About ErimrielAdvancement Choices:
1st: Brawler; favored class: +1 skill Tracking:
alter self 1/day (CL: 1) martial flexibility: 4/4 Erimriel
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_____SPECIAL ABILITIES_____ Usually, a brawler's unarmed strikes deal lethal damage, but she can choose to deal nonlethal damage instead with no penalty on her attack roll. She has the same choice to deal lethal or nonlethal damage while grappling. A brawler's unarmed strike is treated as both a manufactured weapon and a natural weapon for the purpose of spells and effects that modify either manufactured weapons or natural weapons. _____STATISTICS_____
Drawback: Paranoid - Aid Another requires a DC 15 instead of DC 10. Traits:
Feats:
Skills: 3 (4 [Ranks] - 2 [Int] + 1 [Favored Class])
Racial Modifiers: +2 Heal; +2 Knowledge (planes) Languages: Common, Celestial _____GEAR/POSSESSIONS_____ Pony, "Uncle Istvan"
Carrying Capacity Light: 133 lbs. | Medium: 134-266 lbs. | Heavy: 267-400 lbs.
=================================================== Background:
Brevic politics are often a dangerous, if not lethal, enterprise. For members of the Rogarvia family, this holds especially true, even amongst their superiors -- especially amongst their superiors. Ostensibly, Kessil Rogarvia and his family were ambushed by a large group of Rostland rebels on a return trip from Port Ice to their family holdings in New Stetven, an allegation that has further incensed the boiling unrest between Brevoy's Issians and Rostlanders. As is typically the case in political maneuverings involving the Brevic houses, the story is an absolute fabrication. Kessil Rogarvia was not a bright man, but he was one of the fiercest, strongest, and most brutal warriors in the Rogarvian line. His prowess in combat and successful campaigns made him many friends in Brevoy -- he was a celebrated hero. Unfortunately, even the shield of public fame is not enough to stay the hidden hand of a vengeful lord. Kessil bragged and boasted too loud and too often. One too many slips of the tongue while deep in the drink at very public gatherings earned him Domani's ire -- too many claims of ineptitude in the Surtovan family's governance. What's worse, Kessil managed to marry a beauty that Domani Surtova had lusted after for years. Their procession was overtaken by a large, well-armed force at the Awzera crossing to Silverhall. Kessil's house guards and retainers fell like grass to the scythe. Kessil offered a heroic defiance, his foes falling in growing piles around the Brevic hero as they pushed forward, one wave after another. It was not until the brigands subdued his Merila (his wife) and twin girls that the lord ceased his resisting and relinquished his blade. For his cooperation, they slit Merila's throat and tossed her into the river. Kessil resumed his attack, unarmed and enraged. He managed to kill another half score of men before he was overwhelmed. Erimriel remembers little of that day. She recalls one of their attackers attempting to hold her and her sister under the freezing waters of the Awzera river. But they possessed celestial boons that rendered drowning a non-issue. As one, the twins assumed the form of gilled creatures and squirmed free from their assailant's grasp. Most details elude Erimriel, however. She came to be separated from her twin in their panicked struggle, and she never saw her sister again. As for Erimriel? She was found on the riverbanks beneath Silverhall. A young Gorumite mercenary-priest found the girl while having a piss after an evening of heavy drinking. Garlynde plucked the aasimar-toddler up from the water by her leg, but perceived immediately that she bore the blood of the heavens. After learning of what had befell the child, and her family, the cleric elected to keep the child safe from the predations of Surtovan nobility. They searched for her twin as far as could reasonably be expected, but she never turned up. Most of Erimriel's formative years were spent among Garlynde's Gorumite mercenary war-band, the Crowfeeders. She learned their tricks and trades well, but her ancestry forever set her apart from their glory-seeking days. By the time she had matured to adulthood, fifty years had passed. Most of the Crowfeeders had either grown old or died. Garlynde, bent and greying with age, extended Erimriel a final kindness before setting off to "die a death worth dying" in the eastern mountains: a letter of recommendation to the Swordlords of Restov and enough belongings to get her there in one piece. The Stolen Lands beckon. She's not interested in the glory or the grandeur. But she has experienced the comeradery of a likeminded band of adventurers during her time with the Crowfeeders, and it's something she'd like to find again. If she gets to thrash a bunch of brigands and beasties along the way, all the better -- Gorum loves a good fight, and so does she. Personality:
Fierce: Erimriel is an adventure-seeker with unrestrained emotions. She does not shy away from obstacles or challenges, instead embracing them with reckless glee. Slow to Trust: Her upbringing with the Crowfeeders was not very easy initially. Owing to the tragedy of her childhood, she has a hard time letting others in completely. It's as if she anticipates a hidden knife at any time. . . Hard to Lose: . . .but when someone has secured her friendship, it is an adamantine bound pact. Such a friendship becomes a surrogate family, and she is fiercely loyal to such persons. Unyielding Righteousness: She will not stomach or tolerate the depravities of the wicked. She will correct the problem without mercy or hesitation. Description:
Erimriel has pushed her body hard over the decades, which has resulted in thick muscles and strong features. Owing to her angelic heritage, her body is perfectly symmetrical. Her back supports extra muscles for wings that never formed -- only barely noticable spurs on the inner side of her shoulder blades. Hair the color of the night sky spills down her back and shoulders, occasional glimmers and flecks of silver shimmering from within its confines to paint a tapestry of the very heavens themselves. Crystalline, green eyes rest beneath fierce, thin eyebrows.
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