Brigid auf Whitehelm's page

Hi! Let me present Brigid of Whitehelm, a veteran of Book 1 of Kingmaker. The game fizzled a very short way into the second book several years back. Brigid is a fighter specialized in archery. She's stoic, having survived a great tragedy in her village far to the north -- something that she does not speak of, even though she wears the pain of the tragedy like another suit of armor.

Several snippets of her memories are in the profile, so you can check those out and get a sense of my writing style.

It looks like you've got a fair amount of archery in your group already. I could change a couple things to give her a little more emphasis on her zweihänder (two-handed sword), if that's the group consensus.

That's so sad to hear about your situation. Best wishes and prayers in your direction.

Don't feel bad about dropping the game -- yes, it's been a blast so far and I thank you for that. And I agree with Svetlana, there's no reason to be embarrassed. It's not your fault.

I have no plans to leave these boards, so if -- when life gets back on track, drop me a line and say hi.

We can bot the GM????

:D

We'll be here. Don't look at this until your eyes are better!

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20
Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18

Brigid moves along with the party with an arrow nocked. She stays alert and wary, studying each sizable tree for signs of unnatural movement.

Brigid pulls the stag's helm over her head once more as she unlimbers her bow. She nods to the dryad once, while keeping a sidelong glance at the satyr.

"Agreed," she says to Svetlana. She moves back to Zelter and climbs into the saddle.

Ready to move out!

Brigid blinks away her wonder at the fey beings for a moment as she considers doing battle with a tree that eats flesh. Then she remembers their original purpose. "Svetlana, ve must remember Damen. Ve need the sap of this tree for his cure," she gently reminds the priestess, leaving her to do the delicate work of trading their services for the tree's lifeblood.

Brigid grows a bit more wary when she notices the satyr's look at Svetlana, but she makes no move. After the dryad speaks, her expression becomes puzzled.

"A scythe... tree? How can a tree move?"

Brigid shoulders her bow and pulls the stag's helm off her head as she regards, wide-eyed, the fey beings before her. It was a wonder to behold: their strange natures, their oneness with nature. She blinks a few times as she approaches cautiously. She had heard stories of the dangers of fey, but seeing the fear in their eyes caught her off guard. She realized she didn't have anything to say, but she was not one for words anyway. "I am Brigid," she states plainly.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15

Brigid looks about the glade, then her head is drawn up and up as she looks into the eaves of the great oak. "This is the home of the dryad?" she asks.

Brigid nods as she pulls the stag's helm over her head and climbs into Zelter's saddle. She urges her mount to follow and keep pace with the odd knight and steed.

"Hot springs!" Brigid says in excitement as she eagerly accepts Garuum's invitation to bathe. She pulls off the chain shirt she customarily wears at night and slips out of the rest of her clothes as she moves to the steaming pools. She slowly lowers herself into the water and luxuriates in the spring for a while. When she climbs out, her pale skin is red and flushed as the steam rises off her.

She lets the cold morning air dry her off as she prepares her gear for the morning, heedless of her nudity. She then clothes herself and dons her armor before joining Garuum for breakfast. "Thank you for sharing your springs. The vater vas a delight."

Brigid sits and listens quietly to Garuum's story, and when it comes to a close she finds herself quite impressed with the being. She touches her bow to her forehead and nods in his direction.

I'm good to continue.

Brigid eats and listens quietly to the conversation between Garuum and Svetlana, staying alert and watchful, but also marveling at the friendly being and wondering how he would be received at her old home.

Brigid watches the exchange between their strange host and Svetlana with intense interest. She had no idea such creatures existed, much less could speak and interact as people. She stayed silent and wary, not wanting to disrupt Svetlana's diplomacy, but also keeping alert for signs of falsehood in Garuum.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
When Svetlana invites him along in their search for the dryad, her eyes widen in surprise. She is even more surprised when her request is accepted.

When he suggests starting out in the morning, she nods her head and breaks her silence. "Yes, that is good. Ve vould be happy to share our provisions vith you. Ve have dried meats, hard cheeses and rolls. Is this pleasing to you?"

We're probably a bit more powerful than what the Pathfinder AP usually plans for, though I don't know if it's enough to make up for the lack of a fourth player.

I would prefer to continue for a while, give Damen a little more time to come back to us, and if it's looking like we're struggling, then we either pick up a new player or an NPC. In a couple levels, we could also start taking cohorts with the Leadership feat, too!

Brigid tilts her head as she regards the creature, but she says nothing.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22

Wearing the stag's helm and keeping her bow in one hand, Brigid stays wary as they approach the stone ruins.

Brigid dismounts, and leads Zelter by the reigns while she walks through the woods. She follows Paetyr about twenty feet behind him, keeping her bow in her other hand.

Merry Christmas as well!

"I vill cover you," Brigid says as she nocks an arrow and takes a quarter draw.

I've been bugging Koren's player, but he's got his hands pretty full. I don't think he's out just yet, and hopefully he'll be posting more often after the holidays.

Brigid's mouth twists, but she says nothing. She puts the stag's helm on her head and rides, staying wary as they move into the forest.

Brigid shakes her head. "No. I meant the ingredients that vere stolen. Vhat vill they do for the East Vind?"

A jade fire kindles in Brigid's eyes as she listens to Svetlana describe the attack on Bokken's homestead. Her face grows even harder as she looks over the destroyed house and gardens. She wars for a moment between searching for the tree sap and going after the giant.

Finally, she relents and turns Zelter toward the forest. Before they get far from Bokken's, though, she turns and asks Svetlana, "Did he say vhat the reagents vill do, once combined?"

Brigid stays silent and alert, staying a good distance behind Svetlana. She sits high in her saddle, bow strung and in hand but no arrow nocked.

Without looking in his direction, she whispers low to Paetr. "You are a tracker, no? See if there are tracks about that vould reveal an attack."

Brigid's interest in a revel was muted after the attack. She couldn't bring herself to drink as much as she had planned, and her hair was back in its braid that night, but she still sang songs and told stories of Kent and Rangnar until finally retiring for the night.

The next morning she was back to her stoic self, and watched Jhod intently as he explained Damen's sudden illness. She immediately set herself to preparing for the journey, procuring an assortment of arrows and packing the saddlebags.

She is ready in short order, but takes a moment to find the house where Damen is resting. She looks on him briefly, only saying to him, "I vill not let you die in bed. You deserve a varrior's death, on your feet. Rest vell." Before he has any chance to respond, she is out and heading to where Zelter stands, saddled and ready.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11

Brigid twists her mouth while Svelana works her charms on the newcomer. She steps away for a moment and finishes twining her hair into its customary braid.

Brigid looks slightly uncomfortable at the compliment to her beauty, realizes that her hair is loose and flowing, so she hastily pulls it back and ties it behind her.

At Koren's statement about the enemy caster, her face grows tight and her eyes hard. "Did you hear the voice as vell? Ve must discuss tonight's attack, and your counsel vould be velcome."

Taking Zelter's reigns in hand, she walks her horse toward the remains of the night's bonfire. Once there, she has someone lead the horse to the stables while she stands, back to the fire, watching, while they wait for Svetlana, Damen and the fey to arrive.

Brigid sighs, then turns her attention to the village listening for further signs of disturbance. If nothing calls her away, she looks back to the fae and touches her bow to her forehead. "It is good to see you again, and that you vish to defend these people. Did you come for Kent's revel? He died in battle, and ve vere going to sing of him this night. You are velcome to join us, if the attacks have not soured our spirits tonight."

Turning to Svetlana and Damen, she says, "I vill get your brother and the one who raised the alarm. Ve vill meet you at the fire."

She then rides back to the gates. She nods at Paetyr and looks at the other man. "Did you summon the glowving dust? That is useful magics. I am Brigid, of Vhitehelm, daughter of Oigrun. Meeting in battle is alvays vell met."

She dismounts and extends her hand in greeting.

Brigid runs a hand over her face and stays silent.

The only trophy I can think of is the Stag Lord's helm, even though I think it has been associated with Erastil.

Brigid hisses through her teeth as her last arrow fails to strike, and then the light goes out. She slowly replaces a fourth arrow she had drawn and sits back down in the saddle.

Grabbing ahold of the reigns again, she turns Zelter back to the group. She gives a nod of greeting to the unfamiliar man who had called for them. "This is a night of strangeness. Svetlana, Damen, I need you vith me. Our friends from the forest have caught something."

To Paetyr and the others around, she speaks, "Stay alert. This night may yet have threats." She urges Zelter at an easy pace to allow her companions to follow.

As they return to the spot where she met the fae, she tells them, "Our friends, the ævintýri from the voods. You called them... faerie? They are here."

I've got pretty good range with my bow. Can I take a few shots at range?
5'-110' -- No range penalty
110'-220' -- -2 penalty
220'-330' -- -4 penalty, etc. up to 10 range increments (1100 Feet!)

Brigid draws her arrow back to her ear and accounting for wind, she lets it fly.

Ranged: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (14) + 13 = 27 Minus whatever for range
Damage: 1d8 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

Still on Zelter, she guides her horse with her knees to keep moving, and looses another arrow and then another.

Ranged: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (18) + 13 = 31 Minus whatever for range
Damage: 1d8 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13

Ranged: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (6) + 13 = 19 Minus whatever for range
Damage: 1d8 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

Brigid sits back down in her saddle and relaxes her bow one more time, a bewildered look on her face. But it soon changes to a look of relief.

"Vell met, friend ævintýri. Vhat have you caught?"

Her head snaps up at the sound of the howl and she looks at them urgently. "I must go; danger is still about this night. I vill return soon."

Unless the fae show they need further help, she spurs Zelter to ride quickly to the sound of the howl.

Sting?

"Vhat creature? Get out of there! Show yourself!" Brigid orders, drawing the bowstring back to her ear. Her nerves are raw and she is ready to do violence.

The other obvious sight is that of the bodies...they are both missing.

I've got a question: what bodies are you talking about? We buried Kent and Rangnar back at the canyon.

Brigid stands in her saddle and peers into the bushes while nocking an arrow. "You there!" she shouts, trying to decide how upset she will be if it turns out to be an amorous couple.

Brigid hurriedly throws a saddle on Zelter and is soon riding around the village, checking guard posts.

Brigid swears colorfully in her northern language. Bow out, arrow nocked, she looks around for something to shoot.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14
If the remaining villagers haven't yet begun a bucket brigade, she shouts to the nearest crowd. "Qvickly! Get that fire out!"

If she spots no obvious threats, she starts moving toward the stables to check on the horses.

Ooh, I hate being right sometimes!

Brigid scowls. After a moment of thought, she draws in a sharp breath. "This may be a distraction! Return to your posts!" she yells to the guards. Then to the rest of the crowd, she shouts, "Return to the bonfire! Have all the varriors take up arms!"

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

Is the creature moving? Does it seem alive?

Brigid draws the nocked arrow back to her cheek and aims at the shape in the distance.

If there's any movement from the shape, she'll send an arrow at it.
Ranged, deadly aim: 1d20 + 13 - 2 ⇒ (12) + 13 - 2 = 23
Damage: 1d8 + 6 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 6 + 4 = 12

Koren's player and I live in South Carolina. We're both fine and dry from the floods, but Koren's work is related to the disaster relief efforts. So he's busy. I'll keep prodding him to find some time to post, but I'm not sure when that'll be.

Brigid again takes her bow in hand and nocks an arrow as she races toward the sound of the scream.

Brigid's mouth popped open when the worst she feared not only failed to materialize, but that Svetlana had managed to talk her older brother into staying. She returns her bow to her shoulder then extends her hand in greeting.

"My apologies for drawing on you. I hope you understand if vas in defense of Svetlana." She looks at Paetyr firmly, truly sorry for the who she threatened, but not for the why.

When the Calistrian priestess explains the evening's revel she has a mixed expression, truly not having expected her Issian ways to have been embraced so wholeheartedly.

But then she agrees vigorously about finding additional allies in their future forays into the wilderness. "Indeed. Volves who speak like men, and lay in ambush. It vas arrogant, foolish of us. Ve underestimated this North Vind. Unfortunately, ve have to again try to track it through its lands to confront it. Perhaps you vill be of help, but you must not think of this as just an animal."

Brigid nods once to Damen, then begins looking around at the other recent arrivals in the town. "If he means to take her back, he may have brought others vith him. Stay alert."

Not straying far from where Svetlana speaks with her brother, Brigid starts studying the newest group of pilgrims and settlers who have arrived.

Brigid allows Svetlana her private meeting with her brother, giving her a nod. "I vill be close by," she tells her softly. Then she steps back and watches the two siblings move away from the crowd.

She senses Damen's awkward presence nearby, and she looks at him. "I know little about the Brevic families. Vould he try to take her back against her vishes? Should ve vorry about him?"

Brigid releases the tension on her bowstring slowly and takes the arrow in hand. She returns it to her quiver as she steps back and looks back and forth at Svetlana and her brother. She eyes the crowd and nods that perhaps moving away from what was likely two-thirds or more of Olegtown was for the best. However, she looks at the priestess to see what she thought.

@Svetlana: it's all good here. Nice post, btw.

After the awkward moment with Damen, Brigid had tried to occupy her mind with recalling moments of notable bravery of Kent and Rangnar of which to sing the praises. Kent, she had the most trouble, until she finally decided that as a wizard, he would not likely to have appreciated the types of bravery her people would usually exalt. So she was thinking on a way to make staying in bed and casting spells from his bedroll while others fought an Owlbear sound admirable when Svetlana screamed.

It was like nothing she had heard come from the priestess before. Her bow was out and an arrow nocked while Svetlana sought refuge behind her and Damen.

Brigid pointed her bow at the stranger's feet as she glowered at him. Her emerald-green eyes blazed and her hair, loose and out of its customary braid, hung in brilliant red tresses down her shoulders as she stood between him and Svetlana.