"Ahhhh... She always comes home." The Captain sighs in his dusty voice as he takes his blade off the wall, dropping his borrowed blade to the ground.
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"Bah, books dustier than my bones will not help us escape this place. Let us be gone. I say we fight our way out. Use the guard as a hostage, it might buy us a few feet of crossbow free escape."
"Of what value are you to us, guardsman? Prove yourself."
The Captain steps up, flanking if possible, and swings with his signature move once again.
The Captain swings at the guard in front of him once more, imbuing his blade with necrotic energy.
Still here, also in another game with the GM and he's been absent there too.
Captain Kruegar stabs at the guard in front of him, his blade darkly glowing.
I am back! I'm sorry about the extended absence but I believe I have sorted what I needed to. I hope that you will have me once again!
I am back! I[m sorry about the extended absence but I believe I have sorted what I needed to. I hope that you will have me once again!
The Captain summons fell power into his fist, placing it onto his chest as it soaks into his withered form, reknitting dusty bone and leathery muscle.
"You are perceptive, shapeshifter."
The Captain ducks and weaves, enjoying the thrill of combat. "Hah! This gets the blood flowing... Or at least it would!!!! HAHAHAHA!" He swings at the guard in front of him once more, his sword still wreathed in dark magics.
The Captain pushes up, willing to follow Igor's instructions for now, and takes a swing at one of the guards, imbuing his blade with necromantic energy.
The Captain raises his sword once more, slicing at the guard next to him.
Richtr has the ability to heal undead so at least that's taken care of
Free level ups for all!
Kruegar ascends the staircase to the wall, readying his weapon for glorious combat once more.
Seeing the door burst open, The Captain hefts his shield and begins his run.
The Captain holds position, satisfied with the plan.
The Captain pauses a moment, channelling dark energy in his fist before holding it against his chest, where it sinks in, infusing his bones with new vigour.
"Agreed, the high ground would be greatly preferable."
The Captain reaches into the pile, pulling out a greatsword as well as one of the longbows and. 2 quivers of arrows. "This is sufficient, for now."
The Captain swings again, spinning to the guard facing Tartarus as Me downs the guard he had just stabbed, revelling in the thrill of combat.
The Captain whirls away from his first target, vaulting the bed to seek an easier one, trapping the poor guard between himself and Mei and thrusting the sword at him in a low, vicious stab.
Seeing the deadly results of his swordplay, Captain Kruegar will exclaim in a loud, harsh, raspy laugh "THIS is what it's all about!"
The Captain once again follows behind, taking in the capabilities of his new companions.
"I agree, mess hall first, then armoury. It is most likely to be the most heavily guarded, and anything to stop us being flanked while assaulting it would be the most prudent manoeuvre." Being dressed in a sergeant's uniform is a personal affront to The Captain, and he tears of the markings indicating it as such.
If there are any more swords and chain shirts Captain Kruegar will grab one. "A contract is a contract, even if this is the loosest one I have had to the best of my recollection. We should cleanse the place. Also they tried to kill us. I dislike that. Also I want my blade back. It has been with me longer than I can remember. That's three reasons, and good enough for me."
The Captain continues to follow behind the group, keeping pace with them.
The Captain follows the others, not complaining about the ease of their current passageway and keeping his opinions to himself.
The Captain shifts into the guardroom, looking down at his bony claws in disgust as he readies them to tear apart the guards. So uncivilized he thinks.
The Captain prepares himself for combat, throwing off the collar when the woman leaves.
"Captain Richter Kruegar, unfortunately without Company presently. I concur with the assessment of the situation. Talingard is an incredibly boorish nation." his raspy voice whispers between the bars to the rest of you.
Krueger sighs. "I'll believe it when I see the next life" he mutters, his raspy dry voice like the wind past an desert graveyard. The only thing he is concerned about is his sword. The Dunblade has been with Richter a long, long time, and he would hate to lose it.
Ahhh my bad, it mustn't like dashes in that field as I could have sworn I'd changed it, apologies. That's definitely fair enough regarding the reductions, will edit now.
Dread Skeleton: +2 Dex, +2 Cha Str 16 = 10pts
Total = 10 + 5 + 0 + 5 - 2 + 7 = 25 pts Does that all seem ok?
Checking in!
The Captain rattles his bony fingers along the bars of his cage, waiting for the inevitable. Time doesn't matter that much when you are a skeleton, but you still get bored.
@Cardinal A. Thorn What more were you looking for in regards to Kruegar's backstory? Just so that I know what to add moving forward, thanks! Also fair warning, I'm, planning on going into Thaumaturge from 3rd level onwards. Thanks for any feedback!
@Cardinal A. Thorn Yes, sorry I was meant to edit that but forgot to. The idea is that he wakes up a variable amount of time later, with varying levels of amnesia - always remembering his living life and his curse but losing chunks if his memory post-curse. Gives plenty of room to ditch him if you want to kill him off, as he just rises weeks later with no memory of the events of the campaign and wanders off on his own, or can come back sooner with his memories if you see fit.
Aipaca's submission here, exams can go hang, this was too fun! Using Spheres currently, and the race is a Human with the Dread Skeleton Template (available here) - if it's too much, feel free to neuter it. Not 100% finished but getting pretty close. Appearance:
A pale parody of the resplendent mercenary captain he once was, Kruegar stalks the land with his pocked and battered armour hanging off his bony frame, wielding his sword, The Dunblade, sharp enough to slice through flesh like butter despite its blunt, nicked appearance. Biography: The depressing tale of Richter Kreugar has been going on for countless years across Golarion. A tragic story of betrayal, greed and revenge, the details and truth behind the stories have long become hazy and unclear even to the one living them. What he does remember is his origins, as a young mercenary captain, proud, talented, and ruthless. He hired out his services freely, uncaring whom he fought for as long as the price was right. Centuries ago in the history of Golarion, Richter was said to have allied with a powerful Necromancer, aiding him in his diabolical campaign against the an ancient empire, terrorizing the populace. The one thing Kruegar remembers well is the day of his doom. The empire's army was suffering horrendous casualties in a war of attrition that they could not hope to win. However, they struggled on regardless and began to wear down the Necromancer, taking the offensive and pushing him deeper into the forest, denying him the time needed to strengthen his undead forces. Seeing the Necromancer faltering, Richter accepted the bribes of an agent of the empire, the calculating young mercenary seeing a chance to make some easy money and be on the winning side. As the titanic battle hung in the balance, Richter played his hand, striking out at the foul Necromancer, who fell beneath his blade. However, with his dying breath the unholy sorcerer gasped a curse that was to be the eternal undoing of the enterprising sell-sword. Before his horrified eyes, Richter's skin began to wither and within moments he collapsed to the ground, a lifeless pile of bones and armor. The day was won for the empire's forces, the tale of Richter's betrayal may well have been forgotten, had his death not been accompanied by a tragic twist. The very next night, Richter rose from the ground. He stared at the world with his hollow eyes, and all he surveyed appeared in shades of gray. In anguish and despair, Richter saw his own skeletal limbs, and the full horror of the Necromancer's incantation began to dawn on him. As a result, Richter stalks the Golarion. Hundreds of years since his death he is still seeking oblivion and peace, yet he is never able to achieve his final rest. Countless times he has been cut down, only to wake the following night to his never-ending, hellish torment, his memory as pocked and scarred as his equipment. Each time he awakes, he is a shadow of his former power, gaining in strength until he is inevitably cut down again. A terrible element of the curse is evoked each time he slays an enemy, for his defeated foes rise to serve him in undeath, slaves to his will. He travels the world; living out a tragic parody of his former mercenary career, fighting wherever he finds battle. His anger and despair momentarily lost in the bloodshed, he continues his doomed existence in the desperate hope that one time when his skeletal body is slain, he will finally know the relief of true death.
Here is Aipaca's submission, a Wizard//Alchemist who is focused on battlefield control, and enhancing her party's effectiveness, who is also able to contribute some precision damage if required. Still need to fiddle around with it a bit, but most of the key points are there. Backstory: Alesandese was a sheltered child. Extremely sheltered. Raised in an estate in Magnimar, her Noble father's estate. Her early life was consumed by study, as much encouraged by her father. She consumed books on every topic of knowledge, but especially the subject of arcane and alchemical magic. The changing of energy into one form from another fascinated her, and her studies led her down the path of the learned, forming theorums and treatises on spells and extracts. She was also fascinated by the intricacies of life, and when her father brought her cadavers of the recently deceased to study - ensuring her that they had died of natural causes - she took to applying her book knowledge to gain practical knowledge as well. Combining her knowledge of all of these fields into the creation of her companion, Montaron the Monkey, on her 19th birthday, is one of the things she has been most proud of in her life. The one thing she could never learn anything about, despite persistance, was her mother. The only information she could get out of her father was that she had been an elf, who had died when Alesandese was a child, and that the ring Alesandese had worn for as long as she could remmeber had belonged to her mother. But what she had died of, and what she was like, remained a mystery to her. Until the fateful day that a servant left a note in her morning meal - 'If you wish to know what happened to your mother, come to the East gate 3 hours after midnight.' Of course she went. She had to. At precisely 3am, she opened the gate to see a tough looking, scarred elf there. He told her the story of an elven woman, abducted from her home. Taken to the city of Magnimar. Held against her will for over a year in the clutches of an evil noble. Sacrificed in a dark ritual while giving birth to her child by that noble. A horrible tale, but one that Alesandese grasped the meaning of immediately. Her father was a monster. The giving, if somewhat distant man who watched as she'd devoured her studies. Who had encouraged and fed her desire for knowledge. Who had had her craft potions and other alchemical items for him, their possible sinister purposes now reeling through her mind. After telling her the tale, the old elf vanished into her father's manor, as she collapsed against the gate, the full weight of this knowledge, more difficult to bear that any she had before had, pressed down on her. She sat there, comatose, for some time. Suddenly, she heard an explosion rip through the manor, and was shaken into cognizance as the manor erupted in arcane energies, before imploding into nothing. It was gone. Everything she had ever known, and the chance to learn more from the scarred elven man. All gone. She fled Magnimar that day, determined to forget about who she was and what had happened that night, and all the nights before in her father's manor house. That night she learned that not all knowledge was welcome. Two years later, Alesandese is a much tougher woman than she was back then, have trained her body to catch up - somewhat - with her mind. Alesandese has made somewhat of a name for herself in the Varisian wilds, helping people who need it and trying to forget her past.
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