
Akula the Herald |

Doomed Hero here.
My Warpriest is coming along nicely. Most of the mechanical stuff is complete. I haven't started the background info yet, but I wanted to get a post in with the Avatar.
I've taken Divine Obedience as my first level feat (I'm intending to eventually become an Evangelist). The entry on Valthyra doesn't have a Divine Obedience listed yet, but I'm loving your homebrew stuff so far. I'm guessing I'll like whatever you come up with. I don't expect to have mechanics for it now. It's a moot point if I don't get picked.

ChloePech |

I'm a bit late to this party, but I read this yesterday, saw everything, and just... had an idea for a character that I couldn't put down. Even if its for naught, I really enjoyed making this character, hot damn. Obviously incomplete, let me know if there's anything major I missed or any questions you have...
Actually, a question from my end. I kinda arbitrarily picked Pyrae as a place of birth since its a place an Investigator might have come from, at least from a surface level glance of many of the locales. Let me know if any of this contradicts some aspect of Pyrae culture or whatnot, and if theres a better place for Maria to be from.
Full Name: Maria Notburga Riedgasse (I bet its not hard to figure out where I'm from :p)
After the death of her father Reinhardt when she was sixteen and the death of her mother Hermine less than a year later, custody of Maria fell to her brother Edgar. Regarded as unfit for independent life on account of her fragile disposition by her parents, it fell to Edgar, only two years her elder, to take of his eccentric sister and her numerous bizarre needs. Yet she was brilliant when it came to the reactions of the various powders and solutions she tinkered with, and soon it was her work which Edgar was able to pay debtors off with. The sister he once resented became a lucrative asset to him, provided he kept her content and out of public view.
Maria was more than aware of her brother’s exploitation of her work, but provided he generally kept her in good care and left her to her work, she was content with the situation, allowing him to manage their household. Yet as time passed, she began to expand to assisting various wealthy patrons with alchemical remedies, investigations (it was claimed she could identify a single footprint of an individual in a busy street), and making a brief stint as a research assistant. Her reputation for her success was matched only by her reputation as being socially incompetent and prone to outbursts, as well as her strange requests for working conditions.
Maria’s only close relationship has been to her brother, and they became separated during the Shaping, when Edgar and Maria were away from their home in Pyrae visiting the Earthenwork for some business of Edgar’s; when the king transported those survivors, Maria did not find her brother among them. She brought with her a decent sum of money, her alchemical supplies, rations, and a silver-hilted rapier decorated with etchings of vines and roses that has been passed down her family for generations, according to her mother.
Maria values straitforwardness above all else, and struggles with spoken figurative language (however, in writing this is less a struggle for her; she can understand figurative language, she simply needs to expect its use to pick up on it). She dislikes communicating unless directly beneficial. Having little experience with money, Maria may be less charitable and instead be simply naïve, but she has little attachment to money she does not need. Her brief experiences with violence and the books she has read have led here to a black and white morality, where brutal force is justified against those harming others but completely indefensible against the innocent; both being ambiguous at best.
Maria is paler than many due to spending most of her life indoors; her straw-blonde hair disheveled and prone to sticking up and about even when kept in a tight bun. Her blue eyes are somewhere between wild and tired, constantly looking about from beneath low-hanging lids and above deep, dark bags. Her nose is pronounced with a large bridge. She has scarring above her right breast and on her right forearm from a chemical mishap.
For now, I have a link to the detailed sheet right here that I'll get ported over to this site tomorrow at some point. This really is an interesting world you have here!!! (If you hover over feats and othersuch things it'll show the descriptions as copy pasted from the srd)

Sam C. |

@Chloe: Pyrae hasn't really been fleshed out as far as details go. However, it was a major plot location in the BT campaign, where the party was required to travel to in order to find the Hazard of Necromancy, Sivantanpisil.
Pyrae was utterly wrecked, between the effects of the Shaping and the resulting surge of (re)animated dead overwhelming the shattered city almost immediately afterward. What few survivors of these twin blows remained were relocated to Eastgate by the Hazard while the party was off doing the relevant plot bits in the Tower of Necromancy. So while she may find people that she knew in Pyrae now squatting in Talanor (or Eastgate), it's likely to a bare handful at best.
I'll repeat a recommendation I made to JonGarrett: spend as much of your starting funds as you can manage, because it'll be increasingly unlikely that your coin will be worth anything as the campaign goes on. I see you want to make use of alchemy? Aside from buying ready-made goods of that sort, you may want to consider investing coin in a stockpile of generic ingredients; Valjoen has allowed this in the BT campaign with a weight of 1 pound per 100gp of raw material (or 0.5 pounds per 50gp, for smaller quantities). And that valuation is the market price of the raw material, so even under the standard Craft rules--where you pay 1/3 of the finished product's cost in material--you'll get good mileage out of a modest stockpile.
However, he's allowed the use of the Unchained Crafting rules, so you'll actually be able to stretch that further still due to needing only 1/4 the finished product's cost in material.
(And a further rules addition currently under his consideration is the Alchemy Manual's spontaneous rules, so reagents are something else to keep in mind.)

ChloePech |

Ah, I didnt see that reccomendation! I figured I'd keep a stockpile just in case- I've been on campaigns where not having a good chunk of change screwed us- I could probably invest at least part of it into generic materials then. I'm not the most familiar with the alchemy rules compared to the other crafting rules (I've played a witch, thats the closest I've gotten) but I'm reviewing them as I figure this character out. Buying a good amount of raw material seems like a good idea and a weight-efficent use of gold. Probably also grab a masterwork chain shirt instead of studded leather then. Thanks for the advice!!
(Actually, now that I think about it, I'm awfully close to a mithral chain shirt... hmmmmm. I dont imagine I'd be able to just buy one of those, though, so I should probably just spend my money)
(Oh wait between traits and masterwork I dont need to worry about proficency I can just grab a chain coat thats rad as heck)

Sam C. |

Yeah, this isn't one those campaigns :D, not anymore. Spend it or you might as well load it into a sack and use it as an ersatz club to beat things with. Food, survival gear (cold weather stuff in particular), and basically anything consumable is the solid bet for purchases here. Because, thanks to the Shaping, those are going to be the hardest to acquire or replace during play. That's not to say you won't find anything, Valjoen isn't that sort of GM, but you'll almost certainly have negotiate (for non-hostiles) or kill (for everything else) to replenish your supplies. (Which can be fun, in its own way. My BT character has developed a fixation on his party's supply situation, which occasionally verges the unhealthy, and sometime manifests as a marked willingness to do some rather poorly-considered things to maintain or increase their assets. Like, for instance, challenge something that the clans in the First Lands don't really want to speak about in casual conversation, because that something might have what he needs to make the party better off :D.)
And no, special materials aren't available to start. But, a character in the BT campaign with an interest in crafting is looking for ways to add special material--or at least, metals--to existing items to grant those items the properties of the material in question. The only real clue he has so far is that he likely needs the Hazard of Transmutation (who hasn't been found yet) to make this happen or even get a starting point to work from. It could be that there are other methods available to make that happen though, and since one of the applicants is a Forgemaster, that might be another route. Aside from that possibility, if you really need a special material whatever for your character, Valjoen is quite willing to work out a way by which you can acquire it during play.

Valjoen_GM |

@ChloePech - Thanks for the interest. Interesting and quirky character! You're character sheet
@All - I have only skimmed the characters so far. I'll give people until 9am CST this coming Monday, January 28th, to dot the thread if you are interested in playing, and then ask for final submissions to be completed by 9am CST on Monday, February 3rd.
I know several of you have asked about things that require some work on my part. I will be working on that as quickly as I can. Please expect it at the beginning of next week... possibly before.
Please note the bonus feats and modified feats on the wiki. Additionally, I have worked out some customizations to spell access for several but not all classes. Check out Wizard for an example. I will work with the players on those rules as time is available, but not necessarily before the submission deadline.
Please let me know if I've missed anything here.
Applicant List
Completed Applications
Apoc Golem --> Randall Shadowcrown: Tiefling (Asura-Spawn Custom Variant) Rogue 1/Monk (Softstrike Monk) 1; Worshipper of Lorrÿndol
ChloePech --> Maria Notburga Riedgasse: Human Investigator (Empiricist); Worshipper of ??
Ixos --> Ysildaë Ralomenor: Aasimar (Muse Touched) Monk (Scaled Fist) 1/Samurai (Warrior Poet) 1
JonGarrett --> Muraisa: Half-Elf (Firebird Clan) Barbarian 2 (Drunken Brute)
In Progress Applications
Alias ad Tempus --> [Name?]: Dwarven Cleric (Forgemaster); Worshiper of Valthyra
BloodPaw --> [Name?]: Aasimar (Angelesque Jackal Custom Variant) Paladin 2 (Temple Champion); Worshipper of Selefahn (S.O.E.?)
Doomed Hero --> Akula the Herald: Half-Orc Warpriest of Valthyra
Shown Interest
Kayne Rhal --> Dotted
Sbodd --> Dotted

Valjoen_GM |

@BloodPaw - I need to make the custom Aasimar variant for you. I'm assuming you want the ability bonuses of the angel variant (+2 Str & +2 Chr); you're dropping the SLA for the variant ability (+2 Wis); and have it connected to Jackals and the after life & plane of bone of Selefahn's making, correct? Are you good with using the ancient Khesyta culture I referenced below as the origin point of the celestial beings from which you descended?

Niyut |
1 person marked this as a favorite. |

@ChloePech: I would check in with the GM about naming conventions of the various strains of humanity. Pyrae was a free city whose leadership was disgraced lesser nobles back in the day. However, geographically it is smack-dab in the cultural area of the Braonins. They have names like Críodan, Aíbell, Áillís Uí Lonagáin, etc. Names like Reinhardt would suggest to me an Aerten background. So it could be that while you are from Pyrae your ancestors immigrated from Haemil a generation or more ago.

Apoc Golem |

@Sam C: You laugh, but I legitimately had an inquisitor in my old homebrew game who used a giant sack of doorknobs as a weapon. He was... somewhat eccentric. Eventually he said he wanted to enhance it with magic. Normally you can't with an improvised weapon, but I loved the image of a crazy old man braining people with 20lbs of doorknobs so I let it happen.
@Valjoen: I'm stuck in class at the moment, but once I get home this afternoon, I'll post Randall's history. BloodPaw and I are PMing to set up the details of how Randall and Sautekh know each other; once that's done, I'll post that as well (at least, the info for Randall's side). :)

ChloePech |

helpful stuff
Thank you! I was looking for this but struggled to find it; thats perfect and a great solution!!! So the family is from Haemil but has lived in Pyrae for generations. Awesome!!
I just picked where I figured the character could be from, and someone like her brother (who is shady af, just not from Maria's perspective) in particular. Yall are amazingly helpful with this stuff :o

Niyut |
1 person marked this as a favorite. |

I just picked where I figured the character could be from, and someone like her brother (who is shady af, just not from Maria's perspective) in particular. Yall are amazingly helpful with this stuff :o
Pyrae was a shady place. A place where slavery was legal (gross) and if something could be purchased it could purchased here (likely gross). This shadiness extended into politics and also into the general history. Basalt Rising was created when Calledrym, King of the Gods, slew his brother, Kiravor, the god of death. This likely drew the Hazards of Necromancy to the area. For the first ten such Hazards, they all claimed to be the first Hazard of Necromancy. (Not a body switching scheme. I asked.) They got progressively naughtier until the tenth such Hazard got really naughty. When he "disappeared"/"died"/"failed to become a lich"/"some other nightmare scenario" Basalt Rising stopped spitting fire and started spitting up undead. I would eat my shawl if the two are unrelated.
Just some background on your hometown.

ChloePech |

More stuff
I knew about the events, but not the relations to the deities; stories about anyone around the Basalt after dark becoming undead and such. Pyrae sounds like it was a shitty place to live even before it was essentially destroyed, which fits perfectly. Thanks for the additional information!!

Apoc Golem |

Okay, here goes!
From the time he can remember to about six years old, he traveled with Uncle Kronis overland to deliver dried goods to outlying villages around the Vale of Talanor, particularly the mountains east of The Picks, and the outskirts of Aspenwood. Rand was too young to know anything about his uncle, and had almost no interaction with others. His uncle kept him away from other children; he was too young to understand why, only that the kids he saw looked markedly different from him. None of them had tails, or olive skin, or black eyes. None of them had the first hints of strange white lines on their skin making frightful geometries.
During a caravan ride into the foothills of the mountains outside The Picks, they were stopped by a fearsome, horrific presence. It spoke in a language that crawled about inside Rand’s little head, leaving a trail of psychic slime wherever the words skittered between his ears. It made him want to vomit just hearing it. Worse, he could understand it.
THIS ONE HAS COME FOR THE PROGENY.
His uncle stroked his salt-and-pepper beard, twilight shining off his bald pate as he looked sternly at the towering figure before him. Vaguely human in form, but with far too many arms, and bedecked in resplendent armor and some sort of terrifying silver mask. Uncle Kronis, however, seemed unperturbed.
”You can not have him,” he said.
YOUR PERMISSION IS NOT REQUIRED. DELIVER HIM OR PERISH TO OBLIVION.
Kronis smiled. ”You may try.”
What happened next was not granted the reprieve of a child’s memory; there is no vagueness or fragmentation in Randall’s mind. Like so many victims of trauma, it is acid-etched onto the inside of his skull.
One of the caravan guards, a stern-faced middle-aged woman with steel gray hair, shoved a dagger into his hands and told him to run, hide. Rand looked back to see the creature eviscerating guards left and right; but Uncle Kronis stood his ground, going toe to toe with the monstrosity with lightning palm strikes and kicks. Rand made it to a switchback before something heavy bounced off the trail above him and landed just ahead. He ran past his uncle’s sightless eyes and ragged stump of a neck, and hastened screaming into the shadowy dusk.
He found his way to a cave and hid there for three days. At dusk on the second day, the towering creature appeared before the cave entrance. Randall did his best to cower behind a rock and make himself as small as possible, clutching feebly at his tail to keep it from whipping about absently, as it was wont to do.
After several minutes of dead silence, Rand heard it speak.
YOU CAN NOT HIDE FROM THIS ONE FOREVER, LITTLE SPAWN.
Rand squeezed his eyes shut, tears streaming down his dirty face, and willed with all his might for the thing to leave.
It did not.
YOU HAVE A GREAT DESTINY, LITTLE SPAWN. IT IS OUR TIME. THE ASURA SHALL TEAR THE EALITAINE FROM THEIR GILDED THRONES AND EAT THEIR SOULS TO MAKE THEIR POWER OURS.
Rand had no idea what any of that meant. He only whimpered silently. Please, someone, make it go away. Make it leave me alone…
YOU HAVE A GREAT ROLE TO PLAY, LITTLE SPAWN.
A heavy, dull thud as a footstep touched the rocky dirt inside the cave. Please, please, make it go away…
WE SHALL UNDO ALL THE GODS HAVE CREATED, LITTLE SPAWN. THIS ONE HAS FORESEEN IT.
Please…
YOU SHALL BE OUR HERALD IN THIS REALM. IT IS A GAPING WOUND THAT SUCKERS AND BLEEDS. YOU SHALL BE THE SPEAR THAT PENETRATES AND ENDS ITS SUFFERING.
Please…
YOU ARE THE SPAWN OF ASURA-RANHA. GRAND-CHILD TO THE SUN EATER. TO ME. THIS IS YOUR DESTINY. COME TO YOUR DESTINY, LITTLE SPAWN.
no no no no no no no
ACCEPT--
The creature never finished its thought. A long, ugly, pregnant pause infested the cavern. After an interminable amount of time, it said, VERY WELL. THIS ONE WILL RETURN FOR YOU WHEN YOU ARE PREPARED.
And just as it had begun, a heavy, oppressive weight lifted from Rand’s shoulders. A minute passed, two, three. Finally he peeked out from his hiding place. The cavern was dark and empty. The sun had vanished behind the horizon, and night had begun to creep into the land.
Even after leaving the cave, it was two days on foot to the base of the mountains and the town known as The Picks. He ate dirt by the handful, and drank from river streams. Sadly, he was no outdoorsman, and didn’t know the danger of the act. He became terribly ill over the next day, vomiting and loosing his bowels constantly.
When he arrived in The Picks, he was a sorry sight: an inhuman child, covered in dirt, bruises, and excrement, violently ill and alone in the world.
Not a single adult came to his aid. They shooed him off at best, and chased him with weapons at worst. He cowered in abandoned buildings, growing sicker and sicker by the day, until finally an angel appeared in the shape of another boy: Ezekiel.
Ezekiel was Rand’s elder by two years, tall where Rand was short, stocky where Rand was ropey. His skin was dark but his hair was shock-white. When he found Randall, he was flanked by two smaller boys. He dug a vial out of one of his many pockets and shoved it at Randall. ”Drink this.” His tone brooked no argument. Nearly witless, Rand gave no thought and obeyed. ”Medicine. I’m Ezekiel. You call me Zeke.” Randall could do nothing to respond but nod absently. Zeke slid a pair of strange goggles off his forehead and handed them to Randall. ”These help me see how things work. Maybe they’ll help you see how The Picks work. I’ll try to keep you alive until then.” Randall clutched them to his breast like a drowning man to a lifeline.
The alchemical balm Zeke had given him eventually helped Rand recover from his illness. Zeke led a small group of urchins who leaned on each other to survive in The Picks. It was hardly as run-down and seedy as The Point, but the Picks still had its share of poverty. The boys were the ones society had left behind due to some curse of birth: deformities, impoverished parents who had died with no relatives, even three children who were the lone survivors of an orphanage fire the year before. They called themselves the Castoffs, and Zeke led them all, kept them fed, found new places to hide--warehouses, condemned homes, even caverns in the foothills when needed. They would sleep huddled together in the winter for warmth, and out under the stars in the summer. It was a hard life, and usually an ugly one, but there are moments on which Rand looks back fondly.
Rand asked around and found the young man’s location. They found him headless the next day; his head turned up a day later on a spike outside the rival gang’s hideout. Nobody dared to mess with the Castoffs for years after that, and Randall found himself in a de facto leadership position. It also put him into the city guard’s crosshairs.
Despite being a wanted man, and despite the fact that The Picks wasn’t the largest city in the world, Randall was methodical and careful. He never let himself be out in the open without hiding his identity and - more importantly - his fiendish ancestry. He evaded the law for six years. But his good fortune finally ran afoul of his morbid curiosity.
After learning a rival gang was after a prime piece of real estate for squatting, one that supposedly had food and excellent shelter, Rand was immediately suspicious. As it turned out, he was right to be suspicious. He cased the warehouse during the day and found it to be the lair of a group of bandits, bad-news creeps who didn’t just rob and kill, but also dealt in corpses, taking the bodies of their victims and selling them on the side to necromancers, death cultists, anyone who would pay coin for them. Rand knew the place was a death sentence; the rival gang didn’t.
Rand spread a subtle rumor that the Castoffs were going to take up the place soon, and the rivals should get there first. It worked; Rand snuck back to the warehouse to watch the scene unfold. It was a bloodbath; the bandits murdered the rivals - most of whom were no older than sixteen - with a level of brutality Rand had only seen once before, at his own hands.
He looked away from the window, unable to stomach it anymore.
The things the men were doing to the rival boys in there… Rand had done that, once. He still saw the boy’s face when he closed his eyes, sometimes. But he’d comforted himself by claiming it was retaliation for his friend’s death. It wasn’t murder; it was retribution.
Now he watched kids barely younger than himself, kids who’d grown up on the streets with nothing but each other, just like himself, get murdered and worse. And was responsible.
His hands shook, and his stomach clenched violently. He was too busy vomiting to notice the city watch bearing down on him, reinforced with men and women in brightly polished armor, bearing a sigil with which he was unfamiliar. He turned and stumbled away, but he wasn’t nearly fast enough in his condition. They’d caught him at last.[/spiral]
[spoiler=Reciprocity]Rand languished in a cell for three days awaiting sentencing. When someone finally came for him, it wasn’t a guard. It wasn’t anyone from the city watch at all, in fact.
A short, withered old man appeared in front of Randall’s cell. He couldn’t have been taller than five-five, and probably weighed one-twenty soaking wet. His long white hair was pulled back in a tight braid, and his eyes were completely milked over with cataract. He leaned heavily on a gnarled oak cane with a bulbous knot at the head, and smiled serenely at the tiefling. Rand might have called the look vapid, but he immediately suspected there was more to this little old man than met the eye.
”Hallo!” he called jovially. ”You must be Randall.”
Randall’s eyes narrowed. ”Depends on who’s askin’.”
The old man snorted. ”I am.”
”Who’s ‘I am’?” Rand sneered.
The old man blew a puff of air dramatically. ”Oh, well now. That is the question, isn’t it?” He blinked mildly. ”Or were you asking my name?”
Rand rolled his eyes. ”Yeah, okay. This is city jail, friend. Looney bin’s over in Outlander’s Grove. Happy trails.” He rolled over on his cot and closed his eyes.
”My name,” the old man said in a quiet, powerful tone, “is Shiro Jonetsu. You will address me as ‘Master’ from this point on, until such time as you earn that title yourself.”
Randall rolled back over and stared at the old man. ”The hells are you talking about?”
”I am your master. You are my pupil. That is the way of it. Your only alternative is death.”
Rand scowled. ”Maybe I’d rather take death.”
The old man’s face softened again. ”No, you would not. Death, for you, would be the coward’s escape. You have done terrible things. They haunt you. Death would free you from that burden, but you have not earned that right yet. And you know it.” He rapped his cane once against the floor. ”That is why you will come with me. You will learn to fight, and you will learn history. And you will learn the mysteries of Lorÿndol. And day by day, you will work to atone for your sins. And, one day, you may earn true peace. But that day is not today.”
Randall stared at him, speechless. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Finally, he said, ”When do we start?”
”Eventually, he could bear it no longer, and revealed it to a small group of friends. But when he opened the chest to show him, a bright rainbow of colorful butterflies spewed forth instead, filling the room with dazzling brilliance, before escaping out a window and into the bright dawn. His friends were overjoyed at the beautiful display, but the lotus was gone.
”Dismayed and ashamed, Solinthol admitted to Lorÿndol what had happened, but instead of being angry, Lorÿndol smiled. ‘You see,’ he said. ‘There is beauty hidden in the world, but once exposed to others, it is forever changed. Yet this change can also be beautiful too. It is the fate of mortalkind to forever change. Find beauty in it, and you will know peace.’
”That is why this monastery is called Blue Lotus. Like that fateful flower, those who come here are cultivated, made beautiful in their strength of will and flexible in their thinking, then sent into the world, both to change themselves and those whose lives they touch with blessed Lorÿndol’s teachings.”
Rand was not well-liked by the other ascetics at the monastery. He was brash, impatient, short-tempered, and perhaps most damning of all, he was talkative. He talked when he was nervous, and that grand chapel to Lorÿndol, with its dark, imposing stone walls, made him ridiculously nervous, particularly in the beginning.
Two years ago, Master Shiro Jonetsu sent Randall out into the world with his blessing -- and a gift. One of the oldest tomes in the monastery’s impressive library on the teachings of Lorÿndol: The Five Perfections. Randall reads it studiously, but its scripture is so dense and obscure that at times, Rand wonders if it was written by a madman, or someone in a fever dream. Yet he continues to study as he journeys through the world; not so much out of piety, but for a sense of stability. A routine that grounds him when the world gets just a little too crazy (which seems to happen often, particularly for him).
And every day, Rand throws himself at the problems of others. Stopping bandits, feeding the poor, tending a sick child, fending off wild animals from a frontier farm. Every time, he subdues when he can; he wants no more blood on his hands. He doesn’t think he could stomach it. So far, he has not found the peace Master Jonetsu spoke of, but he searches desperately every day.

Valjoen_GM |

@ChloePech: I would check in with the GM about naming conventions of the various strains of humanity. Pyrae was a free city whose leadership was disgraced lesser nobles back in the day. However, geographically it is smack-dab in the cultural area of the Braonins. They have names like Críodan, Aíbell, Áillís Uí Lonagáin, etc. Names like Reinhardt would suggest to me an Aerten background. So it could be that while you are from Pyrae your ancestors immigrated from Haemil a generation or more ago.
Correct. The city is a hodgepodge of cultures that built up around the sacred site of the Basalt Rising, as Niyut noted. One of the first to visit and establish a presence after the Godling Wards was the Broanin whose naming convention is based off Celtic (Irish) names. The Aertens from Haemil names are Frankish in origin with some straight German thrown in. With that said, being descended from the Aertens and being in Haemil "on business" at the time of the Shaping would make sense given your backstory.

Niyut |

Asura haven't come up yet in the other campaign. I'm guessing that they are either divine mistakes in the classic sense or they are mistakes that come from inappropriate pairings amongst the gods. Speculatively, if a thing is called the Sun-Eater, either when Gaeruhn ate the sun it was a "mistake" or, in eating the sun, Gaeruhn's thought mixed with Vra'lithe's thought in an inappropriate way to create a godling.
GM, can you give us some cosmological insight?

Apoc Golem |

Clearly you've never had their chalupas. *cue Groucho eyebrow wiggle*
Since the Sun Eater is one of the Asura Ranhas, it's likely old as heck, so it would make sense that it came from an event that happened in times of mythos. (At least I'm assuming that was a long time ago; it has the air of a creation myth to it.)
I don't know why the Sun Eater caught my attention out of all the Asura Ranhas. Maybe rogue -> shadows -> sunless, or something similar. It's definitely an evocative moniker.

Niyut |

Well, he would be a rare cross over since the demigods and gods of Pathfinder don't usually exist in this cosmology. We have a wizard that used to curse by the Nine Hells. It was very distracting. :-p So this Sun-Eater would need his own history.
There is an excellent timeline on the wiki that detail in broad strokes what happened on the western side of the Iron mountains going from the age of myth to better recorded history. Things that are recorded there before the advent of the calendar did happen and in that order. But, obviously, it is not the entire story.

Apoc Golem |

I'm not sure the Asura Ranhas are demigods per se. As far as I understand it, they're equivalent in power to the demon lords, which are very much mortal, just obscenely powerful. (I've heard you actually fight a couple of them in Wrath of the Righteous, which is terrifying to contemplate.)
But I think the demon lords have domains and can grant divine spellcasting, so maybe they are demigods? That's always been a little hazy for me. I know for sure the Horsemen (the Daemon equivalent) and the Dukes of Hell are equivalent in power and they all grant spells, so I guess they probably are.
At any rate, I apologize to Valjoen for adding more work on his plate! Unless you want me to write it out, which I'm happy to do. It sounds like he lets players give input to help flesh out the world? I'd be totally excited to do that! ^_^

Maria Riedgasse |

I've made this; everything should be there and linked!!! Except for the gear; that'd be a nightmare for everyone. Subject to change of course yadda yadda.
I could NOT find a good pic that represents how I imagine Maria looks, so this slightly different artstyle one is the closest I could find.
And on the Demon Lords, I'm pretty sure all of them in Pathfinder are demigods with the exception of Lamashtu who is a full-fledged god. But thats less than relevant to this setting :p
Godlings, from a cursory glance, seem neat.
@Doomed
Don't forget the feats you get from Here.

Apoc Golem |

True. I was mainly trying to figure out relative power equivalents based on the books I have, not necessarily what they would be in this setting. That would be up to Valjoen, of course. Mostly it was me trying to tell if Sun Eater would be a godling or not. I was going to say no, but considering demon lords (the rough equivalent, CR wise) are demigods then I suppose the ranhas must be too. I have some ideas there. Maybe I can run it by the GM when I'm done with work. :)

Alias ad Tempus |

Putting the finishing touches on an outline of the character's background... Question: should my dwarf hate goblins, undead, or something else entirely? This may seem like a question of optimization, but I find it generally engaging to be facing hated enemies – especially at the beginning of a campaign!

Sam C. |

@Alias: If your dwarf hails from Eastgate, then goblins are the go-to enemy right now, the BT campaign actually had an early portion dealing with their attempt to invade the works through the defenses shattered--and casualties inflicted--by the Shaping. It was, barely, beaten back. But I doubt very much that they've stopped their efforts to get in and take over.
There were also encounters with flame drakes toward the end of the Eastgate portion; we literally raced those f$!!ers to the exit, with a horde of goblins baying along on the ground below them.

Sam C. |

Hundreds of undead have been destroyed, thousands likely remain.
This. Talanor had a hefty population, never mind the people just visiting for whatever reasons, when the Shaping hit it. Even if only, as a round-number estimate, 10% of that number got converted into animated meat, that's a LOT of bodies, or things that used to have bodies, shuffling around through the city. And that doesn't even account for non-humanoids getting turned; we came close to an early TPK (like, just after leaving the Bright Tower-early) due to a single swarm of undead rats that we just couldn't successfully nail. If it hadn't been for some damned lucky rolls, endless cantrips, and some splash weapons...

Akula the Herald |

Also, @ Akula the Herald: perhaps there is room for an odd and surprising friendship between a Dwarven Forgemaster and an Orcish Forgepriest?
Absolutely. Lets hold off on those details until after the selection process is finished though. I love the idea, but it's only relevant if we both make it in.

Alias ad Tempus |

Something like this...?
In the deepest and most ancient halls of Kahae Edhekal, the esteemed Forgemasters Guild has long kept the fire of Valthyra burning in the sacred forge. To guard their secrets, the Forgemasters have always remained isolated from the outside world. But many believe that this is no longer possible…
Born into the revered Clan Highhammer, Toraim, son of Dwarkar, was fated to follow in the footsteps of his ancestors and, in true Dwarven fashion, he never doubted his destiny. His childhood was typical, if perhaps stricter than most. As is right and proper, he began his apprenticeship on his 25th birthday. And when he became an adult at 50, he embraced his responsibilities and married.
He became a proud and dedicated smith, an honorable father and husband, and he never imagined another life. But soon, the Shaping changed everything. When the Fire Goblins, emboldened by the chaos caused by the Shaping, took the Halls of Mourning and the Crypts, the Fire of Valthyra, which burned below, was extinguished. Few of the Forgemasters survived the surprise attack, and Toraim only barely escaped. The event left Toraim scarred and would haunt his dreams for years to come.
The Forgemaster’s Guild fell into chaos. Most of the elders believed that the smiths should remain isolated and dedicate themselves exclusively to their craft. But the younger members – Toraim in particular – advocated that they must fight alongside their kinsmen and the outsiders.
Despite the protestations of his wife and clansmen, Toraim was among the first of the Forgemasters to don his armour and leave the relative safety that his position allowed, to fight against the hordes of undead that had invaded Oldtown. He deemed that it was his duty to defend his people against all the odds, and to fight until the sacred forge could be reclaimed.
These battles against the undead would prove the anvil on which the steel of his resolve would be tested.
Characteristics selfless, merciless, truthful (honest and pragmatic), and greedy (but no more so than a typical dwarf!); deliberate and focused; confident, yet vigilant.
Motivations Toraim is conflicted. Most of all, he wants to return to his family life, tend to his hearth, and hone his craft. But he knows that this is impossible until order is restored for all his people, and for generations to come. Additionally, he remains driven to bring honour to his clan and guild.
Disposition calm and even-tempered; generally disagreeable and rigid; taciturn.
Outlook pessimistic and cynical; conventional and traditional, yet rebellious by Dwarven standards; Orthodox adherent to the faith, yet tolerant.

Alias ad Tempus |

Also, here is a summary build, for your consideration:
LN Dwarven Fighter 1 / Cleric (Forgemaster) 1
Abilities str 10, dex 13, con 14, int 14, wis 18, cha 8
Traits Armor Expert, Defender of the Society (Fighter), Wary, Family ties
Skills Appraise 7, Climb 4, Craft (armor) 8, Craft (weapons) 8, Diplomacy 3, Heal 9, Intimidate 3, Knowledge (religion) 6, Knowledge (dungeoneering) 6, Perception 9, Sense Motive 9, Survival 8
Feats Armor focus, *Reach spell or Extend spell*
Masterwork item Full plate

Alias ad Tempus |

Why indeed?!
I figured that it might eventually help with mobility on the battlefield, which in turn might allow the character to help out where needed... But given how feat-starved clerics generally are, that may never happen! More strength would probably be of use, but he'll probably never smash anything unless his weapon becomes, somehow, Guided!
Or I could reduce wisdom to increase physical stats...
Your thoughts?

Sam C. |

Hmmm, you mention mobility on the battlefield, and that makes me think of the Circling Mongoose/Canny Tumble series. But that chain should be started pretty early, and I don't know that full plate is really suited to it (be surprising as f~~+ though, seeing a wall of armor bounce around like that). And, as you mention, clerics hunger for feats like a vampire for blood. Circling Mongoose is pretty costly at four, and Canny Tumble makes it five. Plus, no Acrobatics ranks for the latter feat.
And then, there's no sign that you're going for Dex to damage either, which is its own feat chain. Since it's highly unlikely that you'll be able to just hang back and chill in the rear while tossing spells, you'll need to be able to lay hurt, and you can't really do that (unless you stick to ranged attacks exclusively, but again, that's another feat chain if you want to be even slightly good at it; Precise Shot is a bare minimum must-have).
That's not to say it isn't possible, though. If you get a good spread of life essences during play, you could buy the feats in question with those (or buy whatever cleric feats you want, or mix and match as the opportunity arises). And every four life essences spent on feats gets a bonus ability score increase too (the reverse also applies). But counting on those dropping as you need them for build-critical feats/ability increases feels very sloppy personally, and like a good way to get your build all screwed up if they don't come as you need them to.
Speaking purely for myself, if it were my character, I'd go with Wis 15 and use the first three or four level-based ability increases to get Wis up to whatever minimum needed for my highest (eventual) spell level; the remaining ability increases can be sent wherever they'd be most useful after that. I'd drop Dex to 10 or 11, and feed the spare points into as much Str as I could get. The other stats are fine (you really want hit points, more skills isn't a bad thing either, and the negative Cha feels appropriate for someone who was, until quite recently, effectively a shut-in).