Way of the Wicked (Inactive)

Game Master Toodles or summat

Male Half-orc
Invunerable Rager Barbarian 1
Age: 16, Height: 6'6"
Weight: 200
NE Medium humanoid (half-ogre)
Init +8(dex +2, Improved Initiative +4, Reactionary +2); Senses Perception +3, Darkvision
Speed: 40 ft(30 base +10 Fast Movement)
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Defense
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AC 12, touch 12, flat-footed 10 (+2 Dex)
hp 15
Fort +6, Ref +2, Will -1
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Offense
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Speed 40 ft.
Melee unarmed strike +5 (1d3+4 nonlethal)
Ranged n/a
Special Attacks: Rage 7/day

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Statistics
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Str 18. Dex 14, Con 16, Int 10, Wis 8, Cha 10
Base Atk +1; CMB +7; CMD 17
Feats Intimidating Prowess, Improved Initiative
Traits: Reactionary, Bred for War, Attempted Murder
Skills: Acrobatics 1, Climb 8, Craft 0, Handle Animal 0, Intimidate 13, Knowledge 0, Perception 3, Ride 0, Survival 3, and Swim 5.
Languages: Common, Orcish
SQ: Darkvision, Intimidating Presence, Rage, Fast Movement Ogre Blood

"V"

That's his name, or label. The people who raised him claimed it was the number of men it would take to bring him down in a fight, said numerically, 5.
He never cared about the origin of his name though, nor much of anything. V is a simple man, but he has extreme aspirations. To be the greatest gladiator the world had ever seen.
Killing has been second nature to this product of illigitimate "love" ever since he could remember. Abandoned in the extreme elements as a child, his mother hoped
to save him the embarassment that would become his life by leaving him for death(in hindsight, a fairly silly conclusion to jump to).

Found crying by travelling hunters, V's immense size even as a child proved to be a curiosity substantial enough to stir the minds of the hunters that day
as to what he would grow up to become. They took the baby back to their village and cared for him, hoping for him to be the greatest hunter their humble
village could ever ask for. However, V found himself unsatisfied killing animals with a bow and arrow. The frustration of merely attempting to master the
strange instruments proved to be the powder keg that would help him find his true calling. In a rage, the child took off for the game the hunters had picked
out for him, arrow in hand, jumping on the creature and stabbing it repeatedly through the chest. While the hunters of the men rejoiced in his killing potential,
the other boys were jealous of the then called -NewBoy- and insisted on proving his size was merely show.
Regularly they would pick fights with him, only to be thrown off and beaten by the enraged half ogre.

Soon the vilage saw an oppertunity in front of them, as V was not troubled by the bullying, nay, he relished in lashing out, fighting back, and sending the
boys to a healer each time they grew a new backbone. A rudimentary pit was set up when V was but a teenager, though his size would never indicate that
to anyone, and he began taking part in pit fights with the other men of the village. With the introduction of gambling in fights, the transition to such a
barbaric practice was simple for V, but not for the village. Soon V was banished, having inspired such barbarous practices in the men of the village, and
insisting on fighting any who would dare challenge him, inside or outside of the pit.

V was not troubled, no no, he wished for more. That pit was a child's play pen to this man. Travelling the world V found himself interested in the bare knuckle brawls
he would find in the small villages, but he needed more than that. the satisfaction of slamming a fist into a man and nobody knowing if the end result was
death was good, but knowing death, was far more refreshing. Soon V found himself in cities, which would organize behind the scenes gladiatorial fights. Now
this was a challenge. Weapons evened the odds a bit. As large as he was, V could just as easily be cut as anyone else, and he enjoyed that fact immensely.
The pain was a rush, the victory was glorious, and the pay offered him more than he could ever dream of in feast, drink, and women.

Then came the day the wrong person muttered the word 'thug' under his breath at V's passing. V is a great many things. A war monger, an abomination of human and ogre,
even a killer, but a mere thug? Such a word is insulting more than to those who have never touched a weapon in their lives. Unluckily for the brutish man
however, the offending man was no mere passerby, but a noble of enough influence to surround himself with five armed guards. True to his name, it possibly took
all five to bring him downm and keep him until he was collected by the city watch. Now he awaits in a prison, his property taken, his armor, his weapons, everything gone,
with nothing but the chopping block awaiting the man who dare attempt to murder a 'man of noble blood'. This might seem like the end for our intrepid brute,
but...possibly...this is merely the beginning.

V offers few things to the party admittedly, but what he does offer is not only in substantial proportion, but invaluable to any adventurers, no matter race, creed, or profession.

The killing potential of a brute this size on anything unlucky enogh to get in his way alone renders him a brute, but his ability to take just
as much punishment as he recieves renders him naught but a juggernaut. Woe betide any who would take a good fight from his grasp, he will insist on
tanking as many enemies as he can possibly handle, and with his "Come and Get Me" rage power(which he will develop later), V can retaliate to any
vast quantity of opponents simultaneously, unless they manage to take his massive form down first. As far as something V is capable of outside of battle,
social interactions among those who stand in the way of a party are easily 'delt with' almost merely by his presence. Naturally he is intimidating to merely
stand in the same room with, but if he tries, V is capable of reducing a king with vast armies at his command to a puddle of piss. Though, for added fun,
as much of a fierce warrior as V is, he has no direction, and no capability of discerning danger, or mistrust. He is easily manipulated by even the most casual
of lies, and could be tricked into believing an innocent child is a human incarnation of Demogorgon, or that the man standing with a knife at his throat was merely
there to protect him from other dangers.

After his mother's death, Solomon spent most of his life on the streets doing what he could to survive. Most of the time this meant sticking to the shadows and stealing what he must, however from time to time he would be given the chance to act as a bouncer for various locations after impressing a barkeep with his ability to subdue those around him. Unfortunately such work had started to become less and less common as he built a reputation as a man willing to do whatever it took to protect his pride. It was this very trait that landed him in the darkest cell in Branderscar Prison.

Sir Stacy of the House Barca had decided it a bright idea to make fun of Solomon's dark heritage, but quickly learned a lesson when he found stars appearing before his eyes and felt the burning need for air in his lungs as Solomon attempted to choke the man to death. If it would not have been for the young lord's entourage, Solomon would have likely finished the deed, but instead he found himself sitting in his cell facing the axe man in three days time for having attempted to kill the son of a powerful lord.

Tiefling Brawler (Strangler)
LE Medium outsider(native)
Init +4; Senses Perception +3

Defense
AC 15, touch 14, flat-footed 11 (+4 Dex, +1 Natural Armor)
hp 11 (1d10+1)
Fort +2, Ref +6, Will -1

Offense
Speed 30 ft.
Melee unarmed strike +5 (1d3+4)
Ranged
Special Attack Strangle +1d6

Tactics
During Combat Solomon tries to sneak up on his opponent and

Statistics
Str 18, Dex 18, Con 11, Int 19, Wis 9, Cha 6
Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 19
Feats Improved Unarmed Strike
Drawback Pride
Traits Attempted Murder (Sir Stacy Barca), Bruising Intellect, Bullied
Skills Acrobatics +8, Climb +8, Escape Artist +8, Intimidate +10, Knowledge (local) +8, Perception +3, Profession (bouncer) +3, Stealth +10, Swim +8
Languages Common, Dwarven, Elven, Goblin, Infernal, Orc
SQ brawler's cunning, material flexibility (3/day), martial training
Combat Gear

Focus: Strength = 18
Dexterity = 18 (16 + 2)
Constitution = 11
Intelligence = 19 (17 + 2)
Wisdom = 9
Foil: Charisma = 6 (8 - 2)

Would it be okay to use the same dice rolls I used for Drath for this new character?

Additionally, I'm really interested in the Living Monolith prestige class, but would you be willing to let me fluff it as consorting with devils instead of with sphinxes? I'm willing to discuss specifics and such, but I really like the concept of a dwarf that fights sort of like a dwarven mountain king from Warcraft, but the chances of us stumbling upon a sphinx in this game seems reaaaaaaalllly slim.

Woodes Rodgers
Male Human Swashbuckler-1
LE Medium Humanoid
Init +4
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Defense:
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HP:13
AC:14 (FF:10 TCH:14)
Fort/Ref/Will:0/6/0
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Offense:
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Melee:N/A
Ranged:N/A
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Statistics:
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Str:12 Dex:19 Con:14 Int:12 Wis:8 Cha:18
BAB:+1
Feats: Exotic Weapon Proficiency(Bastard Sword), Slashing Grace.
Skills: Acrobatics +8| Bluff +7| Diplomacy +7| Intimidate +7| Sleight of Hand +8| Profession (sailing) +1
Special Abilities:Deeds(Derring-Do,Dodging Panache,Opportune Parry and Riposte), panache, swashbuckler finesse.
Languages:Common

Woodes Rodgers and his crew might have been legends. He found great success as a pirate and might have been the most fearsome pirate in all of Talingarde had he had another year or two. His charming smile that flashed across his face whenever he was on the deck of another captain’s ship might have been a symbol of fear to the seafaring men of Talingarde. He could have been so many things had he not been caught beheading a merchant for the coin is his pocket.

Woodes did not have a bad childhood. His parents were good to him, his friends were nice, and he and his family never struggled for money. There was always something to do around the city, but Woodes just felt… bored. He spent most of his time terrorizing the community with his band of delinquents. He tried killing animals as a boy hoping that he might feel some satisfaction from the blood on his hands, but it just felt undignified. He enjoyed killing the animals but something was missing, he didn’t realize what until he killed his first human.

It was the sheriff of the town that he grew up in, the sixteen-year-old Woodes Rodgers was trying to steal a fancy knife that a sailor had laid down on a stack of crates. The sheriff saw Woodes trying to steal the knife and chased after him. When the sheriff caught the young man, it was in an alley where there were no eyes around to see what was about to happen. The sheriff didn’t see it coming either- Woodes was a trouble maker and a petty thief, but he was no murderer. The sheriff grabbed him by the arm, and was surprised by a knife in his belly with an ”Apologies Lad!” as the only sign that he had in fact stabbed the sheriff of his own free will. The sheriff bled out on the ground as Woodes watched, he saw the light fade from from the sheriff’s eyes and felt like he had finally scratched an itch that had been there for years. Feeling so great after his first kill, he decided it was time to go. He told his mother goodbye (his father had died by then due to a heart attack) and he left the bloodstained knife back where he found it, leaving a very strong case against the sailor who owned it. He then left with a group of his most trusted friends and set off to be a pirate. It was only a few short months until he had stolen enough gold to buy a ship and a few sailors. After about a year of piracy, he found out that he and his crew had different goals. They seemed to be all about the gold and rum, but for Woodes it was more about blood and rum. Eventually the difference of opinion between his crew and him was too much for him to ignore, so he did what any man would do- sacrifice them to the devil (Asmodeous that is).

He found a cleric that was willing to buy him a new ship and a new crew for a few lives. What Woodes didn’t realize was that the city guard was watching the cleric and ran in to try and bust the trade. Realizing that he had been caught he turned around a slit the throats of his crew with one long sweep of his sword (they were all bound in their sleep and brought to the cleric lined up and on their knees). Then he stabbed the cleric in the belly with one last ”Apologies Lad” before being whisked away by his captors.
On the way to the prison, he thought about what he did to his crew. He decided that it was tasteless and not up to his usual standard. From that point on he decided that he must have two rules the he has to follow: Don’t kill your crew, and don’t kill your mother. This code would be the sole governing force that would drive him through the rest of his life.

Having grown up around a good bit of wealth, Woodes Rodgers is the epitome of class. His charming smile is always present when a man jumps in behind him, eager to follow, or when a man’s head is rolling on the ground. His key staple is the way he says ”Apologies Lad/Lass” just before he kills someone. He lives by his two rules and he has his priorities in order without a doubt in his mind: Blood, Rum, Women, and Gold in that order. His is quick witted and loves a good conversation. Don’t let his laid back personality fool you though, he knows his way around a fight and rarely comes up on the losing end.

Stifling. Not because of the musty halls and stone buildings of Erekrus, where Rekran had slaved away for years as a simple blacksmith. Not because of the hot coals he worked over every day, for long, unforgiving hours. Not because of the pressure on him to measure up to his father, a great smith who had crafted many great works for the pharaohs of Osirion. Rekran was stifled in this necropolis because there was no way to earn the fame and fortune he so desired. Though by no means poor, the sand dwarf lived like the simple craftsman he was. But he wanted more. More than just a shop and a forge to call his own, Rekran's aspirations are much larger and grander.

Still, it was a great surprise, to all that knew him, when the usually quiet dwarf one day sold the majority of his tools and signed up with a foreign merchant's guild that was headed for the far-off country of Talingarde. This was mostly just a way for Rekran to find his way into the outside world, however. Soon after they all arrived in Talingarde, the blacksmith 'mysteriously' disappeared. But in actuality, he had simply wandered off, before being taken in by a local mercenary guild.

Welcomed due to his skill at the forge, but mostly ignored due to his calm demeanor and introspective bent, Rekran found that this life was slightly better than his previous one, but not by much. Content to be working for his own gain, however, fueled the dwarf, and he produced many splendid weapons for the sellswords. But it was still not enough. So when he was offered an obscene amount of money to step foot into a new field of work: assassinations.

He received a letter from an anonymous source, and in the letter, was tasked with slaying one of his customers, from outside the mercenary guild: a diplomat of Talingarde by the name of Lykos. With the kind of money he was promised, Rekran would be able to start a new life, one significantly richer and more fulfilling than his current one. Blinded by his greed, the sand dwarf agreed to the request without much thought.

Once the diplomat's order, an ornate greatsword, was complete, Rekran broke his usual protocol, likely the first of his mistakes. He offered to deliver the weapon to Lykos by himself. Arriving at the Talinraen official's residence, Rekran was empty-handed and unarmored, save the diplomat's weapon. So, when Lykos asked to see the blade, the Osirian dwarf could only grin wickedly. He drew the blade from it's sheath, showing it to the diplomat. "I have crafted you a beautiful weapon," Rekran had told him. "It is such a shame that it'll be the last thing you ever see," he stated coldly, as he raised the weapon over his head as he moved to complete his contract.

But at that moment, a dozen armed guards burst into the room, spears, swords and axes pointed at the dwarf. He was wrestled to the floor, disarmed and bound in manacles. They had somehow found out about the dwarf's other reason to be here, and captured him before anything could be done. Furious, the dwarf growled, roared and screamed, cursing everyone and anyone. He had been set up! This was all an elaborate ruse! But alas, his words fell on deaf ears. Within hours, he was before a judge and jury of Talingarde. It was not two hours later that they leveled his judgment: for the crime of attempted murder, Rekran Underforge was to be sent to Braderscar Prison, and in three days, he was to die by beheading.

Now, Rekran rots in a prison cell, ruing his hasty decision and the lack of strength to carry it out. He has not yet given up, for surely there must be something he can do to weasel out of this fate. He just needs to think of it, and fast...

Stout and dark-skinned, Rekran is a rather plain-looking Sand Dwarf. Though his kind are exceedingly rare in Talingarde, he does not appear notably different from most of the others in the Osirian mercants' guild, save for the strange runic tattoos on his arms, and the odd birthmark on his forehead. His black hair is generally wild and unkempt, but his beard is treated with proper dwarven respect.

For all intents and purposes, though, he appears to be a normal dwarf: short, gruff and not particularly friendly.

Rekran is the quiet, introverted sort: much more well-suited to working at a forge than cavorting with others. However, the greed for money and power that have motivated him all his life have finally gotten him into a bind he may never get out of.

Rekran is amazingly self-centered. Everything he does, he does for his own benefit. If it helps others in the process, so be it, but he almost never goes out of his way to assist people if he has nothing to gain from it.

REKRAN UNDERFORGE
Male Sand Dwarf Ranger (Deep Walker) 1
LE Medium Humanoid (Dwarf)
Init +2; Senses Darkvision, Perception +6

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DEFENSE
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AC 12, touch 12, flat-footed 10. . (+2 Dex)
HP 14 (1d10+3+1)
Fort +5, Ref +4, Will +2 (+3 vs. poison, spells and spell-like abilities)

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OFFENSE
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Speed 20 ft. (No Armor)
Melee Unarmed Strike +5 (1d4+4/20/x2)
Ranged
Special Abilities favored enemy (humanoid (human) +2) (Ex), track (Ex), wild empathy (Ex)

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STATISTICS
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Str 18, Dex 15, Con 16, Int 16, Wis 15, Cha 6
Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 17 (+21 vs. bull rush/trip while on the ground)
Feats Power Attack (-1/+2)
Traits Glory of Old (+1 on saves vs. poison, spells and spell-like abilities), Attempted Murder (+2 Intimidate)
Skills Craft (weapons) 1 rank (+7), Spellcraft 1 rank (+7), Perception 1 rank (+6), Profession (blacksmith) 1 rank (+6), Stealth 1 rank (+6), Survival 1 rank (+6), Climb 0 ranks (+4), Intimidate 1 rank (+4), Knowledge (engineering) 1 rank (+4), Knowledge (history) 1 rank (+4), Knowledge (religion) 1 rank (+4), Swim 0 ranks (+4), Appraise 0 ranks (+3), Sense Motive 1 rank (+3); Knowledge (history) regarding dwarves or their enemies (+6)
Languages Common, Dwarven, Ancient Osiriani, Infernal, Giant
Combat Gear -; Other Gear - (Light encumberance)

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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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Favored Class: Ranger (HP)
Dwarf Racial Traits (Lorekeeper and Rock Stepper racial traits)
Favored Enemy (Ex)
. . Humanoid (Human) +2
Track (Ex)
Wild Empathy (Ex)

Ogren was raised by orcs on the outskirts of a forest he doesn't know the name of. His mother was the Orc's play thing for her entire bleak life, one that Ogren doesn't speak of. Ogren was the runt of the litter for the half orcs which put him on not only the bottom of the totem pole as far as the Orc's were concerned, but also the other Half-Orcs. As a resalt he received regular beatings from not only the Orcs in his tribe but also from his "brothers" as he was someone they could all take his frustrations out on. Ogren normal days were spent mostly unconsious, beaten phiysically, or eating what little scraps he could to survive. The Orcs regularly forced him into unfair fights to the death where he was forced to fight with nothing but his fists while his opponents had weapons made of glass or crudely made daggers. This caused Ogren to learn to fight not only dirty and his fists but also with his mind.

Ogren was a weird kid in the orc tribe always thinking that this chaos was not how it should be but rather there should be some sort of order in place. He was also the only child who cared for his "mother" or at least who he thought was his mother as there were too many of the play things to be sure. His mother was forced to do unspeakable things and he was often forced to watch because it amused the Orcs to see him cry. His mother in a rare moment of clarity and while alone with Ogren said she would help him escape. She instructed Ogren to grab the key off the wall unlock her and she would run out and cause a distraction he was to run North to the closest city and find a monastery to take care of him. As she kissed her son goodbye and ran into the camp letting him escape he ran North as he was instructed. Once he was on top of a hill about a mile out he turned in hopes he would see his mother. Unfortunately he did he saw her head severed and her body being used as if it were still there. Ogren ran crying vowing to get his revenge on these chaotic monsters.

Ogren found a monastery after about a week travailing on the lands. It was in a small town not found on most maps. Once he was let into the monastery and they found he could fight with his fists he was trained in the ways of the monk. However he did not do well Ogren enjoyed the structure he was not familiar with but disagreed with the way everyone acted so honest and friendly it bothered him. A combination of this and not wanting to conform to the style of fighting the monks instructed him in but rather use his own style formed by his pit fights he was kicked out of the monastery. This was when he 14 or so a year after he was admitted into it.

Ogren spent the next couple of years of his life doing work as security at different bars and events to make ends meets using nothing but his fists and wits to control the crowds. However he always felt like an outsider not because of his race which was accepted although weirly he didn't agree with the way people acted they were so honest and good while he believed that deception and manipulation were the only ways to move up in the world.

Ogren wanted to learn more about "The Fallen" and did research on him and found how he would like the world to be one as if it were ruled by this man...no this divine being Asmodeus. Ogren went on to try and change the world to fit this mans ideals. However he knew it would not be easy so he tried to control people with fear to control them. He would use his skills of manipulation both of documents and of his intentions to get information over guards of estates. His goal was to try and show the world of the terrible deeds that the members of the Talingarde government does. This was his downfall one of the guards he thought he was controlling was in fact manipulating him. When he was getting important papers form a nobleman's house he was attacked on all sides and arrested on the spot. His crime High Treason on grounds of attempting to overthrow the crown.

Ogren's purpose is simple revenge, order, and bodily perfection. He wants revenge on those chaotic monsters that attacked and killed his "mother" as well as having the world bent to his whims through manipulation. He wishes not to be the face of the ruler but be in the shadows one of the real rulers of this world that manipulates everything and secretly eradicates those who go against him in any way whether that be through belief or action.

Ogren
Male Half-orc Brawler (Mutagenic Mauler) 1
N Medium humanoid (human, orc)
Init +5; Senses Dark vision 60 ft. ; Perception + 4
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Defense
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AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 10 (+10, +3 Dex)
hp 13 (1d10+3)
Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +2
Defensive Abilities:
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.

Unarmed Strike: +6 1d6+4

Ranged: N/A

Special Attacks: N/A
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Statistics
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Str 18, Dex 16, Con 17, Int 8, Wis 10, Cha 10

Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 18

Feats: Weapon Focus (unarmed strike)

Traits: Reactionary (+2 init), High Treason (+1 on will saves)

Skills: Perception + 4, Linguistics + 0, Intimidate + 6

Languages:Common, Orc,Celestial

SQ: Dark vision 60ft, Intimidating (+2 on intimidate), Sacred Tattoo (+1 on all saves),Mutagen, Brawler's cunning, Martial Training, Unarmed Strike

Ogren is surprisingly short standing just at 5ft tall. He has long black hair and a very well maintained beard. On Ogren there are various tattoos on his body that appear to be just random triangles however if anyone takes the time to trace them together these tattoos that are sacred to Ogren make the shape of a pentagram the unholy symbol of his deity Asmodeus.

Zaul, the Plague Doctor
Male Human Alchemist 1
NE Medium humanoid (human)
Init +3; Senses Perception +3
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Defense
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AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 10 (+3 dexterity)
hp 11 (1d8+3)
Fort +5, Ref +5, Will -1
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Ranged bomb +5 (1d6+5 Fire)
Special Attacks bomb 6/day (1d6+5 fire, DC 15)
Alchemist Spells Prepared (CL 1st; concentration +6)
. . 1st — Disguise self, Long arm, Shield
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Statistics
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Str 10, Dex 17, Con 17, Int 20, Wis 9, Cha 8
Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 13
Feats Brew Potion, Point-blank Shot, Precise Shot, Throw Anything
Traits Forgery
Skills Appraise +9, Craft (alchemy) +9 (+10 to create alchemical items), Craft (leather) +7, Disable Device +7, Heal +3, Knowledge (arcana) +9, Knowledge (nature) +9, Knowledge (planes) +6, Linguistics +9, Perception +3, Sleight of Hand +7, Spellcraft +9
Languages Common, Dwarven, Elven, Gnome, Halfling, Infernal, Undercommon
SQ human alchemist, alchemy, mutagen
Other Gear Nothing
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Special Abilities
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+1 Extracts in Formula Book. Add one extract formula from the alchemist formula list to the character's formula book. This formula must be at least one level below the highest formula level the alchemist can create. Favored Class Bonus
Alchemy +1 (Su) +1 to Craft (Alchemy) to create alchemical items, can Id potions by touch.
Bomb 1d6+5 (6/day, DC 15) (Su) Thrown Splash Weapon deals 1d6+5 fire damage.
Mutagen (DC 15) (Su) Mutagen adds +4 to a physical & -2 to a mental attribute, and +2 nat. armor for 10 min.
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.
Throw Anything Proficient with improvised ranged weapons. +1 to hit with thrown splash weapons.

Zaul grew up exceptionally comfortably in a home of high renown, but preferred, in his younger years, to stay anonymous within his family. This wasn't because of the fact that he had any physical deformity, or anything of real consequence, but primarily due to his line of work. Zaul was a Plague Doctor, or rather, knew he would become one.
Zaul's interest in becoming the token mysterious leather-covered doctor was a result of the illness claiming his mother. While his arrival in a city brought the weariness of disease, his efficiency was something well-spoken of. Originally his intent was, within Talingarde, preventing disease wherever he would tread, and his track record made him a close-coordinator with the royal family, who he honestly could care less about.
That was, of course, until the day that he finally got a favor from one of the nobles to see the papers regarding his mother's treatment. More than willing to repay the favor to the esteemed Alchemist, the man got the papers. Zaul cared little about how he did it.
Receiving the papers, Zaul felt... disturbed. His mother had contracted the plague in her old age, but weeks after the outbreak had been dealt with. For Zaul, he knew enough about the plague to understand how it worked, and it most certainly didn't spring up after weeks. Days at best, but not weeks.
It was this discovery that made Zaul begin to ravage the documents that involved those days' clerical meetings and doctor appointments. He became very, very good at discerning subtle hints within papers, and even started to abuse his knowledge, attempting to get even closer to the bottom of the conspiracy. Finally, one day, he garnered his final favor from one of the great knights at the time, and retrieved a paper that had the names of the doctors and their patients. With little hesitation, he investigated the man who tended to his mother.
While garnering a slow-burning rage that he kept well in check in public, Zaul read his way into the knowledge that not one, two or even three of the doctors actively assisted in situations regarding illness. Instead, they merely bolstered it in people they deemed potential enemies of the state, and worse, they got away with it under the guise of being devout Mitrans.
In a moment of sweet mental soliloquy, Zaul steeled himself for the task he would undertake soon. After hours of forgery, Zaul had created enough papers to pink slip the entire caste of people who'd been involved with the selective disease placement under the guise that they'd broken the Hippocratic oath. He even included himself to make the ruse more legitimate.
Over the course of the next 2 days, the forgery had been found out, but not before they had already reinstated the doctors who were truly involved in murders. It was these men who Zaul killed. He killed all of them in the course of a single week, with the exception of the last one, who immediately ratted out the good doctor's vengeance spree due to the obvious pattern. While he was primarily trialed for murder, they didn't particularly have proof on him as the corpses were incinerated within their own homes. What they did get him for, for certain, was forgery, and even then it was only due to a slip.
Stripped of his medical license, his uniform, his formula book, and everything he had, Zaul can do nothing but sit within his Cell, maintaining what little knowledge he has, and seething at the mere thought that so many corrupt and callous "Influential" and "Revered" still live within Talingarde. With the loss of so many healers, however, the next outbreak would cost the kingdom dearly, and he would savor the thought of being the one to usher it. Oh yes, he most certainly would.

While Zaul was once a pious and revered chemist known for his treatment of disease, his slow descent into the cruelties of politics and experimentation into more volatile Alchemy has done nothing but bolster his ever-growing thirst for vengeance against what he perceives as the entire Kingdom of Talingarde, and he'll use whatever resources he can find to do just that, stooping to whatever cruelty he must... it's just a matter of escaping prison first.

Paimon
Male half-orc (mystic) ninja 1 (Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Combat 13)
LE Medium humanoid (human, orc)
Init +4; Senses Perception +3
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Defense
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AC 14, touch 14, flat-footed 10 (+4 dexterity)
hp 11 (1d8+3)
Fort +5, Ref +8, Will +1
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Special Attacks sneak attack +1d6
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Statistics
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Str 12, Dex 18, Con 16, Int 13, Wis 8, Cha 12
Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 15
Feats Combat Expertise, Endurance
Traits almost human, fate's favored
Skills Acrobatics +8, Diplomacy +5, Disguise +5 (+9 on checks to pass as human), Heal +0, Intimidate +5, Perception +3, Perform (act) +5, Profession (torturer) +3, Stealth +8, Use Magic Device +5
Languages Common, Goblin, Orc
SQ hedonistic, orc blood, poison use
Other Gear 150 gp
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Special Abilities
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Combat Expertise +/-1 Bonus to AC in exchange for an equal penalty to attack.
Endurance +4 to a variety of fort saves, skill and ability checks. Sleep in L/M armor with no fatigue.
Fate's Favored Increase luck bonuses by 1.
Hedonistic If you do not gain a reward in a day, you are fatigued for 4h the next day (Fort DC 20 negates)
Orc Blood Half-orcs count as both humans and orcs for any effect related to race.
Poison Use You do not risk poisoning yourself accidentally while poisoning a weapon.
Sneak Attack +1d6 Attacks deal extra dam if flank foe or if foe is flat-footed.

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