GM Tallgrass' Crypt of the Everflame (Inactive)

Game Master GM Tallgrass

As for your background, put as much or as little effort into fleshing that out as you want. I prefer characters with deep backgrounds, but also understand the effort associated with building something creative/interesting. If you have one you'd like to share, great! If not, no worries.

1. Pick a Class. All Paizo-created classes are acceptable.
2. The adventure takes place in Kassen. All characters should have some sort of tie to the town and should be living in the town when the quest starts. Were you born there or are you newly arrived?
3. What will your character contribute to the party in and out of battle?
4. (Optional) What is your character's backstory?

1. All characters begin at level one.
2. 20-point ability buy.
3. Non-evil alignments.
4. Core races only. Unless you have a really interesting concept using a Featured race from the ARG. Uncommon and Custom races won't be accepted. Sorry.
5. All Paizo-created classes are acceptable.
6. Two traits.
8. Average gold for your class.
9. Max HP at level one, roll or 1/2 HD + 1 thereafter.

Born to a Common Laborer, who sometimes worked the meager docks of kassen for the river trade. Some Called Trace's father a Fisher, some called him a hunter and some called him a dockworker. Trace learned to ply his roguish skills at an early age as he did not have the seriousness of his father and would rather lay about than work as hard to provide as his dad did.

Trace's father demanded Trace go with him when he He went hunting in the early morning or fishing, depending on the season. Trace was an apt pupil even if he did not want to follow in his dad's footsteps.

However one lesson he did learn well..He learned to be quick..or hed be dead.

a few years ago, when Trace was 14, his father died in from wounds received by a Boar on a hunt. Trace blamed himself for not taking the hunt seriously as his father died keeping the boar from goring Trace.

From that point on something changed in the young man and he began to work hard to provide for his family, by hard work or by other means, as needed. He would take no insult of his family. He began to do odd things at the docks..and soon had a reputation for one who could 'get things done' If asked "I'm a Dockworker, like my dad." Now at 17 he has two brohers and two sisters, ages- 15 (sister) 14 (brother) 13 (sister) and 12 (brother). Trace has learned that there may be money to be made adventuring...great risk certainly..but the money would be well received by his needy family. And just maybe he might make enough to get his family away from Kassen and into a bigger city where they could find a beeter chance at success.

He counted heads, one-two-three-four, they were all present. His brother had come home with a black eye and missing the money Trace had given to him to get vegetables at the farmers market this morning. Now it was time to get it back and teach them to not mess with his family.

He did not want to bring the constable down on him, so he could not kill any of them, but that did not mean he couldnt effectively end their days of bullying. Like a wraith he slipped down the side street and came upon them quickly, switching the blade inward he shoved the pommel in the back of the largest of the boys, causing him to gasp in pain and drop to a knee.

In the dark he quickly brouht the pommel hard against the temple of the downed boy, since he had surprised them and was quicker to react...and that quick he was down to 3 adversaries.

He grinned and said Who gave Jason the black eye His teeth shining feral like in the evening light...

Since childhood, the Nallythep boy had shown a flair for performance coupled with his underlying wonder and charm that caused many to smile but keep quiet of his missing father. He took to the fiddle as quick as he could set his hands on one and delighted to trade a tune or two with the woodworkers for their tall tales of the surrounding forest. There he would sit with instrument laid on his lap, staring up wide-eyed from the tavern floor at the gruff fellows as they spun their yarn. It wasn't long until the town's only true entertainer, Jocyn Elmaran, took a liking to the boy, teaching him the finer points of music in between his bouts of drunkenness.

Old enough now to help his mother with chores and earn some coin helping the lumberjacks, the halfing took to swinging an axe by day and settling into Seven Silvers whenever he had the time in order to receive instructions from his mentor. Often enough, the young fellow would make his way into the establishment, arms tired from a day of woodcutting but still eager to learn his day's lesson. Jocyn found it hard to refuse the aspiring bard and often regaled him with stories to accompany his studies. One such legend was that of Kassen's founding and the wondrous Everflame. Each time the ceremony came, Leifwyck shivered at the thought of joining those proud few who went to relight the flame, seeing it as his first steps as a true hero like those in the tales.

As the days passed, the halfling developed his skills with axe and instrument until he was confident enough to approach the town's mayor. He pleaded with Uptal, showcasing the abilities he had cultivated and practiced over the years. He displayed feats of magic through his music that cause minor illusions to swirl about the air and flicked his axe about to show how able he might be if forced into a fight. Watching all this, the mayor grew weary with the halfling, knowing full well the streak he had within him. All he could offer in the end was his consideration as he shooed the Nallythep lad from his office before anything got broken.

Rogan Fairweight, Dwarven cleric of Abadar (LG)

The Fairweight family have been itinerant merchants for centuries. Typical the eldest sibling will continue running the caravan, while any other children are free to live their lives as they will once they reach their majority. Rogan was the eldest of three, and both his sisters settled in different parts of Andoran as merchants.

While travelling through Nirmathas, Rogan's caravan was attacked and destroyed by a large band of hated orcs. Rogan was knocked unconscious and had a flaming wagon fall on him, and thus managed to avoid being cut to shreds like most of his employees and companions. He was found a day later by a local ranger, who helped him reach the nearby town of Kassen.

After a lengthy convalescence, Rogan is now fit and well, although his wealth is greatly diminished, and he feels a great debt to some of the folks of Kassen that have helped him since he arrived. His feet are itchy, and he is starting to feel stifled by the pleasant comfort and security of Kassen.

Rogan will be able to provide the roles of buffer, support melee and healer. He is also Lawful Good, and, as he is a merciful but courageous dwarf, he will serve as a strong but non-insistent moral compass for the party.

2. Share a brief writing example. This could be your character's backstory, an example from another game you're in or an excerpt from an old term paper (please don't). Just let me see an example of your style.

If Rogan's short backstory is insufficient, I run a Council of Thieves PbP game, and play in a few more (see link below). I'll also pop a little bit of my recently published stuff in another spoiler.

3. Share how often you can post/contribute to the game. I don't want to put unrealistic expectations on the group, but I'd like to shoot for one post per day on weekdays. If we go faster, I'm down with that.

I play quite a few PbPs because I'm often chafing to play! I can certainly commit to at least a post a day.

4. Share how many other PBPs you're currently playing.

I'm GMing a game, and also playing in five current games, all of which typically have a number of days between action. If you'd like to check out any of them, you'll see that I'm a consistent poster. My Campaigns page is here.

Born a fatherless slave in an outlying Reth-Saal settlement, Achaz learned the cruelties of bondage at an early age. At 12 years old, Achaz seized his chance to escape when he tore out his Rubeshi master’s throat with his teeth. Fleeing with his mother, who tragically died along the way, Achaz managed to escape the Ruby Despotate.

Rejoining his ancestral people upon the Rothenian Plains, Achaz thrived in his newly discovered homeland— though his early years had left deep scars. He grew tall and strong, but was consumed with the desires to enrich his people and to eradicate slavery.

When Achaz was 18, a slave raid claimed more than half his tribe, including their Khan. Enraged, Achaz rallied the survivors, inspiring them with his passion and wrath until they followed him after the raiders. Using a furious storm as cover, the Khazzaki, though outnumbered, attacked the slavers. The gods blessed Achaz that day; wherever he rode, the slavers scattered. With victory achieved, the tribe proclaimed Achaz their new leader. Four years later, the 22-year-old Achaz defeated the Khan of Khans to become ruler of all Khazzaki tribes.

Forceful and uncompromising, Achaz inspired the tribes with his visions of glory. As Khan, Achaz led the now-united Khazzaki toward two primary goals: hunting and executing slavers, and plundering wealth and resources from weaker realms.

After three years of battling Rubeshi slavers and raiding lands beyond the Plains, Achaz realized one place— Niemheim—practiced a particularly cruel form of slavery while possessing strange and wonderful treasures. Achaz envisioned himself liberating Niemheim’s gnomes; he assumed he’d later accept glittering rewards from the grateful folk. Whether this was Achaz’s idea or more the result of some devil’s influence Midgard may never know.

After invading Niemheim, despite a hard-fought campaign, Achaz’s advance faltered at Holmgard’s impregnable walls. The siege languished for years before the gnomish king’s messengers reached Achaz. The Khan would earn the gnomes’ fealty, the runners said, if he liberated them from their infernal overlords. And so Achaz stood before Holmgard’s gates and challenged Gorthonak, Duke of Hell, to single combat. Gorthonak accepted.

Resplendent in his mighty armor, his bow Heartbane in hand, Achaz rode to meet the evil duke. From dawn until dusk, the pair traded grievous wounds. Finally, roaring with pain and fury, Gorthonak fled the field and returned to Hell.

Afterward, the gnomes celebrated their liberation with a weeklong feast, where they presented Achaz with their magical Horned Crown as a symbol of his majesty and their loyalty. When the treasure-laden Khazzaki departed from Niemheim, the gnomes smiled and waved farewell; meanwhile, in his infernal palace, Gorthonak laughed with delight—for the Khan of Khans now wore the Horned Crown just as the dark duke had planned all along.

Using the crown’s divinatory powers, Achaz found his desires for wealth and freedom easily realized. With its guidance, he repelled a major Rubeshi offensive, wiped out much of their armed forces, and later relieved the Rubeshi of their slaves and wealth. All was going delightfully well for the Khan of Khans—except that the sentient Horned Crown began demanding human sacrifices for the martial and mental gifts it bestowed.

To appease the crown, Achaz began ordering the execution of captured slavers, Khazzaki enemies, and traitors. As the crown demanded, before their deaths Achaz burned the item’s signet into the condemned’s faces. While Achaz’s victories increased, so did the number who died to please the crown.

Unknown to Achaz, each marked sacrifice sent another soul into the waiting hands of Niemheim’s infernal patrons. The more Achaz gave into its wishes, the more the crown corrupted his mind. It turned his attention away from his people’s needs and toward the slaying of those he deemed unrighteous.

Slowly, like an incessant whisper, the crown used the Khan of Khans’ deep-seated fears of subjugation and poverty to compel him to commit to increasingly evil acts. The more he listened to the crown, the more Achaz’s heart hardened and his wisdom faltered. Khazzaki raids decreased and were replaced with searches for hidden treasures in the barrows of Rhos Khurgan, an ancient place once held sacred.

Years passed. With fewer slavers and foreigners to sate the Crown’s bloodlust, it began pushing Achaz to sacrifice his own people. He eventually declared that even the most trivial crimes would be punishable by death. To enforce his tyranny, at the crown’s suggestion Achaz formed the Bloodriders—an elite, fiercely loyal force of power-hungry warriors and sorcerers. He allowed them to execute anyone they saw fit.

When Achaz demanded the execution of all children born out of wedlock, the enraged tribal Khans objected— but were killed as traitors. Achaz then installed his most powerful and loyal Bloodriders as leaders of those tribes. These new Khans ruled as iron-fisted tyrants; they evoked nearly universal hatred among the people.

Soon, small rebellions began surfacing. The unrest grew until, eight years after Niemheim’s liberation, the proud Khazzaki could endure no more. Siemev the Old, the Plains’ most powerful oracle, gathered the bravest Khazzaki heroes and united them in a vow to kill Achaz and destroy the Horned Crown that had so corrupted him.

Gathering stealthily in Misto Kolis, these heroes struck swiftly and brutally. The city was nearly leveled in the ensuing battle, but on its final day Achaz fell and his Bloodriders scattered. Once a new Khan of Khans was named—Rezim Thikkur—Siemev locked the Horned Crown in an iron chest. He originally intended to destroy the artifact.In the end, though, Siemev hid the crown and layered its resting place with cunning spells and traps.

Upon his defeat, a few of Achaz’s Bloodriders escaped with his body and spirited it away to a secret place. There, they attempted to mummify him—though none present could perform the ritual—and they enchanted his tomb in hopes the corpse would someday rise again.

Today, the Bloodriders exist but remain hidden. Organized into small cells, they dream of the day Achaz might return to restore the Khazzaki to glory. The Bloodriders’ clandestine leader is Rhorak Zenody, the current Khan of Khans’ second-eldest son. Secretly, the Bloodriders search for their beloved leader’s Horned Crown—and for someone with the power to raise Achaz.

But the cobbler responded with hostility. “Get out of my shop or I will cut you open!” he said, brandishing the sharp knife. He momentarily turned his head over his far shoulder and yelled behind him for his sons to assist him. “Gel! Kalrick! Get out here!” Swiftly he turned back to face Colin. “Get out of my shop, you demon! Get out before I gut you!”

Colin momentarily thought of appealing to the man’s reason but he knew it would be futile. “I am sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Onskerin. Please forgive me” he said as he backed out through the doorway with his hands held in a protective manner. “If I leave my shoe on your step would you repair it for me? I will leave your payment here in advance.”

“Leave anything on my stoop and I will burn it!” was the reply.

In truth Colin expected such an outcome. Years earlier Onskerin’s son, Gel, had beaten Colin in a simple instance of bullying. Colin was too frail to put up much resistance to Gel and repeatedly knocked to the ground and kicked. Inexplicably, when Colin was about to lose consciousness, a silver-feathered bird of prey burst out of the sunlight and raked Gel’s face with its talons. Gel cried out and retreated with his arms crossed over his face to ward off the bird. The raptor pressed its attack and pursued the fleeing youth to the end of the lane. It uttered a wholly unnatural screech as it gave chase.

Witnesses claimed that the bird vanished as readily as it had appeared. Most accounts laid the responsibility for the preternatural manifestation on Colin. That such things were not unprecedented in the young man’s presence undoubtedly fortified their conviction that he authored the event. Colin entertained no doubt about his responsibility for the bird but he knew that he exercised no control over its manifestation or its direction. He sighed and picked himself up from the dirt.

The next six years of Colin’s life saw a dozen repetitions of disturbing supernal incidents. The lad grew up lonely and distant from everyone in the village of Kassen. Even his family treated him as warmly as they would a plague-bearer.

Colin’s isolation did afford him the opportunity to delve into books whenever he could find them, though. And the visitors to Kassen’s river-front became the nearly his source of welcome human contact. He took on any odd job that the travelers offered him. The only stipulation Colin would make was that the work could not require him to interact much with the townsfolk.

Colin saved his coins for buying books and curios, anything that purported to deal with magic. Here and there a visitor who claimed to know the workings of arcana would counsel the boy in exchange for some small errand. Most of the proffered knowledge was hokum but, on occasion, he learned something of genuine sorcerous knowledge. These scarce and disparate inklings of true knowledge were enough in combination to grant the youth enough understanding to know that he needed to return to the Vargidan estate. He needed to gain back the ring.