About KahurangiStatistics:
Male Half-Orc Shaman 2
CG Medium Humanoid (Human, Orc) Initiative +0; Senses Perception +10; darkvision 60’. ------------------------------ DEFENSE ------------------------------ AC 16, touch 11, flat-footed 15 (+1 dex, +5 chainshirt) HP: 15 (1d8/lvl = 9 + 6) Fort +3, Ref +3, Will +10 ; but see Endurance (including +1 luck bonus to all from Sacred Tatoo racial trait and +1 ABP) ------------------------------ OFFENSE +1 (ABP) Coral Spear +2, 1d8 x3
Using a hex is a standard action that doesn't provoke an attack of opportunity unless otherwise noted. The saving throw DC to resist a hex is equal to 10 + 1/2 the shaman's level + the shaman's Wisdom modifier. ------------------------------
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Skills (8 points/level; 4 Shaman, 1 INT, 2 background, 1 favored class)
(0) Appraise +1
Non-Standard Skill Bonuses
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Spirit Animal (Ex):
A shaman must commune with her spirit animal each day to prepare her spells. While the spirit animal does not store the spells like a witch's familiar does, the spirit animal serves as her conduit to divine power. If a shaman's spirit animal is slain, she cannot prepare new spells or use her spirit magic class feature until the spirit animal is replaced. This ability uses the same rules as the wizard's arcane bond class feature and is treated as a familiar, except as noted below.
A shaman uses her level as her effective wizard level when determining the abilities of her spirit animal. A shaman can select any familiar available to wizards to serve as her spirit animal, although her spirit animal is augmented by the power of her chosen spirit. Once selected, the spirit animal cannot be changed. Although a shaman's spirit animal uses the statistics of a specific animal, it is treated as an outsider with the native subtype for the purposes of spells and abilities that affect it. The shaman's spirit animal is treated as a familiar for the purposes of all spells, effects, and abilities that affect familiars. If a spirit animal is lost or dies, it can be replaced after 24 hours through a special ritual that consumes material components worth 500 gp per shaman level. The ritual takes 8 hours to complete. The new spirit animal must be of the same sort of creature as the previous one. Spirit Magic (Ex):
A shaman can spontaneously cast a limited number of spells per day beyond those she prepared ahead of time. She has one spell slot per day of each shaman spell level she can cast, not including orisons. She can choose these spells from the list of spells granted by her spirits (see the spirit class feature and the wandering spirit class feature) at the time she casts them. Spirit of the Heavens (Ex):
The flesh of the shaman's spirit animal accurately reflects the stars that would be visible in the night sky, no matter where the animal is or the time of day. Due to this, it can be used as a star chart. In addition, it gains a fly speed of 5 feet; if the animal already has a fly speed, instead its fly speed increases by 10 feet. While the animal is flying, a small nimbus of light surrounds it. Spirit Ability: Stardust (Sp):
As a standard action, the shaman causes stardust to materialize around one creature within 30 feet. This stardust causes the target to shed light as a candle, and it cannot benefit from concealment or any invisibility effects. The creature takes a –1 penalty on attack rolls and sight-based Perception checks. This penalty to attack rolls and Perception checks increases by 1 at 4th level and every 4 levels thereafter, to a maximum of –6 at 20th level. This effect lasts for a number of rounds equal to half the shaman's level (minimum 1). Sightless creatures cannot be affected by this ability. The shaman can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + her Charisma modifier. Hex: Healing:
A shaman soothes the wounds of those she touches. This acts as cure light wounds, using the shaman's caster level. Once a creature has benefited from the healing hex, it cannot benefit from it again for 24 hours. At 5th level, this acts as cure moderate wounds. Hex: Heaven's Leap (Su):
The shaman is adept at creating tiny tears in the fabric of space, and temporarily stitching them together to reach other locations through a limited, one-way wormhole. As a standard action, the shaman can designate herself or a single ally that she can see who is within 30 feet of her. She can move that creature as if it were subject to Jester's Jaunt. Once targeted by this hex, the ally cannot be the target of this hex again for 24 hours. ------------------------------
Money 0 PP 41 GP 5 SP 0 CP (~1 pounds) Masterwork Spear (2 GP) (6 lb.)
Chana (Combat Trained) (75 GP)
Kahurangi’s Childhood:
Destiny is the terminus of perseverance and time. Under the passing of a comet, various cultures have differing traditions of how to respond to the cosmic phenomenon. Some celebrate. Others prepare for the worst. Such was the case in the birth of Kahurangi, son of hunters in the Moana tribe. His father, Henare, was an established woodsman, while his mother, Arataki, was the only daughter of aging Chief Rongo. The lot of them lived in the islands off the Western coast of mainland Avistan, South of Pezzack. Life was simple – boat, breed, and bury. Excellent sailors, the group were originally a set of poor outcasts in harsh Cheliax – mostly humans and half-orcs. Their escape to the isles off the coast was before Kahurangi’s birth and that of his parents, but not of Chief Rongo and some of the other elders. Sometimes those elders would tell stories of oppressive life in the empire, of slavery and hunger, fear and pain. Some had brought metal armor – relics of manufacturing to a larger scale than sustainable on these islands – while others had swept up traces of alchemy and sorcery in their departure. Most on the islands followed the simple paths of hunters, anglers, or farmers to keep the happenstance tribe fed. Kahurangi was one of the few that didn’t, instead being recognized by the seers at an early age for magical aptitude. Yet this provided a conflict: A standing rule in the tribe was leaders could not be trained mages, mainly because the exiles had been under the yoke of many devil-associating wizards and clerics; due his lineage, Henare was set to become chief upon Rongo’s surely not-too-distant death, Kahurangi to follow upon his father’s passing. Arataki, the human part of his lineage, was thrilled at the prospect, pleased to see her son had exceptional talent, but Henare was disappointed, wanting more power for his boy. On his 10th birthday, Kahurangi was forced to make a choice on which path he would follow for the tribe, as was tradition. He had the path of the mage available and took it. With limited texts and tutors, Kahurangi had just familiarized himself with the basics when catastrophe struck; what seemed like an armada of ships bearing Chelish heraldry arrived at dawn, taking the islanders by surprise. They’d always retreated back to the foliage inland when such vessels had approached before, and people nearly never landed on the seemingly uninhabited isles – and the few times they did, the islanders left no survivors. This time though, military partitions dispatched in small crafts to spread and conquer. The warriors put up a resistance as well as they could, but they were quickly felled. Survivors were rounded-up and brought before an inquisitor whose job it was to decide their fates: Live as slaves or die as refuse. The sick and elderly were slain as well as any who didn’t submit. Some weren’t given a choice; leaders of the various factions of the tribe were put to the axe as well as any in the line of power. Kahurangi saw Chief Rongo beheaded, yet he must’ve missed his parents – they were nowhere to be seen. Soon, it was his turn. ”Boy, what is your name?!” Asked one of the soldiers flanking the inquisitor, his black and red robes bearing the symbols of who the youth would later learn to be Asmodeus. ”Kahu,” came the meek reply. ”Your FULL name!” A lash came from a whip of one of the slave drovers. Kahurangi began to cry. ”Ka – Kahurangi!” The inquisitor seemed to take an interest in him. ”Hmm … this one has blue eyes.” Fear shot into Kahurangi’s heart – very few on the islands had those color eyes, and the man might figure out who his family was and kill him for it! ”Stand still and stop wailing!” Another lash came. The inquisitor chanted a few words, starting directly into the boy’s soul, it seemed. It was almost as if he could feel his very being inspected, his memories observed. ”Your mother was happy you could cast some candlelight, was she?” The man laughed cruelly. ”You’ll have plenty of chances to get accustomed to dim light where you’re going. Take him to the ship. Bind his mouth!” So it was the idyllic time on the isles ended and the slave ship to Sargava departed. So many of his community were slaughtered before him, Kahurangi was beside himself with grief. He barely could walk to the hold in the ship, his legs only functioning out of lashes of pain when they refused. The property was stripped and marched below deck, kept in the cold, dark bowels of the vessel. Days and days passed, the most meager of food and drink tossed down the steps into the chamber. Fights broke-out to get nourishment, but the strong bond between the people prevailed and prevented fatal injuries. When they arrived at their destination, it was hot and humid, the air oppressive in its thickness. The slaves were very weak, many having lost a tithe of their body weight. Another set of officers awaited them at the shore. A Second Escape:
”This is Bloodcove, slaves. You will be fed at the end of a day’s labor in the quarries and forests outside the town here. Work and eat, idle and die.” That was all there was to it. They were given drink so they didn’t perish due to dehydration, but otherwise they had nothing to mitigate the elements. Dozens died from sickness or injury, still others resisted and were executed. Yet after a few months of labor, one night in their pen, a whispered conversation provided a spark of hope.
”I can’t take this anymore. We should all make a break for it.” Ruru, on the other hand, was still himself – quick of body and wit. He always preferred to keep his hands and mind busy with something, and his mettle in the face of the daunting odds was far above par for their group. ”Run? You’ve seen the things they’ve got in this jungle. We wouldn’t make it one night.” A hint of a smirk could be heard in Marama’s voice. ”Better than helping them and dying here later. You remember what Rongo kept telling us? It’s like it’s happening all over again!” Despite his impulsiveness, Ruru had a great deal of respect for the elders in the tribe. There were less of those now though. The group quieted down as a patrol passed near where they were laying. They waited until it passed. ”And they got a lot of good years out of it after, right? That’s how they got to those islands.” ”There aren’t any free islands to go to here. You’ve got pirates on one side, a hurricane on the other.” ”But there might be in the jungle.” ”I’m not running to my death on a “might,” countered Marama. ”The spirits would have to give us a sign.” And right then as destiny commanded, a streak of heavenly fire came into view over the horizon. ”That’s it! There’s your sign!” Awe filled Ruru’s exclaimation. It was so timely, even skeptics like Marama had nothing to say. It was as if the gods themselves had given them permission to rebel. A haphazard discussion took place throughout the night, excitement and trepidation in the slaves’ voices, hurried by the immediacy of the omen in the sky. In the morning, they hatched their plan. During the split between foresters and miners at the edge of the settlement, two people in each group faked a leg injury – an impediment just serious enough for the soldiers to inspect to see if they should be forcefully marched or put to death. The tribe then swarmed the guards. Over time, the overseers had grown complacent, only a handful watching each group. Sheer numbers overwhelmed the two in the middle, breaking their necks, and the gathered weapons allowed them to fight-off the remaining four. Some perished, but the majority fled to mostly-vacant river galleys on the interior side of the settlement, setting them on a course up the Vanji River. The craft were designed specifically to deal with coastal combat, so arrows and bows were available, allowing the rogue slaves to defense while the other labor-acclimated escapees rowed at a startling pace. The master boaters easily escaped the Bloodcove harriers on land, sustaining a few losses in exchanged projectile fire, and their speed was enough to keep them ahead of naval pursuit in the short term. Kahurangi breathed a sigh of relief to see Marama and Ruru survived the escapade. Yet the navy of that shadowy settlement was nothing if not stubborn. For days, the ex-slaves aboard the two vessels had to sleep in shifts, only a reduction in speed permissible to match the tenacity of their pursuers. Fortunately, the nets aboard, combined with the supplies on deck meant they had a somewhat sustainable time otherwise. The two people aboard the crafts which didn’t resist immediately were bound, but treated without harm due their surrender. The river eventually took a split to the left before opening days later into a wide lake. Despite the threat from behind and the occasional attacks from locals on either side, the ships emerged into the water's expanse with a taxing decision: Which route should they take? They could venture out to the island in the middle, or one of the various rivers could be taken. Kahurangi – not at all in charge – decided to ask their captives while the adults argued. ”Which river should we take?” The adolescent asked the middle-aged man whose beard had gotten too long for comfort in this humid weather, hoping his experience would yield knowledge in the matter. The man shrugged. ”You’re dead either way. Savages in this jungle, all of it. They all dead-end sooner or later, and you’ll have to deal with them.” Not caring much for the moribund response, Kahurangi moved-on to the younger woman. ”What do you think?” Though she could hear what the person old enough to be his father said, he leaded-in towards the youth and said softly. ”He’s right about the dead-ends, but if you want a chance, head to the right. There’s a city on the coast – Usaro. It’s supposed to have nothing but gorillons living in it, strong enough to kill all who enter. There’s treasure it’s said, but nobody from Bloodcove has ever returned alive. They won’t follow you by it. Head past the bend beyond the city, and turn past the island in the middle. That river will take you the farthest, but it does dead-end.” Kahurangi smiled. ”You’re a good man! What’s your name?” The other – barely a man by any definition – smiled back. ”I’m Renaldo.” It took some convincing, but as the makeshift leaders were just taking a shot in the dark anyway, they took Kahurangi up on his plan, and it worked. The ships turned back as the city came within view, and they nearly avoided getting too close. A good thing – much movement could be seen along the shoreline. The pair of ships moved up the river and reached yet another fork. Here, there was one additional problem; a shortage of sleep and a surfeit of labor had produced a crew short on morale. They decided to make landfall, but it was not twenty paces before they were ambushed by natives, exotic paints and war cries aplenty. Here though, the refugees had one card up their sleeves; when they fled Cheliax the first time, they’d given themselves names from an obscure language known as Polyglot from the writings of one of the empire’s archaeologists, stolen as part of the texts pillaged when they ran. The idea was the people would distance themselves geographically and culturally from their former overlords, separating themselves in tongue as well. Over the generations, more of the language was learned until it was spoken in phrases varied enough by some of the population to be recognized by most of them. The Mwangi Expanse was the native place for that language, and so it was they called-out. ”Hold! We’re not enemies! We’re escaped slaves – please spare us!” At least, that’s what the studied among them attempted to say. It must’ve been passable enough, for the leader of the assailants held up a hand, and a few came forward to inspect them. Their scars, lack of clothing, injuries, and malnourishment were clear indicators of their honesty. The man nodded. ”You’re not like the others from the big towns. Why do you have their ships?” Even through the warpaint on the dark man’s face, it was clear to see the pity he took on them. ”Come. I bring you to the masters.” They took their supplies and captives from the craft – the latter seeming to earn more respect than the former from their escorts – and walked through winding paths through the jungle. After a few miles, they came to a small clearing with some tents, rocks forming a rough perimeter. To the surprise of the tribe, a man in mage’s robes exited one of the tents. ”Hello. You are the visitors the scouts have told me about? I am Hehu.” He had a kind smile to him, his piercings failing to give his benevolent countenance any reason for apprehension. ”I want to hear your story.” After recounting it yet again, Hehu shook his head with sad eyes. ”You cannot stay here. Too much noise, not enough space. But you can head to Kibwe, three days’ boat upriver, four days’ travel inland.” He scratched his chin. ”I can send a message there for you. You give your boats as payment to the settlement close to the river. They will take you in, give you shelter and clothing. Deal?” The exiles accepted, and a week later, they found themselves in the trading settlement, settling into their tents, a respite in a trek of hardship. Family Ties:
Four years later, the now-named Riverfork tribe had adjusted well. They spoke fluent Polyglot, made themselves useful in their community, and had adjusted to “normal” life. Many started having children, some with the other residents of the town. A few had moved off to the coast on various trading ventures. No matter where they were or what they did though, all felt a mutual bond of having gone through their harrowing experiences together. Many lost some, but with no brothers and sisters and his parents and grandfather gone in the calamity, Kahurangi often felt alone, stranded, without purpose. Renaldo – having taken on “Rawiri” as a Polyglot name – had become inseparable with Kahurangi, yet their intimacy did not fill the loss he had. So it was one day when a wizard came through on a trade mission for alchemical herbs from the jungle, Kahurangi, a young man now, negotiated his way into being the woman’s apprentice. Not to be left alone, Rawiri followed suit. Saying his goodbyes, Marama and Ruru accepted their friend’s decision, though with differing reactions. ”You always were strong of choice, Kahu. Fortune shine on you.” The young lady, now an effective huntress, gave him a strong hug good-bye. ”You ever need some coin, you just send me a letter. Don’t you be too proud for a bit of charity – I won’t even make it a loan!” Ruru slapped him on the back in good spirits. The young man had developed into a savvy tradesman in his time here, though he probably spend half his revenue on women and wine. The three left, eyes open to the path ahead through the Ndele Gap. The two apprentices wondered what Amara, their teacher, would show them in Quantium. Under the sky the first night after breaking-out of the jungle, the three had been asleep when Kahurangi awoke to answer the call of nature. Extracting himself from Rawiri’s errant arm, he left their tent to water the bushes. Sighing, his eyes gazed heavenward. Full moon tonight. Looks bigger when you’re alone. His thoughts wandered to his past, recalling the events back on the isles. Perhaps now he would fulfill what he was meant to do, the half-orc thought. Maybe I’ll train and use my spells to stop those slavers from doing those raids anymore. As young men sometimes do, he imagined himself in heroic scenes, saving bystanders with powerful fireballs and lightning bolts and all the other things he’d heard in fantastical tales. But … no, he was also an old soul, reality reigning-in his imagination before it got away from him. In that sense, he was a lot like Marama. He would have to use his talents for another end. But what? As he finished-up, he looked back into the sky. The moonlight was bright, but the glow was more incandescent than he remembered, a twinge of gold seeping into the white surface somehow. It had also shrunk a bit, unless his eyes were playing tricks on him. Maybe it’s not when you’re alone, but the color that makes the size seem to change. He turned around to head back to camp. Standing there was Amara, one of her hands in a channeling pattern, pointed in his direction. He jumped back in shock, then realized who it was. ”Amara! What are you doing?!” ”Boy, I haven’t even gotten you started with your training yet. You told me you didn’t have any experience!” ”I don’t, I –“ ”Then what are you doing getting yourself a familiar?” Kahurangi paused. ”What? I don’t have a pet.” ”Language really is the first thing we need to get down. We’ve talked about this. It’s not a pet. It’s not a magical pet. It’s a familiar. And you most certainly do unless my senses are deceiving me – and I’m not that old.” She snorted in humor, making light of her advancing age. ”Not yet anyway,” added Rawiri with a yawn as he emerged from his tent. ”But she’s right, Kahu. You’ve got one flying above you, though damned if I know how you found it tonight.” Tilting his head straight up, Kahurangi could see directly above him a small mammal floating in the air. It did not seem to be flying as Rawiri said, just hovering. Its webbed feet idled with slight oscillations, though nowhere enough to say it was paddling, and its plump tail sat motionless, not steering it whatsoever. In awe and surprise, the young half-orc watched as the creature levitated down to eye level in front of him, its dark beak not revealing its motives, the moon reflecting off its black eyes. Surrounding the creature was a nimbus of light, dimly illuminating the area around it. Kahurangi couldn’t seem to look away though, instead seeing the surroundings of the monotreme fade out of vision and the reflection of the moon in its eyes become larger and clearer, closer and closer, until he no longer recognized his surroundings at all. He saw the moon coming closer to him, seeming to rush at his being, yet he could not seem to move. It wasn’t that he was stuck, but he didn’t feel he had a body to control. This is a dream. This has to be a dream, he told himself. Yet the moon came closer and closer and then … then he was flying past the moon. He was among the stars. So beautiful. So bright. Clouds beyond the sky he didn’t have names for of myriad colors came and went. Comets in proximity so close he could nearly feel their heat. And then … then there was darkness. Total, complete, absolute darkness. Fear began to creep in.
Not a word, but a feeling to the negative came back in response, seemingly from the nether reaches of the heavens. A … response? Kahurangi tried his luck again, focusing his mind from the out-of-body experience. Where am I? Somehow he felt the presence of Amara and Rawiri nearby. So I haven’t moved? This is just my imagination? A divergent feeling seemed to come to develop, but he got better at detecting these feelings. No, not develop … arrive. From somewhere … Briefly in the edges of space, he saw two glossy orbs with faint silver disks in them. From the platypus! A small jolt of positive energy came to him. Why did you bring me here? You’re not hurting me. Kahurangi felt a warm, uplifting current of wind beneath him. It wasn’t so much relaxing as it was … moving? No… … helpful. You want to help me? Again a positive feeling arrived. Why? A speck came into view, quickly approaching, surrounded by stars. The blue and green speck grew larger, closer until it resembled the largest map of Golarion Kahurangi recognized. The insight was startling, but shocking and angering was the portion of the map the vision closed-in upon: The isles of his youth. The time was right after the ships had left with them. He saw Chief Rongo’s body upon the shore, easily recognizable by his distinguishing dress, along with many of the other slain people. The scene stayed, going back over the corpses again and again. Why?! Why are you showing me this?!” After the third pass or so, he couldn’t help but connect the faces he knew. The population was under a thousand altogether, so he knew basically everyone. There’s the herbalist, a boatbuilder and his brother, the basket-weaver… Yet as he identified more and more of the bodies, there were less and less to identify. Then an idea hit him. Where are my parents? Yes, yes – they weren’t anywhere to be found. In fact, even when accounting for those in the ship, there were dozens and dozens still unaccounted for. Are they alive?! A jolt of positive energy. YESSSSSSSSSSS!.. Where are they? A day passed in accelerated time, the dark and light cycling one more, before the view panned to show a set of survivors emerging from some caves. They hid? Cowardly… Just as he was thinking better of his judgment, he felt himself saying/feeling in concert with the empath in this vision but they survived. Many of the bodies were given a burial by the survivors, their grief plain to see. Yet a few were pulled to a burial site … yet not buried. In the distance, Kahurangi saw a few returning fishing ships. Ah, so some were still out to sea when the slavers arrived! He watched the scene intently, some ritual being performed by one of the original elders he knew. It was taking a long time. Again, time seemed to accelerate itself. Patterns of herbs and oils were laid on these bodies, and some survivors – family from what he could recognize – came to mourn. Yet the elder did not seem sad, but she seemed hopeful. Ahurewa, mother of rites, what is it you are doing? As she seemingly finished each body, the family members – if any remained for the victim – departed. At last, she came to Chief Rongo, his corpse horrific without its head. The scene sickened Kahurangi. He didn’t deserve that. In response, an affirming feeling came from the cosmos around him, not simply an affirmation, but more of a personal vouching in agreement … but that was when two people stepped into view: Mother! Father! Had he a body at the moment, Kahurangi would have been crying. I had always wanted you to make it … I … I just couldn’t keep hoping. It hurt too much! I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help the others, I … I – “ It then occurred to him this was all the vision put in his head by some animal, a platypus of all creatures. They swam up the muddy rivers in Garund, feeding on their bottoms, seemingly ambivalent to the struggles of the world around them. Why do you care?! How do I know you’re telling the truth?! The young man was on an emotional rolled coaster, and though he was only in a vision, he didn’t think he could survive another steep drop of his spirits. No empathic response came, but as the elder got near to finishing her ceremony, Henare stepped out of view for a moment, returning with something in his hands. As the rite’s final verse came into vocalization, he placed the object at the top of Chief Rongo’s spine, then placed a leaf over it. The object was his head, face still serene, yet eyes still open. His father went to close the eyelids with his fingers, and the field of view drew closer. Closer. Closer… and the rest of the world faded away except for that head. Yet the eyes, though the lids were pushed closed, still somehow peered through them, almost as if the covers were translucent. Then they blinked, and a chill ran up Kahurangi’s actual spine as he gasped for breath. In the distance, he could hear voices calling his name. But those eyes … they kept blinking, gazing into his heart. They darkened, the face morphing somehow, growing fuzzy… ”Kahu! Kahu!” The countenance of the platypus emerged through the decapitated head, reflections of the moon in its eyes. You!.. You’re… ”KAHU!” Kahurangi opened his eyes to see he was laying on the ground looking up at the stars. The platypus was floating impossibly above him, only the tip of its bill on his nose, its tail extending vertically into the sky. Rawiri collapsed to the ground and hugged him. ”Man, I thought you were gone! Amara said you were fine, something about attuning to your spirit animal…” Indeed, the older women was grinning at the pair. ”Just like I said, Rawiri. Give him some air though. That took a lot out of him.” Rawiri complied, rolling off of him. ”You two will have to coordinate on a name. It’s a personal decision –“ ”How about Bill,” laughed Rawiri. ”Because the bill is what poked – “ ”Not you two, you twit!” Amara judged Rawiri with her foot. ”Kahurangi and his spirit animal!” ”It can decide?” exclaimed Rawiri. ”If it can decide things, wouldn’t it have a name already?” ”This one does,” beamed Kahurangi, feeling more confident than he ever had while possessing more questions than he ever had. ”Chief Rongo.” With that, the young shaman sat up, pulled the platypus to his shoulder, and felt the warmest emotions radiate from his grandfather as they reconciled wordlessly. Two Prophecies:
The next morning, the trail seemed smoother, the weather more agreeable, and the world kinder. ”I still don’t get it. How do we know why he returned?” Rawiri asked. ”One more time,” said Amara in her teacher’s tone. ”Kahurangi’s grandfather was reincarnated. It’s a technique only experienced mages connected to the natural order can perform, and it sounds just like what your new shaman told us in the vision. If being with your family isn’t enough, we know there’s more of Kahurangi’s family out there – or at least there was, to be pessimistic – waiting to be reconciled. This is something that should be shared with both pieces of the fractured tribe – both the Riverfork and the old islanders. The strength of his grandfather’s spirit allowed him to extend the surroundings between his death and the ritual’s completion through the vision.” ”But where would he find them then?” ”You’re asking the right questions, but you’ve got to think about the answers for yourself instead of asking me all the time, Rawiri,” chided Amara, who then sighed. ”I don’t know. There are diviners strong enough to help figure that out in Quantium. That’s expensive though.” ”So you’re not going to help?” This was Kahurangi’s turn. ”Did I say that?” exclaimed the mage. ”My goodness, it’s just like the pygmies back there. One blow dart after another, an endless barrage of needles in your side, ambushing you before you can even breathe!” The two men chuckled a bit, but their ears were keen for the response in the silence following. ”This is a special case. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I’m curious as you are, and what’s an aging widow going to spend her coin on? Sure, I’ll help. But it’s conditional – you have to expand your talent first.” ”But –“ ”No buts. If your parents are anywhere near that part of the world still, they’re probably not in the same spot. Too much heartbreak, plus those of the Chelish empire hold grudges a long time – they’ll be back to cleanse whoever remains before long. The only reason they didn’t stay that time is because they had a schedule to keep, I’d wager” She took a bite of an apple. ”So it’s not like rushing is going to do you any good.” The woman turned to look into Kahurangi’s eyes. ”And you know better. You actually do. Ah, my boy, I’m sorry. The wheel of fortune has given you a bad spin of events. But think of it this way – the next spin is just that much likely to be better.” Another bit of the green fruit was consumed by Amara. ”I know a priestess of Desna in the city who can help you, but she’s a busy lady. Lots of injuries to mend, diseases to cure.” Amara discarded the core. What Amara hadn’t revealed was her tarot reading that day had a long journey with danger ahead of the young men, with particular catastrophe if they set out together. So it was she trained them in the meantime, biding her time – and coin – until the priestess would see her. In those years, the pair of young men differentiated their talent. Kahurangi was given to being a conduit of divine energies, his connection solidified with his grandfather’s spirit. Rawiri, on the other hand, had no such conductivity, instead needing to learn magic through the books as she did. It was good she was able to assist him in that manner, her expertise in that area accelerating her tutelage of the human. He almost reminded her of her own son, but that was a memory not to be refreshed, less grief consume her. After many seasons had passed, the time had arrived for the next step in the journey. The appointment was made with the priestess, the four souls making their way to her. ”Ah, Jessica, it has been some time.” Amara and the clergywoman exchanged a greeting as the two men looked on from the entry to the church out of earshot. ”Harrower Miller, you know what schedule I keep for exchanges of potent magic. But a divination of this power for your student? You must fancy him deeply.” The priestess smiled, her eyes yielding her familiarity with the other woman. Amara rolled her eyes. ”Hardly. I’m old enough to be their mother, and they’re more interested in each other anyway.” She leaned forward. ”The boy’s grandfather had enough potency in his spirit to linger after death, provide a vista of it via reincarnation, and deliver it after tracking him down as a spirit animal.” Jessica peeked over at Kahurangi, then leaned back to Amara. ”But a platypus?” ”Never mind that. The spirit world has mysterious ways, we both know that. But he was already gone. Pharasma doesn’t brook that kind of spirit-shuffling lightly. There’s something bigger afoot here.” Nodding with a business-like melancholy, the priestess conceded. ”I see. Well, Let’s see what we can see!” She looked over at the men and waved them over. ”Come on back, all of you.” She led them back into a dark room, a crystal ball sitting on a table with black velvet in its center. She sat on a chair behind it, the three of them in chairs on the other site, Kahurangi directed towards the middle one, Chief Rongo on his shoulder. ”Harrower Miller has told me what I need to know to guide this divination, but Kahurangi, it is you who must inquire of the divine to start it.” The young shaman took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. ”I wish to know how I can meet with the survivors of my tribe that didn’t come to Garund.” The priestess began her incantation, words and echos filling the chamber. It was already dark, but light seemed to be sucked towards the crystal ball as it slowly levitated in the air. Crush diamonds were pulled from a pack and drizzled on top of the sphere, seeming to augment the brightness of the light sucked into it. All was blank for a moment. Then many moments. And then an image appeared. A storm, high in the sky as the vision came lower. Many rivers, seemingly splitting everywhere. The rain became hail, and the hail became balls of ice, plummeting into the ground like cold meteors. Or comets, thought Kahurangi. These hailballs became golden in color and then became to take on a new shape. They elongated, hollowed themselves out, and sprouted a cap of sorts. Twinkling gems up the sides adorned the dressings as they plummeted from above. They were crowns. Yet for objects so small as the vision came closer to the ground, they made large dents. Craters, splashes, they left scars upon the land, unforgivingly crashing into it, uncaring of the destruction they caused. Then one crown of something else – off-white in shade – plummeted. Though it killed a stag in its descent, it did not strike the ground, stopping instead above it, levitating. It was smaller than the other crowns, and the vision focused-in on it. As the crown rotated, it was clear numerous gems were missing; it looked like it had not been fully-set yet. The crown then faded into a sparkle in the distance, the world fading away. Stars began to pop into view in the sky, a few at a time, then a plethora, until the nighttime sky was populated. The viewers leaned-in, gazing into the pattern few a few minutes until the vision expired. They all sat back. ”Did any of that mean anything to you, Kahurangi?” He thought a moment. ”There is a new kingdom?” She nodded. ”Or there will be a new kingdom. Amara held her chin, thinking. ”There are a lot of kingdoms though. Kingdoms cause strife.” She was thinking back to her earlier reading, concerned. Rawiri laughed. ”But he’s royalty it looks like! Or the tribe is now! Either way, that’s good.” Kahurangi wasn’t in as high of spirits. I don’t know were to go from here though! That could describe a lot of places in the world. It didn’t help Chief Rongo was fidgeting. ”Okay, looks like I have to take Chief Rongo outside. Thanks for your trouble, priestess.” The platypus floated through the air behind him, poking at his ears with his bill. ”Okay, okay. What do you want?” The two stepped through the doors. It was dusk when they came, and the sun was just beginning to set. As usual, the sparkling of the stars in the night sky began to appear on Chief Rongo’s fur… That was it ”Great thinking, Chief!” Kahurangi dashed back inside. ”Come quick. Chief Rongo knows where the vision is saying to go!” Not quite sharing his enthusiasm, the others walked outside. ”This better be worth my coin,” muttered Amara as they exited the building. ”Ah, oh yes. How resourceful.” The four gathered around the platypus as they worked together to decipher the star chart. It was Rawiri who came up with the final place of agreement. ”Looks like Northeastern Avistan would put you in the right spot. Not quite at the Lake of Mists and Veils, but closer to it than Lake Encarthan.” ”Those are the River Kingdoms,” continued Amara. ”Unstable. Dangerous. Would explain the crowns though.” ”And the rivers,” added Jessica. ”You can get passage upriver there, but that is a long journey.” ”No longer than the one I had getting to Quantium from Kibwe – or to Kibwe from Bloodcove – or –“ Chief Rongo regained his perch on Kahurangi’s shoulder. The link between them felt stronger than it had in a while. ”And it looks like I have grandfather’s support.” ”Great!” exclaimed Rawiri. ”When do we go?” ”You,” Amara set a hand on his shoulder, ”aren’t going anywhere. You’re not as apt as your friend yet, and you two still have an agreement to provide me service for a time yet. This visit wasn’t cheap.” ”So why does he get to go?” Amara shrugged. ”I’m feeling generous.” ”But not generous enough for me?” ”That’s right.” Jessica giggled and turned to Amara. ”Maybe if this one is diligent, we can expedite the end of his agreement.” Amara stared back at her. ”Those details are for us to work out later. Right now, I need the help with refining reagents. A few more shops have opened-up recently, and the competition is driving me mad. My fingers aren’t as fast as they used to be.” With the bickering behind them, they had a warm meal, and Kahurangi was off on the next ship North with Chief Rongo. What awaited him in those lands remained to be seen, but the young shaman had perseverance on his side, fear behind him, and destiny ahead of him. Departure for Destiny:
They stopped at Cassomir before taking smaller craft upriver, the reflection of the cosmos on the platypus guiding his choices when switching craft. After a few ship changes, they seemed to be close to the right place on the chart. It was a good thing too – they’d reached the end of the line in charted territory, unexplored reaches to the East. As the pair walked about the city of Restov, they overheard conversations about a Stag King, some sort of bandit leader. Just like in the vision. Maybe once he’s gone, I can fulfill the vision and bring my tribe back together. Determined to fulfill the divination, the young man and his grandfather set out to rendezvous with any who might be looking to stop that thief. His end would be their beginning, and Kahurangi was looking forward to it. Appearance and Personality:
Young in age but old in spirit, the green-skinned half-orc Kahurangi is a combination of many opposing traits. His skin is rough, but his blue eyes are smooth. His body shows fruits from the recent history of laboring, yet he has never honed them. His dark, mid-length hair is fine, but hair elsewhere is coarse. Kahurangi's dress is simple, stemming from his upbringing, but he is fascinated with the colors and styles available in larger cities. His adventurous personality is likewise a match, willing to sample many new experiences from different cultures. He tries to see the best in people, perhaps naive in his optimism, yet his perseverance has a way of actualizing his wishes. Protective of his grandfather, the young shaman likes to seek his council on affairs mundane and otherwise; he treats Chief Rongo as a confidant and friend with great respect. Detesting unnecessary restrictions, he is an individualistic man, stubborn to accept "no" for an answer, and likes to convince others of his side of things. Perhaps most notably attesting to his youth is his desire for recreation and mirth, not yet embittered by the realities of life, harsh as they may have been to him.
Character Relations:
Chief Rongo, Grandfather Arataki, Mother Henare, Father Marama, friend Ruru, friend Rawiri (formerly Renaldo), friend Hehu, rescuer Amara, teacher Jessica, priestess of Desna --------------------
0th: (all),
1st (5/5):
Chief Rongo:
Platypus Languages (cannot normally speak, but can comprehend): Celestial, Common
Defense:
HP: 6 Fort: +1
Offense:
Melee: Spur +4 (1d3 + 2 plus poison; injury, save fort DC 9, Frequency 1/round for 4 rounds; effect 1 non-lethal damage; cure 1 save.)
(0) Acrobatics +2
Alertness (+2 Perception / Sense Motive)
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