M. Arillius's page

I don't disagree with the concept at all. If anything, the idea of a system that punishes you for being foolish is fascinating and I love it. I would just prefer everyone being equally crippled by exhaustion over time and the system initially seemed to focus only on the divine until extremes. Tying it to healing, however, does have points I see others raise that are hard to ignore. If you need healing, you're in danger. It makes healing a risky venture. Damage, a threat. In regard to the things they said it's harder to discount the fact that it has effected them greatly.

Making exceptions for characters that can channel divine energy, even if it's only to double their threshold or increasing the threshold by level, is a decent idea. These guys aren't as affected because they channel it regularly... but no one is immune.

If the world weariness threshold is increased to something appropriate for levels I think I would go with my paladin concept. I really like the idea of playing a good character who is also ambitious. You don't often see paladins with desires beyond their oaths, but I imagine my character can see quite a bit of good he could do as a Clan Head.

If not, probably the alchemist then. A bit creepier of a character who enjoys dissecting the dangerous creatures in order to learn and even mimic them more and more. And when I say alchemist I mean a full on 'Alchemist'. Though probably not with bombs. That might be the safer route but there is too much flavor in a character that actually gets a bonus from understanding anatomy well.

Tareg
Male Tiefling (Oni-Spawn) Unchained Monk (Weapon Adept) 4
LG M Outsider (Native)
Init +1; [ b]Senses [/b]Dark Vision 60 ft; Perception +11
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Defense
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AC 18 [20], touch 17, flat-footed 16 (+1 Dex, +1 [+3] natural, +5 Monk)
hp 36 (4d10+8)
Fort +5, [ b]Ref [/b]+5, [ b]Will [/b]+6
Resist Cold 5
[] = Barkskin
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Offense
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Speed 40 ft. (50 ft when charging, running or withdrawing)
Melee Sansetsukon +9 (1d10+7/x2)
Full Attack Flurry of Blows
Sansetsukon +7 (1d10+13/x2), Sansetsukon +7 (1d10+13/x2), Extra Ki Attack +7 (1d10+13/x2)
Extra Ki Attack (Cost 1 ki point)
Perfect Strike 4/day
Spell-Like Abilities Barskin (Costs 1 ki point)
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Statistics
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Str 18, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 18, Cha 8
Base Atk +4; CMB +8; CMD 23
Feats Power Attack, Improved Unarmed Attack, Perfect Strike, Dodge, Deflect Arrows, Weapon Focus- Sansetsukon, Snake Style
Traits Restless Wayfarer, Third Eye
Skills Acrobatics +5, Climb +8, Knowledge (Local) +6, Knowledge (Religion) +5, Perception +11, Sense motive +15 (+17 vs compulsion), Stealth +8
Languages Common, Infernal, 2 more to pick
SQ Soul Seer - Deathwatch (Sp)/At Will
Other Gear
Wish list +1 weapon, +2 Wisdom Headband. Not adding since I don't know how much starting gold we get yet.
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Special Abilities
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Soul Seer (Sp) Deathwatch/At Will
Fiendish Sprinter 10ft faster when using Run, Charge and Withdraw
Scaled Skin +1 Natural Armor, Resist 5 Cold
AC Bonus Add Wisdom + 1 to AC, Touch, Flatfooted and CMD
Bonus Feat Dodge, Deflect Arrows
Unarmed Strike Always considers armed, gain Improved Unarmed Strike, Can make attacks with any part of body
Flurry of Blows One additional attack at highest base attack, stacks with effects like haste, Extra Ki attack, etc
Perfect Strike (Ex) Gain Perfect Strike feat, can use 4/day. Roll 2d20 instead of 1d20, use better.
Way of the Weapon Master (Ex) Gain Weapon Focus for one monk weapon as a bonus feat. (Sansetsukon)
Fast Movement 10 ft. enhancement bonus to land speed
Ki Pool (Su) 6/day
Ki Power (Su)
-Barskin (Sp) (Qinggong Power): Spend 1 ki point to cast Barskin on self only. Caster level equal to Monk level.
Still Mind (Ex) +2 bonus on saving throws against enchantment spells and effects.

He's a melee beast, capable of dishing out hits while also avoiding them. He'll always have the flurry of blows which means an extra iterative attack with his Monk weapon, but on top of that when damage is really needed he can pull out a third attack! Though not often. For defense he has Barskin as a spell like ability, making him a bit harder to hit as he draws on both his own oni heritage and the power of the world around him. (Fluff description.) Downside is that monk powers are typically self contained so he can't pass it around.

Then there's snake style. Now normally snake style is a 'use it when you want' feat, but for the sake of simplicity, unless otherwise stated, I plan on just rolling the sense motive and using it on the first attack targeting Tareg a round. Sometimes I may say 'I'll use it on this specific guys attacks' but I'll keep things simple so you don't need to worry about extra back and forth. Either way, it definitely increases his tankiness as he gains the chance to dodge and or deflect a single attack a round. On top of deflect arrows, he'll by dodging left and right.

Finally you have the Mutant Eye trait. It is a weird trait to be certain and that's one of the reasons why I love it. It also fits perfectly with a Tiefling and an Oni-spawn. Who better to suddenly grow a third eye? It makes his bluff and diplomacy even worse by making him even uglier and more disturbing, but it gives him a bonus to sense motive, particularly to try and figure out if someone is enchanted or under a compulsion effect. Very useful for a guy who usually fights evil spirits that possess people.

Tareg is a strange looking creature, though probably no stranger then plenty have seen on Golarion. A few can even recognize what he is, failing on only the specifics. A tiefling they call him and an ugly one at that! Large, brutish, his skin entirely red with spikes protruding here and there from his body... Tareg is definitely not the most appealing to look upon.

He wasn't chosen for his looks though. Tareg came from a very distant land because the Winter has been spreading across all of Golarion. Following the advice of a Forest Spirit, a being he calls a Kami, he has traveled across the ocean to find the source of this dreadful magic.

At level 4, the average Paladin heals between 2-12 hit points. If they get lucky on two lay on hands rolls, one of their main features, they have World Weariness and they lose a Charisma Roll and some Spell Casting. An average Paladin could have as many as 5 Lay on Hands a day, meaning that before they ever get close to running out of Lay on Hands, they're mentally crippled by exhaustion and could even lose spellcasting. How many times can the fighter swing his sword before getting tired? How many times can a wizard cast a spell before getting tired?

At level 4, an Oracle can heal up to between 6-20 hit points in a single spell. They too will be mentally crippled, losing both Class Features (all of them are tied to charisma) and Spellcasting if they happened to roll high on healing.

By targeting Ability Scores, you're kicking every class who uses those scores down even further, and at levels where Casting isn't that powerful. Paladins are never incredibly powerful unless you have an evil outsider campaign going on. The biggest issues with the execution are very much tired together (both what your targeting and what creates world weariness). I would sooner play an NPC class then a Divine Caster in your campaign with these rules in place.

World Weariness, as you've written up, is a fascinating idea with execution that would quite literally break certain classes in the game for using their class features. The problem is that it only really penalizes certain classes. Specifically all the divine classes and a few arcane classes. A fighter could reasonably ignore this while chugging healing potions (as could an alchemist) for at least a full health bar, if not more. I think the issue comes from the fact that you're targeting magical healing instead of the real source of exhaustion.... Everything else! XD

If I may make a suggestion, there is a way to make World Weariness effective against everyone equally without crippling healing (which, in pathfinder, already has enough problems don't ya think?)

Instead, I'd suggest a cumulative penalty that comes after each encounter past a certain amount each day. A straight -1 to everything after, say, your third fight/labor/magic heavy thing. Skills, attacks, damage, saves, AC. Not crippling, you can still push forward if it's a desperate enough thing, but a good reminder to rest, or to not drive your characters into holes.

Once you hit that -1, it's no longer every few fights. It's every fight. So after every fight after the -1 you get another -1.

Then your rules for losing said penalty come into affect.

This means that classes that generally rely on healing over other options (Paladins, Oracles, Clerics) don't end up getting crippled for doing what they're good at. At the same time Fighters, Wizards, Rogues, Rangers and the rest of the lot don't end up ignoring the penalties until they're really bad.

As far as the character goes, the moment I read dwarf and elf stuff I knew I wanted to create a dwarf. I don't know what sort of kingdom you have for them so I'm going off of the basic dwarfy stuff that I know. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong about any of them.

The concept I have in mind is a surprisingly charm Dwarf, someone whose at least decently intelligent and diplomatic. He's young, not quite an upstart but definitely not a veteran. Most of his skill comes from training with veterans actually. He is the third or fourth son of a prominent clan of warriors/crusaders, someone who has nothing to lose but everything to gain by making a name for himself.

There's also the fact that he was born and bred to enjoy the challenge. His clan/family have a very typical fantasy dwarf attitude toward problems and adversity. It makes you stronger. That said, they're surprisingly not all about just smashing their heads against rocks. They've got wit, some of them at least, and definitely this young Third Son. He's here to make a living, to kill evil things, to make a fortune, to make a name, to challenge himself, to grow and to do it all at the same time because why should he settle for just one of these?

I'm debating between two specific ideas. Not talking builds here, just directions. One is a guy focused more on intellect then charm. He's an alchemist, someone whose learned that brute strength isn't always enough, and who supports himself with magic. The other is as charming as he thinks he is and then some. A surprisingly diplomatic dwarf, a paladin of both tradition and ambition.

Perhaps he's competing with a Second Sibling for an inheritance, actually? The First Sibling has died, perhaps in this very place, and now the other siblings are all trying to figure out what they can do to become the next head of their clan? Puts a bit more fire beneath his arse I think.

While it is true that many Tieflings, no matter the culture, are often ridiculed and distrusted, Song was lucky. On the day of her birth the villagers debated what to do. Clearly the creature was an ill omen. Best to kill it now, before it could cause them harm some said. Others said that killing a child was wrong no matter the reason. Unfortunately the mother could not weigh in on the discussion, having died in child birth. This fact made it even harder to defend the babies life.

That was when a request came by way of a lost traveler. In return for delivering the message he had been given directions out of the forest. A spirit, a Kami, had asked him to tell the village...

'Do not discard the child. Give her to me.'

Many assumed that the Kami, a powerful spirit in it's own right, would simply do away with the child or perhaps cure her of her evil traits. It had another goal in mind however. The next time the village saw the child she was twelve years old and delivering a message for the Kami. A warning, in return for the gracious offerings that they had made to the forest spirit over the years. A great storm was coming and they needed to head to a nearby hill to avoid flooding. They would only have to wait their for a few days on the hill and they would be fine.

The village was wary, however. Oni's were known to play horrible tricks. If they left their village alone then they'd be leaving their things unprotected. They debated hotly whether or not too trust the creature, this horned girl with red eyes, when one of the villagers finally recognized her. The child they had given to the forest. Certainly she could be trusted, yes?

The village was wary but in the end they went to the hill. The storm came and instead of death only a bit of damage was done to homes. When they returned the buildings were all repaired within a week. The child was gone, however it would not be the last time they saw her. Every now and again she'd come by with a warning or a request. Each time the village flourished. Each time, the people came to trust her more and more.

For a while things seemed fine. Then a true Oni came. A creature of hate and violence. It attacked without warning, cutting down two of the villagers watchers in an instant. People screamed and blood stained the streets. The villagers wanted to run but found themselves paralyzed in fear. As the Oni stepped forward, it's long blade drenched in blood, they could do not but weep and prey...

Which is when the child stepped forward again. Though she was no longer a child, it seemed. Only a couple years had passed since they had seen her last but those who looked upon her now realized she had never stopped growing. The young woman landed before the crowd, putting herself between them and the Oni.

The dark spirit paused but only for a moment. She had red eyes and red horns, like him, but she was still small and weak. He would crush her. He stepped forward, raising his blade high, and in that moment the woman struck. Rushing forward a massive hand formed out of the air and reached for the creature. Claws dug into it's crude armor, raking at the Oni's flesh, and were quickly followed by large horns protruding from what appeared to be a wicked mask.

They gored him in his chest. But he was not done. He swung wildly, seeking to carve at the woman, but ethereal white hair seemed to stop his assault. The woman struck again. This time, as close as she was, there was nothing to hold her back. She tore through the Oni like paper.

The village was stunned into silence. Instead of fleeing, more had gathered around to watch the encounter. Now they stared at the young woman, who herself looked very near to the Oni in appearance with the floating claws and fangs and horns. Clearly, their fear had not fled them just yet, despite all she had done.

Then a child stepped forward, his eyes avoiding the bloody mess on the ground, and he bowed his head in thanks to her. The young woman smiled, the claws and monstrous head vanished, and she bowed back.

Though normally Song serves as the protector of villages bordering her home, something strange has occurred recently. Out of no where a patch of snow appeared in the forest. It was so remarkable not because snow here was impossible but because it wasn't the season for it. More over, the patch of winter, large as it was, did not cover even a quarter of the forest.

Something was wrong. The Kami of the Forest agreed. Something evil was waking. Song was told that she must go and find it, no matter how far and how wide the hunt would take her. Song, of course, obeyed. Now she is in parts of Golarion she had never been before, where things such as Kami's and Oni were quiet. Instead other evils and good creatures fought and vied for power.

Her search has finally brought her to Iobaria. She is a long way from home and mostly following vague rumors. She needs help.

Song is a very kind and respectful woman who has lived most her life serving an equally kind and respectful demigod. Though she has a strange name for it, calling the spirit a Kami, she has learned enough in her travels to know that not everyone understands what that means.

Despite being kind one would notice very quickly that Song is... a bit wild. Having grown up in a forest basic mannerisms tend to be a fleeting thing for her and she spends little time thinking about what she should say. More over, her Oni nature is particularly violent, and Song has a tendency to revel in combat when other kind hearted folk might balk.

At least she was raised to believe in helping others so that violent nature is often put toward fighting monsters or bandits or the like.

I downloaded the PDF for the players guide, read through what I could, and realized that there was an interesting line about these pockets of winter are appearing all over Golarion. Seemed like there might be quite a few people from around the world looking into them.

Song is a tough as nails Bloodrager with heavy supernatural raging abilities. She has the 'Abyssal' Bloodline, which I'm reflavoring as an Oni bloodline. Mechanically it's obviously going to stay the same but fluff wise instead of actually growing large she gets some ethereal looking features when she gets bigger in the style of an Oni. She doesn't have much in the way of armor but she has a lot of hit points and DR/5- while raging. Very tough frontliner.

Much of what she's been taught over the years was by a Forest Spirit, or a Kami, of her lands. This means that skill wise, aside from some physical stuff, she can handle herself nicely tracking down folks and providing nature knowledge.

I did go with average hit points. Wasn't sure if we rolled those or not.

[] = While Raging

Song Yuen
Female Tiefling (Oni-Spawn) Bloodrager (Primalist) 8
NG Medium [Large] Outsider (Native)
Init +2; Senses Darkvision 60ft; Scent (While raging); Perception +12
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Defense
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AC 15 [11], touch 12, flat-footed 14 (+4 armor, +1 Dex)
hp 104 [126] (8d10+56)
Fort +13 [15], Ref +6, Will +5 [+7]
Resist Cold 5, Electricity 5, and Fire 5
DR DR 1/- [DR 5/-]
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Offense
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Speed 40 ft.
Reach 5ft [10 ft]
Melee Bite +14 (1d6+8/x2)
[While Raging]
Claws x2 +16 (2d6+10/x2)

Full Round Power Attack
Bite +13 (1d8+14/x2), Claws x2 +13 (2d6+14/x2)

Bloodrager (Primalist) Spells (CL 8):
Level 1 (2/day) [i]Cheetah’s Sprint, Feather Fall, Long Arm, Magic Missile, Ray of Enfeeblement[/]
Level 2 (1/day) [i]Animal Aspect, Mindshock, See Invisibility[/]
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Statistics
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Str 20 [26], Dex 12 [10], Con 18 [24], Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 12
Base Atk +8, +3; CMB +13; CMD 27
Feats Extra Rage, Eschew Materials, Power Attack, Raging Vitality, Toughness x2
Traits Militia Veteran (Survival), Secret Knowledge (Nature)
Skills Acrobatics +12 (+16 for jumps), Climb +15, Knowledge (Nature) +14, Perception +17, Profession: Guard +12, Profession: Shrine Priest +12, Survival +14 (+19 when tracking), Swim +16
Languages Common, ???
Other Gear Cloak of Resistance +2 (4k), Belt of Strength +2 (4k), Amulet of Mighty Fists +1 (4k), Headband of Charisma +2 (4k), Wand of Wand of Infernal Healing 50/50 (750 gp), Lens of Detection (3.5k)
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Special Abilities
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Bloodline - Oni (Abyssal Reflavored)
--Claws (Su) At 1st level, you grow claws while bloodraging. These claws are treated as natural weapons, allowing you to make two claw attacks as a full attack, using your full base attack bonus. These attacks deal 1d6 points of damage each (1d4 if you are Small) plus your Strength modifier. At 4th level, these claws are considered magic weapons for the purpose of overcoming damage resistance. At 8th level, the damage increases to 1d8 points.
--Demonic Bulk (Su) At 4th level, when entering a bloodrage, you can choose to grow one size category larger than your base size (as enlarge person) even if you aren’t humanoid.
--Bloodline Bonus Feat Power Attack
Fast Movement (Ex) A bloodrager’s land speed is faster than is normal for his race by 10 feet.
Uncanny Dodge (Ex) At 2nd level, a bloodrager can react to danger before his senses would normally allow him to do so. He cannot be caught flat-footed, nor does he lose his Dexterity bonus to AC if the attacker is invisible.
Blood Sanctuary (Su) At 3rd level, due to the power of his blood, a bloodrager can stand confidently amid the effects of spells cast by himself or his allies. He gains a +2 bonus on saving throws against spells that he or an ally casts.
Blood Casting (Su) At 4th level, the bloodrager gains the ability to cast spells even while bloodraging. He can also cast these spells defensively and can make concentration checks for these spells while bloodraging.
Eschew Materials At 4th level, the bloodrager gains Eschew Materials as a bonus feat
Improved Uncanny Dodge (Ex) At 5th level, a bloodrager can no longer be flanked. This defense denies rogues (or other classes with the sneak attack ability) the ability to sneak attack the bloodrager by flanking him, unless the attacker has at least four more rogue levels (or levels in the class granting sneak attack) than the target has bloodrager levels.
Damage Reduction (Ex)
Primal Choices: Gain two rage powers in place of one Bloodline Ability. Swapped out Demon Resistances (Su) for Increased Damage Reduction (Ex) from Unchained Barbarian, taking the Rage Power twice.
--Increased Damage Reduction (Ex): The barbarian’s damage reduction increases by 2/— whenever she is raging.

As far back as Anthony could remember life had one rule. Don't get caught. Stealing bread? Don't get caught. Slipping through a gangs territory? Don't get caught. It was a pretty simple rule and it was one that Anthony learned to live by very quickly. She didn't know why she had to, for a while. She didn't understand the complexity of being a child no one wanted at first. All that mattered was survival.

Until the day she came across a bard.

The story he was telling seemed to bore many of those around him to tears but to Anthony, who had never heard it's like before, the complex weave he wove called. She sat in her hiding spot and listened well past any reasonable hour, when others had vanished and it seemed like the Bard was performing for no one. His tales of heroic warriors going to save helpless damsels kept her occupied long after the bard had finally given up and moved on. She dreamt of being in such a story, of slaying monsters with a long thin blade and a funny quip, of saving lives... Naturally she placed herself in the heroes shoes, the person rescuing the Damsel. Not that she knew what a damsel was at the time.

Still, on that day Anthony had found something that mattered to her just as much as survival, if not more! She wanted to be a hero. The fame and coin was a nice bonus but in truth she simply wanted to adventure, to be someone saving lives. It was a goal that would carry her beyond the streets, driving her to become something more then a simple Vagabond child.

From that day forth Anthony did her best to seek out opportunity. And where there were none to be had she made her own. First was swordfighting. She could ill afford a trainer and she was far to young to become a soldier, but time was an enemy to her young mind. So she found a stick and a rich merchant with an open yard and too much free time on his hands. There she watched the pudgy man as he learned from his instructor. Then she would find a private place and proceed to practice everything she had seen.

Next was reading and writing. Though Anthony was loathe to admit it, the truth was obvious. No Hero could be a Hero without the basics. So she found a school where the merchants sent their kids and, sitting in the rafters, proceeded to study alongside them. She had to steal paper, ink and a quill now and again but the students were disorganized enough that some missing supplies was never remarked upon.

And she learned. Oh boy did she learn. She spent so much time practicing and studying that she never had a chance to seek another bard out for more stories. She was too busy readying herself for her own. It was not enough though. No matter how much she practiced and how much she learned there was a clear barrier between her and her first real adventure. All the skills in the world would not put a sword in her hands. She needed coin.

This last part was the hardest. She barely managed a couple copper pennies a week, just enough to feed her and nothing more. She could try and steal from a wealthier merchant but there was a risk there. Merchants with enough gold to steal from went to the guard when it went missing. It made her decision difficult but she saw no other way. Anthony needed a job. Unfortunately thieving wasn't exactly a marketable skill. Door to door she went asking for work, risking pain and worse should a particular person take offense at her question. Merchants, craftsman and even a gang when she started to feel desperate. They all said no. She was too young, too small, too weak, too stupid. Their reasons varied but in truth came from the same place. They saw nothing but the Vagabond. No matter that she knew her numbers and letters, that she had practiced day and night with that wooden stick till she had some actual muscle.

It frustrated Anthony. She nearly gave up. Weeks of searching turned up nothing. Anthony felt as if time was running out. Barely twelve, she knew that the longer it took the less likely she was to break free of the streets.This time it was not determination, nor intelligence, nor wit that got Anthony what she sought. All those were important things to have as a Hero but there was on more that she needed to truly thrive in such a dangerous business. By pure happenstance Anthony was overheard pleading her case to an alchemist, telling the older man that she could and would do her best if only for a few silver a week. A man with pointed ears and ancient looking eyes entered the shop at that time and strode to the counter with a ticket. The Alchemist, seeing business at hand, shooed the girl away and went into the back to get whatever the elf was here for.

But while he was back there, the strangely young looking man with old eyes turned to the girl. "You can write." He said. "Can you do it well?"

Anthony was stunned and for a moment didn't know how to reply. When it became clear by an arched brow that the man was waiting for an answer, she quickly dove into her pocket with one hand and pulled out her work for the week. She offered the paper to him. He studied it for a moment, paying no mind to the dirt or the wrinkles, and then handed it back to her. "I've seen worse." He reached into a pocket and produced a slip of paper of his own. He offered it to her. "Go to this address tomorrow morning. Sunrise. If you are late, the door will be locked. If you are on time I will have work for you."

At that moment the Alchemist returned with a package and offered it to the elf. Seeing that Anthony was still there, the man behind the counter shooed her away. The girl scrambled out of the store clutching the small, thin paper with instructions tightly to her chest.

The next day Anthony arrived at the address an hour early. She had been up half the night cleaning herself at one of the local wells. A good impression was important, she had over heard once. She had already ruined the first when she met the man but now, hopefully, she could do better. The building was at the end of the street. It was surprisingly small, only a single story, and it's two windows were devoid of light. Had she come to early? There was no turning back now. Without hesitation, Anthony knocked... Or tried too.

The door swung open before her fist could connect.

Surprised, she stepped inside and looked around. As she did lights sprung to life, candles that had been dead now flickering with fire. Anthony nearly jumped. The door closed behind her. For a moment she stood in the hallway, uncertain what to do. Then she followed the light.

The light lead to the first room on the left. Opening the door, Anthony came face to face with something... Fascinating. Anthony had never seen so many books in her life. It was beyond amazing. There was also a desk, a small desk with a few candles near it and a chair sized for someone of her height. Anthony approached and saw a note. It simply said, 'Start at A. Carefully copy each text. When you are out of paper, you are done for the day.'

She looked up to the shelf of books and saw at the very top the letter A on the wood. Her eyes widened in surprise as she turned to look at all the books. Every wall was lined with shelves from floor to ceiling. She spent a moment, and only a moment, wondering just what the point was. Then she went to work copying the first book. And so each day went. At first the work was so strange that Anthony was alone in that home from sun up till sundown before she ran out of paper. As the weeks passed though her hand grew quicker and with it her mind. She went from finishing a book in two weeks to a book in a few days. She also started to learn from the books. Each text had fascinating things within that Anthony had never heard of before.

After six months, Anthony had successfully managed to use up all the paper provided to her in hours, leaving her plenty of time to return to her other tasks. For the first week she was worried that perhaps the man might not pay her but at the end of seven days, after the work had been done, she found a pouch waiting at the door with a silver coin. And so she found after each week another silver coin waiting for her. At first she hoarded them like treasure but as time went on she came to spend them, carefully. She still saved as much as she could, her goal always within sight, but she could not resist buying better clothing and food now that she could.

Three years passed. In that time, both the amount of work she was asked to do and the amount of silver she was paid increased. She even learned a couple languages simply from inscribing them! At the end of three years she had finished the entire room and had never felt more proud or sad. She had never seen the elven man again but he still gave her this job and for it to be ending so soon did bother her so. If she had put any thought into it perhaps she might have worried less though. On the day she finished the last book a note was waiting for her at the door. 'Return tomorrow. Start room 2.'

Room 2? Curious, Anthony turned back around and followed the hallway to the second door. It opened beneath her touch. Another room waited for her, another desk more appropriately sized now that she had grown, and another four walls covered in books. Smiling Anthony headed back out again, happy to know she would still have work on the morrow.

She would learn the next day, however, that room 2 was nothing like room 1. The books were not written in other languages. In fact, they barely had any words at all. For the most part they written in numbers. Complex equations littered each page and it was hard enough simply writing them to paper again that for the first few days Anthony did nothing but copy. Her mind was too quick to be satisfied at that, however. Just as she had the new languages she began to absorb what she was writing. It was slow going. Each bit took months. But by the end of another year, after successfully copying four books, Anthony had come to understand exactly what she was scribing this time.

Rather then books on any random subject beneath the sun Anthony was copying to a page magic. Real Magic. It wasn't long after this revelation that, upon finishing her work one day, she opened the first book again to see if she could make heads or tails of it. After that came trying to replicate it. Then came trying the spells in question out. They... did not work... But they did not fail to produce any result either. Instead of the intended consequence, creating a small orb of light, Anthony had created several small bubbles. It was enough to convince Anthony she was on the right track though and so she continued her experiments, careful to make sure nothing was out of place when she was done.

After seven years of working for the man without seeing hide nor hair of him, Anthony was certain she never would. Clearly he came here, who else would he trust to check the work and leave coin, but just as clearly he waited until Anthony was gone. At first this was strange. Anthony knew it wasn't like how most jobs went. As time went on she became used to it and started to learn that his absence was not, necessarily, a cruel thing. If anything the small kindnesses he showed by offering her comfortable chairs, ensuring the home was warm in the winter and even increasing her wage every single time he asked more work of her made him one of the kindest people she had ever met.

So on the day she heard of his death, Anthony was distraught. She had been on her way to the home to do another round of copying, while also puzzling out in her head a new spell, when a crier on the corner called out, "Wizard Salar slain in ally! Guards seek anyone with answers!"

She heard and saw the name so infrequently, since he didn't even sign his notes, that for a moment more Anthony kept walking. When it hit her, it hit her hard, and she spun about to stare at the crier on the corner. The young lad continued to yell about daily events and would likely get back to that story before long, but Anthony was running down the road long before he had finished the second headline. She arrived at the home and found the door unlocked once more. She swung it open, frantically looking for some sign that the crier was wrong.

Instead she found, waiting on the table where her coin normally sat, a pouch, a letter and a book. She dove for the second and opened it fast enough she almost tore the paper. What she saw was... typical of her employer. 'You are reading this because I am dead. This is the third such note I've written since I hired you. On the table is a pouch with your last payment and a spellbook I had made for you. Take them and leave this city. Tell no one of you worked for me. Be safe.'

Anthony felt numb. The world felt wrong. Her mind simply did not understand, nor did it want too. Instead of following the directions Anthony went to her desk in the second room. She was barely a third of the way through all the books. She sat down, holding the book left for her with her name written in gold lettering on the cover, and waited for the nightmare to end.

It was night when she was woken by a thumping sound Bleary eyed, she looked around the room for the source of the noise that had stirred her. She almost thought it was her imagination but then it happened again. Certain of what she heard this time Anthony carefully stood up and made her way toward the door. Peaking her head out, she looked left and right. The noise repeated itself. It was coming from across the hall, from a room she had never gone into before. Normally it was locked by tonight the door was ajar.

Anthony stepped forward, curious, worried. She peaked her head inside and she saw... Three men. Three large men, in fact. They were rifling through a room that looked almost exactly like the one she had left. Each one would pull a book off the shelves and then toss it aside. The thumping sound she had heard. Seeing the books treated that way annoyed Anthony and before her mind could process what she was about to do she kicked the door open further and conjured a spell. As light filled the air and her body glowed with magical light, she shouted, "What the hell are you doing to those books?"

The smallest turned to her and he offered her a wicked smile. "Ah. The apprentice. I was wondering when you'd turn up. You're... a bit young but hopefully you'll still be able to help us."

Apprentice? No, she was a scribe. Well, she had learned from Salar's books and he had left her a spellbook but that didn't really make her... "That really depends on who the hell you are. Don't try anything either," She scowled and raised a hand threateningly, "I can do more then make lights."

The small man, who was not that small, particularly compared to Anthony, continued smiling. "Of course, of course. I would never dream of it. Simply tell me where it is and there will be no trouble."

"Where... where what is?" Anthony demanded.

The smile flickered, faltered, but then reaffirmed itself. "IT. You know. You can't have been his apprentice for seven years and NOT know. Tell me where IT is... or we show you just how little we think of your magic tricks."

Anthony suddenly seemed to realize just how dangerous her predicament was. She wasn't helpless, particularly not with the magic armor clinging to her, but she was outnumbered and unarmed... and neither seemed to be a problem for the three thugs, she realized, as they drew blades. She took care to think of her next plan and then recalled that she had left her book in the other room. Damn it, she wasn't going to leave without it. She nodded slowly, "Alright. I'll... it's over here."

Anthony was not a good liar and she wasn't banking on them believing her. All she needed was a second of hesitation to grab the door and slam it shut behind her. She felt a satisfying click as the magic in the door locked itself immediately, something she had known would happen thanks to her ability to see the spell and how it worked. Then she ran. First she dove into the second room and grabbed her book, the pouch and even the note. Then she sprinted toward the front door. Just as she passed it, the door was smashed open behind her. Anthony did not look back, escaping into the open air of the night. Once more she kicked the door shut behind her, hoping it had the same enchantment as the others, and made feet through the streets.

She didn't stop moving for hours. It changed shape as her instincts kicked in and she found herself trying to hide rather then draw attention to herself, but she never stopped moving until she was certain no one had found her. Then, tired, her strongest magic expended for the day, Anthony found sleep in a back alley.

When the sun rose she was not ready to greet it but she forced herself too anyway. Bleary eyed, tired, and still worn down from the news of the day before Anthony spent a bit of time memorizing the spells she wanted ready for the day and then headed out. She was greeted by the din of the crowd moving through the streets and the sound of the criers. For a while she put them both out of her mind, her goals already planned out. Then she heard something she had not expected to hear shouted from one of the young men waving papers about. "Apprentice kills master! Young woman implicated in the death of Wizard Salar."

That was not good. Anthony immediately nixed the first three stops she wanted to make and headed for the only blacksmith she knew of in this part of the city. He... bartered hard, sensing her desperation, and in the end she parted with 30 gold for something she knew he would have sold for 20. She didn't have time to argue though. She paid the price and then quickly made her way to the docks. The next part of her plan was going to be dicey and if she was caught it would mean death. But if she didn't do it, if she stayed here, it would mean being blamed for Salar's death. She couldn't bear the thought.

She made her way to the cities port and purchased herself passage on a ship. Then she did it again three minutes later. Each time she made herself very visible, though each time she was also careful to have her style noticeably different. The first time her book was in hand and her newest package carefully entangled in her bag, making it harder to discern what it was. The second time the book was away, the package neatly over her shoulder and her newest item comfortably rested on her hip for all to see.

Sure enough as she made her way through those arriving and departing she saw signs of the three from the night before. They were hard to miss, as big as they were. And sure enough they had spotted her too.

When time came for the ships to be boarded Anthony made her way to the docks. She spent a moment readjusting herself and then boarded... Then, the moment she was onboard the ship, she pointed toward the docks below and whispered. Bright lights flared to life on the dock and even a spark of fire. Everyone turned toward the noise and at that moment Anthony made herself vanish. The next trick was going to be harder. She ran for the edge of the ship, praying it would be close enough to roof jumping that she could make it, and then she leapt. She made it. Barely. Pulling her light frame up, Anthony quickly made her way through the crowd looking down at the docks and then off the ship again.

This time, careful to blend in, Anthony made her way to the last ship at the pier. Though she was loathe to put someone else in a poor position she managed to slip her hand into a pocket and come out with the ticket she needed. She boarded quickly and vanished below deck, ignoring the guilt she felt as the person behind her was told they couldn't come aboard. Hopefully the 25 pieces of gold she had left, more then double the price of the ticket, would make up for the theft. Now below deck she found a corner to sit in and waited. It was all she could do. Either they would come aboard and take her away or the ship would set sail.

She sat there and draped her new Rapier across her legs. It was just like the weapon the Bard had spoken of in the stories. It was the weapon she had been learning to use for seven years, though she had never picked one up. When she was certain no one else would approach, wary of the blade, she let herself curl up and mourn for a lost friend.

The ship left port undettered. She had made her escape and hopefully sent any pursuit on a wild goose chase to other cities. As for Anthony? She had to check the half of the ticket she had left to see what her destination was.

Pridon's Hearth. She had never heard of it. Hopefully she could do some good there to make up for the lack she had done here. Maybe, one day, even become a real Hero instead of a coward.

So the mechanics do come with a question. Would I be able to use the Bladed Scarf Dancer archetype, but with a Rapier instead of a Scarf? I'd even be willing to take a Rapier that only has a 20/x2 crit range. It's not for cheese or anything like that. The idea of a Duelist with a bit of magic is what I'm going for and the Kensai is way to focused on super critting, giving up all the other fun stuff a Magus gets for it.

Anthony
Female Human Magus (Bladebound/Duelist?) 1
NG Medium Humanoid (Human)
Init +4; Senses Perception +5
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Defense
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AC 15, touch 15, flat-footed 10 (+4 Dex, +1 Int)
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +3, [ b]Ref [/b]+4, [ b]Will [/b]+2
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee Rapier +4 (1d6+4 18-20/x2)
Special Attacks Spell Combat - Rapier +2 1d6+4, Cast Spell of Standard Action
Magus(Bladebound/Duelist) Spells Prepared (CL 1):
Level 0 Detect Magic, Prestidigitation, Read Magic
Level 1 (1/day) Mage Armor
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Statistics
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Str 8, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 12
Base Atk +0; CMB +4; CMD 13
Feats Weapon Focus- Light Blades, Fencing Grace, Additional Traits
Traits Reckless, Seeker, Vagabond Child
Skills Acrobatics +9, Knowledge (Arcana) +7, Perception +5, Profession (Scribe) +4, Sleight of hand +9, Spellcraft +7, Stealth +10, Survival +6
Languages Common, Elven, Draconic, Dwarven
Other Gear Rapier, Fine Clothes, Spellbook, 5 GP, 0 SP, 0 CP
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Special Abilities
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Practicied Hunter (Racial) Members of some human cultures train from youth to find and follow the trails of vital game and at the same time hide the evidence of their own passage. These humans gain a +2 racial bonus on Stealth and Survival checks, and Stealth and Survival are always class skills for them.

Arcane Pool (Su) (4/day) Expend 1 point from her arcane pool as a swift action to grant any weapon she is holding a +1 enhancement bonus for 1 minute.

Spell Combat (Ex) A fullround action take a -2 penalty to your attack in order to cast a spell with a casting time of Standard action. Must have one hand free. If casting defensively can take further attack penalty, up to 3, to increase concentration check by 3.

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Spellbook
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0 lvl-Acid Splash, Arcane Mark, Dancing Lights, Daze, Detect Magic, Disrupt Undead, Flare, Ghost Sound, Light, Mage Hand, Open/Close, Prestidigitation, Ray of Frost, Read Magic, Spark
1st lvl-Chill Touch, Mage Armor, Hydraulic Push, Obscuring Mist, Shocking Grasp, Vanish

He had a mother, once. A young woman who was kind and happy. She served drinks at a bar. Everyone knew her name and everyone was happy around her. Her uplifting smile was second only to her angelic voice and her flowing dance. When he was born it was said her smile had never been brighter. No matter how hard it got in this oasis town in the harsh deserts she never stopped smiling and singing and dancing.

It is unfortunate that Nicholas does not recall one wit of this. His mother died when he was young, too young to remember. His first memory is not of a smile or a song but of the bleak reality of the orphanage where he lived. Or rather... a conversation he overheard when he was left there.

There were few children here. The town was a peaceful place. Accidents that happened normally left children with a single parent or friends or neighbors. Despite having friends and neighbors both, none took in Nicholas, and so he was brought here.

He remembered staring out a window wondering where he was. Confused, he looked for a familiar face, and saw two. One, the old priest on the hill and the second the owner of the bar where his mother worked. Not that Nicholas knew at the time who they were other then friendly.

They weren't so friendly this time though. They were huddled together. Nicholas moved closer, curious to hear what they were saying.

'Tis a shame that... to die so young...' The Priest said, his head hung low.

'Is it true?' The bar owner demanded, 'Have they still not caught the monster who did it?'

'Yes... it is true... Her killer runs free to this day. If only the boys father were here. He might have been able to do something.'

'That deadbeat probably doesn't even know he has a son.'

At the time, Nicholas did not understand. All he knew was that he was lonely and wanted his mother. He walked forward and asked where she was. The two adults turned away, their faces filled with shame.

For two years Nicholas stayed at that church, at that orphanage. The single priest who took care of it, a man of Sarenrae, did his best to teach and care for the boy. But there was something missing and the longer it stayed missing the more it hurt. It wasn't until She came that he knew what it was.

She was older, grey haired and stone faced. She came to the church and spoke to the priest. At first they argued. Nicholas had long learned to respect the older mans privacy. Naturally, he was close by listening as soon as possible. Unfortunately the conversation was over by the time he had snuck into position. Then the woman marched right toward where he hid.

'I am your grandmother. I am here to take you.'

Family? Nicholas hadn't know he had any left. The idea scared him but also excited him. He went along willingly, though at his age it was not like he had a choice. The last thing he saw was the man who had spent the last two years caring for him mournfully waving at him. At the time Nicholas did not understand but he learned quickly.

She was taking him away from the town, to the edge of the deserts! They traveled long and hard and by the end of it Nicholas had never been so fit nor so tired. It was only the beginning though. When they arrived at their destination, Nicholas was immediately put to work. Hard work. At first he complained but he learned quickly what that got him. More weeks passed and each day Nicholas felt worse then the last...

Until he didn't. The lifting, carrying, pushing and pulling had slowly but surely built muscle upon his young body. When the tasks set before him stopped hurting, when the physical exertion was almost fun, that was when things got worse again. He went from labor to training. He was taught to move silently, taught to fight with any number of blades and even taught some small magics.

It wasn't until a year had pass, exactly, that an explanation was offered. Nicholas was a hero. He had been born of a great man and he would go on to do great things. He needed to learn, to be prepared, because the mission ahead of him would be hard and harsh and bloody. Nicholas, who had only ever heard of his father in whispered, harsh words, who could not recall even his mothers smile, drank in this story from his Grandmother like a boy dying of thirst.

What was his mission he asked?

For a long while his Grandmother remained silent, as if weighing whether to tell him. Finally she said in a low voice, a whisper that feared being over heard, 'Your mission is both grand and personal. You must find the one who killed your mother, who has done great harm to others, who yet pretends to be a hero...'

'You must find Connac Aevell... and you must kill him.'

Knowing the truth made it easier. He saw to it that his Grandmother never regretted telling him. What had been desperate attempts at trying to survive the training before became unbridled focus and determination. He no longer learned, he became. Every lesson taught was something he absorbed and in time, in time, he grew.

The day came on the eve of his thirteenth birthday. Connac Aevell had been found. He needed to go there, needed to take the mans life. His Grandmother did not wish him luck or well but she did not need too. She gifted him supplies and that was all he needed from her to know that she wanted his success.

Nicholas set off toward the distant town. For the first time in his life he left the desert. It was during this journey that he began to realize just how strange he was. Not just his darker skin, which stood out amongst the many paler folk of the forests and plains, but his skill as well. As he moved he did some good deeds along the way. If his Grandmother were there to ask he would have told her it was to stay in practice but in truth he simply liked helping people.

His journey came to an end all too soon though. He found where Connac was and proceeded to study the mans every movement. He waited in the shadows until the right moment to strike. He planned out of his every move, including how to escape.

He lay in wait... and then he struck!

Only to be rebuffed. The man moved with speed Nicholas could not match, diving aside and drawing his own blade in response. The moment was gone but the mission was still on so Nicholas pressed silently.

Connac did not remain silent though. 'Who are you? You seem familiar.' He called, receiving no answer. "A bit young to be an assassin don't you think?'

Nicholas' only reply was a blade to the man's heart, which was parried with some skill. The bard tried again and again and though his pleas sounded earnest the young man refused to give in. His Grandmother had told him the truth, told him that Connac was a liar and a deceiver that could not be trusted. Nicholas was losing though. He needed to make an opening. His mind came up with a way and he charged, yelling out for the first time, 'For Riya Shirai! For my mother!'

Whether or not Connac recognized the name was uncertain but the man was clearly stunned by the shout. His blade was already in place to parry a strike from the side and so in his surprised state he failed to move in time to stop the dagger to his gut. That was when Nicholas acted, shifting out of the visible range. It was only for a moment but in that moment the young man was able to reposition himself without the Connac being able to counter. It meant Nicholas impaling himself on the blade but if it meant the death of such a wicked man then it would be worth his own life.

He felt the pain and felt his bloody leave him. He did not feel himself fall, though. One moment he was standing, smiling, and the next he was on the ground bleeding to death. Connac had let go of his sword. He could feel it still in his gut. It hurt to move. It hurt to breathe. The pain was all he could feel as he started to drift away.

And then... and then...

And then the pain receded. Was he dying? Probably. Why else would the pain ebb? Nicholas did not fight it. He let himself be pulled into the painless void... Only to find that it was not a void, not devoid of sensation. He still felt pain, still felt exhaustion, but it was simply less. Nicholas fought to open his eyes, fought to discover who was saving him. Had his Grandmother found him? Was it...

His eyes opened. The sun hurt but he ignored the light stabbing into his eyes and tried to focus on the silhouette hovering over him. Who? Who could it... Connac? Connac Aevell? Indeed it was. The finely dressed man loomed over him, his expression full of horror and worry. His hand was pressed down into Nicholas' side and it glowed with a gentle, bright light. 'Come on now kid, don't die on me. There's no way in hells I'm going to let Shirai's kid die...'

Nicholas lost consciousness then. It was hard to say if it was the confusion of being saved by the man he had come to kill or simply the pain he was in but either way he was gone. When he awoke, it was to a familiar place, though only thanks to his weeks of studying Connac. The mans home. He was in a guest bed, wearing simple garb. His weapons were no where to be seen but he was not chained or restrained in anyway.

Tentatively he made his way out of the room and down the stairs. There, drinking what smelled like some strong ale, was Connac. He looked up and the mix of emotions on his face was hard to read. Finally he settled on a polite smile. 'Welcome back. You look... well you look like you recently impaled yourself on a sword but I'm sure you'll bounce right back soon enough.'

'I... I don't understand.'

'Sit. We... need to talk.'

And so Nicholas sat. And so Connac explained what he knew. Years ago, thirteen years ago in fact, he was in a desert with a group of friends. They were resting then. Their journey had been hard thus far. Or at least Connac assumed they were. As drunk as he tried to be it was hard to recall. It was there, during one of his nightly binges, that he met a woman with a voice that surpassed his own and a dance that could at least match his skills. The courtship was brief, fun and happy, but in the end he had to go. After... after defeating the Red Priest of Windswept Wastes, the heart of the harsh desert lands, he sought out the town where he had been in the hopes of finding her. Instead he found the town covered in sand, ruined by a sandstorm. Assuming the worst he left. But he never forgot her. Never forgot Riya Shirai.

Nicholas sat across the table fuming. He wanted to grab a piece of silverware and jump at the man. The only thing preventing him was the knowledge that his wounds would open again.

Connac did not miss the anger and doubt and with a smile did the one thing he could think of to prove his story. From the air itself he called fourth an image of a woman, a dark skinned woman with a smile like the sun. Nicholas froze as the image turned to him and began singing. He had forgotten. How could he have ever forgotten?

When the song came to an end Nicholas was crying. Connac slid a cup across the table. 'I'm sorry... son.'

It's been five years since Nicholas and Connac's fateful encounter. In that time the young boy grew into a fine man. Not a day went by after his recovery that he did not train with Connac. The knowledge that someone out there wanted his father dead and would now want him dead too was a constant source of motivation. The fact that Connac even dispelled another lie, saying that Shirai herself had been an orphan, only fed the young mans determination to not be caught unaware.

Strangely enough Connac refused to act, at least at first. His son was here now, he said, and he was not going to make the same mistake twice. When Nicholas was old enough they would find this person together. Only... only the day they were ready to set out, the day that Nicholas turned eighteen, a shadowy figure took his fathers life.

Helpless, Nicholas could only watch in horror as Connac bled out in his arms. The mans final request was heard. Nicholas knew what he had to do. Find the Band of the Black Banner. Get them back together. With their help, Nicholas would surely find the one who killed his father.

Nicholas has taken after both his mother and father in many ways. He appears fair and lean, his voice is melodic, and his eyes are the bright Sapphire of his father. Despite the carefree attitude of both his parents, Nicholas has led a very strange life, and is a bit more serious then either of them. Recent years have taught him the value of levity but he could never quite cut lose like Connac could. He is a good man though, albeit young, and is determined to leave a heroic mark on the world like his father before him.

Sir Gabriel Brightscale, as he likes to be called, was found standing in a small, burning crater north of a moderately sized town looking confused two years ago. When asked who he was, he gave his name willingly and openly, and then made a claim that would had half of those that found him laughing and the others skeptical.

He claims he is a Dragon of olden times. A real dragon. That, like the norse gods, his people were a race from beyond the stars that visited this world. In rare instances they became gods but in truth and others villains. The fact that he could actually change as well, take on a draconic appearance and fangs and wings, led credence to his claim. He could even take the form of a tiny creature that resembled a Dragon in shape.

And when he proceeded to hunt down a murderer, talk down a robbery and even save a man wishing to take his own life within the very next week of his arrival few thought to complain. So he is a Dragon, they say. So what. There are stranger things in the world. Before long his tale spread and naturally some heard it. His obviously heroic nature attracted the right sort and soon shield was knocking on the door the Town folk had given him for his bravery.

They were surprised when he told them he was expecting them. His story, he said, was simple. He is on a mission. Earth is in danger and from more then just the rifts. The exact nature of it was beyond the eyes of even the elders of his people but they sent him here, as the youngest warrior, the only capable of fitting through the rifts in space. He was told to wait near where he arrived for the guardians bearing shields would arrive.

The story was outstanding but nothing shield hadn't heard before. The problem came down to one element. They were willing to believe, based on his word alone, that he was here to fight the good fight. They were even willing to take his word that there was a danger coming, though the vague nature of it left them suspicious. The problem came when they revealed that after weeks of frantic investigation, they had found nothing proving Gabriel's story.

Though they can't say for certain, since it is certainly a wide universe out there, the fact is that Shield had made it their business to find out everything they could. Sometimes it took a while but eventually answers came and other visitors on the planet could corroborate stories.

Not so for Gabriel. The man looked confused, but then proudly professed his claim again. No questioning would deter him from this belief but the utter certainty that the agents had did worry the man. They explained that powers could come from any number of sources. Gabriel brushed off the idea as if it were nothing and went with them to aid in their battle against the growing meta threat.

As time went on though Gabriel started to run into something peculiar. He would encounter beings that should know of his people, beings that had legends of his kind just like Earth did... and yet they knew nothing. At first it was strange but easy to ignore. As the months passed, however, it became more and more disconcerting. At one point he encountered someone he was certain he had met on the way to earth, yet the being claimed to have never seen him before...

Doubt plagued Gabriel's mind. Was this the work of the threat somehow undermining even the memories of his kind? Then why did Earth still recall? Or was it simply Gabriel, a mad man who had convinced himself of his 'grand importance'?

Doubt became desperation as he questioned his own memories more and more. And then he heard a story from one of the agents he worked alongside. A human martial artist who claimed to have some connection to Dragons. Doubt washed away and immediately he sought out this warrior, this Akio Tashi.

To give you an idea of where I was coming from I wanted to create an 'out of myth' sort of concept, much like Thor. Since this is D&D I decided to take a bit of inspiration. So Dragons. Shapeshifting dragons, yeah, but dragons! A heroic gold scaled man claiming a knights title and name, a warrior who seeks to defend the Earth and the many people on it. From there, I wanted to give him a unique problem, one that you wouldn't think would really be a problem. First, I gave him a vague mission and threat, and then I took away the one thing that might make him seem credible.

As far as Earth and any creature that has visited it so far is concerned, his race doesn't exist! It gets even stranger as the character actually encounters beings he met on the way to Earth who seem to have no memory of him. The question is thus. Is he mad? Or is this the work of the dark enemy he's supposed to be fighting? If the latter, what sort of enemy could do that? And if the former... who is he really? His story is such that there's room for doubt all the way until there is a definitive answer from another source.

So with a dilemna in mind with lots of potential for payoff, I set about connecting him to the current story in a vague way. He hears about a man, through his contact in Shield, that has contacted a Dragon himself. As the doubts grow he feels compelled to find this man.

Mechanically he will be a Bardbarian (Bard Barbarian). I know I could play the Skald but the truth is that it doesn't quite give the flavor of unstoppable juggernaught-yness that I was hoping for. He'll help on the front lines, dishing out pain and buffs at the same time. Mostly though his focus will be as a wall. Hopefully. I won't be messing much with natural attacks. He's got a bite and he'll use it, but I don't want the crazy that one can see with adding more.

Outside of combat he'll be able to provide literal super strength thanks to a barbarian rage stance called 'Strength Stance'. He'll also have minor shapeshifting abilities for scouting (and eventually for fighting) and be able to provide some first aid, though nothing too powerful. A wand of cure light wounds will probably be his main tool there. His greatest strength outside of combat will, ironically, not be his strength but his Diplomacy and Intimidation. As a 'Dragon Herald' bard he adds half his level to both, making him pretty persuasive. Finally he should be able to provide some magic expertise. Some.

I used the Skinwalker (Werebat) as a base and flipped some things around. Since the Skinwalker after Errata (i.e. after it's weakness was removed) is a 12 RP creature I had to take some things out. In the end, I just decided to take even more out and have fun with it. While the Ability Score seems a bit off, it's actually just the regular ability score stats (+2 to a physical, +2 to a mental, -2 to your choice), only slightly more restricive since the physical bonus only comes in the dragon form.

'Dragon' Race stats
Ability Score Racial Traits: +2 Charisma, -2 Wisdom [+2 Strength]
Size: 'Dragons' are Medium creatures and have no bonuses or penalties due to their size.
Type: 'Dragons' are humanoids with the 'Draconic' and shapechanger subtypes.
Base Speed: Dragon's have a base speed of 30 feet.
Languages: Dragon's speak Common and Draconic. With high Intelligence scores can choose any languages they want (except secret languages, such as Druidic).
Feat and Skill Racial Traits
Natural Armor (2 RP)
Improved Natural Armor (1 RP)
Bite (1 RP)
Lucky (4 RP)
Linguist (1 RP)

Change Shape (3 RP)
-Grants Scent to a range of 30 feet
-Darkvision 60 feet