World Moved On: a Debt to Society

Game Master Aebliss

System: Pathfinder 1E.
Starter level: 2.
Abilities: Point buy, 20 points.
Species: Any in the Advanced Race Guide.
HP: Max for 1st level. For all following levels, half maximum value of hit dice + 1.
Source books: Core rulebook, Advanced player's guide, Ultimate magic, Ultimate combat, Advanced race guide, Advanced class guide, Advanced intrigue, Occult adventures.
Traits: choose two from the traits in the Advanced player's guide.
Special:
* You get 2 background skill ranks per level. NO other unchained rules, period.
* You get maximum gold at 1st level, but any money you don't invest in gear is lost when the adventure begins. Spend as much on gear as you can!

Background: Give me at least three paragraphs of background, including a reason as to why your character has hit rock bottom.

Once, there were many gods, or so say the historians. Now, only these three remain.

Cha-chukai
Devouring Void, Pregnant Void
Alignment: CN
Portfolio: Chaos, creation, destruction, the universe
Domains: Chaos, Destruction, Madness, Sun, Void
Subdomains: Catastrophe, Entropy, Light, Revelation, Revelry, Riot, Stars, Truth, Whimsy
Cleric alignments: CE, CG, CN, N
Weapon: Gauntlet

Cha-chukai is the goddess of chaos. She both creates the universe and erodes it into destruction, without any rhyme or reason.
She is not malicious, but neither is she benevolent. She forbids nothing. She condones nothing. She simply is what she is.
Her clergy is divided in various independent sects, some of which believe they can appease or distract her so she will not destroy all of creation, some which seek to hasten that destruction so as to end the meaningless of existence, and yet others see her as the patron of whimsy and freedom.

Appearance: A winged woman without a face. Her simple dress, skin, hair and wings are all bone-white.

Sacred colour: White

Realm: Cha-chukai is said to lair at the very lowest level of Limbo, where chaos crystallizes into serenity.

Er-chukai
The Hungering Mother
Alignment: N
Portfolio: the earth, the seas, life, death
Domains: Animal, Earth, Plant, Water
Subdomains: Caves, Decay, Feather, Fur, Ice, Growth, Metal, Oceans, River
Cleric alignments: CN, LN, N, NE, NG
Weapon: Quarterstaff

Er-chukai is the world's mother goddess. She is the earth; she is the oceans. She is the mother of all plants and animals; she is their mortal enemy. What she creates, she inevitably devours, returning the building blocks of life to her womb through death, so she can build anew.
Er-chukai is not random, she is not rigid. She is concerned with nothing but her own purpose, and the cycle of life and death is just one part of her works.
Her clergy is diverse, but is broadly guided by a council of hierarchs who represent each of the alignments which may worship her. In everyday life, priests of Er-chukai may be simple village priests, tending the people like a farmer tends the herd. Others are natural philosophers, studying the great cycle of life or the secrets of biology. Some followers of Er-chukai are great healers; others are stern philosophers who unleash death on the unsuspecting in order to preserve the balance of the world.

Appearance: When Er-chukai deigns to appear, she takes the form of titanic earth elementals, walking mountains garbed in forests. She is surrounded by swarms of flying creatures, ranging from robins to rocs, but pays neither them nor the cities she crushes under her heel any heed.

Sacred colour: Green

Realm: Er-chukai's home lies in the depths of the Elemental Plane of Earth.

Kalai
The Dreamer; the Mad; the Weaver
Alignment: LN
Portfolio: Civilization, deceit, knowledge, philosophy, writing
Domains: Darkness, Law, Magic, Trickery
Subdomains: Alchemy, Arcane, Deception, Divine, Espionage, Judgement, Legislation, Loyalty, Moon, Night, Rites, Thievery, Tyranny
Cleric alignments: LE, LG, LN, N
Weapon: Longsword

Kalai the Mad is the great deceiver. He filled the minds of mortals with dreams and ambition, he convinced his followers that there are rules and purpose to existence, and that they need only seek them out. It was Kalai who brought mortals writing, so they might pass on knowledge. It was Kalai who taught mortals how to take the treasures of the other gods and bend them to their own purpose. If there is merit in civilization and thought, it is owed to Kalai. If there is sorrow because of those things, it must be blamed on Kalai.
Kalai is not hidebound by rules; he simply persuades mortals that rules, laws, exist in all creation and that they can be discovered by determined minds. Maybe this means he is a great liar. Maybe it just means that he takes pity on the mortal condition and is trying to give their existence some pale echo of divine purpose.
Kalai's clergy has a strong, centralized hierarchy, with clear rules as to who should obey whom, and how much a superior may demand of an inferior. Many of his clerics are great scholars, each researching such subjects as intrigue them and all contributing to the sum of mortal knowledge.

Appearance: When Kalai manifests, he appears as a short, gnome-like creature. He is hairless, faceless and virtually sexless in form, his flesh the inky black of the space between the stars.

Sacred colour: Black.

Realm: It is said that Kalai lives in the World of Dreams, but he may also be at home in the Plane of Shadow. No one is entirely certain.

Imp shouldn’t be here. Not in this cell, and not in this city.

They grew up not in Hive but in a loose-knit nomadic community that travels throughout the broader region, scraping out a precarious existence in the mess that the world has become. Imp’s parents were loving but were left chronically ill after a disease outbreak when Imp was young, so the care they could provide was often limited. And as a child Imp never really got the hang of social interactions — they could rarely work up the nerve to even start a conversation with another kid their age, and when they did they often came across as abrasive or just plain weird. So for a time Imp largely had to fend for themselves, learning to make bows and arrows and hunting game in order to survive.

That all changed when they met the Antitrust, a community militia within the nomads committed to a philosophy of radical egalitarianism. The Antitrust was looking to expand its ranks in response to increasing aggression from nearby cities, and though hesitant at first Imp eventually volunteered. Suddenly for the first time in their life they were surrounded by a support network of people who not only cared about them but could make them feel like they had something important to contribute, regardless of whether they could talk pretty or throw status around. Imp became good friends with many of the other militia members. They taught Imp how to fight, how to work in a team. But with their encouragement Imp also started reading some history, and thinking more about the world and their place in it. After a few years, the Antitrust really felt like home. A place where Imp could do what was right.

This year, though, an adjustment in the nomads’ seasonal routes brought them closer to Hive than they’d ever been. After a few small clashes with divisions of Hive’s army, the Antitrust decided to send a small group of scouts to infiltrate the city itself — and Imp was eager to go. The team hoped to investigate not only the scale of the military threat, but also the prospects for helping the common people of Hive organize to overthrow the ruling class. Nothing Imp hadn’t been involved with half a dozen times before, to varying degrees of success. But this time they didn’t even make it to the city before a small bird caught up with them. It had a sealed message from the Antitrust tied to its leg: reactionary forces within the nomads had seized power and they were cracking down on the militia. Dozens of members had already been executed.

The scouting party scattered, thrown into chaos and fear. Imp had no way to know if they were being pursued or if the nomads were already leaving them in the dust. Only one thing was clear: they couldn’t go back. Imp wouldn’t see their friends or their aging parents again. They fled for the only place they could think of, Hive itself, gliding in under the cover of night. But once there they had no clue what to do with themselves, in this unfamiliar city with its strange coins and hostile guards and endless twisting walls. The idea of fomenting revolution now seemed laughable. Imp was a nomad with nowhere to go, a militiaman with nothing to fight for.

So they went to a bar. The last thing they remember is ordering drink after drink they knew they could never pay for, with no intention but holding off reality for at least one night. Now they’ve woken up in a cell, surrounded by these other dregs of society. It’s not quite true, perhaps, that Imp shouldn’t be here. They’d certainly rather be somewhere else, if they had anywhere else to be. But looking around from them to the others, you could almost say they belong.

Imp Lemayian
Agender strix monk (zen archer) 2
LG Medium humanoid (strix)
Init +5; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision; Perception +8
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DEFENSE
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AC 16, touch 16, flat-footed 13 (+3 Dex, +3 Wis)
hp 17 (2d8+2)
Fort +5, Ref +6, Will +6
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OFFENSE
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Speed 30 ft.; fly 60 ft. (average)
Melee unarmed strike +3 (1d6+2)
Ranged longbow +5 (1d8)
longbow flurry of blows +4/+4 (1d8)
Special Attacks hatred
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STATISTICS
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Str 14, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 16, Cha 5
Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 19
Feats Deadly Aim, Improved Unarmed Strike, Perfect Strike, Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Weapon Focus (longbow)
Traits Militia Veteran, Outlander (exile)
Skills Acrobatics +8, Artistry (philosophy) +5, Craft (bows) +6, Fly +8, Knowledge (history) +5, Perception +8, Sense Motive +7, Stealth +8, Survival +7
Languages Common, Strix
SQ nocturnal
Other Gear longbow, arrows (blunt 10, cold iron 10, smoke 3, stone 100, stone flight 10, whistling 5), animal call (owl), artisan’s tools, backpack, bell, belt pouch, blanket, caltrops, candles (10), chalk (5), earplugs, fishhook, flint and steel, hemp rope (50 ft.), holly, inkpen, mistletoe, monk’s outfit, oil (1 qt.), powder, rice paper (4), sack, signal whistle, silver weapon blanch, sewing needle, sling, soap, torches (2), trail rations (5 days), twine (50 ft.), waterskin, weapon cord

Kehlysch’s childhood is a gaping hole in his memory. Who is parents where, whether he had any sibilings or close relatives is beyond his recollection. For him life began the day he had several other children were brought into the Temple of Cha-chukai. The white-robed priests made their way through the throng, as if searching for some child in particular. One of the priests, a tall, pale, stern looking figure grabbed him firmly by the wrist an pulled him from the crowded hall. ”You,” the priest said, in a voice that was alien and emotionless in tone. ”You have been chosen. You will be marked and you will become One.” Before he could reply or object. Kehlysch was lifted bodily into a chair made of wood and iron. With thick leather straps at his ankles, wrists, and throat, Kehlysch was held firmly in place.
The priest gestured, and two other white-robed figures entered the room with trays of bowls and metal implements. Kehlysch’s ragged tunic was cut from his body, leaving his upper torso bare. The next several hours were a blur of pain, as the priest repeatedly and rhythmically stabbed him in the chest with a large needle, stopping only occasionally to wipe away the welling blood from his skin.
When this torment was finally finished, the priest said to Kehlysch, ”You are most certainly hungry.” He reached for a metal funnel, and forced the narrow end into the boy’s mouth, pushing it far enough down that Kehylsch gagged and wretched. Whatever was poured into the funnel burned as it came in contact with his throat and stomach. The burning changed to a ripping and tearing sensation, as if he had swallowed fish hooks that were now clawing at his guts. As the funnel was removed, Kehlysch’s body wracked with retching and heaving, but no vomit or phlegm came forth. He sat in the chair, unable to move, crying out in pain between the violent contractions of his innards. Sometime after, the priest spoke again. ”Now, you will see.” The robed figure held up a long, slender blade made of some sort of shiny black stone, and Kehlysch could only watch in horror as the blade moved closer and closer to his left eye. He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he would as a last ditch effort against the approaching implement, but he felt strong fingers force his lid and eyebrow open and back away from the soft flesh of his eye. Pain exploded through his head, as he felt the blade pierce into the orbit of his skull and pry his eye free of the socket with a sickening pop.
Wake. Came a voice that wasn’t his from somewhere within his head. You have healed. You need no more rest. Kehlysch awoke to find he was no longer in the chair. He was lying in a cot in a small, sparsely furnished room. He was dressed in the white robes of a priest of Cha-chukai. He could see through both eyes, but something was not as it was. He reached up to touch the left side of his face, and found that the skin felt misshapen and hard, as if he had grown callouses or scales. There was an odd tickling sensation, as if some many-legged beetle was crawling along the inside of his mouth and nose. He could feel the legs scuttling across his sinuses, the roof of his mouth, and the back of his throat. “What happened?” he asks the himself, the voice in his head, and no one all at once. A few moments later, the door to his room opened, and a white-robed figure entered the room. ”It is time for you both to begin your studies. Follow me.”
In the seven years that followed, Kehlysch and the being that now shared his consciousness and made its home in the left side of his face and skull learned all they could about the power and purpose of Cha-chukai. They sometimes found the knowledge in books, or in scrolls, or ancient tablets. They also found knowledge in the minds of those around them, finding that they could force themselves into the memories of others and plunder them just as surely as a burglar in a closed shop. It was this latter ability that landed them in prison. Crowded places are the best places to pick memories, just as a thief knows crowded places are the best place to pick pockets. A tavern frequented by the lowest echelon of Hive’s society was, perhaps, not the best place to find those memories.
Kehlysch settled himself into a table in the corner near the bar, his hood covering his face within its deep cowl. His vision had narrowed with the introduction of his new companion, so anything beyond ten yards or so was an amorphous blur. He could not see everyone in the room, but reached into the minds of those he could see, the ones drowning their sorrows at the bar. Each mind held a story sadder than the one before, memories of loss, betrayal, infidelity, deceit, and abuse flooded his consciousness. Each time he resolved to stop, the thing in his head urged him to try another. He found himself buying stronger and stronger drinks in order to numb himself to the agonies he witnessed. The alcohol numbed the pain, but also loosened his tongue and lowered his inhibitions. He approached the patrons, one after another, loudly and drunkenly opining on their circumstances and woes, and what he thought they should do to rectify them. His words were not appreciated, and in short order, he had earned the ire of nearly half of the bar’s patrons. He had no time to react when the first fist connected with his solar plexus. The air flew from his lungs and he collapsed to the floor as the sounds of a tavern brawl erupted around him.

Muraisa
Female Nagaji Drunken Brute Invulneable Rager Barbarian 2
Neutral Good Medium Humanoid (Reptilian)
Initiative; +1 Perception +6

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Defense
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AC 17/15 touch 11 flat-footed 16 (Second score during Rage)
hp 26
Fort +4 Ref +1, Will +1

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Offence
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee Greatsword - +6 to Hit - 2d6+6 Slashing 19-20x2 Crit
Greatsword (Rage) - +8 to Hit - 2d6+9 Slashing 19-20x2 Crit
Ranged

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Statistics
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Str 18, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 12, Cha 14,
Base Atk +2; CMB +6; CMD 17

Feats
1st - Power Attack - Gain a bonus to damage at the cost of accuracy.

Traits
Reactionary - Get +2 to initiative.
Birthmark (Faith) - Gain +2 to Charm and compulsion effects.

Racial Traits
Armored Scales - Add +1 to Natural Armour.
Resistant - +2 against mind-affecting effects and poison.
Low Light Vision - See twice as far in low light.
Resilient - Immune to sleep effects, and gain a +2 against Enchantments.
Serpent’s Senses - +2 to Perception and +2 to Handle reptiles.
Low-Light Vision - See twice as far in low light.

Skills
Acrobatics - +5 (+1 Dex - 1 Ranks - Class Skill)
Appraise - +0 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks)
Bluff - +2 (+2 Cha - 0 Ranks)
Climb - +8 (+4 Str - 1 Ranks - Class Skill)
Craft (Food) - +5 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks - Class Skill - +2 Background Skill)
Diplomacy - +2 (+2 Cha - 0 Ranks)
Disable Device - +1 (+1 Dex - 0 Ranks)
Disguise - +2 (+2 Cha - 0 Ranks)
Escape Artist - +1 (+1 Dex - 0 Ranks)
Fly - +0 (+1 Dex - 0 Ranks)
Handle Animal - +6 (+2 Cha - 1 Ranks - Class Skill)
Heal - +1 (+1 Wis - 0 Ranks)
Intimidate - +7 (+2 Cha - 2 Ranks - Class Skill)
Knowledge (Arcana) - +0 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks)
Knowledge (Dungeoneering) - +0 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks)
Knowledge (Engineering) - +0 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks)
Knowledge (Geography) - +0 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks)
Knowledge (History) - +0 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks)
Knowledge (Local) - +0 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks)
Knowledge (Nature) - +0 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks)
Knowledge (Nobility) - +0 (+0 Int -0- Ranks)
Knowledge (Planes) - +0 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks)
Knowledge (Technology) - +0 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks)
Knowledge (Religion) - +0 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks)
Linguistics - +2 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks - +2 Background Skills)
Perception - +8 (+1 Wis - 2 Ranks - Class Skill - +2 Racial Bonus)
Perform (-) - +2 (+2 Cha - 0 Ranks )
Ride - +4 (+1 Dex - 0 Rank)
Sense Motive - +1 (+1 Wis - 0 Ranks)
Sleight of Hand - +4 (+1 Dex - 0 Rank)
Spellcraft - +1 (+0 Int - 0 Ranks)
Stealth - +1 (+1 Dex - 0 Rank)
Survival - +1 (+1 Wis - 0 - Ranks)
Swim - +8 (+4 Str - 1 Ranks - Class Skill)
Use Magic Device +3 (+3 Cha - 0 Ranks)
Languages Common, Nagaji, Draconic, Orc, Celestial

Combat Gear Greatsword, Scale Mail
Back Pack, Belt Pouch x 6, Signet Ring, Explorer’s Outfit, Traveler's Outfit x2 Soap
Hooded Lantern, Oil x 10, Silk Rope 100ft
Bedroll, Blanket
Chalk, Black Ink, Inkpen, Parchment x 11
Pitcher of Wine x5, Gallon of Ale x 5, Fine Bottle of Wine x 2
Trail Ration x 10, Travel Bread x 4, Dried Meat 5lbs, Cheese 5lbs
Cash 0gp, 0sp, 0cp

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Special Abilities
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Rage - Gain +4 to strength and con, a +2 to will saves, +2 temp hp per level and a -2 to AC. Enter a state of fatigue after that lasts twice as long as the rage. Lasts 4+con +2 per level.
Rage Powers - Barbarian’s rage is strong it can manifest in strange and unusual ways…
-Lesser Spirit Totem - When raging, angry spirits manifest. Inflict an additional attack that does 1d4+Cha in damage.
Raging Drunk - As a move action drink a potion or shot of alcohol. Each alcoholic drink means no rounds of Rage are spent. For each drink the Barbarian suffer from 1 round of nausea when the Rage ends.
Invulnerability - Gain ½ level as Damage Reduction.

Favoured Class Bonus - +2 Skill Points.

Tall and well built, Muraisa is an impressively coloured Nagaji. Her scales are primarily a deep sapphire blue with royal blue highlights across her body, each one shining and healthy unless something has gone very wrong. She is taller than the average human, and thicker in the shoulders, with a strong back. Her head lacks hair, does the rest of her body, and she often wears a wide brimmed hat.

Muraisa’s eyes are a deep amber, slitted as her people’s usually are, and unblinking as Nagaji eyes usually are. Her finger and toe nails are naturally almost black, but she often paints them, as it amuses her. When given a choice of what to wear she prefers dark greens and purples, as they compliment her scales better than lighter and brighter colours. Muraisa is rarely seen out of her armour as well, and usually has an assortment of belt bounces containing vials of booze. Her skin is armored enough that she doesn’t typically bother with shoes unless custom demands it.

Typically, Muraisa doesn’t smell of much except alcohol, and even then only if she spills it as, given she’s a reptile, she doesn’t sweat. She does have a forked tongue that occasionally flickers when she talks, but this may be an affection too annoy some more traditional elements of her community.

Proud and independent, Muraisa is helpful as an ally and dangerous an enemy, although the first is more due to her own desire to be the best at what she does and the second is petty vindictiveness. Proud of her blood and her lineage Muraisa’s primary goal is to add to it, although she’s distinctly foggy on exactly how she’ll do that. Children don’t seem to be her idea of a legacy, or at least not yet, and her actions can be somewhat self defeating. Yet, she still seeks a way to bring glory, or infamy, or perhaps just something new to her blood.

Violence is a skill that was looked down on by her family, and yet many tales of the ancestors had them as great warriors, skilled and deadly. Muraisa decided that, given her strength and size, this would be her gift to the family, and violence is often her favourite response to a situation. Especially if she’s been drinking, and Muraisa has often been drinking. And yet, she is aware that there are other options. Unless insulted, she’ll probably allow more diplomatic options to be taken. But an insult is usually met with an insult at best and a sword at worst.

Although on the outs with her family Muraisa is firmly convinced if she can find something to prove herself all will be forgiven, and she takes insults to her blood and her ancestors harshest of all - it’ll take a minor miracle or a good friend to stop violence at that point.

Born to a family that claim to be one of the founders of Hive, that helped build the great city before the world became something else, something other, Muraisa’s kin are a known and powerful clan sprawling across the top level of the city. Politicians, magisters and philosophers. Muraisa…wasn’t. It wasn’t that she was stupid, as such. Just…not as smart as the others. It wasn’t that she wasn’t charismatic, as such. Just…not as good at talking as the others.

As young teenager, Muraisa realized that she wasn’t the same as the others. She was a round peg in a square hole, and no amount of hammering was going to force her through without damage. And yet,she loved her family. She loved the tales of older, of warriors fighting off the forces of ruination, buying time for Hive to be built. Of the the great mages and warriors who protected the house in the early chaos, when the city was still new and everything fluid and in flux, even the fortunes of the great and noble. This, she thought, as she read the stories for the hundredth time. This is what I can do.

Of course, others argued. Her parents forbid it, naturally. It would not do to have a family member do something as unseemly as wield a weapon. That was what they paid people to do. And yet, Muraisa proved to be good at it. Strong, thanks to her upbringing, and tough. And angry at being treated like the odd one out, the other, the one who would marry 2nd cousin Yarrask and be happy that someone would take her. That anger gave her strength.

Her association with strange, rough sorts had a second side, other than martial training. She discovered strong drink. Mulled wine or fine spirits were something her family might partake in, but roughly brewed beer and wine that had more in common with floor cleaner were what her new friends, her teachers, drank, and Muraisa found that it helped her as she fought. She could maintain her anger better with the fire of booze in her gut.

Still, alcohol and violence are not the best combination - or perhaps not the best combination for good choices. Muraisa had made a breakthrough, one day. She had tapped into the might of the ancestors themselves, the ancients whose worship and veneration was held as equal to the gods that remained. As she raged and drank they swirled to her, offering aid and defeating her enemies with their own mighty blows. This, surely, must be proof of the rightness of her path, with the ancients own blessings visible upon her.

As she drank to celebrate a puffed up son of some minor house interrupted. He said…something. Something insult, Muraisa was sure at the time, although now the booze makes the memory hazy. Muraisa responded as was right and proper - a furious blow. What she had not considered was the added harm her new ability might add. The strike of the ancestors was lethal, tearing the life from insulting idiot.

This was where Muraisa’s world began to collapse. Minor though his house was, they were on the rise, and had friends. Friends in her own family, even. Muraisa was clearly in the wrong. His friends claimed her had said nothing insulting, that Muriasa had attacked in a drunken stupor, and she couldn’t remember what had been said well enough to rebut the argument.

…had said anything insulting?

Alone, and without anyone to turn to who would help her, not the family name, Muraisa fled the to layer in fear. She had heard the words being murmured. Cast out. Exile. Disinherited. These things, she could not allow. She had to find something to fix this. Something to make everyone proud, something they needed to survive.

Anything.

Chillmyst QuickFoot, female halfling, sorcerer 2 (shadow bloodline)
Str 9 -1
Dex 16 +3
Con 12 +1
Int 12 +1
Wis 12 +1
Cha 18 +4

Combat
Initiative: +5
BAB: +1
Rays +5
Shadow Strike +5 1d4 + dazzled
dagger +1 1d3-1
Fort +2 Reflex +4 Will +5 CMB -2, CMD 12 (+2 vs fear, +1 vs divine magic)
AC 14 FFAC 10 TAC 15

Feats
Dodge

Traits
Reactionary: +2 initiative
History of heresy: +1 save vs divine magic

Skills
+8 Bluff 1+3+4
+12 Stealth 2+3+3+4
+5 Perception 2+1+2
+5 Know arcana 1+3+1
+5 Spellcraft 1+3+1
+8 Use magic device 1+3+4
+3 Lore lower Hive 2+1
+3 Appraise 2+1

Languages
Common, halfling, goblin

Racial traits
Fleet of foot: 30ft movement
Small: +1 AC, +1 attack, -1 CMB and CMD, +4 Stealth
Fearless: 2 vs fear
Halfling luck: +1 saves
Keen senses: +2 perception

Class traits
Stealth is a class skill
Shadow Strike: touch attack 1d4 non-lethal and dazzled for one minute

Spells
Level 0: Prestidigitation, Light, resistance, disrupt undead, detect magic
Level 1 (5/day): Mage armour, Magic Missile

Equipment
6 Dagger x3
1 Wrist sheath
8 Sorcerers’ kit
Backpack
Bedroll
Belt pouch
Flint and steel
Iron pot
Mess kit
Soap
Torches x10
Trail rations x5
Waterskin
Spell component pouch
4 Travellers outfit x2
50 Antitoxin
50 5x acid vials
0.5 Bandolier
0.5 Broad-brimmed hat

Chillmyst doesn’t remember her parents. They vanished before she knew them. Whether they died or abandoned her, she doesn’t know. She would likely have followed them into nothingness, but for the appearance of her “talent”. Before that she wandered from place to place on the lowest level of Hive, begging, stealing and staving. But things changed.
Shadows seemed to like her. And her sorcerous talent became manifest. She soon was working for one of the lower class gangs in the lower hive. Although she wasn’t a rogue, she could sneak better than many of them. The shadows liked her. And her spells gave her an advantage. She prospered, in a fashion, and moved up a level.
She sort of looked for her parents but found no trace, except that her mother likely had similar abilities to her. And there was a disturbing rumour that their disappearance had something to do with the cult of Kalai, the devourer.
If she had a flaw, it was that she developed a contempt for religion. Her favourite target was the church of Kalai, which she would steal from worshipers and vandalise what she could. But the other faiths were also targeted from time to time. She mocked their faith and seemed to have a charmed life in escaping a response.
The good times didn’t last. She never found out exactly what happened but it seems that her gang stole the wrong thing or knifed the wrong person. Or maybe it was something else. But guards pounced on her gang and took them apart. Her friends and current life ended in the length of a quiet afternoon. Chillmyst was the only one to escape, with the shocking assistance of an oracle of Kalai. All he said in explanation was “Kalai has a purpose for you, little vandal”.
In horror, she fled. And fell into a depression. No friends, no allies, few prospects and the attention of a god whose church she had been victimising for some time. She went over her activities against the church. Did they let her get away with it? Were they letting her get away with it? What did this god want with her? She could dismiss the oracle as a raving fool, but he spoke with such certainty. And amusement.
She went to a bar and proceeded to get very drunk. Chillmyst does not remember much after that, except something about her toasting the end of all gods, maybe talking to the shadows and them answering, a big fight and losing that. She wakes up in a dark hole, battered and bruised.

Chillmyst is a halfling female with black hair and eyes. She is 23 years old and is 2ft, 9 inches tall (on the short size for a halfling) and about 28 pounds (so is slight of build). She has a habit of using Prestidigitation to create an illusion of a shadowy coin, which she flips between her fingers.