Motteditor's Ironfang Invasion PBP (Inactive)

Game Master motteditor

Faunra was raised by her human mother, Rosemary, in the town of Phaendar. Her story was that of many half-elves, only differing in that she had a relationship with her father. Nameer, an Elven naturalist, was drawn to the Fangwood Forest by its history and, recently, its sudden decay. He lodged in Phaendar between his ventures into the forest, where he met Rosemary. She was by the edge of the forest collecting herbs, and their shared love of nature began a relationship whereby Faunra was conceived, a traditional Elvish name that Rosemary liked because it sounded much like the human collective word for animals, fauna.

Nameer and Rosemary are very much still on good terms, though they aren’t married, and he stays with them whenever he comes back to continue his studies of the forest, or whenever he misses them too much. Many might find their relationship as strange, all three are quite happy, and care for each other deeply.

Faunra grew up with nature at her heart, preferring to spend time in the forest than in town Animal Whisperer, finding that at least in the forest there wasn’t anyone to notice how she stood out. Bright blue eyes and long, often messy, blonde hair, she looked much like her mother, though she could thank the vividness of colour to her father. In every other way, she resembled her father, lean and tall with pointed ears and alabaster skin. As one of the few half-elves in Phaendar, she didn’t like the attention she got from visitors to the small town, preferring to go to areas she knew there would only be locals.

Her love for animals manifested in an ever-changing assortment of pets, who were forever coming and going as they pleased. Cats and dogs weren’t as common as foxes, deer, badgers, hawks, rabbits and other forest creatures who had, more often than not, been either hurt or abandoned. Keeping them from eating each other became the biggest challenge, with each room in the house being designated a grouping of animals that Faunra discovered could cohabitate.

She began acting as a guide for others who wished to enter the forest, mostly foreigners who were curious about Nirmathas’ famed Fangwood Forest. Most left a little crestfallen, though Faunra never understood why when the natural beauty and magic were clear as day to her. While it seemed contradictory that she should avoid strangers in town yet show then around the forest, there she felt at peace and completely in sync. Any looks or pro-longed stares slid right off her back, for she was always too engaged with pointing out the various plant and animal life, and talking about the history and lore that her father had taught her about this magnificent and mysterious place.

With her mother’s lessons on the many uses of plants and herbs, and her father’s on the ecosystems and magic of the forest, it was only a matter of time before her innate abilities manifested. She began spending longer and longer in the forest, listening to the sounds of the trees and birds. Slowly, the world around her began talking on deeper meaning, and she connected to the spirits that lived within nature. Seven days after she had left town for the forest, Faunra returned, her blue eyes now a bright emerald green, her blonde locks the colour of the fir trees that grew deep within the Fangwood, wavy and free-falling, and of course her skin light moss in tone. By her side, a tiny red fox, who followed her with seemingly no caution towards the town or people.

Her mother of course panicked, thinking that her only daughter had picked up some new disease from deep within the blighted forest. Faunra spent much of the evening and into the night speaking of her experiences, from her change in appearance, to her newly established divine bond with the spirits of nature and her spirit animal Meadow, the red fox, who represented that bond.

Upon returning to help with preparations for the upcoming Market Festival, and for their traditional family outing to said markets, Nameer was equally shocked by his daughter’s dramatic change in appearance, but much more knowledgeable about what had happened, having encountered this before. He told them of Shamans, those who had made strong connections with natural spirits and who could call upon their powers. He also gave her some advice on meditation, being something that all Elves are predisposed towards.

Now the Festival is upon them, only a few months after Faunra became a Shaman. She has gotten the hang of her new-found abilities, though the locals are still adjusting. Still, despite her changes, she looks forward to spending quality time with her parents shifting through the stalls and shops, buying various knick-knacks and supplies, as they have done every year since she was born. Now that she carries the forest with her where ever she goes, she is no longer hindered by the stares of strangers. The scent of flowers and green leaves comforts her, and she feels the spirits by her side, so, for the first time, she can fully enjoy the moments she has with her mother and father.

Faunra is a fairly private and shy person, at least with strangers, unless talking about something she knows a lot about.

Likes Animals, nature, plants, forests, early morning walks, music, fey history, woodcrafts
Dislikes Disrespectful destruction of animal and plant life, drunk people, rough housing, cruelty, wearing shoes.
Fave food Fried Bread, Nuts and dried fruit (alone or in something)
Disliked food Eggs, raw fish

Motivation To protect the forest and her family's/towns livelihood. She also really wants to meet some fey, and see the Green Dragon rumoured to live in the Northern Forest. She’s curious to see if there are any remanent of the Elves that used to live in the Fangwood as well. She’d ultimately like to make the forest well and safe again for anyone who wants to visit it, and for the creatures that live there. She wants to be the bridge between civilisation and nature.

Advancement As things progress, she may wind up taking some levels in Druid as her ties to nature strengthen.

Eventually she’ll probably have 4 in Druid, and 16 in Shaman, but it really depends on what she goes through and what is needed. Shaman’s have pretty much all their base abilities fairly quickly, and I’d like her to have abilities like Woodland Stride and Trackless Step. The combination of the abilities she’d have with these levels feels like who she would be. Plus there is now Druid Herbalism available for the Druidic bond, which matches her background perfectly.

It also means that her Spirit Animal will gain the Animal Companion status and she could use the boost.

I’m from the Gold Coast, Australia which falls into Brisbane AEST or GMT +11. Typically that means I’m a day ahead of any American playing. To see how it affects you I’ll say I’m posting this at 2pm on Monday, then you can just check what time the forum says I posted and it’ll let you know the difference.

I post more often in the afternoons, though I check during breaks at work and post if it doesn’t require a lot of tags and detail. Weekends I’ll be checking more frequently. If it’s free posting rather than waiting for each person to post in an order, then I’m pretty active as I really enjoy getting to know more about my character through interactions with others and reacting to situations etc.

I’ve played Pathfinder irl before, Kingmaker. Have to admit that writing is easier for role play, my groups irl or over voice chat tend to chat and joke around rather than role-play, so I like that about PBP.

This is one form a Call of Cthulu game I’m currently in. I’ve got more experience in applying for games than for playing them XD.

Here’s a background I wrote for another character which I’m really chuffed about.

If you feel like a bigger read this is probably the most detailed background I've ever written, and also started my new style of writing character origins from level 0 to 1, as you can see with Faunra's BG story as well.

I’ve played DnD 5e for a few months over voice, and have always enjoyed creative writing, just a shame that I can’t show that very well with any examples.

Caeleron made his living as a hunter and scout, catching animals for meat and furs, gathering wild plants and fruits, and driving away any disruptive influences from the village of Nithvel, an ancient enclave of elves nestled deep within the Fangwood where he lived with his wife, Alea, and his young daughter, Rhaetia. The closest he ever got to combat was scaring away unscrupulous loggers or killing a dire wolf that once threatened the elves he worked to protect.

Life was quiet for Caeleron and his family nestled within their small village. Quiet, that is, until the Ironfang Legion arrived. A raiding party of hobgoblins came upon Nithvel in the night. With no warning or expectation of attack, there was little the small village could do to hold them back. The hobgoblins put the village to the torch, and killed or captured many of the inhabitants. Caeleron and some of the other hunters tried to defend the village, but they were quickly overrun and chased off into the forest.

Wounded by the crude arrow of an Ironfang archer Caeleron collapsed into unconsciousness. He woke many hours later and by the time he had bound his wound and made his way slowly back to the village, all that was left was a smoking ruin and a pyre of elven corpses. He killed the two hobgoblins that he found left behind to burn the corpses, and looked for his family. He searched for two days and two nights without rest, combing through the ruins of the village and looking for tracks that might lead him to escaped villagers, but found nothing.

Forced to admit that his wife and child were gone, but unable to determine whether they were dead, captured or fled, Caeleron set about finding some answers. His search led him to Phaendar, where he has been living for only a few days. Camped on the edge of town, he has been asking about for his family, showing pictures of his wife and daughter to anyone he can talk to. As his desperation has grown, so too has his anger: anger at himself for failing to protect his village and family, and anger at the Ironfang Legion for taking everything away from him. On the dark nights since the attack, Caeleron has prayed to Calistria, the elven goddess of vengeance, to help him seek retribution for those that have destroyed his life.

Clover has lived near Phaendar her entire life. Her home is a few hours walk away. Since she's such a social creature she would probably know all of the NPC's listed to some extent. For friendships: Her interests would place her closest to Vane Oreld. Her personality would place her closest to Rhyna. I can see her being very tight with Rhyna.

Clover is designed more as a caster than combat oracle. Over time she will shift away from melee as her spells, revelations, and hexes come online. Her role in the party will remain the same throughout though: healing, buffing (with a little debuffing to keep things interesting) and support. She can act as the party face if nobody else is suitable. But Clover is guileless and honest almost to a fault so it depends on the face-work to be done.

As for character development, I want to play around quite a bit with her spirit connections, I think there's a lot of room for both drama and comedy there. Otherwise I like to keep development loose because it depends so much on the other characters in the party.

I'm in the U.S. Pacific timezone. I tend to post more early morning than evening. Both are doable though and day to day morning or evening or both may be what I do.

I've been playing Pathfinder for a about 3 years. I started with PFS but after a year or so switched exclusively to PbP. I'm in it for role play and for me PbP beats both PFS and tables for that by miles.

Motteditor: You're already acquainted with Emi from our CotCT campaign. I've linked a couple more of my favorites characters below.

My archaeologist bard Rojava gives some (appreciated?) advice in RotRL

Vigny my warpriest of Cayden argues with a party member in Jade Regent.

- Tell me about your character.
Sogreth is a dwarf who has worked his life until now as a craftsman, never considering to put his kineticist abilities to use in combat, as he wasn't much interested in combat. This will change, as his hometown of Kraggodan is currently under siege and he's living in Phaendar for the moment.
He has dark brown hair and beard, black eyes and his skin is slightly darker than average, made leathery by the fires of the forge.
So far in life he's worked at the forge, found out about his powers by escaping a cave-in, and married a half-elf gemcutter names Mirasol. He loves her more than anything in the world, and will do anything to keep her safe and happy.

- What's you character's connection to Phaendar?
His wife was born there, and they moved for a while as her mother grew ill and passed away. While they were in Phaendar, Kraggodan was assaulted, so they are stuck there. He'll be working in the local blacksmith if possible.

- How do you see the character developing?
He'll go to adventure because he has someone to protect at all costs -his wife- rather than some high ideal. Then, while adventuring, he'll start feeling ever better about adventuring for someone else's sake. Gameplay-wise, he'll be straight kineticist.

- What timezone are you in and when do you typically post?
Timezone is GMT+1 - Central Europe, but I don't have fixed times for posting.

- [...] link to 1-3 of your favorite posts you've written.
Sample post 1
Sample post 1
Sample post 1

Tychus's earliest memory is that of servitude. He was owned by a small noble family in a small Molthune town. There he served as the whipping boy to Janus, the heir to the family. Janus was spoiled rotten and often did whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted, without any regard for anyone else. This often left Tychus on the wrong end of a beating. Tychus took these beatings silently and without word. Even when not taking a beating from the parents, Janus was exceptionally cruel to Tychus, often treating him as his personal plaything. Every night in the privacy of bed, Tychus would curse the family and pray for a way out. One night his prayers were answered.

Tychus doesn't know why, but he awoke in the middle of the night. He immediately realized something was wrong and quickly rushed to the door. Upon opening the door, Tychus was greeted by a wall of flames. The first thought that went through his mind was that the Janus has finally had enough of him and was going to kill him in his sleep. However, not a moment later the thought was gone and Tychus's survival instincts kicked in. He immediately began looking for a way out when part of the roof nearest to the door collapsed from the fire, leaving a view of night sky. "If the roof is weak enough to collapse, maybe I can break through." Tychus thought to himself. He immediately began piling what he could in the corner farthest from the flames and climbed on top of it. Once he felt sturdy he began pushing at the roof with everything he had. Tychus was about to give up when the roof finally gave way. As quickly as he could Tychus climbed into the night.

Upon reaching safety, Tychus realized it wasn't just his room, but the whole house was in flames. Several townsfolk were running to and from the house trying to get the fire under control. It was chaos. It was his chance at freedom. He could flee and everyone would just assume he was a charred corpse in the rubble, no one would be looking for him. First, with everyone distracted, Tychus stealthily made his way to the hunting shed on the edge of the property. There he grabbed some supplies, including a bow and made his way out of town towards the Nirmathas Border. Tychus knew he had to put as much distance as he could between himself and the city and going to a free land seemd the best way to do it.

With no one around and the cover of night on his side, Tychus slipped out of town and started north. His journey took him many days. He would spend the days hidden in the woods hunting game for food. At night he would continue his journey north, making sure to avoid any towns and checkpoints. At the end, when Tychus ended up at the Marideth Riever. He knew he was out of Molthune territory and he quickly found the nearest town of Phaendar.

Tychus quickly adapted himself to the town, hiding his slave mark so as to avoid questions, and finding work as a freelance tracker and hunter. He heard word of a group known as the Chernasardo Rangers, a group of snipers and scouts who fight against Molthuni armies. Tychus sought to join them and be one of their numbers. Recently, Tychus has made headway at joining them and has been placed under the care and training of Aubrin

Tychus has the appearance of a rugged male. He has dark brown hair that he keeps cut short and piercing blue eyes. Tychus stands six feet tall and has a lithe physique that belies his strength. At its heart, his personality is friendly and jovial, but he is overly cautious. He is always on the lookout for anyone who might recognize him and drag him back into his bondage.

Tychus ended up in Phaendar after escaping slavery in Molthune. Enjoying the freedom of Phaendar, Tychus found the Chernasardo Rangers and seeks to join with them to fight against those that would enslave him and keep others from joining his fate. He has recently been placed under the training Aubrin. Even though he is relatively new to the town, Tychus feels a sense of home that he has never felt. Finally having a place he can call his own.

I see my character developing along the lines of an archer. At level 4 I see myself getting a horse for an animal companion and performing mounted archery.

Using a PFS recruitment format:

1. Player Name: Jamie T

2. Are you new to PBP? I'm a very experienced PBP'er. Quite a few long running games as player and GM.

3. Tell me a little about yourself! What other games have you played? What are your hobbies? Been playing D&d for about 25 years since I was a kid (I'm 34 now). I've got a couple of very long-running games on these boards and been fortunate enough to play in several more. I am growing a pretty impressive boardgame collection and spend a good deal of time roping people into that, or at the gym or with my dog (although he's recovering from pretty major surgery at the moment - poor guy)

4. Are you able to post at least once a day? Without fail. I post in all my games several times a day.

5. In order to keep the game moving along, sometimes I will bot players if a certain amount of time has passed since their last post. Do you give permission for me or the party to 'bot' your character as needed in combat or another situation? Definitely. The only thing slower in PBP than combat is when a group is presented with a door and have no SOP for such a thing.

6. Do you promise to tell me about upcoming vacations, busy times at work, conventions or other absences so we can bot you? Sure

She hawks and spits a gobbit into the Halfling’s hair. In truth, it isn’t the first time and he doubts it will be the last. The spittle hangs like a fat spider in his web of tangled, black hair and runs down through the bone fetishes made from the tiny limbs of birds and mice that he wears like charms and drips onto his shoulder.

Get outta here, Jinx. she says through gritted teeth. ’Fore I really decide to send you on your way. If you want to peddle your cursed trinkets then you can do it at the Festival and people can take their chances, but if I see your face here before then I’m gonna put my fist in it.

He eyes the cudgel at her waist and decides to say nothing, better not to inflame the situation. Maybe someone would come to help but like as not they would just join her in giving him a beating and throwing him in the mud. There was no love for Jinx here, not for a long time.

With the rain beating down like a smithy’s hammer, he draws his thin woollen shawl about his thinner shoulders and turns away.

-----------

His handmade boots of cured rat skin slop through the mud at the outskirts of the town but he doesn’t protest, he just walks on into first the underbrush and then before long the towering trees of the Fangwood.

But all the while he thinks back to a time not that long ago, when he lived deep in wood with a druid enclave of Earthspeakers and Skinchangers. Like his mother and her mother before her he carried a spark of magic in his blood that could be nurtured to a great flame, but unlike them he had no gift for animal husbandry and the animals themselves would shy away from him or growl at his presence. All but a tiny green scorpion that he had come across in a hollow beneath a rotting log and who had never left him since.

Instead of the traditional routes, he showed talent in the more frowned upon practices of haruspicy (reading portents in animal entrails) and even darker forms of the Earth-mother’s gift.

But then the howling hordes had come. Or at least that’s what they sounded like. With axes and fire they swept through the wood, green skin and gnashing teeth. Small even for his kind he put up no resistance at all could only watch as his Circle was cut down like wheat.

The days that followed were a blur of pain and fluid consciousness. He remembers being bundled into a cage of some kind with some others from his Circle; the youngest, the smallest and the most attractive. He remembers the jolting lurch of the wagons wheels as they bumped over roots and through dense vegetation. He remembers tears and beatings and…..hate.

Something dark may have been born in Bran from a young age, but it was nurtured by that hate. It suckled greedily on it and grew into a monstrous black thing that resided behind his pale and unassuming eyes.

Before long it made it’s presence felt. But like all things of the dark it did so subtly, with malice hidden in innocence. One by one the captors began suffering mishaps. First it was small things like a wagon wheel breaking in a rut. But then one of the hobgoblins was thrown from his horse and broke his neck. Another, lost his footing and fell down a ravine. Yet another opened a vein in his arm while sharpening his axe. Two more were taken by rabid bear that came inexplicably charging out of the treeline.

One by one by one by one they fell victim to that dark thing and every time they did it fed a little more. And Bran fed with it until he and the darkness were one and the same.

Even the others in the cage, at first so eager to cling to one another for support and for warmth, shrunk back against the bars and cast furtive glances at the little bedraggled halfling. In time all but one were dead and gone. Some buried but most later just lying by the wayside as the bandits came to question and suspect first those among them and slayed eachother in swift, bloody fights that brought immense satisfaction.

But that last one. A young goblin name Athakk came to the cage in tears by the end. It was broken by days of misfortune that had befallen it and it’s fellows. Though in truth most of that were just the hardships of travelling in this unforgiving land or by untrusting one’s fellows, that dark thing didn’t care and neither did Bran.

With trembling hands the goblin opened the cage door and fell into a foetal position before it, waiting for the cursed halfling to strike him dead where he lay. The remainder of his Circle, those he had once called kith and kin practically fell over eachother to escape those confines and the cold, cold air within.

But Bran simply stepped out and into the forest, leaving the goblin to wallow and to whatever fate that befell it.

He hadn’t spoken a word in 7 days.

It took that time and more to get back to the Circle but all that was left there for him was misery. For hours he lay among the stone menhirs and the bodies of his loved ones and screamed his hatred and loss at the uncaring stone and trees around him. But then that scorpion, that tiny green and black thing somehow found him and crawled upon his hand.

Whether it spoke to him or not he cannot tell to this day. But with it he no longer felt alone.

--------------
He pushes the door open to his shack. A shamble of a place built with scavenged wood and boards from the town. Inside is warm and as comfortable as he needs it to be with nothing more than a small cot, a cooking pot and a row of tattered books.

In the years since that incident he had turned to the town for the chance to start his life anew. Phaendar took him in as it does all survivors. The town cared for him, cleaned him and treated his wounds. He started to feel part of something again.

In time he began to repay that debt and the darkness receded somewhat. His hands were skilled in setting bones and stitching wounds and he even had some magical ability to heal beyond that. Assisting Vane, they treated fighters escaping the war or villagers who occasionally made their way to the town having suffered the same fate as his own Circle.

But in the Summer that he arrived there was a terrible harvest. Mites had eaten through the crop and most of it was ruined and so the town knew that hardship would beset them in the months ahead. Worse, some of the other survivors of his Circle arrived in town and though he was overjoyed to see them, they began to tell tale of their escape and with each telling the story grew darker, and more violent and more evil.

Some of the children fell sick from hunger that Fall and the townsfolk eyes began to look at him with the same fear as those he remembered pressed against the bars of that cage.

It wasn’t long after that he was turned out.

Sometimes one of those veterans will make their way to his shack and he will happily treat them, knowing that for the sake of their own place in the community, they would never tell anyone of the healing he provided them. He doesn’t blame them for that. Instead he just enjoys what time he has with them where he can feel the warmth of contact, hear their stories and do what he can to heal their ills and he loves them all for that. It is a simple thing to have some human contact when you are perpetually alone. But it is a good thing. And it is for those moments of kindness that he still harbors a love for Phaendar, even if it is unrequited.

Now, eking out a meagre existence in the woods, Bran comes to town only when he is permitted to sell his herbs and remedies. Though he is never known by that name and in fact, has almost forgotten it himself. Now he just goes by the curse that is spit at him through clenched teeth.

Jinx.

GM Post

Context - Just wanted to throw in a GM post. I think the quality is pretty good and I like to keep up a decent standard.

Efanydd - haughty investigator

Context - Just wanted to show I have a pretty adaptable writing style. Efan is less your classic hero and much more snarky.

RIP Poloius Fynch

Context - This was one of my favourite characters but the team was really in trouble and there didn’t seem a way out. It is set in a zombie apocalypse where he was searching for his son. He sacrificed himself for the others to live. I’m not saying it’s perfect, but it was a character death that felt satisfactory.

Brandon about to hulk out

Context - Brandon was an alchemist who I played as having an actual different phsycial state when drinking his mutagen. Classic Jekyl and Hyde. In this scene the team had decided to coup de grace a bunch of goblins that we had subdued.

For all her other features, with her white hair falling in elaborate braids past her shoulders and framing her dark grey skin, nothing is so obvious and dominant about Rook's appearance as her obvious drow heritage. Rook carries herself with the poise of divine statuary, and to meet her gaze can seem like staring into the swirling, blue eye of a hurricane. Depending on how those around her feel, Rook is either soothing, exciting, or unsettling. She is aware of the effect she has, and she embraces the distance it puts between her and other people. While she is quick to compliment and has an easy laugh, she can't help but understand and act on the utility of the good will she engenders. For good or ill, to Rook every smile and every cocked eyebrow is a chirurgeon's tool.

Rook learned about her parents when she was very young. The druids told her about it like they were predicting the weather. The moon would be full in two weeks, it would rain for three days starting tomorrow, and Rook was conceived in an act of hate.

They could only speculate what actually drove Rook's mother mad. It might have been whatever the drow raiding party had done to her and her caravan. It might have been some awful shadow of the Darkblight that had begun to spread so fast through the Fangwood. Whatever happened that day, both Rook and her mother's madness were born there, in the blood and dark. The dryad who rescued Rook's mother later succumbed to that awful fungal corruption. She had heard Rook's mother weeping in the woods.

It was no secret in Crystalhurst; there they had little room for the social legerdemain of normal communities. Little Rook was a harbinger of the blight. The tragedy that surrounded her birth was the way of the world. Seasons turned. Summer fires burned away the forests Gozreh loved in the spring. Floods stole away the people who had done everything right to appease their nixie and naiads neighbors. Hungry wolves would tear even one of Erastil's faithful servants into the meat he was made of. Some of the druids of Crystalhurst looked at Rook and only saw the dusky skin and the blight that gave them to her.

Some, but not all.

Aspen Zora, the Archdruid of Crystalhurst, saw Rook's deep connection to nature immediately. It was a spark they shared. In the night, when Rook would not wince from the sun's relentless rays, they stole into the deepest canopies of Fangwood, where Rook heard the songs that satyrs have sung to nymphs with words that sounded like birdsong and wailing wind. She played hide and seek with grigs. Nixies showed Rook how to hear stories from the rivers that made Rook cry freshwater tears. When Rook had seen fifteen moons, Aspen even took her to meet a leprechaun taught the little girl jokes that would make all the men of their circle blush to hear them.

Aspen told Rook they didn't have to meet with her, the fey of Fangwood. They saw the shadow in Rook's skin. They could smell where the fungus still lingered and touched her soul. But they saw the light in her, just as Aspen saw it, even when light seemed to chastise Rook. Aspen told Rook that was the gospel of Gozreh. There was beauty that could only be seen at night, when some could see nothing at all.

Rook clung to Aspen's faith in her as the wartime world of Nirmathas tested her again and again. Rook saw what the Molthuni did to the supply trains that believed they would be safe in the Fangwood. When Rook and her companions found the Molthuni, laughing over their fire, she wished she had learned from redcaps or nuckelevees. Rook pretended not to notice the glowering suspicion the humans directed to her as she helped replant the crops the Molthuni burned. As she looked at the livestock they had butchered, Rook wanted to be the storm instead of the rain.

Now a young woman possessed of uncommon guile and beauty, Rook has learned to conceal much of the war in her heart. She expects the tepid or cold reactions of those who see her, and she has learned to whisper when others would shout and to smile when others would snarl. She was raised by Aspen to be an exception, and although she often has to conceal a sensitive heart, she has become adept at never revealing what she does not wish others to see. Despite the fear she sees in others' eyes when they gaze on the skin her father bestowed on her, Rook still goes the extra mile to help those in need, to be a vessel of compassion, even when her instincts might otherwise have her look for a bloodier solution.

Two years ago on a moonless night, Rook was returning to Crystalhurst after three nights learning all the names a certain faun had for the wind (which he would only tell in song). Normally Rook was most alert at night, but she could not stop from sleeping. It was foolish and dangerous mistake. Morning was far. Too many sleepless nights with the faun had tired her to the bone. She collapsed against an old oak and awoke to a gentle-furred head butting her awake. Rook froze. The panther had eyes like gold, but its black fur seemed to blend it against the night all around them, despite Rook's incredible visual senses. The panther stared unblinking into hers. Rook tried to mask her fear, but she trembled just the same. The panther brushed his cheek against her, then its body, insistently. Then he buried his head under her armpit and urged her to stand. Somehow, like they shared the same heartbeat, Rook felt the panther's fear for her. The panther needed her to move. Together, with Rook exhausted, the two trudged throught the total darkness back toward Crystalhurst. Two years ago on a moonless night was the last day Rook was ever without her wolf Bishop at her side.

Human Cleric 1 (Herald Caller of Alseta)
Rhowen Ghalwyr
Alignment N
BAB +0
HP 1D8+2C
Saves (Base F2 R0 W2)
AC
INIT +5

STR 14
DEX 12
CON 13
INT 14
WIS 16
CHA 10

Feats
1 Scribe Scroll
H1 Improved Initiative

Skills (7):
Spellcraft (1)
Knowledge Arcana (1)
Knowledge Planes (1)
Knowledge Nature (1)
Knowledge History (1)
Knowledge Religion (1)
Heal (1)

Traits
1 Frontier Healer (+1 to Heal & Knowledge Nature, Knowledge Nature is a class skill, +1 when restoring hit points using the Heal skill or Cure spells and +1 @ lvl3, 5 and so on.)
2 Inspired (Once per day, roll twic on a skill or ability check and take the best result)

Spells Per Day & Spells Memorized:
0 (3): Detect Magic, Light, Guidance
1 (2+1): Bless (D), Shield of Faith, Summon Monster I

Special
Weapon and Armor Proficiency: Light armor and simple weapons.
Aura: Character has a powerful Lawful aura.
Channel Positive Energy: Channeling energy causes a burst that affects all creatures of one type (either undead or living) in a 30-foot radius centered on the cleric. The amount of damage dealt or healed is equal to 1d6 points of damage plus 1d6 points of damage for every two cleric levels beyond 1st (2d6 at 3rd, 3d6 at 5th, and so on). Creatures that take damage from channeled energy receive a Will save to halve the damage. The DC of this save is equal to 10 + 1/2 the cleric’s level + the cleric’s Charisma modifier. Creatures healed by channel energy cannot exceed their maximum hit point total—all excess healing is lost. A cleric may channel energy a number of times per day equal to 3 + her Charisma modifier. This is a standard action that does not provoke an attack of opportunity. A cleric can choose whether or not to include herself in this effect. A cleric must be able to present her holy symbol to use this ability.
Community Domain:
Calming Touch (Sp): You can touch a creature as a standard action to heal it of 1d6 points of nonlethal damage + 1 point per cleric level. This touch also removes the fatigued, shaken, and sickened conditions (but has no effect on more severe conditions). You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Wisdom modifier.
Herald Caller http://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/core-classes/cleric/archetypes/paizo-cleric -archetypes/herald-caller-cleric-archetype/
Skill Ranks per Level: 4 + Int modifier.
Dedicated Summoner:
A herald caller depends on summoned allies to overcome her foes, which affords her little experience with the martial pursuits typical of other clerics and a narrower spiritual focus. A herald caller can choose only one domain from her deity’s list of domains, rather than the normal two domains, and she doesn’t gain proficiency with medium armor or shields. This ability alters the cleric’s domains and armor proficiencies.
Call Heralds (Su):
A herald caller can channel stored spell energy into summoning spells that she hasn’t prepared ahead of time. She can lose a prepared spell in order to cast any summon monster spell of the same level or lower. She gains a +1 bonus on concentration checks to cast a summon monster spell defensively. This bonus increases to +2 at 5th level, and increases by 1 every 5 cleric levels thereafter.
Divine Heralds (Su):
A herald caller can use summon monster spells only to summon creatures particularly appropriate to her deity. This includes all creatures listed as summon monster options for priests of her deity (see Expanded Summoning for Clerics), creatures whose alignment matches at least one aspect of her deity’s alignment, and creatures of an elemental subtype that matches a domain granted by the deity (if any). When summoning a creature that is normally summoned with the celestial or fiendish template, a herald caller of a chaotic deity can instead summon it with the entropic template, and a herald caller of a lawful deity can instead summon it with the resolute template. Because of these summoned monsters’ strong ties to the herald caller’s deity, the herald caller also gains specific benefits with creatures she summons with summon monster spells gained from her cleric spell list. The herald caller and her summoned monsters can understand each other’s spoken words as if they shared a common language (though this doesn’t give summoned monsters the ability to speak if they normally lack it). Whenever the herald caller uses channel energy to heal, she can include all of her summoned monsters, even if they are out of her normal channel energy radius or of a creature type that would not normally be affected. If she channels energy to deal damage, she can exclude any of her summoned monsters that would normally be affected.
Alseta’s Spells:
Can prepare Open/Close as a 0-level spell, Arcane Lock & Knock as 2nd level spells.

Gear
Longspear
Dagger
Studded Leather
Scrollcase
Healer’s Kit
Calligraphy Kit

* Tell me about your character. I care less at this point about completed mechanics (I want to know race/class/archetypes, but I'm not going to be looking at stat blocks) and don't expect you to create an alias (you can if you want to, but I don't expect it). I DO want to know some basics about your character: What does she look like? What has he done so far in life? (This doesn't need to be a book -- you're first level -- but give me some idea of your back story.) What does she like or dislike? What is his lifelong ambition?

Rhowen Ghalwyr is a young human priestess who worships Alseta, a relatively obscure but nonetheless important goddess. The Lady of Doorways watches over portals and the transition of time, making Rhowen a (going by her current level & abilities) rather ill prepared priestess if the region were to be thrown into darkness. This because of the region’s close connection to the Fey world and poor Rhowen having only mastered the most basic of Alseta’s divine powers.

Rhowen is a shapely brunette who, much to the chagrine of her smaller father, is almost six feet tall. Doe-eyed with a dimpled smile, her green eyes stare into the world with a sense of wonder. She’s prone to smiling, reflecting her positive outlook on life. Her strong arms and legs betray the woman’s heritage as she comes from a long line of Nirmathati foresters, sturdy build individuals, and is further complimented by her tendency to go for long walks and getting involved in physical activities for her work as a priestess often involved long periods of contemplative study. She tends to wear her long brown hair in a braid. Without tattoos, the only blemish on her body is a wicked scar that runs up from her hip halfway down her right thigh. As a young teen she had fallen out of a tree and the branch she had sat upon had left a permanent memory of this near death event.

Rhowen has led a, for Nirmathian standards, blessed life. Her family hails from Chernasardo and provided everything the young girl needed during her childhood. It wasn’t until her teenage years that setbacks slowly started creeping into her life, but even those often came with unexpected blessings. Thirteen year old Rhowen had yet to learn the lesson that those who climb high, tend to fall the hardest and so it happened that on one day, during a daring venture with some friends, the girl found herself perched perilously on a branch and just as she was soaking up the magnificent view, now able to see the forest’s canopy for miles on end, the tree croaked as its branch snapped. Rhowen’s daedalic flight left her unconscious and with a gaping wound and if it weren’t for her friends who hastily carried her back to a nearby village, that would’ve been the end of her story.

There, in a hovel which name appears on no known map, a wizened woman nursed her back to health. “Not all windows are meant for us to look through” the crone had told her while administering a foul herbal to the suffering girl. With a grin she had added, “Just like some tresholds are best not stepped over until the time is right.” Her mysterious comments got the girl thinking and led to one question after another, which the crone used to explain the ways of Alseta to Rhowen in a piecemeal manner. The woman insisted on accompanying her back home and when her father saw the crone, he told Rhowen to go inside. Never did he explain or elaborate on what he had discussed with the woman, but Rhowen then was to visit her every other week.

Those days were now some eight years behind her and it had been four years ago that Rhowen’s mother had succumbed to an unknown affliction and two years since the woman, named Arla, had passed away. It had become Rhowen’s task to pick up on her duties as Alseta’s caretaker, a job she was ill prepared for, but slowly she had found her feeting in the last two years. A year ago her father passed away in his sleep and with little left in the region, Rhowen moved with what little belongings she had to Phaendar, unable to deal with the holes left in her life with the passing of those three oh so important people whilst spending her days in places that ever reminded her of them.

Rhowen severely dislikes climbing, easily breaking into a panicky sweat when forced to. She can’t stand liars and abhors alcohol, perhaps because it doesn’t take her much to swing from a sobre state to a rather tipsy one. Her greatest passion are books and the wild, making for a rather odd combination, but the former is a gateway to knowledge and the latter a window into a world worth discovering. While she’s as curious as it gets, Rhowen is a little clumsy and awkward with strangers and in groups. A true countryside girl, she sees Phaendar as a proper city and has a love for the place that some Phaendarians find rather funny, if not outright silly.

Her ambition, other than being able to feel like she hasn’t disappointed Arla in taking over her duties and responsibilities, is to gaze upon sights beyond imagination (for the mortal mind) and walk the path of Alseta: to meet and converse with the Fey, to delve deeper into the secrets of this world, and take care of it.

* This may be part of the above bullet point, but what's your character's connection to Phaendar? The adventure starts in the Nirmathi town, and the traits in the Player's Guide offer you several reasons you could be there. What's your reason? Do you have friends and/or family there? Tell me about them.

Rhowen lives and works in Phaendar and its vicinity. Recently she’s developed a rather strange affinity for the place and through her work, has made some friends and many acquaintances. The town has a neverending demand for healing and remedies, what with its citizens having either rather physical (and demanding) jobs and there being quite a few veterans from the many conflicts Nirmathas has been involved in.

Through that, she met a hagged man named Loryl who had survived the war, but lost his wife and daughter in it. He sees it as his duty to take care of the sometimes naïve and quite inexperienced Rhowen, and she takes delight in making the man smile, knowing he doesn’t have much time left until Pharasma’s embrace. He deserved at least some kindness and happiness in his latter years.

A local merchant, Rene of Avos, is her source of news on the region and the one who supplies her with books. The man often ain’t around, but when he returns to Phaendar from his travels he’s sure to bring a book along for the priestess.

Her old friends have grown up and formed families back in her home region and at least once a year she tries to make time to go back and visit them.

* How do you see the character developing? This doesn't have to be definitive -- plans change as the story develops (my Varisian mesmerist is realizing she needs some sword practice, for instance...) -- but give me some idea of what you're thinking.

Being uprooted and no longer able to settle into predictable patterns will be a true test of faith for Rhowen. It is easy to wake over dormant portals, the relationship between Fey and Mortals and the transition of the seasons in times of peace, but now she’ll have to bear more responsibility than she might be capable of. Learning to cope with her new situation, to keep a positive outlook, and to guide the world around her in the way Alseta would want her to are Rhowen’s primary concerns and challenges. This means that anything Fey related will be high on agenda. How then will she develop? By facing these challenges and hopefully maturing both as a person and a priestess.
Mechanically she will acquire more summoning related feats and learn to summon ever more powerful creatures. A cleric’s path forward is pretty much determined by the selection of archetypes and domains at level one, so there’s that.

* What timezone are you in and when do you typically post?
CET (the Netherlands) and early mornings, late afternoons and evenings.
* Tell me about your gaming experience. If you're a PBP veteran, link to 1-3 of your favorite posts you've written, which give me some idea of your writing style. If you're new to PBP, write a couple sample pushing posts. I'm looking to see how you write, as that's the medium we all communicate in for PBP.

I started playing D&D when I was 12 and rolled into a weekly group when I was 15, meaning I got more than a decade of gaming experience. Other than D&D, I’ve also played Star Wars, D20 Modern, Vampire the Masquerade and some Warhammer Dark Heresy & Fantasy. I’ve also been playing a browser based music game with a hefty focus on narrative RP for over a decade now. Other than that, I’ve studied history and my love for that field might sometimes shimmer through in my characters.
Example one: http://paizo.com/campaigns/HellsRebelsWithGMZek/gameplay&page=15#701 (in reaction to http://paizo.com/campaigns/HellsRebelsWithGMZek/gameplay&page=14#699 )
Example two: http://paizo.com/campaigns/HellsRebelsWithGMZek/gameplay&page=15#704 (a follow up to example one)
Example three: http://paizo.com/campaigns/DMFangDragonSRuinsOfAdventure/gameplay#27

Female Human (Chelaxian)/Unchained Rogue/Thug
Appearance: 5'6", dark green eyes, dark black hair, pale skin
Backstory: Allara was born in the slums of Cheliax to an abusive alcoholic father, who used to beat her on a daily basis. She was too poor to afford school so she is not very book smart. Her father forced her to assault locals and rob them to support his drinking habit. It wasn't difficult as Allara's good looks often lulled her victims into a false sense of security before she attacked. After years of control over her, Roshana reached her breaking point, when her father one night told her he was indebted to some local crime lord and he was going to pimp her out to pay his debts. It was at that moment that she realized enough was enough and this man had lost his right to hurt her anymore. She just stood there with a cold look in her eyes that screamed "You are dead to me." She calmly said no and turned to walk out the home when her father grabbed her arm with the intent of beating her. Allara had quite enough and she pulled the sap she used to club her robbery victims at night and beat her father till she blacked out. In the morning, she realized she had beaten him to death. She felt no remorse. She wahed the blood off her hands and her sap and calmly walked to the local watering hole and informed the Chelaxian crime lord, Bruno, that her father was dead and that there would be no repayment of the debt. She instead offered him his services as a thief. Several of the locals in the inn laughed but when she walked up to them and looked them straight in the eye, they saw true fear in the girl's dead eyes. Bruno agreed and Allara worked for him faithfully for five years, before his prostitution business and his treatment of them irked her and she left his employ with over 100 pieces of his gold. Realizing he had contacts through Cheliax, Allara fled to start a new life in Phaendar.
Personality: Despite her good intentions buried deep inside, Allara comes off as quite arrogant due to her Chelaxian blood and when she gets serious, her eyes inspire terror in her enemies.
Likes: Sunsets, wild flowers, and the color velvet
Dislikes: Domestic violence, abuse or oppression of women, caves
Ambition: Become strong and powerful enough to return and kill Bruno so she won't have to live looking over her shoulder, find joy in life, use her skills to inspire terror for good, as she is tired of the violence she has endured for the last 18 years.
Connection to Phaendar: She has been living a monotonous life in Phaendar for the past 4 months and has formed a female sisterly bond with Rhyna due to their shared Chelaxian ancestry, as she has no other family.
Development: Character's role will be debuffing with shaken/frightened/debilitating injury combo and two-weapon fighting with sneak attack. She will have +9 on Intimidate checks to demoralize at 1st level. My plan right now is go straight rogue and act as face/trap finder/and debuffer for group.
Timezone: EST and I usually post 2-3x a day, depending on the flow of game.
Gaming experience: I have been playing for 20+ years and for 7+ on the boards. I have played an Age of Worms campaign from 1st level to currently 20+, which is still ongoing. Here is the link so you can see my writing style (I am Valgrim):Link
I have DMed a few campaigns which died out, mostly to my disappearance but I have never disappeared on a game as a player, so I am quite reliable.