Shining city, and while clothing and food were adequate, there was never quite enough to go around. Like all children in the city, she attended classes to learn of Altien’s greatness and how to live as a citizen. This time of her life imbued Dulae with a lifelong scorn for entitled nobles; the casual cruelty that the noble children heaped on her for her status as an orphan, and the adoration that they received from the other students and the instructors, stoked a fire in her to prove herself better. This fire could very well have turned into bitter hatred if not for the teaching of Altien. She attended services at the Shining Temple whenever she could; the feeling when the priests invoked blessings on the crowds was... sublime. Like a warm tide rising from her heart and suffusing her whole body, bringing peace. It did not erase the anger she felt, but it somehow purified it, stopping it from festering into something ugly. As Dulae grew older and began to recognize how deeply she felt about her faith, she resolved to join the military and become a Paladin.

As soon as she was of age Duale enlisted into the military. She hoped to put behind her the cruelties of children, only to learn that the lessons of childhood ran deep. The names and faces were different, but the condescending scorn of the nasty few was the same. Some of those who had held every advantage, tutors and training from a young age, plentiful food, the best of clothes and equipment, could not bear to see Dulae outdo them, which she did with a passion. During this time she revealed herself to have not just exceptional strength of body, but also an ability in divine magic and a disciplined mind. Her path forward was shattered however when she learned that she could not become a Paladin; despite having the gift of magic from Altien, she had not been offered the Call from her goddess. She was approached the very next day however by a man wearing an officer’s uniform, but with no rank showing. His name was Kieran; he told her that she had a rare type of gift from Altien, one that was shared by a special corps of the military, and one that would see her leaving the general training track at the end of the year. She threw herself back into her training with renewed purpose, and it was lucky she did; only a week before her time to leave she was ambushed by the same cadre of nobles that she was now outdoing, and she was nearly killed in the ensuing fight. Dulae never learned what happened to those who attacked her, as Kieran appeared the next day to remove her. Her new training was much different from before; the sole focus of her superior, she studied the art of working independently, rather than in an army.

Dulae Toema, now retired from her military career, is in many ways the same person she has been since her time as an orphan on the streets of the shining city: a devout follower of Altien who can’t seem to be meek enough to satisfy those who demand she stay in her place.