Darkness Rising's page

Thanks. Rigel is definitely guilty of the crime she's charged with - she's a follower of Asmodeus, after all. I just thought it would be more amusing (to Asmodeus, I mean, not to Rigel) if she was charged and convicted of the correct crime, but for the wrong reasons (if you see what I mean). But I can re-write if that's preferred.

Also: I wrote the 'I don't remember what happened' to be vague in case you want to use it as a GM hook for something later on. If you want me to fill in the blanks, I can do that as well :)

I've put in an NPC section to answer your questions about her family.

====================
THREE YEARS AGO
====================

“Do you know why you are here?”

I remain kneeling in the traditional posture: forehead pressed firmly into the expensive carpet, arms stretched out, palms down, in front of me. A thousand possible answers run through my head: good excuses, bad excuses, pleas for mercy; I mentally wave them away. No. If I am to die, I will not go before the Oni having angered them with cowardice.

Besides, my mouth is too dry for anything except a simple answer: “Yes, Nikkura-san.” Damn. My voice is a hollow whisper.

“You have nothing to say for yourself?” He sounds mildly surprised – and amused. “The ashigaru I sent reports that were most vocal about where he could stick the money he was to pay you for throwing the race – and that you cut him with a knife when he wouldn’t leave.”

I say nothing. It is true, after all; denying it would be pointless. Also, stupid.

Almost as stupid as attacking one of Nikkura-san’s errand-boys.

The voice continues. “You race well, they tell me; excellently, in fact. You were a favourite to win. Coming in third would have made you very, very, wealthy.”

This time I raise my head, looking him straight in the eye. “I race to win, Oji-ma.” My prince. “Anything less would anger the Oni.”

He smiles, even white teeth flashing in a youthful grin, and I blink in surprise. He’s younger than I expected. Much younger. Barely older than me. His clothing is sharp, expensive, but modern. “I am not a prince. At least, not yet. You follow the Old Ways, then. Tell me of the Oni.”

I do. I can no more not tell him than I can disobey gravity: his eyes lock with mine, holding me, seeing all there is to see. I tell him of the Oni, the demons that seek to devour each of us, and how they must be fed; that I feed them by throwing myself at death, over and over, that the exhilaration and terror nourishes them, that as long as they are kept fat and happy, they will bless me.

In my nai-nai’s hut, surrounded by the shrines, the icons, the idols, it made perfect sense; here, surrounded by chrome and glass, it sounds like the ravings of an illiterate peasant.

Yet still, I believe.

Eventually I fall silent. The next question comes out of nowhere: “You have been seeking to join the… Fellowship, have you not? For quite some time, I understand. But nobody would accept you, fools that they are.” He waves at me impatiently. “Oh, do get up. I’m not going to execute you. I’m offering to be your sponsor into the Fellowship. I need gifted pilots, after all.”

My jaw drops open. I close it. I open it again. “Nikkura-san, I-”

He interrupts me with another glowing smile. “Please. My allies in the Fellowship call me Nikki. Unless it is a very formal occasion.”

================
ONE YEAR AGO
================

The hoverbike was never meant to go this fast, or make turns that sharp; the grav-motor whines, threatening to burn out. I grin. This is where I belong, where the gap between life and death is indivisibly small, where every lurch and thrill is meat and drink to the lurking Oni… I send them a fleeting thought: Keep me alive, and I’ll keep you fed!

The air around me is split by gunfire: the three SecuriBots chasing me are catching up. I frown with disappointment: only three? Not much of a challenge. I have run this route dozens of times in my head, and up ahead is where I can lose them-

The limo appears out of nowhere, a hundred yards dead ahead, as its stealth field evaporates. A window opens and a gun pokes out. Serious hardware. I don’t recognise it. Behind it, Nikki’s face, sighting down the barrel, winks at me, flashing that trademark smile of his and a single word: “Duck.”

I’m no more than 10 metrons above the ground: if I go into a dive with the grav-motor in this state, I won’t recover in time. I pull up instead, missing the limo by no more than a lick of paint, yawing into a loop-the-loop, watching as Nikki’s gun opens up beneath me, the destructive autofire tearing the SecuriBots apart in seconds.

I’m in the descent from the loop when the grav-motor finally sparks out, turning the machine into dead weight. I let it go and it plummets beneath me as I activate the ’chute, and Nikki reaches out from the limo and grabs me as I tumble past, bundling me inside, and I laugh, out of breath, ribs bruised, but alive, so, so alive…

Nikki allows himself a satisfied nod as the limo drives us to safety. “I have news. Business is good. I’ve acquired another ’ship.” Wait – a Starship?! “The Far Star. She’s a small thing, but she’ll carry the packages I need delivered off-world. It’s dangerous work, but I assume you’ll accept?”

I grin with delight, shrugging off my top before fumbling with my belt. “Help me out of these and I’ll show you how much I accept...”

Such intimacy with one’s superior is dangerous. But that’s part of the fun. Besides, the Oni aren’t the only ones with appetites.

==================
ONE MONTH AGO
==================

My descent in the Far Star is violently resisted: re-entry is a battle between my skill, my ship, and the planet’s gravity and atmosphere. Alarms blare as I fight to stay awake, with the G-forces involved almost knocking me out, sending me spiralling helplessly down to a fiery death.

Almost. And in that almost, the Oni feed.

There’s no emergency: this is just how I prefer to land. I spot the landing pad and make a perfect 3-point touchdown, springing the cockpit canopy open and sliding out with a grin on my face-

-which promptly evaporates at Nikki’s expression. And that of Shotokayo-san, his bumptious little secretary. We have a history, him and me – and not a good one: a few months back he seemed to think he could help himself to anything that belonged to his boss. Including me. I disagreed, strongly. Now Shotokayo looks smug, and Nikki… Nikki looks blank. My stomach lurches with dread. “Wh-what’s wrong?”

Nikki doesn’t answer, he just stares at me, unblinking. Shotokayo’s greasy voice pipes up: “It seems, Dearest Child, that the crates you just delivered were empty when opened. Making Nikkura-san look like he has reneged on an agreement.”

Another time, I’d make him pay for that ‘Dearest Child’ crack. But I let it pass, in my confusion. “That’s not possible.” I state it as flatly as possible, although my brain is whirring. “I loaded those crates myself, and they were sealed. Nobody touched them since.”

Shotokayo-san almost purrs with satisfaction. “I’m so glad you grasp the realities of the situation, Dearest Child. So. To whom did you sell them, and for how long have you been betraying Nikkura-san?”

I look at Nikki, helplessly. I have a code: I don’t take what isn’t mine, and I don’t backstab those who are loyal to me. There’s more, but that’s the important bit right now. His face gives nothing away. I am on my own. Time to think.

“Wait. Wait. Those crates were sealed – they could have been empty when I loaded them! Who sealed them?” I see the spark of something in Shotokayo’s sallow face and I jump to a conclusion. “You! You did – and we both know already that you have difficulty keeping your filthy hands off our boss’s belongings...”

His face creases with fury: “You little b#%*@!” A cruel-hooked knife gleams in his hand. “I’ll cut the truth out of you: you jockeys aren’t so tough outside your machines-”

He looks down in astonishment as the first shot tears into his gut; a second swiftly follows it and he collapses to the ground. The pistol seemed to leap into my hand of its own accord, and now it pivots to point straight at-

“Nikkura-san.” I haven’t called him that for a long time. But it seems appropriate somehow. I try to keep my voice and face steady. Another part of my code is that I don’t shoot people who aren’t armed and able to defend themselves (especially – even? – if they’re my sponsor/sometime bedmate/it’s complicated), but if he sees through my bluff and calls the guards, I’m dead.

He gives that smile of his, and looks straight through me. I can’t fool him, not for a moment. But – to my astonishment – he puts his hands behind his head, and kneels.

I could live a thousand, thousand lifetimes and never understand that man.

The gun falls out of my trembling hand, and he rolls his eyes. “Oh, do pick that up. You’ll need it. Space is not a friendly place for the loner. Now, you’ll have to sell the Far Star obviously, once you get to safety. But I’ve grown rather fond of her and I’d prefer you not to sell her for parts. Or scrap.” He looks at me, and smiles once again. “You need to get moving: I’m sure someone heard those shots and is on their way here. Be safe, Fi-hana.” My flower. “May you keep your Oni happy and fed.”

I will never understand that man. But I take his advice. It’s the best.

==================
THREE DAYS AGO
==================

I didn’t get much for the ship on the black market – it was obviously stolen – and what credits I earned were spent making connections, seeing who wants a pilot. I have no credentials: I can’t exactly admit I spent the last three years driving for the yakuza, the Fellowship.

The Starfinder Society is my last hope, but even they are barely returning my calls. Finally, today, my comm-link pings: there may be an opening. I’m to go to Absalom Station and meet a dwarf named Duravor Kreel.

I have little choice in the matter.

Fianh (pronounced "fee-ONG" with the emphasis on the last syllable; also known as ‘Fi’) is of just below middling height for a Tian, which makes her considerably shorter than most people she encounters. This, together with her features and her long, straight, jet-black hair make her ancestry unmistakable.

Among people she doesn't know, Fianh keeps her daredevil attitude and speech repressed, confining herself to an inner monologue – more of which is expressed on her face than perhaps she realises; although among strangers she tries to play up to the 'inscrutable Tian' stereotype, saying very little while noting everything. Plus, she has learned that being short and outspoken means you get called 'feisty' - a word that makes her want to release the safety catch on her Mitsuyoba heavy pistol.

However reserved Fi has learned to be in her speech, her actions are still those of the irrepressible daredevil. The Oni are ever-hungry, after all.

Nikkura - A man who plays 3-dimensional chess in a galaxy where everyone else seems to be playing checkers, Nikki is now a daimyo in the Fellowship, the youngest to make that title in over ten generations. He let Fi go partly out of sentiment, because she wasn't guilty - but mostly because he never removes a piece from the board unless he's sure it is of no further value.

Shotokayo - Fi was correct in her guess: Shotokayo was indeed responsible. His attempt to frame Fi out of spite backfired badly. He was allowed to live because he was in the pay of a rival daimyo; Nikkura extracted a number of highly advantageous concessions in exchange for letting Shotokayo go, but not before removing both the little fingers of his hands (the traditional Fellowship penalty). Unwilling to return to his boss carrying these marks of shame, Shotokayo has slunk away to the Diaspora, where he has quickly become a lieutenant of one of the more unsavoury Free Captains. He harbours a festering grudge against Fi, blaming her rather than his own actions.

Str 13 (3 points)
Dex 16 (10 points)
Con 14 (5 points)
Int 14 (5 points)
Wis 10 (0 points)
Cha 14 (5 points)

+2 Cha (racial)
-2 Wis (racial)
Lvl 4 stat increases: +1 Dex, +1 Int
Lvl 8 stat increases: +1 Dex, +1 Int

Force 9

Init +13; Senses Lowlight Vision; Perception +12 (Use the Force)

Languages: Basic, Binary, Bocce, Huttese, Ryl

--------------------
DEFENSE
--------------------

Reflex 25 (10 Base + 8 Level + 4 Dex +1 Feat +2 Class) Fort 23 (10 Base +2 Race +8 Level +2 Con +1 Feat) Will 19 (10 Base +8 Level -1 Wis +1 Feat +1 Class)

HP 76 (18+7d6+16) Threshold 23

--------------------
OFFENSE
--------------------

Speed 6 squares

Melee

Dagger +7 (d4+1)

Ranged

Holdout blaster pistol +10 (3d4+4)

Blastech DT-12 heavy blaster pistol +11 (4d6+4), Inaccurate (cannot fire at long range); Hair Trigger; Improved Accuracy Modification

Blastech DLT-20A blaster rifle +11 (3d10+7), Improved Energy Cell, no Stun setting, Improved Damage, Accurate (no penalty for firing at short range)

Micro grenade launcher +11 (varies), Inaccurate (cannot fire at long range), reduced damage (grenades take -2 damage), Capacity: 4 grenades (reload is full-round action)

8 Concussion grenades (8d6-2)
8 Frag grenades (4d6-2)
4 Gas grenades (4d6-2) STUN, attacks Fort Defence, successful attack moves -2 down condition track
4 EMP grenades (4d6-2) ION damage, moves droids etc -5 down condition track if would take to 0 damage

4 Explosive charges (10d6), 1 square Burst Radius

BAB +6 Grapple +12
Combat Options: Point Blank Shot, Rapid Shot, Personalised Modifications,
--------------------
STATISTICS
--------------------

Str 13, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 16, Wis 8, Cha 16

Special

Enslaved background: +2 to Grapple checks, trained in Athletics

Deceptive: Twi’lek may re-roll any Deception check but must abide by the results of the re-roll even if the result is worse.

Talents

Damage Reduction: You can spend a Force point as a standard action to gain Damage Reduction 10 for 1 minute.

Force Perception: You can use a Use the Force check instead of a Perception check to avoid surprise, notice targets, sense deception, or sense influence. You are considered trained in the Perception skill for the purposes of using this talent.

Knack: Once per day, you can re-roll a skill check and take the better result.

Personalized Modifications (SotG p.17): As a standard action, you may tweak the settings, grips, and moving parts of a powered weapon you wield, tailoring it to your needs. For the remainder of the encounter, you gain a +1 equipment bonus on attack rolls and a +2 equipment bonus on damage rolls with that weapon. You can use this talent only on powered weapons (those that require a power cell to operate), including weapons connected to a larger power source, such as vehicle and starship weapons.

Feats

Starting feat - Point Blank Shot: You get a +1 bonus on attack and damage rolls with ranged weapons against opponents within point blank range.

Starting feat - Weapon Proficiency (pistols): You are proficient with that type of weaponry.

Starting feat - Weapon Proficiency: (simple weapons): You are proficient with that type of weaponry.

Lvl 1 feat - Force Sensitivity: You can make Use the Force checks, and Use the Force is considered a class skill for you. Whenever you gain a new talent, you have the option of selecting a Force talent instead.

Bonus Lvl 2 feat - Skill Focus (use computer): You gain a +5 competence bonus with the selected skill.

Lvl 3 feat - Improved Defences: You add +1 to each of your Reflex, Fortitude and Will defences.

Bonus Lvl 4 feat - Skill Focus (mechanics): You gain a +5 competence bonus with the selected skill.

Lvl 5 feat - Weapon Proficiency (rifles): You are proficient with that type of weaponry.

Bonus Lvl 6 feat - Tech specialist (SotG, p.21): You can modify a device, suit of armor, weapon, droid, or vehicle so that it gains a special trait. You may perform only one modification at a time. Unless noted otherwise, you cannot grant more than one benefit to a single device, suit of armor, weapon, droid, or vehicle, and you can't apply the same benefit more than once. Before beginning the modification, you must pay one-tenth the cost of the device, suit of armor, weapon, droid, or vehicle you wish to modify or 1,000 credits, whichever is more. Completing the modification requires 1 day per 1,000 credits of the modification's cost. At the end of this time, make a DC 20 Mechanics check; you can't take 10 or take 20 on this check. If the check succeeds, the modification is completed successfully, and the object gains the desired trait. If the check fails, you lose all credits spent making the modification, and the object doesn't gain the desired trait. However, you may start over from scratch if you wish.

Lvl 7 feat - Weapon Focus (rifles): You gain a +1 bonus on all attack rolls you make with the selected weapon group.

Bonus Lvl 8 feat - Rapid Shot: You may fire 2 shots as a single attack against the target. You take a -2 penalty on your attack roll, but you deal +1 die of damage with a successful attack.

Trained Skills (8: 4 Class, 3 Int, 1 Background)

Athletics 10 (4 Class, 5 Trained 1 Str)
Deception 12 (4 Class, 5 Trained, 3 Cha)
Initiative 13 (4 Class, 5 Trained, 4 Dex)
Mechanics 17 (4 Class, 5 Trained, 3 Int, 5 feat)
Persuasion 12 (4 Class, 5 Trained, 3 Cha)
Stealth 13 (4 Class, 5 Trained, 4 Dex)
Use Computer 20 (4 Class, 5 Trained, 3 Int, 5 Feat, 3 Equipment)
Use the Force 12 (4 Class, 5 Trained, 3 Cha)

Untrained Skills

Acrobatics 8 (4 Class, 4 Dex)
Endurance 6 (4 Class, 2 Con)
Gather Information 7 (4 Class, 3 Cha)
Jump 5 (4 Class, 1 Str)
Knowledge 7 (4 Class, 3 Int)
*Perception 3 (4 Class, -1 Wis) Force Perception Talent applies
Pilot 8 (4 Class, 4 Dex)
Ride 8 (4 Class, 4 Dex)
Survival 3 (4 Class, -1 Wis)
Treat Injury 3 (4 Class, -1 Wis)

--------------------
GEAR
--------------------

Weapons

Knife (25 credits, 1 kg)
Holdout blaster pistol (300 credits, 0.5 kg)
Blastech DT-12 heavy blaster pistol (900 credits, 2 kg) – CWCG p.61
*Hair trigger (1200 credits) – KOTOR p.75
*Modified (1000 credits): Improved Accuracy – SotG p.21
Blastech DLT-20A blaster rifle (1300 credits, 6.7 kg) – CWCG p.61
with Micro grenade launcher (3500 credits, 3 kg) – S&V p.51
*Improved energy cell, no Stun setting (4000 credits) – KOTOR p.75
*Modified (1000 credits): Improved Damage – SotG p.21
8 Concussion grenades (3200 credits, 4 kg) – RECG p.48
8 Frag grenades (1600 credits, 4 kg)
4 Gas grenades (1000 credits, 2 kg) – RECG, p.50
4 EMP grenades (2000 credits, 2 kg) – CWCG, p.61
4 Explosive charges (6000 credits, 2 kg)

Equipment

Hands-free commlink, Encrypted (1500 credits, 0.1 kg) – LECG, p.66
Bracer computer (1300 credits, 0.5 kg) – CWCG p.65
Computer interface visor (1200 credits, 0.5 kg) – KOTOR p.73
*Modified (1000 credits): Mastercraft Device – SotG p.21
Electrobinoculars (1000 credits, 1 kg)
Flight suit (1000 credits, 3 kg)
10 Ration packs (50 credits, 1 kg)
10 Energy cells (100 credits)
5 Power packs (125 credits, 0.5 kg)
Security kit (750 credits, 1 kg)
Utility belt (500 credits, 4 kg)
*3 rations
*Medpack
*Tool kit
*1 Power pack
*1 Energy cell
*Glow rod
*Comlink
*Liquid cable dispenser with grappling hook
Concealed holster (50 credits, 0.2 kg)
*holdout blaster
2 Hip holsters (50 credits, 1 kg)
*heavy blaster pistol
*knife

Money: 14450 credits
Carrying Capacity: 42 kilos
Encumbrance: 38.8 kilos

===================================================

Don’t be pretty – be useful. The Twi’lek slave girl learned this lesson when her best friend was killed just because their owner (a Hutt crime-lord) decided her performance was less amusing than her agonised pleas for mercy. That day, Aviri’savron stopped being a passive witness of her circumstances and turned to active efforts to escape her life on the Outer Rim. Instead of dancing and courting rich clients, she focussed on gaining favour with the other lackeys of her owner: technicians, mechanics, those who kept the machines running and who could, for a few favours, teach her to do the same.

The girl was lucky in finding teachers and learned fast, and was soon able to repair and rebuild almost anything from an R2’s astronav circuitry to a computer terminal to a hyperdrive. Eventually, her owner learned of her new talents and traded her to a notorious Rodian space-pilot by the name of Navikko, who was delighted to find that his new girl could be of many uses on his ship, the Reaver.

Aviri’savron has done her best to forget what passed during her time on board, but the occasional nightmare still surfaces.

Her luck saved her again when Navikko took one risk too many and ventured into the fringes of Republic space. He sought rich pickings but found only his end: the ship he tangled with initiated a boarding action with him. It was carrying a Jedi Knight, a Human called Matesh, who decided that he had the time to rid the Galaxy of one pirate lord and still complete his mission. Seizing the moment, Aviri’savron managed a lucky hack into the Reaver’s weapon systems, disabling them; she was almost beaten to death by an enraged Navikko before the Jedi’s lightsaber cut the Rodian down.

Aviri’savron’s brief time with Matesh changed her greatly, as he explained to her that what she had thought of as ‘luck’ was something called ‘the Force’ at work. Although too old – and frankly uninterested – to begin training as a Padawan, the young woman listened to what Matesh had to teach her, and has since then continued to try to develop her talents. The Jedi Knight dropped her at the nearest civilised world, with some possessions and enough credits to buy passage into the Core Worlds, refusing any offer of payment – in any form – with a warm smile.

Aviri’savron goes by the name of Rissa these days. Humans (and there seem to be a lot of them around in the Republic) have trouble with her longer name; and the new name goes well with her new life, as a loyal - and useful - member of the Republic’s special operations branch. Signing up to help protect and defend something that (through its Jedi) gave her freedom is her way of acknowledging a debt she cannot repay.

Rissa’s deep blue, almost purple, skin makes a striking combination with her wide, green eyes and her dark eyebrows (tattooed on during her time of slavery). Other tattoos and more unsavoury marks of her former owners are hidden by her dusk-grey clothing – now that she’s no longer a slave-girl, she dresses in practical garb which hides the scars of her servitude under layers of grime and oil.

Never without her beloved utility belt (modified to carry her computer gear as well as her tool kit), whenever possible Rissa also wears a heavy blaster on her hip: a perhaps unsubtle way of warning onlookers not to touch, however much they might admire. Those who get close enough to look beyond the obvious will note the deeply-ingrained grease under her fingernails, and may also see the look of nervousness if contact looks likely – Rissa has a pronounced flinch reflex, another legacy of her past.

She is also rarely without her beloved – and heavily customised – Blastech heavy rifle, which is her pride and joy and perpetual engineering project. Like every pet project of every engineer across the whole of space and time, the thing has spent far more hours in various states of disassembly than it ever has in combat; people who point this out to Rissa find that they have dropped to the bottom of her priority list when it comes to servicing their equipment.

Rissa is both skittish, and impulsive, but is bright enough to know that she usually needs to take advice before she acts. She is not hugely conformist (in particular, her habit of sweet-talking inanimate objects that she’s tinkering with can be disturbing to those who haven’t heard it before), and her transfer to the special ops wing of the Republic’s forces was the perfect move for her: enough leeway that her unpredictability is an asset, while having superior officers who will protect her from her worst instincts. Her time in service has honed her talents, so that in addition to her technical skills she is capable of defending herself in a firefight. Any commanding officer of a unit she is attached to has gained a valuable asset for unconventional warfare, whether breaking open locks, slicing through enemy computer systems, or laying down sabotaging explosives.

Wary of her past experiences with humanoids, Rissa generally prefers the company of her beloved computer programs, machines and droids: whatever demands they make of her, she can attend to without revisiting memories best left sealed. One of her few true friendships is with Matesh, the Jedi Knight who rescued her and showed her a larger universe than she could ever have imagined. With her duties and his, they meet infrequently at best, perhaps 2 or 3 times a year. In his company, Rissa feels not only at ease, but safe; she knows that she can endure whatever the Galaxy throws at her, so long as she has that friendship to fall back on.

Don’t be pretty – be useful. The Twi’lek slave girl learned this lesson when her best friend was killed just because their owner (a Hutt crime-lord) decided her performance was less amusing than her agonised pleas for mercy. That day, Aviri’savron stopped being a passive witness of her circumstances and turned to active efforts to escape her life on the Outer Rim. Instead of dancing and courting rich clients, she focussed on gaining favour with the other lackeys of her owner: technicians, mechanics, those who kept the machines running and who could, for a few favours, teach her to do the same.

The girl was lucky in finding teachers and learned fast, and was soon able to repair and rebuild almost anything from an R2’s astronav circuitry to a computer terminal to a hyperdrive. Eventually, her owner learned of her new talents and traded her to a notorious Rodian space-pilot by the name of Navikko, who was delighted to find that his new girl could be of many uses on his ship, the Reaver.

Aviri’savron has done her best to forget what passed during her time on board, but the occasional nightmare still surfaces.

Her luck saved her again when Navikko took one risk too many and ventured into the fringes of Republic space. He sought rich pickings but found only his end: the ship he tangled with initiated a boarding action with him. It was carrying a Jedi Knight, a Human called Matesh, who decided that he had the time to rid the Galaxy of one pirate lord and still complete his mission. Seizing the moment, Aviri’savron managed a lucky hack into the Reaver’s weapon systems, disabling them; she was almost beaten to death by an enraged Navikko before the Jedi’s lightsaber cut the Rodian down.

Aviri’savron’s brief time with Matesh changed her greatly, as he explained to her that what she had thought of as ‘luck’ was something called ‘the Force’ at work. Although too old – and frankly uninterested – to begin training as a Padawan, the young woman listened to what Matesh had to teach her, and has since then continued to try to develop her talents. The Jedi Knight dropped her at the nearest civilised world, with some possessions and enough credits to buy passage into the Core Worlds, refusing any offer of payment – in any form – with a warm smile.

Aviri’savron goes by the name of Rissa these days. Humans (and there seem to be a lot of them around in the Republic) have trouble with her longer name; and the new name goes well with her new life, as a loyal - and useful - member of the Republic’s special operations branch. Signing up to help protect and defend something that (through its Jedi) gave her freedom is her way of acknowledging a debt she cannot repay.

Rissa’s deep blue skin makes a striking combination with her wide, green eyes and her dark eyebrows (tattooed on during her time of slavery). Other tattoos are hidden by her dusk-grey clothing – now that she’s no longer a slave-girl, she dresses in practical garb which hides the marks of her servitude under layers of grime and oil.

Never without her beloved utility belt (modified to carry her computer gear as well as her tool kit), whenever possible Rissa also wears two holsters, one on each hip, carrying heavy blasters: a perhaps unsubtle way of warning onlookers not to touch, however much they might admire. Those who get close enough to look beyond the obvious will note the deeply-ingrained grease under her fingernails, and may also see the look of nervousness if contact looks likely – Rissa has a pronounced flinch reflex, another legacy of her past.

Rissa is both skittish, and impulsive, but is bright enough to know that she usually needs to take advice before she acts. She is not hugely conformist, and her transfer to the special ops wing of the Republic’s forces was the perfect move for her: enough leeway that her unpredictability is an asset, while having superior officers who will protect her from her worst instincts. Her time in service has honed her talents, so that in addition to her technical skills she is capable of defending herself in a firefight. Any commanding officer of a unit Rissa is attached to has gained a valuable asset for unconventional warfare, whether breaking open locks, slicing through enemy computer systems, or laying down sabotaging explosives.

Wary of her past experiences with humanoids, Rissa generally prefers the company of her beloved computer programs, machines and droids: whatever demands they make of her, she can attend to without revisiting memories best left sealed. One of her few true friendships is with Matesh, the Jedi Knight who rescued her and showed her a larger universe than she could ever have imagined. With her duties and his, they meet infrequently at best, perhaps 2 or 3 times a year. In his company, Rissa feels not only at ease, but safe; she knows that she can endure whatever the Galaxy throws at her, so long as she has that friendship to fall back on.

Write 5 background and concept elements that you feel are important to your image of the character. These can be a concept overview, a list of important life events, a physical description, a personality profile...whatever you need to get an image in your mind. 

1. Sh'assaria is neither the oldest nor the youngest of her siblings, but she's most likely the one who makes the greatest effort to keep on good terms with them all. She endeavours to be good company for them, either talking or listening as needed; something that goes beyond the typical drow way of only being nice when she wants something from them.

2. In truth it is a little more complicated than that: being attuned from an early age to the supernatural, Sh'assaria understood something of the ritual their mother used to bind them together and has realised that her siblings are with her for the long haul. It's therefore worth putting the effort in to keep everyone onside.

3. This practical expediency is a key part of Sh'assaria's character: she is willing to do something with no immediate payoff if the long term gain is worth it. This makes her a little less chaotic than most drow - but only a little.

4. Another key part of her character is her insight into the supernatural: something which comes from her observations of the world around her, rather than from books. She was quickly accepted into the priesthood at Vothys, where her ability, her obvious connection to the dark Patron and her natural charm have moved her swiftly up the ladder. If tragedy has befallen those in her way - well, sometimes misfortune doesn't just strike; it has to be aimed; the drow of all people understand that . The Azathyr is no place for those troubled with scruples.

5. Sh'assaria has just recently realised that she has advanced as far as she can: she may have the High Priest's favour, but she doesn't have that of the Baroness (whom she refers to as 'Auntie'). Without that, no further promotions or rewards will come her way. The time has come to either leave Vothys, or - preferably - take it over.

List at least two goals for the character. At least one of these goals should be one that the character has, while another should be one that you, as a player, want to see developed over the course of the game.

Sh'assaria would dearly love to be the one who wields the sacrificial knife that consigns Auntie's soul to the Abyss. If she can take over the High Priest's position too, then so much the better.

In-game, I would like to see how a group of mostly CE drow can cooperate and prosper.

List at least two secrets about your character. One is a secret the character knows, one is a secret that involves her but that she is not actually aware of yet.

Everyone tends to assume that Sh'assaria won the High Priest's favour due to her ability; but it's actually the other way around (at least in part). Her affair with him is over - mostly - but it was useful. As Sh'assaria views it, she obviously had something he wanted; and he had a wealth of knowledge about demons and the Abyss that she needed if she was to get anywhere. For her, it was transactional. The secrecy was necessary because the High Priest is also the consort of the Baroness, who would have everyone involved - including witnesses and relatives - killed if she ever discovered the matter. (Sh'assaria has enough self awareness to realise that taking something of Auntie's was part of the attraction.)

What Sh'assaria does NOT know is that - against his better judgement - the High Priest has become infatuated with her. Whether this means that he would help her betray the Baroness, or whether it simply means that he wants to sacrifice Sh'assaria herself in some dark, secretive, rite, is unclear - possibly even to him.

Describe any NPCs that are tied to the character.

Drovic Noctier - High Priest in Vothys, and consort to the Baroness. Sh'assaria is his protégée - and sometime lover, although nobody else knows this. He has taught her a great deal about the nature of the Abyss and the demons that dwell there; from observing him, Sh'assaria has also learned the value of discretion and biding your time. The lesson of playing the long game may be the most valuable thing she ever learns.

Lady Satha, Baroness of Vothys - Sh'assaria has done her best to curry favour with the Baroness, to no avail. Perhaps Lady Satha has heard that Sh'assaria refers to her as 'Auntie' behind her back, and hasn't appreciated the endearment. Regardless, it's clear that if Sh'assaria is to progress any further, Lady Satha has to go.

Describe three memories, mannerisms, or quirks that your character has. They don't have to be elaborate, but they should provide some context and flavour.

1. Sh'assaria doesn't flaunt her good looks, instead dressing modestly (by drow standards). That said, she dresses well, and frequently laments the fact that Vothys never has the latest fashions. Her dearest ambition is to ransack Auntie's wardrobe - once the Baroness has been safely put out of Sh'assaria's misery, of course.

2. Sh'assaria speaks of their mother in the present tense, as if she is still in contact and watching over them. Whether because of this, or some deeper reason, Sh'assaria will not, under any circumstances, harm her siblings (even by inaction); and she will lie to them only if necessary to protect herself. She does not expect the same courtesy from them; and she most emphatically does not offer it to anyone else.

3. She addresses her superiors with due respect for their titles, but equals and inferiors tend to be addressed as 'darling'. It's a verbal tic; it doesn't mean that they are friends.

The young Vosil did not have a happy time in Brevoy (Miranda's insistence that her son was noble-born brought him endless, unwelcome attention from his peers) and he left many years ago, vowing - in the way of angry adolescents everywhere - never to return. His sharp mind, love of travel and skill at arms quickly brought him to the attention of the Pathfinder Society, where he found a niche as a Lore Warden, that somewhat enigmatic but dedicated band of companion-servitors. Here, Vosil truly shone: his ability to fight without the need to be heavily armed or armoured meant that he was often assigned to sensitive missions where the requirements of diplomacy precluded obvious shows of force.

His happy time within the Society came to a terminally abrupt decline; the precipitous fall from grace began when he was assigned as a bodyguard to Natashya Lodovka, a precociously young mage from his (unwanted and unwilling) homeland of Brevoy - and of the same family as his uncaring, indifferent father. Vosil was determined to dislike her simply because of that, but on meeting her she was so young and so obviously vulnerable that despite himself they formed an almost immediate bond. Soon, Vosil was besotted with his young charge - not romantically, which would have been disastrous enough; but in the manner of an uncle with a favoured niece. Nothing was too much trouble for him to undertake. It is the place of a Lore Warden to be sensible and to protect their wards; even (perhaps especially) from themselves - this, Vosil lamentably failed to do. Their assignments in Taldor became ever more driven by Tashya's agenda rather than the Society's, as the girl dabbled in the great Game of Houses; and Vosil was shamefully complicit. He delivered messages he should have torn up; he escorted Natashya to meetings he should have demanded she not attend; and it was - tragically - Tashya who paid the price.

Vosil had, in his devotion to the girl, overlooked two things: that both the noble Houses of Taldor and the Society play for keeps; and that a Lore Warden needs to be alert (and lucky) all the time - a Lore Warden's enemies, on the other hand, need only be lucky once. Natashya did not survive the ambush that was set for both of them; her pleas for mercy are something that replay themselves in Vosil's nightmares from time to time, as he is held back, forced to watch but unable to prevent the stroke that cut her throat. He, however, survived - if barely.

The pressing need to leave and the unexpressed but deep-felt desire for atonement drove Vosil out, far from the decadant politics of age-old empires seeking to recapture past glories; back, indeed, all the way to Brevoy. Tashya was an Issian, and although Vosil had been forced to abandon the body, he had at least had time to rescue certain keepsakes before running. Consigning these to the bottom of the Lake of Mists and Veils seemed like a way of both consigning her spirit to rest and an attempt to say goodbye. He has done just this within the last week and is unsure of his next move - one possibility is a return to Taldor to seek vengeance; and death. His return path takes him through Brevoy and the surrounding area, known in the local parlance as the Stolen Lands; who knows whether he may encounter something - or someone - there that prompts a change of his life's direction...?

Vosil looks like a typical Varisian, at least on first glance: of medium height and dark hair, although a second glance would show that his curly hair and beard are perhaps a shade lighter than is typical of Varisians, tinged as they are with the auburn that is typically found in Brevoy; and his build a trifle stockier - both of these traits inherited from his - unnamed - Brevic father. His clothes (other than his serviceable travelling cloak) also have the flamboyance associated with Varisian men: Vosil likes to wear (whenever possible) fine-tailored costumes, slightly flamboyant but elegant in both their cut and their shade. Thus, a crimson silk shirt might be offset with a far more modest (although still fine) cream linen jerkin and dark hose; or a plum velvet doublet with a black cravat. And always, always, a hat. His only visible weaponry is a pair of sharp heavy daggers at his belt (with 2 lighter throwing knives in his boots), and what looks like a length of rope coiled at his side. This latter is in fact a whip, a weapon with which Vosil has remarkable facility: he can command a surprising amount of space around him within which he controls who gets to carry weapons, and who is clutching at their hand and looking surprised.

Vosil is currently accompanied by a mule he acquired shortly on his return to Brevoy; he has been sufficiently distracted so as not to have named her yet. They get along fine without it, so far.

In manner, Vosil has been (unsurprisingly) rather subdued of late, his normal flamboyance and exuberance almost extinguished; under better circumstances he is good (and surprisingly intelligent) company for almost anyone, whatever their social station. Vosil has learned to take people as he finds them, in the hope that they will extend him the same courtesy. More recently, he is withdrawn and prone to bouts of melancholy, especially on those occasions where he has slept badly (on account of nightmares).

Vosil's most obvious mannerism is running a finger along his mustache; indicating he is either deep in thought, or about to do something reckless. His other mannerism, once people have come to know him, is a love of find food and fine wines: in addition to being something of a dandy, he is a conoisseur and can distinguish two different Chelish red (or Andoren white) wines without fail, as he can with different elven spirits and dwarven brandies.

Vosil's patron deity is Desna, although he's currently wondering just how his luck can have gone quite so badly wrong.

Male Human Fighter (Lore Warden) 3 TN Medium Humanoid (human)

Age 25; Height 5 ft. 9 in. Weight 150 lbs.

Languages: Common (Taldane), Varisian, Elven, Draconic

Deity Desna

Init +4; Senses Perception +0

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DEFENCE

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AC 18 [Touch 14, Flat-footed14] (+4 Dex, +4 Armour)

hp 33 (d10 +2 Con +1 favoured class)

Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +2

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OFFENCE

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Speed 30 ft.

Melee Whip +8 (d3 nonlethal) - Disarm, Reach (15 ft), Trip

Ranged Dagger +7 (d4)

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STATISTICS

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Str 10, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 14

BAB +3; CMB +9(12); CMD 19

SQ

Bonus Feats: At 1st level, and at every even level thereafter, a fighter gains a bonus feat in addition to those gained from normal advancement (meaning that the fighter gains a feat at every level). These bonus feats must be selected from those listed as combat feats, sometimes also called “fighter bonus feats.”

Upon reaching 4th level, and every four levels thereafter (8th, 12th, and so on), a fighter can choose to learn a new bonus feat in place of a bonus feat he has already learned. In effect, the fighter loses the bonus feat in exchange for the new one. The old feat cannot be one that was used as a prerequisite for another feat, prestige class, or other ability. A fighter can only change one feat at any given level and must choose whether or not to swap the feat at the time he gains a new bonus feat for the level.

Scholastic (Ex): Lore wardens gain 2 additional skill ranks each level. These ranks must be spent on Intelligence-based skills. All Intelligence-based skills are class skills for lore wardens. This ability replaces the lore warden’s proficiency with medium armor, heavy armor, and shields.

Expertise (Ex): At 2nd level, a lore warden gains Combat Expertise as a bonus feat, even if he would not normally qualify for this feat. This ability replaces bravery 1.

Maneuver Mastery (Ex): At 3rd level, a lore warden gains a +2 bonus on all CMB checks and to his CMD. This bonus increases to +4 at 7th level, +6 at 11th level, and +8 at 15th level. This ability replaces armor training 1.

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FEATS

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Combat Expertise (bonus class feat)

Exotic Weapon Proficiency: Whip (lvl 1 feat)

Weapon Finesse (bonus human feat)

Weapon Focus: whip (bonus fighter lvl 1 feat)

Whip Mastery (bonus fighter lvl 2 feat)

Agile Maneuvers (lvl 3 feat)

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TRAITS

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Bastard -One of your parents was a member of one of the great families of Brevoy, perhaps even of the line of Rogarvia itself. Yet you have no substantive proof of your nobility, and you’ve learned that claiming nobility without evidence makes you as good as a liar. While you might own a piece of jewelry, a scrap of once-rich fabric, or an aged confession of love, none of this directly supports your claim. Thus, you’ve lived your life in the shadow of nobility, knowing that you deserve the comforts and esteem of the elite, even though the contempt of fate brings you nothing but their scorn. Whether a recent attempt to prove your heritage has brought down the wrath of a noble family’s henchmen or you merely seek to prove the worth of the blood in your veins, you’ve joined an expedition into the Stolen Lands, hoping to make a name all your own. You take a –1 penalty on all Charisma-based skill checks made when dealing with members of Brevic nobility but gain a +1 trait bonus on Will saves as a result of your stubbornness and individuality. (The penalty aspect of this trait is removed if you ever manage to establish yourself as a true noble.)

Pillager -Growing up in a place where authorities, if there were any, rarely enforced property laws, you learned quickly that you have only what you can hold—but you gain whatever you can take. You gain a +1 trait bonus on combat maneuver checks to perform disarm and steal combat maneuvers.

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SKILLS - 7 pts/lvl

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Appraise 8 (3 skill point, Class skill, 2 Int)

Diplomacy 3 (1 skill point, 2 Cha)

Intimidate 7 (2 skill point, Class skill, 2 Cha)

Knowledge (local)8 (3 skill point, Class skill, 2 Int)

Knowledge (nature) 8 (3 skill point, Class skill, 2 Int)

Knowledge (nobility) 8 (3 skill point, Class skill, 2 Int)

Linguistics 8 (3 skill point, Class skill, 2 Int)

Profession (Lore Warden) 4 (1 skill point, Class skill, 0 Wis)

Survival 2 (2 skill point, Class skill, 0 Wis)

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GEAR
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2 potions Cure Light Wounds (100 gp)

Chain shirt(+4 AC,ACP -2) (100 gp)

2 Whips (2 gp)
2 Kukris (16 gp)
2 Daggers (4 gp)
2 Blade boots (50 gp)
4 flasks Alchemist's fire (80 gp)

Fighter's kit (9 gp)
*Backpack
*Bedroll
*Belt pouch
*Flint and steel
*Iron pot
*Mess kit
*Rope
*Soap
*Torches (10)
*Trail rations (5 days)
*Waterskin

Compass (10 gp)
Fine cologne (20 gp)
Cold weather outfit (8 gp)
Explorer's outfit (free)
Several fabulous hats (25 gp worth)
Jewellery (50 gp worth)
Courtier's outfit plus fashionable accessories (50 gp)
Shaving kit (1.5 gp)
Gear maintenance kit (5 gp)

Pack animal, mule (8 gp)