Mantisbane Pact with GM Zek

Game Master Zektolna

As a youth, Quovex lived as many half-elves did – between two cultures. His elven father and human mother had distant connections. Kortian Serris came and went from Greengold as his service in the royal family’s guard allowed to visit his beloved Vera. A distinct position, Quovex’s father never bragged about it, yet his sense of duty was absolute and inflexible; to disagree with his responsibilities made one incorrect and intrusive. Vera was the only person who got to break that rule, and even then not all the time. As Quovex’s mother and a merchant, Vera probably shared more experiences with his son than his father, yet over less shared time; her travels to and from Absalom suppliers kept her away at weeks for a time. Occasionally, she would bring her son along. Occasionally, he would learn a trade or two. Occasionally, he would make a friend.

One such friend was another half-elf named Elena. Though the two met each other as old children, their friendship had matured over the years. Vera liked the girl, but she didn’t see the practicality in the arrangement as the pair could not be united for any long period of time; Elena’s family were important members of the district governments in the city-state, and she herself said she had no plans to leave. Kortian had forbidden Quovex from resettling outside the country “so long as he served the queen”; evidently, though his son’s mixed blood at earned him the cold shoulder from most of his people, a glass half-full was still enough for his father to covet out of some strange, vicarious amalgamation of patriotism and biology. Obedient as he was though, Quovex learned on his next journey to Absalom Elena had died of a sickness spread from the puddle district. Console him as she tried, Vera could not bridge the chasm of despair her son fell into. Over the course of a few years, Quovex grew into a quiet, distant, young adult.

Death was not something he’d much been accustomed to. While Kyonin and Razmiran had sour relations, the two countries had an unofficial truce at the treeline, so no significant fatalities occurred through war. The magic-savvy elves kept diseases at bay. As expert woodsmen, natural dangers scarred them little. Rare as it was, the young half-elf attempted to take solace in nature. On one of his walks during a trip with Vera, he met with a small circle of druids in the Verduran Forest. Their way of life appealed to Quovex – simple, no strings attached. He’d eschewed attachment since Elena’s passing in an effort to protect himself against future sadness, and forging a life from the land seemed a perfect way to continue onward in some self-sufficient manner to Quovex. Upon returning to Kyonin, however, his father didn’t see it that way:

”A tree-warden? You could do a lot better than that!”
His spirits slumped; Quovex hadn’t been expressly forbidden to pursue that path as there were plenty of druids in Kyonin, but the disappointment was like a dagger in his side. Even his mother seemed to withhold support.

”All I’m saying is I can’t make trips into the middle of the forest to see you. You know we take boats down the river for speed as it is, and I’m not helping horses trot over vines.”
The lack of scaffolding from his family was irritating to Quovex though.

”Not one offer from either of you for a job of your own though? Not a letter of recruitment from the guards? Not an apprenticeship in the merchants’ guild?!”

His parents knew that wasn’t all that was required, yet their son’s predicament shamed them enough to open his pursuit of druidism unabated. So it was he set off to meet his new mentors. His main elder, Prodem, introduced him to divine magic and the old ways. However, it was his peer – Farraklor – from whom he learned the most. Farraklor was a bastard byproduct from the conflict between Lastwall and the Hold of Belkzen. As strong as he was kind, the half-orc was first to help Quovex with labor and last to relinquish his spoken defense of his friend during a dispute.

Try as he might to maintain his ambivalence, Quovex found himself drawn to the initiate druid. Farraklor reminded him of the friendship Elena had made with him. After many months, it was clear to the half-elf the unspoken accord was something more though. Almost without realizing it, the two had become interdepended on each other, functioning as a pair. So it was they completed their training – not as two distinct units, but facets of a common soul.
Prodem was brimming with pride as he finished the rites. ”Two spirits devoted to the land, one heart to guide their hands. Dawnwolf and Duskwolf, may Gozreh watch over you as you protect and nurture Golarion.”

After the ceremony, Quovex was happy, though nervous. Farraklor seemed to sense this and walked up beside him; he was taller, so it was easy for the half-orc to catch him.

”You’re not going to say anything? We’re part of the same tribe now. A pack, really,” puzzled-out the more rugged of the two.

”I’m Duskwolf? I guess orcs are still seen as dark to the rest of you!”

”Oh, stop it.” deflected Quovex. ”You know that doesn’t have anything to do with it. Prodem probably broken a wishbone over it or something.” Yet that explanation, possible as it were, sounded hollow to the half-elf the moment he said it.

”What do you think it is then? It’s like we’re married.”
Farraklor’s response made Quovex stop in his tracks.

”What?”

There was something about the way he’d remembered Elena when interacting with Farraklor that gave him pause after that comment, especially after the ceremony. The druids spoke about reincarnation. She can’t be part of Farraklor though. He was around before she died.

”Dawnwolf? Hey?”

Duskwolf grabbed his arm, and Dawnwolf looked at him. His heart skipped a beat.

”Well, I guess we are, Rak.” Old names died hard, especially when entwined with old memories. ”I feel … well, I feel like I’ve known you for longer than we’ve been here, and we’re going to be living together now. We’re going to have to make do on our own, down by the river. It’s just like having a different name for it.”

Duskwolf smirked. ”’It’?” He let out a deep laugh. ”You don’t need a wedding to have names for ‘it’,” winked the half-orc.

Normally, Quovex would have laughed and joked along, but it was almost as if he were watching himself outside his body. ”No, you don’t.” He stepped forward and gave Rak a big hug. He could feel the surprise by the other druid, but he reciprocated. Looking up at him, Quovex saw his friend’s expression was no longer jocular, but deeper, more sincere. The hug was followed by a kiss, and that night was followed by many more.

Dawnwolf and Duskwolf found their spot to settle and had many memories making their new home. The relationship-changer aside, post-initiation had a much more practical worry for Dawnwolf: He’d never been able to entice animals enough to keep one as a conduit to the wild. Duskwolf was a natural though, and their common name didn’t help matters; one was supposed to attract the animal which formed their name as their conduit. After a few weeks, Duskwolf had enticed a wolf with a jet black coat to join his side, yet Dawnwolf had no such luck. Animals responded positively towards him, yet only in acquaintance. The relationship wasn’t as deep as Duskwolf’s with Nightwolf – his ‘pup’.

As the three returned from a hunt to camp, Duskwolf butchered the deer, Nightwolf panted expectantly laying down by the fire, and Dawnwolf prepared the implements for the meal.

”What are you going to do to get your pup?” asked Duskwolf, efficient in his rending sinew from bone.

Dawnwolf shrugged. ”You know, I remember the other circle – back in the Verduran Forest. They said not all druids have a connection with animals. Others can have one just with nature.”
Laughing, Duskwolf passed his mate the meat. ”With what? A plant, a rock? I couldn’t ask for someone better than my pup!” Nightwolf looked at his pack leader, as if knowing he was being addressed. That’s one sharp canine…

”I don’t know. I guess it will happen when it happens.” Though Duskwolf had jested with him, Dawnwolf knew it was in good spirits; he would have been worried about his progress with finding a conduit, but he felt so at ease around his friend, the anxiety slipped away. ”Maybe I’ll take a trip to see them again and ask.”

”You? You mean we.” The half-orc scratched Nightwolf’s ears.

”Pup’s coming too.”

After cooking the meat, Dawnwolf served it and the family at their fill – Nightwolf probably most of all. ”Now where,” said Duskwolf, licking his fingers, ”Did you learn to cook like that?”

”My mother,” replied Dawnwolf flatly. ”I told you, remember?”

Duskwolf nodded after a moment. ”Yeah, I forget some people have those.” The sadness hung in the air for a moment before being dispelled by his next inflection. ”Wait a minute. She still does that trade route? She could bring us by their forest. That’s how you got there before!”

He’d tried to avoid this, but Dawnwolf saw little way around it now. ”Well, you might get her to take us, but I’m not sure she’s going to let such a big ‘pup’ on her ship. Besides, I really don’t need my father breathing down my neck again.”

Smiling, the provoking Duskwolf sealed the deal. ”No way I’m missing that entertainment. I haven’t seen a good tiff since the inns in Lastwall. We’re going!”

So it was the trio made their way to Greengold. Dawnwolf had no way of knowing if his father would be there or not, but his mother’s ship in port made it clear she was present. The family approached her on the docks.

”Quovex? Is that you?” Though half-elves weren’t uncommon in the town, one with hair the color of wheat down his back standing on the same dock as his mother narrowed the possibilities down. She stepped forward and gave him a hug and kiss on the forehead. ”And who’s this?”

”Duskwolf,” responded the owner of the name before the son had a chance to respond, clasping the hand she had started to withdraw in a strong business shake. ”We finished our initiation together. Dawnwolf and I are wardens of the river on the North banks.” The large canine had stepped forward to sniff the woman’s legs, going back to an easy-going disposition shortly afterwards. ”He’s Nightwolf.”

”Dawnwolf? They have you change your name.”
Dawnwolf sighed. ”No, but you have a druid name once you’re a druid among them. We came here to ask a favor…” and with that, they’d secured passage as needed.

After a few days’ sail, they found the edge of the Verduran Forest and bid Vera farewell. ”I’ll get you on the return trip!” waved Dawnwolf’s mother. The crew had been receptive enough to Duskwolf after warming-up to him, and they seemed captivated by his tales of hardship from childhood West of Lake Encarthan. Yet their reception on the shore was different. No druids for found on the coast. In fact, it wasn’t until they’d ventured a few miles inland the trio found any. Truth be told, it was four who found them, shifting into human form after dropping from trees as woodland creatures.

”What brings you to our forest?” Territorial and bellicose, this was not the same welcoming tone Dawnwolf had experienced before. He attempted to transmute their attitude by speaking in druidic – which partially worked.
”I guess our ravens haven’t been out that way. Disaster’s struck; the archdruid has rejoined the earth before his time, and our relics are gone.” The woman shook her head. ”Something ill is afoot, I fear.”

Nevertheless, she took them to the circle’s camp, and they were treated with proper, albeit somber, hospitality. Nobody seemed to know the motive of the attack or the organization of the assailants, who’d slain five druids. Descriptions were given, but none of the collective had jobs in urban security for a large civilization; the trail was cold. Even their best bloodhounds and tracking birds couldn’t aid them. The only good news was as recently as the attack took place, there weren’t any subsequent assaults. Yet, anyway.

The next day, the trio asked one of the elders the question on Dawnwolf’s mind. ”What will my connection to nature look like?” She smiled back, only giving him a fortune-teller’s response. ”You’ll know it when you see it. It’s different for everyone. Mine is to the trees of the forest. His is to the ants underground. We’ve all had an event that stands-out to us though, reminds us of that connection. We could never forget it.”
Well, I certainly haven’t had that yet, thought a disappointed Dawnwolf.

Disappointed and saddened by the events there, the pack made their way back to the shore for Vera – she was set to arrive that evening. The winds were good, but a storm was brewing. I hope we get on the ship before then. Right on time, the masterful merchant sailed up to them at sunset. While she empathized with her son’s disappointment, she was happy to see him again, and they exchanged accounts of their travels.

During that evening, the storm grew worse and worse. The river was large, but their ship was still not meant for being set into the silt. However, it was something Vera ordered as the winds became too strong to make headway. Heavy rains and lightning began to fill the sky. It was relaxing to sleep to, but as the druids lay in their chamber, a crackling explosion woke them. The sky was pitch black on account of the moon being covered, but the familiar glow of flame grew. It took a few moments to dawn on him, but Dawnwolf realized the ship had been struck by lightning. What are the chances? Gozreh, protect us! There were no trees around to draw the sky’s ire from the middle of the river with a boat, yet it still seemed odd.

Oddities would have to wait though: The ship seemed to be torn right outside their quarters; they would have to jump right into the river below, and it was flowing as fast as a waterfall in the storm. Duskwolf put an arm around his companions. ”We’re in this together. JUMP!” The three made their best length-wise jump to get into the deep part of the river and not injure themselves. Only then did Dawnwolf realize his folly. Unlike Duskwolf, he was not blessed with darkvision. The dancing flames stayed with the carcass of the ship, but as he felt his mate’s arm slip away from him, he realized they were both being washed down the river – at a very good clip.

No! I can’t lose them!

Panicking, the adept swimmer nonetheless kept his head above water enough to get a good amount of air. By his submerged legs, he felt a furry torso push by. Nightwolf! he was deep underwater and would have the most trouble out of them all. ”Here, pup! Come here!” Only able to spare one hand, Dawnwolf reached for the canine’s neck, only to feel it brush past, the wolf flailing. He reached again … and again … and again to no avail.

I won’t lose them.

Resolute in his concern, he swam with the current, trying to catch-up. Finally, he brushed by the dog’s body once more, but his legs moved much slower.

He’s drowning!

With all his muscle, the druid reached once more, but instead of touching the coat, something phenomenal happened. A blast shot forward, pushing Nightwolf with an audible exit out of the water. A moment later, a wet thud sounded – even above the raging squall. At this point, Dawnwolf had a choice: He could go towards Nightwolf or he could try to find Duskwolf. After a split second, he continued downriver. Swimming and swimming and swimming …
He awoke on the shore with some of the ship’s crew standing over him. His mother was among them, limping. Her pain faded upon seeing her son awake though. ”Quovex! I thought you’d gone to Pharasma!” She tried to hug him, but thought better of it The scrapes and bruises that covered Dawnwolf’s body would have made the contact painful, regardless of intentions.

He sat up too quickly, coughing. ”Where’s Duskwolf?!” The sun had just begun to illuminate the sky in the distance.

The crew looked away. The outcome was clear.

Dawnwolf refused to accept this result. ”We just haven’t found him yet. We have to keep looking!” He stood, stumbled, and ended up on the ground in more pain.

”It’s a miracle even you survived, Quovex. I’m sorry.”
Raging on the inside, Dawnwolf tried to stand again before falling. It was then his tears began to flow on the outside, making the second storm of the night.

How long he cried for, he didn’t know, but the sun came over the horizon, the rays jetting onto the tops of the trees. The crew which remained had begun to head the significant distance back to what was left of the ship. However, a few souls stayed with Vera to remark on what seemed to be the second miracle to them.

Nightwolf trotted up from the shore – slowly, as he was also injured – and lay next to Dawnwolf. He didn’t realize it at first, but a light whine eventually caused him to wipe his eyes and look.
A glimmer of hope shot up in his heart. ”Where is he, pup? Where’s Duskwolf?”

The canine’s eyes panned towards the river before returning to the druid, the glimmer now extinct.

”I … I …”

What had to be hours passed as the two lay there. Vera returned to the ship. Only when the sun was overhead did Dawnwolf calm himself enough to consider what he would do next.

I feel like dying. How could this happen? Why?!
It was then Nightwolf crawled to his feet and gave the druid a single lick on the mouth. Pup had never done that to him before – only Duskwolf – and walked away into the woods on the shore. Dawnwolf cried out, but to no effect. The canine looked back at the druid one last time from the treeline, then was gone.
Vera and some crew returned with a makeshift stretcher. They tried to load the inconsolable Dawnwolf into it. Irate in his current state of double loss, he wanted nothing to do with them.

”Leave me ALONE!”

As he shouted, a blast of air shot forth at the stretcher and flung it a few dozen feet down the shore. The crew looked back at him in awe and fear. His mother was shocked, but then she smiled.
”It’s your connection, Qouvex! The air! This storm! That’s how you’re connected!” Her smile quickly faded though as she realized the link she’d made. Dawnwolf’s connection to nature was the loss of his family. According to the elder from the circle, he’d never forget it. The youth believed every word.

He screamed.

Weeks later when they returned to Greengold, Kortian was waiting anxiously for Vera. He embraced her lovingly. After looking beyond her, he saw Dawnwolf. ”Qouvex! By Desna’s stars, you two have been through the Worldwound and back!” He gave his son a hug, but Dawnwolf had next to no emotion to return. ”I had no idea you were on that forsaken ship with your mother!” The father gave his son a physical check with his eyes. ”No serious injuries. What a blessing! You’ve gotten a bit tougher since I saw you last, that’s for sure! Come, you are dining with me tonight. Some of the court will be coming to express their regrets about the loss of the trading ship. Talkers the lot of them, but their hearts are genuinely hurting for you now.”

Dawnwolf could take no more of the shallow chat. ”Are they really? How could they possible know what we’ve been through?!”
”Qouvex, that’s not what he – “ began Vera, but Dawnwolf was already out of sight, having stormed to the edge of the dock to weep once more.

The delegates arrived bearing tokens of regret, paltry symbols of empathy that did nothing to sooth Dawnwolf’s pain. It was only through extreme hunger from the trek to Greengold – and desire to get away from the water which had claimed his mate – Dawnwolf was convinced to sit at the tables. Not interested in more than a few bits of food for his addled self, the youth heard a few words resonate for some reason with him from the delegates. Descriptions of a shady group of people. Where have I heard that depiction before? All at once, the flash of memory came forward:
They were the ones who killed the archdruid and stole the relics!

He now listened on the edge of his seat to this conversation, words not meant for his commoner ears. Assassins? The Red Mantis?! It sounded outlandish, but his disbelief turned into very real sickness in short order.

One of the nobles took a sip of wine before speaking with his retinue. ”Yes, that orb of storms they took from the Verduran Forest? It’ll cause quite a shakeup until we get to the bottom of this. Who knows how they plan to use it.”

I do.

Jumping up from the table and knocking his chair to the ground, Dawnwolf felt the vomit coming before he got quite out of sight. He lost the meager contents of dinner as they were as he revulsion took over him. They killed him! And for what?! What did he ever do?! He dropped to his knees again, powerless against the world. But he didn’t pity himself. He blamed himself. The elder told me the relics were stolen. It was my fault! I should have asked her what they were. I could have told mother to head South! I could have had us leave the ship! I …

He sobbed for what seemed like an eternity before a firm hand grasped his shoulder. ”Son.”

Oh gods, can’t he let me be?!

”Dawnwolf!” The name rolled sternly, yet awkwardly off Kortian’s tongue.

His son finally turned to face him. ”I’m not … I can’t talk right now.”

A look of pain yet urgency was in his father’s eyes. ”You don’t need to. I need you to listen.” Kortian paused to ensure he had his son’s attention. ”Your mother filled me in. That storm was no coincidence. You were targeted by that damned cult!”

Dawnwolf nodded.

”That’s not it though. They may be hellions, but they’re not dumb. They always have a plan, an end. They wanted something from that ship. Your mother had the manifest. I don’t think mundane jewelry, spices, and silks are cause for revealing their presence and keeping the relic out in the open, do you?” Kortian quickly saw rhetorical questions in his son’s state weren’t the best idea.

”Did you get anything while you were with the druids there? Any gifts? Any trinkets?”

Puzzled, the youth shook his head.

His father looked more and more worried. ”I don’t know how to tell you this, son, but they weren’t there for the crew or Vera. It was you, … Duskwolf, or the dog.” Difficult for a traditionalist like Kortian, Dawnwolf had to give him credit for attempting the nomenclature.

Kortian came around and knelt in front of his son, lifting his chin. ”They wanted something one of the three of you had. What was it?” Stern but caring as only a military father could be, Dawnwolf nonetheless jerked his chin away, shrugging. If he’d looked back at his father, he would have seen the blood leave his face just then.

”You told your mother five druids had been slain. Did you see their bodies?” After his son shook his head, his father responded. ”Then you were lied to. Mistakenly by your friends. This cult took them. They wanted them for something.”
Dawnwolf felt his father’s gaze on him as the gears turned and he looked up. ”They wanted you two.”

He was no wizard, but the connection here was feasible enough for the emotion to flow through it and make Dawnwolf into more of a wreck than he was. Anger. Loss. Blame. Regret. Kortian saw the paralysis of emotional overload take over and waited just long enough for it to pass.

”Dawnwolf!” Jerked to his feet and steadied by his father, Dawnwolf found his own two legs again after a moment. ”On behalf of the Queen, the guard requests your service in bringing justice to these assassins, kidnappers, and cultists. Their actions have deemed Pharasma fit to judge them now. A royal edict grants you, among others, the authority to deliver them. What say you?” His talk was official. Becoming aware of his surroundings, the druid realized much of the crowd at the feast had encircled them, listening.

His throat was dry, the emotion and ponderous nature of the matter creating torpidity. Finally, he squeaked-out a response. ”I wasn’t fit to serve before. What’s different now?”

A streak of pain appeared on his father’s face, but he buried it under a wry smile. ”It’s not my position to question the crown, but I imagine someone blessed by Gozreh’s wind is welcome in many courts.”

Seeing the politics behind it, the fork in the road still lay before him. No, I can’t fall into the same pit I was in before. I’m going to do something! Duskwolf – I’m coming for you!
With a nod containing more conviction than he’d had since the storm, the winds of change blew in a new direction for the druid…

Skills:44 Background:8
Acrobatics*:+12[4+3(Dex)+3+2(race)]
Appraise*
Bluff+8[3+2(Cha)+3]
Climb*: +9 [4+0(str)+3+2(race)]
Craft*
Diplomacy*:+7[2+2(cha)+3]
Disable Device*:+11(+13)[4+3(dex)+3+1(trait)+2(trap)]
Escape Artist*:+11[4+3(dex)+3+1(trait)]
Intimidate*+7[2+2(cha)+3]
Know(Dungeoneering)*
Know(local)*
Linguistics:*+9[4+2(int)+3]
Perception:*+11(+13,+12)[4+2(wis)+3+2(race)+2(trap)+1(surprise)]
Profession(cook):*[+94+2(wis)+3]
Ride*
Sense Motive:*+8[3+2(wis)+3]
Sleight of Hand:*+10[4+3(dex)+3]
Stealth:*+15[4+3(dex)+3+4(size)+1(trait)]
Survival:+4[2+2(wis)]
Swim:*+6[3+0(str)+3]
Use Magic Device:*
Feats:Weapon Finesse*, Dodge,Well-Prepared
Traits:
Ex-Recruit: You were recruited by the Red Mantis and were an initiate for a short time. You learned some of the ways of the Red Mantis, but never visited Mediogalti Island. Perhaps you became disillusioned with the Mantis God and realized the Red Mantis’s goals were antithetical to your way of life or perhaps someone showed you the error of your ways. Whatever the case, you abandoned the Red Mantis to forge your own path. However, your time with the Red Mantis did impart you with some specialized skills. You receive a +1 trait bonus on Disable Device, Escape Artist, and Stealth checks and one of them is a class skill for you. When you take 20 on Disable Device and Escape Artist checks, you may do so in half the time normally needed.

Trifler:You may cast prestidigitation three times per day as a spell-like ability. This spell-like ability is cast at your highest caster level; if you have no caster level, it functions at CL 1st.

Abilities:
Weapon and Armor Proficiency:
All Light armor,All Simple and Hand Crossbow,Sap,Short Sword, Rapier,Short bow

Sneak Attack:+2d6
If a rogue can catch an opponent when he is unable to defend himself effectively from her attack, she can strike a vital spot for extra damage.
The rogue’s attack deals extra damage anytime her target would be denied a Dexterity bonus to AC (whether the target actually has a Dexterity bonus or not), or when the rogue flanks her target. This extra damage is 1d6 at 1st level, and increases by 1d6 every 2 rogue levels thereafter. Ranged attacks can count as sneak attacks only if the target is within 30 feet. This additional damage is precision damage and is not multiplied on a critical hit.
With a weapon that deals nonlethal damage (such as a sap, unarmed strike, or whip), a rogue can make a sneak attack that deals nonlethal damage instead of lethal damage. She cannot use a weapon that deals lethal damage to deal nonlethal damage in a sneak attack—not even with the usual –4 penalty.
The rogue must be able to see the target well enough to pick out a vital spot and must be able to reach such a spot. A rogue cannot sneak attack while striking a creature with total concealment.
Trapfinding:+4
A rogue adds 1/2 her level on Perception checks to locate traps and on Disable Device checks (minimum +1). A rogue can use Disable Device to disarm magic traps.
Finesse Training:Weapon Finesse*, Dagger*
At 1st level, a rogue gains Weapon Finesse as a bonus feat. In addition, starting at 3rd level, she can select any one type of weapon that can be used with Weapon Finesse (such as rapiers or daggers). Once this choice is made, it cannot be changed. Whenever she makes a successful melee attack with the selected weapon, she adds her Dexterity modifier instead of her Strength modifier to the damage roll. If any effect would prevent the rogue from adding her Strength modifier to the damage roll, she does not add her Dexterity modifier. The rogue can select a second weapon at 11th level and a third at 19th level.
Evasion:
At 2nd level, a rogue can avoid even magical and unusual attacks with great agility. If she succeeds at a Reflex saving throw against an attack that normally deals half damage on a successful save, she instead takes no damage. Evasion can be used only if the rogue is wearing light armor or no armor. A helpless rogue does not gain the benefit of evasion.
Rogue talents:(2)
-Esoteric Scholar:A rogue with this talent can attempt any Knowledge skill check, even if she is not trained in that Knowledge skill.
-Trap Spotter:Whenever a rogue with this talent comes within 10 feet of a trap, she can attempt an immediate Perception check to notice the trap. This check should be made in secret by the GM.

Danger Sense:+1 Reflex v.Traps, +1 dodge AC v. Traps, +1 Perception to avoid surprise attacks
At 3rd level, a rogue gains a +1 bonus on Reflex saves to avoid traps and a +1 dodge bonus to AC against attacks made by traps. In addition, she gains a +1 bonus on Perception checks to avoid being surprised by a foe. These bonuses increase by 1 every 3 rogue levels thereafter (to a maximum of +6 at 18th level). This ability counts as trap sense for the purpose of any feat or class prerequisite, and can be replaced by any archetype class feature that replaces trap sense. The bonuses gained from this ability stack with those gained from trap sense (from another class)
Debilitating Injury:
At 4th level, whenever a rogue deals sneak attack damage to a foe, she can also debilitate the target of her attack, causing it to take a penalty for 1 round (this is in addition to any penalty caused by a rogue talent or other special ability). The rogue can choose to apply any one of the following penalties when the damage is dealt.
Bewildered: The target becomes bewildered, taking a –2 penalty to AC. The target takes an additional –2 penalty to AC against all attacks made by the rogue. At 10th level and 16th level, the penalty to AC against attacks made by the rogue increases by –2 (to a total maximum of –8).
Disoriented: The target takes a –2 penalty on attack rolls. In addition, the target takes an additional –2 penalty on all attack rolls it makes against the rogue. At 10th level and 16th level, the penalty on attack rolls made against the rogue increases by –2 (to a total maximum of –8).
Hampered: All of the target’s speeds are reduced by half (to a minimum of 5 feet). In addition, the target cannot take a 5-foot step.
These penalties do not stack with themselves, but additional attacks that deal sneak attackdamage extend the duration by 1 round. A creature cannot suffer from more than one penalty from this ability at a time. If a new penalty is applied, the old penalty immediately ends. Any form of healing applied to a target suffering from one of these penalties also removes the penalty.
Uncanny Dodge:
At 4th level, a rogue can react to danger before her senses would normally allow her to do so. She cannot be caught flat-footed, nor does she lose her Dexterity bonus to AC if the attacker is invisible. She still loses her Dexterity bonus to AC if immobilized. A rogue with this ability can still lose her Dexterity bonus to AC if an opponent successfully uses the feint action against her.
If a rogue already has uncanny dodge from a different class, she automatically gains improved uncanny dodge (see below) instead.
-Racial:
Ability Score Racial Traits: Halflings are nimble and strong-willed, but their small stature makes them weaker than other races. They gain +2 Dexterity, +2 Charisma, and –2 Strength.
Size: Halflings are Small creatures and gain a +1 size bonus to their AC, a +1 size bonus on attack rolls, a –1 penalty to their CMB and CMD, and a +4 size bonus on Stealth checks.
Base Speed (Slow Speed): Halflings have a base speed of 20 feet.
Languages: Halflings begin play speaking Common and Halfling. Halflings with high Intelligence scores can choose from the following: Dwarven, Elven, Gnome, and Goblin. See the Linguistics skill page for more information about these languages.
Fearless: Halflings receive a +2 racial bonus on all saving throws against fear. This bonus stacks with the bonus granted by halfling luck.
Halfling Luck: Halflings receive a +1 racial bonus on all saving throws.
Sure-Footed: Halflings receive a +2 racial bonus on Acrobatics and Climb checks.
Weapon Familiarity: Halflings are proficient with slings and treat any weapon with the word “halfling” in its name as a martial weapon.
Keen Senses: Halflings receive a +2 racial bonus on Perception checks.

Equipment:
Handy Haversack(1000gp)
Burglars’ Bracers (1000gp)

PP:
GP:
SP:
CP:

Background:

He continued for a time with no change and for more time past after that before He realized at some point sound had begun to return to Him, here in the Darkness. He noticed His footsteps against what sounded like marble at first, but then the Music drew his attention. It was soft, but grew increasingly louder, as though He was drawing nearer to it. It was a song He had never heard before played by an instrument wholly unknown to Him, and yet it was strangely familiar. He noticed He had begun to run toward the Music and that His steps were now bringing Him upward at an increasing incline. The Music filled Him completely as he reached the Top.

There was a Voice that joined the unknown instrument, and that Voice was the most beautiful sound He had ever heard. With the Voice came the Rain. It rained light. Like a thousand tiny suns falling from unknown heavens hidden in the Darkness. The Rain was warm against His skin. With the Rain came vision. He stood atop a hill covered in blood red flowers, no marble floor to be seen. From the hill, the flowers stretched for eternity and a sky of rolling blue and pristine clouds hung overhead. At the center of the hill was a tree, the tree was ancient and gnarled and obviously on its last legs. In a circle around the tree the flowers were a pearly white instead of crimson. At the base of the tree there were two chairs.

The Music ceased, yet the owner of the Voice sat there, watching Him. She was striking, inhuman, yet beyond human. Her features were sharp as if cut from diamond, Her skin as pale as the flowers about her feet, Her flowing dress as crimson as the flowers beyond. It was Her eyes that truly startled Him, they were as blue as the sky above from sclera to pupil. She gestured for Him to join Her and He did so without hesitation. The chair was comfortable and made of a material He could not discern.

"You are fated to die at the hand of an assassin long before you even wake from this dream," She said, an amused smile quirking Her lips.

He swallowed dryly and looked for the words to reply, "Yet you sit here speaking to a man who will soon be dead?"

She laughed and reached out to grasp His hand in Hers. She was cool to the touch. "Fate does not bind one such as I, nor will it bind you much longer."

He considered those eyes of the sky and considered Her words as though they made perfect sense. "You would offer me a reprieve from my demise?" He asked.

"I offer you not just that my Love. I offer you freedom and the power to keep it." She pulled his hand to her lips and kissed it gently. Her touch was cool, but her lips were as hot as the desert sun. "You were mine once and I lost you, but never again."

He knew what She said defied all reason. He was no consort of this ancient creature, and he certainly had not lived long enough to have forgotten one such as Her, yet Her words fell on His ears with a ring of truth. "Who are..." He dared not ask the question and instead asked another that came from His lips before He could reel it back, "Who am I?"

"You were The Lost One, but I have found you my Love." She climbed to Her feet and pulled Him with Her. "Let us make a Pact under the Lantern Tree. A kiss for Freedom."

He looked up and found the tree's branches were filled with glowing lanterns of an endless number in shades of colour the like He had never seen before. How had He not seen them before? He turned back to Her. He pulled her toward him and their lips met hungrily. In that singular moment, his mind expanded with infinite possibilities, He thought things beyond all that He had ever known.

Slowly His mind contracted again, yet it seemed to stop well before where it used to rest. He was different now. She let Him go and the colours started to fall away into the Darkness again. Through the Darkness Her last words echoed, "Stand tall my Love. Stand tall and shake the Heavens."

She was gone, yet He could feel Her with Him. He knew that He always would now. He closed His eyes and he dreamt of that kiss for what felt like a thousand years. Until...

Prince Hector Galfrey awoke with a start. His chambers were in complete darkness. There was not a sound apart from the pattering of rain against the chamber windows, but he could feel a presence in his room. A malevolent presence. He remembered the words of the otherworldly woman in his dream. The assassin is here! The moment he came to the realization he felt a swelling of foreign power within him. Without a thought he grasped the wrist of an arm which held a dagger poised above his heart. Hector felt strength beyond that which his sickly body had ever been capable in his limbs. With a twist he bent the arm of the assailant. The dagger fell from the assassin's grasp and dropped to the side. With a shove Hector launched the assassin across the room.

Kilarra Calvennis stood in her boyfriend’s bedroom preparing for the worst betrayal of her life. She strapped on her armour slowly, fussing with the buckles with sweaty, shaking hands. She was nervous and excited, all at once.

She was about to undertake a test—one of many she would have to pass in order to become a Red Mantis Assassin. The target was her father. He wouldn’t die—this wasn’t an official assassination. It was just a break in. A simple test of skill, stealth and loyalty. Get into her father’s office without being seen, knock him unconscious, remove all the documents in his office, and slip away without being caught.

She could do this. She knew she could. So why were her hands shaking? And why was her heart fluttering like a panicked bird trapped in her chest?

Kilarra sighed. Her father deserved everything that was coming to him. He was one of the many corrupt nobles that dealt in lies and bribes. Just one among hundreds, but his methods sickened her. She had rebelled against him and against her country. She tried to bring about change, first with words, and then more drastic measures. None of it worked. In the end it wasn’t her father that had changed, or Taldor… It was her. And it wasn’t for the better. She did more harm than her father ever had.

“It’s his fault,” she reminded herself aloud. Her voice shook, but she continued. ”He deserves this. He brought it on himself.”

She slipped her hands into her black and red leather gloves, grabbed her helmet off her boyfriend’s bureau and left the room.

Bastien grinned at her. ”You look beautiful, love,” he said.

Kilarra smiled. If her father was everything wrong in the world, Bastien was everything right. He was her beloved. Her mentor. Her life. He pulled her up from the life of gangs and crime that her father had driven her to and stood her back up. He gave her purpose. He gave her love. He was intoxicating. So when Bastien confided in her that he was an assassin, she accepted that. And when he asked her to worship his strange mantis-god, she prayed with him. And when he said that she was gifted and that he wanted to train her to be like him, she was proud.

She would do anything for him.

”I’m ready,” she replied.

Bastien nodded. ”You are.”

She kissed him goodbye, slipped her red, mantis shaped helmet over her head and crept out the window onto the roof. If she had to rob her father to prove herself to Bastien, she would do so gladly.

The trip to her father’s office was short and uneventful. She kept to the shadows and kept quiet. She slipped in through an open window on the third floor and crept down the dark halls with ease. There was a light around the edges of her father’s office door. He was in there, just as Bastien said he would be. She reached for the doorknob and hesitated.

This would change everything. Whatever happened between her and her father… Whatever he discovered and whatever she did… There was no going back. After tonight Bastien would take her to train among his fellow Red Mantis Assassins. He would train her to kill.

She never wanted to kill anyone. She still didn’t. But the thought of letting Bastien down made her sick to her stomach. She didn’t want to disappoint him. Not after everything he had done for her. She wanted to make him proud. She would make him proud. No matter what.

Kilarra took a deep breath, and turned the doorknob. She cracked the door open and glanced inside. Her father was at his desk, back to her, clutching something at his chest. She moved in silently and shut the door.

He didn’t notice her. He didn’t hear her coming. But something about the way he was twitching in his chair put her on edge…. And the smell..,? Smelt like…

Blood.

Kilarra inched across the room, hands shaking, afraid of what she would see.

He jerked erratically and fell from his chair, landing in a heap on the floor. A letter opener protruded from his chest.

”Dad!” she exclaimed.

He flinched when he saw her and tried to scream, but the blood in his mouth made it come out a wet gurgle. She tore her helmet off, and tossed it aside. It’s black insectile eyes watched her accusingly from across the room.

Her father’s eyes widened. He gurgled again, trying to speak, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying.

Pain exploded across the back of her head. She fell to the ground in a heap. Her ears rang and her vision blurred. She reached a shaky hand to her head. It was wet. And something was in her hair… She looked at her fingertips and saw they were covered in blood.

The killer was still here. How could she have been so stupid?

Kilarra crawled forward, but the blow she’d taken to the head had been fierce. Her arms were shaking and she couldn’t focus.

Behind her she heard laughter. It was familiar, but… wrong. Cold and cruel where it had once been warm.

“Ba- Bas- tien..?” she whimpered.

”I thought you’d be harder to take down than that! Didn’t you learn anything from me?”

It wasn’t him. I couldn’t be. He loved her.

There was motion beside her, and then pain. The man who sounded like Bastien kicked her so hard in the chest her whole body was lifted off the ground. She fell on her back, her head cracked against the floor with a wet crunch.

And there above her, smiling, was Bastien.

“Why?” she whimpered.

”Sorry, love,” he replied. ”But I’ve always loved playing games.”

He struck her again, knocking her unconscious as a tear streamed down her bloody, swollen face.

———

When she woke up Bastien was gone, but she wasn’t alone. The guards had found her, bloody and beaten, clutching a bloody letter opener in one hand and her fathers coin purse in the other. Her gear was missing. Her father was dead. Bastien was gone.

She would have done anything for him. Anything.

He took everything from her but her life.

———

Kilarra stepped out of prison and into the busy, sunlit streets of Oppara for the first time in six years. She looked around, and took a deep breath. Slowly, a smile spread across her scarred face. Gods, freedom smelt good.

”Kilarra Calvennis?”

As she opened her eyes her smile slipped. A woman in a military uniform stood in front of her. She was middle-aged, blonde, clean-cut.

”Who wants to know?”

[b]”I didn’t do it,” Kilarra replied.

”Do what?”the woman asked.

”Whatever it is you think I did.”

Officer Landau smiled. ”I think you’re the woman who spent six years of her life serving jail time for killing her father. The same woman who spouted tales of mantis headed assassins for years.”

Kilarra sighed. ”And what? You want to hear it again? You want to laugh? I’m out now. A free woman. ”

The officer smirked. [b]”Yes, convenient, isn’t it? Serving only six years of a life-time sentence.”

Kilarra’s frown deepened. Landau was right. Officially she was been let out for good behaviour, but that was clearly a lie. Kilarra hadn’t been good in prison. First she had cried, and then she had yelled, and then she fell in with a bad crowd all over again—or rather, she made her own bad crowd. ”Leave me alone,” she growled.

The woman raised an eyebrow. ”Why? So you can track down who hired the Red Mantis Assassins and beat them bloody? So you can hunt down your mom, or your grandmother or you brother or any number of other potential suspects and wind up back in the prison you just left by days end?”

Kilarra repressed a frown. That was exactly what she had been planning to do. She plastered a smile across her face and fluttered her eyelashes sweetly. ”I’m reformed.”

”Whoever hired you did so for power, or money, or some other petty reason. You weren’t the target, you were the scape goat. It wasn’t personal for them. But this person—this guy you were with. Bastien. He made it personal, didn’t he? Isn’t that who you should be getting revenge against? The man who betrayed you?”

Bastien. The sound of his name sent a wave of anger surging through her. If she ever saw him again she would cram his stupid mantis helmet down his throat. Focus… ”Did one too many blows to the head make you deaf, Officer Landau? I said I’m reformed. I’m not going to kill anyone. I’m not searching for vengeance. And I’m not talking to you.”

“That’s too bad. See, I’m recruiting for a special assignment. Grand Prince Stavian the Third has entered into an agreement with—“

”Spare me the politics. It’s boring.”

She continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted by a dirty ex-con, but Kilarra could tell her smile had turned cold. ”It’s called the Mantisbane Pact, and its purpose is to send agents to kill the Red Mantis Assassins, destroy their organization and assassinate their god.”

Kilarra froze. ”Achaekek…” she breathed.

The soldier smiled. ”Got your attention, have I?”

“You’re looking for people to assassinate a god?” She burst out laughing. This woman was clearly mad. ”How’s that working out for you?”

“Obviously.”

Officer Landau grit her teeth. ”I’m giving you the opportunity to apply for the team. There’s no guarantee you’ll get in. There’s other volunteers just as driven—“

“As you. Now are you in or can I wash my hands of you?”

Kilarra smiled. [b]”Well with a sales pitch like that, how can I refuse? Where do I sign up?”

“Iadara.”

“Where?”

“Pack a bag. The applicants sail for Kyonin tomorrow.”

Unfortunately success within the Red Mantis can be a dangerous thing and, during her meteoric rise Tyra earned the emnity of Blood Mistress Jakalyn, the ultimate authority and expression of Achaekek's bloody will. At her instigation Tyra was ambushed on a contract, dragged before the Blood Mistress and had her throat ripped out by the Mistress's sabre. Her death did not last long however.

About a week after Tyra's murder a dwarf man, wearing the White Mantis mask that was Tyra's trademark entered the Crimson Keep and, entering the throne room, declared Jakalyn deposed by the will of Achaekek. He proceeded to pull weapons from mid-air as Tyra had always done and attempted to carry out the sentence there and then. Captured and tortured he swore, with the dedication of a fanatic that he was Tyra - reborn by will of the Mantis. Jakalyn, unshaken by this announcement, had the madman executed and thought nothing of it.

So it has been for six lives that Tyra, upon every death, has reincarnated, each time as a new person, but also fiercely convinced of Achaekek's will and plan for her. Each death however sapped her of her power and Jakalyn and the Vernai have never spared any effort to hunt down and eradicate The White Mantis whose very and continued existence presented a dangerous threat to the orthodoxy of the Red Mantis church, whatever incarnation it might be found in.

Reborn five years ago as a man, and tired of the constant battles Tyrek chose the path of least resistance. Walking until he could walk no more he arrived in the small town of Phaendar and, finding the people friendly and not overly disposed to ask questions, settled there for the first time doubting the will of the Mantis God.

For the past five years Tyrek has made a quiet but stable living in Phaendar, working mostly as town constable, a role in which he has become known for a strict adherence to the law and has garnered a reputation for fairness, if not kindness.

--------------------------------------------
Now in his seventh incarnation Tyrek is, both physically and spiritually a wreck of what he once was. Although capable of remembering each of his previous lives he has lost much of his hard won skill and, as his subsequent lives have tended to be short and brutal, has never really had the chance to regain the skills he once possessed.

His faith, likewise, is complicated. He has come to see the Red Mantis as a corruption of Achaekek's teaching - their insistence on payment and willingness to slay almost anyone without compunction makes them organised serial killers rather than assassins in his view. For Tyrek Achaekek is the necessary evil of existence, the monster who keeps other monsters down. Although his past lives have proved that the Red Mantis Church is not going to fall easily his own continued presence in this world reassures Tyrek in his darkest moments that the Mantis God has not forgotten him. His time will come.

Ranged
MW composite [+1] shortbow +8 (1d6+1/x3)
Dagger +5 (1d4+1/19-20)
Acid +5 touch (1d6 acid) (splash: 1 dmg)
Alchemist’s fire +5 touch (1d6 fire) (splash: 1 dmg); round 2: 1d6 fire unless extinguished

Special Attacks Sneak Attack +1d6, Studied Target
------------------------------
STATISTICS
------------------------------
Str 13, Dex 17, Con 13, Int 12, Wis 14, Cha 12
Base Atk +4; CMB +5; CMD 18
Traits Ex-Recruit, Red Mantis Bleeding
Feats Divine Defiance, Exotic Weapon Proficiency (sawtooth sabre), Two-Weapon Fighting
Skills Acrobatics* +10, Appraise +4, Bluff +8, Climb* +6, Diplomacy +3, Disable Device* +13, Escape Artist* +8, Intimidate +5, Knowledge (geography), +5, Knowledge (history) +2, Knowledge (local) +8, Knowledge (nobility) +3, Perception +9 (+11 to locate traps), Sense Motive +9, Sleight of Hand* +5, Stealth* +11, Survival +6 (+8 to track), Swim* +5
(11 points/lv; 6 class, 2 background, 1 INT, 1 race, 1 favoured class)
(*Armour Check Penalty = -1)
Abilities Slayer Talents (Poison Use, Trapfinding [Trapfinding +2, Trap Sense +1]), Sneak Attack (1d6), Studied Target (1st), Track +2
Languages Common, Infernal

Ex-Recruit (trait): You were recruited by the Red Mantis and were an initiate for a short time. You learned some of the ways of the Red Mantis, but never visited Mediogalti Island. Perhaps you became disillusioned with the Mantis God and realized the Red Mantis’s goals were antithetical to your way of life or perhaps someone showed you the error of your ways. Whatever the case, you abandoned the Red Mantis to forge your own path. However, your time with the Red Mantis did impart you with some specialized skills. You receive a +1 trait bonus on Disable Device, Escape Artist, and Stealth checks and one of them (Escape Artist) is a class skill for you. When you take 20 on Disable Device and Escape Artist checks, you may do so in half the time normally needed.

Poison Use (Ex): Kilarra is trained in the use of poison, and cannot accidentally poison herself when applying poison to a weapon.

Red Mantis Bleeding (trait): You witnessed the training of Red Mantis assassins, either as a child on Mediogalti Island or as an aspirant, and learned to leave bleeding wounds. Whenever you confirm a critical hit with a slashing weapon, you also deal 1 point of bleed damage.

Sneak Attack: If Kilarra catches an opponent unable to defend itself effectively from her attack, she can strike a vital spot for extra damage. Her attack deals extra damage anytime her target would be denied a Dexterity bonus to AC (whether the target actually has a Dexterity bonus or not), or when she flanks her target. This additional damage is 1d6 at 3rd level, and increases by 1d6 every 3 levels thereafter. Should she score a critical hit with a sneak attack, this additional damage is not multiplied. Ranged attacks can count as sneak attacks only if the target is within 30 feet.

With a weapon that deals nonlethal damage (like a sap, whip, or unarmed strike), Kilarra can make a sneak attack that deals nonlethal damage instead of lethal damage. She cannot use a weapon that deals lethal damage to deal nonlethal damage in a sneak attack, not even with the usual –4 penalty.

Kilarra must be able to see the target well enough to pick out a vital spot and must be able to reach such a spot. She cannot use sneak attack while striking a creature with concealment.

Studied Target (Ex): Kilarra can study an opponent she can see as a move action. She then gains a +1 bonus on Bluff, Knowledge, Perception, Sense Motive, and Survival checks attempted against that opponent, and a +1 bonus on weapon attack and damage rolls against it. The DCs of slayer class abilities against that opponent increase by 1. Kilarra can only maintain these bonuses against one opponent at a time; these bonuses remain in effect until either the opponent is dead or the slayer studies a new target.

If Kilarra deals sneak attack damage to a target, she can study that target as an immediate action, allowing her to apply her studied target bonuses against that target (including the normal weapon damage roll)

Track (Ex): Kilarra adds 1/2 her level (minimum 1) to Survival skill checks made to follow tracks.

Trapfinding: Kilarra gains Disable Device as a class skill. She also gains the trapfinding and trap sense rogue abilities, using her slayer level as her effective rogue level.

Trapfinding: Kilarra adds 1/2 her level to Perception skill checks made to locate traps and to Disable Device skill checks (minimum +1). She can use Disable Device to disarm magic traps.

Trap Sense (Ex): Kilarra has an intuitive sense that alerts her to danger from traps, giving her a +1 bonus on Reflex saves made to avoid traps and a +1 dodge bonus to AC against attacks made by traps. These bonuses rise to +2 when she reaches 6th level, to +3 when she reaches 9th level, to +4 when she reaches 12th level, to +5 at 15th, and to +6 at 18th level.

Possessions Handy haversack, bedroll, belt pouch, compass, deck of playing cards, dice (6), explorer’s outfit, folding chair, gear maintenance kit, grooming kit, masterwork thieve’s tools, mess kit, oil of taggit (2), pot, skillet, sunrod (4), tindertwig (4), traveler’s any-tool, trail rations (5), waterskin (2)

Carrying Capacity
Light 0-50 lb. Medium 51-100 lb. Heavy 101-150 lb.
Current Load Carried 20 lbs.
Money 121 GP 17 SP 10 CP
Current Load Carried in Handy Haversack (max 120 lbs.) 94 lbs.

He would have likely continued rising through the ranks of the military, were it not for the defection of one of the Vernai, a member of the Red Mantis' ruling council. With the location of the Red Mantis now known, the council of monarchs called for a group of adventurers, unaffiliated with any of them, to seek out and destroy the cultists and their false god. Eluvias, having already reached the end of his enlistment, was 'persuaded' to not re-enlist. Rather, his paperwork was fast tracked and he was allowed to leave early. His first act was to apply to join the adventurers in their quest. And of course, in doing so, he would be in no way tied to the elven kingdom, so that should he fail he would just be another adventurer who never returned.

While not the friendliest of elves, he is well educated and is proper in his dealings with others. What is clear though, is that while there is no malice in his heart, he is driven by a patriotic duty to defend his homeland against all threats, both domestic and foreign.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice a young elven girl as she walked by him. He didn't notice her, that is, until she shouted "Eluvias!" He turned, started, as she ran over to him.

"Aelise?" Was all that he could say. He looked at her smiling face in shock. He had been so focused on the task that had been unofficially assigned to him, that it almost hadn't dawned on him that he was coming home for the first time in nearly a decade.

"Is that all you can say after nine years? Well, I suppose I should be happy that you even remember my name." He nodded at this, thinking to himself that he was running out of time. If he didn't get an audience soon, some other adventurer would be chosen. And then where would he be?

"Aelise, it is good to see. And of course I remember. But look-" She cut him off. "No but. I don't want to hear anything besides 'Aelise, I am going home with you tonight, and we are going to catch up on everything that I missed.' Now, what do you say?" He looked at her helplessly. He had known her his entire life. They had grown up together. He had always looked up to her, what with her obvious magical talents. In a place like Kyonin, the most highly respected citizens were wizards. When he had gone off to join the army, her parents had hired the best of tutors to cultivate her talents. "Aelise, there is some business I have to attend to." She looked at him, crestfallen. He quickly added "But I promise, that the very first thing that I will do is come see you. You must be an arch-mage by now." She beamed at him, and he thought glumly to himself that this meant that he would also have to check in with his parents as well. He cursed himself for a fool of thinking that he could make it through the city without something like this happening.

After waving goodbye to his childhood friend, Eluvias picked up his pace. Duty came first, and he did not want to disappoint.

Combat
* To Hit with Power Attack: +7
* Damage: 1d10+9+2d6 sneak attack
- Sneak attack either gives target -2 AC for one round, and an additional -2 AC against rogue, or;
- Sneak attack gives target -2 hit for one round, and an additional -2 hit against rogue

Shooting
* To Hit: +7
* Damage: 1d8+1+2d6 sneak attack

Race Elf
* Darkvision
* Lightbringer (Many elves revere the sun, moon, and stars, but some are literally infused with the radiant power of the heavens. Elves with this racial trait are immune to light-based blindness and dazzle effects, and are treated as one level higher when determining the effects of any light-based spell or effect they cast (including spell-like and supernatural abilities). Elves with Intelligence scores of 10 or higher may use light at will as a spell-like ability. This racial trait replaces the elven immunities and elven magic racial traits.)
* Weapon Familiarity
* Keen Senses (+2 perception)

Traits
* Duty-bound (Because of your loyalty to your nation or city, you feel it is your duty to help bring about the Mantis God’s demise. You have either interacted at length with the nobility or government of your nation or city or count yourself as one of them. Consequently, you are well-versed in how to deal with situations in a non-violent manner. You receive a +1 trait bonus on Diplomacy and Intimidate checks and one of them is a class skill for you. This bonus increases to +3 when interacting with members of races represented by the Mantisbane Pact’s monarchs (humans, elves, and dwarves).)
* Clever Wordplay (Int for Bluff)

Equipment
* Elven Curve Blade +1 (1d10 damage, 18-20 crit)
* Composite Longbow with +1
* Cold Iron Dagger
* Silver Gauntlet
* Mithril Chain Shirt +1 (+5 AC)
* Cloak of Resistance +1
* Masterwork Thief Tools
* Fighter's Kit
* 203 gold

Feats
Lvl 1: Dodge
Lvl 3: Power Attack (-1 hit, +3 damage)

Face Skills
* Knowledge Local: 4 skill points (+10)
* Bluff: 4 skill points (+10)
* Sense Motive: 4 skill points (+8)
* Diplomacy: 4 skill points (+7 / +10 humans, elves, dwarves)
* Intimidate: 4 skill points (+7 / +10 humans, elves, dwarves)

Rogue Skills
* Disable Device: 4 skill points (+15)
* Stealth: 4 skill points (+11)
* Acrobatics: 4 skill points (+11)
* Perception: 4 skill points (+10/+12)
* Use Magic Device: 4 skill points (+6)

Background Skills
* Sleight of Hand: 4 skill points (+11)
* Profession Soldier: 3 skill points (+7)
* Appraise: 1 skill points (+7)

Class Sanctified Unchained Rogue (4)
Lvl 1: Finesse Training (Dex to hit elven curve blade), Sneak Attack (2d6), Trapfinding (+1/2 level to perception to find traps, +1/2 level to disable device, can disarm magic traps)
Lvl 2: Evasion (If he succeeds at a Reflex saving throw against an attack that normally deals half damage on a successful save, he instead takes no damage), Minor Magic (Prestidigitation 3x times per day)
Lvl 3: Finesse Training (Dex to damage elven curve blade), Danger Sense (+1 bonus on Reflex saves to avoid traps and a +1 dodge bonus to AC against attacks made by traps. In addition, he gains a +1 bonus on Perception checks to avoid being surprised by a foe. )
Lvl 4: Divine Purpose (+1 sacred bonus on Fortitude and Will saving throws), Major Magic (Vanish 2x times per day), Debilitating Injury (At 4th level, whenever a rogue deals sneak attack damage to a foe, she can also debilitate the target of her attack, causing it to take a penalty for 1 round (this is in addition to any penalty caused by a rogue talent or other special ability). The rogue can choose to apply any one of the following penalties when the damage is dealt. Bewildered: The target becomes bewildered, taking a –2 penalty to AC. The target takes an additional –2 penalty to AC against all attacks made by the rogue. At 10th level and 16th level, the penalty to AC against attacks made by the rogue increases by –2 (to a total maximum of –8). Disoriented: The target takes a –2 penalty on attack rolls. In addition, the target takes an additional –2 penalty on all attack rolls it makes against the rogue. At 10th level and 16th level, the penalty on attack rolls made against the rogue increases by –2 (to a total maximum of –8). Hampered: All of the target’s speeds are reduced by half (to a minimum of 5 feet). In addition, the target cannot take a 5-foot step.))

Lvl 0 Spells
* Prestidigitation 3x times per day

Lvl 1 Spells
* Vanish 2x times per day (This spell functions like invisibility, except the effect only lasts for 1 round per caster level (maximum of 5 rounds). Like invisibility, the spell immediately ends if the subject attacks any creature.)

Feat Plan
Lvl 5: Arcane Strike
Lvl 7: ?

Ziera knows nothing of this. Her father, a CN elf [opposites attract, right?] who is a Wizard and former Pirate (he was famous, but hasn't been near a ship since fleeing with his daughter), usually does not speak of her mother except to say that she was amazing and talented and knowledgeable (he was clearly in love with her), always in the past tense. A few things that he has let slip over the years is that he met her when going to see the Mayor of Ilizmagorti, and at a different time when she pestered him about what she did for a living, he told her vaguely that she worked in the Sarzari Library. She didn't think anything of it at the time, but later she did some research and discovered that her mother must have had some association with the Red Mantis (though she is not certain how much... she may have been a janitor for all Ziera knows). [Online sources tell us that only the Bloodmistress has access to the library, but if it is a *real* library, that would be strange. My hints point to her mother being a former bloodmistress, but it could be someone else that he met standing in line to see the Mayor... doesn't have to be the mayor herself. ... I don't know if any of this actually interferes with the universe as written, so happy to tweak it as needed. Just trying to get the whole reason she is a librarian thing in there.]

Anyway, the hints that she had about her mother, and her father always telling her that she was the spitting image of her mother as she grew had an effect on her. She wanted to be like the mother she would never know, and she studied history and literature, and became a researcher and a librarian. Her beauty and personality make her a skilled negotiator as well. In her free time, she became increasingly interested in researching the Red Mantis, working to find out anything she could about them and about the Sarzari library. She would drop innocuous hints every now and then, trying to get information from her father, and the more she did it, the more worried he became. "Stay away from the Red Mantis" he finally shouted at her one day, tired of deflecting and concerned that other people would hear of her interest and she would get herself killed. "The only thing there for you is death."

After that she didn't ask him about the Red Mantis or talk about it in public, but that outburst convinced her that her theory was correct--the Red Mantis had killed her mother. [Obviously completely incorrect, but this is what she believes.] She studied with a renewed purpose; instead of just curious, she became obsessed--studying their ways, and trying to find any way that they could be destroyed for killing her mother and leaving her father bereft.

[Still have to write the trip to Iadara part]