Rise of the Runelords

Game Master Veniir

The imposing Stefan Arco began his life on a small farm south of the Mosswood. His older brother Lev would often travel with his father into Sandpoint with his father to trade, while Stefan remained home with his mother and two younger sisters.

Five years back, their father was too ill to journey on his own, so Stefan accompanied his brother to Sandpoint in his father's stead. Upon their return home, the farm had been destroyed by goblins, leaving none alive. Consumed with grief, the two brothers set out to kill as many goblins as they could. Lev had some experience fighting from occasional training in Sandpoint, and his experience on the road, and Stefan followed his lead.

Soon, they heard rumors of an assault on the town by a force of giants and goblins, and immediately set out. Along the way, they encountered Lucent Ulbent, a fanatical priest of Erastil who claimed the city was facing its doom because it had turned from the path of righteousness found in small communities and embraced the corrupting life of the city. The boys would only suffer the same fate should they attempt to forestall Erastil's wrath.

While Lev brushed off the priest's message, focused only on his rage, Stefan found the man's message compelling, and devoted himself to following Erastil's teachings. He spent a few years with the old man, learning the ways of Erastil and his sacred weapon, until Lucent passed on a few months ago.

Ranging the Mosswood, he came across some goblins headed north. Before finishing them off, he asked their reasons for traveling beyond their home, and learned of the human now leading the Thistletop tribe and summoning all the local tribes to them. Eager to prevent organized attacks on the farming communities by the goblins, Stefan traveled north to investigate.

Helgash
Kyton-spawn tiefling oracle 2/paladin (hospitaler) 2
LG Medium outsider (native)
Init +0; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +0
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Defense
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AC 19, touch 10, flat-footed 19 (+9 armor)
hp 34 (4 HD; 2d8+2d10+8)
Fort +9, Ref +4, Will +9; +2 vs. death
Resist cold 5, electricity 5, fire 5
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor)
Melee bardiche +6 (1d10+4/19-20)
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft. (10 ft. with bardiche)
Special Attacks smite evil 1/day (+4 attack and AC, +2 damage)
Spell-Like Abilities (CL 4th; concentration +8)
. . 1/day—web (DC 16)
Paladin Spell-Like Abilities (CL 2nd; concentration +6)
. . At will—detect evil
Oracle Spells Known (CL 4th; concentration +8)
. . 1st (5/day)—bless, cure light wounds, detect undead, protection from evil
. . 0 (at will)—create water, detect magic, guidance, light, mending
. . Mystery Life
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Statistics
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Str 16, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 8, Cha 18
Base Atk +3; CMB +6; CMD 16
Feats Combat Expertise, Deadly Aim, Extra Lay on Hands, Fey Foundling[ISWG], Power Attack
Traits blessed touch, magical knack, student of faith
Skills Acrobatics -5 (-9 to jump), Diplomacy +11, Escape Artist -3, Handle Animal +11, Heal +5, Intimidate +6, Knowledge (history) +7, Knowledge (nobility) +7, Knowledge (religion) +8, Perception +0, Sense Motive +6, Survival +3, Use Magic Device +8; Racial Modifiers +2 Escape Artist, +2 Intimidate
Languages Abyssal, Common, Draconic, Infernal
SQ finesse weapon attack attribute, lay on hands 7/day (1d6+1), oracle's curse (legalistic), revelation (life link), tiefling paladin, vow to self
Other Gear mwk full plate, bardiche[APG], headband of alluring charisma +2
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Special Abilities
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+2 when using Lay on hands for yourself. Add +1 to the amount of damage the paladin heals with lay on hands, but only when the paladin uses that ability on herself.
Combat Expertise +/-1 Bonus to AC in exchange for an equal penalty to attack.
Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white only).
Deadly Aim -1/+2 Trade a penalty to ranged attacks for a bonus to ranged damage.
Detect Evil (At will) (Sp) You can use detect evil at will (as the spell).
Energy Resistance, Cold (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Cold attacks.
Energy Resistance, Electricity (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Electricity attacks.
Energy Resistance, Fire (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Fire attacks.
Fey Foundling Magical healing works better on you
Finesse Weapon Attack Attribute Finesse weapons use on attack rolls.
Lay on Hands (1d6+1 hit points, 7/day) (Su) As a standard action (swift on self), touch channels positive energy and applies mercies.
Legalistic The shackles of Hell impose savage consequences should you violate a covenant, but also imbue you with remarkable guile. Whenever you break your word (either purposefully or unintentionally), you become sickened for 24 hours or until you meet your ob
Life Link (2 max bonds, 120 feet) (Su) As a standard action, establish bond that drains your HP to heal others who have taken 5 dam.
Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
Smite Evil (1/day) (Su) +4 to hit, +2 to damage, +4 deflection bonus to AC when used.
Vow to Self (1/day) +4 morale bonus to one roll to keep a promise.

Tanja Bloodstained
CG Half Orc Hunter
Senses Perception +9 Darkvision 60ft
Initiative +2

HP 4d8+4+4 (29)
AC 21 (+1 Dex, +10 Armor, +1 Deflection) FF 20 Touch 12
Fort +8 Ref +8 Will +6

Speed 20ft
Reach 5ft

Mwk Greatsword - assuming Power Attack, Animal Focus (Bull) +8 (2d6+10) 19-20 and Bite +2 (1d4+3)

Spells Known
0th (DC12) - Guidance, Create Water, Mending, Detect Magic, Read Magic, Purify Food and Drink
1st (DC 13) 4/day - Cure Light Wounds, Resist Energy, Residual Tracking, Lead Blades
2nd (DC 14) 2/day - Carry Companion, Stone Call

STR 18 (15+2+1) / DEX 12 / CON 12 / INT 13 / WIS 14 / CHA 11
BaB +3 CMB +7 CMD 18
Feats: Heavy Armor Proficiency, Craft Wondrous Item, Outflank (Hunter Bonus), Pack Flanking (Hunter Bonus)
Traits: Fate’s Favored, Tusked, Survivor
Drawback: Stigmatized
Race Traits: Darkvision 60ft, Sacred Tattoo, Shamanic Enhancement, Orc Blood
Items

Equipment
Ring of Deflection +1: 2000 GP
+1 Full Plate: 1550 GP (partially crafted)
Cloak of Resistance +1: 1000 GP
Mithral Barding Chain Shirt: 734 GP (crafted)
MWK Greatsword: 350 GP
366 GP worth of mundane gear I’ll pick if I’m chosen

Crafted Armor
Mithral Barding Chain Shirt
Craft DC: 20 (standard for mwk items)
Initial Price: (100 (chain shirt) + 1000 (mithral)) * 2 (barding) = 2200
Craft Price: 734
Money Saved: 1466

Masterwork Full Plate
Craft DC: 20 (standard for mwk items)
Initial Price: 1500 (full plate) + 150 (masterwork)
Craft price: 550
Money Saved: 1100

Skills 28 ranks total
Survival, 4 ranks, +3 class, +2 Wis (+9) {+2 tracking}
Perception, 4 ranks, +3 class, +2 Wis (+9)
Spellcraft, 2 ranks, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 racial (+8)
Handle Animal 3 ranks, +3 class, (+6) {+4 Companion}
Bluff, 3 ranks, (+3)
Intimidate, 2 ranks, +3 class, (+5)
Sense Motive, 2 ranks, +1 trait, +3 class, +2 Wis (+9)
Ride, 2 ranks, +3 class, +1 Dex, (+6) ACP -5
Knowledge (Nature), 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)
Knowledge (Dungeoneering), 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, (+5)
Stealth, 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Dex, (+5) ACP -5
Climb, 1 rank, +3 class, +4 Str, (+8) ACP -5
Swim, 1 rank, +3 class, +4 Str, (+8) ACP -5
Heal, 1 rank, +3 class, +2 Wis, (+6)

Background Skills 8 ranks total
Craft (Armor) 4 ranks, +3 Class, +1 Int, +2 MWK tools, (+10)
Artistry (Tattoos) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)
Craft (Leather), 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, (+5)
Craft (Clothing), 2 ranks, +3 class, +1 Int, (+6)

Zaga
Animal companion
Cat (Big)
Senses Low Light Vision, Scent, Perception +6
HP 4d8+4 (22)
AC 21 (+3 Natural, +4 Dex, +4 Armor) FF 17 Touch 14
Fort +5 Ref +8 Will +5
Evasion, Link, Improved Empathic Link, Share Spells

Speed 40ft
Reach 5ft

Assuming Animal Focus (Bull), Power Attack
Bite +7 (1d6+7), 2 Claws +7 (1d4+7)

Rake 1d4

Str 16 (13+2+1) {+4 almost always} Dex 18 Con 13 Int 3 Wis 15 Cha 10
BaB +3 CMB +8 CMD 22
Feats: Iron Will, Favored Animal Focus (Bull), Outflank (Hunter Bonus), Pack Flanking (Hunter Bonus)
Skills 4 ranks total
Perception, 1 rank, +3 class, +2 Wis (+6)
Stealth, 1 ranks, +3 class, +4 Dex (+8)
Acrobatics, 1 rank, +3 class, +4 Dex (+8)
Survival, 1 rank, +2 Wis (+3)

Tricks 8 known
Watch
Menace
Intimidate
Heel
Flank
Down
Attack x2

I think crafting is cool and flavorful. Especially for this character, who I want to make various items for her animal companion. I don’t plan to take other crafting feats, and I’m generally going to avoid going too high above WBL guidelines. For example, as submitted, Tanja has not used the Craft Wondrous Items feat at all, because doing so would put her too far above the wealth guideline for my liking.
Regarding power level, I feel like it would definitely be possible to reduce her power level and still have a strong, viable character. The way her backstory is written, I feel like Tanja should be pretty good at killing things. But if I’m selected, I’ll probably revisit her statistics, compare them to existing characters, and consider whether toning things down might make for a more fun play experience

Tanja blinked at the blue paint of Desna’s shrine, which shone bright beneath the moon. ”Bright enough to make me blue!” She twirled a little, raising her hands and examining them closely as they passed in and out of shadow. Yenna lifted her high and then spun, faster and faster, until she fell to the ground, laughing. Tanja rested her head on her mother’s chest, listening to her heart. ”You make a good pillow, mommy.”
”For you, my sweet, I am softer than the finest feather beds in Kaer Maga.” Tanja closed her eyes and burrowed into her mother a little. The Cinderlands were hot when the sun rode high, but tonight the moon was queen of a clear and cold sky. Here and there a few clouds, writhen by the wind, shone with a pale white radiance
Tanja felt safe enough to ask about the thing she feared most in the world. ”Will you keep me safe from him?”
”From who, my beautiful butterfly?”
”From daddy”

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”Come inside my child, and help me with the hides.” Yenna’s voice had that tone to it, and even though Tanja was playing frogs and ladies, she knew not to argue. Rupert could wait to be transformed back into a prince. Just as she had with Cinder Wolves and Bush Tigers, Yenna had shown Tanja how to stalk goats, how to choose the right ground and wait for the best shot. Tanja had been quiet the whole time, and she had gotten the tongue when they were done. She licked her lips, remembering the way the warm blood filled her mouth with rich flavor. Yenna showed her how to gut the goat, then, how to dress and skin it. Now, she showed Tanja how to stretch a hide, how to scrape and tan it. Hides were the most important part of any creature, she said, even if you were lean and hungry. Hides meant money, and money meant people listening to you. When the hide was scraped and the profits calculated, she asked her daughter, ”any questions?”
”What’s a frog?”
”It’s an animal...like a goat.”
”Are there any frogs here?”
”No, my child. It’s too dry and sandy here. Frogs live in water. They take a long time to grow big and strong, before they walk on the ground.”
”Are there any princes here?”
Yenna sighed and wiped sweat from her brow. Her hands were still stained red with blood. A little blood had dried on one cheek, but she didn’t seem to notice.
”Why do we live here mommy, if there are no frogs AND no princes?”
”Because there are goats,” Yenna said finally. Weakly. She sat down, tired. ”And because other people are too scared of the wyverns to live here, so we can have the goats all to ourselves.”
”I like people. I liked Vaana. She taught me about lots of things. Embroidery. Why don’t you teach me about embroidery, instead of smelly goats?”
”My star and moon, there are things you must understand.” Yenna took her child’s hands in her own. Dull green against bright red. ”When people look at us, they’re afraid. Afraid that someone big will come to hurt them.”
”Who? Who are they afraid of?”
”The same one we both are.” Yenna could see that Tanja understood. She picked up the child and held her close. ”But while I am with you, you don’t need to be afraid of anything. Now come with me, you’ll have the best needlework of anyone I know, from here to the Stolen Bay.”

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The sun rose grim and red over a burned and broken world. A cloud of ash and dust rose with it, growing steadily from the east. There was a sound now too, growing closer. A steady tramp of doom, the kind that could make the sky tremble. Nightmares came under the dust, with dark steel and darker hearts. One of them picked Tanja up by the ankle and shook her. ”Little half breed girl. Camp so neat, you keep it clean by yourself?” His voice was rough as raw iron beaten into cruel shapes. Somewhere else, one of the monsters was going through Yenna’s things, tossing them one by one into the fire. Nothing caught his eye. ”Where’s your mum, little one?”

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Tanja pulled slow and steady against her bonds, never when the nightmares looked at her. When she thought it was safe, she chewed at the thick cords that held her wrists together. Her feet, lashed to a giantbone pulled by an aurochs, were too high above her to reach. She was being dragged alongside other plunder. ”Little half worm will make a good prize for Grishnakh.” Mommy’s tattoos were of the radiant moon, whose rare beauty could be glimpsed now and then when she washed herself beside dancing firelight. The monster that spoke had tattoos of death and blood, screaming faces and splattered guts.
Someone else, with braided hair and spiked armor, spoke to him. ”Long way back to Urglin. Long time ta feed a hungry mouth. I know a few hungry mouths wouldn’t mind feedin tonight. Get the taste of ash outta them. We could stew her good, or roast her slow.”

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Tanja lay in silence, counting the monsters. She lost track after fifteen, though there were many more than that. They had stopped marching for now, and some were dozing. One came to sit beside her. He was smaller than the rest, his features closer to human. ”It troubles me, that we never found your mum. But don’t worry, little one, we’ve still got the return journey. There may yet be time for a family reunion.” He tousled Tanja’s hair gently. ”Though my experience with human parents, they’ll abandon you to the waste when things get tough.” He shrugged, then coughed and keeled over. He was making a sputtering noise. Tanja saw an arrow in his throat, his eyes open wide and white and wheeling in every direction. She reached for a knife at his belt. He tried to stop her, tried to claw at the girl’s face, but his limbs were weak as straw.

The camp was quiet.

Slowly, Tanja crawled away, towards where she thought the arrow had come from. And then she was scooped up by Yenna’s strong arms and pulled close.
”I love you, my sun and stars. You are safe now. I love you. You are safe.”

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”I tell ya, we should cut her feet in half. That way if she runs again, won’t be so hard to catch her.”
”Nah. Grishnakh will like her spirit, and he’ll like her even better if her feet work.” The one with the tattoos spoke again. His voice was shattered stones tumbling down a mountainside.
”Little bit of maiming might make her strong like me. Could be fun, Brega.”
”You had enough fun with her mother to last you a while.” Brega’s voice was hope, ruined and jagged as broken glass.

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Brega and most of the others had crossed the Storval Rise and gone further south. The few who remained made camp atop the plateau. Tanja was in manacles now, resized for a child. Brega had been worried that tight bonds would ruin her hands and feet. He seemed much more concerned about that than the others, who were mainly concerned with horse lords. ”Long as we stay close to the mountains, they’ll never find us. Auroch herds will head East soon, just in time for us to head back North. We can venture a little farther from the mountains on the way back, only have the ankhravs to worry ‘bout.” It was Kruga who spoke, the same one who had killed Yenna. She ran her fingers around her braids often, petting them the way a charmer pets a snake. Kruga still had some of Yenna’s blood stained into her hair. Tanja kept her eyes away from that blood, watching flecks of ash float on the wind into the green wooded land below.

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Grishnakh was a disappointing prince. Half a human, and with half a heart, he warned Tanja. ”Keep on the good side of it, and you’ll be like me one day.” He gazed up at Urglin’s War Tower. Tanja would never be anything like this monster. ”You’re special, just like me.”

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Tanja was kept near Grishnakh most of the time. Often caged, sometimes bound, but never beaten. Not yet. ”You’ll go to the shamans when you’re strong enough, my child.” He often called her his child, his girl. ”I should say that when you go to the shamans, we’ll find out if you are strong enough.” Tanja watched him meet with the orc captains, Brega of the Southern Raiders, Grika One-Eye, Kroog the Demonspawn, and more.
One year, Brega and a ragged band of survivors came limping into the city. Brega carried a lump of white fur. ”Found this in the Ashwood,” he said to Grishnakh, dropping it on the floor at his feet. It hissed, but didn’t try to run. ”Stupid cub,” Brega snarled, ”bite me again and I’ll break another leg.”
Grishnakh put it in a cage with Tanja. It was a lion, with ghostly white fur and ruby eyes. He gave it all the food, so that Tanja had to steal from it to survive. Grishnakh liked watching the girl wrestle the little cat, liked the way it clawed and scarred her. Gave her honor, he said. Tanja didn’t let him see the way she lay next to the cub at night, to keep him warm. The way she healed his hurts with a soft and subtle magic. She would never let him see her be tender.

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The lion went to the arena, and Tanja was given to the shamans. ”Little girl, unspoiled. Good omen, yes!” Cried an old crone. Tanja was beaten and battered, broken and then moulded slowly into something both stronger and weaker than before. What they did to her never matched the way she suffered each time she dreamed, listening to her mother’s death again and again. When she was alone, Tanja found needles and blue ink. She made drawings on her thighs, butterflies and moons, where the shamans wouldn’t see. When they scarred her, they never found that supple skin, marked in the style of her mother’s people

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”The lion comes with me,” Tanja said firmly, her thick arms crossed. She never argued with Grishnakh.
Grishnakh gazed at her steadily, plotting. He needed his tribute caravan to reach Belkzen unspoiled. He couldn’t leave Urglin.
The lion went with Tanja. She named him Zaga.

When Tanja returned, dusty and bloodstained and victorious, Zaga went back to the arena. People placed bets on which creatures would win. It had been three years since Zaga arrived at Urglin, and he was hardly still a juvenile. Yet he was small, prevented from growing to his full size by some tainted magic. People bet against him often.

”Out in the wild,” Grishnakh explained to a Shoanti traveler who he needed to placate, ”most lions die young. Killed by males who take over the pride, so that their mothers will breed again and bear their sons. In this enlightened establishment, we only make them fight other cubs or juveniles, creatures their own size. The strong survive this, though sometimes the process leaves them...stunted.” Grishnakh grinned at Tanja. ”Not many live as long as this one. Say, girl, do you know if any of the handlers have given it a name? It’s a sad thing, but as predictable as an emberstorm. When the handlers give the animals names, they lose them right after.” Tanja’s face was stone, worn smooth and hard by countless storms. She saw the tattoos on the traveler’s arms, star and bat. She might have called him a traitor, in another life. ”Help my Collectors pass to the Storval Rise, and it’s yours, along with the other items discussed. I hear they gamble among your people, too. You could take a cut from it’s wagers, and be a rich man by next year.”
Zaga went with the Shoanti traveler

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Tanja had what she needed to leave. The stablemaster listened to her now; when she asked him to prepare two horses, he didn’t go to Grishnakh first. When she laid them heavy with food and water, he didn’t question her. She rode out of Urgulin ahead of a storm, lightning leaping over head, grim fury like a mantle wreathed around her.

She wasn’t going straight to Kaer Maga. First, she was going to find Brega and kill Kruga.

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The Shoanti drew close. Tanja didn’t try to outrun them, instead she reigned in and waited. ”I am Tanja, daughter of Yenna Owl-Eyes, of the Lyrune-Quah. I have travelled far in search of a band of orcs, who slew my mother and may kill more of your people.” She rested her sword across one shoulder, skirling eddies of ash blowing through her streaming hair.
”If you give up your weapon and come with us to see Drake-Shooter, our leader, we will let you live.” The woman who spoke was tall, her horse a quick bay with a braided mane.

Tanja knelt inside the tent of Drake-Shooter later that day. She still wore her armor, but carried no weapons now. Her horses were mingled with the herd already. ”I can’t let a wayward half-orc, bearing arms made in the forges of Urglin, roam free on the land. You must come with us north to the meeting with the Shundar-Quah, but in time, we will find our way again to Kaer Maga. When we are there, you may go free.”
”Am I not of a kin to your people?”
”You are not.”
”You will give me command of some of your warriors, and I will lead them to the West. They will see that my story is true. There is a band of raiders, not two days' ride from here. We must find them, before the trail goes cold, and they bring more destruction to your people. I will prove my worth in battle by killing those orcs, for my mother and all those who died before her. Your people will witness my prowess and say my name.”
Drake-Shooter’s eye twitched once. ”There are none of my people in the West. The only folk that dwell there, amid gargoyles and graves, are shamed. Alone. Outcast.” He looked at the child before him, barely grown. ”I will send a rider with your tidings to our leader.” Then he said her birth name, once. ”Tanja.”

Tanja’s horses belonged to the tribe now, but her weapons and armor were kept in a store in Drake Shooter’s tent. They would be returned when she was freed. The camp was small, only a part of the Lyrune-Quah. Lots of elderly and young, not many warriors. They moved slowly. Folk were afraid when they passed by Tanja, shunning her as though she were diseased. She felt now bitterly the tooth of her mother’s words, uttered so long ago. Why did you keep me here?

Two men, both large, stole her food. At first, she let them, but she could not go hungry for long. She fought them, hard fists flying, Tanja losing until she bit off an ear. ”Not as good as a tongue,” she spat, while onlookers backed away in horror. Tanja knelt again before Drake-Shooter, hands bound now, blood splattered down the front of her shirt.
”I thought it would be safe for you to walk disarmed among our people. I see now that you cannot be disarmed, therefore you must be bound with the other prisoner, and sleep in a cage.”

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Tanja handed a filthy scrap of cloth to the other prisoner. He looked at her doubtfully. ”I know the rags I’m wearing are not the height of contemporary fashion, but I don’t think that’s going to help much.”
”It’s for your mouth.”
”Hmm. Might be helpful for that, actually.”

Jasper was Taldan, from a far away town on the Lost Coast. He had told her of that place, of craggy beaches and deep, rolling fog. Of woodland halls green and cool in summer, little pools and rivulets of cold clear water running out to the sea.
”Are there frogs there, in the pools?” Tanja had asked.
”Beneath verdant leaves and strands of gossamer at the water's edge, or perched on fragrant lilies just beginning to bloom.”

”You’ll want to keep your mouth closed, hard as that might be for you, when the black blizzard comes. ” Their hands were bound well enough to stop spellcasting. Anything that required dexterity was a challenge, so she had to help him fix the cloth in front of his face.
”Might keep my honeyed tongue from drying out.”
”Stay in this broken land long enough, Jasper, and it will regardless.” Peals of thunder rolled around them, reverberating on volcanic rocks that lay black and stark against the dun hills.
”If you think so.”
Tanja studied him carefully. ”Why did they take you prisoner?”
”Murder.”

-----------------

”Who would you prefer to kill you, the Sklar-Quah, or these hill giants?” Tanja watched the growing cloud of dust, felt the earth beneath her shudder. She began to gnaw at her bonds.
”I can’t say I’ve considered it until now.” Jasper’s voice was even, though he was obviously afraid. ”Though I’ve heard that for murder, the Sklar will string a man up and leave him to fry in the sun. Can take days. Longer, if they give him tastes of the water he begs for.”
”Guess you must be relieved to see the giants, then. When you’re looking up at the soles of their feet, you’ll probably be afraid. The feeling will pass quickly.” The camp was in turmoil. A few had already deserted, and the horses that remained were loose. Here and there, people tried to corral them. Most were preparing to make a stand at the far end of camp.
”What do you suppose the giants want? I was hoping to talk my way out of an unhappy ending with the Sklar. Maybe I can do the same with them.”
”The same thing as the orcs.” Tanja’s hands were free. She moved to the cage, chewing at the bars.
”I suppose you’re intimately familiar with that. Tell me. And please, start from the beginning, I’m in no rush.”
Tanja spat out chunks of wood that tasted like grit and ash. ”They want you to love something.”
”Then they’ll think I’m a gift fit for a king. Why in the seven hells would they want that?”
Tanja stepped out of her cage. She looked at Jasper, still stuck in his, and her eyes blazed with a malevolent light. ”So they can kill it cruelly, and watch how it ruins you.”
A passing horse slowed, saddled. Tanja lept onto it and rode off, not looking back

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Tanja rode uphill, fast as she could, until she got a view of the camp. The giants were closing, the pounding of their drums could be heard faintly. A fire was spreading among the tents. Through flecks of ash that spun in the swirling wind, Tanja could see that some of the Lyrune had mounted and were sweeping the area around the camp. ”Must be rounding up the deserters. Disciplined. I need to be the same. Find my things, hope to slip away when battle is joined. Then I can pick up Brega’s trail.” The horse liked the calm, measured sounds of her voice, the way she scratched it’s withers. It was calm now, hers to command.

Tanja tore down the hill at a gallop, moving for Drake-Shooter’s tent. The drums were closer now, rolling booms that could rattle teeth. Inside the tent, Tanja’s greatsword hung in its scabbard. She slung it over one shoulder, opening a chest. Nothing but gold. She grabbed a pouch. Another chest, some frilly clothes dyed bright purple. Bright blue birds embroidered on it, with a matching spell component pouch and a rapier. She left it open, moved to the next chest. Found her armor. Strapped on the breastplate, hands fumbling with the ties. Dropped the helmet on her head, put the rest of the armor in her pack. Her horse was outside, right where she left it. Hideous, inhuman laughter came from the far end of camp, mingled with the screams of the dying. She stood still, listening to the cries. So familiar, no different from the ones she heard in her dreams.

Tanja went back inside the tent, picked up the rapier and the spell component pouch. Rode back to where Jasper was, still stuck in his cage. He hadn’t even managed to get his hands free yet. She dropped the pouch at his feet, cut his bonds, and hacked the cage open with a sweep of her sword.
”Guess they haven't ruined you, then,” he said, as though their conversation was unbroken.
”Not completely.”
”How in Torag’s name do you expect me to fight with just what you’ve brought me? I need my corset at least.”
”Not time to fight, it’s time to run. Can you ride?” Tanja swung up into the saddle, helping him up behind her.
”I know an exceptional poem about a rider. Several.”
”Then hold on tight.”

---------------

Tanja sat in front of Desna’s shrine. It’s chipped, peeling paint was dull blue like shattered dreams.
”I had a glass I looked at like that. You left it for the giants, along with my doublet.”
”A glass?”
”My town was famous for glass that could mesh the light of moon and sun, could catch dragon’s fire between twisted wires of silver and gold. Only thing I had left from the halcyon days of my youth.”
”Stupid to make things out of glass. Pieces of it will chip and shatter over the years, and then you’ll be left with nothing but dust and broken, jagged edges.” Tanja picked up a handful of sand, letting it sift between her fingers.
”All the more impressive, then, that my glass was still in pristine condition. Shiny and clear as though it were still brand new.”
b]”Help me kill the orcs I’m looking for, Jasper, and I’ll buy you a new one.”[/b]

-----------------

”You’re a better armorer than seamstress,” Jasper said, flexing his shoulders inside his new chain shirt.
”For now.”
”Really, it moves with my body like a fish's scales. A lot better than the doublet.”
”You’re going to need that armor soon, when you prove yourself. A person is always either a warrior, or a coward. I can’t wait to find out which one you are.”
They were moving south on foot, getting close to the Storval Rise. Jasper had sold the horse and used most of the rest of their gold to buy supplies. It was far easier for her to travel among the Shoanti, Tanja realized, when she was with a human. She was less than an outlander to these people, a stain on the land no more pleasant to witness than the approach of an emberstorm. And Jasper...had a way with words.
Tanja had originally planned to tell Brega she had orders from Urglin, that he needed to return to the city at once, and that she commanded his raiders now. If he went back to Urglin, she would have followed his trail a day or two later. If he questioned her authority, she would have fought him right then. None of the other orcs would wonder why a change in captain came with the old captain’s death. That plan wouldn’t work anymore. It had been too long since the orcs left Urglin, and she had Jasper with her now. She would need to stalk her prey.

-----------------

”That’s my lion,” Tanja said suddenly, stopping.
”That’s an empty, blasted wasteland,” Jasper said, surveying the Cinderlands. ”Actually, it’s not empty. It’s positively teeming with life, all of which wants to kill us.”
”Zaga and I have a link. He must be close, no more than a mile. Our senses are connected, twin hunters born under the stars, bonded since youth. He gave me these,” Tanja showed him the scars.
”Always wondered why you’re missing half an ear. Explains why you love him.”
”It’s dangerous to love.”
”And yet, here you stand beside me. Plain to see that there’s half a heart in there, at least.”
Tanja didn’t answer. Her eyes had rolled up into her skull. Her head twisted one way and then another, and then she gasped as she came back to herself.
”Time to free Zaga.”

----------------

”Should we...help them?” Jasper and Tanja watched as battle was joined.
”The last time I tried to help the Lyrune-Quah kill Brega and his band of raiders, they put me in a cage next to a scoundrel and a murderer.”
”He sounds dashing.”
”We should get close.” Zaga’s tail was lashing back and forth. ”Whichever side wins, Brega is mine.”

----------------

Tanja stood over Brega’s corpse and sobbed. Below her, the ground heaved and buckled. Above her, racing clouds were torn and rent. Far off, thunder was rumbling. The sounds of battle, close now, twisted in the whistling wind. The cries of the dying were more and more like the ones in Tanja’s dreams. She sank to her knees, gasping, clutching at her throat, screaming and desperate for air.
”I’m sorry, Tanja, I thought you knew.” Jasper was breathing hard, red blood dripping down his face.
”Thought I knew what?” She cried, her voice broken by doleful anguish.
”Killing him would never bring her back.”
”Good point,” Tanja rose, her grief buried beneath a cold, empty fury. There was no life in her eyes. She was all coiled steel and jagged edges, the twisted and merciless warrior she was made to be. ”I better kill Kruga too.”
”Eyes that have seen fire and sword have seen, and horror in the halls of stone, may yet look again on meadows green, and trees and hills they long have known.” Jasper put a hand on Tanja’s shoulder to steady himself. ”Let’s find the road that leads home.”

----------------

When the Lyrune-Quah who survived told stories of that day, they spoke of a bold, handsome outlander who fought with nothing but a slender sword. His powerful voice and clear words had turned the tide of battle, and made him a target for the orcs. When at last he was stricken with mortal wounds, the orcs had dragged his corpse behind the battle line and hacked hatefully at him with cruel swords, so that the ground was mired by his blood. But by then too many of their number had fallen. Soon they broke and fled, a captain with spiked armor and bloody hair leading a few survivors out of bowshot and into the hills. For his heroism, the outlander was given the Shoanti name Steel-Voice, and buried in a high place in the heartlands.
A tall and bloody half orc with a white tiger had walked beside Steel-Voice. Some whisper fearfully of her deeds in the weeks that followed. How she hunted the surviving orcs, each in their turn. Of what fell things she did when she found them, to satisfy her bloodlust, folk tell many tales. They say also that those who met her in that time thought they had witnessed an evil spirit, whose baleful gaze could not be met by mortal eyes. But all agree that before she rose in wrath, the half orc stopped and sat beside Steel-Voice, gazing into his dead and empty eyes. She spoke no words, and would not leave his side until the sun had set and risen again.

Tanja is shockingly young, once you look past her haunted eyes. Sixteen, perhaps, though half orcs grow quickly. She’s taller than most men, and much stronger. Her mother was a beautiful woman, and Tanja might have been, too. She has many, many scars: thin scratchy ones that cross each other on her arms and neck. Wider ones, more cruel, running down one cheekbone and across the fronts of her shoulders. A few war marks on her torso, deep wounds that were intended to kill, not just hurt. She’s missing a chunk of ear and half a pinkie. For all that, she still has a striking appearance, like an Emberstorm lit by crackling thunder and dark fires. People notice Tanja's armor. Made of dark metal stained in an orcish forge, and covering her from head to foot. When he walks beside her, people also comment on her lion, his unnatural paleness or the red of his eyes.

While Tanja’s mother Yenna had a deep connection to her people, the Lyrune-Quah, and to the land, she chose her daughter over everything else. For this, she was exiled, scraping out an existence in the Western Cinderlands, in the foothills of the Wyvern mountains. Although this life was hard, Tanja remembers it with extreme fondness. Her mother was all soft starlight, her radiant beauty not diminished by the darkness that surrounded her.

Alas, that time could not last. When Tanja was seven, she was captured by orcs, her mother cruelly killed trying to rescue her. Forced to watch her own mother’s murder, Tanja will be haunted by the sound of Yenna’s screaming for the rest of her life. She was brought to the orcish city of Urglin, and there she was kept as a prisoner by the orc-prince Grishnakh.

Grishnakh had a foolish idea that she might one day come to see him as a father, and that by weaning her with many hard lessons she would one day see the world through his own twisted eyes. Tanja spent two thousand nine hundred and ten days under the thumb of Grishnakh, and every minute lives on as a stain in her mind. During this time she formed a bond with a white lion named Zaga. Grishnakh realized the depth of this bond. Always eager to inflict a fresh torment which he thought might make Tanja more merciless, he sent Zaga first into an arena where animals fought, and then to live with the Shoanti. Tanja was given to the shamans, whose cruel tutelage broke and then shaped her into something both more and less than human. Tanja’s magical and her martial prowess developed, until she reached adulthood at the age of fifteen.

Tanja left Urglin with her spirit unbroken, planning to take revenge on the orcs who had killed her mother. Apprehended by the Lyrune-Quah, she soon found that the Shoanti would never give her a fair chance among their people. She quickly became an outright prisoner. It was as a prisoner that she formed a bond with Jasper, a Taldan man born in Sandpoint who had killed a member of the Sklar-Quah in a duel outside Kaer Maga. His golden tongue whispered of a world more full of life than the one Tanja had known. The band that had captured them both were planning to give Jasper to the Shundar-Quah, but while travelling in the lands of the Spire-Clan they were attacked by marauding hill giants.
In the chaos, Tanja escaped. Here she proved to have a little good in her heart; rather than leaving Jasper to die, she saved him. He convinced her to go back to Sandpoint with him, once her quest for revenge was finished. Jasper and Tanja found Zaga, Tanja’s lion, among the Shoanti. Tanja felt there was more to life than a desperate struggle to survive, somewhere greener and cooler than the Cinderlands. But revenge still had to come first. Because of the bond Jasper had formed with the half-orc, because he had little chance of crossing the Cinderlands alone, and because she had saved his life, Jasper agreed to help Tanja find and kill the orcs who had murdered Yenna.

In the end, revenge brought only more disappointment. Tanja found the orcs that had killed her mother, who were met by a band of Lyrune-Quah warriors. Tanja entered the Shoanti camp and killed the captain of the orc band while battle raged nearby. Overwhelmed by the fact that this provided her no restoration, no retribution, and no relief of any kind, Tanja broke down. Jasper pleaded with her to abandon her revenge while the orcs fought with the Shoanti nearby. But Tanja pressed forward, still hoping to find the orc who had been personally responsible for killing Yenna. In doing so, Tanja led Jasper to his death.
Tanja remembers the following weeks as an evil dream. She hunted the last of the orcs who had fled from the Shoanti warriors, until at last she found the one who had killed her mother. The cycle of revenge complete, Tanja fell into a deep despair. In honor of her friend’s memory, she decided to go to Sandpoint. It was what Jasper would have wanted her to do. Still, Tanja wondered every day of the journey whether life was worth living.

Upon arriving in Sandpoint, and learning that the town was beset by evil forces, Tanja felt new life awakening in her. Tanja has never had anything to fight for. The orcs were evil, the Shoanti rejected her, and her mother was murdered. She’s been driven to violence out of a need to survive and a desire for revenge. But now, she can fight for others, and she’s desperate to do so. Sandpoint must be worth preserving, it produced the second person who ever truly saw good in Tanja. It’s a place that could give many people the childhood she never had. And it’s the place Jasper called home. Tanja is wracked with guilt, because she bears some responsibility for Jasper’s death, and if she can save his town, it might bring her a little redemption.

The road to Sandpoint had been long, the journey made slower by the persistent drizzle and the slick, muddy roads. But Helgash didn’t mind the discomfort. He had heard what he needed to hear, and that was enough. The sheriff’s request hadn’t been addressed to him. It hadn’t even been directed to the church. Just a meeting, overheard by a watch sergeant in the lower barracks. Goblin activity. Burned farms. A town in need of help. That had been enough.

He had left Magnimar the same day, traveling alone. He was no stranger to duty, even when the call came unbidden - Sandpoint needed assistance, and after a short discussion with Father Almerius - one that didn’t require much persuasion - it was agreed that he would offer it.

As he neared the town, the drizzle seemed to lighten, though the chill in the air was sharp. The smell of the sea mingled with the earthy scent of rain-soaked wood.

After some interaction with the locals, Helgash made his way directly to the Rusty Dragon Inn, where travelers and locals would gather. He needed information, and the best place to find it was where people were already talking. Besides, it was a place to rest, even if only for a brief moment.

As he entered the inn, the warmth and the scent of food welcomed him, a welcome change from the cold dampness of the road. The chatter of the room seemed to slow for a moment, eyes turning to take in the armored figure who had just walked in, but Helgash paid no mind to the attention, offered a nodded greeting, and a smile.

He moved directly to the bar, his cloak still damp. "Good evening," he said in a steady tone, his voice carrying easily. But then he hesitated, uncertain of how to phrase his next words. He wasn’t the type to offer empty promises or grandiose gestures, but the matter at hand was clear enough.

"I know Sandpoint has faced some unfortunate events recently," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "The goblins, the fires... I heard about it through a few of the men from the Watch back in Magnimar. Word travels quickly...” His eyes softened slightly, the earnestness in his voice unmistakable. "I’ve traveled to lend a hand," he said, his voice steady. "If there’s a way I can be of use, I’ll do what I can."

Jerta Kilamo
Female half-orc shaman 4 (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Class Guide 35)
NG Medium humanoid (human, orc)
Init +8; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +17
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 19, touch 13, flat-footed 17 (+6 armor, +1 deflection, +2 Dex)
hp 28 (4d8+8)
Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +8
Defensive Abilities orc ferocity
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor)
Melee longspear +4 (1d8+1/×3)
Ranged orc hornbow +5 (2d6+1/×3)
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft. (10 ft. with longspear)
Special Attacks channel positive energy 3/day (DC 15, 2d6), hexes (chant, fortune[APG])
Shaman Spells Prepared (CL 4th; concentration +7)
. . 2nd—augury, bull's strength, cure moderate wounds; lesser restoration[S]
. . 1st—cure light wounds, goodberry, magic weapon, obscuring mist; detect undead[S]
. . 0 (at will)—create water, detect magic, guidance, stabilize
. . S spirit magic spell; Spirit Life
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 12, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 16, Cha 14
Base Atk +3; CMB +5; CMD 17 (15 vs. dirty trick)
Feats Agile Maneuvers, Alertness, Combat Expertise, Deadly Aim, Power Attack, Selective Channeling, Skill Focus (Perception)
Traits dangerously curious, reactionary, student of faith
Skills Acrobatics -2 (-6 to jump), Diplomacy +9, Heal +7, Intimidate +4, Knowledge (engineering) +2, Knowledge (geography) +2, Knowledge (history) +2, Knowledge (nobility) +2, Linguistics +5, Perception +17, Ride +2, Sense Motive +5, Spellcraft +7, Stealth -1, Survival +7, Swim -2, Use Magic Device +10; Racial Modifiers +2 Intimidate
Languages Common, Elven, Giant, Orc, Shoanti, Thassilonian, Undercommon
SQ finesse weapon attack attribute, naive, orc blood, spirit animal (greensting scorpion named Arcane Familiar)
Other Gear breastplate, longspear, orc hornbow (+1 Str), cloak of resistance +1, eyes of the eagle, ring of protection +1, 65 gp
--------------------
Special Abilities
--------------------
Agile Maneuvers Use DEX instead of STR for CMB
Chant (Su) As a move action, extend the duration of other hexes by 1 rd.
Combat Expertise +/-1 Bonus to AC in exchange for an equal penalty to attack.
Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white only).
Deadly Aim -1/+2 Trade a penalty to ranged attacks for a bonus to ranged damage.
Deliver Touch Spells Through Familiar (Su) Your familiar can deliver touch spells for you.
Empathic Link with Familiar (Su) You have an empathic link with your Arcane Familiar.
Familiar Bonus: +4 bonus on initiative checks You gain the Alertness feat while your familiar is within arm's reach.
Finesse Weapon Attack Attribute Finesse weapons use Dexterity on attack rolls.
Fortune (1 round) (Su) Ally in 30 ft can roll 2d20 for an attack, save, ability, or skill check (and take higher) once/rd.
Naive -2 to AC vs. improvised weapons.
Orc Blood Half-orcs count as both humans and orcs for any effect related to race.
Orc Ferocity (1/day) If brought below 0 Hp, can act as though disabled for 1 rd.
Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
Selective Channeling Exclude targets from the area of your Channel Energy.
Shaman Channel Positive Energy 2d6 (3/day, DC 15) (Su) Positive energy heals the living and harms the undead; negative has the reverse effect.
Share Spells with Familiar Can cast spells with a target of "You" on the familiar with a range of touch.
Spirit Animal (spirit animal (greensting scorpion named Arcane Familiar)) If spirit animal is slain, cannot use spirit magic or prepare new spells.

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I would curse but that is most unladylike. the quite muscular tiefling whispers to herself as she strains against the manacles binding her to a highly uncomfortable wooden table like bed.
Theory. I have been captured by a deranged Aasimar Lamashtu cultist named Nualia. Likely for the purpose of being turned to the dark powers, or alternatively to be sacrificed for some dark ritual. Evasion is existential either way. Audible sounds of combat indicate that either an internal conflict or an external rescue or invasion attempt is ongoing, giving me a time window to affect my escape. the tiefling, muses, quite calmly
Practica, the manacles are beyond even my considerable physical strength to break, yet the bed could be broken, as it is primarily made of wood.
the tiefling stretches
Theory, dislocating both of my shoulders should allow me to twist, and bring my fangs to bear on the wood connecting to the manacles.
Practica, ouch, that hurts, and the wood NOM tastes exactly like it smells NOM like but... I need to imagine it NOM as the taste of freedom NOM. She twists, her shoulder plopping out of their sockets with a somewhat sickening plop, followed by the sound of rather strong teeth biting through wood.
Now to attempt the reinsertion of my shoulders into their sockets useing my tail and the wall. I am certain that this... HMMMPPFFF ok that was one HMMMMPFF that was the other. Bruised and battered, the tiefling reassembled herself.
Theory and practica, good thing I am a Paladin. She smiles as she touches herself with some healing light.
Theory, manacles still attached to me wrists can be used as albeit inferior improvised weaponry. I should best lay in ambush to assault any goblin who opens the door, as lockpicking is not part of me hmm
The still unarmed tiefling carefully touches the door.
Practica, the mercenary Osrik Vancaskerkin, also noted for not torturing or mistreating me, apparently left the cell door unlocked. Too smart to burn all of his bridges to the forces of good, or subconciously expressed desire to be captured and for that Nualias plans to fail? Either way, evident redemption potential. she nods as she surveys her surroundings
Theory, did they actually leave most of my gear in a pile close to my place of imprisonment? Is this possibly some Lamashtan rite to gain her favor by behaving like a cliche villain in some operatic play? Or perhaps simple disorganization due to demonic influences? Or assuming that I would fall soon and join her organization? Who knows. Not relevant to current situation.
The tiefling thinks as a weapon belt, and quickly affixes several other weapons to it, before taking a heafty looking lucerne hammer into both hands.

Practica, it would take a while to get my into my plate armor unassisted, I judge that initiative is more important, as such as I should instead utilize my Reach weapon for now, my priority must be to link up with the force assaulting the compound, and provide what aid I can.
A feral grin emergey upon her controlled face as she sets out towards the din of battle.

Lithe and slender, Jasper’s a handsome man. He favors vibrant colors, especially royal purple and bright blue. Though he’s used to wearing his hair long, he cut it short recently. The Cinderlands were far too dry, and left him with split ends. He wears a necklace of tiger’s teeth underneath the ruffles of his doublet, which he touches when he Channels Energy. He carries a small pack and a long rapier with a swept hilt. Upon returning to Sandpoint, he’s commissioned a flag which he carries in one hand. It is split between a green and blue field, with a crumbling tower set in the middle.

I have a strong enough sense of Jasper to say that the following words apply:
Confident
Audacious
Intense
Perceptive
Poetic
Effeminate
Expressive
Affirming
Supportive
Quick-witted

The only thing he loves more than cutting pompous nobles down to size with a few choice words is building up people who can’t see the best in themselves.

Jasper learned to eat using a silver spoon. His mind has always soared and spun like a kite pinned to a tree, but he was a quiet child. Handsome and well spoken, Jasper got along well with others. Reserved and shy, he spent more time alone in the woods than he did with other children. Alicious, his father, said he was proud of Jasper for getting child parts at Drokkus’s theatre. Jasper knew what pride looked like on Alivious’s face. Jasper saw it when Alicious watched Tommen, his firstborn son, prove himself the best youth with an abacus in all of Sandpoint. Again, when Tommen achieved rank as one of the town guard at just fifteen.

There were a few things that Jasper did better than Tommen, romance chief among them. He still remembers Lupine, his first love. She displayed a nascent magical talent. Watching her learn spells that might one day roast a man in his armor was a wonder, one that thrilled Jasper with thoughts of adventure and conjured to his mind visions of mighty heroes and malevolent villains. Encouraging Lupine to go to Magnimar to study wizardry, Jasper resolved himself to be content with the mundane drudgery of the family business. Years passed.

Resolute as he was, in the end, a man cannot deny his desire. Desire to do more, to be more. Jasper went to Magnimar, driving a wagon of strong spirits beside Tommen. Tommen drove that wagon back to Sandpoint alone, wondering all the while why his shadow was so suddenly empty. Jasper rediscovered his interest in theatre, rekindling something inside him that had been cold as ash. To his everlasting joy, he found that pure artistic expression brought magic to his fingertips.

Sophistication, elegance, confidence. These were the traits Jasper sought in moving to Korvosa. He gathered them all, and more. There was a time, when he was younger, when Jasper had showed Tommen how to dance with a rapier. His older brother had wondered at the place for such a weapon on a battlefield, against armored knights and blocks of infantry holding polearms. Jasper had the swept hilt of his rapier gilded with silver flowers, so that it matched his well decorated form at more than one grand ball. But Jasper found that pageantry, grand and ostentatious as it might be, left him a hollow taste like strong spirits on a drunken man’s tongue. Though he continued performing in Korvosa’s theatres, he grew less inspired with each passing season. Jasper wanted to write plays rather than act in them, and he found he had nothing to write.

Kaer Maga seethed with adventure. A man, dressed in the height of contemporary fashion, climbed to it’s highest structure and gazed north across the Cinderlands. He was quickly trapped there, embroiled in adventure that pulled at his mortal soul the way the ocean can pull a man under. The man found that he had much to write about, as his eyes were clouded by sorrows and hardship. And there was a woman, always a woman, who caught his eye though she was betrothed to a Shoanti man. The Shoanti man met him outside the walls of Kaer Maga, and there found death.

Jasper was captured by the Lyrune-Quah and marched steadily north. His desire for adventure much diminished, Jasper found his desire for life burned more ardently than ever. Fortunately, he was saved from an unhappy end by a curious half-orc girl. Cloaked in a dour determination darker than her black armor, her baleful eyes bespoke a life as hard and merciless as the broken land on which they walked. Jasper followed her South across the Cinderlands, giving a hope that was as foreign to her as fog over a seaside village. When her quest for revenge was complete, the girl stood locked in a grim embrace of death, meeting the gaze of the orc who had killed her mother. Jasper’s heart was moved by his new companion’s untimely end.

Having drunk deep enough from the cup of adventure for one lifetime, Jasper avoided Kaer Maga on his journey home. He fears to set foot in that city again, for if he does, he will need to repay a debt to a dangerous half-elf. Rather than going to Korvosa to write plays, as he had once planned, Jasper has decided that it’s time to return to Sandpoint. What he needs now is a peaceful place, away from Unpleasantness.

Jasper
CG Human Bard (Arcane Healer) 3
Senses Perception +7, Initiative +7

HP 4d8+4+3 (28)
AC 18 (+3 Dex, +5 Armor)
Fort +3 Ref +8 Will +5 {+4 vs sonic/bardic/language}

Speed 30ft
Reach 5ft

Assuming Flagbearer, Bardic Performance are both active
Mwk Rapier +9 (1d8+2) 18-20
Mwk Light Crossbow +9 (1d8+2) 19-20

Spells Known (CL 4th, Concentration +7)
0th - Read Magic, Detect Magic, Ghost Sound, Dancing Lights, Prestidigitation, Oath of Anonymity
1st - 4/day (DC 14) - Cure Light Wounds, Hideous Laughter, Silent Image, Saving Finale, Vanish
2nd - 2/day (DC 15) - Cure Moderate Wounds, Heroism

Channel Energy 3/day, 2d6, DC 15
Bardic Performance rounds: 13/day

STR 10 / DEX 16 / CON 12 / INT 13 / WIS 10 / CHA 16
BaB +3, CMB +3, CMD 16
Feats: Flagbearer, Improved Initiative (Human Bonus), Extra Channel
Traits: Overwhelming Beauty (+1 DC to mind affecting vs Humans), Extremely Fashionable (+1 to Bluff, Diplomacy, Intimidate when decently clad), Eager Performer (+1 to Perform Act, +1 DC to Hideous Laughter)

Skills 32 ranks total
Perception 4 ranks, +3 class (+7)
Sense Motive 4 ranks, +3 class (+7)
Diplomacy 4 ranks, +3 class, +3 Cha, +1 trait (+11)
Bluff 3 ranks, +3 class, +3 Cha, +1 trait (+10)
Perform (Oratory) 2 ranks, +3 class, +3 Cha, (+8)
Stealth 2 ranks, +3 class, +3 Dex (+8)
Acrobatics 2 ranks, +3 class, +3 Dex (+8)
Intimidate 1 rank, +3 class, +3 Cha, +1 trait (+8)
Disguise 1 rank, +3 class, +3 Cha (+7)
Climb 1 rank, +3 class (+4)
Escape Artist 1 rank, +3 class, +3 Dex (+7)
Spellcraft 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)
Knowledge (Arcana) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 Bard (+7)
Knowledge (Dungeoneering) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 Bard (+7)
Knowledge (Local) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 Bard (+7)
Knowledge (Nature) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 Bard (+7)
Knowledge (Planes) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 Bard (+7)
Knowledge (Religion) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 Bard (+7)

Background Skills 8 ranks
Perform (Act) 4 ranks, +3 class, +3 Cha, +1 trait (+11)
Perform (Dance) 3 ranks, +3 class, +3 Cha, (+9)
Perform (Sing) 1 rank, +3 class, +3 Cha (+7)

+1 Mithral Chain Shirt 2100 GP
Masterwork Rapier 320 GP
Masterwork Light Crossbow 335 GP
Cloak of Resistance +1 1000 GP
Wand of Cure Light Wounds 50/50 750 GP
The Height of Contemporary Fashion 150 GP
Sandpoint Flag 10 GP
Potion of CLW x2 100 GP
Scrolls
Remove Fear x3 75 GP
Share Language 25 GP
Glitterdust 150 GP
Ghostbane Dirge 150 GP
Honeyed Tongue 200 GP
Lesser Restoration x2 300 GP
Will review gear again if selected

Remaining money: 335 GP

Class features:
Mostly standard Bard. I’ll list them if selected

Jasper is a passable healer, marginally worse than a cleric who didn’t optimize for healing abilities (at this level). He can channel energy and spontaneously cast cure spells, albeit with fewer slots per day than a cleric. His channel energy is at character level -1, so it will be behind by 1d6 at odd levels, however unlike a cleric he will be able to channel more times per day as he levels up (currently 3, next increase at 6th). He will also gain the ability to convert extra rounds of Bardic Performance into healing starting at level 5, and Soothing Performance is an even better way to do that at level 12. Sometime between now and level 7, he will also most likely learn a bardic masterpiece that lets him convert Performance rounds into Shield Other.

Jasper is entirely intended to be a support character. He has Flabgearer, Inspire Courage, and other Bardly mainstays like Saving Finale and Heroism. I get the sense that the party would actually appreciate this more than a dedicated healer. For example, the party entered the most recent fight at full health, so I don’t think out of combat healing played a role in that combat. In that fight, Jasper would have filled the support role via Remove Fear, buffing attack and damage, and Channeling once multiple party members were down. He does not need to use his spell slots on Divine Favor or Lead Blades (though he thinks Heroism would probably be better for everyone’s health than CMW).

If you’re looking for a character whose first words each morning are “born to heal, baby,” Jasper isn’t that. If you’re looking for someone who’s good enough at healing and overall great at support, you know who to call.

”So, in short, you cheated on your partner,” Mia summarized towards the closed curtain. She sighed under her breath - of her new tasks, the Confessional was the most problematic one - It most underlined her lack of experience as a priestess. Especially concerning Shelyn’s doctrine! But what could be expected, when the goddess had accepted her, a former street thief, barely two months ago into her servants? And with how Father Zanthus could only spare so much time for her instructions?

”Ah, well... yes, Mother.” The man on the other side of the curtain replied.

”Meaning, you feel guilty and seek Shelyn’s forgiveness?”

”No, Mother.”

She blinked. ”No? What do you mean; ‘no’?”

”Well... I really liked her and would like to do it again?”

”...Let me get this straight. You’re openly admitting to adultery yet ask the servant of a love Goddess – who is technically also a member of the town guard - permission to be a repeat offender?”

There was a shuffle on the other side. ”If that’s possible without getting cursed to eternal unhappiness in the ways of love?”

Mia stared, slowly turning to glance at her copy of 'The melodies of Inner Beauty' . As a priestess of Shelyn, the doctrine said she was supposed to nurture new love. So why oh why didn’t it say anything about whether protecting established relationships came first or whether it was the other way around!?

Okay, Plan B: Sidestepping and probing questions. Lots and lots of probing questions – have people make their own conclusions. It didn't require much knowledge, and few things made you appear more knowledgeable or likeable then pushing them in the direction they had already chosen for themselves anyway.

She ignored the pang of loss - one of father's lessons.

”I believe I have to know more. First, why did do you it?”

”I… wasn’t happy. I worked myself to the bone everyday, did everything she asked, but she kept showing less interest. She became more and more critical of me and didn’t make time for the two of us like we used to.”

”Poor sod. Was she ever really into him at all? Sound like she plucked him like a feather - at best. At worst, she's probably been cheating on him for a while too, but he’s too dumb to notice. Or maybe he isn’t and did this out of revenge, but doesn’t want to admit that - maybe even to himself.”

The half-elf shook her head. That was her assuming the worst in people. That line of thinking worked well if you had to fend for yourself. But maybe that was wrong. Sandpoint was a fairly small community and many people knew eachother. If that had been the case, someone near him or his family would have told him… right?

But what would a priest say?

”It sounds like the feelings of love the two of you had for each other have waned. Perhaps it is time to go your separate ways? That way, you wouldn’t have to cheat. ”

A master's guide to pointing out the obvious - by Mia Vespertine. Get yours now at just ten gold a piece!

”There is no shame in being honest. Many relationships do not work out, after all.” She added. "Love cannot work in a relationship if both sides are not happy." 'I think? It's not like I would know.'

But the man on the other side of the curtain was silent, apparently pondering the workds. ”I see. Thank you, Mother.” He eventually said. And with that, he was gone.

And so was she. She desperately needed some fresh air after hours of doing this. And it was time for her shift anyway.

Outside, her partner was waiting. Clive's shit-eating grin faded when she exited the temple. ”Something wrong, Freckles?”

”The full version?”

”Try me.”

”I am. And trust me, indulging in your company requires the patience of a saint.”

”Problem solved, I say! Who better to advise is lowly commoners than a saint?”

She gave him a playful punch, then sobered. ”I just... feel I'm not doing a good job being a priestess,” Mia admitted, staring over the town square from the Cathedral.

”I don't think I'm even remotely qualified to listen to people and give them advice on topics I barely know anything about myself. I just straight-up told a man to end his relationship, maybe even his marriage, based on a one-sided story with the barest amount of details. And he bought it. That sort of thing can drastically alter or ruin someone's life. I'm afraid people drastically overvalue my opinion as a priestess. That I apparently have a gift for channeling divine power doesn't mean I have the wisdom of a goddess.”

The senior actual guardsman patted her on the shoulder. ”You know, and I mean this sincerely, that you're actually worrying about this stuff is progress.”

”That doesn't make it any better.”

”No, but then again, Elmar's girl hasn't exactly... been 'his girl' for a while. He's probably better off without her and whatever remained of the relationship was doomed anyway. If I had to bet, he was only here for the formality of consulting the clergy. And the gods, of course,” he added apologetically.

”Wait. Are you telling me that you were listening in?”

He shrugged. ”I have eyes. Last one to leave before you. Doesn't take much to put two and two together.”

She stared at him.

”Okay, I *might* have gone in to briefly check if my beloved partner was all right in there. Day's so hot, you might have just spontaneously evaporated in that booth. And I may or may not have overheard some things.” He shrugged.

She snorted at the mental image. ”Honestly? I almost wish I did. People talk. A lot. And I *have* to listen. Half the things, I wish I could forget right away.”

”And I know just the thing for that! Drinks at the Rusty Dragon. Let's say the first one is on me.”

The half-elf raised an eyebrow. ”Alcohol during the day? No, not just during the day, but during our shift? While I am here in penal servitude?”

He flashed another grin. ”It's called ‘inspection duty’. And we best get it done now, before the festival starts in earnest. Better make sure there isn't a nest of dragons of wyverns down there while we can, no?”

She couldn't help it – she laughed. ”Okay then. Lead the way, my oh so experienced one year senior.”