KM Devon's Kingmaker: The Maker of Kings (Inactive)

Game Master PirateDevon

Stopping once again to add notes to her journal under the heading of 'day four', having already filled the first three pages since setting out from Restov, Katja adds a crude sketch of a stand of poplar trees. After letting the ink dry, she closes the journal and packs it snugly away in Vera's saddlebags, then rummages for an apple and deftly cuts it in half, offering one piece to Vera and then biting into the other. "I think we can make it to the trading post if we push a little bit harder." There's nobody to hear her but her pony, of course, but she stokes Vera's mane and then grabs the bridle to gently get her moving again.

The South Rostland Road is barely more than a trail, ill-maintained these days as the Swordlords concentrate efforts on fortifying Restov, but there's hardly a useful landmark in sight on the open plains, and even the Tors of Levenies far to the southeast are barely useful as a navigational guide. All the same, the road only goes in two directions, and as the sun starts sinking into the horizon a few hours later, she finally makes out in the distance the wooden walls of an old fort, surely the trading post at which she's to meet the adventurers Ioseph hired. "See that, Vera? We're almost there, and then it's a proper bed for me and hopefully a nice stable for you!"

Brinn Potts
Female Ifrit Oracle(Dual-Cursed) 1
CG Medium outsider (native)
Init +11; Senses Darkvision 60ft; Perception -1
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 20, touch 13, flat-footed 17
hp 10 (1d8+1+1)
Fort +1, Ref +3, Will +2;
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 20 ft.
Morning Star -3 (1d8+1 20 ×2)

--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 13, Dex 16, Con 12, Int10, Wis 8, Cha 18
Base Atk: +0; CMB +1; CMD 14
Feats: Improved Initiative
Traits: Issian, Dangerously curious
Skills:
+8 Diplomacy (Cha)
+4 Knowledge (Religion) (Int)
+4 Spellcraft (Int)
+9 UMD (Cha)
Languages: Common, Ignan
SQ:
Spell-like: 1/day Burning Hands.
Misfortune (Ex) 1/day per target.
Gear: Morning Star, Heavy wood Shield, Scale Mail, Oracle’s kit(This includes a backpack, a bedroll, a belt pouch, a flint and steel, iron pot, mess kit, rope, trail rations (5 days), and a waterskin.) 31gp.
--------------------
Special Abilities
--------------------
Misfortune (Ex): At 1st level, as an immediate action, you can force a creature within 30 feet to reroll any one d20 roll that it has just made before the results of the roll are revealed. The creature must take the result of the reroll, even if it’s worse than the original roll. Once a creature has suffered from your misfortune, it cannot be the target of this revelation again for 1 day.
Racial Traits:
+2 Dexterity, +2 Charisma, –2 Wisdom: Ifrits are passionate and quick, but impetuous and destructive.
Native Outsider: Ifrits are outsiders with the native subtype.
Medium: Ifrits are Medium creatures and receive no bonuses or penalties due to their size.
Normal Speed: Ifrits have a base speed of 30 feet.
Darkvision: Ifrits can see in the dark up to 60 feet.
Spell-Like Ability: Burning hands 1/day (caster level equals the ifrit's level).

Alternate Racial Trait:
Wildfire Heart: Ifrits with this trait are as swift and dangerous as a blazing wildfire. They gain a +4 racial bonus on initiative checks. This racial trait replaces energy resistance.

Traits:
Issian: You were raised northern Brevoy, a land of misty shores and harsh hill lands, of snowy vistas and violet-hued mountains. You are descended from an able and intelligent people, and you have grand ambitions, a mind alert for opportunity, and the tenacity to fight for your goals no matter the challenge. You care for little more than achieving your aspirations and opportunities to win wealthy and grandeur, for which few costs prove too great. You see yourself as a citizen of Brevoy through and through. The call for champions willing to help take back your country’s rightful holdings in the Stolen Lands has inflamed your dreams of profit and possibilities, so you have joined an expedition to quest south. Your agile mind grants you a +1 trait bonus on all Will saves made to resist mind-affecting effects.

Dangerously Curious: you have always been intrigued by magic, possibly because you were the child of a magician or priest. You often snuck into your parent's laboratory or shrine to tinker with spell components and magic devices, and frequently caused quite a bit of damage and headaches for your parent as a result.
Benefits: You gain a +1 bonus on Use Magic Device checks, and Use Magic Device is always a class skill for you.

Brinn…Brinn…Brinn!

She woke startled. Brinn was used now, hearing those strange voices in her head. Ever since she could remember, they always were there. Always calling, never stopping.

But those last days was a lot worse. The voices were stronger now. She had trouble sleeping. Things started to move mysteriously whenever she was near. Brinn agile fingers were having trouble to get once easy items. And the voices grew louder each day.

Another morning, she went to clean herself. Taking morning baths was her personal joke.
Her red skin and fiery her, prove enough of her ancestry.

Another day at the shop! Lots of things to see and learn!
She loved to help the master creating his magic items. Since long ago, she always were curious about his life style.
He told her that he once was an adventurer, in a proper adventuring party! But that had to be a joke! No way that fatty would have done anything else than sit in his studio all day. Even then, she liked his histories. They were one and all exciting!
It was then when she heard about the expedition quest to the south. Interested she was, really and deeply. But her life style was good. She had friends.

That same day, they were gathered at the meal table, eating lunch, while the owner told one of his hilarious histories, she had already heard this one, but it was fun nonetheless…
Kill him…
”Kill… him?” she looked startled to the owner, the one telling the history.
Everyone else startled looking at her. What was happening? Who said that?
Kill them…

That… isn’t possible! Until now, the voices only called her name! Not even once it spoke anything else than her name!
Without giving any other explanation, she ran out, looking herself in her room, ignoring all questions and surprised looks.

Brinn… You can’t run… You can’t hide…
”No! You are not real! You can’t be real! Go away! Leave me alone!” she cried
Brinn… You can’t run… Your life is ours…
”My life is mine alone! Go away!” she plead.
Outside her door, voices called, she ignored them, as she tried to ignore the voices in her head.
You cannot escape. You cannot ever escape!

Later that same day, strange powers started to manifest within her.
At night, she still was locked in her room, when her arms burst in flames. Such pain as she never felt in her entire live, it was impossible to scream; only pain was real. In her mind, laugher, not only one but several of them. Mocking.

That same night she fled, to join the expedition south. She had no courage to show up in front of her friends with her haunted face and blackened arms.

Brinn is crazy, or at least she thinks she is. She must keep her secrets at all coast.
Even then, she is a charming person, despite her blackened hands. Brinn is a smooth talker and fairly ambitious person, but she is loyal to her friends, and whiling to risk herself for those she love.

Bright red hair that flickers and waves as if it were aflame, slight red skin. Red eyes, pointy ears. She wears revealing and ostentatious clothing in bright oranges and reds colors.

It was morning, Brinn was waiting for her chance to convince the officer she was the right person to this quest. Conquering the south would help Brevoy get back on it’s track and possible end the eminent conflict between the noble families.
You should just lay waste to them.
Brinn ignored the voice, doing her best to remain smiling. After some more time, it was finally her time.
”Hello Miss, I’ll give you this document, you are to fill it with your most relevant skills, and tell us why you think you are the right person for the job.” said the busy looking man
Ignore him. Burn him down and you’ll get their attention…
”Ah, thanks for the opportunity good sir!” she said happily ”I’m sure you’ll see there’s no one better than me, to see Brevoy interest at it’s best!”

Surprised with her enthusiasm the officer asks ”And why is that young lady?”

Don’t waste your time with him, burn him, burn this place!
”Because there’s one thing you can be sure about! Nothing is going to stop me!”

Guaranteed Spot

• Choon: Cuddles, LN male half-orc monk (tetori)

Other Applicants

• Hotaru of the Society: Ary Bishop, LG female human ranger [worships Iomedae]
  
• HarbinNick: Sigrid Trollsblud, CG female human (Ulfen) barbarian
  
• Me'mori: Augrok Manyteeth, NG male half-orc druid (bear shaman) [worships Gozreh]
  
• Calinthas Aldimay: Lucius Baradain, NG male human fighter [worships Erastil]
  
• Seth86: Yuki Tsune, CG female kitsune rogue (kitsune trickster)
  
• Arie IJzer: Ari Urqual, CG male human inquisitor of Cayden Cailean
  
• Brian Baird 35: Borem Falnotas, CG male halfling summoner (master summoner)
  
• KakkarottoZ: Malak Niitei, N male half-orc ranger
  
• PirateDevon: Harsk Ironback, LG male dwarf warpriest of Torag
  
• Inneliese: Katja Raerean, NG female half-elf swashbuckler [worships Falayna]
  
• gossamar4: Akvius_Sirthos, CG male tiefling alchemist (grenadier)
  
• Aku Warashi: Brinn Potts, CG female ifrit dark tapestry oracle (dual cursed (blackened, lame?))

Cander Vitrich was born to two stern traditionalist parents in the south of Brevoy. Traditional Rostlanders and horse farmers, he was raised under extremely high and harsh expectations to hold up the family name and tradition.

Long before they were simple horse breeders and traders, the Vitritch family served under Sirian Aldori when he was still known as Baron Sirian First. When First disappeared into obscurity after losing a duel with the local bandit lord, the family and their horse-based combat style fell from favor. When Aldori emerged victorious years later from creating his new sword style, the Vitritch line had already settled down in a small homestead out of the way of the bandits, breeding horses to trade in order to survive. One day, a lucky ancestor of Cander’s discovered what would be told to his descendants as a mine “lined with the finest gold one had ever seen.” With the confidence of new riches and a head swollen with the possibility of restored status, Cander’s ancestors marched into Baron Aldori’s court, asking to once again rejoin the Baron.

Aldori’s new regime of swordlord had no place for Vitritch “Horseplay.” The family was spat upon for their “desertion” of the Baron’s banner, and were cast back into obscurity when they approached the court, seeking audience with the man they once followed. Grasping at an opportunity for entertainment and challenge in a time of peace, a group of Aldori sword lords and their followers brought conflict to the Vitritch homestead in the Stolen Lands. They offered an ultimatum: Surrender the goldmine, or die. The Vitritch family fled in the night, using their well-honed skills of stealth to escape swordlord eyes, and set up a homestead under a different name upon Rostland’s border.

Despondent, but not defeated, the Vitritch family preserved their traditions in secret, and passed their combat techniques and family birthright onto each successive generation. As time passed, the Vitritch family and their exploits faded from Brevic memory while Baron Aldori’s glory was preserved. While most of the family remained proud of their stoic isolation in the south of the Rostland, Cander’s father was different. He was the first of his line to resent his family’s lack of ambition, instead teaching his children that the combat techniques of their family was squandered in simply protecting the homestead and preservation of tradition. He wanted his eight children to do what he, at his old age, could not: make their mark on the world, and bring the Vitritch name to glory once more!

Cander was his best student among all his sons. Fast, strong, wise, and extremely coordinated, he took to combat as a normal man too to breathing. Cander would have been envied by his brothers and sisters for this prowess, had his father not been all the harder on him for it. Cander was drilled day-in and day-out, constantly confronted with grueling tasks of strength and finesse. His less-gifted siblings looked on in wonder, fascinated not only by the strength and confidence of Cander’s movements, but also the sheer dedication he had for it.

While he succeeded at nearly every exercise, such a training regimen took its toll: Cander’s social growth was somewhat stunted. He didn’t have time to interact with other children or young-people his age under the stern yoke of his father. Because he never argued with his father, and seldom shared much with his brothers and sisters outside of training, Cander never developed a talent for personal interaction. Instead of words, he often responded with action, and when action was not the appropriate response he would often falter. Combat was his strength, not conversation.

This was only reinforced by the family’s conservative interpretation of the God Erastil’s teachings. Cander’s father took his position as head of the household to be a god-given right, and if a decision came from any other source than he, it was wrong and insubordinate. As such, Cander had very little free will of his own, and often deferred to his father’s “wisdom” when trouble reared its ugly head. This is not to say that he had a poor relationship with his father. Quite the opposite. The two were extremely close, but their relationship was a stern one. They loved each other in their own way.

When word came that Restov was looking for adventurers to civilize the Greenbelt and thwart the bandits within, Cander’s father saw his son’s first chance at success. His father filling his head with imagery of honor and glory, Cander was soon convinced to ride towards the small fort known as Olegg’s trading post, seeking redemption of the family name he had always been taught to revere.

Cander is quite green when it comes to adventuring, and will usually resort to action before he resorts to words. His dedication is second to none, but sometimes becomes frustrated when he cannot complete a task as he wished. Despite this, he can be extremely innocent and naïve, sometimes easily fooled by subterfuge and distracted by the shiny (or curvy) things that may come his way. Above all, Cander venerates Erastil, and trusts goodness and order. Should a creature or action seem inclined towards chaos, dishonesty, or evil, Cander will give every effort to change or stop it.

Cander is not short, but not tall either, resting in a build of catlike athleticism that favors sinew over bulk. His upper body is quite tan from practicing in the sun’s rays all of his life, but anyone seeing his legs or feet would know that his skin is originally pale, derived from his Taldan ancestry. Cander’s black hair is messy and uncontrollable by nature, and as such he wears it in a ponytail, under a hat, or using other such methods of restraining his unruly mane. He keeps with him a very practical outfit of earthy tones as one might expect from a Druid or Ranger, topped with a shirt of hide armor and adorned with various forms of weaponry. Under the plain-seeming facade, in the sleeves of his garments lie two spring-loaded wrist-sheathes. One might think that such equipment betrays a deceptive nature, but in fact they serve a more practical purpose: swift access to medium-range ammunition.

”So, boy, you said you were just passin’ through. Where’re you heading?”

Cander was already on his third drink when the barkeep asked him this question. The question that he had hoped someone would ask him on this journey of his. The nineteen year old stumbled to his feet and declared, ”I’m going to The Stolen Lands!”



The entire tavern roared with laughter.

”And what’ll you be doin’ there, young lad? Planting flowers with the fey? Marching with the Mites? Keeping up with the Kobolds?”



”I’m going to settle them, and take down all monsters and bandits with ‘em!”



Now the tavern fell nearly silent. These men were simple. They did not know many things. But one of the things they did know is that in the Greenbelt, it’s humans who are often the greatest monsters.

”Are you sure about that, lad? These are bad times for law and order in The Stolen Lands.”

”Which is why I’ll change them,” Cander replied, and attempted to make a dramatic exit, just like the heroes did in his storybooks.

”BOY GET THE HELLS BACK IN HERE. YOU HAVEN’T PAID YOUR TAB!”

”SORRYSORRYSORRY!" Cander exclaimed, scurrying back to the bar and fiddling with coins before dropping them on the counter. Embarrassed, he then drunkenly sulked his way out of the tavern, hoping that hanging with his horse could cheer him up.

Cander Vitritch
Male Human (Taldan) Monk (Sohei) 1 (Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Combat 0)
LG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +4; Senses Perception +5
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 17, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+3 armor, +4 Dex)
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +4, Ref +6, Will +3
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 30 ft.
Melee lance +2 (1d8+3/×3) and
. . nine-ring broadsword +2 (1d8+2/×3) and
. . unarmed strike +2 (1d6+2) and
. . wushu dart +2 (1d3+2)
Ranged longbow +4 (1d8/×3)
Special Attacks flurry of blows
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 14, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 12, Cha 8
Base Atk +0; CMB +2; CMD 16
Feats Improved Unarmed Strike, Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Ride-By Attack
Traits armor expert, pioneer
Skills Acrobatics +8, Knowledge (religion) +4, Perception +5, Ride +9, Sense Motive +5, Stealth +8
Languages Common
SQ devoted guardian, unarmed strike
Other Gear hide shirt, arrows (20), lance, longbow, nine-ring broadsword, wushu dart (10), spring loaded wrist sheathes (worth 5 gp, 1 lb), spring loaded wrist sheathes (worth 5 gp, 1 lb), heavy horse, monk's kit, saddlebags, 4 gp, 8 sp
--------------------
Special Abilities
--------------------
Armor Expert -1 Armor check penalty.
Devoted Guardian +0 (Ex) At 1st level, a sohei can always act in a surprise round even if he does not notice his enemies, though he remains flat-footed until he acts. In addition, a sohei gains a bonus on initiative rolls equal to 1/2 his monk level. At 20th level, a sohei's
Flurry of Blows -1/-1 (Ex) Make Flurry of Blows attack as a full rd action.
Improved Unarmed Strike Unarmed strikes don't cause attacks of opportunity, and can be lethal.
Point-Blank Shot +1 to attack and damage rolls with ranged weapons at up to 30 feet.
Precise Shot You don't get -4 to hit when shooting or throwing into melee.
Ride-By Attack You can move - attack - move when charging mounted.
Unarmed Strike (1d6) The Monk does lethal damage with his unarmed strikes.

Mina (Horse Gained From Pioneer Trait)
Female Horse
N Large animal
Init +4; Senses low-light vision, scent; Perception +8
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 15, touch 13, flat-footed 11 (+4 Dex, -1 size, +2 natural)
hp 26 (2d8+10)
Fort +8, Ref +7, Will +3
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 50 ft.
Melee bite +5 (1d4+5) and
. . 2 hooves +0 (1d6+2) and
. . unarmed strike +5 (1d4+5 nonlethal)
Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft.
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 20, Dex 18, Con 21, Int 2, Wis 17, Cha 11
Base Atk +1; CMB +7; CMD 21 (25 vs. trip)
Feats Endurance, Run
Tricks Come, Heel, Riding, Stay
Skills Acrobatics +4 (+8 to jump with a running start), Perception +8
SQ riding
Other Gear monk's kit, saddlebags
--------------------
Special Abilities
--------------------
Endurance +4 to a variety of fort saves, skill and ability checks. Sleep in L/M armor with no fatigue.
Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in low light, distinguishing color and detail.
Riding [Trick] The animal has been trained to bear a rider.
Run Run 5x your speed in light/medium armor or 4x speed in heavy armor and keep Dex when running.
Scent (Ex) Detect opponents within 15+ feet by sense of smell.

In the river lands, the tales never begin until our hero disembarks from his boat. Four years ago Raeb stepped off his uncle’s barge at the New Stetven docks. He came from up the East Sellen River, for he was raised in the lands of House Medvyed.

You would like for that to mean something. ”I am of the proud House Garess,” you might say. But I’ll tell you – 90% of all these people pretending to be nobles are nothing more than the lower reaches of a sect. At any moment a vast number of hands wait at the ready to scratch a few pale royal derrieres. Across the board, these people in the lower reaches have to get their arms dirty up to their elbows with the rest of us. That’s been Raeb’s experience so far.

The patriarchs of his clan sent him down to Stetven to earn his keep working for his cousin Yemiclav – a junior barrister of the courts. Yemiclav however, well the man couldn’t argue a dog to the table at dinner. Raeb did well by comparison, but he saw the family for what it was. When you’re in that kind of arrangement you either 1) strike out to set yourself apart from the herd, or you 2) sink into a grey and comfortable little existence.

...
*Nos obriiti contra nee tendtre tantum Sufficimus siiptrat quSniam Fortuna sequamur. Quoque vocat certdmus iter
*( We are neither able to make head against the storm nor even to withstand it since Fortune overpowers us. Let us follow her and turn our course whither she invites us.)

The boy may be a barrister, but he’s not blind you know. As soon as he could, he cut himself loose of Yemiclav and hung up a chalkboard at one of the seedier inns. Well, you could say he stirred the pot a bit. The poor, the quiet, and even the connected people around town valued his perseverance and above all else his discretion in all things. It's all well within the law, apparently.

He told me the other day – his discretion has paid off. There’s word of a few groups headed into the Stolen Lands. That’s right. He may have turned an ear or two. Called in a favor. He says he’s going.
That’ll certainly get his patriarch’s attention, if nothing else has.

Raeb is a shady Barrister & potential Councilor. He is comfortable under pressure on the front line or in the courtroom. LN, he will work with all comers to ensure his family patriarch’s interests are served.

Medvyed & Armor Expert

It was the first cold day of Autumn. Gronk knocked open the door to the Horse’s Replacement and let the heat of the fire wash over him. It seemed early in the season for a fire. Inside, the fat bartender was alone. The "inn" was too small and shoddily thrown together, just like its furniture.

-”Where’s Raeb?” the little man asked.

-Pirgav the human barkeep didn’t even turn around – evidently his mind straining to drunkenly clean a glass at the bar. ”You just missed him. He left about an hour ago for the docks.”

-The halfling barbarian approached. "Raeb is supposed to be here. I have delivery," the halfling managed in accented Taldane.

-The only interior door opened into the dingy overwarm room. In the kitchen doorframe stood a tall young man. "Afternoon Gronk". Raeb proceeded around the bar - wiping soot off his hands using his old brown cape.

-"There you are Raeb." the barbarian seemed relieved. "This man tells me you are not here. I have the paper. We even now. If you want me to kill lying man, then it cost extra favor. You owe me favor again." The halfling moved the envelope behind his back. His gaze locked on Raeb's eyes.

-"No, that won't be necessary this time, Gronk. Thank you." Raeb returned the Barbarian's stare and went down on one knee. "Might I have my papers?"

-"I do not see your blood on these papers. I do not see your sisters dead in the street. Maybe these are not your papers. Maybe you are wrong Raeb. Maybe all these enveliopes go back to nice man at church."(sic) The miniature barbarian shifts his weight and intensifies his attempt to stare down the human.

-Why must they always try to reneige on a deal. Criminals! really? Oh well. Roll Diplomacy 1d20+6=>(20)+6=26.
"Gronk, I'm not the one who killed your family. Do you remember what they did to your girls? Sweet little Gisa? Maglie Pillipudding? Argaret and Syyk? We both profit by this. You are free to enjoy your rightful revenge. Is it really worth trying to squeeze twenty more gold out of your sisters' deaths?

I thought you were a warrior Gronk. Not a lying cheating thief."
Raeb stands up and looks down at Gronk.

-Gronk starts to tear up, and brings the envelope he holds up to his face to blow his nose. "i-I mmiss gg-GIISAAA! BWOOO!(nose blowing)

-Raeb is ready with a handkerchief and quickly trades it for the envelope. "You're alright Gronk. It's okay the bad guys are dead now. I'm your friend, I'm not dead and most importantly, neither are you." Raeb spins and heads over to the fire. Over his shoulder he says, "Pirgav, get this man a drink."

-"Bar's closed." Pirgav mumbles. The barkeep is currently slumped over the glass he was previously cleaning.

-"Wake up Pirgav!" Raeb slit the letter open with a fine blade.

-"Yes boss?" the lump of flesh startled awake.

-"Get the man a drink." Raeb removed the contents of the envelope and cast the empty pouch into the fire.

"Sure Raeb. Anything for a friend." The bartender pulled a (mostly) clean glass down with a clank.

-Raeb stoked the fire higher as he watched the envelope and seal disappear into the ashes. When he left that night, he smelled like sweat and smoke, and he gripped his shield's rim tightly. It was in that gauntlet. The letter taken from him was rolled up. His pending adventure contract was safe, and secure once more.

LN Medium humanoid (human) | HP 13| AC 17; T 11; FF 16| F+5|R+1|W+0(+1 v.fey)
Init +1; Senses Perception +3
DEFENSE
AC 17, touch 11, flat-footed 16 (+5 armor, +1 Dex, +1 shield)
hp 13 (1d10+3)
Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +0

OFFENSE
Speed 20 ft.
Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 15
Melee longsword +4 (1d8+3/19-20)
Melee shield, light steel +0 (1d3+1)
Melee lance +4 (1d8+3/x3)
Special Attacks: Challenge,
STATISTICS Str 16, Dex 13, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 10, Cha 14
Feats Alertness, Armor Proficiency, Heavy, Armor Proficiency, Light, Armor Proficiency, Medium, Martial Weapon Proficiency, Power Attack, Precise Strike, Shield Proficiency, Simple Weapon Proficiency
Skills Acrobatics -3, Acrobatics (Jump) -7, Appraise +1, Bluff +2, Climb +3, Craft (Untrained) +1, Diplomacy +6, Disguise +2, Escape Artist -3, Fly -3, Heal +0, Intimidate +2, Knowledge (Local) +5, Perception +3, Perform (Untrained) +2, Ride +1, Sense Motive +2, Stealth -3, Survival +0, Swim +3
Languages Common, Sylvan
SQ bonus feat, mount, order, order of the lion, skilled, tactician,
Gear longsword; shield, light steel; outfit (traveler's); scale mail; bedroll; candle; holy symbol (wooden); holy text (cheap); rations (trail/per day) (x10); torch (x10); waterskin (filled) (x2); lance;

SPECIAL ABILITIES
Armor Expert You have worn armor as long as you can remember, either as part of your training to become a knight's squire or simply because you were seeking to emulate a hero. When you wear armor of any sort, reduce that suit's armor check penalty by 1, to a minimum check penalty of 0.
Noble Born (Medvyed) Your family has long held a deep respect for the wilderness and is superstitious about the creatures that dwell therein. You gain a +2 trait bonus on all Diplomacy checks made to deal with fey creatures and a +1 trait bonus on Will saves made against their spells and supernatural abilities. Your family motto is "Endurance Overcomes All."
Bonus Feat & Skilled
Challenge (Ex) & Mount (Ex) & Order (Ex) & Tactician (Ex)
Order of the Lion An order of the lion cavalier can make Knowledge (nobility) skill checks untrained. If he has ranks in the skill, he receives a bonus on the check equal to 1/2 his cavalier level (minimum +1) as long as the check involves his sovereign.

Combat Role:
In Combat Kira keeps enemies at a distance While providing her allies with buffs and information.

Leadership Role:
Kira Would Fit the roles of Councilor or Grand Diplomat well, I also plan to take Craft Wondrous item at level 3 so she can help the party that way as well.

Background:
Kira was born in a small lake side village were she grew up, her father was the fisher of the town and she would often join him on his outings but she was a woman of many hobbies. From fishing, exploring, reading, dancing; Kira never seemed to be happy with doing just one thing. Kira slowly began to tire of her home, having explored every where close, read the books they had to offer she often wondered if she would be stuck in the town forever. One day a stranger from the church of Iomedae rode into her town with tales of the lost lands, Kira saw this as the key to her new adventure.

In Character Sample:
Kira sat on the edge of the lake her eyelids slowly rising and falling as she fought off the urge to sleep, the fishing pole in her hand gave a slight tug which snapped her back to the real world, she pulled back in attempt to hook whatever had risked her bait. Her attempt was met with an empty hook flying out of the water, she grumbled as she packed up her gear. "Waste of a day. She began the short trek back to town after nothing but one missed bite during fishing she was getting bored again, it seemed to happen faster and faster every day the town just becoming more part of her daily schedule than an adventure to explore, she wished for something new, something exciting to happen to bring a little more light back to her life.

In Combat: Damage Sponge and Skull Cracker.

Out of combat: Gurog sees himself as a Warrior Poet, as such he has taken profession Poet as well as Linguistics (which he'll continue to learn more languages), he intends to chronicle this journey as a great epic, to spread the name and exploits of the Last Sarkorian, much like Caesar wrote his own memoirs. However, in the mean time, he will perform for his supper, hunt for it if he can't earn it with his eddas, and perhaps do a little creative writing (with legal documents) using Linguistics. And with his Linguistics and Survival, he could probably do alright mapping.

Kingdom: Here's the interesting part, Gurog has been told his whole life that he is the last prince of Sarkoris, the sole remaining male descendant of the line of Sarkorian Kings. Whether this is true or not, is irrelevant, as the young man believes it without doubt. With his Kingdom in ashes, by the Worldwound, he is determined to carve out a new Sarkoris, where strength and honor go hand and hand, So of course, he desires to be ruler, but really, I'll be happy with any role that allows for Charisma or Strength, as those will be my main stats, along with constitution.

Greatsword - 50gp, Studded Leather Armor - 25gp, Dagger - 1gp, 3 Javelins w/ Ammentums - 6gp, Barbarian's Kit - 9gp, Chronicler's Kit - 40gp, Remaining Tender 19gp.

NG, Traits Berserker of the Society and Bastard - to go with him believing he's the lost scion of the Sarkorian Line.

As I said above, Gurog is a Kellid, who believes himself the last scion of the long-lost Sarkorian bloodline. And he's not without reason. For the majority of his life, his mother, Maori, has shared with him the story of how his family survived the fall of Sarkoris as a result of the Worldwound, how his great-great Grandfather had rallied a small number of his fellow Kellid's in an exodus across the abyss-blasted wasteland that was once his home. And she had small trinkets that reinforced her story. Signet Rings that appraisers refused to call fakes, authentic Zoic totems from that period of time. She even had a Holy Text of Pulura, the Empyreal Lord Patron of Sarkoris, who's cult died out after the fall of this Barbarian Kingdom.

And there were the visitors. Old men, wise Kellid shamans and elders, who would arrive unannounced and demand to test the boy and when he passed, to share stories with him of his ancestors — men they claimed to serve, teach him the fundamentals of leadership, of strategy and tactics, as well as how to wield a weapon. All while admonishing him not to share his story with any save his own offspring, not to demonstrate his prowess with a blade unless his life depended on it and to stay relatively unknown. As it was the only way to stay safe.

But above all else, a ceremony when he was 15. A group of renowned warriors from the Sloth Jaw Mammoth Lord Tribe arrived and honored him with the tribal scars of their clan, as if to seal some sort of pact.

But despite the teachings of these so-called elders, despite the admonishment of his mother, or perhaps because of the sense of birthright they installed in him, when the call to tame the Greenbelt went out, Gurog was among the first to volunteer.

Anton Marakov
Male Human (Taldan) Wizard 1
NG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +3; Senses Perception +1
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 12, touch 12, flat-footed 10 (+2 Dex)
hp 6 (1d6)
Fort -1, Ref +2, Will +3
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 30 ft.
Melee dagger +0 (1d4/19-20) and
. . quarterstaff +0 (1d6)
Ranged light crossbow +2 (1d8/19-20)
Wizard Spells Prepared (CL 1st; concentration +6):
. . 1st—color spray (DC 15), enlarge person{super}S{/super} (DC 16), mage armor
. . 0 (at will)—detect magic, light, read magic
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 10, Dex 15, Con 9, Int 19, Wis 12, Cha 11
Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 12
Feats Combat Casting, Scribe Scroll, Spell Focus (transmutation)
Traits arcane temper, noble born - lebeda
Skills Appraise +8, Knowledge (arcana) +8, Knowledge (history) +8, Knowledge (local) +8, Knowledge (nobility) +8, Linguistics +8, Spellcraft +8, Survival +1 (+3 to avoid becoming lost when using this)
Languages Celestial, Common, Draconic, Elven, Gnome, Hallit, Sylvan
SQ arcane bonds (arcane bond [object]), opposition schools (enchantment, necromancy), physical enhancement, specialized schools (transmutation), telekinetic fist
Other Gear crossbow bolts (10), dagger, light crossbow, quarterstaff, bedroll, belt pouch, blanket, candle (10), chalk (5), compass, flint and steel, ink, black, inkpen, journal, sewing needle, silk rope (50 ft.), soap, spell component pouch, spellbook, trail rations (10), waterskin, 44 gp, 6 sp, 3 cp
--------------------
Special Abilities
--------------------
Arcane Bond Use object to cast any spell in your spellbook 1/day. Without it, Concentration required to cast spells (DC20 + spell level).
Combat Casting +4 to Concentration checks to cast while on the defensive.
Compass +2 circumstance for Survival or Knowledge (Dungeoneering) to avoid becoming lost.
Enchantment You must spend 2 slots to cast spells from the Enchantment school.
Necromancy You must spend 2 slots to cast spells from the Necromancy school.
Physical Enhancement +1 (Dexterity) (Su) +1 bonus to physical ability, +1 per 5 levels (change per day).
Spell Focus (Transmutation) Spells from one school of magic have +1 to their save DC.
Telekinetic Fist (7/day) (Sp) 30' ranged touch attack, 1d4+0
Transmutation Transmuters use magic to change the world around them.
--------------------
Pale for a Taldan, and with a name more grand than his appearance, Anton is a thin and reedy man, frail and bookish even by a wizard's standards. Standing just over six feet tall, with straight black hair pulled messily off his face, wearing faded robes patched in several places, he nonetheless carries a cunning intellect in his pale blue eyes - an intellect that has served him well in his studies of the universe, its rules, and the art of bending them.

Born in Restov, distantly related to House Lebeda (but really, who didn’t have a claim to a noble house?), Anton discovered his talent for wizardry at a young age, poring over dusty tomes his father had collected from his own adventuring days. Taking it upon himself to tutor the boy, Anton’s father schooled him in the arts of magic, teaching him his first cantrips, and finally sending the boy on his way, armed with the knowledge he'd need to survive. His only wish was that his son be an adventurer, like he himself had been.

However, the young Anton soon found himself a liability. He joined various adventurers - small-time groups - and spent a few years sneaking into bandit camps, defeating bandits, taking treasure from bandits - small jobs that, while lucrative, weren't exactly thrilling. And the more he travelled, the more self-aware Anton became of his own physical weakness - his meager strength, his perpetually dry lips, the hacking cough that came and went, seemingly without reason. His body was weak, and physical weakness could only lead to mental weakness...

It was this revelation that led Anton to the study of transmutation magic. Hopefully, by mastering this art, he can overcome the weaknesses of his physical form. And with this newfound determination, Anton packed his bags and petitioned for a charter, joining a fledgling group of adventurers headed for the wilderness...

The cough comes again, rising in his chest before he has a chance to stop it, to smother it, to force it back down to the place from which it had arisen.

The sickly young man grips the edge of his writing-desk as his chest spasms, forcing horrible fluids from his lungs, shaking his torso wth the deep hacks that always marked these fits. His eyes snap shut, blocking out the ink of his scroll, the flickering flame of his candle; all the exists is the cough, the pain, the horrible feeling that this time will be the last time.

It seems to last for hours. It always does.

When it finally ends, Anton Marakov, scholar and scribe, pulls himself to his elbows from his resting-place on the floor. Blood speckles the handkerchief he tenderly draws away from his cracked, aching lips. His chest still quivers and shudders as he draws breath - but he draws breath still.

Shaking, he stands, closes his bottle of ink, blows out the candle, and retires for the night.

As the cold grey dawn creeps through his bedroom window, Anton slumbers, thankful for another day, and another chance to become better.

Katya was born into House Sokholov—a minor house based in New Stetven but with origins further north in Port Ice. House Sokholov was firmly aligned with House Rogarvia, and their chief business was in transport.

As an only child, Katya’s parents allowed her significant latitude. Thus she found herself roaming the streets of New Stetven, often associating with rough-and-tumble youths who had no idea about her noble origins. In her hours of freedom, she explored the rooftops of the city (trait: soaring sprinter; skill points: acrobatics, climb), and got into no shortage of strife, but her familiarity with her surroundings (skill point: Knowledge (local), quick mind (INT: 14) and quicker feet (DEX: 18) kept her out of any serious trouble—save for a budding childhood crush on a street boy named Alexei, who Katya’s parents sternly warned her to stay away from once they found out.

All that changed when she was ten. House Sokholov’s fortunes were middling at best. Katya’s parents were capable administrators, but hardly the entrepreneurial type. Over time, House Sokholov’s business had been slowly eroded by competing transport outfits that were able to gain lucrative contracts by undercutting House Sokholov’s prices, or providing better services than House Sokholov could afford.

In Katya, the Baronet Sokholov and his wife saw an opportunity to rectify the House’s circumstances, and so when she turned ten, they made a decision to invest their remaining money in a thorough education for their daughter in the hopes that she would be able to accomplish what they felt they could not.

Within weeks, Katya had swapped smudges of dirt for smudges of ink; swapped a pilfered hunk of cheese eaten hastily beneath a cart for a weighty, dusty book read doggedly by lamplight; and swapped the company of a riotous cacophony of youths for that of a dry, persistent, but friendly tutor who did his level best to give Katya the broad education her parents wanted.

You might think Katya’s sudden change of circumstances would awaken a rebellious streak, but she grew to love knowledge. It thrilled her that she was reading words that had sometimes been written decades before she was born, information that others had carefully curated and preserved so she could at any given moment be learning about anything in the world, and beyond.

Katya’s education equipped her with a great deal of knowledge and skills. She learned about the nobility, about the history of Brevoy and the surrounding lands; she learned new languages, and learned to appreciate the differences in culture of the various nations and races around the world, and that she would need to hone all of these skills--especially her ability to read people and close trade deals--if she was to provide for her House. She also learned about the history of her own House--how determination and single-mindedness were her birthright as an Issian--and gained an appreciation for the value of careful planning and preparation. (Skill points: knowledge (nobility, geography), linguistics; languages: Hallit, Celestial, Skald, Varisian, Draconic; feat: Cosmopolitan (Diplomacy & Sense Motive); alternate racial trait: focused study; trait: Issian.)

By the time she was in her mid-teens, Katya had been transformed from a rough-and-tumble little girl to a fiercely intelligent young woman, albeit still with a strong independent streak. Memories of her earlier adventures with Alexei and his friends lay abandoned in her mind.

Then came the Vanishing.

Overnight, everyone from House Rogarvia vanished as though they’d never existed. Some others were taken as well. In the chaotic year that followed, New Stetven convulsed as though fighting off a fever; gangs roamed the streets and Katya was forced to defend herself more than once.

It all came to a head for Katya eight months after the Vanishing, when she and her parents were ambushed by a gang of young men wielding cudgels. The boys were on the noble family before Katya even had time to shout for the watch, but what was worse was the realisation that above the kerchief tied around the nose and mouth of the gang’s leader were the eyes of the boy she had been infatuated with as a child: Alexei.

Then he was gone.

Katya was left lying on the street, bruised, bloodied, and broken.

Her mother died the next morning.

The following few years remain a blur in Katya’s memories. She struggled, with her father, to hold the House’s fortunes together, but her father’s heart simply wasn’t in it any more. When House Surtova took the throne, they made a point of destroying the fortunes of a few Houses closely allied to the Rogarvias--those with few supporters and little to contribute. House Sokholov was near the top of the list. After a list of trumped-up charges put her family out of business for good, Katya and her father were left all but penniless.

Katya swallowed her pride and her family name, and took a job working for the watch.

Over the years she worked on the watch, Katya learned how to fight, gained muscle (STR: 14), and discovered she was most effective in a fight with weapons she could use with her natural agility (feat: Weapon Finesse). Her intelligence, however, never left her, and she soon learned to combine the two (class: fighter; archetype: lore warden). She also gained even more appreciation for the city she lived in, and the people who called it home (focused study bonus feat: Skill Focus (knowledge (local)), as well as a nose for trouble (trait: seeker). Katya grew to enjoy her time as a watch officer, and bit by bit, she scrimped and saved until she had a decent amount of money set aside that she hoped to use as a seed to start a new business with her father.

Then, on the Night of the Pale, tragedy struck.

On patrol, Katya and her fellow watch soldiers came across a group of men who had cornered a young couple on their way home from one of the ubiquitous feasts. Shouting for them to disperse, Katya and her companions raced to aid the couple, but rather than run, the gang stood and fought.

Katya found herself face-to-face with Alexei for only the second time since her tenth birthday.

When the fight was over, Katya lay bleeding from a stab wound in her abdomen and Alexei was dead.

Although Katya recovered from her physical wounds, her mental wounds were much more severe (drawback: lovesick). Only a couple of months after Alexei’s death, Katya heard word of a charter from the Swordlords, inviting interested parties to make their way south into the Stolen Lands. Needing to get away from New Stetven, Katya jumped at the chance; after leaving her nest egg with her father to support him while she was away, she made her way down to Restov without delay to present herself as a candidate. And to try to get as far away from Alexei’s memory as she possibly could.

Katya is on the tall side for a woman at 5'8", but is slim and athletic. She has an unruly mane of auburn hair that she ties back when she expects trouble.

Practical to a fault, she typically wears woollen leggings, ankle boots, and a shirt. Her armour is a set of segmented studded leather with a segmented leather skirt, and a fully articulated segmented arm guard on her left arm. She also has brown leather gloves.

She carries a shortsword in a scabbard on her right hip and a number of daggers in various places around her body. She carries a shortbow, and a small razor (stats as kerambit) tied into her hair--she hopes that if she is ever captured, the tiny weapon will be overlooked.

Strangely, she carries another shortsword on her left hip, but it is peacebonded: sealed with wax and tied into its scabbard with a red ribbon. She also wears a red kerchief around her neck.

Katya’s a no-nonsense kind of person. She doesn’t suffer fools gladly, and is keen to see that something is always happening. She can be impulsive sometimes, but usually has the intelligence to make decisions on the fly that don’t cause too many problems.

Katya’s bruised sense of self is in need of serious rehabilitation. She is still broken up about killing her childhood friend--someone who, had her and his lives been different, might have been a husband one day--and is locked in a cycle of mourning for a life she will never get to experience. Breaking her out of that cycle is a significant part of her character growth. (In other words, I’d love to see her be able to ditch the lovesick drawback--GM permitting--if she found someone to replace Alexei in her thoughts. I did consider giving her a goal of resurrecting Alexei, but that seems a little far-fetched for a childhood crush and would make her seem just a little bit obsessive, methinks. I’ve also left Alexei’s surname deliberately vague; perhaps he was related to one of the other PCs somehow?)

In Combat
Katya is a support combatant with a reasonable AC (although having it boosted magically would always help since she can’t wear medium or heavy armour) and a middling to low damage output, but the focus is going to be on control through tripping and disarming. Combat Expertise and fighting defensively is definitely an option to give the party some time to move, and she will always be happy to provide flanking for rogues or interpose herself between the pointy things and the squishy party members. She’s not meant to be a massive damage-dealer (this is a thoroughly sub-optimal path for that!) but she is meant to be someone whose absence is more obvious than their presence on the battlefield.

Out of Combat
Katya would probably look to fill the role of Warden in a leadership sense, although her background makes her capable of acting as Marshal, Councilor, Grand Diplomat, or Treasurer. (Even though she wouldn’t be terribly effective on an ability score basis as the Councilor, she does have the necessary skills to fill the position.) Her most mechanically sensible positions would be Marshal, Royal Assassin, or Spymaster, but the last two would go against her ethics.

Leaving that aside, she would look to act as peacemaker and researcher. She would argue on behalf of the common people most of the time, and would do her best to recognise the existing residents of the Greenbelt. Her no-nonsense approach to developing solutions would probably come in handy, as well as her willingness to use common sense with anyone and everyone, regardless of their station.

An atavistic scream escaped Katya’s lips as she dragged herself across the frigid cobbles towards Alexei’s body. She knew at least one rib was cracked, and every ragged breath of chill night air sent needles through her lungs and a hammer blow of pain through her side. Her left hand she kept pressed to the wound in her abdomen, although by now her hand was slick with blood and it kept sliding around despite her best efforts to keep it in place. With her right, she grimly sought another fingertip hold on the uneven street surface, and dragged herself another foot closer--and screamed, again.

Somewhere deep in her mind, a thought bubbled up and eventually reached the surface: The Midnight Lord must surely be enjoying the show I’m putting on for him right now, on his night of nights...

She’d sent Artur back to the garrison to get help--mainly because he was the only one left standing, but also because she needed to be alone for this. One more pull, and she be there.

She stretched out her right hand again, tremulously, and snagged the corner of Alexei’s leather coat.

With one final heave, Katya hauled herself up like a breaching whale, and flopped down across Alexei’s body. Another scream escaped her lips, but her mouth was pressed onto Alexei’s chest by now.

His flesh was already starting to cool.

Shakily, she did as much as she could to push herself up. The best she could do was to get herself into a position where she was looking almost directly up his nose. I guess at least I don’t have to look into his eyes, she reflected. The crimson kerchief that had covered his face had slipped down around his neck.

Mustering the last reserves of her failing strength, she managed to croak out a few words. Alexei couldn’t hear them, but she needed to say them anyway.

Why, Alexei? Why? You and I were kids together, once. I...you...I just... She trailed off, uncertain.

I might have loved you, she said finally, little more than a whisper.

With one last effort, she clasped her hand around the kerchief that encircled Alexei’s neck, and pulled as hard as she could. It came undone more easily than she expected, and she rolled right off Alexei’s body to slam onto the uneven cobbles. Any pain from her abdominal injuries were quickly superseded by the explosion of stars in her head. She balled her hand into a fist, holding Alexei’s kerchief, and then allowed herself to slide into the blessed embrace of unconsciousness.

I have yet to sort out her gear, but there won’t be much of note beyond the usual backpack-bedroll-rope-etc.

Katya Sokholov
Female Human (Taldan) Fighter (Lore Warden) 1 (Pathfinder Campaign Setting: Pathfinder Society Field Guide 0)
NG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +4; Senses Perception +5
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 17, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+3 armor, +4 Dex)
hp 10 (1d10)
Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +0 (+1 trait bonus vs. mind-affecting effects)
Resist issian
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 30 ft.
Melee dagger +5 (1d4+2/19-20) and
. . kerambit +5 (1d3+2/×3) and
. . shortsword +5 (1d6+2/19-20) and
. . shortsword +5 (1d6+2/19-20)
Ranged shortbow +5 (1d6/×3)
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 14, Dex 18, Con 10, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 10
Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 17
Feats Cosmopolitan[APG], Skill Focus (Knowledge [local]), Weapon Finesse
Traits issian, seeker, soaring sprinter
Skills Acrobatics +7 (+9 to keep balance or jump), Climb +5, Diplomacy +4, Knowledge (geography) +6, Knowledge (local) +9, Knowledge (nobility) +6, Linguistics +6, Perception +5 (+3 while away from your love interest)
Languages Celestial, Common, Draconic, Hallit, Skald, Varisian
SQ lovesick
Other Gear studded leather, arrows (40), dagger (8), kerambit, shortbow, shortsword, shortsword, 49 gp
--------------------
Special Abilities
--------------------
Issian +1 Will save vs. Mind-affecting.
Lovesick (Alexei ???) If you are away from your love at the beginning of a day, -2 initiative and perception
Soaring Sprinter +2 bonus on Acrobatics checks to keep your balance or jump.

• Hotaru of the Society: Ary Bishop, LG female human ranger [worships Iomedae]
  
• Choon: Cuddles, LN male half-orc monk (tetori)
  
• HarbinNick: Sigrid Trollsblud, CG female human (Ulfen) barbarian
  
• Me'mori: Augrok Manyteeth, NG male half-orc druid (bear shaman) [worships Gozreh]
  
• Calinthas Aldimay: Lucius Baradain, NG male human fighter [worships Erastil]
  
• Seth86: Yuki Tsune, CG female kitsune rogue (kitsune trickster)
  
• Arie IJzer: Ari Urqual, CG male human inquisitor of Cayden Cailean
  
• Brian Baird 35: Borem Falnotas, CG male halfling summoner (master summoner)
  
• KakkarottoZ: Malak Niitei, N male half-orc ranger
  
• PirateDevon: Harsk Ironback, LG male dwarf warpriest of Torag
  
• Inneliese: Katja Raerean, NG female half-elf swashbuckler [worships Falayna]
  
• gossamar4: Akvius_Sirthos, CG male tiefling alchemist (grenadier)
  
• Aku Warashi: Brinn Potts, CG female ifrit dark tapestry oracle (dual cursed (blackened, haunted))
  
• Tassadan: Cander Vitrich, LG male human monk (sohei) [worships Erastil]
  
• Archpaladin Zousha: Kazimiera 'Aldori', LG female human paladin (oathbound?) of ???
  
• trux: Raeb Lerrah, LN male human cavalier (order of the lion)
  
• Pathfinder Zoey: Kira Holt, CG female human bard
  
• P33J: Gurog Stihlgard, NG male human barbarian (invulnerable rager) [worships Pulura]
  
• El Ronza: Anton Makarov, NG male human (Taldan) wizard (transmutation school)
  
• cynarion: Katya Sokholov, NG female human fighter (lore warden) [worships Sarenrae]
  
• Cuàn: Leandric Garess, LG male human arcanist

Born in Grayhaven Leandric grew up among both humans and Dwarves. His mother being a second cousin of Lord Howlan Garess he always was out of the picture for a role of any import within the family. While that did not stop him from trying his heritage always turned against him, always being passed over for family closer to the head of the House.

When the Vanishing happened when Leandric was twelve most of the Dwarves vanished and with them went house Garess' largest source of income. The more important thing for Leandric though was the vanishing of his teachers, both when it came to magic and when it came to engineering. Now stuck with only his books to learn from. With no teachers guiding him along the standard paths he quickly tread outside them eventually combining both. With his more mathematical approach he managed to outwit and outmatch his former fellow students.

To his dismay this actually worked against him as some of his fellows actually held a higher position within House Garess. Out of spite over being surpassed by their lesser cousin they went out of their way to hinder Leandric's attempts at getting work. Even orders he had already gotten were then retracted due to the actions of jealous cousins.

Desperate for a chance to prove himself he eventually signed up for the exploration and taming of the Stolen Lands. Happy to get him out of town and out of the way his cousins actually made sure he would be one of those sent to the Green Belt.

Without the funds to buy his own horse the easiest way to get to the Greenbelt was by tagging on on the only supply caravan going there who supplied a trade post run by a man called Oleg and his wife.

It had been a long day. Once again a contractor had withdrawn at the last moment. He didn't have to ask to know who were behind it all.

He did not have to say anything for his father to understand what had happened, "Why did you have to piss them off son? Couldn't you just have held your head low, kept your skills for yourself." Before Leandric even got the chance to react his mother butted in, protecting him like she always did.

"You are both correct. I should have kept my mouth shut and my head low, but I can't and you know it." He sighed, "Dad, I think I'll take your friend up on that deal he offered, the stolen lands can't be worse than this place."

His mother rushed over, "Are you sure dear? You can always work with your brother."

Leandric gave his mother a surprised look, "Mother, I'm not working as a carpenter, I'm not a carpenter. Don't worry about me, I will be save there. There are plenty of others going including more bulky, brawny types, it'll be just fine. I'll send you a letter once I arrive." He had no idea how yet, but the thought alone would help sooth his mother.

His father grinned, "I'll notify him. He'll want to meet you tomorrow I think, give you the charter if he thinks you're up to it."

Leandric smiled, "Thank you father. Once we established a foothold I'll send for you, than you can both come over, see what your son has made."

Brandt Osmundsson
Human (Ulfen) Samurai (Sword Saint) 1 (Pathfinder Player Companion: Dragon Empires Primer 0; Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Combat 18)
CG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +3; Senses Perception -1
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 17, touch 12, flat-footed 15 (+5 armor, +2 Dex)
hp 11 (1d10+1)
Fort +2 (+2 circumstance bonus vs. cold weather), Ref +2, Will -1
Defensive Abilities resolve
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 20 ft.
Melee dagger +5 (1d4+4/19-20) and
. . katana +5 (1d8+6/18-20)
Ranged shortbow +3 (1d6/×3) and
. . throwing axe +3 (1d6+4)
Special Attacks challenge, iajutsu strike
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 18, Dex 14, Con 10, Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 14
Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 17
Feats Furious Focus[APG], Power Attack
Traits brigand, veteran of battle
Skills Bluff +6, Craft (stonemasonry) +5, Diplomacy +6, Intimidate +6 (+7 when at or above maximum hp), Knowledge (local) +5, Survival +3; Racial Modifiers brigand
Languages Common, Skald, Tien
SQ flame's skills, glorious challenge, orders (order of the flame)
Combat Gear oil (3); Other Gear scale mail, arrows (20), dagger, katana, shortbow, throwing axe, artisan's tools, backpack, masterwork, bedroll, belt pouch, blanket, flint and steel, furs, grappling hook, iron holy symbol (Gorum), lamp, mess kit, pot, hemp rope (50 ft.), soap, trail rations (5), waterskin, 27 gp, 4 sp, 9 cp
--------------------
Special Abilities
--------------------
Brigand +1 Bluff, Diplomacy, Intimidate, and Sense Motive when dealing with brigands, theives, bandits, etc.
Flame's Challenge +1 (1/day) (Ex) +1 to damage target, -2 AC vs. others when used, can issue glorious challenge.
Flame's Skills +1 +1 bonus to intimidate when at or above maximum hp.
Furious Focus If you are wielding a weapon in two hands, ignore the penalty for your first attack of each turn.
Furs +2 Fort vs. Cold Weather (does not stack with Survival skill's bonuses)
Glorious Challenge If drop challenged foe, free challenge vs. new foe in 15 ft with stacking -2 AC & +2 dam.
Iajutsu Strike +1d6/-4 AC (Full-round) (Ex) Draw sword as strike challenged foe for extra dam, but take AC penalty for 1 rd. You can use this once per foe, each day.
Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
Resolve (1/day) (Ex) Your resolve can remove effects or reroll saves.
Veteran of Battle +1 Initiative, draw a weapon as a free action during the surprise round.

Growing up the son of Osmund Arngeirsson, the Gorum worshiping proprietor of a small trading post/inn in the extreme northeast of the Lands of the Linnorm Kings, is a truly isolated life. The vast majority of the patrons of the inn were the few local farmers seeking to buys supplies or sell their goods to one of the infrequent merchants traveling upriver in the warmer months. Far more interesting were the exceedingly infrequent travelers crossing the frozen crown of the world from Tian Xia. One such traveler was a man by the name of Hatagiri Habate, a disgraced samurai from Minkai. Habate refused to commit Seppuku when his lord was slain in battle and was forced to flee to Avistan to evade the samurai who wanted his head. He sensed the possibility within the young son of the innkeeper, and deciding that this was as good a place as any, received permission from Osmund to train the boy. So it went for ten years: days learning a trade, stoneworking in Brandt's case, and evenings of working the blade, bow, axe, and dagger. Finally, Habate judged the young Ulfen man ready, and with Osmund's blessing, bid him to go out and make his name, katana in hand.

As Brandt traveled, he found he had a natural way with most people, and those he didn't usually ended up in a duel with the brash young man. Though he received many a scar, he lost only a few times. The style of warriors of his homeland had grown stale, so Brandt combed the taverns for rumors of more warriors he could duel, eventually hearing of the Aldori Swordlords of Brevoy. After many months on a series of ships and river boats, Brandt had finally arrived. It didn't go as planned, however. The Swordlords laughed off the Ulfen man's requests to duel and train, calling him a country bumpkin, or a savage. Having spent all his money on the ships here, and without his father's stoneworking tools, Brandt had hoped to earn money winning duels. The proud young man was reduced to banditry, though he refused to prey on the poor. One day, he found a small group of bandits doing exactly that on one of the main roads near Restov. In a moment of sheer idiocy, he challenged the bandits to fight him, one at a time. The four bandits attacked him en masse instead. He slew two of the men before being struck down.

He awoke in an unfamiliar bed. As he learned shortly thereafter, a patrol of guardsmen had come upon the fight just as he went down, and killed the remaining bandits. The people Brandt had attempted to save from banditry vouched for him, and the guards took him to a temple in Restov for healing. The Swordlords, impressed by his valor, offered him a part in their expedition to the Stolen Lands, which he happily accepted.

The man before you appears to be a common Ulfen warrior, and like many of his brethren he stands over 6 feet tall, with long hair braided at the temple to keep it from his face. Piercing blue eyes look out from a young but weathered face that has more than a few scars on it. His heavily muscled frame is covered with well made but plain clothing, leathers, and furs, beneath a similarly plain set of scale mail. He bears many traditional Ulfen weapons: a short bow, a dagger, and a small axe, but the curved blade at his hip is decidedly of foreign make. A brown fur-lined cloak with a deep hood completes the young warrior's appearance.

In combat Brandt is a front line damage dealer, specializing in defeating one foe at a time. His first attack against a challenged foe can severely damage, or even kill, them.

Out of combat, Brandt is a capable party face, trained in Diplomacy, Bluff, and Intimidate. Knowledge (Local), Survival, and Craft (Stonemason) round out his skills.

As to the kingdom, Brandt would be capable in any role except Treasurer, though particularly so as General, Assassin, or Warden.

Brandt grinned with anticipation, this was a worthy foe. The Ulfen man had never fought an orc before, and this one possessed more raw strength than any man Brandt had ever seen.

"Hold your line, sailors!" yelled the captain of the river boat, called the Winding Snake. "That goes for you too, boy." obviously intended for Brandt, though the young warrior was unsure why, he hadn't even drawn his blade yet, much less charged in. No, he was biding his time, waiting for that perfect moment, like the blossoming of the cherry trees that Habate had described so many times.

The orcs charged, and Brandt waited. They drew ever closer, and he waited. The one saw him still unarmed and believing it had an easy kill, surged ahead. Brandt feigned a yawn, beckoning it forth with a motion of his other hand.

The sailor's line dissolved as they counter charged, shouting in unison. Only Brandt and the orc existed. The moment came, Brandt took a single step forward, drawing his blade even as he struck out, his second hand closing on the hilt, giving even more leverage to the blade. A tug, then the blade was free and blood splattered from the gaping wound in the orc's corpse as it fell to its knees, then crashed to the ground.

The flame of battle surged within him, and he charged toward the next orc he saw, shouting out a challenge of wordless fury as her ran. Two strokes and it fell, Brandt turning to the next orc, the fervor overtaking him. He became more reckless as his swings grew stronger, taking a cut from an axe on his chin, a sword raking across his ribs, none of it mattered, for he was one with the fire of battle. Finally the last one lay dead, along with half the crew.

"Nine hells," the captain said, following his first curse with a few more choice ones before continuing. "Orcs don't usually raid this far into Nimrathas, the Tourondel is usually safe. Damn it all, I've barely enough crew to make it to Vellumis now."

"That was amazing," Brandt said to no one in particular, seemingly oblivious to the captain's griping.

"You are a strange boy," the captain said in reply, "but very skilled, we might all have died without you."

{b]"What?"[/b] the ulfen boy replied, seemingly returning the present.

"Nevermind, let's back to the ship," the captain said, rolling his eyes.

Quellina Esstanov
Female Human Inquisitor of Tanagaar 1
LN Medium humanoid (human)
Init +6 (+9 during surprise round), Senses Perception +9
----------------------------------------
DEFENSE
----------------------------------------
AC 14, touch 12, flat-footed 12 (+2 armour, +2 Dex)
HP 9 (1d8+1)
Fort +3, Ref +2, Will +6
----------------------------------------
OFFENSE
----------------------------------------
Speed 30 ft.
Melee kukri +0 (1d4/18-20)
Ranged longbow +2 (1d8/x3)

Inquisitor Spells Known (CL 1st; concentration +5)
1st (2/day) - divine favour, longshot
0th (at will) - create water, detect magic, guidance, light
Domain Animal domain (Feather subdomain)
----------------------------------------
STATISTICS
----------------------------------------
Str 10 (+0) [0 points], Dex 14 (+2) [5 points], Con 12 (+1) [2 points], Int 13 (+1) [3 points], Wis 18 (+4) [10 points], Cha 10 (+0) [0 points] (Human +2 to Wisdom)
BAB +0; CMB +0; CMD +13
Feats Improved Initiative (+4 bonus on initiative checks), Point-Blank Shot (+1 attack and damage on targets within 30 feet)
Skills Climb (Str) +5, Craft (armour, bows) (Int) +5, Intimidate (Cha) +5, Knowledge (nature) (Int), Perception (Wis) +9, Sense Motive (Wis) +9, Stealth (Dex) +7, Survival (Wis) +8 (Favoured class bonus +1 skill rank)
Traits Ambush Training (+1 to initiative checks and weapon damage rolls during surprise round), Noble-Born (Orlovsky) (+1 to CMD, +1 to Stealth)
Languages Common, Sylvan
SQ eyes of the hawk, judgement 1/day, monster lore +4, stern gaze +1

Quellina was born into House Esstanov, a small offshoot of Brevoy's House Orlovsky; a generation of solely daughters, one of whom was Quellina's paternal grandmother, helped to ensure this. The House was prosperous enough, though, thanks to her father Dominn inheriting the traditional Esstanov knack for finance. When Quellina was only eight years old, she and her parents were riding in a carriage on business within the Gronzi Forest, domain of House Medvyed, when they were waylaid by bandits. Her mother, Allesh, told her to run and hide; Quellina did so, but was found by two of the bandits. Cornered in the great roots of a tree, she knew that she would not escape them, and she murmured a silent prayer to Erastil for mercy.
And then an arrow streaked forth from the nearby woods, striking one bandits dead in an instant. The other ran too, but met the same fate. Out of the shadows emerged a great owl, and then a woman. She introduced herself to the frightened child as a local hunter, having come across her in a fortunate coincidence. She helped the huntress navigate back to the carriage, where they found her parents dead and stripped of all valuables, and the bandits long gone. The woman took her to her personal shelter and gave her succor for a day, then offered to help her navigate back to civilization, but Quellina declined; she did not need to return to civilization, she needed to bring it to places like this one, and to people like the monsters who had slain her parents. To them, civilization would come at the tip of an arrow. She asked the woman to teach her how she had saved her and dealt with her assailants, and she accepted. Quellina's training began then.
Now 23 years old, Quellina has learned as much as she could from the huntress about martial skill and divine power, inducting her into the faith of Tanagaar, from whom no evil can stay hidden. With her saviour now grown old, she departed and made her way back to her family's domain, where she was informed that she had been thought dead; as such, all of her family's things had been sold. She wandered for some time, honing her skills at tracking against beasts, but yearning for a bigger test. Hearing of the charter to the Stolen Lands, and its provision to fight against banditry, she signed up eagerly and set off.
Quellina is usually aloof and keeps to herself, always with a wary eye on those around her. Once she is satisfied that there are no threats present, she allows herself to open up, proving to be friendly but blunt, almost unable to have a thought without speaking it. Those who draw her attention as possible bandits or criminals find themselves on the receiving end of the harshest glare her golden eyes can muster.

During combat, she stays out of melee unless absolutely necessary, using her longbow against threats. She can use her judgement and spells to increase damage as necessary.
Out of combat, she does well with Perception, Stealth, has high initiative, good Knowledge skills and some face skills (Intimidate & Sense Motive), and she is able to craft armour and bows (I'll be putting more ranks into those as she levels, and eventually pick up Craft Magic Arms and Armour).
In leadership roles, she would be most well-suited to Marshall, but could also serve well as a Councillor or High Priest.

Quellina swept a sweat-soaked bang from her forehead, panting slightly as she approached the tavern. It was an unseasonably hot day, and she regretted wearing her armour already.
"I'd regret it even more if I caught a blow or a knife. Can't be too careful," she muttered under her breath.
She looked at the notice board outside the tavern; she had already gained a small fee for a lost puppy this week. But perhaps there was something worth her while?
No, a quick perusal told her there wasn't. Of course not, she thought; what stupid bandit would dare try anything within sight of Eagle's Watch? She sighed, getting ready to leave back to her house when she saw another flyer.
"Now what's this," She asked out loud as she pulled a flyer off the wall, "about an expedition?"
She read the paper quickly, discovering that it was an offer from the Swordlords of Restov to explore the wilderness bordering the River Kingdoms. At this, Quellina almost threw the paper away, scoffing to herself.
"A wretched hive of scum and villainy if there ever was one! Ugh, she said a little too loudly, drawing a curious look from a man about to enter the tavern.
"Sorry about that, haha!" she said awkwardly as she held up the paper. The man shook his head and continued to enter.
And then she glanced back at the paper, and about how the Swordlords, under the auspices of Lord Surtova of the Dragonstone Throne, wanted able and strong arms to strive against banditry in the region during the expedition. Quellina's golden eyes widened at that.
"Banditry, eh? Sounds like a real problem..." she let her voice trail off. A wide grin slowly began to spread on her face.
"Then wait till they see the solution...
And she set off, paper in hand, to the recruiting address listed. The heat wasn't so bad after all, now. Not compared to the heat that would fall on those bandits' heads, soon enough.

As his eyes scanned over the document, an unmistakable scowl began to form on the brow of young Lucius. Glancing up from the document to look his gruff middle-aged father Theodric square in the eyes, Lucius suspiciously inquired "Just why exactly are you showing me this? Why should I care about bandit activity in the River Kingdoms?"

With a sour, yet bemused demeanor, Theodric responded curtly to his cocksure eldest boy "Because you’re going on expedition Lucius; Lady Lebeda has asked for volunteers to put an end to the banditry bordering her lands and harassing trade to the west." With a shrug, Theodric smiled and added "This is good for you Lucius, you need to get some field experience."

Growing ever more incredulous by the minute, Lucius wave the document about as he retorted "Field experience? This is a sheriff’s work father; I didn’t go to study in Restov to skulk about in the woods hunting for petty thieves!"

Unmoved and intransigent in his position, Theodric flatly stated "You have much to learn Lucius, and this kind of experience can tell you much about the Kingdom." Walking across the room to the wait table, Theodric poured himself a cup of wine before smugly addressing his son once more "In any event, there be no use in arguing with me; I’ve already put your name forth to Dame Serona, so you’re going lest you wish to disappoint her. You leave in two days."

Though he was now seething with anger, Lucius controlled his emotion as he coolly countered his father "Lander and I were supposed to be on a hunting expedition in two days…"

"Aye, you were Lucius, but I guess that will have to wait." Without any further discussion, Theodric got up and left the room, but not before adding "Better get packing son."

Standing somewhat dumbfounded, Lucius shook his head as he considered the exchange that just took place. After a few moments, Lucius began to resign himself to his fate; indeed he couldn’t very well say no to Dame Sarona Lebeda, and his father knew that.

So, it's off to the River Kingdoms is it? Well then, time to go make a name for myself…