Mikhail Vaughn-Sarovik's page

At 1st level, a cavalier receives a teamwork feat as a bonus feat. He must meet the prerequisites for this feat. As a standard action, the cavalier can grant this feat to all allies within 30 feet who can see and hear him. Allies retain the use of this bonus feat for 3 rounds plus 1 round for every two levels the cavalier possesses. Allies do not need to meet the prerequisites of these bonus feats. The cavalier can use this ability once per day at 1st level, plus one additional time per day at 5th level and for every 5 levels thereafter.

Once per day, a cavalier can challenge a foe to combat. As a swift action, the cavalier chooses one target within sight to challenge. The cavalier’s melee attacks deal extra damage whenever the attacks are made against the target of his challenge. This extra damage is equal to the cavalier’s level. The cavalier can use this ability once per day at 1st level, plus one additional time per day for every three levels beyond 1st, to a maximum of seven times per day at 19th level.

Challenging a foe requires much of the cavalier’s concentration. The cavalier takes a –2 penalty to his Armor Class, except against attacks made by the target of his challenge.

The challenge remains in effect until the target is dead or unconscious or until the combat ends. Each cavalier’s challenge also includes another effect which is listed in the section describing the cavalier’s order.

At 1st level, a cavalier must pledge himself to a specific order. The order grants the cavalier a number of bonuses, class skills, and special abilities. In addition, each order includes a number of edicts that the cavalier must follow. If he violates any of these edicts, he loses the benefits from his order’s challenge ability for 24 hours. The violation of an edict is subject to GM interpretation. A cavalier cannot change his order without undertaking a lengthy process to dedicate himself to a new cause. When this choice is made, he immediately loses all of the benefits from his old order. He must then follow the edicts of his new order for one entire level without gaining any benefits from that order. Once accomplished, he gains all of the bonuses from his new order. Note that the names of these orders might vary depending upon the campaign setting or GM’s preference.

A cavalier who belongs to the order of the cockatrice serves only himself, working to further his own aims and increase his own prestige. Cavaliers of this order tend to be selfish and concerned only with personal goals and objectives.

Edicts: The cavalier must keep his own interests and aims above those of all others. He must always accept payment when it is due, rewards when earned, and an even (or greater) share of loot. The cavalier must take every opportunity to increase his own stature, prestige, and power.

Challenge: Whenever an order of the cockatrice cavalier issues a challenge, he receives a +1 morale bonus on all melee damage rolls made against the target of his challenge as long as he is the only creature threatening the target. This bonus increases by +1 for every four levels the cavalier possesses.

Skills: An order of the cockatrice cavalier adds Appraise (Int) and Perform (Cha) to his list of class skills. In addition, an order of the cockatrice cavalier adds his Charisma modifier to the DC on another creature’s attempt to demoralize him through Intimidate (in addition to his Wisdom modifier, as normal).

At 1st level, a beast rider forms a bond with a strong, loyal companion that permits him to ride it as a mount. This mount functions as a druid's animal companion, using the beast rider’s level as his effective druid level. The animal chosen as a mount must be large enough to carry the beast rider (Medium or Large for a Small character; Large or Huge for a Medium character). The beast rider does not take an armor check penalty on Ride checks while riding his mount. The mount is always considered combat trained, and begins play with Endurance as a bonus feat. A beast rider’s mount does not gain the share spells special ability.

Each time the beast rider increases in level, he can choose to select a new, more impressive mount better suited to his increased power.

Small-sized beast riders can choose a pony or wolf mount at 1st level. At 4th level, a Small beast rider can also choose an allosaurus, ankylosaurus, arsinoitherium, aurochs, bison, boar, brachiosaurus, elephant, glyptodon, hippopotamus, mastodon, megaloceros, riding dog, giant snapping turtle, triceratops, or tyrannosaurus. At 7th level, he can also choose a dinosaur (deinonychus or velociraptor).

Medium beast riders can choose a camel or horse mount at 1st level. At 4th level, a Medium beast rider can also choose an allosaurus, ankylosaurus, arsinoitherium, aurochs, bison, brachiosaurus, elephant, glyptodon, hippopotamus, lion, mastodon, megaloceros, giant snapping turtle, tiger, triceratops, or tyrannosaurus as his mount. Additional mounts might be available with GM approval.

In addition, a 7th-level or higher Medium beast rider can select any creature whose natural size is Large or Huge, provided that creature is normally available as a Medium-sized animal companion at 7th level (like a bear). To generate statistics for such a mount, apply the following modifications:

Size Large

Ability Scores Str +2, Dex –2, Con +2;
Increase the damage of each of the mount’s natural attacks by one die size.
A beast rider cannot choose a mount that is not capable of bearing his weight, that has fewer than four legs, or that has a fly speed (although the GM may allow mounts with a swim speed in certain environments).

Anytime a feat or ability allows a mount to make a hoof attack, it can make a claw, slam, or other analogous attack instead.

This ability replaces the standard cavalier's mount and expert trainer abilities.

Penned in by cold stone walls, the groggy sensation of fleeting consciousness is coupled with a dreadful sense of claustrophobia. Hauled by his arms, feet dragging behind him, a battered old man stares with unfocused eyes to the floor. At either side, armored men wordlessly drag him towards the barred iron door ahead. With a slam of one armored shoulder, one of the guards pushes the door open into a circular chamber lit by a single braizer standing over a wooden chair.

Throughb leary vision, the old man makes out metal braces on the chair's arms and legs, manacles are attached to the former and the latter bolted to the floor. Picked up again, he's hauled into the chair, manacles slammed around his weists and ankle-restraints he hadn't even seen clamped shut to hold his legs in place.

"He's coming to," one of the guards murmurs, voice muffled by his helm. From somewhere outside of the old man's field of vision, the other soldier strikes a blow against the back of his head, and his world becomes darkness again.
 
 
 
 
 

                          KINGMAKER: THE RED LION
 
 
 
 
 
A splash of water wakes the old man from his unconsciousness, the throbbing headache that comes after is a follow-up greeting. "Mikhail the Red," the name comes from a white-haired woman stepping into the light of the overhead braizer, her black feather-trimmed robe shimmering with irridescent hues. "Where is he?"

At the question, the old man exhales a wheezing laugh and looks up without lifting his head. Murky gray-blue eyes regard the young woman with indiscernable emotion, right up until the cold iron tip of her staff presses under his chin and forces him to look up at her.

"Where is he?" She asks again, pressing the bladed head of the staff more firmly against his throat. Wetting his parched lips with a lick of his tongue, the old man casts his eyes to the floor, then the shadows, then back up to the witch.

"Dead," he rasps, eliciting a strike of the staff against his cheek. Blood immediately flows from the cut, running down his jawline and the side of his neck.

"Bullsh*t!" The witch refuses to believe the commonly accepted truth. "I know he still lives, and you know where he is." She lifts her staff again, pressing it just below his right eye against a scar on his cheek decades older than the one she just made. "You will tell me," she intones as the tines of her staff begin to glow orange and become hot to the touch.

"Fine," the old man whispers, but she doesn't remove the staff. A sizzling sound begins, and he reiterates with more emphasis, "fine!" The staff remains, and he can no longer push away the pain. "I'll tell you!" he screams in both pain and resignation.

The witch's eyes narrow, the staff is eases away from burned flesh. There's scrutiny in her narrowed eyes, disbelief. Had it been too easy?

"But," the old man murmurs, "you'll hear the whole story." The witch takes a step closer, the heels of her boots clicking against the stone floor. Ice-blue eyes stare down at the old man, and she raises her staff to rest gently against her shoulder. Fro a moment there is just tense silence between the two, but then a slow nod is the permission the old man needs to begin.

"Mikhail the Red," he mutters, tiredly. "Legends don't start out like that. They start out as something simpler. Flesh and blood," the old man smiles faintly, "mere mortals..."

So the story went, far beyond what the witch had even known of Mikhail the Red. It was the history of a man born to the crusaders of Lastwall -- Mikhail Vaughn-Sarovik -- the union of two powerful families. One, the Sarovik family, a prominent merchant family hailing from Caliphas, Ustalav that commanded some of the fastest ships that traversed Lake Encarthan. The other, a house of crusading knights sworn to defending Lastwall against the Hold of Belkzen, the Vaughn family.

Mikhail was born and raised to be both a charming man of the court, and a courageous knight destined to lead the forces of Lastwall to glorious battles against the orc hordes. Trained in the art of chivalrous combat and sworn to the banner of the Lion as all his family before him, Mikhail had his future written for him before he was born.

Unfortunately for the Vaughn-Sarovik family, their plans for Mikhail's future were as ephemeral as the words they were promised with. At the age of 22, given command of a squad of crusading knights and after several successful campaigns against the orcs, Mikhail would learn the most bitter taste of betrayal and defeat.

Beyond Lastwall's borders, deep within Belkzen, Mikhail would lead his men against a burgeoning orc outpost with the intent to raze it to the ground and prevent them from establishing a foothold so close to the southern border. At a pivotal moment in the seige, Mikhail found himself betrayed by his lieutenant Almaran DiSanti. Having brokered a deal with the orcs in exchange for promises of wealth and fame, Almaran turned on his commander and impaled him with a spear, throwing him from his horse.

A one-sided battle ensued in the chaos of the attack, between a wounded Mikhail and Almaran. Unfortunately for both, Mikhail's men proved to be more than a match for the Belzken forces marshalled at the unfinished fort, and the plan to raze it was well underway. Mikhail and Almaran battled within the burning timbers of the half-finished fort, while his men -- unaware of the struggle -- awaited the call to withdraw.

It never came.

While Almaran and Mikhail fought, reinforcements who saw the smoke and flames bolstered the flagging orc forces, and Mikhail's men were routed. As he saw his men dying around him, the burning fort collapsed on Mikhail and Almaran. Only one pulled himself from the wreckage, and when Almaran crawled out of the collapsed fort -- burned and bleeding -- the orcs did not shower him with riches or the usurpation Mikhail's command. They showered him with arrows and left his corpse to rot in the sun.

Left for dead, Mikhail awoke many hours later after the orcs had retreated back north. Seeing the bodies of his men laying mutilated on the ground, his traitorous lieutenant dead, he felt both an overwhelming shame and horror. Wrapping himself in the tattered, blood-soaked and burned remnants of his banner he left the fort... but not to head south to Lastwall. Mikhail felt he could not return home with the shame of what happened. Better to be remembered a martyred hero who died accomplishing his mission than a failed commander who would shame his family and drag the name of his order through the mud with revelation of Almaran's betrayal.

Mikhail headed east into Ustalav, and in that fog-shrouded country he disappeared.

For the next decade, Mikhail would survive by selling his services as a mercenary, traveling across Ustalav as bodyguard and sellsword to whomever would pay his way. Gone was his pride, his honor, and his passion for fame. The only man he swore allegiance to any longer was himself.

Eventually, Mikhail's wanderings would take him through northern Razmiran and into the River Kingdoms. Here his mercenary ways would gradually shift, forming into nothing more than a petty -- but remarkably well-trained -- brigand.

A handful of men and women came and went through Mikhail's life, members of his "crew" that served themselves more than he. Eventually Mikhail's brigandage cut a path up through the northern fringes of the River Kingdoms, and finally into southern Brevoy. That is where Mikhail's luck ran out.

Mistaking a disguised highway patrol for a merchant caravan, Mikhail and his men were outclassed and outnumbered. Scattering to the winds, his bandit troupe broke apart and Mikhail found himself on the run from the law. Knowing that he had been made and would likely be relentlessly hunted for ambushing a royal highway patrol, Mikhail sought refuge in the one wilderness he knew anything could disappear into... the Stolen Lands.

Hearing word of an expedition into the heart of trackless wilderness he had avoided for its dangerous reputation, Mikhail found a way to elude the Brevoy patrols, for a time. But what he could not outrun, no matter how far he ran, was the shadow of his failure and the haunting voice of his past.

The blood-stained lion banner he wore as a half-cloak would always serve as a reminder of faded honor.

Honor that, deep down inside, he wanted to reclaim.