Charlize Kudd's page

Charlize Kudd grew up with stone dust in her hair and mortar under her fingernails. Her earliest memories are of following her mother through the noble district long after sunset, carrying a bucket half her size while her mother patched cracks the nobles pretended not to see. Night work wasn’t a rule back then—just the unspoken arrangement that laborers should stay out of sight. Charlize never questioned it. The streets were quieter at night, the air cooler, and her mother always hummed while she worked. It felt like their own small world carved out between the city’s sleeping facades.

The work was hard, and it only got harder as Charlize grew old enough to take on real tasks. Her mother’s hands shook more each year, her cough deepened, and the accidents became more frequent. A fall from a scaffold finally ended it—quick, brutal, and unsurprising to anyone who knew the trade. Charlize was sixteen. There was no inheritance, no savings, no family to fall back on. Just tools, debts, and a reputation her mother had built one repaired archway at a time. Charlize picked up the tools the next night and kept going. There wasn’t any other choice.

She grew into the work the way stone settles into a foundation—slowly, steadily, with a kind of stubborn permanence. The scars came with the job: a chipped brow from a falling brick, a long pale line across her ribs from a shattered lintel, countless scrapes and burns from lime and rough stone. Her body hardened, her shoulders broadened, and her voice took on the clipped, practical tone of someone who didn’t waste breath on anything unnecessary. She wasn’t charming, but she didn’t need to be. People listened when she spoke. They always had.

Other masons started looking to her without her ever asking for it. Maybe it was because she worked harder than anyone else, or because she remembered every trick her mother taught her, or because she never let a foreman cheat a worker out of pay without stepping in. Whatever the reason, she became the one they went to when a noble tried to renegotiate a contract after the work was done, or when the city inspectors demanded bribes, or when someone needed to organize a crew for a dangerous job. She didn’t think of herself as a leader, but the others did. They said she had her mother’s spine.

Life in Kintargo had always been unfair, but it wasn’t until the new curfew that Charlize felt the ground shift beneath her feet. Night work had been her livelihood since childhood. Suddenly, it was illegal. The nobles didn’t care that repairs couldn’t be done during the day without disrupting their routines. The dottari didn’t care that laborers like her would lose half their income. The decree came down, and that was that. Charlize tried to adjust—tried to find daytime work, tried to stretch her coin—but the numbers didn’t add up. Not for her, not for any of the masons.

She didn’t think of herself as political. She didn’t think of herself as brave. But every time she walked past a shuttered workshop or heard another craftsman mutter about leaving the city, something inside her tightened. She’d spent her whole life holding Kintargo’s buildings together, stone by stone. Now the city felt like it was coming apart in her hands, and the people in charge didn’t seem to care if it collapsed on top of them all.

Charlize isn’t a rebel—not yet. She doesn’t know about secret meetings or masked figures or whispered plans. She only knows that she’s tired. Tired of being pushed aside, tired of watching her neighbors struggle, tired of pretending that this is just the way things are. She still walks the noble district at night out of habit, even if she’s not supposed to. She runs her fingers along the cracks in the walls, feeling the strain beneath the surface. Kintargo is under pressure. So is she. And sooner or later, something is going to give.

To Protest the Government Thrune’s takeover of Kintargo is just that—a takeover. Despite the government’s claims that the new lord-mayor will only remain as long as the rebellions of the Glorious Reclamation to the distant southeast continue, you fear that Barzillai Thrune and martial law might be here to stay. The time is right to strike a blow against the oppression and to make the voice of the city heard, for if Kintargo’s citizens simply roll over and accept their new lives, restoring the city to its people will become nearly impossible. You’re planning on attending the Aria Park protest specifically because it’s the largest and most organized protest yet, and if there’s any chance to make your voice heard, it’s now! You gain a +2 bonus on all Bluff and Intimidate checks made during the protest itself.

Charlize stands with the kind of presence that doesn’t ask for attention—it earns it. She’s tall, broad-shouldered, and built like someone who’s spent her life hauling stone rather than swinging swords. Her skin is sun-worn and dust-stained, with the rough texture of someone who’s never had the luxury of soft living. Scars crisscross her arms, neck, and face—not the kind that come from battle, but from years of work: chipped stone, shattered scaffolds, and the slow grind of labor. Her short blond hair is cropped close for practicality, often streaked with lime dust or sweat, and her light blue eyes carry a steady, unflinching gaze that seems to measure everything in terms of weight, pressure, and consequence.

She dresses like she works—heavy gloves, thick boots, and a tool belt that’s seen more years than some apprentices. Her clothes are coarse, patched, and stained with mortar and grit, but always functional. There’s a quiet pride in how she wears them, like every rip and mark is a badge of survival. Her posture is upright but never stiff, and her movements are deliberate, economical, shaped by years of knowing exactly how much force a job requires. She doesn’t carry weapons, but the sledgehammer slung across her back feels more like an extension of her body than a tool. In the noble district, she’s a ghost of the working class—seen only when necessary, remembered only when something breaks.

Charlize doesn’t waste words. Her speech is clipped, practical, and often dry, with a tone that suggests she’s already thought through the problem and expects you to catch up. She’s not rude, but she doesn’t soften things either. If she thinks you’re wrong, she’ll say so. If she thinks you’re wasting her time, she’ll walk away. But when she speaks, people listen—not because she’s loud, but because she’s grounded. There’s a quiet authority in her manner, the kind that comes from years of being the one who fixes things when no one else will. Among other masons, she’s something like a forewoman without a title—workers defer to her, not out of fear or obligation, but because she’s earned their respect one job at a time.

Despite her gruff exterior, Charlize isn’t cruel. She looks out for her own, especially the younger laborers who remind her of herself before the city wore her down. She doesn’t talk about her mother much, but she carries that legacy in how she defends her crew, negotiates contracts, and refuses to let anyone be cheated. She’s slow to trust outsiders, especially nobles and guards, but she’s not blind to kindness when it shows up. What she is, more than anything, is tired—tired of being pushed aside, tired of watching her city rot from the top down, tired of pretending that hard work alone will fix things. She hasn’t broken yet, but the cracks are starting to show. And when Charlize breaks, it won’t be quiet.

The Mason’s Circle isn’t a guild so much as a habit that turned into a tradition. It began with a handful of older masons—Charlize’s mother among them—who would meet after long shifts to share tools, warn each other about dangerous contracts, and quietly pool coin when someone’s luck ran thin. Over the years, those late‑night gatherings settled into something sturdier. New workers were brought in, old ones were looked after, and the Circle became the closest thing Kintargo’s laborers had to a safety net. There are no dues, no officers, no official records—just a shared understanding that no mason stands alone when the work gets rough.

Most nobles don’t even know the Circle exists, and that’s part of its strength. It operates in the alleys behind job sites, in the corners of taverns where dust‑covered boots outnumber polished shoes, and on scaffolds where whispered warnings travel faster than any decree. If a foreman tries to cheat a worker, the Circle hears about it. If a building is unsafe, they make sure no one climbs it until it’s fixed. They don’t pick fights, but they don’t back down either. Their influence is quiet, practical, and rooted in the simple belief that people who break their backs for a living deserve better than being treated like disposable tools.

Charlize didn’t ask to inherit her mother’s place in the Circle, but people started turning to her all the same. She had the steadiness for it—the way she could look at a collapsing arch and know exactly where to brace it, or look at a frightened apprentice and know exactly what to say. Under her watch, the Circle has stayed what it’s always been: a loose, stubborn knot of workers who take care of their own. They’re not rebels, not yet, but they’re paying attention. And in a city where the ground is shifting under everyone’s feet, the Mason’s Circle is one of the few things that still feels solid.

Charlize Kudd
Human (Chelaxian) brawler (hinyasi, snakebite striker) 1/rogue* (Pathfinder Player Companion: Blood of Ancients 11, Pathfinder RPG Advanced Class Guide 23, 88)
CG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +6 (+8 while benefit from concealment or full concealment due to darkness or dim light)
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Defense
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AC 16, touch 12, flat-footed 14 (+4 armor, +2 Dex)
hp 12 (1d10+2)
Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +2
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee sledge +6 (2d6+4) or
. . thick mason gloves +6 (1d6+3) or
. . unarmed strike +4 (1d6+3)
Special Attacks improvised maneuver (), sneak attack +1d6
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Statistics
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Str 17, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 14, Cha 8
Base Atk +1; CMB +4 (+6 grapple); CMD 16 (18 vs. grapple)
Feats Catch Off-guard, Combat Expertise, Deadly Aim, Power Attack, Shikigami Mimicry, Shikigami Style, Unarmed Combatant
Traits natural born leader, surprise weapon
Skills Acrobatics +4, Bluff +3, Craft (stonemasonry) +5, Disable Device +2, Intimidate -1 (+1 while benefit from concealment or full concealment due to darkness or dim light), Perception +6 (+8 while benefit from concealment or full concealment due to darkness or dim light), Profession (mason) +6, Stealth +0 (+2 while benefit from concealment or full concealment due to darkness or dim light), Use Magic Device +0
Languages Common, Infernal
SQ brawler's cunning, dimdweller, finesse weapon attack attribute, humble beginnings, martial training
Other Gear lamellar (leather) armor[UC], sledge[UE], thick mason gloves[APG], backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, flint and steel, hemp rope (50 ft.), sledge, stonemasonry tools, thick mason gloves (worth 1 gp), trail rations (5), waterskin, 44 gp, 4 sp
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Tracked Resources
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Trail rations - 0/5
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Special Abilities
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Brawler's Cunning (Ex) Count as Int 13 for the purpose of combat feat pre-requisites.
Catch Off-Guard Proficient with improvised melee weapons. Unarmed foe is flat-footed against your improvised weapons.
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.
Dimdweller +2 to Intimidate, Perception, and Stealth when in conceal due to darkness.
Finesse Weapon Attack Attribute Finesse weapons use Strength on attack rolls.
Humble Beginnings (Catch Off-Guard) (Ex) A hinyasi gains her choice of Catch Off-Guard or Throw Anything as a bonus feat. She is not proficient with shields.

This alters the brawler’s armor proficiencies.
Improvised Maneuver () As free action perform selected maneuver at -4 CMB after hitting with an improvised weapon.
Martial Training (Ex) Brawler levels count as fighter/monk levels for feat/item pre-reqs and effects.
Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
Shikigami Mimicry (- custom / magic weapon -, Disarm) -2 atk to imp wpn gain blocking, brace, disarm, distracting, nonlethal, performance, or trip until next turn.
Shikigami Style Deal dmg with imp wpn as if 1 sz cat larger. Other feats with this style as prereq +1 sz cat (max 3).
Sneak Attack +1d6 Attacks deal extra dam if flank foe or if foe is flat-footed.
Unarmed Combatant Always considered armed, no attack of opportunity on grapple attempts.

As a hinyasi brawler, Charlize is a melee striker focused in improvised weapons. Her defenses aren't great, but she's adaptable to different situations, and with the shikigami style feats her damage can become very competitive. She's also a snakebite striker, with a VMC in rogue; basically, she will eventually be able to help with things like trapfinding, and her fighting style becomes a bit more roguish with sneak attacks and feints.

Out of combat, besides things like trapfinding, Charlize can help the rebellion with her natural born leader trait - that compensates for her low Charisma - but doesn't contribute much socially, having to rely on her companions for it. Her Bluff will eventually improve to help with feinting, so this may help. She's a Desnan and Kintargo native, so there are still some solid RP opportunities from it.