Traits: ouched by Divinity (1/day, domain ability – empyreal lord Tolc), Fate's Favored (Whenever you are under the effect of a luck bonus of any kind, that bonus increases by 1)
The son of a half-orc crusader and a Kellid from the Gate district of Kenebres, it was only natural that Droosch Two-Blood would inherit the ability to touch the spirit world – and it could touch him. While most would interpret shamanism as being witchcraft with a different name, a father in the crusades helped shield his son (and his wife) from the gaze of the inquisitors.
The gift was not always passed down perfectly to each generation, but Droosch nevertheless inherited. As he grew older, Droosch began to hear from his mother stories – stories that she heard as a child, of spirits of the tundra speaking to the seers of old Sarkoris. The spirits of the cold north, would greatly desire the erasure of the abominations that now walk the land. Soon, the voices he heard telling this story, were not his mother’s, but various entities beseeching him to help the crusade.
Droosch stands an even 6’0”, and while his orcish heritage is rather apparent – skin a mottled green, and lower tusks – his figure is more slight, and proportioned to that of a human’s. Dark brown eyes gaze out from beneath his lanky, thick black hair. He’s a generally agreeable person, though he finds some of the Mendevian crusaders a bit pompous – even if they’re sorely needed, mainly due to the “witch hunts”.
RP sample:
Droosch walked down the cobbled streets of Kennebres, taking in the cold morning air. He stopped, looking up at the bruised, purple sky. All things considered – being about spitting distance from a literal Apocalypse on Golarion – a purple sky seemed rather quaint. Then, he paused an gave a quiet growl.
Another thing had grasped the half-orc’s attention: sitting on the roof, about 20 feet above him, was a stark white fox peering down at him. Taking out the consideration that a fox sitting that high up, one may noticed that the canine’s coat seemed to shimmer, slightly showing off a scattering of star and constellations.
Looking around briefly, and seeing no one around, he spoke to the fox. ”Krish, what are you doing up there? What would the Iomedeans think about this?” Krish gave a slight yawn, and stepped off the roof. About half way down, he began to glow, and then slowly floated downwards. He looked up at Droosch, and the other felt a cold breeze as the fox opened his mouth. TOLC, the wind spoke. Droosch frowned – the spirits would speak through Krish at times, but not often.
Droosch gave a slight shiver. It wasn’t the cold, nor from Krish’s word. No, something else felt off. He gazed back at the sky again, feeling the chill and wondering what is bode.
Feats Dodge, Eschew MaterialsB
Skills Acrobatics +6, Bluff +8, Knowledge (arcana) +5, Knowledge (nature) +6, Spellcraft +6, Use Magic Device +7; +2 Acrobatics, Climb, and Perception.
Languages Common, Halfling, Kellid
Bloodline Arcana: Whenever you cast a spell with a range of personal, your skin toughens, granting you a natural armor bonus equal to the spell's level for 1d4 rounds. This bonus does not stack with any other natural armor bonuses you might have.
Tanglevine (Sp): At 1st level, as a standard action, you can create a 15-foot-long, animated vine that springs from your hand. This vine lasts for 1 round and can be used to make a single disarm, steal, or trip combat maneuver, using your sorcerer level plus your Charisma modifier in place of your normal CMB. You can use this power a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Charisma modifier.
Traits: Know-it-all (+1 Know [Nature]), Resilient (+1 to Fort)
A halfling born in Ustalav, Clive Cribs can trace a good part of his lineage of ex-Chelish slaves who made it through the winding Sellen River(s), and eventually became attached to the some local plantation owners in exchange for decent living. However, a smaller (and less known) part of his family lived amongst the swamp folk of the nearby Graidmere swamp – folk, it was said, whose blood could hold powers from the very fauna of the land.
Growing up on the outer limits of Karcau, Clive Cribs didn’t have much of an exciting life. While the plantation he was raised on wasn’t unduly harsh (he and his kin were not slaves like his ancestors in Cheliax), it could be rather tedious. When his powers began to manifest – plants growing or withering inexplicably, odd whispers coming from the foliage around the plantation, things began to change. Fearful of being seen as a witch, he tried his best to control his abilities, and things began to quiet down.
Clive’s master, who does business with the Baron, was entertaining his lord one day. While serving some drinks (which Clive preferred over managing cotton), he overheard Baron Viktor complaining about an artist he had commissioned wasn’t capturing a scene just right. After the tea was poured, Clive quipped that a good way to portray his piece was to paint a nearby willow grove during the dawn hours. While his master paled with anger and embarrassment, the Baron gave a chuckle and his thanks to the young Halfling.
Clive is generally genial, though prefers to be so with close friends and family. While he wishes few people ill, he often prefers not to get overly involved with stranger’s dilemmas (with some exceptions, such as when he’s moved to do so). However, he can be quite loyal to people that earn his trust.
He (and some in his family) adheres to a few quirks, especially concerned with the supernatural. He often fingers a serpent’s skill (which hangs around a loop on his belt) when he’s feeling anxious. If he enters the Graidmere (or any discernible swamp), he places both hands in the squishiest mud and mutters some words: in an appeal to the resident spirits of the marsh.
