1 Spell Focus Evocation
H Spell Specialization (Burning Hands)
Trait 1 Envoy of Healing (Reroll 1s when using Channel Energy to heal)
Trait 2 Sensitive Mind (+1 Sense Motive, Appraise and Perception. Perception becomes a class skill. Can use psychometry occult skill unlock once a week.)
Total skillpoints - 10 (2+1+2 * 2) | * = class skill
1 Perception* +9
2 Sense Motive* +9
3 Appraise* +6
4 Knowledge History* +5
5 Diplomacy* +7
Language 1 Common
Weapon and Armor Proficiency: all simple weapons and scimitar, light and medium armor and shields.
Aura (Ex): A cleric of a chaotic, evil, good, or lawful deity has a particularly powerful aura corresponding to the deity’s alignment (see detect evil for details).
Domain: Fire 1 Burning Hands
Fire Bolt (Sp): As a standard action, you can unleash a scorching bolt of divine fire from your outstretched hand. You can target any single foe within 30 feet as a ranged touch attack with this bolt of fire. If you hit the foe, the fire bolt deals 1d6 points of fire damage + 1 point for every two cleric levels you possess. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Wisdom modifier.
Focused Domain: A theologian chooses only one domain from her deity’s portfolio rather than the normal two domains. All level-dependent effects of the granted powers from the theologian’s domain function as if she were two cleric levels higher than her actual cleric level. This does not allow her to gain domain-granted powers earlier than normal. A theologian can prepare domain spells using her non-domain slots. She cannot use her spontaneous casting ability on domain spells, even if they are prepared in non-domain slots. In all other respects, this works like and replaces the standard cleric domain ability.
Skilled Bonus Feat
Scimitar, Dagger, Heavy Wooden Shield, Scalemail
Kit, Cleric’s (a backpack, a bedroll, a belt pouch, candles (10), a cheap holy text, a flint and steel, an iron pot, a mess kit, rope, soap, a spell component pouch, torches (10), trail rations (5 days), a waterskin, and a wooden holy symbol)(32 lbs), Medium Tent (30 lbs), Crowbar (5 lbs), Shovel (8 lbs)
Total weight: 115 lbs - medium load
41 GP, 0 SP 0 CP
Strength 14 - Light Load 58 lbs or less - Medium Load 59-116 lbs - Heavy Load 117-175 lbs
"You've been found guilty on all counts of banditry, arson, and acts of violence. You have shown no remorse throughout these hearings, actively protected your fellow bandits, and done all you could to frustrate our search for truth. For you, mister Hajah, await the gallows."
Oh, life before that damn day had been so bloody simple. So bloody simple. Coming from poverty, it seemed only reasonable to take what you need to sustain yourself. And sure, sometimes one needs some spare coin for say, a night out at a brothel with your comrades. It's not like them filthy rich merchants were going to do any good with that coin anyway. They had been thick as blood, Auryl and his companions. Thieves, bandits and thugs. All of them were flawed and, in one way or another, despicable individuals.
None of them had been spared by divine intervention save for Auryl. For them, the rope hadn't snapped. Their necks, those had snapped, broken by the weight of their bodies as they fell down the scaffolding. For Auryl, it had been a new start. As the rope snapped a local priest stepped forth and, upon inspecting the criminal's neck, insisted it was divine providence. "Ha, my arse it is!", but when a priest insists it is the will of his God only a foolish commoner would risk his ire.
The cancellation of his trip to the afterlife was anything but a return to freedom. The rope might've snapped, but he was now tied to the whims of a Goddess he did not understand. "Sarenrae", so the priest explained, "has seen the seed of redemption within you, a chance to change bad into good, to turn destruction into creation." The yokel inside him resisted the message, but the scar tissue around his neck was a permanent reminder of why he is still around. The first few months after he had recovered were spend doing menial labor, but as the dreams of fire came to Auryl, the priest drew the former bandit further and further into Sarenrae's arms through sacred rituals. For in him, so the priest said, burns the fire of redemption. Two years went by before the Goddess truly expressed herself through him: Auryl snoozed off during prayer, only to wake up to his hands burning with a divine radiance that healed those he touched. "Find redemption, my son, and bring joy to those around you."
Like that, the roof above his head disappeared, but this time Auryl would not need resort to banditry to sustain himself. A fire now burns inside him, one talking to him with two voices: his and hers.
But even now, years later, the dreams, those horrid dreams, they keep on coming. Relentlessly they assail Auryl whenever he closes his eyes, bombarding the man's mind with visions of guilt, ever able to find new angles from which to hurt the man. No matter how many peasants he saves through healing or divine aid, the coming of night continues to fill him with dread.
And so, driven through fear and exhaustion - how much longer can he take this before his fire burns out?! - he seeks help. Any help. All Auryl wants is to find rest. To fall asleep and wake up the next day feeling rested. No more nightmares.