Understandably sad news for Paizo, but as a longtime follower of Ms. Frasier's work (and shameless fangirl thereof), I can only wish her all the best in whatever campaign she's embarking upon next.
Crystal, there's truly nothing I could say that hasn't already been addressed by the community. You're a truly inspirational and endlessly entertaining individual, and I look forward to whatever lies ahead for you both with and beyond Paizo.
So Godspeed, adventurer; may your sword-arm hold fast and your inkpen never dry!
They definitely fill the role of "Upstanding Member of Eutropia's inner circle" to some degree, but within reason I could maybe seeing this work conceptually. If you feel like worshiping a slightly more off-the-beaten-track deity, there's a few Lawful and Good Gods that cover darkness and investigation...
• The as-yet-unfurnished Empyreal Lord Kelinahat [Archon Lord of Intelligence, Stealth and Spies] is my personal favourite here, and one my chief prospective character is at least marginally affiliated to. (My Kingdom for an Obedience, Paizo!)
• Zohls [Archon Sherlock Holmes Lord of Truth, Determination and Investigation] is also fairly apt.
• Tanagaar [Archon Lord of Night, Watchfulness, Hunting] if you originate from a more rural area of Taldor; Northern Tandak or the Verduran Forest for example.
• Alternatively, if you're a foreign ambassador of the distant lands of Tian Xia, or your character is otherwise somehow familiar with the Dragon Empire faiths, there's also Tsukiyo [LG Prince of The Moon, Lunacy, and Spirits]—the latter domain of which I understand may somehow end up relevant when a back-end WftC AP book has the word "Soul" in its title.
* Of course this is not an exhaustive list; there are lots of other reasonable faiths to choose from, and as a Paladin in a PF1 Home Game you need not worship a deity at all.
Dusk Knights exist, so there's a premise for some less-than-reputable methods of attacking at least. Even Ragathiel's faith employs the likes of Crimson Templars, who are in no uncertain terms described as "Heaven's Assassins" and are beholden to a code not unlike the Paladin Code of Conduct, though notably lack the "Cannot Lie" clause. On the whole, trying to avoid combat through diplomacy is something most Paladins would want to accomplish in regards to non-monstrous foes (and even some monstrous ones!)—which is fairly appropriate for at least some of what this AP is going for, or so I've been told.
Ultimately a very careful Paladin, who wholeheartedly believes in supporting Eutropia's cause for the greater good, could easily fit the same role as a Cavalier in this AP as "Noble Knight" or some such—but I'm not going to deny that, depending on your actions and what you choose to be aware of, there's a non-zero chance that your DM may judge an atonement or two to be in order. That, however, is absolutely a discussion between Player and DM that should take place well before the pencil hits the character sheet, much less dice hitting the table.
TL;DR - Yeah, sure, Paladins should work. Maybe not the traditional Iomedaean Paladin, but you could probably work it out with your Party/DM if everyone is on board.
as would Shelyn but requiring the enemy strike first is a pain in most campaigns.
That's an anthema from a PF2 playtest blog. It's not a thing in PF1.
Actually...
Shelyn's Paladin Code wrote:
I am peaceful. I come first with a rose rather than a weapon, and act to prevent conflict before it blossoms. I never strike first, unless it is the only way to protect the innocent.
Still anathema to Shelyn's faith in the Golarion setting, PF Editions be damned; just not fundamentally tied into the core Paladin class (though I do think it's rather poor form to ignore your chosen deity's tenets.)
Sadly, every campaign I’ve run since 2009 or so has been in Golarion, regardless of module or game system. My players still refer to Cheliax as “that devil place” and don’t know the names of any god other than Asmodeus (even those that have played clerics!) They didn’t recognise the name Sandpoint and had to be reminded of Korvosa (despite having played both RotRL and CotCT).
Lords have mercy. Don't get me wrong, I understand not being terribly brushed up on the material or forgetting the odd deity, and Gorbacz is right that it's not wrongbadfun that some players just enjoy the game(s) as you go...but I think that's probably my own personal DMing hell. Running for tables that don't absorb basic facts about the world I'm trying to conjure for their amusement. *shudder* (also, that mental image. Gorbacz. why.)
But back on-topic: I do believe that, at least for some of us, the old adage of "It's the little things that make the difference" applies. Knowing how to answer questions from prospective players about the political structure of Taldor (in a Political AP about Taldor) seems pretty relevant. Personally I'm of the opinion that the generic use of male-first primogentiture in Taldor isn't nearly as prevalent as it was in ancient legislation, and throughout time the bias towards women in positions of power has not only waned, but ultimately dissolved in favour of other political goals. The last bastion of this law, as it stands, appears to be with the Crown itself; a notion that is iconic, representative of Taldor's state of stubbornness and stagnation, and a perfect example of a fundamental change in Taldor's history should Eutropia succeed in her attempts to inherit the throne.
Now I'm not saying there isn't a lot of Telling and not enough Showing in WftC and Taldor regarding this apparently widespread bias (and honestly, I'm a player who really is only hearing this second-hand from my DM and the parts of the AP he's permitted us to peruse, plus both of Taldor's supplemental books)—but maybe this is one of those things that Paizo didn't feel necessary to beat us over the head with, much like Eutropia's political plans, for the sake of tailoring to individual tastes. I dunno. I'm not a developer. Just a lore-hound throwing my two copper into the pond.
As far as I'm aware or concerned, my DM is intending to push the notion of Taldor's continued decline to the forefront, with the idea that Taldan Primogentiture is simply the best example of an outdated, out-of-touch concept that has no place in the Inner Sea's future, much less that of Taldor alone. And that, at least for most purposes, should suit our table just fine.
Not that I care to undermine my own DM here, but: kind reminder that the Whispering Way is predominately Neutral Evil as well, and that their philosophy doesn't necessarily "clash" with any substantial sect of Norgorber's portfolio (at least as far as I know, though Tar-Baphon's fanclub is far from my subject of expertise.) If anything, I could definitely see the Whispering Way having a lot of common ground under his manifest as the Reaper of Reputation, and I hardly think much would need restructuring in terms of justifying Barzillai's affiliation in that respect. Heck, if you're really wanting to expand their influence, consider some of the earlier events of Book 6 as something they may well have been working towards, if not downright assisting with. It would certainly go some way towards hinting Tiarise Izoni's inevitable fate, at any rate.
Vyre is slightly more complex, but that may or may not be an issue at all depending on how deep you and your players are prepared to go down that rabbit hole. I for one concur with Trichotome: it's a fantastic setting, rife for intrigue and additional ploys and schemes as you please, but beyond its presentation in connecting the Silver Ravens to Molly and That Damn Tiefling, an in-depth introduction to Vyre isn't necessary for the purposes of Hell's Rebels' story.
Mechanically speaking, throwing together some appropriately themed Undead and adjusting the Grey Spiders as more necrotic in nature should probably do the trick. Throw around some Advanced Deathwebs, a Yurei or two, maybe some Exoskeleton'd Ogre Spiders if you want to give them something to chew on? Sure. Definitely doable.
...my group and I are big on expanding the lore outside the bounds of the AP proper.
...That sure is an understatement...
Serious note: Trichotome's got it right regarding WftC comparisons to HR. As a player of the latter I'd say WftC definitely seems to adhere more to that skill and narrative focus than some areas of Hell's Rebels, which dances a bit from one extreme to the next depending on player approach. At the very least, WftC seems to know where it stands in that regard: and it isn't with people brazenly opposing a tyrannical government so much as methodically seizing control (if not certainly Influence!) of an otherwise increasingly volatile one.
Of course I can only comment on what Trichotome's previously illustrated to me regarding WftC (for contextual purposes)—and he could be lying to me so your mileage will vary.
...but you wouldn't do that to your players, now would you?
Hnn. On second thought, maybe don't answer that.
*Scurries off with her "let's shoehorn in six scenarios and a special into Wrath of the Righteous Book 2" toybox before the spoileriffic paps begin in earnest*
Agreed, Corvus. The best thing about differing opinions is that so much good can come of alternate perspectives and amicable discussion. I've so far enjoyed reading Damian's thoughts, as I (and others) can note these as potential concerns going forwards. Yes, I disagree with a good percentage based on differing stances of what APs "should" provide as motivation, but that's all chocolate and strawberries. I'm not going to convince anyone to love my flavour of choice, but I'd advise no one to complain that my brand of choice didn't provide a spoon with my purchase. I suspect it's a sort of bare-minimum entry requirement, which I personally feel is adequate given this AP is billed as being significantly heavier on the RP side than most.
(Sorry. Dessert's still on the brain.)
Now back to the topic. Another line I'd like to address:
Damian von Moorganrood wrote:
...politics are an astoundingly grey area where being selfish and cut throat is a way of life in this arena, that is something that most people who have been arguing against my point have failed to realize...
Loathe as I am to declare absolutes: that's simply wrong. Given the educated audience that we are, I imagine most people have realised this just fine; it's that many, many people are tired enough of it in their everyday lives that bringing in the worst characteristics of an already divisive subject is just an exercise in exhaustion (kind reminder that politics occur everywhere; among your family, your friends, your colleagues...being a "politician" isn't isolated to big fancy sponsored affairs and cloak-and-dagger hijinks. Sometimes it's in something as simple as managing your staff rota at the office.) Sure, you can argue that there are works that play on the grit and "reality" of grand political agendas with gusto (Game of Thrones being the obvious namedrop here in modern literature and media)—and while some find that prospect alluring, others gawp at it and would like some meager shred of idealism in there because, last I checked, you're all still marketed on the "Hero" side of the scale in this AP. You don't have to be, I suppose, but as I said last time: broad strokes, assumptions, ice-cream-still-not-materialising-in-my-freezer...you get the gist.
Now as for that last part...hnn. Not to keep it buoyant but: Loyalty is one thing—I for one believe everything Crystal Fraiser has touched so far is gold, and I've heard little to think War for the Crown will change my mind on that (so far!)—but advancing to direct slander is excessive in the extreme. Try and remain civil, people, and keep it to the content. We're all fellow hobbyists here.
...Besides; this is about as close to the content as I'm getting until the Player's Guide decides to show up, as my DM (like most) won't be running this until all six volumes are in print. Product Discussion (including constructive critique) is therapeutic for my rabid Golarion addiction, and no doubt helpful to Paizo in seeing what points of contention there are in their products.
As someone who has yet to read the AP book itself (as I'm a proud and leisurely player-in-waiting that would prefer a lack of explicit foreknowledge [in direct spite of my want to delve headfirst into the fray!]) — please take any commentary going forwards with a pinch of salt. That said: I do, however, feel need to address one particular point that's been raised:
Damian Van Moorganrood wrote:
sounds fine until you apply a little thought, so how about i reprase the question
"why should we support you and not just go to the your enemys, tell them where you are and be rewarded when THAT new kingdom is formed?"
For Spacial Convenience:
While motivation is paramount to any budding hero's career, I can't help but feel that this is something of an egregious expectation. The Adventure Path outlined here is simply one particular narrative of potential events; if your party is against the grain of "Small band of neophyte spies and their politically backhanded patron rise to become masters of espionage in a decadent kingdom ruled by intrigue and influence" — then this likely isn't going to be the story best tailored to their interests.
Ultimately Paizo and its staff cannot possibly hope to write for every possible eventuality and circumstance; it's simply not feasible within the limit of their page counts and schedules and, more importantly, it still wouldn't cater to every possible taste available. Broad strokes and assumptions are made for the sake of weaving a compelling story. Hell's Vengeance doesn't opt for you to throw your lot in with the Glorious Reclamation, as I recall, nor does it offer the option of candidly telling House Thrune to go f&&+ itself because you like being your own independent brand of Evildoer™ (...as far as I remember, at least). The logical stance in Hell's Rebels is, on a purely pragmatic scale, not even being involved in the plot at all because such an individual is either going to leave for greener pastures* or would conduct themselves in a manner as is becoming for a servant of the newly inducted head-of-local-government (who is as genre savvy as he is a complete a$*$#!&, the likes of which quite literally honors him a very special place in Hell). Similarly, at no point during Wrath of the Righteous are you given a written option for PCs to lay down their arms and declare, "Screw this, I'm going to [insert relevant Inner Sea resort of choice], good luck with this clusterf%++" — because again, the AP makes the clear assumption that the PCs, for whatever reason, are invested in their campaign's cause.
As I understand it, War for the Crown's "Cause" of choice is placing Eutropia on the throne, along with all the trimmings of being a prospective member of her inner circle. The motivations, as ever, are open to player choice, leaving the details of Eutropia herself to be tailored by those same inclinations (as to make for a more rewarding experience when your party's hard work comes to fruition) and from a pragmatic standpoint is relevant for reasons already noted above. Yes, you can petition to serve another inheritor of your choice, but let's be real about this. This is Taldor; land of history, heritage, and influence. How many are going to personally hold a conversation with you—lowly novices of the social arts, barely trespassing the first stair of their chosen careers—and how many more are liable to view such individuals as little more than another expendable investment in the now rapidly-accelerating Grand Game of Primogen Thrones?** And if your party is fine with that—happy to sell their potential for smaller, faster gains? Then they cash-in their Calls to Adventure and you all find something else to play that better suits your preferred flavour of Roleplay. Not really seeing a problem.
[size=smaller]*My bard would like to attest that there are no finer lands than the bright plains of Ravounel, and therefore all such individuals are both wrong and mad.
**Of course you can weave whatever tale you like; I believe I've seen mentions of notes for alternative candidates, should you so choose. But then...Why not weave with Eutropia, as has already been implied to be the intent? (admittedly a sidebar would've helped with that, I'd bet, but eh; hindsight is silver, page space is gold, and being able to overcome both is a 9th level spell).[/size]
As an Aside...:
Sometimes I like to go to a store and find some ice-cream that is labelled strawberry. I like it better when it's got a robust flavour that I can add my own sprinkles and sherbet and wafers to, but it's still gonna be that yummy strawberry ice-cream taking center stage because I don't yet have my dream job of making my own ice-cream for a living (and my bank balance practically worships the brand anyway). I'm not quite sure what to say to people that expect it to be a tub full of Kyoninese Strawberries that through arcane shenanigans can be made to mimic their favourite strawberry-based flavour experience; other than they don't exist and that we couldn't afford them even if they did.
Doesn't bother me though. I've got ice-cream waiting for me in my freezer, and the general consensus from my nearest and dearest (who share similar tastes) is that after getting 1/6th of the way into their own tubs, they seem to think it tastes pretty good so far. Maybe needs a little sugar and cream to really make those flavours pop, but hey, what cook doesn't have that in their pantry?
That said, I hate chocolate ice-cream, and often critique it for tasting powdery or insubstantial...but some people really love that and can eat it right out of the tub without batting an eyelid. I'm gonna take a good guess that, since we're all talking to each other in the Frozen Treats section of the World Wide Walm*rt, we all love ice-cream. We're just possessed of different tastes and methods of customizing desserts to our liking.
Male Fetchling (Bound to Golarion) Shadow Oracle 2 | HP 15/15 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 CMD:13 | F:1 R:3 W:1 | Resist Cold 5, Electric 5 | Initiative +2 | Sense Motive -2 | Perception -2 | Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft.
"So you see, Master Kels: we aren't monsters. Even Lord Darellus himself—" And Kayal makes a point to punctuate the man's title, "—is but one man; albeit charged with doing what he can in these trying times. And as loyal subjects of Cheliax, of its people, so are we. I think I speak for everyone in saying that a diplomatic solution to this is best for all parties involved, if only the option were made available to us. It's all rather discourteous. Perhaps if we made your muse's acquaintance, we could all discuss the issue like the civilized people that we are. Alas that she seems so reluctant to materialise..."
Kayal slides his eyes to Vokrin, otherwise unmoving, before bringing his glower back to the desk proper. "Forgive him. Our Archmage is a man of tempered action, as I'm sure you're well aware. In any case, even should you doubt our charge: please do not doubt that our own personal intentions are entirely devoted to Longacre's continued well-being."
Male Fetchling (Bound to Golarion) Shadow Oracle 2 | HP 15/15 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 CMD:13 | F:1 R:3 W:1 | Resist Cold 5, Electric 5 | Initiative +2 | Sense Motive -2 | Perception -2 | Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft.
As Rurisa goes to retrieve the bard, Kayal sighs a prayer for Kuthite mercy and coats himself with another of his spells (Enhanced Diplomacy); doing his best to appear wholly professional—standing across the desk with all the uncanny stillness his race typically exudes, knuckles cracking as his fists come together beneath his sleeves. There is something distinctly off about his own greeting as he gives Kels a short bow of the head; finishing with a look that one might offer a small, easily frightened animal.
"Good morning, Master Kels. Forgive me if you do not recall, but I am Kayal of Ridwan. No doubt you remember Ms. Thelvarn. Ms. Staelish. Archmage Vokrin. Master Penance." He indicates to each of their party in kind with a nod. "First, allow me to apologize on behalf of my comrades that your accommodation this evening has been...less than warranted. Fear not though; should you prove compliant with our investigations—we shall endeavor that your stay in Longacre remains as short and painless as can be reasonably possible." The Fetchling smiles, keen to imply that the bard's life presently teeters on the validity of his cooperation.
"Now I understand that you are a man of stories, Master Kels—and a...memorable one at that. To start, might I ask you for the tale that explains your being in Longacre? From one transient to the next, such as it is." He cocks his head to the side, yellowing eyes narrowing just a touch. "That you keep so many of its locals in your company speaks volumes of your character. I admit my curiosity—whatever did you share to make them so amicable?"
Is it obvious I want to see this Minstrel stick his foot in his mouth?
Diplomacy (Enhanced Diplomacy):1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 8 + 2 = 25+2 if Rurisa's Aid Another is still in play
Male Fetchling (Bound to Golarion) Shadow Oracle 2 | HP 15/15 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 CMD:13 | F:1 R:3 W:1 | Resist Cold 5, Electric 5 | Initiative +2 | Sense Motive -2 | Perception -2 | Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft.
Kayal blinks silently from his position, offering small nods amidst the conversation but failing to add to the debate. Tempted as he is by the thought of simply plucking out the minstrel and Caggan in the midst of sedition, the thought of having to manage a bar of stumbling drunks does sound somewhat less appealing when put into the wider context and he quietly concedes the idea to reason.
His brow does rise somewhat at Penance's impromptu complement, and more still at the thought of persuading the tavern owner to be more than the oaf he appears—but Kayal's not about to argue. Rurisa has a point, if not one he would typically concur with.
"The man has curious fears," he notes, tone thoughtful as he recalls the frightened mutterings of a half-beaten brute. "They may prove exploitable, if you think it worth pursuing. Master Zoags could be amiable to further assistance, given the motivation, but I am of course open to whatever course of action you all deem most fit."
About those letters:
No sooner than the Hellrazor asks for assistance does Kayal appear to produce an ebon inkpen from his sleeve, and, with a narrowing eye to Rurisa's abysmal handwriting, slowly pulls the paper out from under her before the parchment can suffer further offense. While the priest may not care much for the particulars of his day-to-day duties, giving proper (read: legible) attention to clerical affairs is one of the few things the Fetchling actually has a spine for.
"Perhaps you would prefer to dictate, Ms. Thelvarn." Despite its content, it's exceedingly clear that the sentence is not intended as a question.
Male Fetchling (Bound to Golarion) Shadow Oracle 2 | HP 15/15 | AC:17 T:12 FF:15 CMD:13 | F:1 R:3 W:1 | Resist Cold 5, Electric 5 | Initiative +2 | Sense Motive -2 | Perception -2 | Low-Light Vision, Darkvision 60ft.
"Don't we all, Ms. Staelish," Kayal concurs, before settling in for the speech proper.
Post-Speech
Kayal does not think much to Allamar's babbling, and his frown intensifies as she proceeds to wax lyrical about the prospects of an untamed Cheliax to the crowds.
By the time of the Sword-Knight's exit, the Fetchling has taken his leave of his post and rejoined the congregation below, speaking with a voice too loud to be anything but intentional as he meanders toward the front of the crowd.
If the clergy is fit to flap its mouth, Kayal has absolutely no problem with vomiting nonsense in kind.
"Pretty words and a talented armoursmith. Isn't that just 'Iomedaean' all over? So devoted to their cause that they would not dare to stand before us and bark heresy, and instead sends a petty letter and some nonsense of glory that does not exist. Cheliax is a land of opportunity and righteous order, and these ridiculous souls seek only to return us all to a time of civil calamity and warfare–and I had thought our veterans had already done their fair share of that. I for one will not stand for it. The Archbaron will not stand for it, the country will not stand for it, the Crown will not stand for it."
Properly poised at the helm of the crowds, just distant enough from Rurisa and the others to appear marginally unrelated, he looks between the Allamar lads and their shined silver prize with painful disappointment. "Tell your mother and her figment that they waste their time. Neither Longacre nor Cheliax needs need your petulant 'glory'."
"Well." Kalais pulls out a small, barely clean cloth from her sleeve and dabs at her mouth. There's barely more than three or so mouthfuls left, but with Viridi's candid storytelling, it's clear the ranger is stopping not because the heavens have graced her with a sated appetite, but because she's having difficulty enjoying anything with the image of a carving knife blade-deep in some unfortunate man's skull lingering in her mind.
"That..." She pauses, stirring her water before putting it to her mouth and muttering, "...Yikes.."
Kalais has never been the best of morning creatures, and the haggard look on her face speaks of a dawn spent chasing shadows rather than the more preferred pastime of chasing dreams. A few days wild in the Hinterlands have marked themselves well with mud stains, sore muscles, and the smallest spot of blood on her sleeve; but nothing worth a mention. Recent theories that Giant incursions might've spread further east were alarming, sure--alarming enough to send an Arrow, apparently--but so far Kalais has had little to show for it. And that, she admits (though she may occasionally chafe at the notion of being sent on a fruitless chase) is absolutely for the best.
Still, with the worst of her trek behind her and a proper road finally beneath her feet, Kalais thinks to pick up the pace, the sooner to put a pint of applejack in her hand, and before too long the vague outline of Sandpoint at last reaches her senses. That, and the loud guffaw of a dwarven man in transit, to which she mentally tallies off a check-list as she passes by; the trait ingrained by years of service to the Magnimar City Guard. One dwarf, burly as ever. A beast of burden, typical as anything. Some manner of goblin. Assorted goods. A human guardian, or at least she assumes as much; surely no commoner wields that much weaponry...?
"Wait, what?"
Still groggy, the scout blinks once. Then again, rubbing her eyes, as if the sight of a Dwarf, a Human, and a Goblin holding something even vaguely resembling a conversation were as completely ludicrous as it sounds. The bow at her shoulder is unslung with a telling speed, ammunition on the cusp of being drawn if not for the Ranger's blatant weariness and confusion at the distinct lack of violence in this transient scene. "Shouldn't be needing to tell you that thing's better dead, right?"
As the party continues to discuss their options, Jaer stands poised at the edge of the pool, peering hopelessly into the water with an almost callous disregard for the ongoing conversation. After a moment, the Halfling riffles through her goods, eventually producing a long, thin iron stick. A swift crack against her knee bursts the item to life in a haze of yellow light.
"Welp, here's your light," Jaer offers helpfully, turning to Irgal and Illya, sunrod spinning in her hand. "I'd volunteer myself, but...y'know. Magic."
Sunrods, ladies and gentlemen. Never leave home without one!
Bot the Android! Hah! You're of course welcome to do so should you find it necessary; life is not being as cooperative as I would like, to put it mildly. Though with how cramped this scenario is, I fear I am quite useless without potentially causing more harm than good. Boo.
Still squinting following the creature's sudden burst of light, Tio listens intently to Arkady's explanation with an ever-deepening frown whilst Rust, by contrast, appears to have gone the more blunt manner of cursing loudly in her stead.
Nodding in understanding as Arkady moves up, his eyes diverted from the creature, she mouths another incantation and, once fired, does her best to follow suit, drawing her direct gaze away..
Jolt vs Touch AC:1d20 + 3 - 4 - 4 ⇒ (14) + 3 - 4 - 4 = 9Gonna wager that's still not quite enough to land, given the penalties.
I have to admit, this whole thing gives me a headache.
1. Readied Actions with specific declarations ("I hit it if it comes close to me" or something similar) trigger regardless of the circumstances. If it comes close to you, and you are able to hit it, the action triggers. That's how I've been playing it for the last however-many-years its been.
2. Sure. Warpriests can spontaneously cure...but taking control of a PC to reaffirm that action instead of specifically asking the player if that's what they'd like to do (well, unless they're Dominated anyway) is not something I appreciate unless you've agreed it ahead of time. PbP or not.
3. Also familiar with those critters from another life. Did not expect one to show here, and this early. Yikes.
"Hence our being here," Tio adds, finally turning aside from the stained glass, her features a touch more animated than they previously have been. "I take no pleasure in wasting your time, Father, nor do our fellows here think we are in excess of it. Should we retrace Councilman Baine to his current whereabouts, there may very well be a chance we can discover something more substantial regarding Black Hill en-route."
The Android crosses her arms, then puts a thumb to her chin, thinking aloud. "Chance of Black Hill's extinguishing and the expeditionary disappearances running concurrently is...not zero. Initial partakers were armed, yes? Bloodless investigation unlikely. Several unknowns still present; caves said to hold Darkland connections? Not certain what need the Darklands have of a glaucite doorway. Not certain what need any would have of a glaucite doorway. Clear waste of resources." She pauses. "Doorway? No. Freddert described walls. Doors. Doors. Plural. Curious. Something particular beneath Black Hill? A structure? Cannot be the whole of Black Hill. Can it? From subterranean cave to the torch itself?"
"Oh." Midway through her rambling, Tio comes to a sudden halt, her train of thought long departed; forgotten as she offers to Joram a rare and genuine smile. "Hello Father Kyte."
Allllrighty then. Hourai here, apologies for the delay; this little missy did not want her history condensing, but I've given it a shot (though I still feel it needs more than a little work...)
Anyway, consider this my hat in the ring: Salem Kastelios. Former Factotum of Citadel Dinyar.
For your further convenience:
Summary:
Salem Kastelios Race: Tiefling (Pass for Human [Chelaxian])
Alternative Racial Traits: Pass for Human, Smite Good
Birthplace/Age: Born in Senara, Rova 4690 / 25 Years Old (assuming an AR 4716 start)
Occupation: Former Factotum of Citadel Dinyar; currently a homeless hirling
Class: Bladebound / Kensai Magus (Bastard Sword)
She has never overtly identified with Asmodeus, despite his status as Cheliax's most immediate patron, but is a wholehearted Diabolist, insofar that she believes a proper structure and system to which other people can be held accountable is a necessity for order and security. Salem's feelings on the Infernal Magistrix are as you might expect for a blatant loyalist: she's a fan of Abrogail at the very least, and does occasionally wonder how that Barzillai chap is doing out in Ravounel.
Having lived in Citadel Dinyar for the better part of a decade, Salem is still rather acclimatized to more mountainous regions, and a determination to appear unobtrusive to her peers within the Order has led to a knack for simply not appearing at all. Unfortunately recent events have led to her possessing an outright loathing for the church of Iomedae, the effect of which has had no small impact upon her arcane abilities overall.
Salem's always known a little magic; enough to clean and polish a sword, to clear a room, light a candle...but a hard trip back to Cheliax, mixed with certain poverty and a healthy vat of anger, have led her to channeling her gifts towards increasingly violent ends. Her talent in wielding her sword is one of necessity. The journey from Isger to the Chelish Heartlands proved as long as it was unpleasant, and she's had no small amount of time to devote her focus to the unusual blade in her possession.
Appearance:
Had you met her in better spirits, Salem would stand before you at a formidable 5'11", her spine flat as pressed iron, with rust coloured eyes and a frame fit for the stout armour and uniform of a Hellknight squire. Now she is dark and hunched, her once pristine hair messily tied to reveal still-new scars across her eye, lip and cheek. Peasant clothes and an old, strong bag of goods are oddly lacking in the stains you might expect from one who regularly sleeps rough along Longacre's fringes, but the strangest, most out-of-place object in her possession is that of a large, dark, acid-etched blade wrapped tight in a blanket sheath, belted firm against her back.
Bladebound Sword Details:
Clavisatrox
Taken from the body of a Hellknight Signifier during the raid of Citadel Dinyar, Clavisatrox (The Fierce Key; presumably the sword's name, as etched in Infernal down the flat of the blade) hasn't so much as left Salem's reach since their departure from the fortress, and she clings to the weapon like a boat does its anchor. Made of a dull black steel that seems to consume light, the blade maintains the unique property of somehow making an area seem dimmer simply by its appearance, shining only along the edges and where its title rests. A solid bar of black iron draped in unusually durable crimson cloth serves as a handle, while the square hilt (on very close inspection) is inlaid with all manner of infernal engravings, the most predominant of which depict two-headed snakes.
=====================
Tall, lithe, and purposefully attractive, this dark robed figure appears human except for his snakelike eyes, a pair of devilish horns, and the occasional dart of a forked tongue...
As might be implied, Clavisatrox isn't precisely the weapon's name, but rather a title given to the creature entombed within it. Clavisatrox himself (or simply Clavis, whichever you'd prefer) is a Hespierian, better known as an Accomplice Devil, and so far has spent the majority of his time on Golarion enamored with the thought of being eternally sealed inside a block of steel. Contractually bound to a pro-Thrune knight during the height of the Chelish Civil War, Clavis was slated for release once his wielder's soul had successfully taken its one-way-direct trip into Hell following Abrogail Thrune I's coronation, as per the specific wording of a poorly written agreement.
Needless to say this clause doesn't seem to have ever been triggered. Whether the warrior's soul was ultimately claimed by some other realm, outright destroyed, or if his spirit still wanders the world is anyone's guess; Clavis is ignorant, having apparently passed from one set of hands to the next before Salem's claim to ownership. As an entity Clavis is swave, well-spoken, and incredibly ruthless, to the point that it's a matter of debate as to whom between the two of them is more deserving the title of "Master".
Background:
Salem doesn't need a name to tell her what she is, but it's often the only indicator others ever possess. The Kastelios of Senara have known Tieflings in their blood since long before the Age of Lost Omens, though there are none alive today that know why. Some claim ancient pacts and the tampering of dark magic, but Salem knows little of the specifics; only that the Kastelios are sons and daughters of service, damned to wait upon their clean-blooded betters till the debts of their forbearers is paid in full. Call their name in any Chelish circle north of the Inner Sea and before long you'll find fiendish retainers and chamberlains aplenty; well aware of their place in the world, but determined, and even glad to see it through, loyally following their charges to wherever their duties demand. For some, this is as far as Pezzack, Corentyn, even Egorian—but to Salem, human-skinned and free of the discrimination her family had so long endured, this place was much further than most; across the border to Isger, nestled atop the Aspodell Mountains, entombed within the iron-clad walls of Citadel Dinyar.
Indentured to a young Armiger at seventeen, Salem was as perfect and poised an assistant as you could ever ask for; proud and strong and eager to please, with a self-nurtured gift for the arcane that set her apart from her peers. With her childhood lost to her father's persistent criticism and demands for excellence, Salem found solace in emulating the only picture of Chelish perfection she had ever known: that of a young and battle-ready Iomedae, though her campaigns were set against stained armour and unsharpened blades, not the killing fields of Tar-Baphon. The work proved long and weary, and her chores increasingly demanding as the seasons drove on, but she knew of the horrors the Godclaw contested; knew the malice and chaos, the disorder loose upon the world…but Salem knew her place, and while she felt she would never quite run about in all that armour as they did, nor swing a mace with such force, the Hellknights of Dinyar were as much a family to her as anything, and their cause as honourable to her as Iomedae's own crusades could ever be.
Seven highland winters had come and gone before the Glorious Reclamation laid siege to the Order of the Godclaw. Salem remembers little of the affair but the sound of arrow rain and the corpses of those she had once honoured as lords and kinsmen. At first the Factotum had taken up her own sword, mistaking the assault for some attack by lesser men, but when the gates fell and its assailants arrived clad in Swords of Valor and banners of the Inheritor, wielding powers that could only be divine, she found herself at a loss, the blade slipping clean from her fingers. How could Iomedae sanction such needless violence? What right did they have, what need to murder her comrades could Aroden's successor possibly possess? As the Godclaw sounded their retreat, Dinyar all but lost, Salem scoured the fallen citadel for her master and found him dead, slumped aside the bodies of his charter with a lone, bloodied crusader praying by their side, barking that the people of Cheliax were ignorant, answering to a whore queen, and declaring that an end by Her sword was a better death than none at all. Stricken with grief and a rare, unchecked bout of black, blinding anger, the Tiefling plucked from the hands of a fallen Signifier a cold and wicked sword, calling upon every inch of her fiendish heritage to smite the soldier down before hastily making her escape, abandoning Dinyar, her post, and her faith in Iomedae's church all at once.
Armed with nothing but a stolen blade and the clothes on her back, Salem's journey back into the arms of Cheliax has not been a wholly pleasant affair. With no credibility and an increasingly violent disposition, she today finds herself on the streets of Longacre, the backwater hovel of retirement appearing something of a just reward for her misplaced faith in the Heavens. She would volunteer for the military, give her all to Cheliax and the Infernal Throne, but the Kastelios do not breed soldiers, and instead she serves as something of an everyman for hire, willing to undertake all manner of work so long as her efforts are properly appreciated in kind. Within Longacre itself, Cimiri Staelish does not often find need of Salem's services, but the two are well-acquainted enough to have a mediocre rapport.
Prospective Statblock:
Salem Kastelios
Female tiefling magus (bladebound, kensai) 1 (Pathfinder RPG Bestiary 264, Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Combat 55, Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Magic 9, 47)
LE Medium outsider (native)
Init +5; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +1
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Defense
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AC 16, touch 15, flat-footed 11 (+1 armor, +4 Dex, +1 dodge)
hp 9 (1d8+1)
Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +2
Defensive Abilities canny defense +1; Resist cold 5, electricity 5, fire 5
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee bastard sword +3 (1d10+2/19-20) or
. . dagger +2 (1d4+2/19-20)
Special Attacks arcane pool (+1, 4 points), smite good, spell combat
Magus (Bladebound, Kensai) Spells Prepared (CL 1st; concentration +5)
. . 1st—shield
. . 0 (at will)—acid splash, detect magic
--------------------
Statistics
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Str 14, Dex 18, Con 10, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 8
Base Atk +0; CMB +2; CMD 17
Feats Arcane Strike, Weapon Focus (bastard sword)
Traits arcane temper, ex-iomedaean, highlander (hills or mountains)
Skills Bluff +1, Knowledge (arcana) +7, Knowledge (local) +4, Perception +1, Spellcraft +7, Stealth +11 (+12 in hilly or rocky areas); Racial Modifiers +2 Bluff, +2 Stealth, highlander (hills or mountains)
Languages Common, Draconic, Halfling, Infernal
SQ chosen weapon, pass for human
Other Gear silken ceremonial armor[UC], bastard sword, dagger, bedroll, blanket[APG], candle (5), canteen[UE], chewing stick, comb (0.2 lb), hairbrush (0.3 lb), hemp rope (50 ft.), ink, inkpen, journal[UE], masterwork backpack[APG], mirror, nail file (0.1 lb), peasant's outfit, piton, scissors (0.3 lb), soap, spell component pouch, sponge, tooth powder (0.1 lb), spellbook, whetstone, whiskey (per cup)[UE] (2), 4 gp, 8 sp, 3 cp
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Special Abilities
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Arcane Pool +1 (4/day) (Su) Infuse own power into a held weapon, granting enhancement bonus or selected item powers.
Arcane Strike As a swift action, add +1 damage, +1 per 5 caster levels and your weapons are treated as magic for the purpose of overcoming damage reduction.
Canny Defense +1 (Ex) +INT bonus to AC (max Kensai level).
Chosen Weapon (Bastard sword) Kensai abilities only function when wielding a weapon of this type.
Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white only).
Energy Resistance, Cold (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Cold attacks.
Energy Resistance, Electricity (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Electricity attacks.
Energy Resistance, Fire (5) You have the specified Energy Resistance against Fire attacks.
Pass for Human You can pass for human, and count as a humanoid (human) for all purposes.
Smite Good (1/day) +0 to hit, +1 to damage when used.
Spell Combat (Ex) Use a weapon with one hand at -2 and cast a spell with the other.
I'll get to providing a proper roleplay snippet over the course of the next day or so, but here's more or less what I've got in mind. Critique is welcome from all sources, as I'd rather nip any problems in the bud sooner than later.
All-in-all, thanks to our prospective GM for the opportunity and, no matter who gets chosen, I wish you all the best of luck with the game. Really the applicant standard has so far been truly incredible. I suspect there's going to be quite a lot of high-quality Hells Vengeance PbPs going forward.
I actually build Scions of Humanity pretty often, and though the reasons for it are usually specific to each character, I can separate them pretty cleanly into two groups: Characters that are completely ignorant of their heritage, or blatant liars for whom their appearance is a boon. (I have a rare exception in one character who's backstory entails that she was originally Human, and her transition to Tiefling was quite the artificial affair; but all-in-all such otherworldly natures should always an integral part of character design, and I never make the decision lightly.)
In Rhis's case, it's very much a part of her concept. In fact she's probably the most ignorant PC I've built with regards to her heritage; most others are curious, or at least have an idea. Not Rhis. Rhis is bliiiiiiiiind. Her long-lived nature and lack of real history prior to Sandpoint puts her a bit at odds with reality. Of course she attributes the whole thing to Desna, so her ignorance is really a mix of bliss, disinterest, and not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Welp, consider this my catch-up I suppose. Long day.
As the words and worries of all gathered parties–and indeed Torch itself–tumble ever more from Dolga's lips, Tio found herself half-listening in the most literal sense, her dark and silken hair draping to one side as she leaned to no avail; the bite of the Councillor's voice turning blunt against her ears. The awkward bend at her neck did not last however, as some unseen, foreign command bade her body to move; rising to her feet with a crispness no organic being should possess.
As if the difference between the party's two 'Children of the Stars' was not great enough, to see Tio at her full height is an uncanny thing. Nothing about her seems particularly natural; from the pristine cut of her hair to the gait her footsteps carry as she paces the room, her movements simultaneously smooth and jittery. The scorched and battered coat she wears floats behind, its worn and thoroughly torn edge catching the heels of her boots as she walks. The sleeves are rolled and pinned well above the elbows, revealing long, pale skin–fresh, when compared to more...active members of her species–and a network of markings that sing with lilac heartbeats as she moves.
Though she maintained the forefront of her attention on Dolga's responses–(Vermin; expected. Gremins? Unfamiliar cretins. Scavengers? Darklands? Doors of Glacuite? Tio's face narrows briefly. How unusual.)–the Android did, at least, take a moment to appraise their apparent crew...
Tio's Thoughts:
Stout build. Taut tongue. Lack of immediate familiarity with Torch. Attire not customary to urban environments. Likely an outsider then; Kellid affinity for beasts widespread. A clanswoman? The Android blinks. Remarkable example of native body art; persistent ink, well-integrated with nanite circuitry. Overall marvelous designs. Should ask if the artist is available for commissio... Tio's pacing comes to a brief, almost indistinguishable pause. ...Nanite circuitry? Hmm. A survivor of typical Kellid suspicions? Fascinating.
The quiet one; a tinkerer? She has seen his sort in passing. A name. She feels as though there should be a name there; if not his, then someone else's. She would check her notes, but the Raven at her shoulder pecks at her skull. Clearly this encounter is rigged for her to forget some piece of information; if not a name, a face, then certainly the task at hand, and Rust, at least, understands the priorities there.
Now Thüm...Thüm she doesn't quite know what to make of at all. As much as she would like to empathize with him in the event of what is likely to be, on the balance of probability, a physically draining (if not outright fatal) endeavour, the Arcanist has no such will of her own, to be exacted in the event of a violent or otherwise needless death. Tio wonders for a moment why this is the case, but the answer proves unusually simple: she has not factored in for such a direct method of existential failure, and would prefer not to. Ever.
She soon moves on, catching Arkady as he reaffirms his assistance. Dwarves. Charming allies. Best known for heightened constitution and affinity for labour. Caverns beneath Black Hill likely to require ample degrees of both. That Tio has no proper concept of "Charming" really doesn't seem to bother her.
...And as for the last of their number–a Human, blatantly, and an eight-foot construct-like being, far more advanced in its appearance than anything the lowly Android mechanic has seen in her painfully short life; rather than be flabbergasted, or even marginally impressed, Tio simply stops short of Adrien's companion in the midst of her wandering, staring up at the automation with curved lips and a single nonchalant word: "Excellent."
Of course by this point, Tio is so far gone in her own thoughts that Adrien's words wash over her ears like rain. When she does finally catch his voice, and the conversation proper, the disjunction is sharp, forced, and the Android crashes–quite visibly, given the erratic flicker to her markings–back into the present.
"On the topic of journals, there is...one thing I would like to obtain, given our point of entry," Tio states, wincing slightly as she ponders foremost on what she's been doing out of her seat. A hand pulls back at her coat, revealing a book bound to her thigh; plated with thin sheets of scrap metal and chained to the belt of her britches. "Water-sodden notes are unlikely to be of much assistance by themselves...however–"
And here Rust intrudes, but not with the sound of an animal; his brassy prosthetic hisses a little, before a deep, hollow voice emits from the box nestled at his throat: "Nid yw y llyfr hwn yn agored i drafodaeth."
Hallit:
"This book is not negotiable."
Aaaah, water! My Spellbook's foremost favored enemy, following Fire and Theft.
Welp, well-informed is certainly one way to put it! Tio's just...remarkably unsurprised that you could build something like a laser while Androids, Gearsmen, and tales of great metal beasts in the Numerian Wastelands exist. So we've got an Android that's obsessed by her physical heritage (but trying to figure out where her soul is going), an Android that's empowered by her spiritualism (and is trying to understand where it is she came from), and undoubtedly a smattering of other PC opinions and views that'll coincide between the two. That is...going to make for some very interesting conversations to say the least! :D
Onna wrote:
Just giving feedback on how it seemed. I'd recommend going without the small caps too.
And (constructive) feedback's always appreciated in my house! [also, consider it done~].
Well. Okay then. This could work. Those of you with Spellcraft, might want to hit that up so you can cover your ears. DC 16 iirc.
"Desnnnaaaa..."
Upon seeing that, Rhis promptly gets up from her seat, her hand dragging the piece of furniture in her wake, only vaguely aware that, should anyone intrude her way, she's dangerously likely to beat them with the chair.
On her way to the stage, the Priestess holds tight to the iron crest belted to her front, muttering all the while until she slams her chair against Hemlock's impromptu plinth and uses it to join the guardsman. Without so much as a greeting, she grasps a hand on his shoulder, fingers coated in twilight as her lips usher prayers to the stars. "Drive them to silence."
What follows is a grand, booming sound; like that of a mighty horn, deafening in its volume; but the magic falls from her hands and swarms to Hemlock's throat, where it settles, vanishing from sight. That would be Clarion Call. Hemlock should now be able to speak with such loudness that the whole damn town might hear it.
Her immediate sabotage of The Rusty Dragon's rambling complete, Rhis gives the Sherriff a stiff pat on the back. "I think they'll hear you now. Yeah. Sure."
Not waiting for an answer, she steps off the stage, grabs her chair, drags her way back to her spot at the table and, again, waits for her damn coffee. Patiently. Like a f+*#ing lady.
At Hemlock's bark, Rhis merely holds out a lazy hand towards the cultured sheriff. She would elaborate with a monotone 'ta-dah', but she doesn't feel like wasting her voice to the crowd. In any case, the situation practically speaks for itself, and whether or not she's personally invested no longer matters. No one's schedule is so comically accurate without some measure of divine leverage. Desna is not, perhaps, the most direct patron of the Sandpoint's Pantheon, but Rhis knows her work when she sees it.
Now if Lady Luck would kindly make her coffee appear from the void, as Hemlock had done through The Rusty Dragon's door, the Priestess might be more openly inclined to offering her unconditional service to their apparent cause. For now though, she sighs, draws her dagger back into its sheath, and waits for someone else to figure out what more the sheriff could possibly have to say...
All part of the game, yo! No problems here~ I mean, Rhis is a big girl; Derric's banter hasn't quite gotten past the first post on her 'give-a-damn' list. Apparently bad social habits + genuine concern = cranky old lady Alberuti. The more you know!~
Human Paladin (Oathbound) 2 | HP: 14/17 | AC:15 T:10 FF:15 | F:8 R:4 W:7 [+1 vs evil outsiders] | Smite Evil 1/1 | Lay On Hands 2/5 | Per +1, Init +0 |
Active Conditions:
None!
Yeah, got super lucky. I applied within 12 hours of it being posted and was the only one to full-mark their aptitude test sooo...yeah. Last time I was unemployed, it took half a year. There was a lot of celebration in my house yesterday.
As for your term: YIKES! Yeah, so happy you survived to the holiday because gods its sounds like you need it! :( Wrap yourself in duvets and get all that illness/stress to wind off while it can, yeah?
Human Paladin (Oathbound) 2 | HP: 14/17 | AC:15 T:10 FF:15 | F:8 R:4 W:7 [+1 vs evil outsiders] | Smite Evil 1/1 | Lay On Hands 2/5 | Per +1, Init +0 |
Active Conditions:
None!
Clearly our Bard's Inspire Competence worked, as I got a call this morning and apparently I have a job waiting for me in the new year! A job which is a whole 15 minute walk from my home, pays some ~4k more than that hellhole I was last in, and lets me put my fancy computing degree to work. Literally me. All day. And probably the next two weeks.
"How to pay rentz" panic over, now I can actually enjoy the holidays. Hope everyone's going strong and the weight of academia hasn't quite crushed the life out of you all yet!
Human Paladin (Oathbound) 2 | HP: 14/17 | AC:15 T:10 FF:15 | F:8 R:4 W:7 [+1 vs evil outsiders] | Smite Evil 1/1 | Lay On Hands 2/5 | Per +1, Init +0 |
Active Conditions:
None!
A ton of stores over here have actually "Cancelled" Black Friday. Small mercies, I suppose.
Boxing Day and the January Sales however; those I can live with. "Why yes, I would like to purchase this item for a reduced cost and not get trampled to death in the process by some hag desiring an 80% off designer handbag..."
Human Paladin (Oathbound) 2 | HP: 14/17 | AC:15 T:10 FF:15 | F:8 R:4 W:7 [+1 vs evil outsiders] | Smite Evil 1/1 | Lay On Hands 2/5 | Per +1, Init +0 |
Active Conditions:
None!
But but but---!!! Who will I go to for fashion advice!? How will I know which set of greaves to match with my crimson cloaks of glory?! Whom will I nag for highbrow designs when I finally amass enough gold to commission armours fit for the divine?!?!
Actually, I suppose that last one will still apply...But still! Have you SEEN Gwyn's wardrobe? Of course you haven't; and after getting blasted by a Balor / flattened by a Dragon's corpse, no one ever will :(
Human Paladin (Oathbound) 2 | HP: 14/17 | AC:15 T:10 FF:15 | F:8 R:4 W:7 [+1 vs evil outsiders] | Smite Evil 1/1 | Lay On Hands 2/5 | Per +1, Init +0 |
Active Conditions:
None!
Abri, I told you already: Ice cubes. Back of shirt. Get to it, woman.
Sadron Vaneth wrote:
If I bedazzle the gown and have Sadron stand next to you, will we have a disco party while we march?
Silly Mental Scene:
From atop her mezzanine perch in her player's metaphysical library of characters, Gwyneth sits upright in her chair.
"Hoooohohohokay; this one? This one we keep," she announces. "But...don't have him telling me that he's in the Worldwound to effectively take a perfectly able Commander out of it. That'll..." She frowns. "End...sort of badly."
"But hey, now I've got someone to debate Knowledges with!" She turns back to her tabletop rendition of the current gameboard with hissing glee. "Just need to, y'know. Get them first. Come onnnn Level 3!"
On Mummy's Mask: CURSES. CURSES EVERYWHERE. THEY NEVER STOP.
Honestly Naali if it's crafting you're into, Path Dabbling's 100% the way to do it. It'd be a quick way to get my hands on a Reliquary Cold Iron Longsword, that much's for sure. Gotta make that Divine Symbol bond work somehow!
I'm vying for Legendary Item if that wasn't obvious...and maybe Divine Source...Three times*...Because apparently that's how Iomedae herself did it pre-Starstone according to JJ and I mean IF IT'S GOOD ENOUGH FOR THE INHERITOR WHY NOT ME HUEHUEHUE
*Party gets to pick her domains if/when that crops up though, because I like living dangerously.
Human Paladin (Oathbound) 2 | HP: 14/17 | AC:15 T:10 FF:15 | F:8 R:4 W:7 [+1 vs evil outsiders] | Smite Evil 1/1 | Lay On Hands 2/5 | Per +1, Init +0 |
Active Conditions:
None!
And from one player to another, you'll have to forgive my first thought also being "Who the f%#~ are you?" -- Might want to pop your introductions a bit earlier, since apparently not even She-Who-Has-DM-On-Speed-Dial was kept in that particular loop :P
Not gonna lie, the second was: "Sorcerer, actually. But sure, throw more Charisma in. This is a Charlie's Angels WotR now. You'll need that stat to work the gown I'll be forcing you into a few levels down the line."
Third: Sooo...150 years old...and from Kyonin. Literally older than the Worldwound and from highbrow bigot-elf land. Also, Lightbringer and Darkvision is cheating. Dirty cheating dazzleless Darkvision.
Thought Three-Point-Five: Huh. Silver Balladeer strikes me as a weird choice--but man I'd have loved to have played one in Mummy's Mask! I really need to check out Occult properly at some point.
Fourth: "F@~& you and your Darkvision club. I'm going to carry so many wands of Heightened Daylight that they'll see me marching from f@#+ing Absalom."
Human Paladin (Oathbound) 2 | HP: 14/17 | AC:15 T:10 FF:15 | F:8 R:4 W:7 [+1 vs evil outsiders] | Smite Evil 1/1 | Lay On Hands 2/5 | Per +1, Init +0 |
Active Conditions:
None!
I'm 23 with a mental age of 6; maybe 12 on a good day. Went through the whole system; early education, higher, university, got a high degree in Forensic Computing that's now a very expensive piece of paper in an uninteresting brown envelope on my mantle-piece. I love learning, I actually love tests, but the school system and environment never did me any favors and I was basically 'that one ghost student who never shows up' for three quarters of my time there~
Higher end Art involved way too many essays for my liking and I dropped out of it once they choked the syllabus with avant-garde shenanigans (like seriously, what's wrong with studying good ol' Fine Art?)
Astronomy's always struck me as really cool if you can deal with the math! Not me though; I'm just a scientific romanticist :P Failed my Physics class outright twice for various reasons (not least of which being OH GOD WHO PUT ALL THESE GREEK SYMBOLS IN MY EQUATIONS).
Human Paladin (Oathbound) 2 | HP: 14/17 | AC:15 T:10 FF:15 | F:8 R:4 W:7 [+1 vs evil outsiders] | Smite Evil 1/1 | Lay On Hands 2/5 | Per +1, Init +0 |
Active Conditions:
None!
SO MAJESTIC.
I've used vectors before for blueprinting and chart designs for substantially less fun purposes; Photoshop's not too bad once you unlearn how to draw (SO EASY I KNOW) and Illustrator's...Illustrator. Me and it have bad blood (crashed and left me with corrupted files two days before end of year presentation. AWESOME.)
I miss the pure power of a full Photoshop package, but for silly things like this inkscape's fine~
Also, Naali's dice are hax. I demand she share for the good of the Iomedaean Empire team.
Human Paladin (Oathbound) 2 | HP: 14/17 | AC:15 T:10 FF:15 | F:8 R:4 W:7 [+1 vs evil outsiders] | Smite Evil 1/1 | Lay On Hands 2/5 | Per +1, Init +0 |
Active Conditions:
None!
Abrielle wrote:
Kunai are better. They are a light weapon (bludgeoning and piercing iirc) so no improvisation penalty, work as both a piton and a crowbar without damaging the weapon as well.
Mechanically I entirely agree, but there's a certain hilarity to emulating the Joker in times of great crisis.
Human Paladin (Oathbound) 2 | HP: 14/17 | AC:15 T:10 FF:15 | F:8 R:4 W:7 [+1 vs evil outsiders] | Smite Evil 1/1 | Lay On Hands 2/5 | Per +1, Init +0 |
Active Conditions:
None!
GO LIZARD GO!
Tall. Proud. Attentive and bright. Dressed in traditional robes of white, red and gold as they make to prepare for the more sacred and ceremonial aspects of the week's festivities, these are the qualities of St. Clydwell's finest. Qualities that Private Koschei--tussle-haired, armed, and lazily draped over a plaza bench--is only barely managing to present.
To her credit, Gwyneth's Armasse had not exactly started on a high note. The yeoman's left side had seen fit to spasm as she dreamed, the old scars throbbing like fresh wounds rolled in salt, stopping only after she'd fallen square out of her bunk and cracked her head on the garrison floor. Gwyneth's first prayers to Iomedae this morning were certainly...colourful, to say the least.
'Hnnn...No, definitely not my proudest moment,' she admits, a scale-mail gauntlet rising from her sword hilt to disguise a yawn. Technically her patrol shift wasn't due to start until the sermons, but the Paladin took great pleasure in seeing the too-often grim city of Kenabres in rare form. A positive one, so full of promise; a glimpse into what this place should have been; with the sound of children, joyous peddlers, and the resolute march of Crusaders whose only difficult choice that day would be whether or not to take that pretty redhead to dinner.
Her yawn finished, Gwyneth rubs off the last of her tiredness, foreign rays of warm sunlight burning in her eyes; halos of something more divine than mortal taking command of her sight--flooding the world with marbled shades of white and grey. Detect Evil, now with added fluff!
Getting the hint, and accepting that she's hardly of much use to the Inheritor as a bench-warmer, Gwyn dismisses the divination, pushing off her knees and rising to her full height, right arm lifting her own pack of supplies up from beside her. As she turns to consider her chances at the "Dragon" races (choking back her amusement as she wonders what Kenabres's resident dragon must think of that)--
*THUNK*
The shadeless crusader lets out a silent yelp as something connects sharply with the tender bruise at the back of her skull. Looking back across the crowds, Gwyneth barely registers the beanbag and its owner as he comes to collect--she's far more concerned about the free-standing glaive that seems to be...swinging? Floating?
With a groan and her good arm properly shouldering her gear, Gwyneth makes to push through the crowds, finding the glaive's wielder not to be an overenthusiastic Sheylnite or some manner of rogue and/or intoxicated templar--but an over-encumbered Tiefling carrying way too much f@**ing stuff and attempting to throw...beanbags.
Because of course she is.
Gwyn's brief sigh rings of silver and relief.
"Hey, Miss?" she calls, her voice taking on an authoritative tone as her eyes track the edge of Naali's lofted blade. "Can I give you a hand? Preferably before you cut off someone else's?"
~ oathbound chosen one sacred servant paladin (female human)
Hourai's Silly Spiel:
Gwyn snaps the lid of her marker pen back into place after properly amending her descriptor. "...What? Do I look like I need a fluffy bunny mentor?"
Of course the answer is yes. Because Gwyn would love to own a bunny. She would hug it and feed it and buy it pretty symbols of Iomedae and then maybe take it out to dinner and...
Wait. Wait, Gwyn--are we talking about the same thing?
"Sure?" She proceeds to pull out her September edition of Shelyn's Secret, as if the pages somehow speak for themselves.
ಠ_ಠ
"Oy. I'm 'Off duty', remember?"
ಠ_ಠ
Knowing the better of picking an argument with her creator, Yeoman Koschei marches back to her seat by the character vault fireplace.
This is why you can't have nice things.
A warm glass of spiced wine materializes in the crusader's hand as she settles in with her so-called literature. "Paladin paladon't care."
Alright, alright, enough jokes; real life work calls! Good luck everyone! d(・▽・)b ~ Hourai
Wow. No kidding; Guardian's quite the popular path. Well, I can tinker around and swap Gwyn to a full Stolen Fury Champion if Rat'd prefer. Don't want to be stepping on anyone's toes or anything.
Oh, and congrats to Mimesyne on finishing her pick. Never seen a Purifier pulled off with any wallop...but then I've never seen one played in a campaign crammed full of Evil Outsiders, so what do I know? I'm sure you'll have great fun with it. Please take your obligatory +1 for Glorious Iomedaean Bromance.
Henceforth, I'd actually really prefer it if everyone shortened their backstories down to the aforementioned length of two paragraphs. You can keep the longer ones, of course, but give me a synopsis of what it entails. One of the hallmarks of being a good writer is the ability to write shorter as well as longer entries.
Done and done. You can find the short version attached to this profile buuuut I'll save you a button click :P
Background, the Short Edition:
The daughter of abyssal insurgents, Gwyn's parents were executed for their crimes when she was a very young child. Taken in by the Iomedaean clergy, and constantly surrounded by news of dying soldiers from the frontline, she grew up with an intense hatred for the Worldwound, culminating in an attempt to sneak aboard a patrol caravan set for the border during her adolescence. Though she received something of a divine warning not to do the same - a pilfered sword whose edge dulled and twisted with every step she took from home - Gwyn remained ignorant and determined, hereby sealing her fate.
En route to the Sarkoran border, she and the paladin patrol were practically destroyed; ambushed by a demon of unknown origin. Though some of the patrol survived to return to Kenabres, their child stowaway had been rendered comatose, awaking weeks later only to find her left side ruined, a stubborn sword glued to her fist, and her shadow long since lost. Knowing that it had been a miracle she had survived, and that the Inheritor had seen fit to spare her despite her ignorance, Gwyn swore to give her everything to Iomedae in return. Years of study, rehabilitation, and a borderline inhuman constitution have since helped forge her into the devout servant she now is. This year's Armasse signifies one full year as a Paladin in the Inheritor's Legion.
Mimesyne wrote:
Hello. Girlfriend here.
Eeeeh we've all been there! I just remember reading the Kenabres gazetteer a while back and putting on my big fat "Iomedae's #1 Fan" hat ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
