RoW: Let's Thaw the Frozen Stars! (Inactive)

Game Master Daxter

Skill Focus (Survival)
Weapon Finesse
Point-Blank Shot
Favored Enemy (Human)
Track
Wild Empathy

She grew up around nature for her whole life, learning how to track and hunt down game for food. As well as how to take care of herself if she got caught in a storm, or cornered by a beast thanks to her father. He actually was an ex-Ranger, one of few who lived to see retirement. And he passed on his knowledge and skills to Seylan when she was old enough.

When she was 26, Seylan decided she wanted to use her handed down knowledge and skills to help people. She would regularly hear tales of those who got lost in the forest, or nearby mountains whenever they headed to the neighboring city. Both of her parents were worried when she brought it up, particularly her father. Since he knew how dangerous that kind of life could be. And while neither parent agreed, they didn't stop her from joining the Rangers and becoming a Tracker. Tasked with finding lost folk and protecting towns and settlements against encroaching monsters.

Her first mission had her sent to the far north, the town of Heldren. At first, she was looked upon with suspicion and distrust because of her half nature, and just appearing out of thin air to help. But even in that cold, dark region of the world, her friendly smile and down-to-earth attitude helped warm things over with the populous, and they eventually accepted her help.

Two years have passed since she began. She has yet to stray from the village of Heldren, and has yet to meet anyone willing to venture out into this world with her. She couldn't blame them; These Winterlands were harsh and unforgiving. But, she was curious what was out there. After helping fend off minor monsters and make sure all heads were counted for each night. She wanted to know what could live out here, and if there were any other towns like this one she could visit.

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I'll flesh out his background when the Muse strikes me

“As you’ll have guessed from looking at me, there are some who say I’m touched by the fey – though I don’t believe it. Fey folk have magic, and fear the touch of iron, and neither is true of me, and I can grow a beard when I choose. Though I can’t claim to not be a bit different from most folk. Cold doesn’t touch me, never has – and that’s how I came to leave the cold lands of the north.”

“My mother – Gunhild was her name - was older, past the age where she could expect to have a child, and full of sadness for the lack of a little one to love, but she was a beauty for the skalds to sing of. My father was younger by some years, mad with love for her and filled with rage – I think he wanted only to make her happy, and he blamed their childlessness on himself. That is what I was told, at any rate, by my uncle Kjartan, my sister’s elder brother, for that was all before I was born. And about that, I know nothing, for I am a foundling.”

“My mother used to tell me the story of how she found me. How she was out walking one day, having told my father she was going to look for spring herbs, though winter had not yet begun to relinquish its grip and no herbs were to be found on the snow on that bitter, icy day. I think she just wanted to be alone with her sadness, though she never said as much to me. In any case, she discovered my tiny body, even paler than you see me now, on a patch of ice in the shade of a great soldier pine. A woman who wanted nothing in the world more than her own child, she could not fathom how anyone could leave a babe out to die on the ice. She picked me up and to her amazement, pale and cold as I was, I cried out. And so did she, in joy and amazement, that she held a child, and at the thought that the child could be her own.”

“She wrapped me in her shawl and carried me quickly home, and her joy must have filled my father’s heart with gladness, to see her smile and laugh so at the change in her fortune. I guess they were happy for some years, though my mother much more so than my father. He had wanted a son of his own line, and one not so scrawny and…well, fey. Children left by the fey folk are not uncommon near Elfmeet, in the west of Icemark, not so very far from my home, and he came to believe more and more strongly that I was one of them. Though I’ll say again, I may look it, but I don’t believe I’ve got a drop of fey blood in me. But that’s not the tale we’re telling here, is it? My mother was happy, and loved me dearly. My father took good enough care of me when I was just a boy, though there was little love between us. As I grew, that little love became less. He felt I had taken his place in my mother’s affections, and resented me, and as I grew older, we fought. With words, I should say, at least at first. We would argue and shout and he would threaten, but before he could lay a hand on me, I would vanish into the wild, into the cold.”

“As I said, the cold doesn’t really touch me, and I took to disappearing into the woods and mountains – just for a few hours at first when I was very young, even walking out the door barefoot, in need of the peace and well-being I could find in the cold woods, where few others ventured and I could be alone. I hunted as a boy with my uncle, and he had seen I had some gifts in that regard, and that I would stick to a task until I saw it through, and he came to regard me kindly, perhaps even love me. He taught me what he knew of woodcraft and survival, and I built upon that.”

“As I grew, I travelled further and longer, and came to see I was not alone in the cold. The beasts of the frozen plains and the Iceworm Hills came to be my companions and my fascination. I would track and study them, moving through the hills without a sound, learning their ways and weaknesses, their secrets and strengths. Some I learned to avoid, some I failed to avoid and had no choice but to fight them to survive – though my study of them helped me in those fights, no doubt. Other creatures I was able to come to an understanding with, more so than with many people, and the cold wilds truly became my home.”

“My mother ever worried about my rangings, and her concern, and my lack of it, were the death of her. In my 15th winter, after a bitter argument with my father, I snatched up my pack and my weapons and set out on a long trek. I was gone for nearly two weeks, longer than ever before, when my mother took it upon herself to look for me. She was ill-prepared for such an outing, and told no one, leaving the house crazed with worry about me. She got lost, or gave up, or something, and was gone overnight, and found by my father after some days, frozen to death – and of all this I knew nothing. When I returned home, my father attacked me – and this time not with words. He said I was no son of his, and called me a son of the ice, for I had been born to the ice, and now had made my mother ice as well.”

“Forgive me, I need a moment. I have never told this entire tale to anyone, and it was not so very long ago.”

“Where was I? Ah yes, a son of the ice. That is now my name, Ísson, as I‘ve no wish to carry my father‘s name, and it reminds me of what my carelessness and selfishness did to my mother.“

“So, my father and I fought, both fueled by sorrow and rage, and to my surprise, I bested him. I had been hardened by my ranging and my instinct for studying my prey had taught me much about my father, though I never thought to use it. As I say, I bested him, and would have killed him had not my Uncle Kjartan come running into the house and stayed my hand. He told me that my mother had loved us both, son and father, and would not wish us to harm each other. I saw he was right and, for my mother‘s sake, I stepped away from my father, who promptly snatched up a wood-axe and tried to kill me. My uncle held him off while I made my escape, for I knew my father would fight me to the end, and there is only one way for a fight to end when one man is unwilling to kill the other.“

“I left my home that day, some four winters ago, to place as much distance as I could between myself and my father, who I fear still seeks some strange vengeance on me. I had heard tales of the Ulfen Guard, who serve the Grand Prince of Taldor, and thought I might join them. On that feeble notion, I made my long way south and east, learning the ways and dangers of new lands and beasts. “

“Happily, I learned that at the end of an Ulfen Guardsman’s service, he is allowed to take as much treasure as he can carry from the royal treasury. Unfortunately, I also learned this means they’re not inclined to take on many stray Ulfens who come to collect on such a prize. I’ve gotten to know a few of the Guards, but they have not yet invited me to join their ranks. So now I use my skills as a woodsman to guide travelers and hunters, and scrape together a living in these warm lands. And, here where there are so many more people than in the frozen north, I study my fellow man as I once only studied the creatures of the wild, noting their strengths and weaknesses, the good and ill of their ways. It is a fascinating study. And when that study turns my mood too dark, I set out and find the coldest place I can, as much as that is possible in this part of the world, away from people, to seek quiet and peace.“

The silvery-white chain shirt Kalt wears was a gift from his Uncle Kjartan, before Kalt fled home to escape his father’s wrath. Kjartan gave it to Kalt to protect him should his father come seeking him, which seemed all too likely, given the killing rage Kalt’s father was in when Kalt fled home. Kjartan had worn it in his own ranging days as a young man, but having grown old and stout, he felt no one deserved it more – nor was likely to need it more in his life – than his frosty nephew, as he set out into the world.

Kalt has never connected easily with his fellow man. He is kind enough, and interested in the people around him, but he is a poor communicator of this interest, often seeming cold and distant by virtue of his appearance and awkwardness. At times, this bothers him, and he struggles against it to make friends. At other times, when he seeks the solace of wild places, or the solitude of a frosty winter night, he feels that he needs no one else. He is generally able to maintain his good cheer well enough by keeping a balance between these two moods, though it is a lonely life. His solo travels have put him in many hard situations where he has had only himself to rely on, and he has come to be a swift decision-maker, and a daring one. He doesn‘t hesitate in the face of danger. In fact, he has been known to take the riskier route, just for the adventure in it.

DEFENSE
AC 16, touch 12, flat-footed 14 (+4 armor +2 Dex)
HP 13 (1d10 +2 Con +1 favored class)

Saving Throws
Fortitude: +5 (+2 level, +2 Con, +1 trait)
Reflex: +4 (+2 level, +2 Dex)
Will: +2 (+0 level, +2 Wis)

OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft.

Melee Longsword, 2H: +4 (1d8+6/19-20/x2)
Melee Longsword, 2H with Power Attack +3 (1d8+7/19-20/x2)
Melee Light Mace: +4 (1d6+3/20/x2)
Melee Dagger: +4 (1d4+3/19-20/x2)
Ranged Dagger, Thrown: +3 (1d4+3/19-20/x2/10' increment)
Ranged Sling: +3 (1d4+3/x2/50' increment)

STATISTICS
Str 17, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8
Base Atk +1, ; CMB +4; CMD 16
Feats Power Attack, Cleave
Traits Armor Expert, Northern Ancestry

Trained Skills (Ranks per level = 6)
Intimidate: +4 (1 rank, +3 class)
Knowledge (geography): +4 (1 rank, +3 class)
Knowledge (nature): +4 (1 rank, +3 class)
Perception: +6 (1 rank, +3 class, +2 Wis)
Stealth: +5 (1 rank, +3 class, +2 Dex, -1 armor)
Survival: +6 (+7 to track) (1 rank, +3 class, +2 Wis)

Untrained Skills
Acrobatics: +1 (+2 Dex, -1 armor)
Climb: +3 (+3 Str, -1 armor)
Diplomacy: -1 -1 Cha
Heal: +2 (+2 Wis)
Sense Motive: +2 (+2 Wis)
Swim: +2 (+3 Str, -1 armor)

Languages Common, Ulfen
Other Gear 14 GP | Longsword, Dagger, Light mace, Sling (20 bullets), Chain shirt, Pathfinder's Kit (backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, mug, 2 fishhooks, flint & steel, sewing needle, signal whistle, 50’ string, 50’ thread, 2 water skins, whetstone, 7 days rations), Rope, 50', 3 torches

SPECIAL ABILITIES
Ranger’s Focus: 1/day, select 1 enemy as swift action, gain +2 attack and damage
Track: add ½ level to Survival roll to track (+1)
Wild Empathy: improve initial attitude of an animal, works like Diplomacy skill, add ½ level to roll (+1)
Damage Resistance, cold (2)

RACIAL TRAITS
Heart of the Snows: treat cold climates as one category less severe; +2 on Fortitude saves vs effects of cold climates, on any check or saving throw to avoid slipping and falling, and to CMD against trip combat maneuvers. This bonus applies on Acrobatics and Climb checks made in slippery conditions.

The bandits made it back to their camp, and Brutus and his family group were added to a large group of slaves headed and bound for Elidir. During the trip, a few of the mothers tried to free as many of the children as they could. Two of the girls got away, but when Brutus' mother, Eliza, was working on his own knots, the guards realized what was happening. None of the women survived the encounter. The only thing Brutus can remember of his mother was warm eyes and a loving smile, thankfully, the rest was blocked out.

Brutus grew up in slavery, and as a child slave was often given mundane chores like sweeping the floors, caring for pets, cleaning the table after meals, and cutting and collecting firewood. His favorite chore was the firewood, because it was the one that got him out of the houses he was staying in the longest. Often, when he went out to cut the evenings supply, he would make a break for it. He developed a reputation as a rebellious child who needed a number of good beatings to keep him in line. After bouncing between owner after owner in Elidir, finally, his last owner had had enough. She contacted a slave caravan that was headed east and sold him.

Out of the city in which he had spent most of his 14 year old life, Brutus was lumped into a group of slaves headed for Taldor. Someone, somewhere, was looking down on Brutus that day. He could have been sold to any number of slavers or bandits that populate Isger, but he was sold to this particular slave train, one that was forced to cross the Andoran countryside. The slavers weren't thrilled with it, if there was one place they were hated, it was Andoran, but the pay off was worth the risk and so they started across, under cover of night, in hopes of making it through Andoran unnoticed.

Little did they know though, that their route was one that had been watched. Reports of bandits and slavers using the route led a group of adventures to keep it under surveillance, and even to set an ambush in the Eastern portions of the Andoran landscape, near the Verduran forest. The slavers had no idea what hit them, and they were quickly and quietly subdued. The group of vigilantes consisted of a few local woodsmen, a ranger who was intimidating with her bow, and a man who ran unarmed and unarmored into the fray but dealt crushing blows with his hands, feet, elbows, and knees. The woodsmen took the bound and defeated slavers away to be tried, leaving the task of freeing the prisoners to the monk, a man named Eronus, and the ranger, a woman named Viltae.

In that particular caravan, there were 26 slaves. Most of them had been somewhat local, either from the western edge of Andoran, or travelers in Isger like Brutus' family more than a decade ago. Though most were relatively local, there were a few who came from much more distant regions. Brutus' olive skin and long black hair set him apart as an obvious foreigner on the Andoran landscape. When Viltae finally got around to questioning Brutus, she found out that out of all the slaves, he was the only one who truly was alone with no home or family to return to. Not only that, but she realized that what she saw before her was a young man who was filled with anger, bitterness, and rage. The spirit that had led him to escape numerous owners, the stubborn streak that had earned him so many lashes and beatings, was obvious during that first interview, and something about that attitude worried Viltae. She realized that unless that spirit was molded, it would soon turn the enslaved child into something evil himself. The rage and bitterness would overtake him, and who knows, maybe in a few years, she would find herself on the Andoran landscape one night trying to stop him and his evil actions. She couldn't take that risk.

So Viltae decided to take him in. She lived in a secluded cabin in the Verduran forest. There she brought Brutus, and there she provided and cared for him, and taught him all that she knew. Three or four times a week, the monk Eronus would come by as well, and would teach the boy the ways of Irori. Over time, their generosity, their compassion, their mercy, and their love wore down his defenses. His rage and bitterness begin to subside, and he begin to see the need for discipline and the ability to master his anger and his emotions.

It took a few years, but soon, Brutus, using the techniques that Eronus taught him, was able to harness, control, and direct his emotions how he saw fit. From Viltae, he learned of Erastil, he learned of the hunter who gifted humans with the bow. He learned how to shape wood to form bows and arrows. He learned to survive in the forest, to move quickly and quietly, how to stay alert, and how to hunt and shoot. From Eronus, he learned how to control his emotions, to seek discipline, and the ideal of perfection in mind and body. He upheld the ideals of Irori, in practice at the very least, but the philosophy of Erastil, of living simply, of being good, and protecting those you care about resonated in his being. From these two, Brutus learned what it meant to be good, and from each individually, he learned something different, which he combined into a unique whole. He took up the practices of the monks of Irori, and joined it with the philosophy and weapons of Erastil. He became a monk of Erastil, dedicated to protecting those he loved as well as those who couldn't protect themselves from the evils of this world. Evils that he had been saved and redeemed from, and evils he sought to redeem others from. He transformed his once raging emotions into crystal clear focus and discipline. He was capable of setting a focus and a purpose and carrying that purpose with pinpoint accuracy, and if his purpose called for violence, often his enemy never even saw his judgement coming.

He lived with Viltae till he was 18, then he roamed the woods, putting what she had taught him into practice. He lived on his own, visiting his rescuers often, over the next 3 years. But within him was a desire to see what he had never seen. He wanted to see the kingdoms of Golarian, he wanted to worship in the temples of Erastil, and he wanted to bring freedom from the evils of this world to those who needed it. Viltae and Eronus understood his desire, and they blessed him on his trip. So taking with him his simple clothes, his bow and arrows, and a staff he used as a walking stick, Brutus left, and headed east. He spent much of the last year visiting small hamlets and villages in Taldor. He arrived in Heldren a week ago, and has been staying at the temple of Erastil. He is intrigued by the difficulties the village is facing, and is more than willing to offer his help in their defense and their aid.

DEFENSE
AC 16, touch 16, flat-footed 13 (+4 armor +2 Dex)
HP 9 (1d8 + 1 Con)
Saving Throws
Fortitude: +3 (+2 level, +1 Con)
Reflex: +5 (+2 level, +3 Dex)
Will: +5 (+2 level, +3 Wis)
OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft.
Melee Unarmed Strke: +1 (1d6+1 20/x2)
Melee Unarmed Strike, Flurry of Blows: +0/+0 (1d6+1, 20/x2)
Ranged Longbow (Composite +1): +3 (1d8+1 20/x3 110' increment)
Ranged Longbow (Composite +1) Deadly Aim: +2 (1d8+3 20/x3 110' increment)
Ranged Longbow (Composite +1) Flurry of Blows: +2/+2 (1d8+1 20/x3 110' increment)
Ranged Longbow (Composite +1) Flurry of Blows & Deadly Aim: +1/+1 (1d8+3 20/x3 110' increment)

STATISTICS
Str 12, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 16, Cha 10
Base Atk +0, ; CMB +1; CMD 16
Feats: Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Deadly Aim
Traits: Restless Wayfarer, Poverty-Striken

Trained Skills (Ranks per level = 4 +1 (Favored Class), +1 human)
Craft (Bow): +4 (1 rank, +3 class)
Climb: +5 (1 rank, +3 class, +1 Str,)
Knowledge (history)
Knowledge (local) +1 (+1 Restless Wayfarer)
Knowledge (religion): +4 (1 rank, +3 class)
Perception: +7 (1 rank, +3 class, +3 Wis)
Stealth: +7 (1 rank, +3 class, +3 Dex)
Survival: +8 (1 rank, +3 class, +3 Wis, +1 Poverty-Striken)

Untrained Skills
Acrobatics: +1 (+2 Dex, -1 armor)
Diplomacy: -1 -1 Cha
Heal: +2 (+2 Wis)
Sense Motive: +2 (+2 Wis)
Swim: +2 (+3 Str, -1 armor)
Knowledge (geography): +1 (+1 Restless Wayfarer)

Languages Common, 2 more (Restless Wayfarer)

Other Gear 150 gp (Will purchase if chosen)

SPECIAL ABILITIES
AC Bonus
Flurry of Blows
Perfect Strike
Improved Unarmed Strike

Galganis, or “Lucky” to his friends, was born to a female worker living in Fort Clearwater, a small and relatively unknown outpost on the edge of the Worldwound. Because of his appearance at birth he was instantly shunned by his family and handed over to the crusaders that called the fort their home. Not knowing what to make of the birth, the soldiers brought the child to the attention of Ylyda Svyn, an alchemist of note who had spent her life struggling with the forces of the Worldwound and protecting the borders from further incursions. Ylyda felt a pang of sorrow for the child, knowing it would find no acceptance in a place so driven by conflict with the very creatures that it owed its appearance to. So she kept the child, and raised him within her home. What was indeed unknown to the majority of the fort was that Ylyda herself had become so obsessed with finding a solution for the neverending tide of demons that flowed from the Worldwound that she had begun to experiment on her own people. In time, Galganis would learn this as well.

It was obvious from an early age that Galganis was bright, exceptionally gifted was the term Ylyda used when referring to him. He had an almost insatiable curiosity when it came to lore and history, and she fed this with countless books and tomes on all manner of subjects. He learned about the creatures within the Worldwound as well as those in the rest of the land. He also learned a trade from Ylyda, picking up the fundamentals of alchemy as easily as a fish learns to swim. As he grew he also learned how to survive, shadowing the crusaders that made the fort their home and watching them go about their daily routines and training. Always the outsider, his curiosity would not be held back and he took the muttered comments and quips about his heritage well, knowing that he would be his own man in time. He also began to understand that the experiments that Ylyda was working with were wrong, and he began to distance himself from her. Not before too much exposure to the wild forces left him a bit scarred and unstable in the process.

In time, when Galganis was a young man, he felt the tug of the wide world beyond the fort pull at him, and he knew in his heart it was time to make his way in the world, taking with him all he had learned and finding his calling. He also knew that to stay any longer would be a great risk to himself, as he began to suspect that Ylyda had fallen from the path and was becoming something much worse than the caregiver he knew. He wanted to retain at least a small shred of the good memories he had, and that meant leaving forever. So without any fanfare or pageantry he set off south from Fort Clearwater to follow his own path.

In the years that followed he found himself teamed up with three different groups of adventurers. The first was a group calling themselves “The Band” who had agreed to a mission to plunder the remains of an ancient Thassalonian ruin. After not more than thirty steps into the ancient grounds the party encountered the guardians of the place, stone statues that came to life. Every member was lost except for Galganis, who managed to beat a hasty retreat from the ruins and scramble back to the surface. He reported back to their sponsor that all hands were lost during the adventure, which did not please the man who promptly had him chased from the village. A second group, going by no specific name, came to be formed in the village of Sandpoint. Their quest was to uncover the reasons behind a rash of recent goblin attacks. After the party set out it wasn’t long before they discovered the seemingly abandoned goblin village. In reality these goblins had been laid claim to some rare devices that the goblins proceeded to use against the party, once more killing all but Galganis. He made his way back to the village to report the outcome, and was treated to some rather sour looks. The final group, “The Dawn’s Edge” were a more hardy bunch, having some success until the encounter with the strange being in the woods that ended up luring them all into a hidden pool of quicksand. Galganis, ever wary, was not so quick to follow the light that bobbed through the dark wood and kept his distance. When the party vanished into the muck he did his best to save them, but to no avail. When he reported this to the society that hired the group they called him “Lucky” for surviving the mess and his previous encounters, and the name stuck.

Since then Galganis has been somewhat of a transient, working in places that would have him and keeping his eyes peeled for the next bit of adventure that he might find himself thrown into. His recent travels have taken him to Heldren, where he has been working as an assistant to Tessaraea Willowbark at the Willobark Apothacary while planning his next move. It was only when the recent news of the strange weather out of the Border Woods came that he realized that this might be his chance for another adventure…

Description:

Not all that pleasant to behold, Galganis is a darkly skinned tiefling of just under six feet in height. He sports a pair of large horns which curve over the top of his bald head. He wears a battered suit of studded leather armor crossed with a pair of bandoliers which hold a number of strange and dangerous looking items, from bubbling vials of liquid to needle sharp darts. He keeps a crossbow at his hip and a quiver of bolts along the back of his belt. He keeps a rust colored cloak attached at his shoulders, the hem showing obvious wear and extensive exposure to the elements.