About Jonas Hearth
14 17 7 18 6 11
HP: 25 (10
AC 14 [Chain Shirt]
+5 Fort (+2 class, +2 con)
+1 Ref (+0 class)
+6 Will (+2 class, +3 wis)
Crossbow: +3, 1d8, 19-20/x2
15 total ranks
[2 war priest + 1 int +2 background* x level]
+6 Knowledge Engineering (1 ranks, +3 class, +1 int)
Feats, Traits and Drawbacks:
Fate's Favored: Whenever you are under the effect of a luck bonus of any kind, that bonus increases by 1.
Overprotective: If one of your allies should fall unconscious from hit point damage, you take a –2 penalty on attack rolls and skill checks as long as you are farther than 10 feet away from your fallen ally.
Aura (Ex) A warpriest of a chaotic, evil, good, or lawful deity has a particularly powerful aura (as a cleric) corresponding to the deity's alignment (see detect evil). Caine's Aura is Lawful and Good.
Blessings (Su) A warpriest can call upon the power of his blessings a number of times per day (in any combination) equal to 3 + 1/2 his warpriest level (to a maximum of 13 times per day at 20th level). Each time he calls upon any one of his blessings, it counts against his daily limit. The save DC for these blessings is equal to 10 + 1/2 the warpriest's level + the warpriest's Wisdom modifier.
Favored Class Bonuses
1) 1/6 bonus combat feat
DC 10 + 1/2 Level + Wisdom
Orisons (4 per day, at will)
1st level (3 per day, +1 bonus)
In pouches/on belt:
Heavy metal stein
In Masterwork Backpack:
Caine is a large man, proportioned like a sculptor's dream. He stands a few inches over six feet with broad shoulders and a trim waist. When he stands up straight he gives off a strong aura of nobility. When he shaves and takes time to clean up he looks like a legend made flesh. Unfortunately, time has not been kind. These days he mostly stoops, and shaving and bathing are rather infrequent. His clothes are simple. Undyed cloth patched a few times, stained where blood and booze failed to completely come clean. His head is shaved, but has a week or so with of sandpapery stubble covers his scalp and jaw. His eyes are vivid blue and once were full of zeal. Now they are lined and aimed mostly into his cup. He spends most of his time in varying states of intoxication, looking and smelling like the end of a hard day.
Greyson Caine was born under a sign of great religious significance to the church of Abadar. He was raised to be a symbol of the churches power, destined and trained to be a great leader among the Lawbringers. He was called the Justicar, and his banner was meant to inspire. It did not matter that he was young, barely more than a boy when he first donned the armor of the Justicar, it was all propaganda anyway. He was more of a symbol than a person.
The problem was, Greyson believed it. He believed it all. He was humble, devoted, willing to die to bring just law to a downtrodden people. He fought. He killed. He bled. All for what he thought was right and true.
The problem was they taught him just a little too well. It took him a while to realize that things weren't adding up. The poor, the very people he was trying to help, saw *him* as the tyrant, and he just could not stomach it. He had to know why they hated the church so much. So he questioned them. Hard.
He was never satisfied with the answers, because they always told him what he didn't want to hear. "The church lies." "The law only protects those who already have power." "The guilds and banks are full of monsters." "The laws are unjust."
It made no sense. The laws were how justice was defined. They created order. How could the very people they were supposed to protect be against them? Why would they cling to lies with their necks in the noose, they were going to die anyway. And so many of them.
He started to question. He started to pry. It was not until he found the Deacon burning documents proving the innocence of a large number of political prisoners who had accused the Archbishop of usury, extortion, money laundering, and even outright slavery that it all clicked into place for him.
He was never a bringer of lawful order. He was a bringer of legal tyranny.
His entire world had been upside down.
The Deacon died by his hand and the papers exonerating the prisoners ended up in the hands of the groups Greyson had once fought against, but Greyson simply left. He turned his back on the church, and on his god. The divine power faded from him and for the first time in his life he was just a man.
A short time later, on the edge of a lawless frontier town called Falcon's Hollow in a brothel reputed for bloodshed, a haggard drunk wandered in and stayed. The worst of the local rabble learned to avoid the place, and the rest learned to behave. On the occasions where a girl got roughed up, the drunk roughed right back and showed a surprising skill as a healer afterward. Seeing that the brothel's new reputation was attracting a better kind of customer, and that the girls were happier and safer, the owner tried to pay the drunk, but all money was refused. So they fed him and let him drink, on the house, and let him use the baths. They even made him new clothes. He took care of them, and they took care of him. The brothel prospered. The drunk never talked about his past and they learned not to ask. He was just Caine. He took care of the girls they took care of him. He even helped them add a second story with a small room of his own when the town began to expand after when the Lumber Consortium moved in to harvest the bounty of the nearby Vale.
Now though, the town is getting rougher and rougher, and Caine the Drunk has been getting worse and worse. When he is mostly sober he is quiet and brooding. When he gets drunk enough he goes on tirades about the unfairness of the law and the fact that the Consortium's workers are really just slaves. He talks about organizing. Labor unions. Worker's rights. Fair wages. He hints at an idealism and a zeal that none would have suspected of him, but mostly he just makes people worried. In a town full of people desperate for work, his ideas border on heresy.