Kingmaker: A Light in the Dark (Inactive)

Game Master JDPhipps

All characters are starting at Level 2.

Characters have a 15 point-buy, using the point-buy system detailed in my house rules for Pathfinder, which also contains all my house rules for the system and should answer all questions about "Can I take X" or "Are you using Y". Please read it, and if you don't find the answer to your question, let me know.

Two traits, one of which can--but does not need to be--a campaign trait. You may take a Drawback for an additional trait.

I have no restriction on races, but be aware that the more outlandish the race the better backstory you'll need for me to pick you. In addition, there are a lot of elves/half-elves in the party, I'd prefer something a little different.

I'd prefer no evil characters, but if you really want to play one PM me and we can talk about it. We have a Paladin in the party, so you'll need a damn good excuse.

You start with average starting wealth for your class, plus an additional 200 GP.

I am a college senior, so my posting will occasionally be sporadic. I do my best to post once a day when I have free time, and closer to five times a week during crunch time for things like exams; I expect you to keep up a similar posting schedule. I will, at times, not be able to keep up with that schedule for a variety of reasons, and I will do my best to let you know ahead of time. That said, if I forget and don't post for a little while, I'll be back. The game isn't dead unless I kill it, you get what I'm saying? If something happens and you can't post for a while, please let me know. I'm reasonable.

If you don't post for more than a week and don't inform me that you won't be able to, I reserve the right to remove you and find a new player. If you show back up, do feel free to message me and explain the situation, and if I feel your reasoning for disappearing is acceptable, I'll let you back into the game.

Read the Kingmaker Player's Guide, and have a passable knowledge of Golarion. I do not know everything about the setting, so I don't expect you to do so either, but don't be completely ignorant of it. Also, have some knowledge of Kingmaker's first book; if you don't know about it, read through the Gameplay thread or ask me.

Roll20 will be used for combat, so please have an account and be ready to join the game on there.

I will roll initiative for players, as well as things like Perception if it seems reasonable that your characters would automatically assume to do so; if not, I will use a passive bonus (Total skill bonus +10) if necessary. You, of course, are always allowed to make your own checks if I do not.

Please be somewhat well-written, and be dedicated to role-playing. I don't expect you to be capable of writing the next Great American Novel, but I'm a writing major and I expect at least things like correct grammar.

A completed character sheet that I can look at and read over. It doesn't need to be attached to an alias, but I don't have programs like HeroLab so I can't look at sheets on that program.

A written backstory for your character, including at least a basic description of their personality. Things like physical appearance get you bonus points, but aren't required.

If you're submitting to take over the role of my missing player (more on that down below, outside the spoiler!), I will need a role-playing sample to see your take on the character; I want to see how you take what you already have and build on it and change it, which will be a significant factor in your being chosen. Other players may submit one for bonus points, but it's not necessary.

I am using a third-party archetype for the bard, the Serenader. It seems pretty benign (and its, you know, a bard) but if you still have a problem with it I can always go with a normal bard or use a non-3rd party archetype.

I had my character end up with the same charter that the main party has simply to put him on the same page with their goals. I can always remove that coda and have him simply join up with them as the most interesting thing going, if you'd prefer that.

I distributed skills according to the stated Background Skills system in your House Rules.

Obviously any comments are welcome and I'm happy to iron out oddities and problems any time.

Tristan Aisling
Male Human Bard(Serenader) 2
Neutral Good Medium Humanoid
Init +2; Senses Perception +3
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Defense
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AC 18, touch 12, flat-footed 14 [+3 Dex, +4 Armor, +1 Dodge]
hp X (# HD; 1dX+[HP from Constitution])
Fort +2, Ref +5, Will +4
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee Rapier +4 (1d6+3/18-20/x2)
Melee Dagger +4 (1d4+3/19-20/x2)
Ranged Shortbow +4 (1d6+3/x3)

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Magic
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Caster Level 2; Concentration +7

Spells Per Day
0th: n/a
1st: 4

Spells Known
0th: Message, Lullaby, Resistance, Spark
1st: Cause Fear, Expeditious Retreat

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Statistics
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Str 10, Dex 16, Con 10, Int 13, Wis 8, Cha 20
Base Atk +1; CMB +1; CMD 14

Skills (with invested ranks):
Artistry (Musical Composition/Song writing): +6
Acrobatics (1 rank): +7
Bluff (2 ranks): +10
Diplomacy (2 ranks): +10
Disguise (1 rank): +9
Know(Hist) (1 rank): +5
Know(Local) (1 rank): +5
Know(Noble) (2 rank): +6
Know(Religion) (1 rank): +5
Linguistics (2 ranks): +6
Perception (1 rank): +3
Perform(Sing) (2 ranks): +10
Perform(String) (1 rank): +9
Stealth (1 rank): +7

Feats
Dodge (+1 to AC)
Great Fortitude (+2 to Fort saves)

Traits
Tough Minded (+1 to Will Saves)
Charming (+1 to Bluff, Dip and +1 to spell save DC v creatures that could find Tristan sexually attractive.

Languages
Common, Elvish, Celestial, Ignan

SQ

Gear Rapier, shortbow, quiver and 25x arrows, chain shirt, fiddle, extra fiddle strings & other care equipment (oil, polish, linens, etc). Leather hair ties. 1 set of fine clothing. 1 set of trail clothing. 2 weeks trail rations. water skin.
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Special Abilities
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Hard to Charm: +4 to Will against Charm and Compulsion

Versatile Performance: Sing(Bluff, Sense Motive)

At 2nd level, a bard can choose one type of Perform skill. He can use his bonus in that skill in place of his bonus in associated skills. When substituting in this way, the bard uses his total Perform skill bonus, including class skill bonus, in place of its associated skill's bonus, whether or not he has ranks in that skill or if it is a class skill. At 6th level, and every 4 levels thereafter, the bard can select an additional type of Perform to substitute.

Bardic Performance: Countersong, Distraction, Fascinate, Serenade

Silver Tonge Adept Adds half level (minimum 1) as a bonus on all Diplomacy skill checks.

Tristan doesn't come from much, but he wasn't born on the street. The son of shopkeepers, he received some formal education in his youth and was found to have a knack for language. At the age of eight, his gift for music was discovered, and the arc of his life was seemingly decided. His singing mentors feared that upon reaching manhood his changing voice would no longer be as sweet - but it only grew more beautiful, expanding his range and his appeal. Combined with his physical beauty and natural charm, Tristan found there were very few doors he couldn't open with the right words. By his mid teens he'd already made a name for himself as a performer. For several years he lived in a room at a pricey tavern where he performed thrice a week, and was often hired by nobles for private performances. He spent money as easily as he made it, and life was a happy, effortless blur of wine, lovers, and song.

Eventually, jealousy complicated matters. A former partner of Tristan's, with whom he had often sung duets and put on joint performances, was driven by ambition to strike out on his own - but while an excellent musician himself, it was no secret that he was found to be the inferior of the two. He enlisted the help of a pair of minor noble youths to spread rumor and gossip about Tristan and ruin his reputation.

When Tristan found out, it brought his carefree life to a screeching halt. He was often the subject of gossip and rumor, but never before had it been spiteful (and usually it had been deserved). This concerted campaign against him aroused a fighting spirit within him that he'd never known existed. He used his superior charms and immensely superior connections to turn the tables on his detractors. He exposed their schemes and destroyed their credibility, and as an added bit of revenge spread a few artful rumors of his own. For a month or so, opponents vanquished, his life returned to normal.

Unable to match his skills at petty politics and constantly enraged by the gossip that held them in such mockery, both Tristan's rival and the two nobles marched into the inn one night to challenge him to duels. Outraged that they had brazenly interrupted his performance, Tristan accepted without a second thought - and furthermore, contemptuously offered to fight all three duels in a single day.

Like any decent Rostlander socialite, Tristan owned a blade and was tolerably well acquainted with its use, having hired himself a private dueling master for some years - but he had never expected to have need of the skills. Still, his pride would not let him back down, and so he resolved to follow through. For the week leading up to the duels he practiced constantly. When the day came, his opponents drew straws for the order in which their duels would be fought, and the rules were laid: to first blood or capitulation.

First he fought one of the nobles, a young man who had been training with a blade nearly his entire life - but had little aptitude for it. With experience and stamina he ground out a lengthy bout, but eventually Tristan was able to cut him upon the hand and so take a poor, but definite, victory. The second match was fought against the original instigator, the fellow singer. This man hated Tristan with a passion - but was useless with a blade. Tristan stabbed him in the shoulder on the second pass.

The third and final duel was fought against the most formidable opponent. The second noble was Tristan's elder by three years. Tristan knew little of him, but everything he knew he hated. The man was cruel, rash, arrogant, and poorly spoken. Tristan could not bear the thought of losing to him, and so he summoned up every bit of strength he had left - but after two duels, he was tired, and it was all he could do to fend off his foe's attacks. Then he remembered that he had another weapon which he had thus far left unused - his words. He began to taunt the noble, mercilessly and creatively. He joked. He insulted. He improvised mocking lyrics and poems even as he dodged attacks. The crowd - which was considerable - roared with laughter. After one particularly biting limerick that commented on the noble's taste for farm beasts as bed partners, the young man charged recklessly. Tristan countered with a thrust, hoping to take his opponent in the shoulder - but the nobleman stumbled in his haste, and spitted his head upon Tristan's blade. The cleric they'd had on duty for the duels declared that the man was dead.

The noble's family did everything they could to declare Tristan a murderer, but here, again, he proved able to defend himself against the allegations with his own words and the help of his allies in the nobility. He was absolved of wrongdoing - but now Tristan had earned himself more powerful enemies. He was forced to enter the realm of politics to prevent the dead noble's family and their allies from destroying his life. This he managed to do, and for several years his life was again joyful and downright hedonistic - but somewhat less carefree.

In the end, it was not this violent episode which undid Tristan - but rather his own amorousness. At twenty-four years of age he was more successful than ever, playing and singing for wealthy merchants and noble families for miles around. And one of those nobles turned out to have two very fetching daughters.

As well as an extremely charming wife.

On the final day of his month-long stay at the estate, Tristan's host, a powerful nobleman, discovered him in bed with the wife - and upon further questioning of the household staff, also discovered the dalliances with his daughters. And one of his kitchen maids. Not all of Tristan's words and allies could save him from consequences this time - though they did manage to save him from the headsman's axe. Instead, the judge took "mercy" upon him, seizing most of his possessions and exiling him to the Stolen Lands.

It was the wife who, just as Tristan was about to depart, sent him a note by courier. His truest friends amongst the nobility had pulled some strings. Inside was an explanation of the recent attempts to pacify and settle the Stolen Lands - and a charter making him an agent of the Swordlords of Restov.

"Take heart," she had written. "Greatness still lies ahead of you. I know it."

Tristan is a good-natured, outgoing, unrepentant hedonist with a passion for song and wordplay that exceeds all else (even his other passions, which are many). He is of a generous bent and freely shares his wealth (well, the wealth he used to have) with friends and has also been known to donate to the poor from time to time. His major weaknesses are a tendency to live in the moment and pursue his desires while only rarely considering the consequences (a tendency that is directly responsible for his presence in the Stolen Lands). While not violent by nature and preferring other means to solve his problems, he is decently handy with a sword and bow and does not shy away from a fight. His pride and a streak of vanity (especially where his musical skills are concerned) have also been issues.

While not having a great deal of experience with responsibility to anyone but himself, on the rare occasions when he makes promises or gives his word, he takes keeping it very seriously.

Tristan is just a touch above average height and has a lean build. He has light brown hair, sharp facial features and deep blue eyes. He has a thin scar on his right temple and ear which is largely concealed by his hair, a remnant of an accident during fencing practice some years ago.

Tristan would work well as a Grand Diplomat and as Councilor, with his own preferences being on the latter (he likes to live and work amongst people who like and admire him), but he would also be ready and able to serve as the former (or indeed, whatever else is needed) when duty calls.

Natasha Bedingford
F Human gunslinger 2
NG medium humanoid (human)
Init +4
DEFENSE
AC: 17 touch 14 flat-footed 13 (+ armor, +4 dex,)
HP: 18
Saves: Fort +4 ref +7 Will +2
Defensive abilities: lucky (+1 will),

OFFENSE
Speed: 30 ft
Melee:dagger +6 (1d4+4 19-20/x2)
Ranged: pistol +6 (1d8+4 x4)
Special attacks: Deeds (up close and deadly, focused aim)
STATISTICS
STR: 10 DEX: 18 CON: 12 INT: 13 WIS: 10 CHA: 14
BAB +2 CMB +6 CMD 16
FEATS: combat marksmanship, deadly aim, gun smithing, rapid reload (pistols)
SKILLS: acrobatics +10(2 ranks), diplomacy +8 (2 ranks), perception +5(2 ranks), bluff +6 (1 rank), intimidate +6 (1rank), sense motive +1 (1 rank), survival +4 (1 rank), knowledge local +7 (2 ranks),
Background skills: craft (guns) 2, knowledge geography 1, sleight of hand 1,
Languages: common, chelaxian,
SQ: Grit 2, deeds (upclose and deadly, quick clear, focused aim),
Traits: Auspicious tattoo (+1 to will/ HOG), friend in every town (+1 to diplomacy (CC), knowledge (local)/ ultimate campaign)
Gear: battered pistol, 3 daggers studded leather armor, gunslingers kit, smoked goggles, 50 ft spidersilk rope, light horse, riding kit, pocketed scarf, monster mask (orc), hanging tent, signal whistle, compass, cards, acid flask 2, 40 gp emerald(?) bracelet, 9 gp

Natasha Bedingford was raised in the bustling city of magnimar and lived the for 21 years. Each day she would go down to the market to see the wonders that each new trader would bring in his wares. Each day was a mystery never knowing exactly what she would find. after several years this of she began to realize that there was a limit to what the merchants and traders could bring into the markets of a large city. She then began to work as hard as she could in her father’s blacksmith shop to save money for atrip to explore the world. It took her 8 years to save what she felt was an acceptable amount to go and explore the world. Finally, on her 22 birthday she set out from magnimar and hasn’t returned to the city since. She has been travelling by herself and with others as the opportunities warrant, but always on a quest to see something new. While she was travelling in the south, after another unfortunate bandit attack, she decided that it was time to learn to defend herself. The closest and best place for her was to the east in Alkenstar where she learned to use and make the guns that city has become famous for. She has traveled to most of the nations of the inner sea and experienced there culture since then. When she heard of the attempts in brevoy to begin an entirely new kingdom she realized “What better way to experience new marvels and wonders, then to help create them yourself?”

Yeah, I picked the archetype for its character background fit more than anything else. Given that Tristan had a comfortable, successful life in civilization for the most part, I didn't want to "forecast" into his adventuring life too much, as he wasn't preparing for one. I figure I can retrain into a difference archetype (Arcane Duelist comes to mind) or, as you've mentioned, just dual class into something more adventuring oriented later. Maybe both.

I had him end up with the charter as a way to point him at joining the existing party. The idea is that they left before all this happened to Tristan, and when Tristan's friends in the nobility found out he was being exiled to the Stolen Lands they figured setting him up with some tough adventurers would give him a better chance of staying alive.

And I suppose my only question is how much time amidst the kingdom building and adventuring might be used for retraining (and whether or not you allow it in the first place). I like the retraining system as a vehicle for roleplay, showing a character making a concerted effort to adapt to his situation - as as Tristan's backstory shows, he has been suddenly tossed into a very different one.

Creon watches the group as they enter the Temple, he knows that he should aid his... friends? allies? Recently the fragments of his past life if that is what I am seeing had been clouding his judgment.

As he is about to step forward and assist, once again the fragments have their way with his present...

"...just over the next ridge. See I told you this would be a wonderful place for a picnic". She is right, this prairie that blue cloudless sky and the greenery so lush, the stuff dreams are made of.

Gods, she is so beautiful, I can't believe that we are together. What did I do to deserve this. Nothing, not a damn thing. I have no right to this life after what I...

"A copper for your thoughts...."

Creon snaps out of the fragment. A fragment very different from those involving Seryn. Out loud, a bad habit that seems to be growing worse, Creon asks himself,"Query: If that was not Seryn who was she and what was she about to name me?"

The crack of a gunshot from inside the Temple snaps Creon from his contemplation. He should get in there and help. The snarl from what is no doubt the wolf they have been tracking is loud enough to echo from the Temple. Still Creon does nothing, "Observation: Am I not a liability if I freeze in battle? Should I not simply seek out what I must find and in so doing return whole and better able to assist?"

Creon is mired in indecision until the sounds of battle stop.

"That's assuming the damned thing's head even comes off," Kilarra says, wary of the magic keeping the werewolf alive. "I think Annika's right, we need someone to cleanse this place of... whatever this is. Then again, I've never studied magic or religion in my life, so maybe my opinion doesn't mean much." She shrugs at Marcus's suggestion of chaining it to a rock. "I mean, if you wanna let the thing loose from your bear traps and drag it to the pond, be my guest. I'll just be, y'know, waiting over here away from the immortal werewolf."

He hears voices, ones he recognizes it seems his allies triumphed without him.

Male half-elf unchained rogue Scout 2 ( Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide 134, Pathfinder Unchained 20)
CN Medium humanoid (elf, human)
Init +3; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision; Perception +9

AC 16, touch 13, flat-footed 13 (+3 armor, +3 Dex)

HP 15 (2d8+2)

Fort +1, Ref +6, Will +2; +2 vs. enchantments

Defensive Abilities evasion; Immune sleep

Speed 30 ft.

Melee dagger +4 (1d4+3/19-20) or
short sword +4 (1d6+3/19-20)

Ranged composite longbow +4 (1d8+3/×3)

Special Attacks sneak attack (unchained) +1d6

Str 10, Dex 16, Con 13, Int 12, Wis 14, Cha 10

Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 14

Feats Combat Stamina, Combat Marksmanship (Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot), Weapon Finesse

Traits devotee of the green, nature's mimic

Skills Acrobatics +7, Bluff +0 (+2 to pass as full drow, elf, or human), Climb +4, Disable Device +8, Disguise +5 (+7 to pass as full drow, elf, or human), Heal +6, Knowledge (dungeoneering) +5 (+7 to navigate underground), Knowledge (geography) +7, Knowledge (local) +6, Knowledge (nature) +7, Perception +9, Sleight of Hand +7, Stealth +7, Survival +7 (+9 to avoid becoming lost when using a Mapmaker's Kit as you travel, +9 to avoid becoming lost)

Racial Modifiers +2 Perception

Languages Common, Elven, Sakvroth

SQ elf blood, hidden half-breed, Combat Marksmanship (point-blank shot, precise shot), rogue talent (survivalist), trapfinding +1, weapon finesse

Combat Gear potion of cure light wounds (2), caltrops; studded leather, arrows (20), blunt arrows (20), composite longbow, dagger, short sword, smoke arrows, adventurer's sash,

Other Gear backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, chalk (5), compass APG, flint and steel, grappling hook, hat UE, mapmaker's kit, mess kit, mirror, piton (10), silk rope (50 ft.), thieves' tools, trail rations (5), waterskin, 1 gp, 7 sp, 6 cp

Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white only).

Elf Blood Half-elves count as both elves and humans for any effect related to race.

Elven Immunities – Sleep You are immune to magic sleep effects.

Evasion (Ex) If succeed on Reflex save for half dam, take none instead.

Hidden Half-Breed +2 to bluff and disguise to pass as full drow, elf, or human.

Point-Blank Shot +1 to attack and damage rolls with ranged weapons at up to 30 feet.

Point-Blank Shot [Combat Trick] Up to 6 stamina points to increase Point-Blank range by 5 ft per stamina spent.

Precise Shot You don't get -4 to hit when shooting or throwing into melee.

Precise Shot [Combat Trick] 2 stamina points to assist an ally engaged with an enemy (+2 atk, +2 AC).

Sneak Attack (Unchained) +1d6 Attacks deal extra dam if flank foe or if foe is flat-footed.

Trapfinding +1 Gain a bonus to find or disable traps, including magical ones.

Dunreek and his parents grew up in the wilds of Brevoy, it was the only place that would be accepting if a Drow and human marriage. His parents taught him the way of nature, how to track and hunt, how to not get lost in the wilds.

Dunreek hired himself out to the local lords, mapping the lands around their towns.
Dunreek always was a bit skittish if people learned of his 1/2 Drow heritage, if asked he would tell people that his darker skin was a result of years spend in the woods and getting dirty.

I like your backstory, it feels very natural and in keeping with the themes of Kingmaker, really. Still, I would love to know more about his time amongst the druids and I'd enjoy having you flesh that out a little more; it seems like there could be some potential conflict between Orvin and the head of his former order when it comes to things being changed in the Stolen Lands and the balance of society and nature. That intrigues me as a potential point of contention later on in the campaign, so more of that would be nice. What you have so far seems good to me, however. On the note of his backstory, if accepted I'd like you to either think more about, or tell me what you've already thought about, in terms of his family. Kingmaker is the kind of game that in-world can stretch over a decade or more, and family is something that normally wouldn't show up much that can be much more front-and-center when not actively adventuring.

As for your stats, I'm curious about your feat choices. Are you planning to continue on with Orvin as a mounted combatant in the future? That's an interesting take on the druid--which is usually played more as a spell-casting class in my experience, at least in Pathfinder--and I'd like to see where you plan to possibly take it in the future. If not, I'd still like to know your future plans when it comes to the mechanics on Orvin, as I'm intrigued by what I see right now.

Natasha doesn't qualify for the auspicious tattoo trait; it requires you to be Shoanti, which as far as I can tell she is not. Normally I don't care too much about the fluff on traits, but this does actually list that as a requirement on Archives of Nethys--the PF SRD cannot as Shoanti are not part of the open-game license just like the rest of Golarion--so she wouldn't qualify for that. If we weren't on Golarion I might care less, but... we are.

Also, you have some incorrect math in your skills. Unless I'm mistaken, your Acrobatics should be a +9. Other than that, your crunch looks fine to me.

Your backstory is kind of sparse, and also seems a little disjointed to me. Traveling south from Magnimar, it seems sort of unlikely to me that one would travel to Alkenstar as opposed to somewhere like Rahadoum or Thuvia, or even over to Osirion. You would have had to travel the length of the Mwangi Expanse to get there, all while not being able to defend herself? That feels unlikely to me. You don't really detail for the most part where you traveled, and so this all feels like a justification to play a gunslinger as opposed to building a real story for your character. Also, word hasn't traveled that Brevoy--or rather, Restov--has sent people southward to build a new kingdom; this isn't why the PCs are sent in the beginning--or at least they don't know it--and it's not exactly common knowledge even in Restov. As far as the PCs know they've been sent to deal with a bandit problem and map the area, and as far as the general public knows nothing's happening at all. Especially to someone on another continent.

Hmm, that's an interesting thought on the archetype. It makes sense, so we'll roll with it. Normally I'm hesitant on retraining, but given that each kingdom building "turn" lasts for 1 month, I'm less worried about the downtime needed for such things. So yes, you'd be allowed to do so once the party begins building a settlement at the end of Book 1. If picked, we can discuss exactly what all you decide to retrain and all that when the time comes. As for the charter, in your case it does make sense given how you've described it, so that works for me. I do enjoy the thematic choice in picking something for flavor more than usefulness, necessarily.

If picked, I'd like to know more about his rival and the nobleman who's still alive, as well as the family of the dead one. Given the conflict that already exists between Issia and Rostland within the country of Brevoy, if they happened to be Issian nobles or something like that, it could make for a very contentious arrangement when you and the rest of the party start building a kingdom of your own. The same goes for the noblemen whose wife and daughters Tristan slept with, as he might have something to say about Tristan being an agent of Restov building settlements and acting all important. Just food for thought.

I'm going to answer things about the PM you sent me here as opposed to doing it in two separate locations. I really like this little sample, and I think it captures Creon pretty well. I do like the angle you took on the flashbacks and it seems a natural progression of his... "psychosis", I suppose. In game, Creon left the group because they had recently captured a small group of bandits, all of whom were injured; they were hot on the trail of the werewolf and didn't want to venture back to town or the trading post, so they instead decided to have Creon escort them back to the trading post as his player had recently disappeared. Still, I like the way you've taken the unknown and made it fit with the character.

As a few notes on the character that are less blatant, Creon has a very strong dislike of bandits in general, and I don't think has ever been happy about taking prisoners and not killing them all. He's also a very strict atheist due to the memories of his former life; he distrusts gods and their ilk and finds the whole thing kind of unsettling. That said, he and Gallidren had a fairly good relationship at the start of the game--he's a Wizard, but a devout follower of Erastil--and doesn't mind Theo or Annika either. He doesn't necessarily distrust those devoted to gods, but I think the player's angle was that he fears and distrusts the practice of worshiping beings that powerful.

Just wanted to fill you in on some more nuances of the character.

I think the backstory is really good, but I'd really love to know more about a lot of the stuff you touch on. It all seems like a solid foundation, so I wouldn't change anything that I see here, just flesh it out and give me more. I want to know about why Jericho was denied his birthright and I want to know about who did it and how they might react when he rises as an important official in a new colony in the Stolen lands. I want to know more about this nobleman he killed and who might want him tracked down for that crime. All of this and more would be places I'd take further versions of the backstory; you don't necessarily have to write all of that down, but think on it because if you're selected I'll want that kind of thing.

As for the personality, it gives me a good feel for the character but again I'd like to see a little more. I'm not sure what I feel you're missing, exactly, but just go a little more in-depth with it if you don't mind.

Mechanically, the character seems solid. Are you intending to go for more of a full-on switch hitter build, or were the archery feats just to present a ranged option if necessary?

At a glance, the mechanics on the character look solid, I'm not seeing any mistakes or things you aren't eligible for. That said, the backstory is pretty... light. I would like to see a lot more, something on par with what I've gotten from some of the other submissions. Not necessarily in that style, but that amount of information on the character.

Ah sorry I missed the rationale for his leaving the group. Great, I can include those notes in the Profile assuming you pick me to replace Creon. If you do pick me and wish to drop some more of the nuances of the character feel free to and I'll incorporate them. Based on my experience with Star Wars I understand the desire to keep characters that you like as DM and fit the storyline!

It's alright, we didn't make a large deal of his departure or anything as at the time we thought he would be back shortly. You mentioned you didn't see it and I liked where you went with it.

Destiny is the terminus of perseverance and time.

Under the passing of a comet, various cultures have differing traditions of how to respond to the cosmic phenomenon. Some celebrate. Others prepare for the worst. Such was the case in the birth of Kahurangi, son of hunters in the Moana tribe. His father, Henare, was an established woodsman, while his mother, Arataki, was the only daughter of aging Chief Rongo. The lot of them lived in the islands off the Western coast of mainland Avistan, South of Pezzack. Life was simple – boat, breed, and bury. Excellent sailors, the group were originally a set of poor outcasts in harsh Cheliax – mostly humans and half-orcs. Their escape to the isles off the coast was before Kahurangi’s birth and that of his parents, but not of Chief Rongo and some of the other elders.

Sometimes those elders would tell stories of oppressive life in the empire, of slavery and hunger, fear and pain. Some had brought metal armor – relics of manufacturing to a larger scale than sustainable on these islands – while others had swept up traces of alchemy and sorcery in their departure. Most on the islands followed the simple paths of hunters, anglers, or farmers to keep the happenstance tribe fed. Kahurangi was one of the few that didn’t, instead being recognized by the seers at an early age for magical aptitude. Yet this provided a conflict: A standing rule in the tribe was leaders could not be trained mages, mainly because the exiles had been under the yoke of many devil-associating wizards and clerics; due his lineage, Henare was set to become chief upon Rongo’s surely not-too-distant death, Kahurangi to follow upon his father’s passing. Arataki, the human part of his lineage, was thrilled at the prospect, pleased to see her son had exceptional talent, but Henare was disappointed, wanting more power for his boy. On his 10th birthday, Kahurangi was forced to make a choice on which path he would follow for the tribe, as was tradition. He had the path of the mage available and took it.

With limited texts and tutors, Kahurangi had just familiarized himself with the basics when catastrophe struck; what seemed like an armada of ships bearing Chelish heraldry arrived at dawn, taking the islanders by surprise. They’d always retreated back to the foliage inland when such vessels had approached before, and people nearly never landed on the seemingly uninhabited isles – and the few times they did, the islanders left no survivors. This time though, military partitions dispatched in small crafts to spread and conquer. The warriors put up a resistance as well as they could, but they were quickly felled. Survivors were rounded-up and brought before an inquisitor whose job it was to decide their fates: Live as slaves or die as refuse. The sick and elderly were slain as well as any who didn’t submit. Some weren’t given a choice; leaders of the various factions of the tribe were put to the axe as well as any in the line of power. Kahurangi saw Chief Rongo beheaded, yet he must’ve missed his parents – they were nowhere to be seen. Soon, it was his turn.

”Boy, what is your name?!” Asked one of the soldiers flanking the inquisitor, his black and red robes bearing the symbols of who the youth would later learn to be Asmodeus.

”Kahu,” came the meek reply.

”Your FULL name!” A lash came from a whip of one of the slave drovers. Kahurangi began to cry.

”Ka – Kahurangi!”

The inquisitor seemed to take an interest in him. ”Hmm … this one has blue eyes.” Fear shot into Kahurangi’s heart – very few on the islands had those color eyes, and the man might figure out who his family was and kill him for it!
”Stand still and stop wailing!” Another lash came.

The inquisitor chanted a few words, starting directly into the boy’s soul, it seemed. It was almost as if he could feel his very being inspected, his memories observed.

”Your mother was happy you could cast some candlelight, was she?” The man laughed cruelly. ”You’ll have plenty of chances to get accustomed to dim light where you’re going. Take him to the ship. Bind his mouth!”

So it was the idyllic time on the isles ended and the slave ship to Sargava departed. So many of his community were slaughtered before him, Kahurangi was beside himself with grief. He barely could walk to the hold in the ship, his legs only functioning out of lashes of pain when they refused. The property was stripped and marched below deck, kept in the cold, dark bowels of the vessel. Days and days passed, the most meager of food and drink tossed down the steps into the chamber. Fights broke-out to get nourishment, but the strong bond between the people prevailed and prevented fatal injuries.

When they arrived at their destination, it was hot and humid, the air oppressive in its thickness. The slaves were very weak, many having lost a tithe of their body weight. Another set of officers awaited them at the shore.

”This is Bloodcove, slaves. You will be fed at the end of a day’s labor in the quarries and forests outside the town here. Work and eat, idle and die.”

That was all there was to it. They were given drink so they didn’t perish due to dehydration, but otherwise they had nothing to mitigate the elements. Dozens died from sickness or injury, still others resisted and were executed. Yet after a few months of labor, one night in their pen, a whispered conversation provided a spark of hope.
”They got Arapeta and Whina today, caught them taking a break. Two arrows in the back. Didn’t even move the bodies.” Marama spoke without emotion. She was a good friend of Kahurangi’s, but her joyful character had been squelched by the atrocities she’d seen. Now her matter-of-fact recounts of deaths spoke to a stultified disposition.

”I can’t take this anymore. We should all make a break for it.” Ruru, on the other hand, was still himself – quick of body and wit. He always preferred to keep his hands and mind busy with something, and his mettle in the face of the daunting odds was far above par for their group.

”Run? You’ve seen the things they’ve got in this jungle. We wouldn’t make it one night.” A hint of a smirk could be heard in Marama’s voice.

”Better than helping them and dying here later. You remember what Rongo kept telling us? It’s like it’s happening all over again!” Despite his impulsiveness, Ruru had a great deal of respect for the elders in the tribe. There were less of those now though.

The group quieted down as a patrol passed near where they were laying. They waited until it passed.

”And they got a lot of good years out of it after, right? That’s how they got to those islands.”

”There aren’t any free islands to go to here. You’ve got pirates on one side, a hurricane on the other.”
”But there might be in the jungle.”

”I’m not running to my death on a “might,” countered Marama. ”The spirits would have to give us a sign.”

And right then as destiny commanded, a streak of heavenly fire came into view over the horizon.

”That’s it! There’s your sign!” Awe filled Ruru’s exclaimation.

It was so timely, even skeptics like Marama had nothing to say. It was as if the gods themselves had given them permission to rebel. A haphazard discussion took place throughout the night, excitement and trepidation in the slaves’ voices, hurried by the immediacy of the omen in the sky.

In the morning, they hatched their plan. During the split between foresters and miners at the edge of the settlement, two people in each group faked a leg injury – an impediment just serious enough for the soldiers to inspect to see if they should be forcefully marched or put to death. The tribe then swarmed the guards. Over time, the overseers had grown complacent, only a handful watching each group. Sheer numbers overwhelmed the two in the middle, breaking their necks, and the gathered weapons allowed them to fight-off the remaining four. Some perished, but the majority fled to mostly-vacant river galleys on the interior side of the settlement, setting them on a course up the Vanji River. The craft were designed specifically to deal with coastal combat, so arrows and bows were available, allowing the rogue slaves to defense while the other labor-acclimated escapees rowed at a startling pace. The master boaters easily escaped the Bloodcove harriers on land, sustaining a few losses in exchanged projectile fire, and their speed was enough to keep them ahead of naval pursuit in the short term. Kahurangi breathed a sigh of relief to see Marama and Ruru survived the escapade.

Yet the navy of that shadowy settlement was nothing if not stubborn. For days, the ex-slaves aboard the two vessels had to sleep in shifts, only a reduction in speed permissible to match the tenacity of their pursuers. Fortunately, the nets aboard, combined with the supplies on deck meant they had a somewhat sustainable time otherwise. The two people aboard the crafts which didn’t resist immediately were bound, but treated without harm due their surrender. The river eventually took a split to the left before opening days later into a wide lake. Despite the threat from behind and the occasional attacks from locals on either side, the ships emerged into the waters expanse with a taxing decision: Which route should they take? They could venture out to the island in the middle, or one of the various rivers could be taken. Kahurangi – not at all in charge – decided to ask their captives while the adults argued.
”Which river should we take?” The adolescent asked the middle-aged man whose beard had gotten too long for comfort in this humid weather, hoping his experience would yield knowledge in the matter.

The man shrugged. ”You’re dead either way. Savages in this jungle, all of it. They all dead-end sooner or later, and you’ll have to deal with them.”

Not caring much for the moribund response, Kahurangi moved-on to the younger woman. ”What do you think?”

Though she could hear what the person old enough to be his father said, he leaded-in towards the youth and said softly. ”He’s right about the dead-ends, but if you want a chance, head to the right. There’s a city on the coast – Usaro. It’s supposed to have nothing but gorillons living in it, strong enough to kill all who enter. There’s treasure it’s said, but nobody from Bloodcove has ever returned alive. They won’t follow you by it. Head past the bend beyond the city, and turn past the island in the middle. That river will take you the farthest, but it does dead-end.”

Kahurangi smiled. ”You’re a good man! What’s your name?”

The other – barely a man by any definition – smiled back. ”I’m Renaldo.”

It took some convincing, but as the makeshift leaders were just taking a shot in the dark anyway, they took Kahurangi up on his plan, and it worked. The ships turned back as the city came within view, and they nearly avoided getting too close. A good thing – much movement could be seen along the shoreline.

The pair of ships moved up the river and reached yet another fork. Here, there was one additional problem; a shortage of sleep and a surfeit of labor had produced a crew short on morale. They decided to make landfall, but it was not twenty paces before they were ambushed by natives, exotic paints and war cries aplenty. Here though, the refugees had one card up their sleeves; when they fled Cheliax the first time, they’d given themselves names from an obscure language known as Polyglot from the writings of one of the empire’s archaeologists, stolen as part of the texts pillaged when they ran. The idea was the people would distance themselves geographically and culturally from their former overlords, separating themselves in tongue as well. Over the generations, more of the language was learned until it was spoken in phrases varied enough by some of the population to be recognized by most of them. The Mwangi Expanse was the native place for that language, and so it was they called-out.

”Hold! We’re not enemies! We’re escaped slaves – please spare us!” At least, that’s what the studied among them attempted to say. It must’ve been passable enough, for the leader of the assailants held up a hand, and a few came forward to inspect them. Their scars, lack of clothing, injuries, and malnourishment were clear indicators of their honesty. The man nodded.

[b]”You’re not like the others from the big towns. Why do you have their ships?” Even through the warpaint on the dark man’s face, it was clear to see the pity he took on them. ”Come. I bring you to the masters.”

They took their supplies and captives from the craft – the latter seeming to earn more respect than the former from their escorts – and walked through winding paths through the jungle. After a few miles, they came to a small clearing with some tents, rocks forming a rough perimeter. To the surprise of the tribe, a man in mage’s robes exited one of the tents.
”Hello. You are the visitors the scouts have told me about? I am Hehu.” He had a kind smile to him, his piercings failing to give his benevolent countenance any reason for apprehension. ”I want to hear your story.”

After recounting it yet again, Hehu shook his head with sad eyes. ”You cannot stay here. Too much noise, not enough space. But you can head to Kibwe, three days’ boat upriver, four days’ travel inland.” He scratched his chin. ”I can send a message there for you. You give your boats as payment to the settlement close to the river. They will take you in, give you shelter and clothing. Deal?” The exiles accepted, and a week later, they found themselves in the trading settlement, settling into their tents, a respite in a trek of hardship.

Four years later, the now-named Riverfork tribe had adjusted well. They spoke fluent Polyglot, made themselves useful in their community, and had adjusted to “normal” life. Many started having children, some with the other residents of the town. A few had moved off to the coast on various trading ventures. No matter where they were or what they did though, all felt a mutual bond of having gone through their harrowing experiences together. Many lost some, but with no brothers and sisters and his parents and grandfather gone in the calamity, Kahurangi often felt alone, stranded, without purpose. Renaldo – having taken on “Rawiri” as a Polyglot name – had become inseparable with Kahurangi, yet their intimacy did not fill the loss he had. So it was one day when a wizard came through on a trade mission for alchemical herbs from the jungle, Kahurangi, a young man now, negotiated his way into being the woman’s apprentice. Not to be left alone, Rawiri followed suit. Saying his goodbyes, Marama and Ruru accepted their friend’s decision, though with differing reactions.

”You always were strong of choice, Kahu. Fortune shine on you.” The young lady, now an effective huntress, gave him a strong hug good-bye.

”You ever need some coin, you just send me a letter. Don’t you be too proud for a bit of charity – I won’t even make it a loan!” Ruru slapped him on the back in good spirits. The young man had developed into a savvy tradesman in his time here, though he probably spend half his revenue on women and wine.

The three left, eyes open to the path ahead through the Ndele Gap. The two apprentices wondered what Amara, their teacher, would show them in Quantium.

Under the sky the first night after breaking-out of the jungle, the three had been asleep when Kahurangi awoke to answer the call of nature. Extracting himself from Rawiri’s errant arm, he left their tent to water the bushes. Sighing, his eyes gazed heavenward. Full moon tonight. Looks bigger when you’re alone.

His thoughts wandered to his past, recalling the events back on the isles. Perhaps now he would fulfill what he was meant to do, the half-orc thought. Maybe I’ll train and use my spells to stop those slavers from doing those raids anymore. As young men sometimes do, he imagined himself in heroic scenes, saving bystanders with powerful fireballs and lightning bolts and all the other things he’d heard in fantastical tales. But … no, he was also an old soul, reality reigning-in his imagination before it got away from him. In that sense, he was a lot like Marama. He would have to use his talents for another end. But what?

As he finished-up, he looked back into the sky. The moonlight was bright, but the glow was more incandescent than he remembered, a twinge of gold seeping into the white surface somehow. It had also shrunk a bit, unless his eyes were playing tricks on him. Maybe it’s not when you’re alone, but the color that makes the size seem to change. He turned around to head back to camp.

Standing there was Amara, one of her hands in a channeling pattern, pointed in his direction. He jumped back in shock, then realized who it was.

”Amara! What are you doing?!”

”Boy, I haven’t even gotten you started with your training yet. You told me you didn’t have any experience!”

”I don’t, I –“

”Then what are you doing getting yourself a familiar?”

Kahurangi paused. ”What? I don’t have a pet.”
”Language really is the first thing we need to get down. We’ve talked about this. It’s not a [i]pet. It’s not a magical pet. It’s a familiar. And you most certainly do unless my senses are deceiving me – and I’m not that old.” She snorted in humor, making light of her advancing age.
”Not yet anyway,” added Rawiri with a yawn as he emerged from his tent. ”But she’s right, Kahu. You’ve got one flying above you, though damned if I know how you found it tonight.”

Tilting his head straight up, Kahurangi could see directly above him a small mammal floating in the air. It did not seem to be flying as Rawiri said, just hovering. Its webbed feet idled with slight oscillations, though nowhere enough to say it was paddling, and its plump tail sat motionless, not steering it whatsoever. In awe and surprise, the young half-orc watched as the creature levitated down to eye level in front of him, its dark beak not revealing its motives, the moon reflecting off its black eyes. Surrounding the creature was a nimbus of light, dimly illuminating the area around it. Kahurangi couldn’t seem to look away though, instead seeing the surroundings of the monotreme fade out of vision and the reflection of the moon in its eyes become larger and clearer, closer and closer, until he no longer recognized his surroundings at all.

He saw the moon coming closer to him, seeming to rush at his being, yet he could not seem to move. It wasn’t that he was stuck, but he didn’t feel he had a body to control. This is a dream. This has to be a dream, he told himself. Yet the moon came closer and closer and then … then he was flying past the moon. He was among the stars. So beautiful. So bright. Clouds beyond the sky he didn’t have names for of myriad colors came and went. Comets in proximity so close he could nearly feel their heat. And then … then there was darkness. Total, complete, absolute darkness. Fear began to creep in.
Am I dead?

Not a word, but a feeling to the negative came back in response, seemingly from the nether reaches of the heavens.

A … response?

Kahurangi tried his luck again, focusing his mind from the out-of-body experience.

Where am I?

Somehow he felt the presence of Amara and Rawiri nearby.

So I haven’t moved? This is just my imagination?

A divergent feeling seemed to come to develop, but he got better at detecting these feelings. No, not develop … arrive. From somewhere …

Briefly in the edges of space, he saw two glossy orbs with faint silver disks in them.

From the platypus!

A small jolt of positive energy came to him.

Why did you bring me here? You’re not hurting me.

Kahurangi felt a warm, uplifting current of wind beneath him. It wasn’t so much relaxing as it was … moving? No…

… helpful. You want to help me? Again a positive feeling arrived. Why?

A speck came into view, quickly approaching, surrounded by stars. The blue and green speck grew larger, closer until it resembled the largest map of Golarion Kahurangi recognized. The insight was startling, but shocking and angering was the portion of the map the vision closed-in upon: The isles of his youth. The time was right after the ships had left with them. He saw Chief Rongo’s body upon the shore, easily recognizable by his distinguishing dress, along with many of the other slain people. The scene stayed, going back over the corpses again and again.

Why?! Why are you showing me this?!”

After the third pass or so, he couldn’t help but connect the faces he knew. The population was under a thousand altogether, so he knew basically everyone. There’s the herbalist, a boatbuilder and his brother, the basket-weaver… Yet as he identified more and more of the bodies, there were less and less to identify. Then an idea hit him.

Where are my parents?

Yes, yes – they weren’t anywhere to be found. In fact, even when accounting for those in the ship, there were dozens and dozens still unaccounted for. Are they alive?! A jolt of positive energy. YESSSSSSSSSSS!.. Where are they?

A day passed in accelerated time, the dark and light cycling one more, before the view panned to show a set of survivors emerging from some caves. They hid? Cowardly…

Just as he was thinking better of his judgment, he felt himself saying/feeling in concert with the empath in this vision but they survived.

Many of the bodies were given a burial by the survivors, their grief plain to see. Yet a few were pulled to a burial site … yet not buried. In the distance, Kahurangi saw a few returning fishing ships. Ah, so some were still out to sea when the slavers arrived!

He watched the scene intently, some ritual being performed by one of the original elders he knew. It was taking a long time. Again, time seemed to accelerate itself. Patterns of herbs and oils were laid on these bodies, and some survivors – family from what he could recognize – came to mourn. Yet the elder did not seem sad, but she seemed hopeful. Ahurewa, mother of rites, what is it you are doing? As she seemingly finished each body, the family members – if any remained for the victim – departed. At last, she came to Chief Rongo, his corpse horrific without its head. The scene sickened Kahurangi. He didn’t deserve that. In response, an affirming feeling came from the cosmos around him, not simply an affirmation, but more of a personal vouching in agreement … but that was when two people stepped into view:

Mother! Father!

Had he a body at the moment, Kahurangi would have been crying. I had always wanted you to make it … I … I just couldn’t keep hoping. It hurt too much! I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help the others, I … I – “

It then occurred to him this was all the vision put in his head by some animal, a platypus of all creatures. They swam up the muddy rivers in Garund, feeding on their bottoms, seemingly ambivalent to the struggles of the world around them. Why do you care?! How do I know you’re telling the truth?! The young man was on an emotional rolled coaster, and though he was only in a vision, he didn’t think he could survive another steep drop of his spirits.

No empathic response came, but as the elder got near to finishing her ceremony, Henare stepped out of view for a moment, returning with something in his hands. As the rite’s final verse came into vocalization, he placed the object at the top of Chief Rongo’s spine, then placed a leaf over it. The object was his head, face still serene, yet eyes still open. His father went to close the eyelids with his fingers, and the field of view drew closer. Closer. Closer… and the rest of the world faded away except for that head. Yet the eyes, though the lids were pushed closed, still somehow peered through them, almost as if the covers were translucent.

Then they blinked, and a chill ran up Kahurangi’s actual spine as he gasped for breath. In the distance, he could hear voices calling his name.

But those eyes … they kept blinking, gazing into his heart. They darkened, the face morphing somehow, growing fuzzy…

”Kahu! Kahu!”

The countenance of the platypus emerged through the decapitated head, reflections of the moon in its eyes. You!.. You’re…

”KAHU!”

Kahurangi opened his eyes to see he was laying on the ground looking up at the stars. The platypus was floating impossibly above him, only the tip of its bill on his nose, its tail extending vertically into the sky.

Rawiri collapsed to the ground and hugged him. ”Man, I thought you were gone! Amara said you were fine, something about attuning to your spirit animal…”
Indeed, the older women was grinning at the pair. ”Just like I said, Rawiri. Give him some air though. That took a lot out of him.” Rawiri complied, rolling off of him. ”You two will have to coordinate on a name. It’s a personal decision –“

”How about Bill,” laughed Rawiri. ”Because the bill is what poked – “

”Not you two, you twit!” Amara judged Rawiri with her foot. ”Kahurangi and his spirit animal!”

”It can decide?” exclaimed Rawiri. ”If it can decide things, wouldn’t it have a name already?”

”This one does,” beamed Kahurangi, feeling more confident than he ever had while possessing more questions than he ever had. ”Chief Rongo.” With that, the young shaman sat up, pulled the platypus to his shoulder, and felt the warmest emotions radiate from his grandfather as they reconciled wordlessly.

The next morning, the trail seemed smoother, the weather more agreeable, and the world kinder.

”I still don’t get it. How do we know why he returned?” Rawiri asked.

”One more time,” said Amara in her teacher’s tone. ”Kahurangi’s grandfather was reincarnated. It’s a technique only experienced mages connected to the natural order can perform, and it sounds just like what your new shaman told us in the vision. If being with your family isn’t enough, we know there’s more of Kahurangi’s family out there – or at least there was, to be pessimistic – waiting to be reconciled. This is something that should be shared with both pieces of the fractured tribe – both the Riverfork and the old islanders. The strength of his grandfather’s spirit allowed him to extend the surroundings between his death and the ritual’s completion through the vision.”

”But where would he find them then?”

”You’re asking the right questions, but you’ve got to think about the answers for yourself instead of asking me all the time, Rawiri,” chided Amara, who then sighed. ”I don’t know. There are diviners strong enough to help figure that out in Quantium. That’s expensive though.”

”So you’re not going to help?” This was Kahurangi’s turn.

”Did I say that?” exclaimed the mage. ”My goodness, it’s just like the pygmies back there. One blow dart after another, an endless barrage of needles in your side, ambushing you before you can even breathe!”

The two men chuckled a bit, but their ears were keen for the response in the silence following.

”This is a special case. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I’m curious as you are, and what’s an aging widow going to spend her coin on? Sure, I’ll help. But it’s conditional – you have to expand your talent first.”

”But –“

”No buts. If your parents are anywhere near that part of the world still, they’re probably not in the same spot. Too much heartbreak, plus those of the Chelish empire hold grudges a long time – they’ll be back to cleanse whoever remains before long. The only reason they didn’t stay that time is because they had a schedule to keep, I’d wager” She took a bite of an apple. ”So it’s not like rushing is going to do you any good.”

The woman turned to look into Kahurangi’s eyes. ”And you know better. You actually do. Ah, my boy, I’m sorry. The wheel of fortune has given you a bad spin of events. But think of it this way – the next spin is just that much likely to be better.” Another bit of the green fruit was consumed by Amara. ”I know a priestess of Desna in the city who can help you, but she’s a busy lady. Lots of injuries to mend, diseases to cure.” Amara discarded the core.

What Amara hadn’t revealed was her tarot reading that day had a long journey with danger ahead of the young men, with particular catastrophe if they set out together. So it was she trained them in the meantime, biding her time – and coin – until the priestess would see her. In those years, the pair of young men differentiated their talent. Kahurangi was given to being a conduit of divine energies, his connection solidified with his grandfather’s spirit. Rawiri, on the other hand, had no such conductivity, instead needing to learn magic through the books as she did. It was good she was able to assist him in that manner, her expertise in that area accelerating her tutelage of the human. He almost reminded her of her own son, but that was a memory not to be refreshed, less grief consume her.

After many seasons had passed, the time had arrived for the next step in the journey. The appointment was made with the priestess, the four souls making their way to her.

”Ah, Jessica, it has been some time.” Amara and the clergywoman exchanged a greeting as the two men looked on from the entry to the church out of earshot.

”Harrower Miller, you know what schedule I keep for exchanges of potent magic. But a divination of this power for your student? You must fancy him deeply.” The priestess smiled, her eyes yielding her familiarity with the other woman.

Amara rolled her eyes. ”Hardly. I’m old enough to be their mother, and they’re more interested in each other anyway.” She leaned forward. ”The boy’s grandfather had enough potency in his spirit to linger after death, provide a vista of it via reincarnation, and deliver it after tracking him down as a spirit animal.”

Jessica peeked over at Kahurangi, then leaned back to Amara. ”But a platypus?”

”Never mind that. The spirit world has mysterious ways, we both know that. But he was already gone. Pharasma doesn’t brook that kind of spirit-shuffling lightly. There’s something bigger afoot here.”

Nodding with a business-like melancholy, the priestess conceded. ”I see. Well, Let’s see what we can see!” She looked over at the men and waved them over. ”Come on back, all of you.”

She led them back into a dark room, a crystal ball sitting on a table with black velvet in its center. She sat on a chair behind it, the three of them in chairs on the other site, Kahurangi directed towards the middle one, Chief Rongo on his shoulder.

”Harrower Miller has told me what I need to know to guide this divination, but Kahurangi, it is you who must inquire of the divine to start it.”

The young shaman took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. ”I wish to know how I can meet with the survivors of my tribe that didn’t come to Garund.”

The priestess began her incantation, words and echos filling the chamber. It was already dark, but light seemed to be sucked towards the crystal ball as it slowly levitated in the air. Crush diamonds were pulled from a pack and drizzled on top of the sphere, seeming to augment the brightness of the light sucked into it. All was blank for a moment. Then many moments. And then an image appeared. A storm, high in the sky as the vision came lower. Many rivers, seemingly splitting everywhere. The rain became hail, and the hail became balls of ice, plummeting into the ground like cold meteors. Or comets, thought Kahurangi.

These hailballs became golden in color and then became to take on a new shape. They elongated, hollowed themselves out, and sprouted a cap of sorts. Twinkling gems up the sides adorned the dressings as they plummeted from above.

They were crowns.

Yet for objects so small as the vision came closer to the ground, they made large dents. Craters, splashes, they left scars upon the land, unforgivingly crashing into it, uncaring of the destruction they caused. Then one crown of something else – off-white in shade – plummeted. Though it killed a stag in its descent, it did not strike the ground, stopping instead above it, levitating. It was smaller than the other crowns, and the vision focused-in on it. As the crown rotated, it was clear numerous gems were missing; it looked like it had not been fully-set yet. The crown then faded into a sparkle in the distance, the world fading away.

Stars began to pop into view in the sky, a few at a time, then a plethora, until the nighttime sky was populated. The viewers leaned-in, gazing into the pattern few a few minutes until the vision expired.

They all sat back.

”Did any of that mean anything to you, Kahurangi?”

He thought a moment. ”There is a new kingdom?”

She nodded. ”Or there will be a new kingdom.

Amara held her chin, thinking. [b]”There are a lot of kingdoms though. Kingdoms cause strife.” She was thinking back to her earlier reading, concerned.

Rawiri laughed. ”But he’s royalty it looks like! Or the tribe is now! Either way, that’s good.”

Kahurangi wasn’t in as high of spirits. I don’t know were to go from here though! That could describe a lot of places in the world. It didn’t help Chief Rongo was fidgeting. ”Okay, looks like I have to take Chief Rongo outside. Thanks for your trouble, priestess.”

The platypus floated through the air behind him, poking at his ears with his bill. ”Okay, okay. What do you want?” The two stepped through the doors. It was dusk when they came, and the sun was just beginning to set. As usual, the sparkling of the stars in the night sky began to appear on Chief Rongo’s fur…

That was it

”Great thinking, Chief!” Kahurangi dashed back inside. ”Come quick. Chief Rongo knows where the vision is saying to go!” Not quite sharing his enthusiasm, the others walked outside.

”This better be worth my coin,” muttered Amara as they exited the building. ”Ah, oh yes. How resourceful.”

The four gathered around the platypus as they worked together to decipher the star chart. It was Rawiri who came up with the final place of agreement. ”Looks like Northeastern Avistan would put you in the right spot. Not quite at the Lake of Mists and Veils, but closer to it than Lake Encarthan.”

”Those are the River Kingdoms,” continued Amara. ”Unstable. Dangerous. Would explain the crowns though.”

”And the rivers,” added Jessica. ”You can get passage upriver there, but that is a long journey.”

”No longer than the one I had getting to Quantium from Kibwe – or to Kibwe from Bloodcove – or –“ Chief Rongo regained his perch on Kahurangi’s shoulder. The link between them felt stronger than it had in a while. ”And it looks like I have grandfather’s support.”

”Great!” exclaimed Rawiri. ”When do we go?”

”You,” Amara set a hand on his shoulder, ”aren’t going anywhere. You’re not as apt as your friend yet, and you two still have an agreement to provide me service for a time yet. This visit wasn’t cheap.”

”So why does he get to go?”

Amara shrugged. ”I’m feeling generous.”

”But not generous enough for me?”

”That’s right.”

Jessica giggled and turned to Amara. ”Maybe if this one is diligent, we can expedite the end of his agreement.”

Amara stared back at her. ”Those details are for us to work out later. Right now, I need the help with refining reagents. A few more shops have opened-up recently, and the competition is driving me mad. My fingers aren’t as fast as they used to be.”

With the bickering behind them, they had a warm meal, and Kahurangi was off on the next ship North with Chief Rongo. What awaited him in those lands remained to be seen, but the young shaman had perseverance on his side, fear behind him, and destiny ahead of him.

They stopped at Cassomir before taking smaller craft upriver, the reflection of the cosmos on the platypus guiding his choices when switching craft. After a few ship changes, they seemed to be close to the right place on the chart. It was a good thing too – they’d reached the end of the line in charted territory, unexplored reaches to the East.

As the pair walked about the city of Restov, they overheard conversations about a Stag King, some sort of bandit leader. Just like in the vision. Maybe once he’s gone, I can fulfill the vision and bring my tribe back together. Determined to fulfill the divination, the young man and his grandfather set out to rendezvous with any who might be looking to stop that thief. His end would be their beginning, and Kahurangi was looking forward to it.

I am glad you like the backstory. The elements that are missing will be pretty easy to write down. As I was writing it, the other parts pretty much outlined themselves in my mind. I will put them together and send them over to you.

When I wrote up his personality, I spent a long time just looking at what was written, trying to figure out the missing parts. So I agree with you, but I am not sure what is missing either. I will poke it a few more times and see what falls out.

The idea is to take him into a full-build switch hitter. My combat style is ranged, so all of those will be ranged types of feats. Most of the others will be melee or whatever. I stumbled across this idea a while back and the use of the Stamina rules just make it easier to pull off. :)

Dunreek and his parents grew up in the wilds of Brevoy, it was the only place that would be accepting if a Drow and human marriage. His parents taught him the way of nature, how to track and hunt, how to not get lost in the wilds. Dunreek spent all of his childhood and most of his adult life alone in the woods, he hated being a half elf with a Drow parent, this prevent him from entering communities without his parents around, a hood up or lots of prep to look more human than Drow.

Dunreek’s passion was map making, he would spend days out surveying the land. He would sell the maps to the local lords to help with defense of their lands or with finding new and untapped resources. After hearing that the Swordlords of Brevoy had issued charters to any and all who were willing to head south and reclaim the stolen lands he set out to find a group who would accept him. Dunreek arrived too late to join the initial groups who set out. Dunreek did not dismay, he had the skills and know how to track down the groups and assist them even if they didn’t know it. He set out at once to the south, hoping that the groups where not that far ahead of him.

... That was a backstory, alright. You met my one requirement--why in the world did you have a platypus--so there's that. If selected I'd like to know your thoughts on what his vision might mean and how you'd like that to show up over the course of the game, as well as how it might relate to his parents. I think that your backstory is definitely very interesting and gives a lot to work with in the future, I'd just like to know how you picture it going assuming you make it into the game. No need to write it down now, necessarily, but I'd just recommend thinking on it.

As for mechanics, the only thing that sticks out is the possession of a handy haversack and a bag of holding, as well as your spare money. I'm guessing that's a holdover from a previous iteration of the character.

Sounds good to me, on both counts.

If your interested in a switch-hitter build, did you consider using a weapon that can add dexterity to damage in melee? It would mean a minor hit in terms of damage in melee but it would give you an increase to attack and damage at range. Just a thought.

That's a little better, yeah. I like to know a lot about the characters in my games, as I don't follow the AP exactly as written and will have a tendency to fit in things with plot hooks from people's backstories so as to make them more involved in the game world.

It feels odd to type that as we have the same name!

The profile format was a copy-paste from another alias as I don't have Herolab or any other program to write profile formatting for me. Like I said, I will swap the items to something more appropriate when it is established under exactly what circumstances Kahurangi is sent from Restov to meet the group (weather, current local events, etc.). Mechanically, he's a spellcaster with a focus on healing and augmentation, so it's not like you're going to see any gamebreaking weapons or whatnot in there.

What I have in mind is the kingdom yet to be constructed by the party will act as a beacon for the split portions of Kahurangi's tribe to gather around. Those in Garund don't need a place, but it may be more hospitable to them than the savage jungle. The portion of his tribe in Avistan could be dealing with any number of dangers and would likely see the area as a prime spot to relocate. I figure once enough funding can be gathered for a scry/one we are of appropriate level to cast one, Kahurangi can contact his family without much trouble and schedule the migration. The vision Jessica guided will steer Kahurangi towards making the land sustainable and safe, but Amara's harrowing - and future harrowings, should she be connected further in the campaign - may help Kahurangi lean in a certain direction.

As the DM, you of course have the power to use the characters in his background to nudge things in whichever direction you like. I tried to give you a good number of characters in various parts of the world to work with in that regard.

I'd neglected to mention kingdom-building roles, but I think Kahurangi might be a good fit for treasurer; he would be concerned their established land could sustain the influx of his tribe, not just with food but also shelter and security - and that doesn't come cheap.

Do you foresee any conflicts he would cause? Even if not, feedback is appreciated to make the segue from submission to entry, if chosen, as smooth as possible. I'm guessing this time is the start of a term for you and thus beneficial to make the transition during, so I was concerned I wouldn't be able to finish my story on time!

What a coincidence on the name! I chose it as my DM alias because I like to be personable with my players.

Ah, I didn't notice that in your original post when it came to your spells and inventory, my mistake. I'm not super familiar with the shaman spell list so I didn't catch it on that.

I like the idea you have when it comes to kingdom building and how it interacts with your character, I think it makes a lot of sense. Saving up resources in order to locate your people and bring them to your new settlements makes a lot of sense as a long-term goal for the character, and one that's doable and in keeping with how the AP tends to work. I also agree that you have quite a wealth of characters for me to toy around with in the future, but I do have a question for you about a specific kind of character you don't have anywhere; are there any characters in particular that would be a villain for Kahurangi? An explicit antagonist in his story that might show up again down the line?

My next (and last, hopefully anyway) semester starts the 23rd, so I'm very free at this point. However, I appreciate your concern! I don't see any real conflicts with your character joining the party, though.

Also, I like your idea as to why he might go for the role of Treasurer, that's a neat take.

There are a few possibilities I can think of at the moment:

1. The Chelish inquisitor that spearheaded the executions from the islands his tribe were on during his childhood.

2. One of the naval officers in Bloodcove smeared by their escape with a long memory and length reach.

3. Unlike Rawiri, it's entirely possible the other captive on the boat resented being captured even after the humane treatment. Perhaps he lost friends in the skirmish and wants revenge.

4. Perhaps the idea of reunification of the tribes doesn't go smoothly as they may have changed in cultures somewhat during their separation, the tossed salad vs. melting pot conflict being difficult to overcome.

5. With the lineage and customs of the tribe being what they are, there could be a lot of contest for power. Technically, Kahurangi is exempt from leadership, yet if Henare was reunited and attempted to exert authority over the Riverfork? That could be problematic.

6. Romantic conflicts are always a possibility unless that's not something you care to have in your games. Half-orcs aren't known for having a lack of ... passion, and Kahurangi is a young male.

Feel free to make your own though if you'd like!

Thanks for that, I'll keep those in mind.

I'm fine with romantic conflicts, especially in Kingmaker. The game, as I've said before, could span multiple decades with how the rules are designed, so such things feel like a natural extension of that.

Crunchy-to be honest, I haven't run a druid before. I felt that he fit with the overall theme of the game and that it might be fun. As for how I plan to run him, I think that I want to develop him as the skirmisher, and far rider. The idea of the far rider is more the RP vs crunch concept, where he is the person who rides the land and is able to gather information and travel both quickly and safely across the wilds. The mounted combat will get him through the first few levels I think. It will also provide some tactical flexibility in the future. So that is where his first two feats come in.

As soon as wildshape is available, I plan on getting the feats to improve his wildshape abilities, to help in combat. I would like to eventually transition him up to stronger/deadlier mounts. Including working on flying mounts at higher levels.

Rough outline for Druid circle - Eventually Orvin will have to make a new druid circle. While he was trained by the circle in the north, Tallowhen has a very different perspective about the wild and the need to protect the wild than Orvin does. Tallowhen is driven mainly by his experiences with the depredations of the wild by his family (open-pit coal mining and clear-cut logging). He saw plenty of environmental damage, and heard nature cry out, so he is a bit more radical and more extreme in his protectionism. He has a hard line against anyone who would encroach on the wild. Not evil, just hard-core. He would most certainly kill to make a point and feel it justified. An incident with a family of charcoal burners where Orvin had to spirit them away before Tallowhen came to destroy them is a potential source of conflict in the future. Tallowhen knows that someone thwarted him from making his statement, but he isn’t sure who it was.

Tallowhen will eventually realize how different his and Orvin's methods are and may feel a strong sense of betrayal.

Rough outline for family - brothers and sisters continue to grow up. But now since their brother has left the farm, the youngest kids all have it in their head to do the same thing. So Jilla, Breni and Eren will all potentially come south to make their way, either to start a business, or become an adventurer like Jilla. I think that one of them might try to become an apprentice. Or the first member of a new circle in the south.

Minas has never been comfortable standing out in any setting. A shy child and a quiet, even mannered adult, he has mostly been happy to fade into the background. Although this has changed somewhat in recent years it is still very much a defining part of him. Standing at a relatively average height, with black hair and brown eyes he lacks many distinguishing physical features. He tends to dress in respectable clothing when possible, preferring either dark or earth tone colors, again never really seeking to stand out or make a loud, obvious impression with his appearance. Some people seem to be born charismatic, always knowing what to say, a joke to tell or the right question to ask. Others are built like draft horses, easily building up muscle and strength of arm, often using it to impress or protect others around them. Minas was never really either of those things, in fact when he was younger it was often hard for him to understand how to connect to people. Logically he could analyze their actions and see how or why they might make the choices they did, but connecting with them was always difficult. Part of the reason he chose to work as a messenger was so that he would be forced to interact with a wide variety of people. He forced himself to get out of his comfort zone and learn how to better relate to people with a variety of backgrounds and personalities. And although he’s gotten much better at getting along with people on a personal level, not just a professional or analytical one, it never came naturally to him. The one aspect of Minas’ personality that always stood out naturally was his intelligence. Minas was able to pick up various skills with relative ease and could absorb various facts or trivia easily. He was a voracious reader, his years as a scribe were largely so that he could have an excuse to read the scrolls and books he was transcribing or translating. And above his intelligence Minas showed a special aptitude at organization, he loved to look at a problem and figure out not just a solution but how to streamline and make the whole process more efficient. This might come off as somewhat overbearing or pompous at times but one of Minas always likes to have a plan. After all, as he is fond of saying, “A failure to plan is a plan to fail.”

Minas was born in New Stetven, his father one of the many tradesmen that seek to profit off trade with the northern lands. Minas learned to speak at a fairly young age but was always very shy and quiet. His mother thought that he was having trouble learning, in part because he would occasionally say things that made no sense to her. One day, when he was talking about something, his father overheard and started laughing. It turned out that Minas had picked up several Hallit words from some Kellid traders that his father dealt with regularly. He had been mixing them into what he was saying to his mother. His father encouraged Minas’ interest in learning Hallit, as well as other languages, saying that it was easier to make a sale if you could speak a man’s language. As Minas got older his father encouraged him to spend some time talking to some of the Varisian travelers who came though and generally see if he could pick up any language he heard around New Stetven. Although he was nervous, he was proud that his father thought his learning languages was useful and applied himself to the task with a singular focus. So by the time he was ten years old he could speak Common, Hallit and Varisian more or less fluently and had somehow managed to pick up bits and pieces of Dwarven.

Minas was able to get a job as an apprentice to one of the scribes in town, an older man who copied and translated various scrolls and books for anyone passing through. Minas’ father had known the man for a few years, ever since he had sought his help assessing the value of a set of tomes he had bought off as passing adventurer. It quickly became apparent that Minas’ ear for language extended to writing as well and he proved a valuable assistant to the elder scribe for six years. Unfortunately when he was sixteen his mother fell terribly ill. He began studying everything he could find about medicine, alchemy, healing, but there wasn’t much that could be done. His father spent a good portion of their family’s savings seeking the help of various healers in the area but in the end it only bought them a couple more years. Minas’ father took the loss extremely hard, he started drinking and his business suffered for it. That more than anything encouraged Minas to seek more serious employment. With a recommendation from the elder scribe, who was nearing retirement by this point, he was given a position writing and carrying missives for various important persons in nearby Restov. Minas saw it as a good chance to travel and meet people. Up until that point his world had been very small. He didn’t get out much and had few friends, relating to people was hard for him. As someone tasked with penning and carrying various documents, it was a part of his job to learn how to get along with people and convey his employers wishes respectfully and accurately.

In the last four years Minas has built up a reputation for an organized, efficient worker with exquisite penmanship and a way with words. For Minas’ part he has slowly become more comfortable interacting with people on a personable level, rather than a purely professional one. Over the last few months he was put on a new route, out to a place on the very edge of civilization called Oleg’s Trading Post. Whenever he had a day or two holdover at Oleg’s he would beg stories from the man of the adventurers’ deeds on behalf of the Swordlords out in the wilderness. A part of Minas wished that he could be like them, going on grand adventures, but he knew that at this point his father depended on the money he was able to send back to New Stetven every month. He hoped that the latest inspiring story of how one particular group had saved Oleg’s from some bandits might raise his father’s spirits at least. Occasionally when he was able to visit his father would gain back a bit of his former vigor talking about the adventurers he had known and traded with back in his youth. Unfortunately he never got to talk with his father about what he had heard. When he arrived back in Restov he had a letter waiting for him saying that his father had passed away. Apparently he’d left the bar far too drunk one night, calling for his several years dead wife. Somehow he had managed to slip on an embankment and fell to the bottom, breaking his neck. Perhaps that kind of grief and stress wasn’t the right mindset to make such a big decision, but once Minas set his mind on something it was hard to stop him. After the burial, he bought a sword and some outdoor goods and gear. Then he penned a letter to his superiors that he was taking a leave to answer the call of the Swordlords. Minas Terran the scribe and messenger was going to become an adventurer, the kind of person that his father had been so proud to deal with all those years ago.

Party Role: So he's built to be the ultimate team player. Its a support concept that I like for Pathfinder more than a heal-bot. Healing in pathfinder seems reactive and I think a good support is better to be preventative. In combat he'll be getting up to provide flanking, spread out his teamwork feats to allies, and making use of aid another/helpful to give out +3 to attack or AC. He'll be getting Effortless Aid asap to better facilitate that. He's also a total skill money, tons of skill points and training in most skills available. When he tosses out those inspiration knowledge checks there's not much he cant gain info on to help the party out.

Kingdom Role: Im probably aiming for either Treasurer or perhaps Spymaster. I like the idea of a simple, plain looking man who is good with paperwork being the leader of a massive spy network of messengers and informants. Either way he'll use his organizational skills and intelligence to help out in one of those two roles in all likelihood.

Minas Terran
Male human investigator (majordomo) 2 (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Class Guide 30, Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Intrigue 35)
LN Medium humanoid (human)
Init +6; Senses Perception +5
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Defense
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AC 16, touch 12, flat-footed 14 (+4 armor, +2 Dex)
hp 20 (2d8+4)
Fort +1, Ref +5, Will +3; +2 bonus vs. poison
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor)
Melee rapier +3 (1d6-1/18-20)
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Statistics
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Str 9, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 20, Wis 10, Cha 12
Base Atk +1; CMB +0; CMD 12
Feats Extra Inspiration[ACG], Improved Initiative, Precise Strike[APG], Weapon Finesse
Traits helpful, student of philosophy
Skills Acrobatics +3 (-1 to jump), Appraise +9, Bluff +6 (+10 to lie (as a result of using Int instead of Cha)), Climb +0, Diplomacy +6 (+10 to persuade others but not to gather information (as a result of using Int instead of Cha)), Disable Device +1, Disguise +5, Escape Artist +3, Heal +4, Intimidate +5, Knowledge (arcana) +9, Knowledge (dungeoneering) +9, Knowledge (local) +9, Knowledge (nature) +9, Knowledge (nobility) +9, Knowledge (psionics) +9, Knowledge (religion) +9, Linguistics +11 (+12 to spot a forgery, deal with paperwork, and notice discrepancies in paperwork), Perception +5, Sense Motive +5, Sleight of Hand +3, Spellcraft +9, Stealth +3, Use Magic Device +5
Languages Common, Draconic, Dwarven, Elven, Hallit, Sylvan, Varisian
SQ delegate (1 feat, 5 rounds, standard action, 1/day), inspiration (9/day), paper trail +1, poison lore
Other Gear lamellar (leather) armor[UC], rapier, bedroll, canteen[UE], concealment coin, hemp rope (50 ft.), ink (2), inkpen (2), journal[UE] (2), masterwork backpack[APG], masterwork tool [linguistics], measuring cord (10 ft.) (2), paper (10), powder[APG] (2), scroll case, stationery[UE], tea ceremony set[UE], trail rations (5), waterproof bag[UE], 40 gp, 9 sp
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Special Abilities
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Delegate (1 feat, 5 rounds, standard action, 1/day) (Ex) Grant allies within 30 ft. one of your bonus teamwork feats to persue a noncombat task.
Inspiration (+1d6, 9/day) (Ex) Use 1 point, +1d6 to trained skill or ability check. Use 2 points, to add to attack or save.
Paper Trail +1 (Ex) Bonus to checks dealing with paperwork. Learn about document writer with Linguistics check.
Poison Lore (Ex) After 1 min can use Know to ID poisons, 1 min more to neutralize with Craft (alchemy).
Precise Strike +1d6 precision damage for melee attacks if you and an ally with this feat flank the same target.