my character uses fighter, which, I feel is FAR from obsolete, the fighter is STILL the best at what he does (yup, you guessed it, baking. ... NO fighting.) anyway, fighters can move normally in heavy armor, reduce the ACP of it, (hell, mith full plate + fighters armor training gives me like... -1 ACP for the full plate) plus, having twice the feats of most any other class, (and access to some pretty good ones that many other classes are denied) make for a pretty good class imo. even for skills, take a dip in expert ;).
also, for rogue-
Rogues are... hard to play as, however, there are still plenty of ways to make use of them, and are, while not cream of the crop, obsolete. (especially if the GM is willing to use some 3pp stuff for rogues, such as the glory rogue). while on its own, it can be overshadowed, it is not always so.
look at my build, its a level 20, gestalt mythic sure, but it shows just how powerful the two of these classes can be combined!
Born in the mountains, to a small village hidden away from the world, Darien Rhazael Vilander was born. He was the son of an angel, and a powerful sorcerer of the village. Darien’s lineage followed that of one of the last great gold Wyrms within the land. Ancient and powerful blood raged through his veins like wildfire. Leaving him golden, his hair, vibrant blonde, even his eyes were a brilliant gold, he even grew a set of golden wings, while not strong enough to grant him flight, they were able to be controlled slightly and gave him an aura of power. He was trained in controlling his powers by his mother, however there was a very aggressive nature to him. When he played, or learned he always had to be first. He had to be the best, not only because of his lineage but because he demanded it of himself. He wanted power, eventually the lessons did not come fast enough, his lust for strength driving him further on. In his brashness he left the mountain village, seeking ancient caverns surrounding it, and was set upon by a small group of orcs. Darien smiled, he raised his hands and let out a torrent of fire, felling several in an instant, however more came, and some were not deterred by the flames and soon were upon him. He was struck twice by poisoned blades. In pain, a rage came. A rage like nothing he had felt before, he grew claws of a dragon, his skin turned to scales and he was lost to a bloodlust. He shredded several more of the beasts, his physical fitness serving him well, but still more came and he fell deeper into the rage. Finally he was struck down and with blurry vision looked up to a greataxe ready to smash down on him when a golden wyrm lept from on high scattering the orcs. After the orcs fled the golden dragon returned to its normal form, it was his mother. She tended to him there for hours, too afraid to move him lest the poison spread faster. Eventually, the orcs returned with the full size of their war party and they were heading straight towards the village. His mother told him to wait where he lay as if I could move he thought in response. She turned and morphed into the golden dragon once again and flew off into the orc’s ranks. For hours shouting and roars were heard then silence. Darian laid there a day, falling asleep against his will that night, the next morn, his wounds were healed and the poison gone, his mother’s healing proving great. He made his way to the spot he had heard the battle coming from the night before, he looked around in awe as scores upon scores of dead and charred orcs lay where they were slain. It was then he heard a moan, and to his dismay, found his mother, laying beaten and bloody ontop of a pile of dead orcs. After he helped her off the pile and into a sitting position behind the rocks she told him of the battle, about how the orcs warband had been an extremely large one, about the great orc warboss that had lead them, how she fell, to volleys of arrows and the mighty sword stroke of the warboss. Darien laid there crying, blaming himself for roaming so far from the village in the mountains, knowing that orcs and other monsters called these mountains there home.
I swear to you this day mother, The orc shall pay for what they’ve done. I will garner the strength, and power to destroy them all. I swear to you… (sobs) They will all pay, and I will never let something like this happen again. I HATE THEM!
His mother, her glamour now fading due to her loss of strength placed a gentle hand on his face and said.
My son, bear no ill towards them, it is but the way of things… (deep breath) I have something I need to tell you, something I should have told you long before. She pauses a moment and gathers her strength.
know that no matter what, I will always love you, I was not sure if what I knew was true, I thought perhaps, your other great lineage’s would wash it away, and for a while, and at least physically, they have. But when I saw you fight yesterday, I saw not only the strength, a nobility of dragon, and angel, but pure ferociousness and the savagery of orcs. Your drive for power, your reckless ways and pride, Even the way you fight, stems from the blood of orcs. You see, you have orc blood coursing in your veins, it is weaker, and lesser than that of your dragon blood, but it will cause you to seek out power, it will tempt you to anger, and hate, to pride. While these are all emotions we use, it will attempt to force you into feeling only these. You must fight it, you have the strength to do so, you can master it, as I have. as her glamour falls away, her skin turns to a light green, tusks appear on her bottom lip, and her hair vanishes.
The orc leader is your half-brother, my son, the son of me and a human man. His lineage has almost overtaken him, physically, and emotionally. But I saw something in his eyes. A glimmer of hope, there I still, what was once my first baby boy in there somewhere and I could not strike him down. I am sure he hated me, for I am sure he feels I abandoned him… our village was attacked by orcs, burned to the ground, his father slain… I could not find him. I killed many of them that night, but I could not find him. So I left, I left that part of my life behind, leaving him for dead, until today, when I saw him. He recognized me to I am sure… Your half-brothers name is David, my son, forgive me. You must leave these mountains… there is nothing left for you here, find your way, My grandfather, an elf named Tariel, resides in Irrisen, so too, my father, an orc named Krumush, lives there. Seek them out, and remember always I love you.
Darien could only mutter a single world. No…. as he looked on in disbelief, not long after she spoke to him, his mother died. She had saved her last energy to live until she could speak with him, one last time. Darien sat in silent shock for over a day, before returning to the village carry his mother. When he got there the village was in ruins, the houses were burning, the livestock slaughtered. Bodies of the men in the militia of the small village lay about pillaged and brutalized. He buried his mother at the peak of the mountain. Casting a permanent light spell to forever illuminate the site, to this day he still cannot say how he accomplished the task, it just… happened. When he returned to the village he checked the small cave where the children and women would hide during other incidents, though of smaller caliber and found most of the children and a few mothers there alive, some, wrapped in cloth at the back, killed by blades or smoke. He told them they had to leave, the village they had called home for over 200 years was no longer safe for them. He guided them out of the mountains to the closest town nearby and said his farewells, even to his beloved Anna. He promised them he would be back after speaking with his grandfather, and after he gain greater strength. He told them he would come back one day and once again make the mountains theirs, that he would keep them safe. As he left the town, Darian knew what he had to do for now, to anyone looking it seemed he had everything under control, but inside his heart, emotions were swirling, he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. He had a brother, that brother had killed his mother, and his family, but his mother wanted him to save his half-brother from himself? How? Why shouldn’t he just kill him? Why couldn’t he hate that bastard? Why did he feel this pity, this… caring? He could only hope his grandfather Tariel could tell him. Hoped he would tell him what to do, that he should hate his half-brother, hate orcs and kill them all… but yet, somewhere in his heart, he hoped not.
Born in the mountains, to a small village hidden away from the world, Darien Rhazael Vilander was born. He was the son of an angel, and a powerful sorcerer of the village. Darien’s lineage followed that of one of the last great gold Wyrms within the land. Ancient and powerful blood raged through his veins like wildfire. Leaving him golden, his hair, vibrant blonde, even his eyes were a brilliant gold, he even grew a set of golden wings, while not strong enough to grant him flight, they were able to be controlled slightly and gave him an aura of power. He was trained in controlling his powers by his mother, however there was a very aggressive nature to him. When he played, or learned he always had to be first. He had to be the best, not only because of his lineage but because he demanded it of himself. He wanted power, eventually the lessons did not come fast enough, his lust for strength driving him further on. In his brashness he left the mountain village, seeking ancient caverns surrounding it, and was set upon by a small group of orcs. Darien smiled, he raised his hands and let out a torrent of fire, felling several in an instant, however more came, and some were not deterred by the flames and soon were upon him. He was struck twice by poisoned blades. In pain, a rage came. A rage like nothing he had felt before, he grew claws of a dragon, his skin turned to scales and he was lost to a bloodlust. He shredded several more of the beasts, his physical fitness serving him well, but still more came and he fell deeper into the rage. Finally he was struck down and with blurry vision looked up to a greataxe ready to smash down on him when a golden wyrm lept from on high scattering the orcs. After the orcs fled the golden dragon returned to its normal form, it was his mother. She tended to him there for hours, too afraid to move him lest the poison spread faster. Eventually, the orcs returned with the full size of their war party and they were heading straight towards the village. His mother told him to wait where he lay as if I could move he thought in response. She turned and morphed into the golden dragon once again and flew off into the orc’s ranks. For hours shouting and roars were heard then silence. Darian laid there a day, falling asleep against his will that night, the next morn, his wounds were healed and the poison gone, his mother’s healing proving great. He made his way to the spot he had heard the battle coming from the night before, he looked around in awe as scores upon scores of dead and charred orcs lay where they were slain. It was then he heard a moan, and to his dismay, found his mother, laying beaten and bloody ontop of a pile of dead orcs. After he helped her off the pile and into a sitting position behind the rocks she told him of the battle, about how the orcs warband had been an extremely large one, about the great orc warboss that had lead them, how she fell, to volleys of arrows and the mighty sword stroke of the warboss. Darien laid there crying, blaming himself for roaming so far from the village in the mountains, knowing that orcs and other monsters called these mountains there home.
I swear to you this day mother, The orc shall pay for what they’ve done. I will garner the strength, and power to destroy them all. I swear to you… (sobs) They will all pay, and I will never let something like this happen again. I HATE THEM!
His mother, her glamour now fading due to her loss of strength placed a gentle hand on his face and said.
My son, bear no ill towards them, it is but the way of things… (deep breath) I have something I need to tell you, something I should have told you long before. She pauses a moment and gathers her strength.
know that no matter what, I will always love you, I was not sure if what I knew was true, I thought perhaps, your other great lineage’s would wash it away, and for a while, and at least physically, they have. But when I saw you fight yesterday, I saw not only the strength, a nobility of dragon, and angel, but pure ferociousness and the savagery of orcs. Your drive for power, your reckless ways and pride, Even the way you fight, stems from the blood of orcs. You see, you have orc blood coursing in your veins, it is weaker, and lesser than that of your dragon blood, but it will cause you to seek out power, it will tempt you to anger, and hate, to pride. While these are all emotions we use, it will attempt to force you into feeling only these. You must fight it, you have the strength to do so, you can master it, as I have. as her glamour falls away, her skin turns to a light green, tusks appear on her bottom lip, and her hair vanishes.
The orc leader is your half-brother, my son, the son of me and a human man. His lineage has almost overtaken him, physically, and emotionally. But I saw something in his eyes. A glimmer of hope, there I still, what was once my first baby boy in there somewhere and I could not strike him down. I am sure he hated me, for I am sure he feels I abandoned him… our village was attacked by orcs, burned to the ground, his father slain… I could not find him. I killed many of them that night, but I could not find him. So I left, I left that part of my life behind, leaving him for dead, until today, when I saw him. He recognized me to I am sure… Your half-brothers name is David, my son, forgive me. You must leave these mountains… there is nothing left for you here, find your way, My grandfather, an elf named Tariel, resides in Irrisen, so too, my father, an orc named Krumush, lives there. Seek them out, and remember always I love you.
Darien could only mutter a single world. No…. as he looked on in disbelief, not long after she spoke to him, his mother died. She had saved her last energy to live until she could speak with him, one last time. Darien sat in silent shock for over a day, before returning to the village carry his mother. When he got there the village was in ruins, the houses were burning, the livestock slaughtered. Bodies of the men in the militia of the small village lay about pillaged and brutalized. He buried his mother at the peak of the mountain. Casting a permanent light spell to forever illuminate the site, to this day he still cannot say how he accomplished the task, it just… happened. When he returned to the village he checked the small cave where the children and women would hide during other incidents, though of smaller caliber and found most of the children and a few mothers there alive, some, wrapped in cloth at the back, killed by blades or smoke. He told them they had to leave, the village they had called home for over 200 years was no longer safe for them. He guided them out of the mountains to the closest town nearby and said his farewells, even to his beloved Anna. He promised them he would be back after speaking with his grandfather, and after he gain greater strength. He told them he would come back one day and once again make the mountains theirs, that he would keep them safe. As he left the town, Darian knew what he had to do for now, to anyone looking it seemed he had everything under control, but inside his heart, emotions were swirling, he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. He had a brother, that brother had killed his mother, and his family, but his mother wanted him to save his half-brother from himself? How? Why shouldn’t he just kill him? Why couldn’t he hate that bastard? Why did he feel this pity, this… caring? He could only hope his grandfather Tariel could tell him. Hoped he would tell him what to do, that he should hate his half-brother, hate orcs and kill them all… but yet, somewhere in his heart, he hoped not.
Backstory- A street urchin, a gutter child, Derick group up alone after the age of 6, he was taken in by a band of urchins that had a bad reputation as thieves and burglars. As he aged he began to take leadership over “heists” his tactical mind making them ever easier, though his charismatic aspects were lacking. And so it went until one day, after a fierce argument with an older child about the codes of the “gang” he was betrayed. During the “heist” (really just mostly food theft) he was caught, somehow the man knew exactly where to be, at the exact moment. The price for attempted thievery within the city, was your hand. Derick fought fiercely with his dagger, showing a talent with it few possessed (at the age of 12!) but was overpowered. Luckily for him, a wanderer, passing through town and happened upon the scene, and before the merchants guard could take the toll he stopped him. He paid for the boys food, and offered to take him off the cities hands. The merchant, happy he had been paid, and happy for the possibility of the trouble maker being taken away, agreed to drop the incident. The wanderer, wearing a strange garb of distant lands walked with a curved blade at his side. He had long, jet black hair and sparkling green eyes, just like young Derick. Shortly after leaving the merchant Derick thanked the man and turned to leave, but was caught by his shoulder. The man, naming himself Akio, Akio Ryuu, offered to teach the boy Bushido. He told the child he believed he had a gift and that he could one day master the way of the sword. But that first Derick and to vow to follow his teachings, and vow to use his strength for aid others, not just himself, after a moment’s thought, and a glance towards the urchins hideout, he cheerfully agreed as he had always yearned to train in swordplay from a teacher, and had himself spent many of the past two years practicing alone with his dagger. However, not long after leaving the city he realized he wouldn’t be learning sword techniques any time soon… Akio made Derick write out a code of edicts, or, life morals that he would be sworn to follow and defend at all times. Luckily for Derick, his edicts mostly agreed with his masters.
-Defend those weaker, who cannot defend themselves,
-Stand for the truth, and what is right, even if it is detrimental to you.
-Take credit and or payment when it is due, but never when unwarranted.
- Loyalty to Family, either blood, or bond, is the uttermost goal
-Honor in all things
- Resort to the blade only when necessary.
After that, came months of physical training, training that pushed Derick to and past the limits of his body. Many a time he had contemplated running away, even life as an urchin must be better than this! But, whether through sheer stubbornness or fate, he stayed. He was taught about the history of the arts he would learn, and taught much in the way of arts. Finally, a year after he agreed to go with the wanderer, after he held true to those edicts he wrote long ago. He was given a wooden sword and taught his first techniques. The movements came easy to him, and he learned at a rapid level. His year of hard work was paying off. Always there was a twinkle in his eye, whether learning the blade, or learning the art. At the age of 17, Akio, Derick’s master told him it was now time for him to have his first blade. At first Derick thought it would be given to him. But the next day, they entered into a large smithy, and Akio began to teach Derick the art of smithing. For weeks Derick toiled and learned, he learned how to meld the metal, how to make it bend and fold. Finally, a month later, with the help of Akio, he forged a blade, it was crude, and a tad brittle. Derick while proud of his work, longed for better. He toiled for yet more weeks, and finally, 2 months after his first lesson, created his very own blades. They were of excellent quality, surprising even his master, Akio. He learned to fight with katana and naginata, using the speed of one, and the strength and length of the other. He was taught to fight from horseback, and how to use his knees to direct and steer the animal. It would be on the plains where he would catch, and tame his own stallion, and soon forge of strong bond of friendship with it. Life was grand for Derick, he had come to see Akio not only as a teacher, and master, but as a father. Then, on his 19th birthday, His Sensai disappeared. All that was left was a single handwritten parchment.
-You have learned all you can as of now under my wing, it is time you went out and led your own life, made your own decisions, truly, your own. Gather the experiences of life under your belt, expose yourself to the wonderful, and dreadful things of this world. Grow rich and strong from the experiences, and fear not. For you when are ready to continue further, you will find me. Until then, take this ring as my parting gift, and may it always shine a light for you, and remind you of your duty.
That was 2 years ago, Derick has experienced much of the world since then, living as he had with Akio, as a wanderer, coming into town, and always changing a life before he left. Slight changes had overtaken the young man, a sense of need to prove himself, to continuously sharpen and hone his martial skills and a need to ever onward find more dangerous and challenging foes to ever more test his resolve, the way of the wandering warrior, The path that defies destiny. That is the path he walks. It is the hardest of all paths to undertake, but is always the most fulfilling to those that navigate its perilous trenches. The way of the Ronin.
background summary:
was trained by a elven warrior after his village was pillaged, the elven warrior (Taldori) saved the lad after he proved to have a natural talent with his late fathers blade (a gladius). used the boys lean body type to teach him the way elves fought. now works as a merc and adventurer, loves the freedom of the life style and the adrenaline rush of combat and the danger.
he is a very reckless lad, almost a thrill seeker. He was separated from his teacher by a rock cave in and has been looking for him for over a year. during which he has heard rumors of a man matching a description of his father, who was at the time the captain of the local militia.
I believe I will submit an inquisitor. Due to the nature of the class he will most liekly be 5th or 6th PC spot, as he will be good at many things but great at none in particular. Save maybe killing heresy lol.
I was gonna make a fighter for this... but Kinda want to make a wizard...
I just finished my character when I realized, mine and tricords were basically the exact same fighter... since he beat me to the punch I will let my favorite type of fight fall and switch it up. hmmm
That's fine, any large descrapacies between stats of the final party I would work out. Gnomes are there, though expect many stares. Most gnomes have fallen to the fading.
Half elven monk. Out to see the world and learn any martial arts he could not learn at home. Seeks enlightenment through the understanding of all cultures and mastery of there martial arts.
Starting location is something I haven't decided upon, several thoughts come to mind.
Paris, France
Rome, Italy
London, England
Toledo, Spain
or even Moskovia Muscovy. (russia)
each starting point will effect the first "quest line" so to speak, however this certainly can be ignored.
also another note,
Latin is the common language of most aristocrats however peasantry are less likely to know it. (though they may understand some of it)
each country will follow its IRL language. with each race keeping its "own" language as well. However, the following languages will not be used
Celestial, gnoll, orc, giant, goblin.
domains that are "accepted" within the church (order of cloth) are-
healing, Fire, glory, Sun, Community, war, law, nobility, Law, Rune and Protection. (Note, cloisters accept knowledge as well.)
Inquisitions: Banishment, Chivalry, Justice, Fervor Inquisition
Final Rest Inquisition
Heresy Inquisition
Illumination Inquisition
Imprisonment Inquisition
Justice Inquisition
Order Inquisition
Redemption Inquisition
Torture Inquisition
Truth Inquisition
Valor Inquisition
Vengeance Inquisition
Zeal Inquisition
Starting at 2nd level, does that mean that we are starting with 1,000 for equipment?
A previous low magic game I was in had a modified version of masterwork equipment to compensate for the lack of magic (six levels total, instead of just normal and masterwork). Is this something you might look into for this game?
As you said, arcane magic is looked at with disfavor, is divine magic looked at in a similar fashion?
ever watched full metal alchemist? in Europe the catholic church has all but taken over public opinion, unless you are a member of there order, or on rare occasion, gifted a "permit" to practice it, yes. (it would be a medallion wrought of silver) however permits won't be available at character creation. otherwise you are a heretic and pagan. to most, not everyone, (elves have the most... tolerant society) but the fantasy races are extremely a minority. so. eh.
as for that, magic weapons WILL be around, just, a +1 blade would be, well, not even the all kings have magical equipment.
@ashe, level 2.
@dragon, put them down in order rolled please. seems you have the hang of it.
BACKSTORY NOTE: you may choose to be part of an order if you so wish. There are several.
The order of the cloth: Basically the catholic priesthood of the time, any remaining divine casters that are not branded as heretics would remain here.
The fighting Chance (Mercenary guild): Sprang up in france not long ago. Draws many men, both great warriors and fodder, with the chance of earning gold as great as the nobility.
Army: whether your a deserter, lone survivor, or just on holiday, most of the populace would be from this group. (positions include, archer, footsoldier, knight, fodder, royal guard,)
Cloister: Latin monks, while most were never training in combat, some might have wanted to learn in order to defend against the encroaching chaos.
Dragons Last: one of the larger remaining groups of arcane magic users. these members communicate through magical messages and biannual gatherings. there number one goal for now is simple. Survive, number 2, restore magic to the world. whether this is a good thing or a bad thing... noone is sure.
peasant: you are just a lowly commoner, working the fields or smithies in a town owned by a noble. However fate smiled on you perhaps, and gave you a chance.
Inquisition: Order started in spain, seeks out all heretics and, painfully (if possible) puts them to death. Works along side the Order of the cloth most of the time, however the latter's morals conflict with the Inquisition groups work from time to time.
note that all core races are represented in all of these, the only race that receives true prejudice are the half orcs. However elves are looked upon with slight distrust for there long lives and "triksy" ways.
--- if you come up with something not covered here, by all means ask about it and could quite possibly fill it.
I will eventually post more detailed info in the campaign info.
