Joshua Grayson's page

Dawnflower Dervish are trained in the use of the Perform skill, especially dance, to create magical effects on himself. This works like bardic performance, except that the performances grant double their normal bonuses, but these bonuses only affect him. He does not need to be able to see or hear his own performance. Battle dancing is treated as bardic performance for the purposes of feats, abilities, and effects that affect bardic performance, except that battle dancing does not benefit from the Lingering Performance feat or any other ability that allows a bardic performance to grant bonuses after it has ended. The benefits of battle dancing apply only when the bard is wearing light or no armor. Like bardic performance, battle dancing cannot be maintained at the same time as other performance abilities.

Starting a battle dance is a move action, but it can be maintained each round as a free action. Changing a battle dance from one effect to another requires the dervish to stop the previous performance and start the new one as a move action. Like a bard, a dervish of dawn's performance ends immediately if he is killed, paralyzed, stunned, knocked unconscious, or otherwise prevented from taking a free action each round. A dervish of dawn cannot perform more than one battle dance at a time.

At 10th level, the dervish can start a battle dance as a swift action instead of a move action.

When a dervish of dawn uses the inspire courage, inspire greatness, or inspire heroics bardic performance types as battle dances, these performance types only provide benefit to the dervish himself. All other types of bardic performance work normally (affecting the bard and his allies, or the bard’s enemies, as appropriate).

'Exotic. That's what they called my mother. She fetched a high price at the auction because she was exotic. The noble that bought her loved exotic slaves. 'Pets' he sometimes called them, as if his reasons for buying them weren't sick enough. But despite all this, that wasn't the word I would use for my mother. Despite the cruelty of my birth and the truth of my heritage, the word that always came to mind was... Strength. In her darkest days, she never let her fire waver. She even claimed that my birth gave her hope, though how I never really guessed. And despite being a slave, despite having been... taken from her world and her home, she never lost faith. She passed it on to me, actually, and though I've since learned to question the goddess she prayed t,o I cannot help but love what my mother spent her life in devotion to. Sarenrae, I worship thee. Please... help me make my mothers strength mean more in this world then the fact that she... that we are exotic.'

-A prayer, spoken at dawn on the day of his mothers passing

Joshua's story is not unheard of in Cheliax or even in Westcrown, though it does have a few twists. His mother was a salve from a far off land captured by raiders. She was bought by his father, a noble of Cheliax with 'exotic' tastes. The resulting union was Joshua, a lad with deep skin like his mothers and black hair like his fathers. And golden yellow eyes that reflected light like that of a cats.

He grew up the child of a slave, not a slave himself but certainly not a person in the eyes of true Cheliax citizens. His youth was oft spent alone when his mother was working, avoiding trouble and notice. It was really the only safe way in Westcrown. Cheliax was a nation that admired strength and power. If you had it, the law bent to you, rather then the other way around. So the children of nobles could get away with many cruel things, such as trying to set his tail on fire with magic, or trying to stone him because they were bored.

Better to hide in the shadows and not be seen to begin with. Easier too, for Joshua, who found he had a natural skill for skulking. For the longest time he didn't understand why though. His mother was too kind to say, other then that he was different, and though he was clever he could never understand how something he couldn't change could so drastically change what people saw in him.

He would not find out, either, not until the day he met his father. For the most part, Joshua spent his nights with his mother in the slave quarters of the Dertoyo House, a once grand noble family that had fallen from power with the times. The days were spent out and about in the city, watching and learning, sometimes trying to reach out to children and other times simply enjoying their games from the shadows. But on his tenth birthday, his father summoned him to his lab. Joshua was terrified and his mothers worried gaze did little to settle his fears.

Armand was waiting. His father was the first thing Joshua saw despite the splender of the room. tall, taller then any man Joshua had seen before at 6'6. Long black hair so much like his own. And blue eyes, crystal clear like water. Cold like ice. Those eyes watched as the young lad ventured toward a chair clearly prepared for him. And then the doors shut.

When they opened again that night Joshua was bruised, cut, burnt, fur was missing from his tail and legs, and one of his pawed feet was missing its claw. Indifferent to his sons pain, Armand had spent the day running tests on his son to determine what exactly he was. The man had been relentless, merciless, and when he finally had his answer he rewarded Joshua with one of his own. The truth.

'Your mother was from a distant land. There, it is not devils, but a different sort of creature that tempts mortals. Rakshasa. Beasts with the cunning of man. Even devils are wary of such creatures and the lengths they will go to, the intelligence they cary. You are cursed with their evil, a mistake not of my doing, but of a distant ancestor in your past. My only failure was not to guard my powers when I concieved you, for it awoke this... besital nature. You are lucky most of it can be hidden, or I would have had you slain at birth. Now go and be thankful that you have proved useful to my studies. Be thankful I spared your life yet again.'

His mother could not comfort him or console him. That his father, a man he knew should have loved and cared for him, saw him as nothing but an insect to be studied and forgotten... It hurt worse then the burns and scars he had earned. As he lay there, ready to fall into blissful unconsciousness, a warmth spread over his injured form. His eyes shot open, the golden color immediately reflecting the golden light of the flames that danced over his skin. He shot to his feet, but even then he felt no pain. If anything, there was a... comfort to the warmth. The injuries he had faded and when the fire finally fled from his body minutes later Joshua turned to his mother who stood over him. Her hands were clasped over a symbol, small and wooden, crudely cut by her own hand. He recognized it as something she had been making for years, slowly.

And then his mother embraced him. And cried. And told him a truth that his father had not, and probably could not, for it was a truth that he did not understand. Joshua was loved. And no one would ever change that. From that day forward, Cara, Joshua's mother, taught him of his heritage. Not of the bestial Rakshasa, though she taught him fables of them too, but of the Kelish people and particularly of the village she had grown up on. Learning of where he was from made him want to see this world she spoke of, where the sun beat down, the sands were seas and the fire was in so many hearts. And of the goddess she worshiped.

Cara, no longer caring for what would befall her for doing so, raised her son to understand and worship Sarenrae, the goddess who brought light to the darkest reaches of the world. She did so in secret, at night in their quarters. She taught him to pray, and when his arcane talent manifested, she taught him to heal with magic though she knew only a little herself. And when he grew old enough, she began to teach him to dance. The last seemed almost silly when she first spoke, but then she showed him a long, curved wooden sword, and then a second. Two pieces she had carved, much like her holy symbol, out of wood. The dance was beautiful. And it was deadly. And as he got older, Joshua became more skilled in its use, learning to weave the wooden blade in a graceful pattern that with more lethal intent could prove deadly. She taught him this so that he could defend himself, but the more he learned of Sarenrae, the more he realized that there was another purpose to such a dance. To protect others.

Since her death, Joshua has felt little need to return to his fathers home or the servants quarters there in. He had, as a child, worked along side his mother at times when he could be found. Now, instead, he makes a simple living dancing in the streets to entertain others or picking the pockets of nobles who he feels have it coming. Armand approved of Joshua's decision to put distance between them. The man had little desire to see his son, or be involved, or even know of his existence. The only times Joshua was ever called on by Armand was for rare times when he needed regeants or to test a theory. Unfortunately this need hasn't ended with his mothers passing. Joshua has been called back twice more since, returning to his fathers study and that chair and leaving bruised and bloodied. He couldn't say why he came when beckoned. Fear perhaps. Or an understanding that, the day he didn't answer, his father would likely have him killed.

By day he plays a tune, dances or tells stories. He is a 'foreigner' despite having been born in Cheliax, despite having grown up watching the children that now as adults dropped coins into his cup play, an exotic that earns attention less because of his skill and more because of his skin color and 'act'. But by night he tries to do good, to find meaning in being born in such a dark place. With his skills with magic, inherited from his father, let him heal the injured he finds. And with his skills with a blade, passed down from his mother, he tries to protect those who can't protect themselves.

To those in need, that jingle of the ornaments on his cloak is a godsend. To the thieves and crooks and savage that would take advantage of the weak, it's a warning. He has to be careful of course. Getting caught or too entangled means earning the ire of his father. But he does what good he can in this hellish city, because though he despises it, though he longs to leave; Sarenrae was the goddess of redemption. Her teachings, the teachings that had let his mother keep her heart for so long, bid him... Do better. Be better. Help those in need, even the ones with tainted souls.

But something new has come. Or perhaps something old. He hears talk in his favorite haunts of a Council thought destroyed, working its way into the shadows once more. At first he was worried they were simply another gang he might have to contest with but the more he has learned, the more he wishes to join their cause and better this cruel city.

Standing at 6'2, and weighing 190, Joshua is a rather thin and tall individual. One would think that was enough to make him stand out but it seems the gods disagree. They gave him his mothers rich bronze skin, his fathers soft black hair, and an ancestors golden eyes that shine in the dark.

He is a tiefling of an unusual kind and that means he has some unusual features. Aside from the golden eyes, he has a long tiger like tail, striped black and gold. More often then not it's curled around his waist looking like a very fancy and fine belt. His lower half is also often hidden in heavy, baggier clothing with long boots to hide the fact that it is not what it seems.

His ankles are higher, making his legs appear to be backward in a fashion that would seem painful to those not born with it. His legs are covered in fur matching his tail, and rather then feet he has paws at the end with claws. Learning how to walk in boots has always been a trouble for Joshua, so he revels in the nights where he can kick them off and move with the feline grace that comes so naturally to him. When he doesn't feel like hiding them so properly his large cloak and baggy clothes serve to disguise the irregular shape of his legs.

To distract from his nature and his tendency to pick pockets, Joshua wears gaudy clothing he purchased in the market. It is in the fashion of his mothers homeland, but it is the kind of imitation that is more myth then truth. Joshua plays up his dark skin and eerie eyes to earn more attention while he's dancing. And at night he lets his fancy clothing and heavy, ornamented cloak distract from the silent blade hidden in the many folds of cloth.

Grayson. It is a name that means Son of Gray. In a world such as the nobles courts, it means Son of Nothing. It is an insult, one that tells all who hear it when you introduce yourself as Grayson that you are a bastard. Joshua wears this name openly, but in private, in his heart, he calls himself Joshua Al'varesh. Son of the Sun, in his mothers native language.

She is the only tiefling that Joshua has met who did not instantly hate him or look down on him. Perhaps this is because her infernal heritage is even more prominent then his own, with dark red skin, a long pointed tail and horns that curl back over her head. Or perhaps it was because when they first met, Joshua was stopping her from stealing.

She led him on a merry chase through Westcrown in the middle of the night, a chase most couldn't even see with the darkness and shadows that hung heavy on the city, and when it finally ended with a tumbling crash into an ally way the two were too tired to do anything more then laugh.

Jessica gave her name, or at least her first name, and explained the truth in breathless gasps. She stole from a noble that had stolen from some slaves, in the hopes of prolonging their indentured lives. It was a common enough practice in the city, she said, and she planned on changing it one fat noble purse at a time.

Joshua met her only recently but twice now she has helped him find and help someone in need. The first was a guard being 'bribed' and pressured by a noble to commit a horrid act. Joshua and Jessica were able to help the one he was meant to kill escape, and thus save both the target and the guard. The second was a child that lay dying. Joshua's healing saved the small girl, but it was Jessica would had stabilized the child and found Joshua.

It was Jessica who pointed out the rumors to, though she refuses to be a part of such a large group, proffering to remain just a rumor herself.

At 5'5, Jessica appears far more dangerous then she claims she is. Her skin is a deep crimson, her eyes are a glow with the same, her teeth are pointed and she has a tail with an arrowhead at the end that's as long as one of her legs. She prefers not to be seen at all, but when she is she wears leather armor and knives. Lots and lots of knives.

He is a washed up actor, too old, too scarred and to drunk to reclaim his 'rightful place' on stage. Joshua met him one night after saving the drunks ass from a few loan sharks and since then Fredrick has claimed Joshua is his good friend. The truth is a little less cheerful, but following the teachings of his goddess, Joshua tries to help Fredrick move on from his glory days and his drinking and become a better man.

Not to mention whenever Fredrick is lost on how to proceed with something, Fredrick always knows someone who can help. He never says how, and his price is not to mention him at all when approaching. Somehow this washed up actor knows a lot of people who know things. Gang members, guards, or even merchants who like to keep their ears open.

More often then not Fredrick likes to drink and tell tall tales of his youth. They often involve fighting crooks, criminals and rotten nobles; or better yet demons and devils! And always there is a damsel that he saved. It's hard to really distinguish any truth from his bald faced lies. Joshua humors him, by and large, and for the longest time he let the man prattle on only paying half a mind. But one night changed that.

Drunker then normal Fredrick started talking about a fire. The story was already odd, in that the man hadn't actually started off with how amazing he was. The fire was an accident he said. Not caused by monster or malicious man, but a simple fallen candle. And inside was a woman and her child. Fredrick showed his hands, badly scarred by burns, as he tells about tearing down the door and saving them.

Curious, Joshua asked around, and found some people who had heard about the fire Fredrick had spoken of. But they say that the woman and child died inside, and the one who tried to save them was horribly injured. When pressed, they claimed it had been a blonde noble of some sort, not a drunken actor with brown hair. Since, the tiefling has paid closer attention to Fredricks stories, hoping to hear more truth amongst all the lies.

The man is a powerful noble with political machinations. He aspires to leave Westcrown and eventually go to Cheliax's capital, where he can gain even more power and influence. But such a move requires time and patience and such ambition requires cunning. It is a good thing this man has all of these things.

He cares little for his progeny. Joshua is not his 'son'. Joshua is the son of a slave in his eyes and can do nothing but hamper his progress toward power. Rather then simply slay his son outright, Armand suffered his sons pain with indifference and experimented on the lad, hoping to learn more about the nature of 'evil' spirits and how to control them.

He is a dangerous individual, with arcane skill and a natural cunning that has lended itself well to both business and politics. When asked what he does, Armand often claims that he is simply a deal broker. The man, tall for a human at 6'6, has long black hair and cold blue eyes. Whenever he is in public he wears extremely professional garb, suited for the noble courts, which is always neat and clean.