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Submitting the duo of Mikhal Lightheart and Tyranath.
Halfling Summoner 1
NG Small humanoid (halfling)
Init +2; Senses Perception +0
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Defense
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AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 11 (+2 Dex, +1 size)
hp 8 (1d8)
Fort +1, Ref +3, Will +3; +2 bonus vs. illusions, +1 vs. devil's mind-affecting, +2 trait bonus vs. fear
Resist practicality
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Offense
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Speed 15 ft.
Melee quarterstaff +1 (1d4)
Ranged sling +3 (1d3)
Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st; concentration +5)
. . 7/day—summon monster
Summoner Spells Known (CL 1st; concentration +5):
1st (2/day)—grease (DC 16), lesser rejuvenate eidolon
0 (at will)—acid splash, daze (DC 14), detect magic, light
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Statistics
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Str 10, Dex 15, Con 10, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 18
Base Atk +0; CMB -1; CMD 11
Feats Spell Focus (conjuration)
Traits diabolist raised, stoic optimism
Skills Craft (clothing) +6, Craft (jewelry) +8, Knowledge (arcana) +6, Ride +6, Sense Motive +2, Spellcraft +6
Languages Common, Draconic, Elven, Gnome, Halfling
SQ eidolon link, life link, share spells with eidolon
Other Gear quarterstaff, sling, sling bullets (25), sling bullets (15), artisan's tools, artisan's tools, backpack, belt pouch, belt pouch, ink, black, inkpen (6), journal (2), parchment (5), spellbook, 11 gp
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Special Abilities
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Diabolist Raised +1 Bluff, Diplomacy, Intimidate, Sense Motive vs. Westcrown's nobility. +1 save. vs. mind-affecting spells from devils.
Eidolon Link (Ex) Mental link allows communication over any distance, but share magic item slots.
Life Link (Su) Damage that dismisses Eidolon can be taken by you. It weakens if not in 100 ft.
Practicality (Craft [jewelry]) +2 Bonus to saves vs. illusion spells and effects.
Share Spells with Eidolon (Ex) Your spells ignore type restrictions for Eidolon and it can recieve your personal spells.
Spell Focus (Conjuration) Spells from one school of magic have +1 to their save DC.
Stoic Optimism You realize that accepting the pain in life accentuates its joys by contrast, and so your hope sustains you where others despair. You receive a +2 trait bonus on saving throws against fear effects.
Summon Monster I (7/day) (Sp) Standard action summon lasts minutes, but only 1 active at a time and can't use with eidolon.
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Eidolon
Quadruped
NG Medium outsider
Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +4
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Defense
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AC 14, touch 12, flat-footed 12 (+2 Dex, +2 natural)
hp 11 (+1)
Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +0
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Offense
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Speed 40 ft.
Melee bite +3 (1d6+2) and
. . 2 claws +3 (1d4+2)
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Statistics
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Str 14, Dex 14, Con 13, Int 7, Wis 10, Cha 11
Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 15 (19 vs. trip)
Feats Combat Reflexes
Skills Fly +3, Perception +4, Sense Motive +4, Stealth +6
Languages Common
SQ mount
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Special Abilities
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Combat Reflexes (3 AoO/round) Can make extra attacks of opportunity/rd, and even when flat-footed.
Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white vision only).
Mount (Ex) The Eidolon can serve as a combat-trained mount.
Tragically, although having made it to the port town of Westpool, Mikhal's mother died in childbirth, having had too much strain on her body. His father grieved for sometime, but also rejoiced at the birth of his son. While his wife may not have approved, his father quickly sought out work, and found a member of house Thrune looking for a new scribe and courier, and quickly took the position.
Mikhal growing up was a bit of a troublemaker, as halfling children tend to be. He always wanted to look around, move about. He loved having his own little adventures around the house, looking at the finery of jewels and clothing and books and such that made up such trappings for nobility of the ruling class. Many times he would sneak around, and find a small place to hide, and watch various things that happened. This caused Mikhal to have many interesting talks with his father.
Many times Mikhal would find himself watching things he did not understand, and then would have to ask his father, who would then give him the harsh education that is living in Westcrown. The house of Thrune controls all. The summoning and binding of devils is practiced all around. That while being a good man is the right thing, that often times you must be silent or else face the wrath of those in power. Mikhal at times was confused, but listened to his father with rapt attention, always smiling and happy. His father often used to joke that he was not his own son, but Desna's own child, as Mikhal's optimism just seemed to have no bounds.
One of Mikhal's adventures yielded a rather interesting find, a spellbook. But this book was different than most. Rather than the rituals of summoning, or Infernal script which normally covered tomes around the house, this one was golden in color, written in a different language, and very beautiful to his eye. He spent weeks upon weeks reading it, pouring over it and trying to make sense of the words in the book. He didn't feel he was all that smart, but slowly he just seemed to begin to understand it. Like the words weren't so much on a page, but a part of him. As he kept reading, he began to learn about the wonderful creatures called dragons, and specifically the Noble and Just Golden dragons.
Soon after that, he started to tinker with things. Mikhal was always interested in reading, and playing with things figuring out how things worked. He discovered quickly that he had a knack for two things: sewing and jeweling. Mikhal would love to make himself new clothes out of ones that the nobles would discard, and soon he would be wearing garments of very fine silks, and other things that someone his age and station would never be able to afford normally. Being smaller than most, it gave him a chance to try out different methods of making things, and cutting down clothes that he would normally never be able to.
He would also find broken articles of jewelry: necklaces that had broken clasps, bracelets that had damaged chains, bent rings and the like. His favorite thing to do when he found them was to take them home, and using tools that he cobbled together, would try to put them back together in order to be able to take them to a pawnbroker or jeweler to be able to bring back a little extra gold to help out his father.
Mikhal has always had a very sore spot when it came to the house of Thrune. He feels that they use their magical power to try and subjugate the nation, and that if it were taken away from them, that the people of Chelix would see how powerless they really are, and overthrow the house of Thrune in a heartbeat. Mindful of his father's lessons though, he always smiled and put on a happy face. He would often pray to Desna for something, anything, a weapon to fight against Thrune that might one day help bring them down forever. He quickly found something in his old well worn spellbook that might help him. It was a ritual, detailed on how to summon a helper, someone that would be a companion and assistant. Mikhal read over it several times, before he went to find a very quiet place to attempt it.
He hid down in a wine cellar, drawing out a circle and thinking. He said the right words, and began the long procession. His anger against the Diabolists that ran the house started to boil in his blood as he did it, and then in his mind, he saw a picture of a majestic great wyrm Gold Dragon. He imagined such a creature, with such power that he could petition the very heavens for aid and would receive it, as being the savior of his home. He quickly forgot he was doing the ritual and just called out, begging and pleading for something that would be able to help save his beloved home. That was the day he met Tyranath, now his eidolon. More lizard like than dragon, but confident that in time he would grow in power, Mikhal felt like he had something he could use to help fight the good fight.
Nowadays, Mikhal works as a tailor and jeweler, often taking commissions from various people, including from the house of Thrune. He keeps logs and journals of his work, and does his best to be a happy face and positive force. He remembers his father's words, and does his best to just go to work every day, and patiently wait, but at times he still yearns to adventure, to find that which could help being down the Thrice Damned House once and for all.
Hey, everyone. Sorry for the silence round these parts - that's on me, I think.
I'm going to review the applications this weekend and have a selection either by Sunday evening or Monday morning.
There's still time to get your submission in - but sooner is better than later!
Current List:
Maia Silndra - rorek55 - Emberkin Aasimar Wizard
Tervon Valsienne - Darkmeer - Human Rogue
Lymnerus Verevel - Chris O’Reilly - Female Half-Elven Oracle of Life
Enera Aracelsa - aaronak - Enera Aracelsa - Elf Alchemist
Falgrim Holgarson - Stemboy - Dwarf Foehammer
Galen Goodfellow - DM DoctorEvil - Human (Chelaxian) Paladin
Bronan Krass - Cronax - Half Elf Cavalier (Huntmaster)
Lisbeth Jax - Ka-boom - Female Human (Chelaxian) Fighter
Sinder Redscales - CaptainFord - Kobold Monk
Ettore Corna - Seth Parsons - Tiefling Sorcerer
Kyras Brieross - Devastation Bob - Half-Elf Cleric of Milani
Aminah Mikku - Darkfire142 - Human Wizard
Abberforth Blackbone - turnip_head - Human Witch
Stanley Sydell - Troy Malovich - Beast-bonded Hedge Witch
Lucina Tilernos - GM Alice - Paladin of Cayden
Mikhal Lightheart - thestrongangel - Halfling Summoner
Let me know if I've missed anyone!
Same, I've been wanting in on this AP for some time.
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"Blessings of the Inheritor on all of you! I am sure the wise GM will choose only the staunchest and most forthright allies to aid in overthrowing the corrupt government of Thrune and restoring the rightful rulers of this once fine land. Give thanks and rejoice that you have made it this far, but know that only the ablest will continue. May the Inheritor smile on you with favor and aid in your selection!"
"Hm, what are you talking about? What's this GM thing?" A young Chelish woman, previously working the tables at this mysterious extraplanar tavern, looks up at Galen. "Some kind of revolutionary group? Them's dangerous words, y'know?" But a delighted smile creeps onto her delicate lips, and excitement dances like stars behind her eyes; it's clear she wants to hear more. "Might wanna keep your Inheritor talk on the low, though. Look, man, I get it, but... you never know who's listening."
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The fiery young paladin looks at the woman, the dangerous light of religous zeal shining in his eyes. "Make no mistake, lass. The Inheritor does not run or hide. Her Light cannot be hidden. If there are any here who would skulk around reporting those of the true faith to the devil-loving Thrune, let them unsheath their steel and have it out like men!"
His eyes rove across the room of shady characters urging a silent challenge to any that would defend his arch-nemesis the Thrune.
A young woman wearing a light grey traveling cloak turns to her companion seated across from her, a disbelieving look in her eye, "This is who you wanted me to come see? Are you actively trying to get us killed!? You'd had best be jesting..."
Unable to contain it any longer, her companion finally breaks into laughter, "I'm sorry, Lizzy. But with all your talk lately, I just wanted you to see how crazy it sounded. Now you can see for yourself!" he grins, motioning to the man raving at the waitress.
Sinking into a skulk, the young lady grabs a chunk of bread and tosses it half-heartedly at her table companion before picking her mug back up and drinking of it deeply. Silently, and grumpily, she watches the fiery young paladin give his sermons and waits to see what happens, "Mayhaps this wasn't such a great idea afterall."
"Like 'men', huh?" Lucina rolls her eyes quite dramatically as she continues to swab a nearby table down with an old rag. "All I'm getting from this is that you're a headstrong fool with no idea how the real world works."
"All power to you though," she adds with a bemused smile, straightening up and stretching languorously, "but if you think that bluster and straight-up challenges are going to get you far, you'd best think again, Mr. Inheritor follower. There's only one of you, after all--but many, many dottari. And many more Hellknights."
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Galen bangs his mailed fist on the table, making his mug of root beer jump and slosh.
"Hellknights, be damned! We will send as many as stand against us to their eternal torture in the lands of the devils they so love. And as for numbers, I plan to find a troop of worthies to stand with me. Maybe even some in this very room! Arm in arm we will rise up and overthrow the evil masters in Egorian!"
Galen unsheathes his grandfather's sword dramatically, posing as if in victory. "Now who is on the side of the White? Who will stand with me against tyranny and evil?"
The room grows silent as Galen stands and bellows. No one rushes to his side or stands against - it is just pure, awkward silence.
That silence is broken by the clicking of a pistol's hammer. "Put that stick away an' sit down, boy," the surly bartender says, resting the crude and poorly maintained pistol on the bar top. "No need for that kinda talk in 'ere. Get those 'ellknights bangin' down my door again, if ya don' shut it. Have another drink - maybe sumpfin' stronger this time? - and keep it down."
Lucina takes a seat and chuckles to herself, tossing the cleaning rag aside before leaning her chin on her interlocked fingers and eyeing the loud-mouthed idiot of a paladin with a derisive smirk. "You got any brains up there, man? You really think that just shouting about some fantasy-land march against evil is gonna solve anything?"
Her smirk disappears, replaced with an incredibly serious stare. "How 'bout you tell that speech to Gian Salvaggi, this one kid I grew up with. Gone to the gallows, he did, for daring to believe in the same goddess you do."
"Tell that to my old neighbours, the Marconi family, who pissed off the fishmonger down the road and got dobbed in to the dottari on a lie. All of 'em. Not even their little daughter was spared."
"Tell that to a good friend of mine, Micaela. She's too scared to go home 'cuz her husband found out she's been paying regular visits to a church I'm quite fond of."
"You think you're the only one who wants to see this mess cleaned up?" she mutters darkly, "Hardly. But the rest of us don't want to get taken out in the process. Your 'army' would be decimated in an instant. A total waste of good lives, good people... all because you can't shut your big mouth when you need to."
Immediately, the smile returns as Lucina looks over to the gruff barkeep with a wink. "Aye, something strong would be nice! Give me a shot of something hard, if you wouldn't mind. I need a break from cleaning tables."
Mikhal comes in, finding a rather tall chair so that he actually comes up to the bar and orders a drink. He looks over Lucinas way, blinking at her in a very thoughtful manner. "Desna's stars, that is a lot of people. Real question is, what will it take for a nation to finally accept a change like that? To dream a dream where being a citizen that is good and moral is accepted once again?"
He smiles over, busying himself with a rather intricate bracelet, some tools in his hand as he seems to be trying to mend something on it, and set things right on its chain. "Could just be me, but from down here, often times it takes patience, long suffering, hard work, and Lady Luck herself before you can fix something. I mean, look at this bracelet. Its lovely gold with silver inlay, various stones set in charms along its length. But half the stone settings are broken, some of the stones are cracked and fractured beyond any value. Much of the silver is tarnished. I mean, if I tried to sell this to someone right now, I wouldn't get two coppers for it."
A man wearing finery not usually associated with this bar hops into the fray of angry and confused boisterous voices. He begins to smile and open his act for the coming trouble, trying to bring humor and diffuse the situation.
"The smart money's not on the loud ones, that's fer sure, friend. Now, we can play nicely, or we can play mean. I think we all would like to avoid the Hellknights, heck, tyranny is best avoided if you can help it. Then again, I do recognize where we are." He shoots a smile at the bartender and eyes the old, grease stained and poorly maintained pistol.
Walking around the room, he begins to smile, seeing many like-minded souls, but, sadly, he cannot resist a joke as he walks around.
"And I believe your tender behind wouldn't last a day in either a Hellknight's or the royal prisons... then again, neither would mine!" He says as he sizes up Galen non threateningly, as most directors do when they decline to give Tervon the part...
He feigns an injury to his backside and limps to the bar, next to Galen and Mikhal.
Smiling, and looking back and forth between the two and back towards Lucina. "So, where do I sign up?"
Tervon Valsienne, AKA Tervon DuJoncleur
Human Rogue 1, Neutral Good
HP 8
Fort +0
Ref +5 (+2 Class, +2 Dex, +1 trait)
Will +0
Str: 14
Dex: 15
Con: 10
Int: 14
Wis: 11
Cha: 14 (+2 bonus applied here)
Traits:
Child of Infamy +1 Perform (Act) and it's always a class skill +300 GP at beginning of adventure path
Deft Dodger +1 reflex saves.
Skills: 12 ranks
Acrobatics (Dex) +6 ( 1 rank +2 Dex, +3 class skill)
Bluff (Cha) +6 ( 1 rank +2 Cha, +3 class skill)
Diplomacy (Cha) +6 ( 1 rank +2 Cha, +3 class skill)
Disable Device (Dex) +6 ( 1 rank +2 Dex, +3 class skill)
Escape Artist (Dex)+6 ( 1 rank +2 Dex, +3 class skill)
Intimidate (Cha) +6 ( 1 rank +2 Cha, +3 class skill)
Knowledge (local) (Int) +6 ( 1 rank +2 Int, +3 class skill)
Perception (Wis) +4 (1 rank, 3 class skill)
Perform (Act) (Cha) +7 ( 1 rank +2 Cha, +1 Trait, +3 class skill)
Sense Motive (Wis) +4 (1 rank, +3 class skill)
Sleight of Hand (Dex) +6 ( 1 rank +2 Dex, +3 class skill)
Stealth (Dex) +6 ( 1 rank +2 Dex, +3 class skill)
Feats:
1: Improved Unarmed Strike
H: Belier's Bite (Cheliax, Empire of Devils)
Class Features:
Sneak Attack +1d6
Trapfinding
Gear: TBA 140 gp +300 GP from the trait to spend
Light load 58
Medium Load 116
Heavy Load 175
Currently carries: x pounds (dependent on apartment or not)
Unarmed Strike 1d3 x2 b
3 daggers 1d4, 19-20x2 1ea/3tot
Shortsword 1d6, 19-20 x2 2lbs
Sling 1d4 x2 10 sling bullets (5 lbs)
Masterwork Studded Leather Armor +3AC +5 max dex, 0 armor check 25 pounds.
Masterwork Backpack, 4 pounds (+1str for carrying capacity when worn)
2 pounds of marbles in the belt pouch
Bedroll 5 pounds
Belt Pouch .5 pounds
2 sunrods (2 pounds, not carried regularly)
Masterwork thieve's tools 2lbs
Courtier's outfit + 50gp jewelry (bracelet, necklace and signet ring) (6lbs)
Peasant's outfit (2lbs)
Traveler's outfit (5 lbs)
10gp 6 sp
(if using cost of living, the final ten gold will go towards a small apartment he can use to store a great deal of his gear when he doesn't need it to keep his load at a light load, leaving 6sp before his next "pay day")
Stanley just eyes all the commotion, quietly enjoying his meal. It would be more enjoyable without all the ruckus, which has even made poor Vesnik a little skittish, but he'd rather not get drawn into the conversation. He has lived here all his life, and it wouldn't be the first call to rise up against the tyrannical authority, and likely won't be the last. The problem remains in the fact that the squeaky wheels do not get the grease in Westcrown, instead they get the rack or the gallows.
It's not that the loud man doesn't have the right of it, but you just can't rush headlong into the devils' claws. Those in power cannot be faced head on, their true power lies in those over which they hold sway. The key is to empower the people, make them want a change in government, rile them up into a swarm of biting and stinging masses. "Then the people shall be as ants overpowering the mighty wasp." He starts at the sound of his own voice aloud, and nervously stares back down at his plate. His eyes dart around intently, hoping to see any signs of the informants that share their words with the Hellknights, hoping to buy favor with them.
He nods as the young woman scolds the blathering fool. He remembers the Marconi family, he and Vesnik had helped guide Anton's ailing mother to the Grey.
Man, I spent a while just now coming up with a cleric of Milani only to see that there's already one in he mix...well, perhaps if I still feel good about her I'll throw her in for the backstory anyway tomorrow. She's a somewhat different build (using the crusader archetype), and I like her story. She's the older sister of one of my current characters in a RotRL game, which I like the idea of.
To sum up: dotting, hopefully submitting tomorrow.
Enera's elven ears do not miss Stanley's words from a neighboring table. She also sits alone, with three containers in front of her. There's a mug of the bartender's finest, but also a mismatched pair of beakers containing a runny red substance. She idly pours the alchemical formula from one beaker to the other and back again.
The elven lady gives Stanley a curious look. "Ants and wasps fight often, you know," she says, in a tone of detached, academic interest. "I've read studies. In Barrowood, the bugs often compete over the same food sources. The ants fight by swarming, of course, and some varieties can spray a mild acid.
"Do you know what the wasps do to the ants?" Enera puts the beakers down. "The wasp picks up the ant, flies it half a mile away, and lets it fall, never to be seen by its fellow ants again."
Never one to speak up too loudly, she lowers her voice even more. "Sound familiar? You might not talk about it, but chances are you know people who've gone missing. Just disappeared, as though they'd never existed. Gone... like ants." She nods, knowingly. "We've all had our troubles with the political climate around here. But there's more than just dottari and hellknights to be afraid of. I think we should acknowledge it."
Enera turns to look around at the assembled dissidents, and idly starts mixing her alchemical solution again. Accidentally, she pours some of the runny red into her ale. A big puff of black smoke erupts from the mug. "Oops!" she coughs, trying to clear the air above her table.
Am I too late to this party?
It's just like Leeka to slip in unnoticed in the back of a group, though this is the first time she's ever entered such an establishment. She grimaces to herself at all the filth, stench, and noise. At the conversation, she freezes as she eavesdrops on the potential dissidents.
"Their masters will have them flogged and executed," she mumbles defiantly to herself, even as she strains her ears to hear more ideas of her possible salvation.
"I've seen plenty of wasps and ants out in the wilds. Never seen an wasp do that. Your books are wrong." A grizzled half elf snorts, as he works at peeling an apple with a knife. A large black dog with brown feet slumbers at his feet. "Nah. What you need is a dragonfly. Fast critter. Can't pin it down and it eats wasps for three meals a day."
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Bran walks into the bar, bloodstains on his hands and dirt on his brow.
"Barkeep, where might I find a wash basin? I just came from a hunt and I'm in need of strong drink and a good meal."
He takes a seat at the bar.
Bran Grindle
Human (Varisian) Barbarian (Drunken Brute) 1
CG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +2; Senses Perception +5
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Defense
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AC 14, touch 11, flat-footed 13 (+2 armor, +1 shield, +1 Dex)
hp 15 (1d12+3)
Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +1; +2 circumstance bonus vs. effects that require hearing, +2 Trait bonus vs. mind-affecting effects for 1 hour after drinking alcohol
Resist fortified drinker
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee greataxe +4 (1d12+7/×3)
Special Attacks rage (18 rounds/day)
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Statistics
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Str 18, Dex 12, Con 15, Int 8, Wis 12, Cha 8
Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 16
Feats Extra Rage, Extra Rage
Traits fortified drinker, westcrown firebrand
Skills Climb +7, Intimidate +3, Perception +5 (+0 to hearing checks), Survival +5 (+7 to avoid becoming lost when using Compass)
Languages Common, Varisian
SQ raging drunk, tireless rage
Combat Gear potion of enlarge person, meditation tea; Other Gear leather armor, buckler, greataxe, applejack (per gallon), backpack, belt pouch, blanket, winter, compass, crowbar, earplugs, flask, flint and steel, flotation device, marbles, marbles, marbles, marbles, mug/tankard, pot, rope, sack, silver key, soap, torch (10), trail rations (5), waterskin, whetstone, 51 gp
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Special Abilities
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Compass +2 circumstance for Survival or Knowledge (Dungeoneering) to avoid becoming lost.
Earplugs +2 save vs. hearing effects, -5 hearing-based Perception.
Fortified Drinker +2 save vs. mind-affecting for 1 hr after drinking alchohol.
Rage (18 rounds/day) (Ex) +4 Str, +4 Con, +2 to Will saves, -2 to AC when enraged.
Raging Drunk (Ex) Move action: consume alchohol - this round does not count against rounds of rage/day.
Westcrown Firebrand +1 Initiative, +1 attack rolls during a surprise round.
In his madness, he had a transformation of sorts. He became barbaric and unrefined, losing much of his upbringing. It was in the wilds of Varisia that he also learned of his Giant-blooded lineage. As he matured, the Giant featured manifested and became obvious. Bran does not know what type of Giant blood is running through his veins, but he has embraced it nonetheless.
Bran returned to Westcrown by happenstance. He was attacked one day while sleeping, by a thief trying to steal what little he had. He followed the thief, but lost him once he reached Westcrown. It was then that his past came rushing to the forefront of his mind. He decided to find work there and try to find someone, anyone he may know from so many years ago.
(Question 1) Bran has lived in Westcrown for 3 years now. After reuniting with some of his family, although awkward at first due to his new look and barbarian lifestyle, he got a job working under the tutelage of a local huntsman. (Question 2) He is now a hunter and supplier for a local butcher in Westcrown, although the memory of the slaughter of his parents still haunts him. He can see the face of the thief as clear as the day he watched him kill his parents. If he would happen to see him again, woe to anyone that would get in the way of his revenge.
Here's my application!
Cyprian Farstriker
Male Human (Chelaxian) Ranger 1
LN Medium humanoid (human)
Init +4; Senses Perception +4
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Defense
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AC 17, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+3 armor, +4 Dex)
hp 10 (1d10)
Fort +2, Ref +6, Will +1; +1 vs. devil's mind-affecting
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee cutlass +4 (1d6+3/18-20)
Ranged longbow +5 (1d8/×3)
Special Attacks favored enemy (humans +2)
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Statistics
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Str 17, Dex 18, Con 10, Int 9, Wis 10, Cha 8
Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 18
Feats Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot
Traits diabolist raised, indomitable faith
Skills Handle Animal +3, Knowledge (nature) +3, Linguistics +0, Perception +4, Sense Motive +1, Stealth +7, Survival +4 (+5 to track)
Languages Common, Infernal
SQ hero points, track, wild empathy +0
Other Gear studded leather, arrows (40), cutlass, longbow, dungeoneering kit, 18 gp
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Special Abilities
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Diabolist Raised +1 Bluff, Diplomacy, Intimidate, Sense Motive vs. Westcrown's nobility. +1 save. vs. mind-affecting spells from devils.
Favored Enemy (Humans +2) (Ex) +2 to rolls vs Favored Enemy (Humans).
Hero Points (1) Hero Points can be spent at any time to grant a variety of bonuses.
Point-Blank Shot +1 to attack and damage rolls with ranged weapons at up to 30 feet.
Precise Shot You don't get -4 to hit when shooting or throwing into melee.
Track +1 Add the listed bonus to survival checks made to track.
Wild Empathy +0 (Ex) Improve the attitude of an animal, as if using Diplomacy.
Cyprian's Story:
Cyprian has lived in Westcrown his entire life. His parents were local shipping logistics merchants who perished in a tragic, ignoble, and utterly accidental fire. Such is life.
All his life he's lived within the grip of devil-possessed Cheliax. He cares little for the religion of his country, but that is the way of life in the most magnificent empire in the world, and who is he to question the faith of the empire’s rulers? Certainly not a fool like some of the more idealistic acquaintances, possessed of bizarre ideals about personal freedoms and egalitarian rulership—who can say whatever happened to them? He knows of Hell and the rigidity of its grim rulers, he's seen devils and how they might be employed to the betterment of those with the might to control them, and he knows of the dark faith of his country. He's not a devil worshiper, but there are realities to living in Cheliax, and it’s always good to know what’s really going on behind the scenes.
He currently sells his "sword," er, his bow. His parent's business burned down and took with it all the family's wealth. Such is life.
He's 25 years old now, and the heavy pall of devilry is beginning to get to him. He liked the old days when the House of Thrune wasn't around. He didn't trust that b&#@~ Abrogail one coppper bit.
Cyprian has no need of devil-worship, the House of Thrune, or gods at all for that matter. All have failed him in this life. Why pay them any heed, especially when his bow and sword have never failed him.
Such is life.
A stocky, dark-skinned young woman walks into the bar, clad in a sensible homespun dress and a colorful Varisian scarf. Her eyes scan the room quickly as she makes her way to a table in the corner. I wonder if there are any here that believe as I do...who would see the devils overthrown, and this city returned to what it could be. Come, Everbloom--help me pierce the darkness! Almost unconsciously, her right hand comes up to touch the red, wrought-iron rose pendant that hangs at her neck, as her vision clouds slightly and she starts to peer around the room.
Iolana Banderosi
Human (Varisian) Cleric (Crusader) 1
Favored class: Cleric
CG Medium Humanoid (Human)
Init +1; Senses Perception +3
XP: 0
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Defense
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AC 17, touch 10, flat-footed 17 (0 Dex, +5 armor, +2 shield)
HP 9
Fort +3, Ref 0, Will +5
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Offense
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Speed 20'
Melee Morningstar +3 (1d8+2/x2)
Ranged Heavy Crossbow +0 (1d10/19-20/x2/120')
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Statistics
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Str 14 Dex 10 Con 13 Int 12 Wis 16 Cha 14
Base Attack +0; CMB +2; CMD 12
Feats Weapons focus (morningstar), Intimidating Prowess, Selective Channeling
Traits Westcrown Firebrand, Civilized
Trained Skills Perform (dance) +3, Knowledge (religion) +5, Knowledge (nobility) +6, Diplomacy +6, Profession (baker) +7; untrained but boosted, Intimidate +4
Languages Common [English], Varisian [Romanian], Infernal [Russian]
Gear Scale mail, heavy wooden shield, morningstar, heavy crossbow, simple holy text, iron holy symbol: a rose pendant, emphasis on the thorns, 20 crossbow bolts, pocketed scarf
Cash Flat broke, at the moment
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Special Abilities
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RACE
Extra Feat
Bonus Skills
TRAIT
Westcrown Firebrand: Ever since that fateful day five years ago, Iolana has been scheming for a way to bring down her enemies, the Damned House of Kozak, and, more broadly, all of modern Chelish culture. She's always ready to spring into action, giving her a +1 bonus on initiative and a +1 bonus to any attack rolls she makes in a surprise round.
Civilized: Though she's new to Westcrown, Iolana has made a study of Chelish nobility, seeking to better know her enemy; she gains a +1 bonus to Knowledge (nobility) and Knowledge (Local) checks, and Knowledge (Local) is always a class skill for her.
CLASS
Aura: Chaotic Good
Prayers and Orisons: Each day, Iolana can cast 2 orisons, 1 1st-level spell, and 1 domain spell.
Channel Positive Energy: 1d6, DC 12 5 times per day, Iolana can channel positive energy to heal living creatures or harm undead ones within 30 feet.
Domain: Revolution (sub-domain of Liberation) Iolana's devotion to Milani's revolutionary ideals grants her the associated spells and abilities.
Liberation: Iolana has the ability to ignore impediments to her mobility. For a number of rounds per day equal to her cleric level (1), she can move normally regardless of magical effects that impede movement, as if she were affected by freedom of movement. This effect occurs automatically as soon as it applies. These rounds do not need to be consecutive.
Spontaneous Casting: Iolana can call on Milani's grace at any time to heal herself or her friends, sacrificing a prepared spell to cast cure spells of the same level or lower.
Bonus feat: As a crusader, Iolana gains bonus feats drawn from a specific list.
FEAT
Weapon Focus (Morningstar): Iolana is a devoted warrior, and gains a +1 feat bonus on all attacks made with her morningstar.
Intimidating Prowess: Iolana is a powerful woman, and adds her STR modifier to Intimidate checks as well as her CHA.
Selective Channeling: Iolana's healing talents wouldn't be much good if they healed her enemies; when she channels energy, she can choose a number of creatures in the burst equal to her CHA modifier (2) to not affect with her energy.
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PREPARED SPELLS
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Orisons (DC 13, 2/day):
Enhanced Diplomacy [ ]
Purify Food and Drink [ ]
1st-Level (DC 14, 1 [and one domain]/day)
Detect the Faithful [ ]
[Remove Fear] [ ]
Iolana Banderosi grew up in Egorian, with her parents and siblings (she was the fifth of six children), as Varisian slaves to the minor but brutal Damned House of Olo. Though their lives were hard, they managed to make it up to Iolana's 21st year before any true tragedy struck; perhaps this was why, when it did strike, it did so with incredible and horrifying force.
The night of her younger brother's nineteenth birthday, the House of Olo fell to an attack they had provoked in an ill-calculated bluff against the competing House Kozak. The dragoons spared nothing and no one; all fell before the onslaught, and the manor was set on fire. Of their family, only Iolana and her younger brother Tiberiu survived, clambering into the chimney of the main hall. They nearly cooked alive, but the fire died down soon enough that they were able to emerge into the skeletal, smoldering wreckage without permanent damage.
For three years she and Tiberiu wandered the world, heading north, out of Cheliax, and making a living as traveling kapenia dancers (a family tradition they had learned, in secret, from their mother, while still enslaved). Iolana could never shake a longing to return to Cheliax, though--in her heart she seethed at the idea that the status quo could continue, unabated, in the Empire of Devils, and when she met some clerics of Milani in southern Varisia, her passion found religious outlet. She broke with her brother--who was quite content to live as a traveling performer, and adamantly refused to head back to Cheliax--and swore to devote herself to Milani and the end of diabolism.
The clerics she had met brought her to a small commune devoted to the worship of Milani not far from Abken, in Varisia, and there Iolana stayed for most of the past two years, learning the Milanite faith and growing into a full member of society. It was an eclectic group, many outcasts--there was even an ogrekin who had been abandoned at birth named Sol, a gentle soul who had been brought up by an old woman there before she died. Iolana was happy (and even found love for the first time in her life), but she longed to do more.
When she learned that there was a small cult of diabolists in Abken, then, she felt that she couldn't rest--she had to do something to eliminate this evil, even if the commune's elders were too lax to care. What she did still gives her mixed feelings today: she tricked Sol into attacking what she understood to be the heart of the cult, and late one night the ogrekin rampaged into town. He was supposed to get in and out quickly, but of course there were complications--the guard arrived faster than expected, there were more people around than anticipated--and the end result was that Sol was slain, and so were a large number of Abken's citizens, many of them innocents. For her zealotry, Iolana was banished from her tiny commune and, still feeling that her fervor was right even if her actions were wrong, she has made her way south, traveling into Korvosa and thence by sea to Westcrown.
Iolana's been in Westcrown a scarce three months, and already itches to find some way to incite the people to topple the oppressive regime that keeps them in check. She uses spells like cultural adaptation to help pass herself off as a native whenever there are crackdowns, and has been making a living as an under-chef in a bakery (a skill she picked up at the commune). Now, though, she's starting to itch for something more...
Sitting at the bar, a kobold turns around, looking at everyone present and listening to the conversation. "Are we talking about bugs, or are we talking about this city and it's residents." Eying the dirty and bloodied human hunter with a yellow slitted eye, he reaches to his side, tossing him a small waterskin. "Clean up and then come back in. We need some model of civility in this city..."
Sinder peered about, eying the quiet halfing hugging the far wall near the door and looking back around again. "...this city has been dead for years now. So if death scares you now, you should probably find a new place to drink. There are worse things then death here."
This is Elanor Burrows.
Her parents were slaves in the Ici household, yet her father was still a Bellflower Tiller. He was eventually caught, tortured and his wife's spirit was broken at the same time. She was then used as a trap to capture another Bellflower farm where thirty halflings were killed.
Elanor is currently in Dusk Market going through the burnt wreckage of the farm trying to find a bone which belonged to her mother so she can have a speak w/dead done to find out if this is really true. Frustrated, for their is no real way to tell one person's bones from another, she has taken to hunting Chelaxian nobles and killing them. The Dusk Market Slasher is becoming well known in the city and she has almost gathered the courage to take her depredations to the other side of the river.
I'm not sure what alignment you would call this. I've called it neutral because I don't think she's really making rational decisions. She is killing people in cold blood, but then, the people she's killing are devil worshipers, slave owners and worse. The national army of Andor does this every day and people call them Chaotic Good. Elanor just doesn't give them a chance to fight back.
I have made Elanor a Ranger but I'm not as married to the class as I am to the character. She came extremely close to being a magus or a spellslinger and could go that direction if the party is missing a specific class. My main goal is to have her a stealth based striker in keeping with the slasher motif.
3.5 DnD allowed you to have groups and organizations for favored enemies rather than races and I'd love to do something similar. I'd like to change her favored enemy to "Westcrown Officials". This would include local nobles, their soldiers/guards and the police. It would not include anyone outside local government such as the local populace or the Hellknights.
I plan to play Elanor as vindictive and revenge driven. I think she will fit in fine with most groups and is able to look far enough long term for delayed gratification (i.e. play the game now to get more revenge later). I do not plan to play her as a frothing at the mouth barbarian. She is far more than a simple freedom fighter with a cause and much closer to a Jewish Nazi hunter, but then, there is historical precedent for people like her.
I'm going to have to pass on the tavern RP unfortunately. Elanor does not spend time in taverns and does not readily chit chat. I wish everyone else the best however, so have a great time. 8)
I think Leeka's answers can be found in her backstory, but just to highlight them...
How long has your character lived in Westcrown?
Born and raised. I figure she's about 25. She was born to slaves and has been a house slave ever since she was old enough to be sold.
What is your day job in Westcrown? (Your character needs to have a job - in between the "adventuring" you will live your life.)
She is the Housekeeper if her mistress' Westcrown townhouse. Her mistress is completely helpless and bed-ridden, so Leeka has free reign, though she lives under constant fear of being caught. Servitude has been bred into her, so it hasn't occurred to her to simply slit the old hag's throat, the same for why she hasn't run away.
Why does your character harbor resentment or frustration against the government?
Despite her well-bred sense of servitude, Leeka hates her life of slavery. She worship's Asmodeus because that's all she's ever known, and would instantly switch her allegiance to whichever good god got to her first. She was initially attracted to political dissidents because in their grand scheme of overthrowing the oppressive diabolical nobility, Leeka can see freedom from her single oppressor.
Stanley shakes his head nervously as his hastily voiced words find respondents, and then discussion. "What? No sorry, I must have spoken out of turn. I was merely bemoaning an insect problem at my home. I was not looking for conversation. Please excuse me." With that he looks back down into his meal eager to finish before things get worse and he is counted amongst the dissidents.
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Sitting at the bar, a kobold turns around, looking at everyone present and listening to the conversation. "Are we talking about bugs, or are we talking about this city and it's residents." Eying the dirty and bloodied human hunter with a yellow slitted eye, he reaches to his side, tossing him a small waterskin. "Clean up and then come back in. We need some model of civility in this city..."
Sinder peered about, eying the quiet halfing hugging the far wall near the door and looking back around again. "...this city has been dead for years now. So if death scares you now, you should probably find a new place to drink. There are worse things then death here."
Bran catches the waterskin, smiles and nods to the red-scaled Kobold at the bar and promptly walks outside to clean up. He makes use of the new bar of soap he bought the day before. Making sure the waterskin isn't dirty or bloodied, Bran appears once again through the tavern doorway and sits next to the generous creature.
"Thanks for the water. The butcher I supply to next door has the unfortunate problem that his well has run dry. I was not able to wash up there."
Bran retrieves his tankard from his backpack and motions to the barkeep.
"Give me your strongest! After the hunt today, I need to unwind. Nearly got ourselves killed out there today. That apprentice attracted a pack of dire wolves with all that carrying on. If it hadn't been for my axe, Westcrown would have been burying the both of us."
He then turns to the crimson Kobold, tossing the now empty waterskin onto the bar next to him.
"I'm Bran Grindle. What's your name, friend?"
Kyras rolls his eyes at the Iomedaean's bluster. I hadn't realized the turnip truck was making deliveries this late. Such sloppy handiwork if he's bait for the devil worshippers. On the other hand, maybe he just can't handle his wine.
Watching the exchange between the Kobold and the ranger, and realizing that these two have been nice towards each other unexpectedly, although the party is just getting warmed up.
After finishing his drink, he wanders around and sees a little slip out and about. Kneeling down to her eye level to be polite, he extends his hand outwards.
"And what errand would you be on, little slip?" He smiles genuinely.
Leeka looks the human over with what be called 'concern' on her face. She pauses a moment to consider before accepting the man's hand and replying, "Errand? No errand but to quench a thirst. I have a thirst to try a new drink, one I can choose myself. The drink I've had before is ...losing some of its flavour. Are there any good drinks to be found here?"
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After his rousing cry stirred no souls to his banner, Galen looks around a little confused. Then quietly puts his blade away and slinks back to his root beer, nursing it in silence while casting his eyes about.
"Blasted bunch of sneak-theives and scoundrels. None with the courage of their convictions. All pay lip service to the overthrow of Thrune, but none will stand and fight for it. They speak of secrecy and quiet insurrection, when everyone knows the only way to deal with a problem is head on." he says out loud, but softly and too himself.
He shakes his head, wondering where he is ever going to find an army to lead, if not here.
Sinder grabs the empty waterskin and attaches it back to his belt (which was little more than a hempen rope). He reached up to the bar counter and grabbed his cup, before dipping his serpentine tongue into it and lapping water up. "Sinder Redscales. I've been in Westcrown for... I don't know exactly. Only my mother would know... but thanks to Westcrown's 'finest' I can't ask her anymore."
After his rousing cry stirred no souls to his banner, Galen looks around a little confused. Then quietly puts his blade away and slinks back to his root beer, nursing it in silence while casting his eyes about.
"Blasted bunch of sneak-theives and scoundrels. None with the courage of their convictions. All pay lip service to the overthrow of Thrune, but none will stand and fight for it. They speak of secrecy and quiet insurrection, when everyone knows the only way to deal with a problem is head on." he says out loud, but softly and too himself.
He shakes his head, wondering where he is ever going to find an army to lead, if not here.
Mikhal sidles up next to the paladin with a rather curious smile as he continues to work on the bracelet.
"Tell me something good sir Paladin..., what good are you to a cause if you are dragged into a holding cell and never heard from again? No man or woman..." he quickly flashes a smile and a wink to Lucina, "...here has any less conviction than you do good sir. What we have, that you seem to lack, is just like what Pa used to tell me. The good sense to know when to talk, and when to keep your mouth shut. A careless word or action in this town gets you vanished. You stand up on a soapbox and start spouting that, the only thing you are going to do is drive away the people that are capable of helping you, and drawing out the fools without the sense to stand back. You had better thank Desna's stars that you have others willing to at least give you a chance to wise up."
Sinder perks his little finned ears up at the paladin and his compatriot as they spoke, hopping off his stool and walking over to Mikhal, folding his arms and looking up at him.
"My master says similar things. That it's better to stay quiet and endure. I understand the logic... but I cannot sit by and allow these tragedies to continue." Sinder looked up at Galen, sitting his fists on his waists and pointing up at knight. "You! Paladin! Are you serious about setting things right here in Westcrown again?"
Once served a small glass of some kind of dark-coloured liquor on the rocks, Lucina slowly savours the hard alcohol, listening in quietude to the mix of comforting chatter filling the tavern. However, yet again the idiot of a paladin dares to insult the intelligence and worth of everyone in the room. The young woman sighs in disgust, carefully setting her glass down and setting Galen with an even stare.
"Look, I don't care if you want to get yourself killed--I'll warn you against it, but if you want to walk around shouting the way you are then that's your prerogative. But calling me a thief? A coward? Yeah... no. I'm not gonna stand for that."
"The halfling there said it much nicer than I would've. In fact," she scowls darkly, "if not for respecting the wishes of the good ol' barkeep up there, I would normally have simply walked up and decked you over the head for the insult!"
"If it was so easy to just solve all problems head on," Lucina adds with a roll of her eyes (they're getting quite the workout with this guy around), "life around here'd already be a lot better than it is."
Lucina eyes up the kobold, having not noticed it until now. Her hand instinctively goes to her sword-hilt, but hesitates, seeing that the thing seemed civilised. "Keeping things on the down-low does not mean sitting by doing nothing," she says after a time. "It just means holding your cards with a good poker face until the best moment to play them."
"Are we certain these are the chosen?" an attractive young woman says, staring down intently at a parchment covered in lists of names, slashes and arrows. "Perhaps we should..."
"Stop, now," the man says quietly, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "These are the chosen. The others are worthy, but we haven't the room for them at this time. Our need for discretion outweighs our need for numbers. For now."
"I know you're right," she responds. "That makes the choosing no easier. I hope that those we've selected answer the call. But should one or more not respond, it is good to know we have those who can step in and take their place."
She lifts her quill and grabs a nearby pile of parchment. She begins scrawling short notes, folding them in half when finished, and places them in small envelopes. After sealing each with her wax and seal, she writes a name on the outside.
A short while later she stands up straight and says, "They are finished, Arael. I will have them delivered in the morning."
"Excellent, Janiven. Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some affairs to attend to. I'll see you tomorrow night at Vizio's. The Inheritor keep you, friend," the man says, grabbing his cloak and throwing it over his shoulders. He turns and leaves the room, looking back once with a smile and nod. "These five will change the tide, Janiven. Have faith." He pulls the door shut.
"I do, friend. I do," she answers quietly. Looking down at the pile of envelopes, she picks them up individually, reading the names aloud.
"Lucina Tilernos. Stanley Sydell. Tervon Valsienne. Enera. Leeka Fullbottle. Iolana Banderosi." Nodding silently, she grabs her own cloak, stows the envelopes in a hidden pocket, and heads back to Vizio's.
Those selected, please head to The Discussion Thread to check in.
Glad to have been chosen and I'm glad to see so many quality applicants! I do hope everyone gets into a CoT game :)
I've gotta say, despite not being chosen, that was an excellent way to announce the accepted players.
Hi All! GM Darkmeer here looking to rerecruit for the game. Reposting the very first post now, so that I can make this simpler. The Free Citizens of Westcrown need a pair of characters!
I will take two, possibly three players. I'm looking for meatshi-err warrior types and "roguish" types, such as bards and rogues. I'm also looking for those not happy with the status quo in Westcrown.
How to Apply
1. Download the CoT Player's Guide
2. Create a Character using the following guidelines:
2nd Level Characters
All Paizo-created classes are allowed. We'll be playing with emerging guns (I think).
Max HP at level one, roll or average+1 thereafter
Paizo-created archetypes allowed, and may be stacked, if not replacing identical abilities
Core races preferred, but featured races from the Advanced Race Guide will be considered if the background is strong enough.
Non-evil alignments and no CN unless a VERY compelling case can be made.
20-point buy - Nothing higher than 18 before racial bonuses, and preferably nothing lower than 8 after racial bonuses.
Two traits - one should be a campaign trait. If the flavor of a trait isn't perfect for your character, I'm fine with tweaking the fluff.
Average gold for your class, plus 50 gp in 'other goods.'
3. Come up with your character's story using the following questions as a guide. I don't want to applicants to feel like they have to flesh out a complete backstory - in my brief perusal of the boards, I've seen how many applicants there can be for a game, and making players write a novel for applications seems harsh. If you have a character you've already created, that's awesome. Just please answer these questions in addition to what you've already written - even if the answers contradict what's currently in your stat block. In-character responses will earn you bonus points.
How long has your character lived in Westcrown?
What is your day job in Westcrown? (Your character needs to have a job - in between the "adventuring" you will live your life.)
Why does your character harbor resentment or frustration against the government?
When did Arael and Janiven recruit you?
I will post again, tomorrow, with a brief introduction from Arael and Janiven tomorrow, in-character, with a final post before the weekend on Friday. I plan on completing the recruiting no later than Wednesday next week, so that all chosen can partake in the adventure path.
Please feel free to read the campaign information page, as well as note the following characters
Lucina: Paladin (of Cayden), a rather quiet type
Iolana: Cleric of Milani, a rather militant type
Stanley: "Hedge Wizard" (Human Witch) who is very clean and helps others.
Leeka: Halfling Slip, monk.
Thinking a straight up Dwarf fighter.Low ranking Dottari who is getting fed up with the stranglehold of 'Law'
Okay here we go. Stuffs in spoiler]
Full Name : Colgrin Barrelhouse
Race: Dwarf
Classes/Levels Fighter 2(HP favored)
Gender M
Size M
Alignment: CG
Deity : Ale!
Location :Westcrown
Languages Common,Dwarf
Occupation : Dottari
Strength 14 (+2)
Dexterity 14 (+2)
Constitution 16 (+3)
Intelligence 10
Wisdom 16 (+3)
Charisma 8 (-1)
Height: 5' Weight: Hair: Brown Eyes: Brown
Favored Class: Fighter(hp)
EXP:
Hit Points: 24
Spd: 20
Init: +6
AC: 19( + 5armor +2 shield)/Touch 12/FF 17)
BAB: +2
CMB: +4
CMD: 16(20vs Bull rush/trip on ground)
Saves: Fort +6(+8 vs poison/spells/spell abilities) Ref +2(+4 vs poison/spells/spell abilities) Will +3(+5 vs poison/spells/spell abilities)(+4/+6 vs. fear)
Weapons:
Dwarven waraxe +5 1d10+2 x3
Dagger +4 1d4+2 19-20/x2
Short bow +4 1d6 x3 60 feet
Skills:Perception(2+3+3+1)9,Climb(1+2+3)6,Know-Local(1)1,
Feats: weapon focus-Dwarf waraxe,Improved Init,Power attack (-1/+2),
Traits Conspiracy Hunter (+1 Perception, Perception is a class skill),Rythless (+1 to confirm critical hits)
Special Abilities:
+2Con +2 Wis -2 Cha
Speed is not modified by armor or encumbrance
Darkvision 60 feet
+4 dodge Ac against creatures with giant subtype
+2 appraise to determine price of nonmagical goods that contain precious metal/gemstones
+1 attack orc and goblin subtypes
+2 saves against poison/spells/spell-like abilities
+4 CMD to resist bull rush/trip on ground
+2 Perception to detect unusal stonework(doors/traps)recieve check when passing within 10 feet
Proficient with battleaxe,heavy pick, warhammer. Dwarf weapons are treated as martial weapons
Equipment
Dwarven warxe(30)
Scale Mail (50)
Heavy wooden shield (7)
Shortbow (30 gp)
20 arrows (2)
Fighter's Kit (9)
backpack
bedroll
belt pouch
flint and steel
iron pot
mess kit
rope
soap
torches (10)
trail rations (5 days)
waterskin
46 gp
Background:Colgrin has lived in Westcrown his enter life. A ciry dwarf through and through, he has only a vague idea about what life is like insideof a mountain and instead treats the alleyways, seweers and houses of Westcrown as his homeland. Colgrin has attempted his hand at smithing from his uncle Grumm Sharpest, but failed miserably and instead took up with the Dottari, patroling the streets to help keep thieves and shadow monsters from harming the populance. However, he has gotten more and more frusterated at the shameful state of Westcrown . Thrune is bad enough, but crime continues unbated and the city crumbles while corruption in a 'lawful' society mocks justice. Colgrin is seriosly considering quitting being a Dottari since he is becoming more and more just a powerless holder of a lump of tin on his chest. After a drunken bender at a tavern, he found a note slipped into his pocket but hadn't the time to track down his mysterious contact until now...
Interesting... I'd love a chance to play this homebrew Rogue for a duelist Rogue. If that's not possible, I'd enjoy playing an archer Bard.
I would like to submit Byron Radanavich, a NG Half Elf Rogue(Thug) (a former street thug, now moonlighting as an opera-house bouncer) for consideration :-)
A more thorough back story (and potential plot points, involving locations and NPCs) is available on his character profile, but to answer (briefly) the recruitment questions:
Submitting Advocatus minorus Barnabas Starson.
Working day and night to lessen the burden done by unfavorable contracts, Tristan is overworked and underpaid. Human investigator.
P.S. Work in progress.
I'll submit Dario Westone, a former Professor of Egorion. He's over level right now but I can easily back him down. Interestingly, he started his last CoT game around the same area.
"Most of my life. I was born here and grew up here. I went off to Egorian to study at the University and became a Professor there, though."
"Since being turned out of the University, I have become a private tutor, mostly for minor noble houses who can pay, but are willing to risk association with me to ensure their children will get into the top schools."
"They threw me out of the University, took my research, and have removed my publications! All for telling the truth of the times before the Thrunes and Asmodeus. Westcrown was a great city then! They was back to that enlightened time is through the study of history, not denying it."
"Arael got his hands on my papers while I was still researching. He and I would engage in discussions and debated whenever I came home to visit. As he became more radical, I always had a sympathetic ear. When I was removed from my position, he was there to help me get back on my feet. It was only natural I join his efforts."
I like a disgruntle Dottari, Byron fits the theater that comes out in the second adventure, and Dario fits the researcher type. Honestly, I like Barnabus as well...
Lemmy: Your "homebrew rogue" isn't available (the link goes directly to paizo.com), but homebrew is really hard for me to approve.
Now, onto Arael and Janiven.
"Arael, why are you looking through the alleys and back parts of Westcrown?" Janiven asks. [b]"Simply put, there are more unsavory rather than savory characters there."
Arael replies, "Simple, Janiven. We can find a good deal of help among the downtrodden. A few of them could even be helpful in our legal battles ahead, and proving that Westcrown isn't along the way."
They stop along the way, a Dwarvern Dottari notices them and approaches. "Nice evening, Colgrin. How goes the trade in prisoners? Have you run across C.A. recently?" The dottari walks with Janiven and Arael for a while. They turn to head into one of the alleyways that they favor, walking by an opera house.
They walk a little ways, and a gentleman is thrown out of one of one of the many opera houses, and a large half-elf smiles back, noting that he's at the end of his shift, and Byron joins the unlikely few.
Turning into the "Banished spirits" bar, both CA and Dario are in the dark bar, with the bartender smiling outwardly seeing Arael and Janiven.
"Well, we're all here. So, who wants to help the ones who rescued me half a fortnight ago?" Arael says.
Why hello there Arael, fraid the trade is rather bringing me down. Seems even a common drunk gets sent off for hard labor at Deepmar instead of just a night in the cells. Colgrim shakes his head CA? I have heard of him a little. Colgrim scratches his chin.
When they arrive at the bar, Colgrim listens to Arael's proposal.Well what exactly do you have in mind?