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Only one person submitted an arcane user (the witch), there are a couple of clerics to choose from, a few frontliners, and a plethora of investigators. I might not get the to the final decision until next week. Jethryk is literally a Sorcerer :-P I think there are more arcane casters than you realise ;-)
As someone who rolled a 20 point buy, I would have no objections with either setting the point buy to 25, or sorting out some other sort of 'adjustment'. That said, I am obviously biased ;-)
Here is Luke_Parry's application - Jethryk Devarre, a NG Half-Elf Tattooed Sorcerer, with the Harrow bloodline :-)
Alright, well, I will throw Jethryk Devarre, Half-Elf Wizard 2, into the ring for consideration :-) He definitely has quite a few Int-based skills covered, and a little bit of healing ;-)
Alrighty then! I would like to present Jethryk Devarre, LN Human** Monk(Zen Archer) 1 for consideration :-) Appearance:
Jethryk is a weathered man with prematurely-greying hair and a slightly wild goatee, dressed in equally worn (but well cared for) travelling leathers. He has piercing blue eyes that, when the light catches them *just so*, glitter with flecks of gold.
Background:
Jethryk comes from a family that is both blessed, and cursed, with draconic blood. Numerous ancestors have been powerful draconic sorcerers, dragon disciples, or even (in a pinch) bloodragers; however, Jethryk was not so blessed.
True, he did still have the indelible mark of his draconic ancestor upon his body - a goldish tint to his hair, and metallic flecks in his eyes that glittered when his emotions were particularly high. However, he completely failed to have *any* aptitude for stoking, shaping, or calling out the draconic power that (allegedly) slumbered within his veins. Still, despite that, his parents were not heartless beings - he might not have been able to carry on the family tradition, as it were, but he was still their *son*. Thus, they called in a favor with one of their old adventuring friends, a Cleric of Irori who now ran a small monastery, and had Jethryk enrolled there as a novice. Their hope was that a period of asceticism and meditation would help to catalyze *something* within him, but even if it did not, the life of a monk would not be a bad one. Try as he might, Jethryk never awakened *any* draconic power, but he did find the teachings of the monastery helpful; they introduced a measure of calm into his life, helping him to quieten the storms raging in his heart; for whilst he had never admitted it to his parents, he always felt like a defective failure for being able to follow in their footsteps. Serendipitously, he discovered that he had some skill with the bow, and in addition to absorbing Iroran teachings about self-actualization, he became quite adept at not only wielding bows, but making them himself - the rationale of the monastery being that an archer can only truly understand a weapon that he has created himself. When he eventually completed his training, Jethryk went on a journey to see the world, and to discover his place in it, as he sought self-perfection. Sometimes, he would explore the wilderness by himself, relying upon hunting and foraging to meet his needs; at others (when spices and other necessities of life ran low), he would sign-on with merchant caravans as a guard in order to make some coin. When Gribb's smuggling scheme came to light, Jethryk was utterly mortified. He cooperated fully with the local watch, perfectly willing to tell them everything he knew (not that it was much). Now, he is weighing his options - true, he could just head off into the wilderness again, but it would be lacking in comfort; Gribb still had not paid him, after all, and he had not had the chance to make any of the purchases that he had hoped to, upon arrival in Yanmass...
**Some minor variations may apply.
I can't resist submitting a PC for this :-) LG Male Human Alchemist(Internal Alchemist/Vivisectionist) / Paladin(Tortured Crusader) 4 Appearance:
Jethryk is a tall, hulking man with prematurely grey hair, a scarred face, and a slightly unhinged, thousand-yard stare in his eyes.
He has the aura of a man who has seen too much, and despite being immune to fear, that knowledge haunts him. Clad in well-worn full plate, with an enormous, wicked-looking axe strapped to his back, he looks perfectly capable to taking apart any foe that he stumbles across.
Background: For someone who grew up in Ustalav, Jethryk had a surprisingly happy upbringing - his father was a bard, part of a traveling circus troupe, and his mother was one of the guards. Both were semi-retired adventurers, who had decided that delving ruins was not a healthy way to raise a family.
Although Jethryk was an only child, he had plenty of 'uncles', 'aunts', and 'cousins' who looked out for him within the troupe. Jethryk was not himself skilled at performance arts, but he had a great deal of respect for them, sufficient that when he came of age, he dedicated himself to the faith of Shelyn, eventually becoming a paladin. Inspired by the example of his parents, he joined up with a group of other teens from the troupe, forming a party, and they went off to have some adventures! At first, they had some moderate successes, and even started to make a name for themselves... but that is when things went horribly, tragically wrong. Whilst investigating the depths of Carrion Hill, they came across the remnants of a cult that was attempting to call up an avatar of a nameless power... and they managed to stop them, albeit at a ruinous cost. None of them died... at least at first. All of them were infected with something from beyond our three dimensional reality, that slowly twisted them, both in mind and body, turning them into something else entirely. Jethryk, with his immunity to disease, was the only one not to fall into a downward spiral of corruption and madness... at least superficially. Seeing what happened to his friends and companions, hearing them beg for death... and then having to put down the things that they had become... all of that broke Jethryk on a fundamental level. If it had not been for the intervention of the Professor, Jethryk would have likely slipped into a downward spiral of despair, that ended with his death. As it was, Jethryk experienced a crisis of faith, falling into a deep depression, completely losing his faith in Shelyn. Instead a different power answered the prayers that he threw out into the abyss of the planes... The Waiting Void. Listening to whispers from the Voice of Stillness, Jethryk learned to harness the mutagenic power of the preternatural force that he had been infected with, delving into alchemy, and using his own blood as a catalyst for wonderful things. After all, the world is doomed to decay into unending darkness, as the overwhelming evil contained within it overwhelms the few points of light that remain... However, whilst fighting against it is ultimately doomed to failure, that does not mean that the struggle is worthless. Those who struggle, no matter how futilely it is from the perspective of the universe, are still alive, after all, and Jethryk does not wish to die... since as long as he remains alive, the memories of his lost friends remain alive as well.
"I think we can agree to those terms." Merisiel then waits patiently for the dwarf to follow through on his agreement.
Merisiel raises an eyebrow. "That seems awfully pugnacious for someone with such a sizable gambling debt. If you would rather end up dead in a ditch, though, we will happily take our giant spider poison and silk sacks elsewhere..."
"I agree... Mr Ninefingers sounds like he would be the most.... motivated buyer. Let's try him."
Remembering that Ulisha was dissatisfied with her existing contact, Merisiel wracks her brain, trying to recall which of her contacts would be likely to want what the party has just acquired...
Dagger in hand, Merisiel does her best to harvest what she needs from both spiders.
Merisiel moves to inspect the corpses.
Merisiel keeps stabbing at the injured spider, whistling a jaunty tune!
"It looks like we are in a bit of a sticky situation..." Merisiel tumbles around to a flanking position, and stabs!
Merisiel cautiously moves forward, dagger in one hand, and rapier in the other.
"Sounds like an interesting place! Let's go hunting..."
Merisiel tosses another dagger at the flatfooted woman she already hit.
"Unless of course you want to have a messy and ignominious end, in which case we will be happy to oblige..."
"Yeah, no... We know how things work around here. My counter-offer is this: Drop your weapons, and your valuables, and we won't turn you into crow-food." So saying, Merisiel tosses a dagger in the woman's face.
Merisiel nods. "I've heard that might makes right in Numeria, so shows of force may be required. Skymetals like adamantine are also quite prevalent in the area." She then grins. "Let's go see what is at the crash site!"
Merisiel dashes forward, ready to stab a guard.
Unable to break free of the crush, Merisiel instead attempts to cartwheel over the top of the group surrounding her, and then make a mad dash for it...
...putting a bit of distance between her and the crowd, she then ducks down a side alley, and attempts to hide...
...quickly stealing a shawl from a washing line, and ducking behind a cart.
Merisiel dodges between several villagers, then lithely rolls between a few more, all the while keeping her eyes intently upon the fleeing 'cleric'.
Unfortunately, the sheer press of bodies means that she doesn't make any headway.
Merisiel frowns. "This all seems highly irregular. I say we have a rather pointed 'chat' with the man, as soon as he puts in an appearance."
Merisiel shares what she knows with the others. "Worship of Razmir began in the River Kingdoms, where it spread quickly and led to the creation of a theocracy. Allenstead has always resisted conversion despite being on the very edge of Razmiri territory. Razmir is known as the Living God, a man who claims to have ascended to divinity by completing the Test of the Starstone. His faithful preach law, luxury, and obedience." She then frowns. "That statue of Razmir is troubling, considering the town's rabidly anti-Razmir stance; something drastic must have changed, and quite recently, too..." Merisiel moves forward to look around.
Merisiel gives the tiny creature a burial on the island in the middle of the stream (by placing a few boulders over it in a rough cairn), and then turns to the others. "Right then - shall we be on our way?"
"Tsk, tsk, little one!" Merisiel wags a finger at the little creature, then moves forward to stab it.
Merisiel does her best to move the boulders.
Merisiel nods. "Fair enough. I'll check the rocks over in the river." She then moves to do exactly that.
Merisiel wrinkles her nose. "Eww! Erasmus, if you were that hungry, why didn't you say something earlier..."
Merisiel wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Ugh. This place stinks of raw meat!"
"That looks suitably ominous!" Merisiel conducts a quick search of the area, although she is careful to avoid stepping inside the circle of standing stones.
Merisiel nods vigorously. "Haunted spots usually have an interesting history... which usually translates to the availability of some interesting loot!"
Merisiel wrinkles her nose... Fairly amateurish job... ...but keeps silent, for the moment.
Not needing to be asked twice, Merisiel moves to grab the tapestry, and escape as quietly as possible.
At the formal admission of guilt, Merisiel brightens considerably. "Ah, well, in that case:", she clears her throat, "We are formally performing a citizen's arrest. Try not to resist too much..." She then shanks the woman!
"Agreed. I once came across a painting of Sarenrae and a succubus, which was worth a pretty penny..."
Merisiel chips in: "If you would like it to disappear permanently, we would be happy to help with that..."
Merisiel shrugs. "I can give it a shot..."
Merisiel looks on with interest as the woman attempts to break the gate down. "Anyone have a crowbar, or a portable battering ram...?"
Merisiel grins in appreciation of Kyra's quick-thinking. "Excellent work - we'll make a Rogue out of you, yet!"
Merisiel gives the woman a long look. "That sounded awfully like a confession..."
With a shrug, Merisiel cautiously enters the graveyard, and inspects the body.
Suspecting an ambush, Merisiel cautiously slinks forward, and inspects the gates...
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