Wrath Of The... heros I guess. (Inactive)

Game Master Helix Moltaran

Harram Fliyn
NG Male human slayer 1 (Advanced Class Guide page 53)
Init +4; Perception +4
Favored Class: Slayer
FCB: +1 Skill Point

DEFENSE
AC 17, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+3 Armor, +4 Dex)
Hp 12
Fort +4, Ref +6, Will +2

OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft.
Melee cold iron handaxe +2 (1d6+1, x3)
Melee cold iron gauntlet +2 (1d3+1)
Ranged composite longbow (+1 Str) +5 (1d8+1, x3)

STATISTICS
Str 12, Dex 18, Con 15, Int 8, Wis 10, Cha 8
Base Atk +1; CMB +2; CMD 16
Feats Armor Proficiencies (light, medium), Iron Will, Point Blank Shot, Shield Proficiency, Weapon Proficiencies (simple, martial)
Traits Chance Encounter, Scholar of the Great Beyond
Skills Acrobatics +8, Knowledge (planes) +3, Perception +4, Sense Motive +4, Stealth +8, Survival +4
Languages Common
SQ Studied Target, track
Gear: cold iron handaxe, cold iron gauntlet, composite longbow (+1 Str), 40 arrows, 40 cold iron arrows, backpack, bedroll, flint and steel, iron pot, mess kit, rope, torches (10), rations (10), waterskin, wooden holy symbol (Desna), 90 gp

Studied target (Ex): A slayer can study an opponent as a move action. The slayer gains a +1 bonus on Bluff, Knowledge, Perception, Sense Motive, and Survival checks attempted against that target, and a +1 bonus on weapon attack and damage rolls against it. The DCs of Slayer class abilities increase by 1. A slayer can maintain these bonuses against only 1 target at a time; these bonuses remain in effect until either the opponent is dead or the slayer studies a new target.
If a slayer deals sneak attack damage to a target, he can study the target as an immediate action, allowing him to apply his studied target bonuses against that target (including the normal weapon damage roll).
At 5th, 10th, 15th, and 20th levels, the bonus on weapon attack and damage rolls, the bonus on skills, as well as the bonus on slayer ability DCs on a studied target all increase by 1. In addition, at each such interval, a slayer is able to maintain these bonuses against and additional studied target at the same time. The slayer may discard this connection to a studied target as a free action.
At 7th level, a slayer can study an opponent as a move or swift action.

Track (Ex): A slayer adds ½ his level (minimum 1), to Survival checks made to follow tracks.

Iron Will: +2 to Will Save
Point Blank Shot: +1 to hit and +1 damage within 30 ft.

Harram Fliyn was born the second son of a Magnimarian guardsman 2 years before the Fourth Mendevian Crusade. When the call for volunteers went out, his father felt the need to join the crusaders, and so moved himself and his family to Kenabres to join the crusade. Growing up in a city that was the center of crusade, Harram often found himself left to his own devices. His older brother sought to join the church of Iomedae as a paladin, and would brush him off anytime he tried to spend time with him, and he didn’t much care for his younger sister and her dolls. Instead, he and some other children would wander and play, sneaking about and pretending to be crusaders fighting vicious demons. They would stay out too late sometimes, and be in trouble when they got home. Harram’s mother often said, “Harram, you must be more careful? Why can’t you be more serious like your brother?” Harram didn’t listen very well, and continued doing as he had done.

One day, though, their play took them a bit too far, and they found themselves in unfamiliar terrain. Lost, they wandered until it grew dark, eventually taking shelter in a cluster of rocks, terrified of what might be waiting for them. As they cowered, they saw a monstrous shape emerge from the darkness, approaching their hiding spot, licking its lips in hunger.

Suddenly, a woman appeared out of nowhere and attacked the creature. After a short battle, the monster lay dead at her feet. She beckoned the children to come with her, for she would see them to safety. She had a symbol that Harram had seen on some of the priests in Kenabres, a butterfly. She seemed to draw some sort of comfort from the talisman, and she shepherded them towards what they hoped was Kenabres, fighting off other creatures during the night. As dawn approached, she told them to rest in a small copse of trees, and they lied down. A short while later, they were awoken by a group of crusaders, and found the woman was gone. Harram returned home to his worried mother and father. He apologized for all he’d done, and was overjoyed to see them. He asked his brother about the butterfly, and his brother said it was the symbol of Desna.

Harram always remembered the experience, and he decided he would learn to fight demons as the woman had done. Although he found he didn’t truly have the strength to go toe to toe with a demon, his natural hand-eye coordination and agility made him a natural archer. He learned to study the unique quirks of different creatures, and how no two of the same creature moved quite alike. He also learned as much about the demons as he could so that he could be prepared to fight the demons. As he studied combat and demons more and more, he stopped spending time with his old friends. His single-minded determination to become a demon slayer slowly alienated them, and they chose to pursue other things than attempt to kindle a one-sided friendship.

Now, Harram feels he is ready to hunt the creatures. But first, it his brother’s day of graduation as a Paladin of Iomedae, and Harram has chosen to attend the ceremony.

Harram is a lanky man with an average, slightly slender build. He moves quickly and easily through crowds, and appears a completely ordinary person. With strangers, Harram is rarely the one to make the introduction, and he prefers to listen to others talk then talk himself.

/ 1Sacred Huntsmaster
N Medium humanoid (human, orc)
Init +; darkvision 60ft .;Percep+8;intim+5;SenceM++;K(Nature)+3;Stealth+;8
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Defense
--------------------
AC: 18(, touch 14, flat-footed 14(+4 armor, +4 Dex, )
hp: 9 (1d8+1)
Fort 4(+1+1 Sacred tattoo), Ref 5(+4+1 ST), Will +5(+3+1 ST)

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Offense
--------------------
Speed:30 ft.
Range:Long bow+4
-------damage(1d8x3) Arrows(60)
Melee:Sythe +0
-------damage:(2d4+3x4)

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Statistics
--------------------
Str 10(0),Dex 18(+4), Con 13(+1),Int 9(-1),Wis 17(+3),Cha 8(-2)
Base: Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD; +14

Feats:
Boon Companion

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Skills:{5 Ranks}
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Bluff (Cha),
Climb (Str),
Craft (Int),
Diplomacy (Cha),
Disguise (Cha),
Heal (Wis),
Intimidate (Cha), +5(+1rank,-2race,+2 race,+1(class)
Knowledge (arcana) (Int),
Knowledge (dungeoneering) (Int),
Knowledge (nature) (Int),+3 (+1rank,-1int)
Knowledge (planes) (Int),
Knowledge (Religion) (Int),
Perception (Wis),+9 (+1 rank,+3wis,+2(domain)
Profession (Wis),
Ride (Dex),
Sense Motive (Wis),+ 8(+1rank,+3wis,+1(class)
Spellcraft (Int),
Stealth (Dex),+8 (+1rank,+4Dex)
Survival (Wis),
Swim (Str).
Languages Common, Orc

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Class
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Animal Companion (Ex)

Monster Lore
Stern Gaze (Ex)

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Domain Animal
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Animal Domain
sub Feather

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Spells
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saving throw against an inquisitor's spell is 10 + the spell level + the inquisitor's Wisdom modifier. spells perday 1(4)
--0 level spells
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Create Water
]
Daze
Brand

Guidance
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Level 1 spells
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Cure Light Wounds

Keep Watch

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Domain spells
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Animals level 1
Feather Fall level 2
Fly level 3

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[spoiler=Gear]
MW Chain shirt 100 gp +4 +4 –1 20% 30 ft. 20 ft. 25 lbs.(250GP),
Longbow (75 gp) 1d8 ×3 100 ft. 3 lbs. P —
Arrows (60) (3 gp) 9 lbs.
Scythe(18GP) 2d4 ×4 — 10 lbs. P or S,
Backpack (empty)2 gp,
Bedroll 1 sp
Bell 1 gp ,
Blanket, winter 5 sp,
Lantern, bullseye 12 gp,
Rations, trail (per day)x10 5 sp
Rope, hemp (50 ft.)
Rope, silk (50 ft.) 10 gp .
Sack (empty) 1 sp
Sealing wax 1 gp
Sewing needle 5 sp —
Shovel 2 gp
Signal whistle 8 sp —
Signet ring 5 gp
Soap (per lb.) 5 sp
Waterskin 1 gp

Many half-orcs decorate themselves
with tattoos, piercings, and ritual scarification, which
they consider sacred markings. Half-orcs with this racial
trait gain a +1 luck bonus on all saving throws. This racial
trait replaces orc ferocity

Half-orcs receive a +2 racial bonus on Intimidate checks due to their
fearsome nature

Totem Guide (Companion Archetype)
Ape
Bonus from master Boon Companion
Animal Companion level 5
HP:++(5d8+10)
Size L; Speed 30 ft.,
climb 30 ft.;

AC +5 natural armor;
BAB:+3
Fort:6(4,+2(con)
Reflex:7(4+3(dex)
Will:2(1+1(wis)
Attack bite (1d6), 2 claws (1d6);

Ability Scores
Str 22,
Dex 16,
Con 14,
Int 3,(level 4 Ability score increase)
Wis 12,
Cha 7;

Special Qualities low-light vision, scent.

Korrvin was born to a poor coming family but showed talent for magic at a very young age. Hoping to get some kind of gold his family took him to the monastery, he was brought to the head of the monastery and when he saw the holy mark on his face. He believed the boy was distend for greatness one day. Korrvin was placed in to training to become an inquisitor right away and was pared with Arnak Sangre who was the head of the class. Arnak took Korrvin under his wing and helped him in his study's. The two became fast friends and to Korrvin a friendly rivalry began to grow in him. determined to become just as talented as his friend he trained every day and long into the night until finally he was a mach with Arnak in skill and power. At first Arnak was happy for his friend in his advancement in the monastery. As time when on Korrvin fell in love and had a family, Arnak was named godfather to his two children. One day the old Inquisitor who was the head of the monastery called his two best students and told them soon he would be levering the monastery to Korvin for with the gods mark on his head he will take this small place to the glory it should have. Now un know to Korrvin ,Arnak was in love with his wife for along time but let it go since his friend was happy. But after not having the monastery given to him was the last straw.Arnak left in the night and that was the last Korrvin saw of him, untill 5 years later when he cam home to find the door open and the body of his first borne with a axe in his back, Korrvin ran into the house screaming his wife's and child's name. only to see Arnak as he ran his youngest through the chest with a sword, he looked at Korrvin and said "you took what was to be mine, so i will take what is yours". As korrvin ran to attack Arank two men came out of the darkness and held him to the ground. Korrvin was helpless as he raped and then killed his wife. Just as Arnak came to finish off Korrvin how ape came bursting though the wall and attacked the two holding Korrvin down, at that moment Arnal ran and jumped out the window on to a hose he had near by and as he rode away Korrvin could here him say "perhaps a another time my friend"... now vowing revenge Korrvin now is looking for Arnak Sangre and will kill him ...some day.

Svett Koon speaks without any hesitation, "Gnome I am, yes. Common tongue sound good, yes? Learn the language of demons here? Words compel, contrast, live, and last." A strangle giggle is heard from the gnome afterward at his own sense of humor. Svett continues, "Ahh, paladin in Kenebres, many paladins in Kenebres. Symbol be same as mine." His holy symbol is revealed with a grin on his face, "Redemption is a passion, passion, and passion." A brief pause of contemplation reaches his face for the next round of entertaining."Showed symbol to red creature. Learning it's languages is a must, then..." Svett pauses for anticipation as if this is a epic narrative. "Attack me it did, see scar,"A multitude of scars are on his body. Yet, distinctively separate from the others, on his stomach, a long red scar remains.

"Change be everywhere, Tall Paladin man. Now, blind I be and partially see. Came to bring life to crusade."

He doesn't wait for the paladin's response and moves on for the next thrill.

Full Name: Svett Koon

Race:Gnome

Classes/Levels: Oracle Of Life 1 (Dual Cursed Oracle)

Gender: Male

Size: Small

Age: 75

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Deity: Sarenrae

Languages: Celestial, Common, Draconic, Elven, Gnome, Sylvan,

Strength: 8
Dexterity: 8
Constitution: 20
Intelligence: 10
Wisdom: 11
Charisma: 15

Type: Humanoid (Gnome)
Init: -1; Senses: Low Light Vision, Darkvision, (30 Ft) Perception: +3
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DEFENSE
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AC: , Touch: , Flat-Footed: ( + Armor, +1 Size, -1 Dex, )
HP:14(1d8+5+1)
Fort: +5, Ref: +0, Will: +2,
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OFFENSE
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Spd ft: 20 (15 with armor)
Melee: +0 Scimitar
Ranged:
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STATISTICS
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Base Atk: +0; CMB: -2; CMD: 7
Feats: Extra Revelation,
Traits:Blessed Touch, Exposed To Awfulness, Focused Mind,
Drawback: Naïve,
Racial Traits: Academician: (Knowledge-Religion), Gift Of Tongues,Gnome Magic 1/day, Keen Senses, Illusion Resistance, Low Light Vision, Weapon Familiarity,
Favored Class: Oracle Of Life- 1 Hit Point
Skills:Diplomacy: +7, Heal: +4, Knowledge (Religion): +6, Lingistics: +4,
Oracle Curses: Tongues-(Celestial), Clouded Vision-(no advancement)
Special Abilities:Revelation-Channel Energy 3/day 1d6+1, Revelation-Safe Curing, Spells,
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SPELLCASTING
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Gnome Magic
1/day-Dancing Lights, Ghost Sound, Prestidigitation, Speak With Animals,

Oracle Spells Known
Level 0: Create Water, Enhanced Diplomacy, Light, Stabilize,
Level 1 : 4/day- Cure Light Wounds 1d6+2, Deathwatch, Shield Of Faith,

Marcellano Alazario
Male Human (Chelaxian) Cleric of Asmodeus 1
LE Humanoid (Human)
Init: +3 Senses: Perception +4
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AC: 17, touch 9, flat-footed 17 (+6 armor, -1 Dex, +2 sheild)
HP: 9 (1d8+1)
Fort: +2 Reflex: -1 Will: +6
Defense: Asmodean Demon Hunter (+2 Will vs demons)
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Speed: 20 feet
Melee: Cold Iron Heavy Mace +0 (1d8)
Ranged: Fire Bolt -1 touch (1d6)
Special: Channel Negative Energy (1d6, DC 14, 6/day), Fire Bolt (1d6, 7/day), Touch of Law (7/day)
Spell-like Abilities (CL 1st)
1/day - Burning Hands
Cleric Spell Prepared (CL 1st)
1st-level - Cure Light Wounds, Divine Favor, Protection from Chaos (Domain)
0-level - Detect Magic, Light, Resistance
Domains: Ash (Fire), Law
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Str: 10 0
Dex: 8 -1
Con: 11 0
Int: 16 +3
Wis: 18 +4
Cha: 17 +3
BAB: +0 CMB: +0 CMD: 9
Feats: Improved Initiative, Selective Channeling
Skills: Heal +8, Knowledge (Arcana) +7, Knowledge (Religion) +7, Knowledge (Planes) +7 (+10 vs demons), Sense Motive +8, Spellcraft +7
Traits: Asmodean Demon Hunter, Touched By Divinity (Asmodeus)
Languages: Abyssal, Common, Elven, Infernal
Special: Skilled (+1 skill point per level)
Combat Gear: Alchemist’s Fire (3), Potion of Cure Light Wounds (2)
Other Gear: Cold Iron Heavy Mace, Breastplate, Heavy Steel Shield, Backpack, Bedroll, Belt Pouch, Flint and Steel, Silver Holy Symbol of Asmodeus (embedded in right glove), Sunrod (3), Waterskin, 80 gp

Marcellano was born in the seedy slums of Egorian, the very heart of Cheliax itself. He never knew his father, as his mother was a prostitute in one of the city’s slums. Disease claimed her life when Marc was only eight years old; leaving him orphaned and broke in the streets of Egorian. By all rights, he should have starved to death before he made it through his first winter. Marc instead found himself standing before one of the local temples of Asmodeus. The twisting infernal architecture of the building was almost hypnotic to the young man, and he ended up spending hours simply hunched against a wall across the street staring blankly at the stone façade of the building. In a rare show of kindness, one of the priests at the temple took him in and gave him shelter. That night, Marc dreamed of a black court with a red skinned being upon a black throne. The majesty and power of the dream clung to his mind in the morning and he began to beg the priests to take him in as an acolyte. Though at first skeptical, the priests eventually conceded and Marc spent the rest of his childhood in the infernal cathedral learning the doctrine and teachings of Diabolism and Asmodeus.

In recent months, Marcellano has begun to experience stronger dreams and visions of deadly battles between diabolic legions and demonic hordes. Beginning to become worried of some demonic threat to the order or Cheliax, he increased his training, learning all he could of demonic lore and training himself to fight against the denizens of the Abyss. Some months ago, Marc was present in the temple when a Hellknight commander arrived seeking blessings and support for his efforts to lead men to Mendev to fight in the crusades against the Worldwound. Taking this as a sign, Marc immediately offered to join the crusaders as a spell caster and ally. After some debate, the head priest of the temple blessed the venture and Marc departed to Mendev with the Hellknights. Though the Hellknights had served in the crusades before, a sense of paranoia over the crusaders potential reaction to his faith caused him to become rather insular during their trip, only speaking with the Hellknights and upon their arrival he rarely interacted with anyone outside the contingent, making him something of an outsider within Mendev.

Marc is a slim, almost gaunt figure with carefully trimmed black hair, pulled back in a short ponytail. His skin is pale from hours indoors studying religious texts and participating in rituals to Asmodeus and he has little physical strength due to lack of exercise. He is a quiet man, but when he speaks he speaks with conviction and determination, showing and surprising zeal and relentless spirit. He is heavily dedicated to law, despising chaos and doing whatever is necessary to ensure order, no matter the cost or the suffering he must cause in the process.

Curn was 12 years old when the demons came, tearing through the refugee camp like a summer storm through wheat. Curn's father was among the first to die, caught between the broken walls of the old town and the canvas tents of the new. His mother died next, trying to keep the screaming horrors away from her daughters and son. Curn picked up her sword when it fell, but had no chance to use it before the demon plunged its bloody claws into his chest. Like icy spikes, the nails grasped his beating heart. Then the demon disappeared in a blinding flash of light that washed over the wounded boy like a soft caress.

The paladins that saved him left Curn and his sisters at an orphanage in Kenabres, but he didn't stay long, sneaking over the walls to head into the countryside, searching for any that might remain from his clan - or sign of their demonic killers. Every few weeks brought him back to the city, often in the custody of crusaders unwilling to leave the wild boy alone in the demon-infested lands.

Years passed and the boy grew into a hardened scout, prized by the other crusaders for his ability to track the demonic hordes that roam the ruined kingdom. Wielding cast-off weapons, he learned to slay the fiends and their mortal allies by watching the more seasoned warriors, cobbling together a fighting style fusing Ulfen shieldwork and close-range sword thrusts.

Curn is tall and heavily-muscled, his hands and arms covered in intricate tattoos that curl around his back and chest. Armed with weapons and armor scavenged from failed crusaders, he has made a habit of collecting small fetishes and holy symbols from those he meets and using them to adorn his equipment. Superstitious by nature, he is convinced that the spirits summoned by the dead Sarkorian god-callers have been imprisoned in the Worldwound. Seeing little difference between those spirits and the gods of the southern lands, he promises the crusaders he meets that he'll try to find their gods, as well.

race: 1d10 ⇒ 5 1-4 is core, 5-10 non core
Non-core
1-3 aasimar, 4-6 catfok,7-8 ifrit, 9-10 kitsune,11-12 sylph
race: 1d12 ⇒ 5 Catfolk it is!

1-5 core, 6-10 base
class: 1d10 ⇒ 1 Core
in alphabetical order taking out paladin cause there were many already.
class: 1d10 ⇒ 2 Bard!

Bard
CG Medium Catfolk (humanoid)
Init +5, Perception -2, Senses low light vision
Favored Class : Bard Add +1/2 to the bard's bardic knowledge bonus.

Defense
AC 18, Touch 15, Flat Footed 13
(+3 Armor, +0 shield, +5 dex)
HP 7
Fort -1, Reflex +7, Will +0
Defensive ability : Cat's Luck (Ex) Once per day when a catfolk makes a Reflex saving throw, he can roll the saving throw twice and take the better result. He must decide to use this ability before the saving throw is attempted.
Offense
Speed 30ft
Climb 20ft (alternate race trait climber replaces sprinter, +8 bonus to climb checks)
Normal Attack:
Rapier - +5 to hit, 1d6-1 damage
Light crossbow - +5 to hit, 1d8 damage
Whip - +5 to hit, 1d3 NL damage
Dagger - +5 to hit, 1d4-1 damage

Statistics
STR = 8 DEX=20 CON=8 INT= 12 WIS= 7 CHR=18
Base Atk +0, CMB -1, CMD 14
Feats: Weapon Finesse
Traits Irrepressible, Avid Reader (kn.Planes)
Skills: 2 Ranks K. Religion +3, Diplomacy +8
Racial/Template Modifiers +2 Dex, +2 Chr, -2 Wisdom
Curiosity catfolk are naturally inquisitive about the world around them, though some are more curious than others. Such catfolk gain a +4 bonus on Diplomacy checks to gather information, and Knowledge (history) and Knowledge (local) are always class skills for them. If they choose a class that has either of these Knowledge skills as class skills, they gain a +2 racial bonus on those skills instead. This racial trait replaces natural hunter.

Combat Gear: MW Studded Leather, Rapier, Whip, Light Crossbow, 20 bolts, dagger
Bards kit -(backpack,bedroll,belt pouch, lute,flint+steel, ink pen, ink, iron pot, journal,mess kit, mirror, rope, soap, torches (10)trail rations, (5 days), waterskin. 3 Sunrods

Wealth 218 gp

Special Abilities: Bardic knowledge, Bardic Performance,Cantrips, Countersong, distraction, Fascinate,Inspire courage +1

Backstory: Tuli is a war orphan, a somewhat miraculous survivor of an attack on her families caravan when she was but a small kit. Crusaders found her mewling in the wreckage of one of the wagons, and a normally stern in one of the temples. She was always a timid child, aware of her differences from the others and just generally shy,Always a follower even when it didnt make sense to do so, her life was almost destined to be irremarkible at all.

Then Sister Cadence arrived and awoke something in the slender feline like young woman. Sister Cadence had served along the front lines as a healer, as a morale officer, and when needed as a warrior to injuries sent her to the temple to serve. Tuli took to learning all she could from the woman, her talent for song grew, as did her ability to remember stories almost after hearing them once. When sister Cadence passed on from age, Tuli refused to cry...instead it further emboldened her live life like her mentor. She was no cleric, though faith ran deep in her, but with all the crusaders in Kenebras she too would do what she could to help the effort, So she made her way to Kenebres.

Xilanyx, Kobold Rogue
STR 11
DEX 20
CON 12
INT 13
WIS 8
CHA 13
HP 9
Speed 30
AC 20 Touch 16 Flat 15
Init +5
BAB 0
Fort +1, Ref +7, Will +0
CMB -1, CMD 14

=== skills ===
Acrobatics (1 rank) +9
Appraise +1
Bluff +1
Climb 0
Diplomacy +1
Disable Device (1 rank) +12
Disguuise +1
Escape Artist (1 rank) +9
Fly +7
Heal -1
Intimidate +1
Knowledge Dungeoneering (1 rank) +5
Perception (1 rank) +5 (+6 for trapfinding)
Ride +5
Sense Motive (1 rank) +3
Slight of Hand (1 rank) +9
Stealth (1 rank) +13
Survival -1
Swim 0
Use Magic Device (1 rank) +5

=== offense ===
Dagger +1 (1d3) 19-20/x2
Shortbow +6 (1d4) 20/x3

=== armor ===
Masterwork studded leather

Languages Draconic, common
Sneak attack (1d6)

=== traits ===
Anatomist
Indomitable faith

=== feats ===
Combat reflexes

+2 Dexterity, –4 Strength, –2 Constitution: Kobolds are fast but weak.

Reptilian: Kobolds are humanoids with the reptilian subtype.

Small: Kobolds are Small creatures and gain a +1 size bonus to their AC, a +1 size bonus on attack rolls, a –1 penalty on their combat maneuver checks and to Combat Maneuver Defense, and a +4 size bonus on Stealth checks.

Normal Speed: Kobolds have a base speed of 30 feet.

Darkvision: Kobolds can see in the dark up to 60 feet.

Armor: Kobolds have a +1 natural armor bonus.

Crafty: Kobolds gain a +2 racial bonus on Craft (trapmaking), Perception, and Profession (miner) checks. Craft (traps) and Stealth are always class skills for a kobold.

Weakness: Light sensitivity.

Languages: Kobolds begin play speaking only Draconic. Kobolds with high Intelligence scores can choose from the following: Common, Dwarven, Gnome, and Undercommon.

Variants

While most kobolds are red, green, blue, or black in coloration, a few among them exhibit powerful abilities based on the color of their scales. These truly exceptional specimens are admired by their kin and often rise to positions of power and authority in the tribe. None of these exceptional kobolds are powerful enough to have higher CRs, but they are slightly superior to their kin nonetheless.

Black: Widely dispersed in forests, swamps, and underground, the black-scaled kobolds are better swimmers than their brethren and gain a +4 racial bonus on Swim checks.

Blue: The blue variant of kobolds appears most often within tribes dominated by other scale colors. They are said to be among the best diabolists and schemers, and gain a +1 inherent bonus to their Wisdom. Many are powerful clerics of Asmodeus.

Green: These are the standard forest kobolds, well camouflaged in leafy undergrowth. They gain an additional +4 racial bonus on Hide checks.

Red: These kobolds are pyromaniacs and make extensive use of fire, especially the alchemical and magical kinds. These kobolds gain a +2 bonus to the DC of any spell they cast with the fire subtype and a +2 bonus on saves made against fear effects. Most are a bit more arrogant than average kobolds.

White: Like the blues, white-scaled kobolds are a little less frequent than other types. They are often powerful sorcerers, gaining a +1 bonus to the DC of any spell they cast with the cold subtype and a +1 inherent bonus to their Charisma.

In addition to these, the kobolds of Golarion sometimes hatch out a throwback to their draconic ancestors. These are the dragonbreath kobolds, who share the ability of the chromatic dragons to breathe acid, cold, electricity, fire, or poisonous gas. They can breathe in 15-foot lines or 10-foot cones once per round as a move action, forcing a DC 13 Reflex save for half damage. Those who fail the saving throw take 1d8 points of damage. After using their breath weapons, dragonbreath kobolds must wait 1d4 rounds before using them again. These kobolds are CR 1.

As sneaky nocturnal creatures with a huge streak of cowardice, kobolds make decent rogues and assassins. A society of such assassins exists in Golarion; the call themselves the Dragonblood Circle and serve the will of Zon-Kuthon. This group of kobolds communicates by bat messenger and travels by boar from settlement to settlement, carrying messages and news between the larger tribes and hiring itself out to take revenge on those who oppose the rulership of dragons and their kin. Dragonblood Circle members typically disguise themselves as gnomes or halflings to spread the blame for their acts of arson, murder, or extortion to others.

Caelia Taviskin
Female Neutral Good Human (Taldan) Cleric (Merciful Healer), Level 1, Init +3, HP 8/8, Speed 30
AC 16, Touch 13, Flat-footed 13, CMD 12, Fort +2, Ref +3, Will +5, CMB -1, Base Attack Bonus 0
Cold Iron Scimitar -1 (1d6-1, 18-20/x2)
Light Crossbow (10) +3 (1d8, 19-20/x2)
Cold Iron Dagger +3 (1d4-1, 19-20/x2)
Masterwork Studded Leather (+3 Armor, +3 Dex)
Abilities Str 8, Dex 17, Con 10, Int 13, Wis 17, Cha 18
Condition None
Languages Common (Taldan), Hallit
Traits Touched by Divinity, Blessed Touch
Feats Selective Channeling, Weapon Finesse

Caelia is a kind and altruistic person, devoting her life to helping heal the sick. She regularly gives alms to the poor, and defends the down trodden by whatever means at her disposal. As such, she generally leaves a great impression with the people she meets, and has respect among the residents of Kenabres. She is also wise beyond her years, and carefully considers all options before making any decisions.

Though outwardly kind and outgoing, Caelia has a somewhat pessimistic view of the world around her, and occasionally suffers from bouts of melancholy. Though she tries to help others in whatever ways she can, she struggles with feelings that her efforts are insignificant in the face of the evil pouring out from the Worldwound.

While an accomplished healer, Caelia harbors some self doubt and insecurities, feelings which she guards well. She is somewhat of a perfectionist, and highly critical of her own work.

Caelia (pron. Kay-lee-ah) is the younger of two children born to Theodric and Julia Taviskin, residents of the city of Kenabres. The Taviskin family family has resided in Kenabres for several generations, and has a long history of serving the various religious orders that have launched crusades as healers and medics. Though not specifically loyal to any one order in particular, the Taviskin's have enjoyed the friendship and gratitude of the various Crusaders for the healing and spiritual guidance they have provided. When Caelia was a child, both she and her older brother Iosef became acutely aware of their familial history watching their father Theodric serve during the 4th Crusade.

Raised as devout followers of Sarenra, both Caelia and her brother showed signs divine influence from a young age, though such power manifested itself differently in the children; Caelia was gifted with the ability to heal through divine energy, while her brother's abilities seemed to harness Sarenrae's light through the sword. Recognizing their talents early, Theodric had both of his children trained to hone their respective skills. The two siblings excelled at their studies and prayer; Caelia herself was several years to young to serve during the 4th Crusade, but her brother came of age and took up his sword to fight alongside the Order of the Flaming Lance. Caelia idolized her brother during this time, as he successfully completed several campaigns and became a seasoned warrior for good; tragically for Caelia and her parents, Iosef disappeared during a particularly disastrous counter-attack against the Storm King. Several years have passed since Iosef disappeared, and while Caelia's parents have lost hope for their sons survival, Caelia prays regularly for his safety and survival, though she suspects the worst.

In the years since the 4th Crusade ended, Caelia completed her training as a physician and divine healer of Sarenrae, and spends her time helping out at the local infirmary and hospitals in Kenabres, aiding the sick. Detesting war and violence, Caelia has been at least somewhat at peace with the Crusaders reticence to challenge the Storm King, though secretly she yearns for an opportunity to accompany some Crusaders into the Worldwound, to see what might have become of her older brother.

Martial
Runge – Harn Serenada, Male human paladin 1
Ashe – Gabriel the Just, Male aasimar paladin 1
Brandon Dellmen – Eibon Elders, Male aasimar paladin 1
Wivvy – [Name], [Sex] suli paladin 1
Javell DeLeon – Morgrym Ironfist, Male dwarf barbarian 1
Berenzen – [Name], [Sex] [race] bloodrager 1
Mackenzie Kavanaugh – Galina Lukyanov, Female skinwalker monk 1

Divine
CaptainFord – Oskar Balderk, Male dwarf cleric 1
A Golden Time – Svett Koon, Male gnome oracle 1
Calinthas Aldimay – Caelia Taviskin, Female human cleric 1
kamenhero25 – Marcellano Alazario, Male human cleric 1
Brooklyn85 – [Name], [Sex] human warpriest 1

Arcane
zimmerwald1915 – Tindómiel Itarillë, Female elf arcanist 1
markofbane – Coeran Medvyed, Male human wizard 1
HighonHolyWater – [Name], [Sex] gnome sorcerer 1
zomblisham – [Name], [Sex] kobold [class] 1
Jejraas the Owlbear – [Name], Male [race] witch 1

Skill
tribeof1 – Curn Blackhand, Male human slayer 1
Lady Ladile – [Name], [Sex] [race] skald 1
Brother Fen – Selador Sylvanin, Male half-elf ranger 1
Riuk – Korrvin, Male half-orc inquisitor 1
Phntm888 – Harram Fliyn, Male human slayer 1
Tharasiph – Estagar, Male half-elf inquisitor 1
TheNine – Tuli, Female catfolk bard 1
Ira kroll – Xilanyx, [Sex] kobold rogue 1

Miscellaneous
DoubleGold – [Name], [Sex] [race] inquisitor or magus or hunter or warpriest 1
DM Variel – [Name], [Sex] tiefling ranger or rogue 1

XP 400
Female elf arcanist (Eldritch Font) 1
LG Medium humanoid (elf)
Init +1; Senses low-light vision, Perception +1
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DEFENSE
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AC 11, touch 11, flat-footed 10 (+1 Dex)
hp 8 (1d6+2)
Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +1
Immune light-based blindness and dazzle
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OFFENSE
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee dagger –1 (1d4–1/19–20)
Ranged longbow +1 (1d8–1/x3)
Special Attacks consume spells, font of power
Elf Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st; concentration +8)
. . at will—light
Arcanist Spells Prepared (CL 1st; concentration +8)
. . 1st (5/day)—color spray (DC 16)
. . 0 (at will)—detect magic, mage hand, prestidigitation, read magic
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STATISTICS
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Str 8, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 20, Wis 8, Cha 13
Base Atk +0; CMB –1; CMD 10
Feats Skill Focus (heal)
Traits Natural-Born Leader[UCA], Riftwarden Orphan[WotRPG]
Skills Heal +2, Knowledge (arcana, history, nobility, planes) +9, Profession (librarian) +3, Spellcraft +9, Use Magic Device +5
Languages Celestial, Common, Draconic, Elven, Gnome, Orc, Sylvan
SQ arcane reservoir (3/4 points), arcanist exploits (quick study), lightbringer[ARG], weapon familiarity
Combat Gear scroll of gust of wind, scroll of hold portal; Other Gear dagger, longbow with 20 arrows, belt pouches (2)[UE], grooming kit[UE], journal[UE], scrivener's kit[UE], scroll cases (2)[UE], spell component pouch, spellbook (contains all cantrips and prepared spells plus 1st – break[APG], expeditious retreat, forced quiet[UM], mage armor, magic missile, protection from evil, and summon monster I), star charts[ARG], 26 gp

Tindómiel wears her straight, blue-black hair long, except for a severely-cropped fringe of bangs. Her expressive ears peek out of this curtain of hair, perking up when Tindómiel is excited, focused, or happy, twitching when she panics, and drooping when she feels depressed or disappointing. She has naturally olive skin, but has gone somewhat wan due to how little sun she gets. Her large, violet eyes sparkle with light; sometimes the raspberry glow of her dweomer, sometimes the piercing glint of the stars. Her Seeker's Spiral birthmark appears on her left thigh, but is almost always covered by her robes.

These are plain, modestly cut, mauve-colored wool, well-suited to the northern climes of Avistan. Tindómiel cinches a wide sash the same color as her eyes around her waist. From it hang three practical leather pouches containing her spell components, her money, and her books, papers, and other supplies. Each is assiduously organized so that Tindómiel can get what she needs quickly and without fuss. She also keeps a dagger on her left hip. Her soft moccasins and wool cloak are both a dark sapphire blue; the cloak is clasped with a red beryl brooch emblazoned with the Seeker's Spiral in silver. Tindómiel hangs her bow and quiver over her shoulder.

* * * Nerosyan, 4660 AR * * *
Tindómiel lay on her belly in emya's study, absorbed in a treatise on how the conjunctions of the Moon and planets affected the strength of the wardstones. She hummed quietly as she read, using a cantrip she'd recently mastered to turn the pages. Around her, were heaped haphazard piles of books. Eventually they would all have to be re-shelved; Tindómiel had worked out a system, based on genre, author, and date, and pasted it to the bottom of the top shelf. But she'd already polished atya's telescope, washed the dishes, oiled the horns, tuned the harpsichord, and felt she deserved a break. Her parents weren't due back until after sunset.

Or maybe they were early! Tindómiel had no idea why they would knock at the door instead of walking right in—or teleporting, as they sometimes did—but the sharp rapping from down the hall couldn't be anything else. She scrambled to get at least a few of the books off the floor, shoving them into the shelves with hands and magic and with no regard for her system. Finally the study looked somewhat presentable and Tindómiel felt comfortable going to the door.

She peeped through the peephole like she'd been taught, even though she had to stand on her toes to do it. To her surprise, she found not emya or atya, but a young, nervous-looking human she had never seen before.

"Excuse me," he said, glancing down at his sleeve. Tindómiel could see a small square of paper protruding from the cuff. "May I speak to Miss Tintallë?"

Tindómiel unlocked the door immediately. "Come in," she said, and waved the stranger into the sitting room.

He took the armchair, but pushed the footstool away and motioned for Tindómiel to sit on it, facing him. She did, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled out a pipe, shredded the paper, packed it into the bowl with some tobacco, and began to smoke. He coughed almost immediately. "How in blasted Avernus the Molthunis can stand smoking paper …" Tindómiel's eyes widened at the oath. "I'm sorry," the stranger said. "It's just I know how personal that name is, so I did my best to make sure I wouldn't learn it, and I thought I was really clever about destroying it. … I'm rambling. Let me start over. My name is Alden. I knew your parents, Silmion and Samendel."

"I know," said Tindómiel. Who else would have told him her secret name? Especially without giving him theirs? And there was something strange about the way he was talking, too. "Call me Tindómiel."

"Alright, Tindómiel," said Alden, taking another pull on his pipe. He made a face, but it seemed to calm him down. "How much do you know about your parents' work?"

"A little," she admitted. Why was he testing her like this? She was determined not to disappoint Alden, though, so she continued. "They keep demons from coming through and hurting people. It's very important. Sometimes they have to leave me alone for a while, and they don't say where they're going."

"Beyond the wardstones," said Alden. Tindómiel gasped. "Mapping and closing outlying rifts. I really admired them." He sighed. "They were supposed to be back at Kenabres two days ago. We tried contacting them, and searching with magic, but there was nothing. I'm sorry."

Tindómiel stared dumbly at Alden, a stew of emotions roiling in the pit of her stomach. He had to be lying. How dare he!? He must know she'd found him out, why else would he be looking at her in such fear? She looked down; she'd lifted up off the footstool, and her whole body was glowing with a rich, rosy light. What did that mean? Tindómiel was scared. She wanted atya to tell her everything would be alright—but that would never happen again. A white light flashed from behind her eyes and Tindómiel heard two pops followed by a crashing thunk, then she flopped to the floor, completely spent.

When she came to, the first thing Tindómiel saw was the overturned armchair. It looked like one of the back legs had collapsed under it. She crawled around and spotted Alden lying still on his back, angry red marks on his chest and abdomen and blood pooling around the back of his head. Tindómiel began to panic, panting fast, shallow breaths. She felt the blood. It was warm and slightly sticky, but it hadn't hardened. She couldn't have been out too long. She crawled over to Alden, staining her frock in the pool, and shook his shoulders. "No, no, no, no …"

Outside, she heard the tromp of boots and the clatter of armor. "Hold," came a voice. "I shall call if I need you." The door swung open and Tindómiel looked up. In strode a woman clad head to toe in gleaming armor, a blue tassel hanging from her helmet, a red cape from her shoulders, a sword from her belt, and a shield from her arm. As soon as the Queen of Mendev saw Tindómiel and Alden on the ground, she dropped her shield and knelt next to the wounded man. Tindómiel thanked her stars she was already on her knees.

"Tell me what happened, my child," said the Queen. She took off a gauntlet and gently felt the back of Alden's head.

"I—I don't know, Your Majesty." Tindómiel gulped back guilty tears. "He told me … something, and I couldn't bear it. I got really mad, and started floating, and there was a bright light—"

"We could see it from the Cathedral," the Queen replied calmly. Tindómiel glanced at the window. From this angle she could see the majestic white spire of the nearby Cruciform Cathedral. She didn't need to see the serried ranks of crusaders waiting outside her door; she knew they were there, and the image alone gave her pause. Tindómiel looked back at the Queen. She'd placed her gauntleted hand on Alden's heart now, and both hands pulsed with soft, golden light. "Bring my shield," she commanded. Tindómiel did, and helped the Queen roll Alden onto it.

"Does this mean he'll be alright?"

"Yes, my child. But he will need to rest. Will you help me take him back to the Cathedral?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." Tindómiel had to scrabble and strain to lift her end of the shield, but she managed. She paused, however, before the door. "Am I in trouble?"

"No," said the Queen, turning to look fully at Tindómiel. "It was an accident. You have a rare and precious gift, and I believe you can tame it through focus and study." There was an edge to her words, but Tindómiel could tell it wasn't directed at her. It was like the Queen had something to prove.

"Will you help?"

"As much as I can." The Queen smiled beatifically. "If I read the signs right, though, your friend can help you more. Do you want to be there when he wakes up?"

Tindómiel nodded. "And say I'm sorry." The Queen gave her an approving look. "Does that mean I can stay at the Cathedral?"

"For as long as you like."

* * * Nerosyan, 4682 AR * * *
Tindómiel gripped the hilt of her sword tight in both hands, stepped forward solidly, and planted the tip of the blade in the straw training dummy's face. It bounced off, like it always did. “Ugh!" she groaned, and looked to the rear of the training ground. "What am I doing wrong?"

Alden ran a hand through his thinning hair. "We've been down this road before, Morrow. You're just not putting enough oomph into it."

"But all the books say power comes from the stance!" recited Tindómiel. "I know I have that. I measured."

"Do you think maybe you've just reached your limit?" said Alden delicately. She had. The possibility scared her.

"It's just … I want to be just like Queen Galfrey. How can I do that if I can't fight?"

"I should be offended," chuckled Alden, "but you should have a role model even if it's not me." He crossed his arms. "Tell me why you want to be like her."

Tindómiel's ears twitched. "That's easy! She's kind, and wise, and giving …" Alden raised an eyebrow. Of course he knew there was more. "And she's been around for as long as I can remember and isn't going anywhere," she said in a small voice.

"I see," said Alden, just as softly. He looked down at his yellow-stained fingertips for a moment, then fixed his eyes on Tindómiel again. "And what, pray tell, did any of that have to do with swordplay?"

"Well? How else do you protect people?"

"However you can. Think of it like a problem to be solved." He reached down, picked up a bit of loose straw from the ground, and handed it to Tindómiel. "There is your problem," he said, pointing to the training dummy. "Solve it."

Tindómiel looked down at the stalk. It drooped in her hand. Surely Alden did not mean for her to stab the dummy with it. She pulled a leather-bound book halfway from a pouch at her side, and looked hesitantly at Alden. He kept his face impassive, so she finished pulling it out and started leafing through the pages. It wasn't long before she found what she was looking for. She muttered the instructions a few times to make sure she'd remember them, then put the book away, grasped the ends of the straw in both hands, and snapped it in half twice. On the second snap, her eyes flashed and the twine holding the dummy together snapped.

"Very good," laughed Alden. "Now put it back together or Esmé will have my hide." Tindómiel immediately scrambled to pick up sheaves of straw, bundling them under her arm before they blew away. "I'll help," Alden reminded her, and set to work.

"Speaking of Esmé," he said, "the priest told us the sex of the baby today."

"Ooh, congratulations!" Tindómiel somehow managed to clap a few times without dropping any straw. "Can you tell me?"

Alden nodded. "It's a girl. As such … we want you for godmother."

Tindómiel's ears twitched. "I'm honored, thank you. … But are you sure? In a little while she'll be older than me—" Alden held up his hand.

"That just means you'll be very good friends. And you won't leave her." Tindómiel's eyes widened at her words being thrown back at her. "We're sure."

Tindómiel clapped her hands again and did a little skip. "Yes, yes, yes—oh! Did you pick a name?"

"It's Lylina."

* * * Nerosyan, 4709 AR * * *
The priest raised his hands from his position behind the casket. "Blessed is she, beyond any blessing and song, praise and consolation that are uttered in the world. Now say:"

"Amen," muttered Tindómiel and Lylina, along with the rest of the congregation. "He would have been glad you came," whispered Tindómiel as people around them picked up their coats to leave.

"I know," said Lylina. "Thank you for insisting. How did he go?"

"Nodules in his lungs. They couldn't do anything."

Lylina snorted. "Always with that damned pipe."

Tindómiel looked critically at her friend. "That wasn't why you left, though, was it?"

"No." She folded her hands in her lap. "He gave up being a Riftwarden for you."

"For you too." It was pointless to deny that Tindómiel had come before her friend. That was just how the world had decided to order things. But Alden hadn't really settled down until he met Esmé and they'd started a family.

"Whatever. But you know how important it is. I couldn't just let it go."

Tindómiel nodded. "I know people give their lives for it." She sighed. "Does that mean you'll be going back to Kenabres after the funeral?"

"I'm gonna leave Mendev for a while, actually." Tindómiel looked crestfallen. "Not forever. I just don't wanna get stuck in a rut. And the River Kingdoms and Galt might have things worth bringing back."

"Just be careful?"

"For you, ainemya." Lylina laughed wetly, and they hugged. "The Blackwing's gonna be looking for my replacement," said Lylina when they let go. "Do you wanna go to Kenabres when this is over? I know how much you like libraries. Maybe make a few friends besides me?"

Tindómiel glanced at the casket. "Can I think about it?" Apart from … everything else, she knew Lylina had to lay low sometimes during the city's sporadic witchhunts.

"Don't be like that. Besides," teased Lylina. "Terendelev lives there, so you'll still have a hero to worship."

Tindómiel blushed. "Fine, I'll go!"

When he was young he was born on a vast estate of a Lord Ackles. Born into the slave class of cheliax (although I can alter this to anywhere that would be convenient). His family was under this mans vampiric spell. His family being the subjects of sadistic experiments of the fiend. They were exposed to lycanthropy to become more akin to the creatures his lord preferred.

When the towns folk finally became aware of the immortal nature of his lord they came knocking at his door step with flames and pitchforks. Mistaking the mutated and twisted servants as spawn of Ackles, they proceeded to slay them viciously before the boys eyes, though they never did find his Master.

Happening upon the boy one of the locals named Gravous Lector took the unremarkable child in, thinking it a miracle that this innocent has been spared the ravages of this cursed place.

Then puberty hit... and the boy was at school when another boy had heard of Cruentus's beginnings and began bullying the thin, pale, large eared, bug eyed boy, and had went too far. He and his friends beat Cruentus within an inch of his life and then all of a sudden his latent genes kicked in.

Growing a maw of razor sharp teeth, his jaw elongating, his nose flattening, appendages becoming longer and more lithe, and his eyes turned milk white. Cruentus lashed out at the boy grabbing him like he had seen his old master do to so many, wrenching his head to the side and sinking his awful teeth into the vein of that ignorant boy.
Cruentus had his first taste of blood that day. A taste that would haunt him, not just because he had killed a human being, but because he had enjoyed it. After he had realized the horror of what he had done Cruentus ran. He ran into the woods to a place he often went when he felt out of sorts.

Scared, tired, and alone Cruentus didn't know what to do and finally decided to go home. When he returned though he was not greeted by the loving arms of his adopted father, but rather the burning flames of what used to be his home, accompanied by the screams of his adopted family.

Fortunately for the townsfolk Gravous was a kind a loving father and had instilled in the boy a solid moral base. Though embittered, Cruentus was intelligent and understood why the townsfolk reacted the way they did. He blamed only two people for his family's death, himself and Ackles. With his guilt, new found blood thirst, and need for revenge, he made a vow. He would seek out his old Master and make him pay for this curse and his family's death.