Kametree's page

Other Gear: backpack, belt pouch, candle (10), flint and steel, holy text, mess kit, pot, soap, spell component pouch, torch (5), trail rations (2), waterskin, wooden holy symbol of Sarenrae, 21 gp, 6 sp, 5 cp

Encumbrance: 0-58 Light; 59 - 116 Medium ; 117 - 175 Heavy

Current Load: 51 lbs

Cleric Domain (Conversion Inquisition)
Granted Powers: You are a powerful persuader. A honeyed tongue empowered by divine argumentation sways the indifferent and adversarial to your side.

Cleric Domain (Healing)
Granted Powers: Your touch staves off pain and death, and your healing magic is particularly vital and potent.

Rebuke Death (7/day) (Sp) As a standard action, touch heals 1d4 dam to negative HP target.

Vexing Defender +4 trait bonus to Acrobatics to move through larger creatures space without provoking AoO.

Warrior Priest +2 on concentration checks when casting defensively or grappling.

Maybe a little background will help explain my turbulent past. See, when I was a mere girl of only twelve years of age my family farmed the lands south of Tranua. We were a happy fun-loving family. There was me, my mother, my father, and two older brothers. Being the youngest and female I have to admit I got away with murder. My brothers and I had a love-hate relationship. They loved me but hated that I had no real chores except to get in their way. I hated being bored so I loved bothering them. It didn’t help I use to play pranks on them and sometimes to my delight get them in hot water with my parents.

However, now remembering them now only makes me want to cry.
I’m getting ahead of myself……I shall start from the beginning or at least where it truly matters.

My world was turned upside down on a very dark day. Maybe it was a warning of times to come. I had just finished getting my second oldest brother into trouble when the bright sunny day was swallowed up by black rolling clouds. I recall the winds shifting in all kinds of directions. Dust stirred up all around me as I clung to my dolly and called out for my mother. I ducked just in time to be missed by a crate flying in the air. That’s when I noticed a peculiar wagon setting in front of my house. My curiosity took over, I walked around the wagon touching anything I could until it happened. A boney cold hand gripped my shoulder from behind, startled I screamed and dropped my dolly. I was too terrified to turn around until my eldest brother came to my side and said dinner was ready.

Breathing a slight sigh of relief I turned to see a very old man with long white hair and beady brown eyes staring down at me. I maneuvered so I was no longer in his grasp but the cold stare made my bones shiver. I gave him a small friendly greeting before I ran into the house. My house was filled with weary travelers who sought shelter from the nasty rain storm that seemed to catch us all by surprise. That old white haired man followed me inside but said nothing until the elders started talking about religion. He spoke soft and with such gentleness in his voice that I wanted to hear him talk for the rest of the night. He spoke highly of his God, Sarenrae. He even left me some holy parchments rolled up to read about Sarenrae. My parents were not interested in hearing of another God and forbid me from reading any literature on the subject. Instead of burning the papers as instructed I hid them in the secret compartment of my dolly.

The storm came and went and so did our strange visitors. For the next week I was more interested in studying Sarenrae then bugging my older brothers. Little did I know that I would rely on her strength more than ever . I recall sitting up on top of a hill under a tree reading a passage on one of the scrolls when a mob of farmers came running towards me screaming, crying, and yelling. I was nearly knocked down several times trying to ask where my family was. Fighting my way through the crowd to go the direction they were running from I made my way back to my farm house. The air smelt of burning flesh and my eyes hurt from all the smoke. With all the will I could muster I opened the front door to see my family sitting around the table. They looked like they were just about to enjoy an evening meal. None of them turned to look at me so I moved in to get a closer look. That’s when I knew my life had changed! I saw the daggers protruding from the chests. Blood pooled in their laps as their faces still held the look of surprise. I went to scream but was suddenly hit from behind.

The next thing I knew I was tied to a pole as two bizarre looking creatures carried me away from the farm and back towards the southern woods. I wanted to scream and cry out but my voice wouldn’t cooperate. That’s when I noticed that one of the ugly creatures had my dolly tucked in his belt. I remember feeling such hatred that I could slash their throats if only I were loose. As we approached the woods I could see a small camp set up just inside. The creatures put me down hard causing me to gasp for air. The creature that held my dolly was arguing with another one who appeared to be much stronger. I tried to free myself as they argued until another one came up and struck me from behind but not hard enough to knock me out. Dazed and confused I watched the one with my dolly come running to my aid. He yelled something at the one who hit me and then turned to me, bent down on one knee said in common, “Don’t worry.” He paused and touched his chest speaking in common, “I am Bazuuk. Me no hurt you.” He stroked my hair as I tried to wiggle away from his large gray-green hands. The smell of him made me want to gag but he did place my dolly in my hand just before he got up. He began yelling at the others who then encircled me. Bazuuk challenged them I could not understand him but he put down two before the others gave up, leaving me alone with my new unlikely friend.

Bazuuk kept me close to him and protected me from the rest of those weird creatures I later learned were called Orcs. In fact he inducted me into his tribe. Over time I became a true member of the tribe and revered cook but I always felt my life hung in the balance with only Bazuuk my savior. Upon learning that I was dabbling in the art of healing, the leader instructed Bazuuk that I was to become a gofer but what that really meant was running across battlefields gathering items and curing those that had fell, a battle field medic. Years went by as did my attempts and failures of escaping. Studying the way of Sarenrae, cooking/preparing meals, and tending to the wounded brought me purpose in my new life. I was content with the fact that I was alive.

Bazuuk and I realized that members from our tribe had been dying off at an unsteady pace. He became worried for my safety. Then as if destiny was speaking again another dark day rolled in. I was sick tucked away in my make-shift tent when the winds began to howl. I peeked out of my tent to see the black rolling clouds. I felt my heart drop as witnessed Orcs running around madly, shouting at one another. That’s the dreadful day that I thought Bazuuk died.

Now I realized it was not a storm but War. The sounds of fighting all about. That’s when I knew I had to truly escape, for my life was no longer protected. I somehow got loose and ran, ran like the wind into the night. Halfway across the camp and nearing the woods I noticed Bazuuk running to get to me. Near inches from his own death on countless occasions he met up with me and we ran together into the forests to hide.

We would spend the next 6 weeks close allies in the quest for freedom. We avoided guards both human and orcen as they headed toward Tranau.

Guided by Bazuuk and my keen sense of people, and ability to get out of a jam we finally just a few weeks ago made it to the outskirts of Tranau. I sleep now calm with my dilapidated dolly by my side.