Dreadful's page

Ah, how cruel daydreams can be.

Em got little more than a name from her parents, if two letters can be called a name. Childhood has a way of making dull things seem interesting. Adolescence, however, proved a much more vexing challenge. Especially when all the other young and literate people in town sailed off to see the world. Em had a hope once, that one of them would come back and whisk her away on an adventure.

Ah, how cruel hopes can be.

It’s not that they haven’t come back. Many have, once or thrice, bearing books or other precious treasures. But Em had always been most keen on the whisking part, the whisking part really had been pretty key to the entire affair. Em was about ready to whisk herself when her younger brother Cal was pretty badly crippled. Log rolling down the mountainside. Em looked into his future, crippled in Salt Spire, with aging parents, and without a cunning and beautiful sister to look up to. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him.

Ah, how cruel love can be.

The most interesting thing in town has always been the door (apart from Em, that goes without saying). Em’s been with others who tried to open it, has listened to every story anyone will tell about it. Though hauling stones and other such work isn’t very thrilling...it wouldn’t be the first time she’s had to get her hands dirty. A year is a long time, but perhaps in that year the GMC officials will figure out that her talents are wasted on such things and assign her to something more interesting once the way inside is cleared. One can hope.

Speed 30 ft
Reach 5ft

Attacks: with Wit

STR 10 / DEX 12 / CON 12 / INT 13 / WIS 8 / CHA 16
Feats: Improved Initiative, Something
Traits: Scholar of Salt Spire, Something, Something
Drawback: Vainglory
Skills:
Perception: 1 rank, +3 class, -1 Wis, (+3)
Knowledge (Local): 1 rank, +1 Int, +1 trait (+3)
Handle Animal: 1 rank, +3 class, +3 Cha, (+7)
Profession (Tanner): 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Wis, (+3)

Background Skills
Lore (Dwarven): 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +1 trait (+6)
Linguistics: 1 rank, +1 Int, +1 trait (+3)
Craft (Clothing): 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)

Worldly Possessions: Some books, a little food, a pretty dress

”Change your life today.”

Em decides to take care of herself today by choosing to believe these words. She’s wearing her best (only) dress, and has thus far managed to avoid grime, offal, and other unmentionables. ”Nice shirt, love the frills” she says, exactly matching the half elf’s monotone.

1. State your name, race, and age for company records.
Em Salt, Human, 20.
2. Are you able-bodied and capable of lifting, hauling, and moving without assistance?
For not the first time, Em wished she had thick, handsome arms like Brosker. She hesitated, twirling the quill. Yes
3. Do you have any special skills that might be useful in the mines?
I can tend to & lead a horse that could convey a cartful of many stones, bearing such weight as might make a man expire, were he to have it fixed upon his back, be it ever so muscular & well developed from ferrying fish, ale, ore, &c. Horse was a bit of an exaggeration, but Em liked to think the noble creatures were not so different from goats. I am most intimately familiar with all manner of local erudition pertaining to the mine, & can make very fair deciphering of ancient dwarven runes. If they wanted exact honesty, they should offer less pay. But Em wasn’t about to explain that to them.
4. Do you have any past experience working in mines or in similar situations? Please elaborate if so.
I have seldom cultivated skills of hauling, pulling, tugging, loading, &c, however I expect that upon setting my mind to the nature of such things, I will very quickly grasp their central principles. Em wondered how complicated mining could really be. It seemed rather dull.
5. Do you have any phobias of darkness, enclosed spaces, insects, or other possible hazards of underground labor? Please elaborate if so.
Fear is an illusion
6. Can you read, write, and do basic sums?
You can plainly see, from the base & mean form of my letters, Em elegantly crossed the ts in letters, adding an extra flourish for emphasis, that I have half a measure of such elevated & queenly arts, such elevated, distinguished, virtuous & queenly arts
7. Are you under four feet of height?
No
8. Do you have any crisis experience, such as medical or combat experience?
I have been present at several childbirths, Em paused, frowning, Human & Goat.
9. What is your current trade?
Em’s mind floated on clouds puffed and dazzling above a sparkling ocean. Tanner. She admired the weaving on her sleeves for a moment. The fabric really was nice, too nice for Salt Spire. Was it fraying a bit?
10. Help us get to know you better to decide where you fit in the GMC family! Please answer the following questions.
My friends and family say I am (SELECT TWO):
SMART --- STRONG --- CARING --- RESOURCEFUL --- HARD-WORKING --- LOYAL --- FUNNY --- A LEADER --- HELPFUL --- CAREFUL --- OBSERVANT
My biggest flaw is that I am (SELECT ONE):
IMPULSIVE --- DISOBEDIENT --- LAZY --- SELFISH --- CARELESS --- ARROGANT --- SLOVENLY --- DISTRACTIBLE --- STUBBORN --- CLUMSY --- A PYROMANIAC
Far from my biggest flaw, Em thought quietly
11. If money were no object, I would spend my life... Writing Making elegant dresses
12. In my free time, I like to... Em considered the things she wished she could do. Sing, dance, draw, paint ride horses and go to grand balls, visit poor people and bring them gifts. Through a force of will, she lowered her quill until it touched the page. Try not to starve to death
13. I can’t stand it when people... Starve to death Em thought about crossing it out, but alas, it was true. She did consider herself to be something of a bleeding heart.

Em surveyed her work once, thought about changing her answers, and then decided that they were practically perfect in every way. She placed it back on the table in front of the half elf. ”Love the glasses, too,” she says, voice still matching his tone with uncanny precision.

Note that since Em’s reading/writing experience comes mostly from books (which she has spent a lot of time looking at), her written voice is much less naturalistic than her spoken one

”Hey girl,” Greven called, stepping out from their hiding spot, ”where are your parents?” Dreven and Dalk moved forward, flanking her.
”Both gone from this world...so long ago now. But I’m hoping to reunite with a long lost relative, somewhere out beyond the city.” She held up her gigantic weapon proudly, ”I’m bringing this for him.”
She was older than Greven had thought, and breathtakingly beautiful. The way she held that bladed shaft made his hackles rise. ”That pack looks awful heavy.” Dalk shuffled forward with an outstretched hand, subtle as a brick and drunk. ”Need someone to carry it for you?” Dreven’s heart froze. The girl’s eyes were different colors.
”Oh this?” she shrugged the bag off. ”Trust me, I’ve carried heavier burdens.” She offered her polearm to Dreven, hilt first, then bent to pick up the bag. Dreven’s eyes had been fixed warily on the wicked hook at the end of her weapon, and now that he held it in his hands, he grinned triumphantly. The girl’s silks shifted as she moved, revealing serpentine tattoos that ran up her forearms and down the base of her neck. Everything was horribly wrong. She held the bag out to Dalk with one hand, and he grasped it eagerly. When she let go, the bag dropped heavily to the ground, taking Dalk with it. He stumbled back to his feet. Drunk, he held out his hands, examining them for sudden and unexpected malfunction. Greven wanted to call out, wanted to warn his brother, but there was a lump of dread in his bowels, heavy as a stone, and the cry froze beside his shriveled heart. He fumbled at his belt, reaching to draw his crossbow and dropping it, stumbling backward, tasting bile.

Things happened very quickly.

Dreven swung at the girl’s head, cursing when he missed. She stepped towards him, and oh good gods why were her tattoos glowing purple and when did her hands become claws and was that Dreven’s spleen? Greven ran. There was a flash of red light, and he heard the whooshing sound of flame followed by Dalk’s screaming. At least the gnarled old dwarf had died the same way he lived: drunk. Greven tripped, hands scraping on hard ground, and dared a glance backwards. She was gaining on him, so fast. He stumbled to his feet, drawing his sword and turning to face her.

”No need for that,” the girl said. She smiled impossibly widely, licking Dreven’s blood off two rows of fangs. Her ruby tongue was forked.
”Please spare me. In the name of the Dawnflower, I’m innocent! See, I yield to you.” Greven dropped his sword, kneeling. The girl kept walking forward, dragging her oversized weapon behind her with one hand. Dalk’s dagger was sticking out of her chest, though she seemed indifferent to it.
”Ah, if only redemption were that easy. But what is innocence, if not a matter of perspective?” She raised her polearm high above her head, eldritch powers making her body ripple and flex with unearthly strength. ”You were about to rob an innocent girl. Maybe do worse.”
”You don’t look like an innocent girl to me!” Greven countered, crawling backwards. The scent of brimstone was overpowering.
”No, I don’t suppose so. You’ll have to take my word for one thing, then: I don’t normally relish killing your kind as much as I’m about to.”

Soon after this move, Lillith’s father was killed by cultists who forced her to take part in a ghastly ritual. Her skin inscribed with undulating tattoos invoking demonic forces, Lillith’s soul was to be remanded to the Abyss. But the cultists never reckoned for the power of tainted blood, blood so foul that it smoked where it spilled on the stone altar. Whatever their intentions had been, in the end, Lillith absorbed the ritual’s power and escaped, her soul intact and her otherworldly corruption...revealed. As she gazed into a mirror, examining her new form, Lillith found that she liked what she saw. It’s impossible to describe how much more awake, how much more alive she feels.

Orphaned, Lillith was taken in by her doting uncle and his adopted child Breven. Undaunted by her fell aspect, the knight in shining armor routine suited them well enough, and their house beat an orphanage or the streets. Their pathetic faith in Iomedae was as exhausting as their constant moralizing about good and evil. Still, there was something annoyingly satisfying about fitting in, which Lillith did when she had the chance. And all forms of love for those who could not protect themselves had an enticing decadence to them.

Ever since the ritual, Lillith had heard a slow, steady pulse. At first, she thought it was her heartbeat, made louder by the awakening of her corrupted lineage. But now, she knows it is him. Still walking the unhappy world, the one who spread his filth into her bloodline, generations ago, his own demonic heart pumping inside a monstrous chest. The echoes of that sound reverberate maddeningly inside Lillith's cursed ears. And if he was indeed Lillith’s sire of old, then he must have a twisted form of power over her.

Should that begetter of evil live on, Lillith fears that she might be called further down a dark and terrible path. Though Lilllith’s humanity is in tatters, she treasures the precious shreds she has left all the more. There is only one way to ensure, in some distant future when Lillith’s power has waxed terribly, that what remains of her humanity can never be taken from her, that her evil power may not be used for heedless destruction. She must find the fiend, and kill him.

HP 28 (3d10+3+3)
AC 13 (+1 Dex, +1 Armor, +1 Natural) FF 13 Touch 11 {will typically cast Mage Armor}
Fort +5 Ref 3 Will +2 {-2 Power-Hungry}
Resist Fire 5

Speed 40 ft
Reach 10ft/5ft

Relevant attacks
Power attack Mwk Cold Iron Horsechopper +5 (1d10+6) x3 and Bite -1 (1d6+2) (different amounts of reach)
Power attack and raging Mwk Cold Iron Horsechopper +7 (1d10+9) x3 and Bite +1 (1d6+3) (different amounts of reach)
Power attack and raging 2 Claws +6 (1d6+6) and Bite +6 (1d6+6)
Ray of Frost +4 ranged touch (1d3+2) cold 30ft range
Burning Hands 15ft cone 4d4+4 (avg 14) fire, DC 17 ref for half

Sorcerer Spells Known (CL 3, Concentration +8)
0th - Mending, Prestidigitation, Detect Magic, Ray of Frost, Ghost Sound
1st 6/day - Mage Armor, Burning Hands (DC 17), Protection from Evil, Cause Fear (DC 16) (Bloodline Bonus)
SLA (Mage’s Tattoo)
Dancing Lights 3/day

Controlled Bloodrage Rounds 9/day

STR 15 (13+2) / DEX 12 / CON 12 / INT 13 (15-2) / WIS 7 / CHA 18 (16+2)
BaB +3 CMB +5 CMD +6
Feats: Eschew Materials (Sorcerer Bonus), Spell Focus (Evocation), Mage’s Tattoo
Traits: Stolen Fury (+2 CMB vs Demons), Motherless (+2 Bluff/Disguise for seeming weak/injured/etc in some way)
Drawback: Power-Hungry (-2 Will saves vs charm and compulsion that promises wealth/power)
Languages: Common, Abyssal, Infernal, Ignan, Draconic
Racial Traits
Ability Scores: +2 Cha +2 Str -2 Int
Fiendish Sorcery: count Cha as 2 higher for all Sorcerer abilities
Darkvision 60ft
Scaled Skin: +1 Natural Armor, Resist Fire 5
Maw: Bite attack deals 1d6 damage
Skilled (Perception, Disable Device)

Skills 15 ranks total
Perception 3 ranks, +3 class, -2 Wis, +2 Race (+6)
Bluff 3 ranks, +3 class, +4 Cha (+9) {+2 trait}

Disguise 2 ranks, +4 Cha (+6) {+2 trait}
Knowledge (Planes) 2 ranks, +3 class, +1 Int (+6)

Spellcraft 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)
Diplomacy 1 rank, +3 class, +4 cha (+8)
Intimidate 1 rank, +3 class, +4 Cha (+8)
Knowledge (Local) 1 ranks, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)
Knowledge (Arcana) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)

Background Skills
Lore (Minagho) 3 ranks, +3 class, +1 Int (+7)
Linguistics 2 ranks, +3 class, +1 Int (+6)
Appraise 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)

Equipment
Cloak of Resistance +1 1k GP
Liquid Ice 40 GP
Mwk Cold Iron Horsechopper 326 GP
Wand of Shield 15 charges 225 GP
Wrist Sheath, Spring Loaded, 5GP
Silken Ceremonial Armor 30 GP

1374 GP Remaining

Will revisit equipment if selected

Class Features
Controlled Blood Rage - Rage provides +4 morale bonus to physical stats, divided as I choose. No other benefits/penalties, can still use skills/cast spells/act normal
Controlled Bloodrage Rounds 9/day
Restrained Magic - Can give a +2 save bonus to anyone affected by a spell I cast. They then ignore that spell completely on a successful save
Fast Movement
Uncanny Dodge
Eschew Materials

Bloodrager Bloodline - Abyssal
1st level power: Claws - 2 claws while raging, 1d6 damage, full str

Sorcerer Bloodline - Abyssal
Class Skill: Knowledge (Planes)
Bonus Spells: Cause Fear (3rd)
Bloodline Arcana: Summoned creatures get DR/Good 1/2 sorcerer level
1st level power: Blood Havoc - +1 point of damage per die on Bloodline/Spell Focused spells
3rd level power: Blood Intensity - Can raise dice cap on a spell based on charisma/strength mod. Does not stack with intensify. Once per day until level 7

I am going to make aggressive use of options that allow me to trade out features from bloodlines. I don’t need both the 1st level Bloodrager power (Claws) and the 1st level Sorcerer power (Claws). I am assuming that, as a gestalt campaign in an AP intended for mythic characters, it’s going to be ok for me to build an optimized character. However, I also tend to like flavor-driven decisions, and would like the power level of my character to be in line with other PCs and written challenges.

The only thing he loves more than cutting pompous nobles down to size with a few choice words is building up people who can’t see the best in themselves.

There were a few things that Jasper did better than Tommen, romance chief among them. He still remembers Lupine, his first love. She displayed a nascent magical talent. Watching her learn spells that might one day roast a man in his armor was a wonder, one that thrilled Jasper with thoughts of adventure and conjured to his mind visions of mighty heroes and malevolent villains. Encouraging Lupine to go to Magnimar to study wizardry, Jasper resolved himself to be content with the mundane drudgery of the family business. Years passed.

Resolute as he was, in the end, a man cannot deny his desire. Desire to do more, to be more. Jasper went to Magnimar, driving a wagon of strong spirits beside Tommen. Tommen drove that wagon back to Sandpoint alone, wondering all the while why his shadow was so suddenly empty. Jasper rediscovered his interest in theatre, rekindling something inside him that had been cold as ash. To his everlasting joy, he found that pure artistic expression brought magic to his fingertips.

Sophistication, elegance, confidence. These were the traits Jasper sought in moving to Korvosa. He gathered them all, and more. There was a time, when he was younger, when Jasper had showed Tommen how to dance with a rapier. His older brother had wondered at the place for such a weapon on a battlefield, against armored knights and blocks of infantry holding polearms. Jasper had the swept hilt of his rapier gilded with silver flowers, so that it matched his well decorated form at more than one grand ball. But Jasper found that pageantry, grand and ostentatious as it might be, left him a hollow taste like strong spirits on a drunken man’s tongue. Though he continued performing in Korvosa’s theatres, he grew less inspired with each passing season. Jasper wanted to write plays rather than act in them, and he found he had nothing to write.

Kaer Maga seethed with adventure. A man, dressed in the height of contemporary fashion, climbed to it’s highest structure and gazed north across the Cinderlands. He was quickly trapped there, embroiled in adventure that pulled at his mortal soul the way the ocean can pull a man under. The man found that he had much to write about, as his eyes were clouded by sorrows and hardship. And there was a woman, always a woman, who caught his eye though she was betrothed to a Shoanti man. The Shoanti man met him outside the walls of Kaer Maga, and there found death.

Jasper was captured by the Lyrune-Quah and marched steadily north. His desire for adventure much diminished, Jasper found his desire for life burned more ardently than ever. Fortunately, he was saved from an unhappy end by a curious half-orc girl. Cloaked in a dour determination darker than her black armor, her baleful eyes bespoke a life as hard and merciless as the broken land on which they walked. Jasper followed her South across the Cinderlands, giving a hope that was as foreign to her as fog over a seaside village. When her quest for revenge was complete, the girl stood locked in a grim embrace of death, meeting the gaze of the orc who had killed her mother. Jasper’s heart was moved by his new companion’s untimely end.

Having drunk deep enough from the cup of adventure for one lifetime, Jasper avoided Kaer Maga on his journey home. He fears to set foot in that city again, for if he does, he will need to repay a debt to a dangerous half-elf. Rather than going to Korvosa to write plays, as he had once planned, Jasper has decided that it’s time to return to Sandpoint. What he needs now is a peaceful place, away from Unpleasantness.

HP 4d8+4+3 (28)
AC 18 (+3 Dex, +5 Armor)
Fort +3 Ref +8 Will +5 {+4 vs sonic/bardic/language}

Speed 30ft
Reach 5ft

Assuming Flagbearer, Bardic Performance are both active
Mwk Rapier +9 (1d8+2) 18-20
Mwk Light Crossbow +9 (1d8+2) 19-20

Spells Known (CL 4th, Concentration +7)
0th - Read Magic, Detect Magic, Ghost Sound, Dancing Lights, Prestidigitation, Oath of Anonymity
1st - 4/day (DC 14) - Cure Light Wounds, Hideous Laughter, Silent Image, Saving Finale, Vanish
2nd - 2/day (DC 15) - Cure Moderate Wounds, Heroism

Channel Energy 3/day, 2d6, DC 15
Bardic Performance rounds: 13/day

STR 10 / DEX 16 / CON 12 / INT 13 / WIS 10 / CHA 16
BaB +3, CMB +3, CMD 16
Feats: Flagbearer, Improved Initiative (Human Bonus), Extra Channel
Traits: Overwhelming Beauty (+1 DC to mind affecting vs Humans), Extremely Fashionable (+1 to Bluff, Diplomacy, Intimidate when decently clad), Eager Performer (+1 to Perform Act, +1 DC to Hideous Laughter)

Skills 32 ranks total
Perception 4 ranks, +3 class (+7)
Sense Motive 4 ranks, +3 class (+7)
Diplomacy 4 ranks, +3 class, +3 Cha, +1 trait (+11)
Bluff 3 ranks, +3 class, +3 Cha, +1 trait (+10)
Perform (Oratory) 2 ranks, +3 class, +3 Cha, (+8)
Stealth 2 ranks, +3 class, +3 Dex (+8)
Acrobatics 2 ranks, +3 class, +3 Dex (+8)
Intimidate 1 rank, +3 class, +3 Cha, +1 trait (+8)
Disguise 1 rank, +3 class, +3 Cha (+7)
Climb 1 rank, +3 class (+4)
Escape Artist 1 rank, +3 class, +3 Dex (+7)
Spellcraft 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)
Knowledge (Arcana) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 Bard (+7)
Knowledge (Dungeoneering) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 Bard (+7)
Knowledge (Local) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 Bard (+7)
Knowledge (Nature) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 Bard (+7)
Knowledge (Planes) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 Bard (+7)
Knowledge (Religion) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 Bard (+7)

Background Skills 8 ranks
Perform (Act) 4 ranks, +3 class, +3 Cha, +1 trait (+11)
Perform (Dance) 3 ranks, +3 class, +3 Cha, (+9)
Perform (Sing) 1 rank, +3 class, +3 Cha (+7)

+1 Mithral Chain Shirt 2100 GP
Masterwork Rapier 320 GP
Masterwork Light Crossbow 335 GP
Cloak of Resistance +1 1000 GP
Wand of Cure Light Wounds 50/50 750 GP
The Height of Contemporary Fashion 150 GP
Sandpoint Flag 10 GP
Potion of CLW x2 100 GP
Scrolls
Remove Fear x3 75 GP
Share Language 25 GP
Glitterdust 150 GP
Ghostbane Dirge 150 GP
Honeyed Tongue 200 GP
Lesser Restoration x2 300 GP
Will review gear again if selected

Remaining money: 335 GP

Class features:
Mostly standard Bard. I’ll list them if selected

Jasper is entirely intended to be a support character. He has Flabgearer, Inspire Courage, and other Bardly mainstays like Saving Finale and Heroism. I get the sense that the party would actually appreciate this more than a dedicated healer. For example, the party entered the most recent fight at full health, so I don’t think out of combat healing played a role in that combat. In that fight, Jasper would have filled the support role via Remove Fear, buffing attack and damage, and Channeling once multiple party members were down. He does not need to use his spell slots on Divine Favor or Lead Blades (though he thinks Heroism would probably be better for everyone’s health than CMW).

If you’re looking for a character whose first words each morning are “born to heal, baby,” Jasper isn’t that. If you’re looking for someone who’s good enough at healing and overall great at support, you know who to call.

Born in Cheliax, Ambroshtrig’s mother, Trig, was something of a revolutionary. Most of the gnomes regarded Asmodean worship with a mixture of confusion and ambivalence, but Trig considered it an affront. Ambroshtrig watched her try to spark a revolution. Resolving themself to wander the world, Ambroshtrig left before Trig’s attempt at revolt had a chance to heat up. Sometimes, on quiet nights, they wonder what became of their mother.

Ambroshtrig has trekked across the Sodden Lands and baked under the Rahadoumi sky. They developed a pesh habit while moving south across Garund, and watched the little wealth they had managed to accumulate go up in smoke. While it lasted, the pesh made the golden sands sparkle that much more brightly, even for eyes open as wide to the wonders of a beautiful world as Ambroshtrig’s. They stopped taking pesh about as abruptly as they started, enjoying the burning fevers and freezing sweats of withdrawal as much as one can.

In their wanderings, Ambroshtrig spent much time in the Shackles. Their potential to contribute firepower landed them a spot onboard a pirate ship. Unfortunately, though there were still many piratical things Ambroshtrig wanted to experience, they began to worry that if they stayed aboard much longer, the ship would end up going out in a blaze of glory. Ambroshtrig is as afraid of death as a candle is afraid of a match. But they don’t want to be remembered as some flash in a pan. More importantly, the hard and merciless nature of the rest of the pirates often left Ambroshtrig feeling burned out. It was exhausting, watching brutal folk die unhappy deaths. “Ashes to ashes,” the pirates would say solemnly, before consigning another unlucky soul to a watery grave.

Whispers of a dark series of caverns, soaked and sinking, have Ambroshtrig wondering what things they might find beneath the surface. They haven’t often fought creatures that are wholly evil. Amrboshtrig thinks it would be nice, not to have reservations. It would also be a good chance to show others the new spells they’ve been cooking up.

HP 3d6+3+3 (20)
AC 13 (+1 Armor, +1 Dex, +1 Size) {+4 Dodge vs Giants}
Fort +2 Ref +2 Will +2 {+2 vs Death}

Speed 20ft

Spells Known (CL 3)
Oth (DC 15) - 5
1st 6/day (DC 16) - Burning Hands, xxx, xxx, Mage Armor (Bonus)

SLAs
1/day - Prestidigitation, Flare (DC 15), Dancing Lights, Produce Flame

Burning Hands deals 5d4+10 (avg 22.5) DC 17 for half, fire damage, 15ft cone
Produce Flame +3 ranged touch, (1d6+4), fire damage, range 120ft, get 3 attacks (benefits from Bloodline Arcana but not Havoc, does not get any CL increases)

STR 8 (10-2) / DEX 12 / CON 10 (10+2) / INT 13 / WIS 8 / CHA 20 (18+2)
Feats: Spell Focus (Evocation), Spell Specialization
Traits:xxx, xxx
Race traits: Pyromaniac, Defensive Training, Keen Senses, Fey Fortitude, Obsessive, Hatred

Skills 9 ranks total
+2 Racial bonus to Perception, 1 Craft

Background Skills 6 ranks total

Draconic (Red) Bloodline features
Class Skill: Perception
Bloodline Arcana: Whenever I cast a fire spell, it deals +1 damage per die rolled
Blood Havoc: Whenever I cast an evocation spell, it deals +1 damage per die rolled
Blood Intensity: Once per day when I cast a spell that deals damage, I can raise the dice cap by my Cha mod. I can do this a second time per day at 7th level. Functions as Intensify Spell

HP 4d8+4+4 (29)
AC 21 (+1 Dex, +10 Armor, +1 Deflection) FF 20 Touch 12
Fort +8 Ref +8 Will +6

Speed 20ft
Reach 5ft

Mwk Greatsword - assuming Power Attack, Animal Focus (Bull) +8 (2d6+10) 19-20 and Bite +2 (1d4+3)

Spells Known
0th (DC12) - Guidance, Create Water, Mending, Detect Magic, Read Magic, Purify Food and Drink
1st (DC 13) 4/day - Cure Light Wounds, Resist Energy, Residual Tracking, Lead Blades
2nd (DC 14) 2/day - Carry Companion, Stone Call

STR 18 (15+2+1) / DEX 12 / CON 12 / INT 13 / WIS 14 / CHA 11
BaB +3 CMB +7 CMD 18
Feats: Heavy Armor Proficiency, Craft Wondrous Item, Outflank (Hunter Bonus), Pack Flanking (Hunter Bonus)
Traits: Fate’s Favored, Tusked, Survivor
Drawback: Stigmatized
Race Traits: Darkvision 60ft, Sacred Tattoo, Shamanic Enhancement, Orc Blood
Items

Equipment
Ring of Deflection +1: 2000 GP
+1 Full Plate: 1550 GP (partially crafted)
Cloak of Resistance +1: 1000 GP
Mithral Barding Chain Shirt: 734 GP (crafted)
MWK Greatsword: 350 GP
366 GP worth of mundane gear I’ll pick if I’m chosen

Crafted Armor
Mithral Barding Chain Shirt
Craft DC: 20 (standard for mwk items)
Initial Price: (100 (chain shirt) + 1000 (mithral)) * 2 (barding) = 2200
Craft Price: 734
Money Saved: 1466

Masterwork Full Plate
Craft DC: 20 (standard for mwk items)
Initial Price: 1500 (full plate) + 150 (masterwork)
Craft price: 550
Money Saved: 1100

Skills 28 ranks total
Survival, 4 ranks, +3 class, +2 Wis (+9) {+2 tracking}
Perception, 4 ranks, +3 class, +2 Wis (+9)
Spellcraft, 2 ranks, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 racial (+8)
Handle Animal 3 ranks, +3 class, (+6) {+4 Companion}
Bluff, 3 ranks, (+3)
Intimidate, 2 ranks, +3 class, (+5)
Sense Motive, 2 ranks, +1 trait, +3 class, +2 Wis (+9)
Ride, 2 ranks, +3 class, +1 Dex, (+6) ACP -5
Knowledge (Nature), 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)
Knowledge (Dungeoneering), 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, (+5)
Stealth, 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Dex, (+5) ACP -5
Climb, 1 rank, +3 class, +4 Str, (+8) ACP -5
Swim, 1 rank, +3 class, +4 Str, (+8) ACP -5
Heal, 1 rank, +3 class, +2 Wis, (+6)

Background Skills 8 ranks total
Craft (Armor) 4 ranks, +3 Class, +1 Int, +2 MWK tools, (+10)
Artistry (Tattoos) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)
Craft (Leather), 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, (+5)
Craft (Clothing), 2 ranks, +3 class, +1 Int, (+6)

Zaga
Animal companion
Cat (Big)
Senses Low Light Vision, Scent, Perception +6
HP 4d8+4 (22)
AC 21 (+3 Natural, +4 Dex, +4 Armor) FF 17 Touch 14
Fort +5 Ref +8 Will +5
Evasion, Link, Improved Empathic Link, Share Spells

Speed 40ft
Reach 5ft

Assuming Animal Focus (Bull), Power Attack
Bite +7 (1d6+7), 2 Claws +7 (1d4+7)

Rake 1d4

Str 16 (13+2+1) {+4 almost always} Dex 18 Con 13 Int 3 Wis 15 Cha 10
BaB +3 CMB +8 CMD 22
Feats: Iron Will, Favored Animal Focus (Bull), Outflank (Hunter Bonus), Pack Flanking (Hunter Bonus)
Skills 4 ranks total
Perception, 1 rank, +3 class, +2 Wis (+6)
Stealth, 1 ranks, +3 class, +4 Dex (+8)
Acrobatics, 1 rank, +3 class, +4 Dex (+8)
Survival, 1 rank, +2 Wis (+3)

Tricks 8 known
Watch
Menace
Intimidate
Heel
Flank
Down
Attack x2

---------

”Come inside my child, and help me with the hides.” Yenna’s voice had that tone to it, and even though Tanja was playing frogs and ladies, she knew not to argue. Rupert could wait to be transformed back into a prince. Just as she had with Cinder Wolves and Bush Tigers, Yenna had shown Tanja how to stalk goats, how to choose the right ground and wait for the best shot. Tanja had been quiet the whole time, and she had gotten the tongue when they were done. She licked her lips, remembering the way the warm blood filled her mouth with rich flavor. Yenna showed her how to gut the goat, then, how to dress and skin it. Now, she showed Tanja how to stretch a hide, how to scrape and tan it. Hides were the most important part of any creature, she said, even if you were lean and hungry. Hides meant money, and money meant people listening to you. When the hide was scraped and the profits calculated, she asked her daughter, ”any questions?”
”What’s a frog?”
”It’s an animal...like a goat.”
”Are there any frogs here?”
”No, my child. It’s too dry and sandy here. Frogs live in water. They take a long time to grow big and strong, before they walk on the ground.”
”Are there any princes here?”
Yenna sighed and wiped sweat from her brow. Her hands were still stained red with blood. A little blood had dried on one cheek, but she didn’t seem to notice.
”Why do we live here mommy, if there are no frogs AND no princes?”
”Because there are goats,” Yenna said finally. Weakly. She sat down, tired. ”And because other people are too scared of the wyverns to live here, so we can have the goats all to ourselves.”
”I like people. I liked Vaana. She taught me about lots of things. Embroidery. Why don’t you teach me about embroidery, instead of smelly goats?”
”My star and moon, there are things you must understand.” Yenna took her child’s hands in her own. Dull green against bright red. ”When people look at us, they’re afraid. Afraid that someone big will come to hurt them.”
”Who? Who are they afraid of?”
”The same one we both are.” Yenna could see that Tanja understood. She picked up the child and held her close. ”But while I am with you, you don’t need to be afraid of anything. Now come with me, you’ll have the best needlework of anyone I know, from here to the Stolen Bay.”

--------------

The sun rose grim and red over a burned and broken world. A cloud of ash and dust rose with it, growing steadily from the east. There was a sound now too, growing closer. A steady tramp of doom, the kind that could make the sky tremble. Nightmares came under the dust, with dark steel and darker hearts. One of them picked Tanja up by the ankle and shook her. ”Little half breed girl. Camp so neat, you keep it clean by yourself?” His voice was rough as raw iron beaten into cruel shapes. Somewhere else, one of the monsters was going through Yenna’s things, tossing them one by one into the fire. Nothing caught his eye. ”Where’s your mum, little one?”

--------------

Tanja pulled slow and steady against her bonds, never when the nightmares looked at her. When she thought it was safe, she chewed at the thick cords that held her wrists together. Her feet, lashed to a giantbone pulled by an aurochs, were too high above her to reach. She was being dragged alongside other plunder. ”Little half worm will make a good prize for Grishnakh.” Mommy’s tattoos were of the radiant moon, whose rare beauty could be glimpsed now and then when she washed herself beside dancing firelight. The monster that spoke had tattoos of death and blood, screaming faces and splattered guts.
Someone else, with braided hair and spiked armor, spoke to him. ”Long way back to Urglin. Long time ta feed a hungry mouth. I know a few hungry mouths wouldn’t mind feedin tonight. Get the taste of ash outta them. We could stew her good, or roast her slow.”

---------------

Tanja lay in silence, counting the monsters. She lost track after fifteen, though there were many more than that. They had stopped marching for now, and some were dozing. One came to sit beside her. He was smaller than the rest, his features closer to human. ”It troubles me, that we never found your mum. But don’t worry, little one, we’ve still got the return journey. There may yet be time for a family reunion.” He tousled Tanja’s hair gently. ”Though my experience with human parents, they’ll abandon you to the waste when things get tough.” He shrugged, then coughed and keeled over. He was making a sputtering noise. Tanja saw an arrow in his throat, his eyes open wide and white and wheeling in every direction. She reached for a knife at his belt. He tried to stop her, tried to claw at the girl’s face, but his limbs were weak as straw.

The camp was quiet.

Slowly, Tanja crawled away, towards where she thought the arrow had come from. And then she was scooped up by Yenna’s strong arms and pulled close.
”I love you, my sun and stars. You are safe now. I love you. You are safe.”

-------------

”I tell ya, we should cut her feet in half. That way if she runs again, won’t be so hard to catch her.”
”Nah. Grishnakh will like her spirit, and he’ll like her even better if her feet work.” The one with the tattoos spoke again. His voice was shattered stones tumbling down a mountainside.
”Little bit of maiming might make her strong like me. Could be fun, Brega.”
”You had enough fun with her mother to last you a while.” Brega’s voice was hope, ruined and jagged as broken glass.

-------------

Brega and most of the others had crossed the Storval Rise and gone further south. The few who remained made camp atop the plateau. Tanja was in manacles now, resized for a child. Brega had been worried that tight bonds would ruin her hands and feet. He seemed much more concerned about that than the others, who were mainly concerned with horse lords. ”Long as we stay close to the mountains, they’ll never find us. Auroch herds will head East soon, just in time for us to head back North. We can venture a little farther from the mountains on the way back, only have the ankhravs to worry ‘bout.” It was Kruga who spoke, the same one who had killed Yenna. She ran her fingers around her braids often, petting them the way a charmer pets a snake. Kruga still had some of Yenna’s blood stained into her hair. Tanja kept her eyes away from that blood, watching flecks of ash float on the wind into the green wooded land below.

---------------

Grishnakh was a disappointing prince. Half a human, and with half a heart, he warned Tanja. ”Keep on the good side of it, and you’ll be like me one day.” He gazed up at Urglin’s War Tower. Tanja would never be anything like this monster. ”You’re special, just like me.”

---------------

Tanja was kept near Grishnakh most of the time. Often caged, sometimes bound, but never beaten. Not yet. ”You’ll go to the shamans when you’re strong enough, my child.” He often called her his child, his girl. ”I should say that when you go to the shamans, we’ll find out if you are strong enough.” Tanja watched him meet with the orc captains, Brega of the Southern Raiders, Grika One-Eye, Kroog the Demonspawn, and more.
One year, Brega and a ragged band of survivors came limping into the city. Brega carried a lump of white fur. ”Found this in the Ashwood,” he said to Grishnakh, dropping it on the floor at his feet. It hissed, but didn’t try to run. ”Stupid cub,” Brega snarled, ”bite me again and I’ll break another leg.”
Grishnakh put it in a cage with Tanja. It was a lion, with ghostly white fur and ruby eyes. He gave it all the food, so that Tanja had to steal from it to survive. Grishnakh liked watching the girl wrestle the little cat, liked the way it clawed and scarred her. Gave her honor, he said. Tanja didn’t let him see the way she lay next to the cub at night, to keep him warm. The way she healed his hurts with a soft and subtle magic. She would never let him see her be tender.

----------------

The lion went to the arena, and Tanja was given to the shamans. ”Little girl, unspoiled. Good omen, yes!” Cried an old crone. Tanja was beaten and battered, broken and then moulded slowly into something both stronger and weaker than before. What they did to her never matched the way she suffered each time she dreamed, listening to her mother’s death again and again. When she was alone, Tanja found needles and blue ink. She made drawings on her thighs, butterflies and moons, where the shamans wouldn’t see. When they scarred her, they never found that supple skin, marked in the style of her mother’s people

-----------------

”The lion comes with me,” Tanja said firmly, her thick arms crossed. She never argued with Grishnakh.
Grishnakh gazed at her steadily, plotting. He needed his tribute caravan to reach Belkzen unspoiled. He couldn’t leave Urglin.
The lion went with Tanja. She named him Zaga.

When Tanja returned, dusty and bloodstained and victorious, Zaga went back to the arena. People placed bets on which creatures would win. It had been three years since Zaga arrived at Urglin, and he was hardly still a juvenile. Yet he was small, prevented from growing to his full size by some tainted magic. People bet against him often.

”Out in the wild,” Grishnakh explained to a Shoanti traveler who he needed to placate, ”most lions die young. Killed by males who take over the pride, so that their mothers will breed again and bear their sons. In this enlightened establishment, we only make them fight other cubs or juveniles, creatures their own size. The strong survive this, though sometimes the process leaves them...stunted.” Grishnakh grinned at Tanja. ”Not many live as long as this one. Say, girl, do you know if any of the handlers have given it a name? It’s a sad thing, but as predictable as an emberstorm. When the handlers give the animals names, they lose them right after.” Tanja’s face was stone, worn smooth and hard by countless storms. She saw the tattoos on the traveler’s arms, star and bat. She might have called him a traitor, in another life. ”Help my Collectors pass to the Storval Rise, and it’s yours, along with the other items discussed. I hear they gamble among your people, too. You could take a cut from it’s wagers, and be a rich man by next year.”
Zaga went with the Shoanti traveler

----------------

Tanja had what she needed to leave. The stablemaster listened to her now; when she asked him to prepare two horses, he didn’t go to Grishnakh first. When she laid them heavy with food and water, he didn’t question her. She rode out of Urgulin ahead of a storm, lightning leaping over head, grim fury like a mantle wreathed around her.

She wasn’t going straight to Kaer Maga. First, she was going to find Brega and kill Kruga.

----------------

The Shoanti drew close. Tanja didn’t try to outrun them, instead she reigned in and waited. ”I am Tanja, daughter of Yenna Owl-Eyes, of the Lyrune-Quah. I have travelled far in search of a band of orcs, who slew my mother and may kill more of your people.” She rested her sword across one shoulder, skirling eddies of ash blowing through her streaming hair.
”If you give up your weapon and come with us to see Drake-Shooter, our leader, we will let you live.” The woman who spoke was tall, her horse a quick bay with a braided mane.

Tanja knelt inside the tent of Drake-Shooter later that day. She still wore her armor, but carried no weapons now. Her horses were mingled with the herd already. ”I can’t let a wayward half-orc, bearing arms made in the forges of Urglin, roam free on the land. You must come with us north to the meeting with the Shundar-Quah, but in time, we will find our way again to Kaer Maga. When we are there, you may go free.”
”Am I not of a kin to your people?”
”You are not.”
”You will give me command of some of your warriors, and I will lead them to the West. They will see that my story is true. There is a band of raiders, not two days' ride from here. We must find them, before the trail goes cold, and they bring more destruction to your people. I will prove my worth in battle by killing those orcs, for my mother and all those who died before her. Your people will witness my prowess and say my name.”
Drake-Shooter’s eye twitched once. ”There are none of my people in the West. The only folk that dwell there, amid gargoyles and graves, are shamed. Alone. Outcast.” He looked at the child before him, barely grown. ”I will send a rider with your tidings to our leader.” Then he said her birth name, once. ”Tanja.”

Tanja’s horses belonged to the tribe now, but her weapons and armor were kept in a store in Drake Shooter’s tent. They would be returned when she was freed. The camp was small, only a part of the Lyrune-Quah. Lots of elderly and young, not many warriors. They moved slowly. Folk were afraid when they passed by Tanja, shunning her as though she were diseased. She felt now bitterly the tooth of her mother’s words, uttered so long ago. Why did you keep me here?

Two men, both large, stole her food. At first, she let them, but she could not go hungry for long. She fought them, hard fists flying, Tanja losing until she bit off an ear. ”Not as good as a tongue,” she spat, while onlookers backed away in horror. Tanja knelt again before Drake-Shooter, hands bound now, blood splattered down the front of her shirt.
”I thought it would be safe for you to walk disarmed among our people. I see now that you cannot be disarmed, therefore you must be bound with the other prisoner, and sleep in a cage.”

-----------------

Tanja handed a filthy scrap of cloth to the other prisoner. He looked at her doubtfully. ”I know the rags I’m wearing are not the height of contemporary fashion, but I don’t think that’s going to help much.”
”It’s for your mouth.”
”Hmm. Might be helpful for that, actually.”

Jasper was Taldan, from a far away town on the Lost Coast. He had told her of that place, of craggy beaches and deep, rolling fog. Of woodland halls green and cool in summer, little pools and rivulets of cold clear water running out to the sea.
”Are there frogs there, in the pools?” Tanja had asked.
”Beneath verdant leaves and strands of gossamer at the water's edge, or perched on fragrant lilies just beginning to bloom.”

”You’ll want to keep your mouth closed, hard as that might be for you, when the black blizzard comes. ” Their hands were bound well enough to stop spellcasting. Anything that required dexterity was a challenge, so she had to help him fix the cloth in front of his face.
”Might keep my honeyed tongue from drying out.”
”Stay in this broken land long enough, Jasper, and it will regardless.” Peals of thunder rolled around them, reverberating on volcanic rocks that lay black and stark against the dun hills.
”If you think so.”
Tanja studied him carefully. ”Why did they take you prisoner?”
”Murder.”

-----------------

”Who would you prefer to kill you, the Sklar-Quah, or these hill giants?” Tanja watched the growing cloud of dust, felt the earth beneath her shudder. She began to gnaw at her bonds.
”I can’t say I’ve considered it until now.” Jasper’s voice was even, though he was obviously afraid. ”Though I’ve heard that for murder, the Sklar will string a man up and leave him to fry in the sun. Can take days. Longer, if they give him tastes of the water he begs for.”
”Guess you must be relieved to see the giants, then. When you’re looking up at the soles of their feet, you’ll probably be afraid. The feeling will pass quickly.” The camp was in turmoil. A few had already deserted, and the horses that remained were loose. Here and there, people tried to corral them. Most were preparing to make a stand at the far end of camp.
”What do you suppose the giants want? I was hoping to talk my way out of an unhappy ending with the Sklar. Maybe I can do the same with them.”
”The same thing as the orcs.” Tanja’s hands were free. She moved to the cage, chewing at the bars.
”I suppose you’re intimately familiar with that. Tell me. And please, start from the beginning, I’m in no rush.”
Tanja spat out chunks of wood that tasted like grit and ash. ”They want you to love something.”
”Then they’ll think I’m a gift fit for a king. Why in the seven hells would they want that?”
Tanja stepped out of her cage. She looked at Jasper, still stuck in his, and her eyes blazed with a malevolent light. ”So they can kill it cruelly, and watch how it ruins you.”
A passing horse slowed, saddled. Tanja lept onto it and rode off, not looking back

--------------

Tanja rode uphill, fast as she could, until she got a view of the camp. The giants were closing, the pounding of their drums could be heard faintly. A fire was spreading among the tents. Through flecks of ash that spun in the swirling wind, Tanja could see that some of the Lyrune had mounted and were sweeping the area around the camp. ”Must be rounding up the deserters. Disciplined. I need to be the same. Find my things, hope to slip away when battle is joined. Then I can pick up Brega’s trail.” The horse liked the calm, measured sounds of her voice, the way she scratched it’s withers. It was calm now, hers to command.

Tanja tore down the hill at a gallop, moving for Drake-Shooter’s tent. The drums were closer now, rolling booms that could rattle teeth. Inside the tent, Tanja’s greatsword hung in its scabbard. She slung it over one shoulder, opening a chest. Nothing but gold. She grabbed a pouch. Another chest, some frilly clothes dyed bright purple. Bright blue birds embroidered on it, with a matching spell component pouch and a rapier. She left it open, moved to the next chest. Found her armor. Strapped on the breastplate, hands fumbling with the ties. Dropped the helmet on her head, put the rest of the armor in her pack. Her horse was outside, right where she left it. Hideous, inhuman laughter came from the far end of camp, mingled with the screams of the dying. She stood still, listening to the cries. So familiar, no different from the ones she heard in her dreams.

Tanja went back inside the tent, picked up the rapier and the spell component pouch. Rode back to where Jasper was, still stuck in his cage. He hadn’t even managed to get his hands free yet. She dropped the pouch at his feet, cut his bonds, and hacked the cage open with a sweep of her sword.
”Guess they haven't ruined you, then,” he said, as though their conversation was unbroken.
”Not completely.”
”How in Torag’s name do you expect me to fight with just what you’ve brought me? I need my corset at least.”
”Not time to fight, it’s time to run. Can you ride?” Tanja swung up into the saddle, helping him up behind her.
”I know an exceptional poem about a rider. Several.”
”Then hold on tight.”

---------------

Tanja sat in front of Desna’s shrine. It’s chipped, peeling paint was dull blue like shattered dreams.
”I had a glass I looked at like that. You left it for the giants, along with my doublet.”
”A glass?”
”My town was famous for glass that could mesh the light of moon and sun, could catch dragon’s fire between twisted wires of silver and gold. Only thing I had left from the halcyon days of my youth.”
”Stupid to make things out of glass. Pieces of it will chip and shatter over the years, and then you’ll be left with nothing but dust and broken, jagged edges.” Tanja picked up a handful of sand, letting it sift between her fingers.
”All the more impressive, then, that my glass was still in pristine condition. Shiny and clear as though it were still brand new.”
b]”Help me kill the orcs I’m looking for, Jasper, and I’ll buy you a new one.”[/b]

-----------------

”You’re a better armorer than seamstress,” Jasper said, flexing his shoulders inside his new chain shirt.
”For now.”
”Really, it moves with my body like a fish's scales. A lot better than the doublet.”
”You’re going to need that armor soon, when you prove yourself. A person is always either a warrior, or a coward. I can’t wait to find out which one you are.”
They were moving south on foot, getting close to the Storval Rise. Jasper had sold the horse and used most of the rest of their gold to buy supplies. It was far easier for her to travel among the Shoanti, Tanja realized, when she was with a human. She was less than an outlander to these people, a stain on the land no more pleasant to witness than the approach of an emberstorm. And Jasper...had a way with words.
Tanja had originally planned to tell Brega she had orders from Urglin, that he needed to return to the city at once, and that she commanded his raiders now. If he went back to Urglin, she would have followed his trail a day or two later. If he questioned her authority, she would have fought him right then. None of the other orcs would wonder why a change in captain came with the old captain’s death. That plan wouldn’t work anymore. It had been too long since the orcs left Urglin, and she had Jasper with her now. She would need to stalk her prey.

-----------------

”That’s my lion,” Tanja said suddenly, stopping.
”That’s an empty, blasted wasteland,” Jasper said, surveying the Cinderlands. ”Actually, it’s not empty. It’s positively teeming with life, all of which wants to kill us.”
”Zaga and I have a link. He must be close, no more than a mile. Our senses are connected, twin hunters born under the stars, bonded since youth. He gave me these,” Tanja showed him the scars.
”Always wondered why you’re missing half an ear. Explains why you love him.”
”It’s dangerous to love.”
”And yet, here you stand beside me. Plain to see that there’s half a heart in there, at least.”
Tanja didn’t answer. Her eyes had rolled up into her skull. Her head twisted one way and then another, and then she gasped as she came back to herself.
”Time to free Zaga.”

----------------

”Should we...help them?” Jasper and Tanja watched as battle was joined.
”The last time I tried to help the Lyrune-Quah kill Brega and his band of raiders, they put me in a cage next to a scoundrel and a murderer.”
”He sounds dashing.”
”We should get close.” Zaga’s tail was lashing back and forth. ”Whichever side wins, Brega is mine.”

----------------

Tanja stood over Brega’s corpse and sobbed. Below her, the ground heaved and buckled. Above her, racing clouds were torn and rent. Far off, thunder was rumbling. The sounds of battle, close now, twisted in the whistling wind. The cries of the dying were more and more like the ones in Tanja’s dreams. She sank to her knees, gasping, clutching at her throat, screaming and desperate for air.
”I’m sorry, Tanja, I thought you knew.” Jasper was breathing hard, red blood dripping down his face.
”Thought I knew what?” She cried, her voice broken by doleful anguish.
”Killing him would never bring her back.”
”Good point,” Tanja rose, her grief buried beneath a cold, empty fury. There was no life in her eyes. She was all coiled steel and jagged edges, the twisted and merciless warrior she was made to be. ”I better kill Kruga too.”
”Eyes that have seen fire and sword have seen, and horror in the halls of stone, may yet look again on meadows green, and trees and hills they long have known.” Jasper put a hand on Tanja’s shoulder to steady himself. ”Let’s find the road that leads home.”

----------------

When the Lyrune-Quah who survived told stories of that day, they spoke of a bold, handsome outlander who fought with nothing but a slender sword. His powerful voice and clear words had turned the tide of battle, and made him a target for the orcs. When at last he was stricken with mortal wounds, the orcs had dragged his corpse behind the battle line and hacked hatefully at him with cruel swords, so that the ground was mired by his blood. But by then too many of their number had fallen. Soon they broke and fled, a captain with spiked armor and bloody hair leading a few survivors out of bowshot and into the hills. For his heroism, the outlander was given the Shoanti name Steel-Voice, and buried in a high place in the heartlands.
A tall and bloody half orc with a white tiger had walked beside Steel-Voice. Some whisper fearfully of her deeds in the weeks that followed. How she hunted the surviving orcs, each in their turn. Of what fell things she did when she found them, to satisfy her bloodlust, folk tell many tales. They say also that those who met her in that time thought they had witnessed an evil spirit, whose baleful gaze could not be met by mortal eyes. But all agree that before she rose in wrath, the half orc stopped and sat beside Steel-Voice, gazing into his dead and empty eyes. She spoke no words, and would not leave his side until the sun had set and risen again.

Alas, that time could not last. When Tanja was seven, she was captured by orcs, her mother cruelly killed trying to rescue her. Forced to watch her own mother’s murder, Tanja will be haunted by the sound of Yenna’s screaming for the rest of her life. She was brought to the orcish city of Urglin, and there she was kept as a prisoner by the orc-prince Grishnakh.

Grishnakh had a foolish idea that she might one day come to see him as a father, and that by weaning her with many hard lessons she would one day see the world through his own twisted eyes. Tanja spent two thousand nine hundred and ten days under the thumb of Grishnakh, and every minute lives on as a stain in her mind. During this time she formed a bond with a white lion named Zaga. Grishnakh realized the depth of this bond. Always eager to inflict a fresh torment which he thought might make Tanja more merciless, he sent Zaga first into an arena where animals fought, and then to live with the Shoanti. Tanja was given to the shamans, whose cruel tutelage broke and then shaped her into something both more and less than human. Tanja’s magical and her martial prowess developed, until she reached adulthood at the age of fifteen.

Tanja left Urglin with her spirit unbroken, planning to take revenge on the orcs who had killed her mother. Apprehended by the Lyrune-Quah, she soon found that the Shoanti would never give her a fair chance among their people. She quickly became an outright prisoner. It was as a prisoner that she formed a bond with Jasper, a Taldan man born in Sandpoint who had killed a member of the Sklar-Quah in a duel outside Kaer Maga. His golden tongue whispered of a world more full of life than the one Tanja had known. The band that had captured them both were planning to give Jasper to the Shundar-Quah, but while travelling in the lands of the Spire-Clan they were attacked by marauding hill giants.
In the chaos, Tanja escaped. Here she proved to have a little good in her heart; rather than leaving Jasper to die, she saved him. He convinced her to go back to Sandpoint with him, once her quest for revenge was finished. Jasper and Tanja found Zaga, Tanja’s lion, among the Shoanti. Tanja felt there was more to life than a desperate struggle to survive, somewhere greener and cooler than the Cinderlands. But revenge still had to come first. Because of the bond Jasper had formed with the half-orc, because he had little chance of crossing the Cinderlands alone, and because she had saved his life, Jasper agreed to help Tanja find and kill the orcs who had murdered Yenna.

In the end, revenge brought only more disappointment. Tanja found the orcs that had killed her mother, who were met by a band of Lyrune-Quah warriors. Tanja entered the Shoanti camp and killed the captain of the orc band while battle raged nearby. Overwhelmed by the fact that this provided her no restoration, no retribution, and no relief of any kind, Tanja broke down. Jasper pleaded with her to abandon her revenge while the orcs fought with the Shoanti nearby. But Tanja pressed forward, still hoping to find the orc who had been personally responsible for killing Yenna. In doing so, Tanja led Jasper to his death.
Tanja remembers the following weeks as an evil dream. She hunted the last of the orcs who had fled from the Shoanti warriors, until at last she found the one who had killed her mother. The cycle of revenge complete, Tanja fell into a deep despair. In honor of her friend’s memory, she decided to go to Sandpoint. It was what Jasper would have wanted her to do. Still, Tanja wondered every day of the journey whether life was worth living.

Upon arriving in Sandpoint, and learning that the town was beset by evil forces, Tanja felt new life awakening in her. Tanja has never had anything to fight for. The orcs were evil, the Shoanti rejected her, and her mother was murdered. She’s been driven to violence out of a need to survive and a desire for revenge. But now, she can fight for others, and she’s desperate to do so. Sandpoint must be worth preserving, it produced the second person who ever truly saw good in Tanja. It’s a place that could give many people the childhood she never had. And it’s the place Jasper called home. Tanja is wracked with guilt, because she bears some responsibility for Jasper’s death, and if she can save his town, it might bring her a little redemption.

HP 4d8+4+4 (29)
AC 21 (+1 Dex, +10 Armor, +1 Deflection) FF 20 Touch 12
Fort +8 Ref +8 Will +6

Speed 20ft
Reach 5ft

Mwk Greatsword - assuming Power Attack, Animal Focus (Bull) +8 (2d6+10) 19-20 and Bite +2 (1d4+3)

Spells Known
0th (DC12) - Guidance, Create Water, Mending, Detect Magic, Read Magic, Purify Food and Drink
1st (DC 13) 4/day - Cure Light Wounds, Resist Energy, Residual Tracking, Lead Blades
2nd (DC 14) 2/day - Carry Companion, Stone Call

STR 18 (15+2+1) / DEX 12 / CON 12 / INT 13 / WIS 14 / CHA 11
BaB +3 CMB +7 CMD 18
Feats: Heavy Armor Proficiency, Craft Wondrous Item, Outflank (Hunter Bonus), Pack Flanking (Hunter Bonus)
Traits: Fate’s Favored, Tusked, Survivor
Drawback: Stigmatized
Race Traits: Darkvision 60ft, Sacred Tattoo, Shamanic Enhancement, Orc Blood
Items

Equipment
Ring of Deflection +1: 2000 GP
+1 Full Plate: 1550 GP (partially crafted)
Cloak of Resistance +1: 1000 GP
Mithral Barding Chain Shirt: 734 GP (crafted)
MWK Greatsword: 350 GP
366 GP worth of mundane gear I’ll pick if I’m chosen

Crafted Armor
Mithral Barding Chain Shirt
Craft DC: 20 (standard for mwk items)
Initial Price: (100 (chain shirt) + 1000 (mithral)) * 2 (barding) = 2200
Craft Price: 734
Money Saved: 1466

Masterwork Full Plate
Craft DC: 20 (standard for mwk items)
Initial Price: 1500 (full plate) + 150 (masterwork)
Craft price: 550
Money Saved: 1100

Skills 28 ranks total
Survival, 4 ranks, +3 class, +2 Wis (+9) {+2 tracking}
Perception, 4 ranks, +3 class, +2 Wis (+9)
Spellcraft, 2 ranks, +3 class, +1 Int, +2 racial (+8)
Handle Animal 3 ranks, +3 class, (+6) {+4 Companion}
Bluff, 3 ranks, (+3)
Intimidate, 2 ranks, +3 class, (+5)
Sense Motive, 2 ranks, +1 trait, +3 class, +2 Wis (+9)
Ride, 2 ranks, +3 class, +1 Dex, (+6) ACP -5
Knowledge (Nature), 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)
Knowledge (Dungeoneering), 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, (+5)
Stealth, 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Dex, (+5) ACP -5
Climb, 1 rank, +3 class, +4 Str, (+8) ACP -5
Swim, 1 rank, +3 class, +4 Str, (+8) ACP -5
Heal, 1 rank, +3 class, +2 Wis, (+6)

Background Skills 8 ranks total
Craft (Armor) 4 ranks, +3 Class, +1 Int, +2 MWK tools, (+10)
Artistry (Tattoos) 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int (+5)
Craft (Leather), 1 rank, +3 class, +1 Int, (+5)
Craft (Clothing), 2 ranks, +3 class, +1 Int, (+6)

Zaga
Animal companion
Cat (Big)
Senses Low Light Vision, Scent, Perception +6
HP 4d8+4 (22)
AC 21 (+3 Natural, +4 Dex, +4 Armor) FF 17 Touch 14
Fort +5 Ref +8 Will +5
Evasion, Link, Improved Empathic Link, Share Spells

Speed 40ft
Reach 5ft

Assuming Animal Focus (Bull), Power Attack
Bite +7 (1d6+7), 2 Claws +7 (1d4+7)

Rake 1d4

Str 16 (13+2+1) {+4 almost always} Dex 18 Con 13 Int 3 Wis 15 Cha 10
BaB +3 CMB +8 CMD 22
Feats: Iron Will, Favored Animal Focus (Bull), Outflank (Hunter Bonus), Pack Flanking (Hunter Bonus)
Skills 4 ranks total
Perception, 1 rank, +3 class, +2 Wis (+6)
Stealth, 1 ranks, +3 class, +4 Dex (+8)
Acrobatics, 1 rank, +3 class, +4 Dex (+8)
Survival, 1 rank, +2 Wis (+3)

Tricks 8 known
Watch
Menace
Intimidate
Heel
Flank
Down
Attack x2

---------

”Come inside my child, and help me with the hides.” Yenna’s voice had that tone to it, and even though Tanja was playing frogs and ladies, she knew not to argue. Rupert could wait to be transformed back into a prince. Just as she had with Cinder Wolves and Bush Tigers, Yenna had shown Tanja how to stalk goats, how to choose the right ground and wait for the best shot. Tanja had been quiet the whole time, and she had gotten the tongue when they were done. She licked her lips, remembering the way the warm blood filled her mouth with rich flavor. Yenna showed her how to gut the goat, then, how to dress and skin it. Now, she showed Tanja how to stretch a hide, how to scrape and tan it. Hides were the most important part of any creature, she said, even if you were lean and hungry. Hides meant money, and money meant people listening to you. When the hide was scraped and the profits calculated, she asked her daughter, ”any questions?”
”What’s a frog?”
”It’s an animal...like a goat.”
”Are there any frogs here?”
”No, my child. It’s too dry and sandy here. Frogs live in water. They take a long time to grow big and strong, before they walk on the ground.”
”Are there any princes here?”
Yenna sighed and wiped sweat from her brow. Her hands were still stained red with blood. A little blood had dried on one cheek, but she didn’t seem to notice.
”Why do we live here mommy, if there are no frogs AND no princes?”
”Because there are goats,” Yenna said finally. Weakly. She sat down, tired. ”And because other people are too scared of the wyverns to live here, so we can have the goats all to ourselves.”
”I like people. I liked Vaana. She taught me about lots of things. Embroidery. Why don’t you teach me about embroidery, instead of smelly goats?”
”My star and moon, there are things you must understand.” Yenna took her child’s hands in her own. Dull green against bright red. ”When people look at us, they’re afraid. Afraid that someone big will come to hurt them.”
”Who? Who are they afraid of?”
”The same one we both are.” Yenna could see that Tanja understood. She picked up the child and held her close. ”But while I am with you, you don’t need to be afraid of anything. Now come with me, you’ll have the best needlework of anyone I know, from here to the Stolen Bay.”

--------------

The sun rose grim and red over a burned and broken world. A cloud of ash and dust rose with it, growing steadily from the east. There was a sound now too, growing closer. A steady tramp of doom, the kind that could make the sky tremble. Nightmares came under the dust, with dark steel and darker hearts. One of them picked Tanja up by the ankle and shook her. ”Little half breed girl. Camp so neat, you keep it clean by yourself?” His voice was rough as raw iron beaten into cruel shapes. Somewhere else, one of the monsters was going through Yenna’s things, tossing them one by one into the fire. Nothing caught his eye. ”Where’s your mum, little one?”

--------------

Tanja pulled slow and steady against her bonds, never when the nightmares looked at her. When she thought it was safe, she chewed at the thick cords that held her wrists together. Her feet, lashed to a giantbone pulled by an aurochs, were too high above her to reach. She was being dragged alongside other plunder. ”Little half worm will make a good prize for Grishnakh.” Mommy’s tattoos were of the radiant moon, whose rare beauty could be glimpsed now and then when she washed herself beside dancing firelight. The monster that spoke had tattoos of death and blood, screaming faces and splattered guts.
Someone else, with braided hair and spiked armor, spoke to him. ”Long way back to Urglin. Long time ta feed a hungry mouth. I know a few hungry mouths wouldn’t mind feedin tonight. Get the taste of ash outta them. We could stew her good, or roast her slow.”

---------------

Tanja lay in silence, counting the monsters. She lost track after fifteen, though there were many more than that. They had stopped marching for now, and some were dozing. One came to sit beside her. He was smaller than the rest, his features closer to human. ”It troubles me, that we never found your mum. But don’t worry, little one, we’ve still got the return journey. There may yet be time for a family reunion.” He tousled Tanja’s hair gently. ”Though my experience with human parents, they’ll abandon you to the waste when things get tough.” He shrugged, then coughed and keeled over. He was making a sputtering noise. Tanja saw an arrow in his throat, his eyes open wide and white and wheeling in every direction. She reached for a knife at his belt. He tried to stop her, tried to claw at the girl’s face, but his limbs were weak as straw.

The camp was quiet.

Slowly, Tanja crawled away, towards where she thought the arrow had come from. And then she was scooped up by Yenna’s strong arms and pulled close.
”I love you, my sun and stars. You are safe now. I love you. You are safe.”

-------------

”I tell ya, we should cut her feet in half. That way if she runs again, won’t be so hard to catch her.”
”Nah. Grishnakh will like her spirit, and he’ll like her even better if her feet work.” The one with the tattoos spoke again. His voice was shattered stones tumbling down a mountainside.
”Little bit of maiming might make her strong like me. Could be fun, Brega.”
”You had enough fun with her mother to last you a while.” Brega’s voice was hope, ruined and jagged as broken glass.

-------------

Brega and most of the others had crossed the Storval Rise and gone further south. The few who remained made camp atop the plateau. Tanja was in manacles now, resized for a child. Brega had been worried that tight bonds would ruin her hands and feet. He seemed much more concerned about that than the others, who were mainly concerned with horse lords. ”Long as we stay close to the mountains, they’ll never find us. Auroch herds will head East soon, just in time for us to head back North. We can venture a little farther from the mountains on the way back, only have the ankhravs to worry ‘bout.” It was Kruga who spoke, the same one who had killed Yenna. She ran her fingers around her braids often, petting them the way a charmer pets a snake. Kruga still had some of Yenna’s blood stained into her hair. Tanja kept her eyes away from that blood, watching flecks of ash float on the wind into the green wooded land below.

---------------

Grishnakh was a disappointing prince. Half a human, and with half a heart, he warned Tanja. ”Keep on the good side of it, and you’ll be like me one day.” He gazed up at Urglin’s War Tower. Tanja would never be anything like this monster. ”You’re special, just like me.”

---------------

Tanja was kept near Grishnakh most of the time. Often caged, sometimes bound, but never beaten. Not yet. ”You’ll go to the shamans when you’re strong enough, my child.” He often called her his child, his girl. ”I should say that when you go to the shamans, we’ll find out if you are strong enough.” Tanja watched him meet with the orc captains, Brega of the Southern Raiders, Grika One-Eye, Kroog the Demonspawn, and more.
One year, Brega and a ragged band of survivors came limping into the city. Brega carried a lump of white fur. ”Found this in the Ashwood,” he said to Grishnakh, dropping it on the floor at his feet. It hissed, but didn’t try to run. ”Stupid cub,” Brega snarled, ”bite me again and I’ll break another leg.”
Grishnakh put it in a cage with Tanja. It was a lion, with ghostly white fur and ruby eyes. He gave it all the food, so that Tanja had to steal from it to survive. Grishnakh liked watching the girl wrestle the little cat, liked the way it clawed and scarred her. Gave her honor, he said. Tanja didn’t let him see the way she lay next to the cub at night, to keep him warm. The way she healed his hurts with a soft and subtle magic. She would never let him see her be tender.

----------------

The lion went to the arena, and Tanja was given to the shamans. ”Little girl, unspoiled. Good omen, yes!” Cried an old crone. Tanja was beaten and battered, broken and then moulded slowly into something both stronger and weaker than before. What they did to her never matched the way she suffered each time she dreamed, listening to her mother’s death again and again. When she was alone, Tanja found needles and blue ink. She made drawings on her thighs, butterflies and moons, where the shamans wouldn’t see. When they scarred her, they never found that supple skin, marked in the style of her mother’s people

-----------------

”The lion comes with me,” Tanja said firmly, her thick arms crossed. She never argued with Grishnakh.
Grishnakh gazed at her steadily, plotting. He needed his tribute caravan to reach Belkzen unspoiled. He couldn’t leave Urglin.
The lion went with Tanja. She named him Zaga.

When Tanja returned, dusty and bloodstained and victorious, Zaga went back to the arena. People placed bets on which creatures would win. It had been three years since Zaga arrived at Urglin, and he was hardly still a juvenile. Yet he was small, prevented from growing to his full size by some tainted magic. People bet against him often.

”Out in the wild,” Grishnakh explained to a Shoanti traveler who he needed to placate, ”most lions die young. Killed by males who take over the pride, so that their mothers will breed again and bear their sons. In this enlightened establishment, we only make them fight other cubs or juveniles, creatures their own size. The strong survive this, though sometimes the process leaves them...stunted.” Grishnakh grinned at Tanja. ”Not many live as long as this one. Say, girl, do you know if any of the handlers have given it a name? It’s a sad thing, but as predictable as an emberstorm. When the handlers give the animals names, they lose them right after.” Tanja’s face was stone, worn smooth and hard by countless storms. She saw the tattoos on the traveler’s arms, star and bat. She might have called him a traitor, in another life. ”Help my Collectors pass to the Storval Rise, and it’s yours, along with the other items discussed. I hear they gamble among your people, too. You could take a cut from it’s wagers, and be a rich man by next year.”
Zaga went with the Shoanti traveler

----------------

Tanja had what she needed to leave. The stablemaster listened to her now; when she asked him to prepare two horses, he didn’t go to Grishnakh first. When she laid them heavy with food and water, he didn’t question her. She rode out of Urgulin ahead of a storm, lightning leaping over head, grim fury like a mantle wreathed around her.

She wasn’t going straight to Kaer Maga. First, she was going to find Brega and kill Kruga.

----------------

The Shoanti drew close. Tanja didn’t try to outrun them, instead she reigned in and waited. ”I am Tanja, daughter of Yenna Owl-Eyes, of the Lyrune-Quah. I have travelled far in search of a band of orcs, who slew my mother and may kill more of your people.” She rested her sword across one shoulder, skirling eddies of ash blowing through her streaming hair.
”If you give up your weapon and come with us to see Drake-Shooter, our leader, we will let you live.” The woman who spoke was tall, her horse a quick bay with a braided mane.

Tanja knelt inside the tent of Drake-Shooter later that day. She still wore her armor, but carried no weapons now. Her horses were mingled with the herd already. ”I can’t let a wayward half-orc, bearing arms made in the forges of Urglin, roam free on the land. You must come with us north to the meeting with the Shundar-Quah, but in time, we will find our way again to Kaer Maga. When we are there, you may go free.”
”Am I not of a kin to your people?”
”You are not.”
”You will give me command of some of your warriors, and I will lead them to the West. They will see that my story is true. There is a band of raiders, not two days' ride from here. We must find them, before the trail goes cold, and they bring more destruction to your people. I will prove my worth in battle by killing those orcs, for my mother and all those who died before her. Your people will witness my prowess and say my name.”
Drake-Shooter’s eye twitched once. ”There are none of my people in the West. The only folk that dwell there, amid gargoyles and graves, are shamed. Alone. Outcast.” He looked at the child before him, barely grown. ”I will send a rider with your tidings to our leader.” Then he said her birth name, once. ”Tanja.”

Tanja’s horses belonged to the tribe now, but her weapons and armor were kept in a store in Drake Shooter’s tent. They would be returned when she was freed. The camp was small, only a part of the Lyrune-Quah. Lots of elderly and young, not many warriors. They moved slowly. Folk were afraid when they passed by Tanja, shunning her as though she were diseased. She felt now bitterly the tooth of her mother’s words, uttered so long ago. Why did you keep me here?

Two men, both large, stole her food. At first, she let them, but she could not go hungry for long. She fought them, hard fists flying, Tanja losing until she bit off an ear. ”Not as good as a tongue,” she spat, while onlookers backed away in horror. Tanja knelt again before Drake-Shooter, hands bound now, blood splattered down the front of her shirt.
”I thought it would be safe for you to walk disarmed among our people. I see now that you cannot be disarmed, therefore you must be bound with the other prisoner, and sleep in a cage.”

-----------------

Tanja handed a filthy scrap of cloth to the other prisoner. He looked at her doubtfully. ”I know the rags I’m wearing are not the height of contemporary fashion, but I don’t think that’s going to help much.”
”It’s for your mouth.”
”Hmm. Might be helpful for that, actually.”

Jasper was Taldan, from a far away town on the Lost Coast. He had told her of that place, of craggy beaches and deep, rolling fog. Of woodland halls green and cool in summer, little pools and rivulets of cold clear water running out to the sea.
”Are there frogs there, in the pools?” Tanja had asked.
”Beneath verdant leaves and strands of gossamer at the water's edge, or perched on fragrant lilies just beginning to bloom.”

”You’ll want to keep your mouth closed, hard as that might be for you, when the black blizzard comes. ” Their hands were bound well enough to stop spellcasting. Anything that required dexterity was a challenge, so she had to help him fix the cloth in front of his face.
”Might keep my honeyed tongue from drying out.”
”Stay in this broken land long enough, Jasper, and it will regardless.” Peals of thunder rolled around them, reverberating on volcanic rocks that lay black and stark against the dun hills.
”If you think so.”
Tanja studied him carefully. ”Why did they take you prisoner?”
”Murder.”

-----------------

”Who would you prefer to kill you, the Sklar-Quah, or these hill giants?” Tanja watched the growing cloud of dust, felt the earth beneath her shudder. She began to gnaw at her bonds.
”I can’t say I’ve considered it until now.” Jasper’s voice was even, though he was obviously afraid. ”Though I’ve heard that for murder, the Sklar will string a man up and leave him to fry in the sun. Can take days. Longer, if they give him tastes of the water he begs for.”
”Guess you must be relieved to see the giants, then. When you’re looking up at the soles of their feet, you’ll probably be afraid. The feeling will pass quickly.” The camp was in turmoil. A few had already deserted, and the horses that remained were loose. Here and there, people tried to corral them. Most were preparing to make a stand at the far end of camp.
”What do you suppose the giants want? I was hoping to talk my way out of an unhappy ending with the Sklar. Maybe I can do the same with them.”
”The same thing as the orcs.” Tanja’s hands were free. She moved to the cage, chewing at the bars.
”I suppose you’re intimately familiar with that. Tell me. And please, start from the beginning, I’m in no rush.”
Tanja spat out chunks of wood that tasted like grit and ash. ”They want you to love something.”
”Then they’ll think I’m a gift fit for a king. Why in the seven hells would they want that?”
Tanja stepped out of her cage. She looked at Jasper, still stuck in his, and her eyes blazed with a malevolent light. ”So they can kill it cruelly, and watch how it ruins you.”
A passing horse slowed, saddled. Tanja lept onto it and rode off, not looking back

--------------

Tanja rode uphill, fast as she could, until she got a view of the camp. The giants were closing, the pounding of their drums could be heard faintly. A fire was spreading among the tents. Through flecks of ash that spun in the swirling wind, Tanja could see that some of the Lyrune had mounted and were sweeping the area around the camp. ”Must be rounding up the deserters. Disciplined. I need to be the same. Find my things, hope to slip away when battle is joined. Then I can pick up Brega’s trail.” The horse liked the calm, measured sounds of her voice, the way she scratched it’s withers. It was calm now, hers to command.

Tanja tore down the hill at a gallop, moving for Drake-Shooter’s tent. The drums were closer now, rolling booms that could rattle teeth. Inside the tent, Tanja’s greatsword hung in its scabbard. She slung it over one shoulder, opening a chest. Nothing but gold. She grabbed a pouch. Another chest, some frilly clothes dyed bright purple. Bright blue birds embroidered on it, with a matching spell component pouch and a rapier. She left it open, moved to the next chest. Found her armor. Strapped on the breastplate, hands fumbling with the ties. Dropped the helmet on her head, put the rest of the armor in her pack. Her horse was outside, right where she left it. Hideous, inhuman laughter came from the far end of camp, mingled with the screams of the dying. She stood still, listening to the cries. So familiar, no different from the ones she heard in her dreams.

Tanja went back inside the tent, picked up the rapier and the spell component pouch. Rode back to where Jasper was, still stuck in his cage. He hadn’t even managed to get his hands free yet. She dropped the pouch at his feet, cut his bonds, and hacked the cage open with a sweep of her sword.
”Guess they haven’t ruined you, then,” he said, as though their conversation was unbroken.
”Not completely.”
”How in Torag’s name do you expect me to fight with just what you’ve brought me? I need my corset at least.”
”Not time to fight, it’s time to run. Can you ride?” Tanja swung up into the saddle, helping him up behind her.
”I know an exceptional poem about a rider. Several.”
”Then hold on tight.”

---------------

Tanja sat in front of Desna’s shrine. It’s chipped, peeling paint was dull blue like shattered dreams.
”I had a glass I looked at like that. You left it for the giants, along with my doublet.”
”A glass?”
”My town was famous for glass that could mesh the light of moon and sun, could catch dragon’s fire between twisted wires of silver and gold. Only thing I had left from the halcyon days of my youth.”
”Stupid to make things out of glass. Pieces of it will chip and shatter over the years, and then you’ll be left with nothing but dust and broken, jagged edges.” Tanja picked up a handful of sand, letting it sift between her fingers.
”All the more impressive, then, that my glass was still in pristine condition. Shiny and clear as though it were still brand new.”
”Help me kill the orcs I’m looking for, Jasper, and I’ll buy you a new one.”

-----------------

”You’re a better armorer than seamstress,” Jasper said, flexing his shoulders inside his new chain shirt.
”For now.”
”Really, it moves with my body like a fish's scales. A lot better than the doublet.”
”You’re going to need that armor soon, when you prove yourself. A person is always either a warrior, or a coward. I can’t wait to find out which one you are.”
They were moving south on foot, getting close to the Storval Rise. Jasper had sold the horse and used most of the rest of their gold to buy supplies. It was far easier for her to travel among the Shoanti, Tanja realized, when she was with a human. She was less than an outlander to these people, a stain on the land no more pleasant to witness than the approach of an emberstorm. And Jasper...had a way with words.
Tanja had originally planned to tell Brega she had orders from Urglin, that he needed to return to the city at once, and that she commanded his raiders now. If he went back to Urglin, she would have followed his trail a day or two later. If he questioned her authority, she would have fought him right then. None of the other orcs would wonder why a change in captain came with the old captain’s death. That plan wouldn’t work anymore. It had been too long since the orcs left Urglin, and she had Jasper with her now. She would need to stalk her prey.

-----------------

”That’s my lion,” Tanja said suddenly, stopping.
”That’s an empty, blasted wasteland,” Jasper said, surveying the Cinderlands. ”Actually, it’s not empty. It’s positively teeming with life, all of which wants to kill us.”
”Zaga and I have a link. He must be close, no more than a mile. Our senses are connected, twin hunters born under the stars, bonded since youth. He gave me these,” Tanja showed him the scars.
”Always wondered why you’re missing half an ear. Explains why you love him.”
”It’s dangerous to love.”
”And yet, here you stand beside me. Plain to see that there’s half a heart in there, at least.”
Tanja didn’t answer. Her eyes had rolled up into her skull. Her head twisted one way and then another, and then she gasped as she came back to herself.
”Time to free Zaga.”

----------------

”Should we...help them?” Jasper and Tanja watched as battle was joined.
”The last time I tried to help the Lyrune-Quah kill Brega and his band of raiders, they put me in a cage next to a scoundrel and a murderer.”
”He sounds dashing.”
”We should get close.” Zaga’s tail was lashing back and forth. ”Whichever side wins, Brega is mine.”

----------------

Tanja stood over Brega’s corpse and sobbed. Below her, the ground heaved and buckled. Above her, racing clouds were torn and rent. Far off, thunder was rumbling. The sounds of battle, close now, twisted in the whistling wind. The cries of the dying were more and more like the ones in Tanja’s dreams. She sank to her knees, gasping, clutching at her throat, screaming and desperate for air.
”I’m sorry, Tanja, I thought you knew.” Jasper was breathing hard, red blood dripping down his face.
”Thought I knew what?” She cried, her voice broken by doleful anguish.
”Killing him would never bring her back.”
”Good point,” Tanja rose, her grief buried beneath a cold, empty fury. There was no life in her eyes. She was all coiled steel and jagged edges, the twisted and merciless warrior she was made to be. ”I better kill Kruga too.”
”Eyes that have seen fire and sword have seen, and horror in the halls of stone, may yet look again on meadows green, and trees and hills they long have known.” Jasper put a hand on Tanja’s shoulder to steady himself. ”Let’s find the road that leads home.”

----------------

When the Lyrune-Quah who survived told stories of that day, they spoke of a bold, handsome outlander who fought with nothing but a slender sword. His powerful voice and clear words had turned the tide of battle, and made him a target for the orcs. When at last he was stricken with mortal wounds, the orcs had dragged his corpse behind the battle line and hacked hatefully at him with cruel swords, so that the ground was mired by his blood. But by then too many of their number had fallen. Soon they broke and fled, a captain with spiked armor and bloody hair leading a few survivors out of bowshot and into the hills. For his heroism, the outlander was given the Shoanti name Steel-Voice, and buried in a high place in the heartlands.
A tall and bloody half orc with a white tiger had walked beside Steel-Voice. Some whisper fearfully of her deeds in the weeks that followed. How she hunted the surviving orcs, each in their turn. Of what fell things she did when she found them, to satisfy her bloodlust, folk tell many tales. They say also that those who met her in that time thought they had witnessed an evil spirit, whose baleful gaze could not be met by mortal eyes. But all agree that before she rose in wrath, the half orc stopped and sat beside Steel-Voice, gazing into his dead and empty eyes. She spoke no words, and would not leave his side until the sun had set and risen again.

HP 11 (1d8+2+1)
AC 15 (+4 Armor, +1 Dex)
Saves
Fort +6, Ref +3, Will +3

Speed 30ft
Reach 5ft

Attacks
Scimitar +5 (1d6+6) 18-20
Bardiche +4 (1d10+6) 19-20 reach
Spell combat Scimitar +3 (1d6+4) 18-20 and cast a standard action spell as a full round action

Spells Prepared (on an adventuring day)
0th - Prestidigitation, Detect Magic, Read Magic
1st (DC 14) - Shield, Color Spray

Arcane Pool (4 points)
Swift action: make held weapon +1 weapon for 1 minute

Str 18 Dex 12 Con 14 Int 16 Wis 8 Cha 11
Feats: Weapon Focus (Scimitar)
Languages: Common, Orc, Abyssal, Draconic, Goblin, Ancient Osiriani
Traits: Magical Lineage (Shocking Grasp), Fate’s Favored, Inquisitive Archeologist, Artifact Hunter (History)
Drawback: Oppressive Expectations: whenever you fail a skill check, take -2 penalty on that check until a) you succeed at a check with that skill or b) you fail with a different skill

Race Traits
Sacred Tattoo
Darkvision
Intimidating
Fey Thoughts (Perception, Knowledge: Nature?)

Skills
Spellcraft 1 rank, +3 int, +3 class skill (+7)
Knowledge (Arcana) 1 rank, +3 int, +3 class skill (+7)
Knowledge (History) 1 rank, +1 trait, +3 class, +3 int (+8)
Knowledge (Planes) 1 rank, +3 class, +3 int (+7)
Knowledge (Geography) 1 rank, +1 trait, +3 int (+5)

Intimidate 0 ranks, +2 race (+2)
Perception 0 ranks, -1 wis (-1) {+2 vs Ancient Osiriani secret doors}

Background Skills
Linguistics 1 rank, +3 int (+4)
Knowledge (Engineering) 1 rank, +2 trait, +3 int, +3 class skill (+9)

Spellbook
All 0th level Magus spells (free)
6 1st level Magus spells (free)
Long Arm
Color Spray
Shield
Mount
Chill Touch
Frostbite

Equipment (240 gp) 220 so far
Leather Lamellar 60 gp
Scimitar 15 gp
Bardiche 13 gp
Spellbook (23 pages used) free
Osiriani history/engineering books 100 gp see masterwork tools, pathfinder chronicle, both of which which cost 50gp and provide a +2 bonus to a skill. I’d prefer to represent my character as carrying around numerous (heavy) books which provide knowledge skill bonuses for History/Engineering (which appears to be the archeology skill per player’s guide). I’m prepared to pay 100 gp for the two sets of books, if this seems unreasonable just talk to me about it. Samma will probably want to acquire more books when she gets more money
Magus Kit 22 gp
Journal 10 gp
20 Gold
Encumbrance: If you want me to track it just let me know, otherwise I’m assuming I’m at a light load

Fortunately, Samma loved history. While Mizha couldn’t fathom why Samma’s interests lay to the West instead of the East, she did encourage the girl to follow her passions. Mizha worked hard to get her granddaughter access to the archives at one of Katheer’s many universities. Samma fell in love with the few Osiriani artifacts she saw there. Her dull yellow eyes could gaze for hours unblinking at scripts and sarcophagi, at mummies and masks. Unfortunately, while she could pore over volumes of forgotten lore with great enthusiasm, Samma’s writing ability was simply insufficient to excel meaningfully as a scholar. Though her mind held many things, the half orc found that a sword fit her hand far better than a pen. And while her own flesh and blood could see past her sharp tusks and green-tinged skin, others were not so open minded. It would always have been hard for a half orc to find distinction among academics

Samma’s parents supported her in learning the ways of combat, wanting their daughter to pursue every opportunity for personal growth. But while the strapping young half-orc often felt comfortable with the long and potent weapons of her father’s people, the falchion or the bardiche, she was encouraged to study the ways of subtle spell and slender sword. Her arcane inclinations were undeniable, and greatly pleasing to Mizha as well as to her parents. Few of the great scholars carried a battle-axe, but a sword rested on the hip of more than one grand rector

So it was that Samma grew tall and strong, dreaming of the day when she might delve into forgotten tombs. It was a sheltered life, perhaps, but not an easy one. Samma knew that if she uncovered secrets long buried, she might earn a kind of scholarly distinction that wouldn’t require any writing. A bronzed and polished statue of her chiseled figure might look good, somewhere in the sun soaked library of kings. Besides, what sorts of dashing and roguish gentleman one might meet on an expedition to Osirion was anyone’s guess. Samma felt the call of an adventure, and resolved herself to answer it

Motivation
Samma is deeply fascinated by ancient Osirion. It’s become something of a lifelong passion. Even if there were no glory to be gained, no money to be had, and no one else interested in the Land of the Pharos, she’d probably still want to learn more. She’s been to Absolom, once, to see the museums there. She’d like to get a more intimate acquaintance with long sealed tombs and artifacts unknown

Samma is hoping to find some way to parlay her martial prowess and potential to be an adventurer into academic success and recognition. She wants to win a very specific, scholarly kind of glory, the kind that will be writ on the pages of books few will read. She’s not an ambitious woman, and she really only cares about admiration from people smart enough to count. Grandmother Mizha counts double. Her parents too, for that matter. It’s not that they weren’t loving, just that they always loved her most when she excelled. Samma does not have the option to excel in academia, but she thinks she just might make a good adventurer. Well, a scholarly adjunct to a party of adventurers, one who can carry her own weight and then some

HP 8 (1d6+1+1)
AC 13 (+2 Dex, +1 Armor) Flat 11 Touch 12
Fort +2 Ref +2 Will +3 {+2 vs disease, mind-affecting}
Resist Level Drain, Negative Energy Affinity

Speed 30ft
Reach 5ft

Hopeknife +1 (1d4) 19-20
Ray of Frost +2 touch (1d3+1)

Racial SLAs (DC 15)
Charm Person 1/day, Command 1/day

Sorcerer Spellcasting (CL 1)
0th (DC 14) - Prestidigitation, Penumbra?, Ray of Frost, Ghost Sound
1st (DC 15) 3/day - Cause Fear, Enlarge Person

Str 10 Dex 14 Con 12 Int 13 Wis 10 Cha 18
Feats: Spell Focus (Evocation), Eschew Materials (Sorcerer Bonus)
Traits
Trunau Native: +1 to Will saves, have a hopeknife
Magical Lineage (Fireball): Metamagic effects increase the level of fireball by one less
Resilient: +1 to Fort saves
Drawback
Warded Against Nature: animals will not willingly approach within 30ft unless they are coaxed via DC 20 wild empathy, handle animal, or ride check. I assume this does not apply to creatures that are actively trying to kill me

Skills (3/level)
Intimidate 1 rank, +8
Spellcraft 1 rank, +5
Knowledge (Arcana) 1 rank, +5
Perception o ranks, +2
Bluff 0 ranks, +6

Knowledge (Nobility) 1 rank, +2
Lore (Vampires) 1 rank, +5

Race traits
Undead Resistance: +2 vs disease, mind affecting
Resist Level Drain: no penalties from energy drain, can still be killed by them
Manipulative: +2 on bluff, perception
Darkvision, Low Light Vision, Light Sensitivity
Negative Energy Affinity: positive/negative energy inverted
Heir to Undying Nobility: Command/Charm person as 1/day SLAs

Class Features
Bloodline Undead (Sanguine):
Class skill: Knowledge (Religion)
Arcana: Necromancy spells are cast at CL +1
Bloodline Powers
The Blood is the Life (Su): At 1st level, you can gain sustenance from the blood of the recently dead. As a standard action, you can drink the blood of a creature that died within the past minute. The creature must be corporeal, must be at least the same size as you, and must have blood. This ability heals you 1d6 hit points and nourishes you as if you’d had a full meal. You may use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Charisma modifier.

Possessions
Hopeknife
Armored Kilt 20 gp
Liquid Ice 40 gp

Agate, Lilly’s mother, was much more worldly. Before Lilly’s hopeknife ceremony, Agate sat her down for a difficult conversation. “I am not blind to what you do, child, when you think no one is watching. I have seen the drained animals, heard the things you whisper in your sleep. You are a monster, and while I love you anyway, others will not be as kind as me. So have a care, and do not grow too close to them, though they treat you well. They will be disappointed, if you do.” Lilly nodded to show that she understood. She was glad she had a safe place to call home

It took a long time for Lilly to see what kind of lie this was. After displaying magical talent, she was introduced to Agrit for training. The woman didn’t ask the same questions other people did. Lilly’s eyes, cabochon jets that drank light like a void, didn’t make her flinch. Agrit’s eyes, azure and sparkling seas of summer, held only an open curiosity. Lilly liked that. She felt bad for Roger, a younger boy who also came to Agrit for instruction in the arcane arts, because he wouldn’t go inside if he thought she was there. But she spent as much time in the House of Wonders as she could

Once grown enough, Lilly began to be sent on patrols. “We think that magic you’re learning might come in handy one day,” Captain Kurst explained, “if only you can learn the best ways to use it.” Some of Lilly’s new companions were suspicious, others glad to have a nascent sorceress at their side

Though Lilly asked that no one offer her magical healing, she was careful not to do anything unsettling, not under so many watchful eyes. Not until her patrol was worsted in a bad ambush. She watched one of the other survivors tell the story to Kurst. “It’s not that I don’t understand, you can see the scar on her face, how bad the cut was, and how fast it healed. But she drank from the body of my cousin. The pyre will no less set him free, yet still...” The man’s voice was strained with anger and grief. “So much of his blood dripping red down her chin, the hunger in her eyes when she looked up at me...some things a man never forgets.”

Lilly has not been sent out since. Most people still look on her the same way they did before, Kurst didn’t circulate the story widely, and it hasn’t been long enough for folk to gossip about why she hasn’t returned to the patrols. Lilly wonders if there will be some other way for her to contribute to the safety of her people. And if they will not let her, perhaps it is time she moves on. Her scar is a testament to her willingness to fight for them, and she keeps her hair tied loosely back so that it’s clearly visible. “A scar like that should not, as a rule, make one more beautiful,” Berry told her when she first saw it. Lilly laughed, a sound like bones rattling together. “My friend, I would have thought you’ve known me long enough by now to learn that some rules are made to be broken.”

Lilly would like to help the people of Trunau. She’s more familiar than anyone with the deep bedrock of evil in her own dark heart, but hopes to prove that there’s more than a little good in there as well. She also thinks that if she can prove herself a powerful ally, she’ll gain a level of acceptance she’s never had

Overwhelmed at times by dark desires, Lilly tries her best not to take overtly evil actions. She sometimes fails. She’s killed animals and drank their blood (as tasty raw as cooked), though not since she received her hopeknife. She got a boy to cut open his hand so she could taste his blood (fine, but he wouldn't stop crying). She dug up a grave once (entirely unsatisfying). After being ambushed, she drank from the fresh corpse of another Trunau native (indescribably exquisite). Part of her is as repulsed as her own mother. Most of her hopes desperately that she will one day again bend over a fresh corpse. Ideally a human, but an orc might do as well. She’ll take what she can get; one line she won’t yet cross is murder without just cause