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For some of the methuselahs who remember other coasts and brighter skies, the phrase still carries nostalgia. Eymur Izei is not one of those people. A year ago, his home fell into the sea without a warning. It happened before dawn, when the city was still waking up. Saven, his father, rose early as usual to tend the ash terrace carved into the cliffside. ”Be right there, pops.” were the last words Eymur uttered to his father. He was getting dressed for work when the sound came. A long, rumbling groan echoed through the house as the ground walls trembled, as if the cliff itself had found a thundering voice. Trinka’s cough broke into a shout. Eymur ran to investigate, but by the time he reached the edge of the terrace, the world below was a churning smear of gray water, white bubbles, and blackened soil. The farm was simply not there anymore. It had folded into the sea with the cliff. It took the crops, tools, and Saven with it. There was nothing to bury, and nothing to dig a hole in.

After that morning, the phrase “No place like home” changed for Eymur. There is no place like home, because there is no home. Trinka, Eymur's mother, survived the collapse. The shock did not take her, though sometimes Eymur wondered if it would have been kinder. The cough that had always lingered in her chest grew deeper. What had once been a seasonal fit became a constant rasp. She did not tend the crops for years. Neither Eymur nor Saven would allow for it in her condition. Stubborn as she was, her contribution to the farm was cooking soup and resting. The boys, as she would call them, insisted.

But now, the terrace was gone. The house above it was condemned within the week. They were moved inward, away from the cliffs. Thankfully, on one hand. Who knows when the next collapse will swallow their home? On the other hand, they traded an open plot for narrow streets that smelled of brine and damp stone. Ash farmers did not have savings. They had land. And that land was gone now. After his failed attempts to obtain a field to work, Eymur found himself at the job boards near the lower markets. Men and women gathered in tight knots, scanning for postings. Dock work. Night watch. Gutter clearing. Eymur stood among them, small even for a halfling, hands in pockets so no one would see them shake.

Eymur noticed a man limping through the street and decided to offer help. This was his first interaction with Kamak. The cloaked figure did not initially introduce himself. He did not ask Eymur’s name. He stood slightly off to the side, his weight shifted carefully, as if one knee did not fully trust the ground. His coat was plain. He leaned against a wall, relieving his leg. "Can you move through the city, kid?" the limping man asked. Eymur shrugged. "I’ve lived here." The man returned an indifferent response from under the cloak. "That’s not what I asked." After a small pause, Eymur responded with a simple "Yes." The figure held out a parcel wrapped in waxed paper and bound with twine. It was light. Sealed. "Deliver this. Payment on delivery." Eymur asked for details, and the figure provided the necessities. An address and a phrase to speak. That was all he'd need. Eymur delivered the package. He was paid more coin than a day of dock work would.

The second job came two days later. The parcels were always sealed. Letters, perhaps. Small packages that shifted slightly if shaken, though Eymur did not shake them. He told himself he did not need to know. He may have been a farmer, but he was no idiot. Mysterious parcels, doors only opening after an uttered passphrase, all of that coming from a man who barely steps out of shadow. But it brought the food and mother's medicine to the table. He was not stealing. He was not threatening. He knocked on doors and offered the unknown goods. Parcel running was not illegal. It was a service. Despite all of this, it was probably better not to be searched. He learned which alleys swallowed sound and which carried it. Which stairwells were slippery and better avoided. He learned to move when patrols turned corners and to pause in shadow when drunken street arguments happened. He began to see the city not as a network of passages and blind spots. He was good at it. Kamak remained distant. If a parcel arrived late, the payment was smaller. If it arrived on time, he summoned the halfling sooner. There was no praise coming from the man. It was a very transactional affair.

Nine months passed, and Trinka’s cough worsened. The widow’s coughing fits turned into flecks of red on her palm, and eventually nights when she could not lie flat without choking. The apothecaries did not barter for sympathy. Powdered tonics and bitter syrups cost silver, and silver came from parcels. Eymur did not ask what was inside them. Then came the situation. The address was different. Not one of the narrow tenements or backroom shops he was used to. This was a well-kept townhouse near the inner wards, where lanterns burned brighter and had cleaner windows. Kamak’s instructions were brief, as always. The woman who answered was clearly expecting someone else to appear. There was no domestic comfort in her gaze, but there was a hint of joy at seeing the package delivered. Then she raised an eyebrow. "You’re not Kamak." she said, looking left and right at the street before visually inspecting the package. The halfling was set aback by this. He sputtered a simple "No." as a response. "Where is he?", the questions kept coming, but Eymur's desire was to keep the interaction swift. "I deliver." The woman studied him for a while. Took in his size, the careful way he held the parcel, the way his eyes did not wander past her shoulder into the room beyond. "All right." Eymur just nodded, but it was clear the woman did not mean the hooded man he knew by the name Kamak. It was probably better not to know. He left with his coin.

The invitation came two days later, with a bundle of top-shelf medicine. Surely, that merits at least a few thankful words. But when Eymur arrived at the address on the invitation, he did not meet the cloaked man who usually gave him work. This was a man Eymur had never seen before. The man was neither ostentatious nor crude. His coat was well-tailored, given the circumstances, but unremarkable. His hair was somewhat combed, his expression mild. He did not even give Eymur a name. "You’ve been delivering for me for some time., he said. The words settled like a stone in Eymur’s stomach. "I delivered for Kamak." A hint of a smile appeared on the man's face. "Yes. And Kamak delivers for me." The room was quiet for a moment as Eymur shifted uncomfortably, scanning the room for means of escape.

"You have been punctual.", the man continued. "Accurate. Unobtrusive. But still, I prefer direct arrangements." Eymur thought of Trinka’s cough. Of the red spattering on her knuckles. Of the apothecary’s thin patience. "What happened to Kamak?", Eymur asked sheepishly. The man’s gaze did not shift. "He was redundant. Acting like a handler when he should be delivering. I was wondering how he walked around since he busted his knee." Nothing more. They spoke for a few minutes, and the offer was simple. Higher pay, direct instructions. If Eymur refused, he could return to the job board and hope the docks had room for a halfling. Surely, his wiry arms were made for lifting heavy boxes. He knew he would watch the medicine thin and the cough deepen. If he accepted, nothing outwardly changed. He would carry parcels, knock on doors, and get paid. He hesitated only long enough to recognise the weight of the choice. "I’ll deliver." he said. After that, the parcels came more frequently. Sometimes heavier. Sometimes accompanied by a reminder not to open. He never had, and he sure as hell wouldn't be starting now. But he never heard from Kamak since.

At home, Trinka noticed the change before she understood it. Eymur spoke less. Ate quickly. Watched the door as if it might open on its own. When she asked about work, he answered without getting into details. "Eh, it pays. Pretty boring, actually. A lot of walking and not much else.", he shrugged. "That's good.", she said between coughs. "I bet your father would be proud." Eymur did not answer that. A memory came to him. Memory of him cutting through a lower stairwell to shave minutes from a route. The stone steps had been damp and slick. Halfway down, a man had slipped ahead of him, arms flailing before crashing hard against the stone floor, sending echoes of cracking bone and grunting through the stairwell.

"Help!", the man gasped. Eymur froze. The parcel under his arm was supposed to be on time. That's why he was taking an already dangerous shortcut in the first place. He knew the patrol pattern in that district; two guards would pass the mouth of the alley in a heartbeat. That means awkward questions and delays. Nobody wants that. He could drag the man aside. He could shout for assistance. He could do what any decent citizen of Mournfall would do. He thought of Kamak. Redundant. He thought of Trinka’s breath hitching in the night. The man on the stairs reached for him. Eymur stepped around. "I can’t." he said quietly, though he did not know if the man heard. He did not look back. The parcel arrived on time. That night, Trinka’s cough bled again. He held the basin for her, wondering whether this would have been the last time if he hadn’t brought the syrups today.

That was a memory of only one of the lapses. He finished the food in silence. Mournfall was survival. There is no place like home. For some, it means warmth. For others, memory. For Eymur Izei, it means something else entirely.

Home is a room with damp stone walls and a narrow bed where his mother coughs through the night. Home is the weight of coin counted carefully beside a flickering lamp. Home is the knowledge that cliffs can fall without warning, that men can become redundant, that help given at the wrong moment can cost more than it saves. He did not set out to join the underbelly of the city. He did not dream of shadowed corridors or sealed parcels. He wanted wages. Medicine. A future that did not end in a basin of blood. He tells himself he is still the same halfling who stood at the job board, hiding his shaking hands.

2. How old is your character?
Very early twenties

3. What would somebody see at first glance?
A halfling male with sharp features and copper-orange hair (when clean). His eyes are amber and alert. His lower face is wrapped in a dark cloth mask, to both hide his face and protect his lungs from the ever-present ash dust. He is lean, almost malnourished, and compact. Built for agility, with wiry musculature from years of farmwork.

4. What additional attributes would be noticed upon meeting the character?
He speaks plainly and briefly. Rarely volunteers information.
He stands near walls, rarely in open spaces, as if intentionally staying out of the way.

5. Where was your character born? Where were you raised? By who?
Born and raised in Mournfall, on a cliffside ash terrace farm. Raised by Saven and Trinka.

6. Who are your parents? Are they alive? What do they do for a living?
Saven Izei - father - ash farmer. Deceased. Taken when the cliff collapsed into the sea.
Trinka Izei - mother - homemaker, once helped with farm labor before her coughs got worse.

7. Do you have any other family or friends?
No surviving extended family.
Kamak - a man who introduced him to this current life, but has since disappeared.
He frequently visits an apothecary in the area, but they never formally introduced.

8. What is your character’s marital status? Kids?
Single without children.

9. What is your character’s alignment?
CG

He values stability, but rules can bend under necessity.

10. What is your character’s moral code?
Provide for your kin. Be practical and useful. Survive.

11. Does your character have goals?
Keep Trinka alive.

12. Is your character religious?
Not actively. He may respect the rituals of Mournfall, but the cliff collapse strained any belief in protection or divine justice.

13. What are your character’s personal beliefs?
The world does not owe anyone fairness.
Hesitation gets people hurt.

14. Does your character have any personality quirks?
Mildly paranoid and frequently looking over his shoulder.
Emotionally reserved.
Struggles to accept help.

15. Why does your character adventure?
For money to improve Trinka’s health, or at least to make sure her condition doesn’t deteriorate further.

16. How does your character view his/her role as an adventurer?
He didn’t really set out to adventure. As long as it offers a sense of stability for his mother, he will do it.

17. Does your character have any distinguishing marks?
Calloused hands from years of farming.
Slight dark circles under his eyes from restless sleep.

18. How does your character get along with others?
Polite but guarded. Straight to the point. Emotionally distant and hard to earn trust. People may initially find him quiet and harmless.

19. Is there anything that your character hates?
People who treat others as disposable.
The sound of someone coughing and refusing to rest.

20. Is there anything that your character fears?
Losing Trinka.
Becoming redundant.

CG Small Halfling Unchained Rogue 1;
Init 4; Senses Perception: +8 (Low-light)

Defense
AC 15, touch 15, flat-footed 11
HP 10
Fort 3, Ref 7, Will 5

Offense
Speed 30 ft.

Statistics
Str 10, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 14, Cha 9
Base Atk + +0; CMB +-1; CMD 13

Feats Iron Will; Weapon Finesse;

SQ Finesse Training; Sneak Attack +1d6; Trapfinding;

Traits
Intrepid Volunteer (Race) - Climb
Terrace Runner (Campaign)

Alt Racials
Fleet of Foot

Skills
Acrobatics +9
Climb +9
Disable Device +9
Escape Artist +8
Knowledge (local) +5
Perception +8
Profession (Ash Farmer) +6
Profession (Courier) +6
Sense Motive +6
Stealth +12
Survival +3

For some of the methuselahs who remember other coasts and brighter skies, the phrase still carries nostalgia. For Eymur Izei, it carries absence. His home fell into the sea a year ago. It happened before dawn, when the city was still blue with sleep. His father, Saven, rose early to tend the ash terrace carved into the cliffside, as usual. The soil there was black and powder-fine, good for the hardy root crops that kept halfling tables from going bare. Eymur remembered the scrape of the door, the murmur of wind, and his mother's coughing. Then the sound.

A long, tearing groan, as if the cliff itself had found a thundering voice. The ground trembled. Trinka’s cough broke into a shout. Eymur ran to investigate, but by the time he reached the edge of the terrace, the world below was a churning smear of gray water and falling soil. A the farm simply was not there anymore. It had folded into the sea witht he cliff, and took the crops, tools, and Saven with it. There was nothing to bury, and nothing to dig a hole in.

After that morning, the saying changed. There is no place like home. Because there is no home. Eymur's mother, Trinka, did survive the collapse. The shock did not take her, though sometimes Eymur wondered if it would have been kinder. The cough that had always lingered in her chest grew deeper. What had once been a seasonal fit became a constant rasp. She did not tend the crops for years. Neither Eymur nor Saven would allow it in her condition. Stubborn as she was, her contribution to the farm was cooking soup and resting. The boys, as she would call them, insisted.

But now, the terrace was gone. The house above it was condemned within the week. They were moved inward, away from the cliffs. On one hand, thankfully. Who knows when the next collapse swallows their home? On the other, they traded an open plot for narrow streets that smelled of brine and damp stone. Ash farmers did not have savings. Ash farmers had land. And that land was gone now. After his failed attempts to obtain a field to work, Eymur found himself at the job boards near the lower markets. Men and women gathered in tight knots, scanning for postings. Dock work. Night watch. Gutter clearing. Eymur stood among them, small even for a halfling, hands clasped behind his back so no one would see them shake. He did not set out to join anything. He was looking for wages.

It was there that Eossil found him. The cloaked figure did not initially introduce himself. He did not ask Eymur’s name. He stood slightly off to the side, weight shifted carefully, as if one ankle did not fully trust the ground. His coat was plain. His eyes assessed without lingering. "You can move through the city?" he asked. Eymur shrugged. "I’ve lived here." A response that was inflicted both indifference and irritation came back from beneath the cloaked man. "That’s not what I asked." After a small pause Eymur responded with a simple "Yes."

The figure held out a parcel wrapped in waxed paper and bound with twine. It was light. Sealed. "Deliver this. Payment on delivery." Eymur asked for details, and the figure provided the necessities An address. A time. A door to knock on and a phrase to speak. That was all he'd need. Eymur delivered the package. He was paid more coin than a day of dock work would, and far cleaner.

The second job came two days later. The parcels were always sealed. Letters, perhaps. Small packages that shifted slightly if shaken, though Eymur did not shake them. He told himself he did not need to know. he may have been a farmer, but he was no idiot. Mysterious parcels, doors only opening after a passphrase was uttered, all of that coming from a man who barely steps out of shadow. But it brought the food and mother's medicine on the table. He was not stealing. He was not threatening. He was not even opening doors. He only knocked and offered the unknown goods. Parcel running was not illegal. It was a service. Despite all of this, it was probably better to not be searched. He learned which alleys swallowed sound and which carried it. Which stairwells were slippery, and which were not. He learned to move when patrols turned corners and to pause in shadow when drunken arguments spilled into the street. He began to see the city not as a network of passages and blind spots. He was good at it. Eossil remained distant. If a parcel arrived late, he said nothing, only did not offer another job for a week. If it arrived on time, he summoned the halfling sooner. There was no praise coming from the man. It ws purely a transactional affair.

Nine months passed, and Trinka’s cough worsened. The longer coughing fits of the widowed halfling turned into flecks of red on her palm, and eventually nights where she could not lie flat without choking. The apothecaries did not barter for sympathy. Powdered tonics and bitter syrups cost silver, and silver came from parcels. Eymur did not ask what was inside them. Then came the situation. The address was different. Not one of the narrow tenements or backroom shops he was used to. This was a well-kept townhouse near the inner wards, where lanterns burned brighter and windows were cleaner. Eossil’s instructions were brief, as always. The woman who answered was clearly expecting somoene else to appear. There was no domestic comfort in her gaze, but there was a hint of joy at seeing the package delivered. Then she raised an eyebrow. "You’re not Eossil." she said, visually inspecting the package, then looking left and right at the street. The halfling seemed set aback by this. He sputtered a simple "No." as a response. "Where is he?", the questions kept coming, but Eymur's desire was to keep the interaction swift. "I deliver." The woman studied him for a while. Took in his size, the careful way he held the parcel, the way his eyes did not wander past her shoulder into the room beyond. "All right. I will inform him." Eymur just nodded, but it was clear the woman did not mean the hooded man he knows by the name Eossil. It was probably better to now know. He left with his coin.

The invitation came two days later, with a bundle of high quality cough medicine. Surely, that merits at least a few thankful words. But when Eymur arrived at the address on the invitation, he did not meet the cloaked man that usually gave him work. This was a man Eymur had never seen before. The man was neither ostentatious nor crude. His coat was well-tailored, given the circumstances, but unremarkable. His hair was combed, his expression was mild, he did not even give Eymur a name. "You’ve been delivering for me for some time., he said. The words settled like a stone in Eymur’s stomach. "I delivered for Eossil." A hint of a smile appeared on the man's face. "Yes. And Eossil delivers for me." The room was quiet for a moment. No guards visible. No raised voices. No threats.

"You have been punctual.", the man continued. "Accurate. Unobtrusive. I prefer direct arrangements." Eymur thought of Trinka’s cough. Of the red spattering on her knuckles. Of the apothecary’s thin patience. "What happened to Eossil?" The man’s gaze did not shift. "He was redundant. Acting like a handler when should be delivering. I was wondering how he walked around since he busted his knee." Nothing more. The offer was simple. Higher pay. Clearer routes. Direct instructions. If Eymur refused, he could return to the job board and hope the docks had room for a halfling. Surely, his wiry arms were made for lifting heavy boxes. He knew he would watch the medicine thin and the cough deepen. If he accepted, nothing outwardly changed. He would carry parcels, knock on doors, get paid. He hesitated only long enough to recognize the weight of the choice. "I’ll deliver." he said. After that, the parcels came more frequently. Sometimes heavier. Sometimes accompanied by a reminder to not open. He never had, and he sure as hell wouldn't be starting now. But he never heard from Eossil since.

At home, Trinka noticed the change before she understood it. He spoke less. Ate quickly. Watched the door as if it might open on its own. When she asked about work, he answered without getting into details. "Eh, it pays. Pretty boring, actually.", he shrugged. "That's good.", she said between coughs. "I bet your father would be proud." Eymur did not answer that. A memory came to him. Memory of him cutting through a lower stairwell to shave minutes from a route. The stone steps had been damp and slick. Halfway down, a man had slipped ahead of him, arms windmilling before crashing crashing hard against the wall, seding echoes of bone on stone and grunting through the stairwell.

"Help!" the man gasped. Eymur froze. The parcel under his arm was supposed to be on time. That's why he was taking an already dangerous shortcut in the firt place. He knew the patrol pattern in that district. Guards would pass the mouth of the alley in less than five minutes. That means awkward questions, delays, explanations. Nobody wants that. He could drag the man aside. He could shout for assistance. He could do what any decent citizen of Mournfall would do. He thought of Eossil. Redundant. He thought of Trinka’s breath hitching in the night. The man on the stairs reached for him. Eymur stepped around. "I can’t.", he said quietly, though he did not know if the man heard. He did not look back. The parcel reached its door on time. That night, Trinka’s cough bled again. He held the basin for her and told himself that the choice had been necessary. He was not a healer. He was not a watchman. He was a courier.

Mournfall was survival. There is no place like home. For some, it means warmth. For others, memory. For Eymur Izei, it means something else entirely.

Home is a room with damp stone walls and a narrow bed where his mother coughs through the night. Home is the weight of coin counted carefully beside a flickering lamp. Home is the knowledge that cliffs can fall without warning, that men can become redundant, that help given at the wrong moment can cost more than it saves.

He did not set out to join the underbelly of the city. He did not dream of shadowed corridors or sealed parcels. He wanted wages. Medicine. A future that did not end in a basin of blood. He tells himself he is still the same halfling who stood at the job board with shaking hands. He moves through the streets without being seen. He delivers without asking what is inside.

He carries himself with an easy, deliberate grace. The quiet poise of one who has trained body and mind in harmony. A simple string of prayer beads hangs from one wrist, worn smooth from years of touch. His tail moves constantly, betraying thought and focus, flicking or curling when he reads or debates historic events. An aura of pensive calm surrounds this man, hinting at depths of contemplation, tempered by a gentle warmth. He seems to view the world as both a mystery to be studied and a feast to be savored. The scent of spice markets, the laughter of children, the sound of an evening rain. He takes quiet joy in these things, though he never clings to them. Beneath that appreciation lies a deliberate stillness of a man who has tasted life’s flavors, but chose a stoic path, finding contentment not in abundance, but in balance.

Among his studies, the legends of the Ghol-Gan empire seized his imagination. The idea of a lost cyclopean civilization: vast, mysterious, and long forgotten, called to both his scholarly curiosity and his monkish sense of duty to preserve knowledge from oblivion. With the blessing of his order, Aamu left the monastery, following whispers of crumbling ruins scattered across the Shackles.His journey led him to Port Peril, the notorious pirate haven, where a contact promised to sell him a weathered map said to lead to ancient Ghol-Gani vaults. He met the contact at a raucous tavern called the Formidably Maid, but the drink there was stronger than he anticipated. Somewhere between his second and third cup, the world went black, and Aamu’s carefully planned expedition began to unravel before it even started.

Defense
AC 18, touch 18, flat-footed 14
HP 10
Fort 4; Ref 5; Will 6

Offense
Unarmed Strike +3 (1d6+1) Bludgeoning

Speed 30 ft.
Climb 20 ft.

Statistics
Str 13, Dex 17, Con 15, Int 13, Wis 18, Cha 8
Base Atk + +0; CMB +1; CMD 19

Skills
(* background)
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Acrobatics +10
Climb +13
*Knowledge (History) +6
Perception +8
*Profession (Sailor) +8
Stealth +9
Survival +8
Swim +5

Feats
Unarmed Combatant (Combat) - Monk 1
Improved Grapple
Improved Unarmed Strike

Dirty Fighting - Level 1

Dodge - Monk Bonus 1
Dodge
Mobility

Stunning Fist - Monk 1

Feat Specifics
Unarmed Combatant (Combat)
You are skilled at grappling and fighting while unarmed.
Prerequisite: Dex 13.
Benefit: You are considered to be armed even when unarmed - you do not provoke attacks of opportunity when you attack foes while unarmed. Your unarmed strikes now deal 1d6 damage if you are medium sized or 1d4 damage if you are small sized, and you can deal lethal or nonlethal damage, at your choice. You do not provoke an attack of opportunity when performing a grapple combat maneuver. In addition, you receive a +2 bonus on checks made to grapple a foe. You also receive a +2 bonus to your Combat Maneuver Defense whenever an opponent tries to grapple you.
Normal: Without this feat, you are considered unarmed when attacking with an unarmed strike, and you can deal only nonlethal damage with such an attack. You provoke an attack of opportunity when performing a grapple combat maneuver.

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Dirty Fighting (Combat)
You can take advantage of a distracted foe.
Benefit: When you attempt a combat maneuver check against a foe you are flanking, you can forgo the +2 bonus on your attack roll for flanking to instead have the combat maneuver not provoke an attack of opportunity. If you have a feat or ability that allows you to attempt the combat maneuver without provoking an attack of opportunity, you can instead increase the bonus on your attack roll for flanking to +4 for the combat maneuver check.
Special: This feat counts as having Dex 13, Int 13, Combat Expertise, and Improved Unarmed Strike for the purposes of meeting the prerequisites of the various improved combat maneuver feats, as well as feats that require those improved combat maneuver feats as prerequisites.

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Dodge (Combat)
Your training and reflexes allow you to react swiftly to avoid an opponent’s attacks.
Prerequisite: Dex 13.
Benefit: You gain a +1 dodge bonus to your AC. This bonus increases to +5 against attacks of opportunity caused when you move out of or within a threatened tile. A condition that makes you lose your Dex bonus to AC also makes you lose the benefits of this feat.

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Stunning Fist (Combat)
You know just where to strike to temporarily stun a foe.
Prerequisites: Dex 13, Wis 13, Unarmed Combatant, base attack bonus +8.
Benefit: You must declare that you are using this feat before you make your attack roll (thus, a failed attack roll ruins the attempt). Stunning Fist forces a foe damaged by your unarmed attack to make a Fortitude saving throw (DC 10 + 1/2 your character level + your Wis modifier), in addition to dealing damage normally. A defender who fails this saving throw is stunned for 1 round (until just before your next turn). A stunned character drops everything held, can’t take actions, loses any Dexterity bonus to AC, and takes a -2 penalty to AC. You may attempt a stunning attack once per day for every four levels you have attained (but see Special), and no more than once per round. Constructs, oozes, plants, undead, incorporeal creatures, and creatures immune to critical hits cannot be stunned.
Special: A monk receives Stunning Fist as a bonus feat at 1st level, even if he does not meet the prerequisites. A monk may attempt a stunning attack a number of times per day equal to his monk level, plus one more time per day for every four levels he has in classes other than monk.

Class Features

Weapon and Armor Proficiency

Monks are proficient with the club, crossbow (light or heavy), dagger, handaxe, javelin, kama, nunchaku, quarterstaff, sai, shortspear, short sword, shuriken, siangham, sling, and spear. Monks are not proficient with any armor or shields. When wearing armor, using a shield, or carrying a medium or heavy load, a monk loses his AC bonus, as well as his fast movement and flurry of blows abilities.

AC Bonus (Ex)
When unarmored and unencumbered, the monk adds his Wisdom bonus (if any) to his AC and his CMD. In addition, a monk gains a +1 bonus to AC and CMD at 4th level. This bonus increases by 1 for every four monk levels thereafter, up to a maximum of +5 at 20th level. These bonuses to AC apply even against touch attacks or when the monk is flat-footed. He loses these bonuses when he is immobilized or helpless, when he wears any armor, when he carries a shield, or when he carries a medium or heavy load.

Unarmed Strike
At 1st level, a monk gains Improved Unarmed Strike as a bonus feat. A monk's attacks may be with fist, elbows, knees, and feet. This means that a monk may make unarmed strikes with his hands full. There is no such thing as an off-hand attack for a monk striking unarmed. A monk may thus apply his full Strength bonus on damage rolls for all his unarmed strikes. Usually a monk's unarmed strikes deal lethal damage, but he can choose to deal nonlethal damage instead with no penalty on his attack roll. He has the same choice to deal lethal or nonlethal damage while grappling. A monk's unarmed strike is treated as both a manufactured weapon and a natural weapon for the purpose of spells and effects that enhance or improve either manufactured weapons or natural weapons. A monk also deals more damage with his unarmed strikes than a normal person would, as shown above on Table: Monk.

Bonus Feat
At 1st level, 2nd level, and every 4 levels thereafter, a monk may select a bonus feat. These feats must be taken from the following list: Catch Off-Guard, Combat Reflexes, Deflect Arrows, Dodge, Improved Grapple, Scorpion Style, and Throw Anything. At 6th level, the following feats are added to the list: Gorgon's Fist, Improved Bull Rush, Improved Disarm, Improved Feint, Improved Trip, and Mobility. At 10th level, the following feats are added to the list: Improved Critical, Medusa's Wrath, Snatch Arrows, and Spring Attack. A monk need not have any of the prerequisites normally required for these feats to select them.

Stunning Fist (Ex)
At 1st level, the monk gains Stunning Fist as a bonus feat, even if he does not meet the prerequisites. At 4th level, and every 4 levels thereafter, the monk gains the ability to apply a new condition to the target of his Stunning Fist. This condition replaces stunning the target for 1 round, and a successful saving throw still negates the effect. At 4th level, he can choose to make the target fatigued. At 8th level, he can make the target sickened for 1 minute. At 12th level, he can make the target staggered for 1d6+1 rounds. At 16th level, he can permanently blind or deafen the target. At 20th level, he can paralyze the target for 1d6+1 rounds. The monk must choose which condition will apply before the attack roll is made. These effects do not stack with themselves (a creature sickened by Stunning Fist cannot become nauseated if hit by Stunning Fist again), but additional hits do increase the duration.

The sensei is a revered teacher who imparts lessons on the oneness of mind, body, and spirit, along with occasional correction that is subtle and swift. Rather than using wisdom for his own benefit alone, he uses it to better those around him.

Skills: A sensei gains Diplomacy, Linguistics, and all Knowledge skills as class skills.

Advice (Ex)
A sensei’s advice is identical to bardic performance (using oratory), allowing him to inspire courage at 1st level, inspire competence at 3rd level, and inspire greatness at 9th level, as a bard of the sensei’s level, usable a total number of rounds per day equal to his level + his Wisdom modifier (minimum 1). This ability replaces flurry of blows, fast movement, and improved evasion.

Insightful Strike (Ex)
At 2nd level, a sensei may use his Wisdom bonus in lieu of his Strength or Dexterity on attack rolls and combat maneuver checks with unarmed strikes or monk weapons. This ability replaces evasion and the bonus feat gained at 2nd level.

Mystic Wisdom (Su)
At 6th level, a sensei may use his advice ability when spending points from his ki pool to activate a class ability (using the normal actions required for each) in order to have that ability affect one ally within 30 feet rather than the sensei himself. At 10th level, a sensei may affect all allies within 30 feet rather than himself (spending points from his ki pool only once, not once for each target).

At 10th level, a sensei may instead spend 1 point from his ki pool (as a swift action) while using advice to provide a single ally within 30 feet with evasion, fast movement, high jump, purity of body, or slow fall. At 14th level, a sensei may spend 2 points to grant one of the abilities listed above to all allies within 30 feet, or diamond body, diamond soul, or improved evasion to a single ally within 30 feet. These abilities function at the sensei’s level and last 1 round. This ability replaces the bonus feats at 6th, 10th, and 14th level.

Racial Traits

Vanara
Vanaras are humanoids with the vanara subtype.

Medium
Vanaras are Medium creatures and have no bonuses or penalties due to their size.

Normal Speed
Vanaras have a base speed of 30 feet and a Climb speed of 20 feet.

Low-Light Vision
A vanara can see twice as far as a human in dim light.

Nimble
Vanaras have a +2 racial bonus on Acrobatics and Stealth checks.

Prehensile Tail
A vanara has a long, flexible tail that she can use to carry objects. She cannot wield weapons with her tail, but the tail allows her to retrieve a small, stowed object carried on her person as a swift action.

Languages: Vanaran, Taldane, Polyglot, Cyclops
Vanaras begin play speaking Common and Vanaran. Vanaras with high Intelligence scores can choose from the following languages: Aklo, Celestial, Elven, Gnome, Goblin, and Sylvan.

Traits
Acrobat (Basic - Social)
Having trained from a young age, you’re capable of amazing feats of daring. You gain a +1 bonus on Acrobatics checks, and you take only a –2 penalty instead of the normal –5 penalty when using the Climb skill to attempt an accelerated climb.

Jungle Guide (Region - Sargava)
You’ve made your living outfitting and guiding expeditions deep into the Mwangi interior in search of ancient ruins and lost cities. You gain a +1 trait bonus on Handle Animal checks, and a +1 trait bonus on Survival checks in jungle terrain. One of these skills is a class skill for you.

Ancient Explorer (Campaign)
You are a student of the ancient history of Golarion, and you’ve come to the Shackles to explore the crumbling and vine-choked ruins of the cyclops empire of Ghol-Gan, which have lain abandoned among the isles of the Shackles for thousands of years. You gain a +1 trait bonus on Knowledge (history) and Knowledge (local) checks, and one of these skills is a class skill for you. In addition, you gain Cyclops or Polyglot as a bonus language.

You went to a tavern called the Formidably Maid in Port Peril last night to meet a contact who supposedly had an old map of lost cyclops ruins to sell, but the drink was stronger than you had expected and you passed out before making the deal.

First, you left the story on a cliff hanger which is probably intentional but I'm not sure what you want in terms of resolving it. Are you planning to have that lead in to the opening scene of the game?

The cliffhanger is set up to be tied to the opening scenes of the game, yes. Since I am not exactly sure how the entire thing starts. I may have a suggestions for you, but I am not sure whether they would apply. (see below)

Second, which is related to the first, your Quest on escaping the guild isn't very likely to see much action after the first part of the AP. Without wanting to spoil things, youre going to be moving around Taldor a lot and you'll be out of Oppara very quickly. My worry is that you'll be left with a Quest that is just hanging there and not giving you any chance to earn XP.

In this case, escaping might not necessarily mean relocating. It could also be obfuscating one's presence, or gaining allies that would act as a deterrent for the time being (cough Martella Lotheed cough). Potentialy related to this, I was checking the timeline for War of the Crown AP (to find out how long Taldor and Qadira had a truce, pinky-promise), and the first line is:

The War for the Crown was a civil war of succession in Taldor that occurred in 4718 AR. It began with Grand Prince Stavian III ordering the murders of half of the Taldan senate (...)

Soooo, I put in a little thing for you, in the form of a list of people to kill that happened to end up in her hands. What happened to the 8 members of the Briney Dozen that went into the house to do the heist? Who knows, but at least they did give the bird the list they stole. Somehow.

And who is this mysterious man who introduced himself as Callio Scapula?
Is it someone who opposes the Grand Prince, figured out this "cull the senate" plan and made a counterplay?

Is Scapula after Shamsi now? Is Scapula's organisation the guild in the quest?

Can we say that finding this list of names to be murdered is what finally broke the camel's back. Shamsi has witnessed the contrast between the living conditions in the poor and wealthy, and is fed up, finally, the young reformer trait comes into play:

Young Reformer: Perhaps you were born at the bottom of Taldan society and you’re tired of seeing your friends and family toil endlessly with no hope of a better life, or maybe your privileged outlook was shattered by empathy or tragedy. Either way, you know the system is broken

And I don't know if Shamsi actually knows -of- Martella Lotheed. I am envisioning Lotheed as someone working from behind the curtain. But Shamsi definitely wants to approach someone with influence, so maybe her name is on the list, and that's where they meet?

LMK

Shamsi's blood family lives in Eastport. While it may seem like a bad part of town with its wooden construction, it is actually an upgrade from the good old Narrows. Some money appeared in their house once, with a note from their estranged daughter. Not a fortune, but enough to get out of the Narrows.

Hirmand works as a carpenter in the docks, and Pareeva has a mobile bread stall. The twins both run deliveries for the local bakeries, purchase products at a discount and forward them to their mother. While they are an enterprising family, many people in Oppara frown at the southerners, proving that Taldane collective memory is quite good, but come on, guys, it's been over a century. Move on.

Anyway, you may have noticed that their nisbah (a surname-ish thing) does not match. This is because Shamsi opted not to endanger her kin when she was transitioning to the path of a career criminal. Shortly after joining the Briney Dozen, she cut ties. Name included.

But people in the Narrows only pay what they have, and that was never enough to feed five mouths. Pareeva had to tend to the younger children, so Shamsi had to step up. And what can a late-teen girl do in the Narrows? Well, you don’t really want to know. She started picking pockets. First at the edges of the Narrows, then in the Port districts, and eventually in Crownsgate itself.

The girl could hide in a crowd. Not always perfectly, but she was never caught. Shamsi wanted to climb higher, to leave behind the rickety cots of her childhood. She looked at the houses in Canal Row, not polished marble, but still a world apart from the Narrows. She searched for accomplices, and she found them, joining a group known as the Briney Dozen. The numbers didn’t add up. Even with Shamsi, there were eleven of them. Perhaps someone had died. Twice. Better not think too hard about it. It was a catchy name.

The Briney Dozen had a rhythm. They had plans, skills, courage, and above all, each other’s backs. They carried out jobs in Crownsgate, Canal Row, and Grandbridge. Nothing reckless. No need to poke a sleeping lion.

For years, they worked independently, and Shamsi managed to save enough to move her family out of the Narrows. But Eastport was not enough. Around this time, a fence suggested they contact a local named Callio Scapula. The Dozen dressed in their finest and went to the edge of Lionsgate. They met a finely dressed man, probably someone of influence, probably not named Callio Scapula. At least that’s what Shamsi assumed.

Scapula offered them a job. Just one job. The kind of job that promised the last score, the kind of money that could set them for life. "There’s this house in Imperial Square. Find a way in, search for some important-sounding paperwork, probably hidden under floorboards or some other clichéd spot, bring it to me, get paid, and you’re set for life. Super easy, barely an inconvenience."

Shamsi felt uneasy. She wanted time to plan. Scapula refused. It had to be done that night. The papers were moving, and they could be gone by morning. They voted. Shamsi said no, Taniel Sea said no, Basher Wax said no. The rest wanted in. The three of them left the building and returned to the Narrows, grabbing a cheap drink and finding a place to sleep. Shamsi sent Saada, her pet bird, to keep watch on the rest of the gang, just in case.

Sometimes, that kind of caution pays off. The next morning, Shamsi awoke to find Saada perched nearby, a tiny leather scroll case tied to his leg with a short string. She took it, opened it, and her eyes widened as she read. She looked at Saada.

"Well, someone should see this."

She stood, turned east, and saw the sun rising over Senate’s Hill. In her hand was a kill list containing the names of prominent figures as she began moving toward the eastern districts.

People: Friends in Low Places
Power: Back-Alley Brawling
Power: Improvised Hideout
Weakness: Second Class Citizen
Quest: Improve the family's standing.

Skill or Trade: Infiltrator
Power: Sneaky
Power: Observant
Weakness: Distrusted by Highbred
Quest: Find someone to place your trust in.

Trait: Clever
Power: Polyglot
Power: People Reader
Weakness: "Sorry, kid, but you know too much."
Quest: Escape the guild.

People: Friends in Low Places
Power: Back-alley Brawling
Power: Improvised Hideout
Weakness: Second Class Citizen
Quest: Improve the family's standing.

Skill or Trade: Infiltrator
Power: Sneaky
Power: Observant
Weakness: Distrusted by Highbred
Quest: Find someone to place your trust in.

Trait: Clever
Power: Polyglot
Power: People Reader
Weakness: "Sorry, kid, but you know too much."
Quest: Escape the guild.

This moved the origins of the character to Qadira, since Taldor had a long conflict with that part of Golarion, and I read in the player guide that the locals still have some issues with Keleshites or their descendants.

So the character's family (the "unusual" full family - father, mother, a pair of siblings) essentially lives in slums due to their origins, trying to make due but they keep being pushed back down when the catch a break because Qadiran origins. (Qadiran scum)

So this character is forced to make some quick money from a young age, going to usual route - small-time crime (cloak and dagger theme). They don't live with their family anymore (to not throw suspicion their way), and are kind of squatting around town. In sewers, on rooftops, in abandoned buildings at the docks, etc (Improvised hideout).

So they work for some local crime organisation, but are of a curious mind. At some point, they read/overhead/see something they should not, and has to get scarce. (Weakness: "Sorry, kiddo, but you know too much." + Quest:Escape the guild)

So they SOMEHOW (I admit I did not figure out this part yet) end up working for another shady organisation, but this time their strings are pulled by one of the govt' more clandestine actors. Perhaps even unbeknownst to this new organisation. They might just be sabotaging other crime syndicates and consider it a turf war.

So that's about where I got. Hope that sheds some insight. I have more notes in the specific spoilers.

I think I see how the theme tag and the "I know a guy" tag would be used. I don't know when you'd use the "improvised hideout" tag, can you give me some suggestions for how it would be used to help you on an action roll?

The "second class citizen" weakness looks straightforward. The Quest looks fine too, I can see some choices having to be made between what's best for family and what's best for the mission :)

Improvised hideout would be something like finding a place to sleep or hide quickly when the situation calls for it. I tried to go for synergies here, at the cost of not being a jack of all trades, but instead trying to apply more tags to rolls when it makes sense narratively. In this case, it would be improvised hideout + get off the street, etc. Hope that makes sense?

Sounds like this is more than a pet, some sort of familiar? The "sharp talons" tag is simple enough, I can see that coming into play for combat. The "linked minds" is a bit more complex but it will do.

The "Qadiran scum!" weakness - is your character Quadiran, or are they prejudiced against Quadirans? Also, I'm not sure how this weakness ties into this theme. How does having a falcon and being Quadiran relate?

The Quest isn't one I can see you marking as a Milestone very often, unless it's your plan to have a theme that you will be marking Abandon on quite regularly?

Yes, the bird would be more akin to a familiar than a simple pet. The linked minds tag is for something like the ability of the character and the familiar to be able to communicate reliably, perhaps even share senses. Let me know if that works for you.

Qadiran scum - yes, the character is of Qadiran origins, and Taldor supposedly doesn't like them that much. That's why one of their quests is to raise the family status.

Yeah, the quest is a WIP. I kind of walled myself in with this one. I need to think on it some more, but I'm very open to suggestions.

I can see "sneaky" having a lot of use, I'm not sure about "get off the street!" Can you give me a bit more detail of what that one might be used for?

I'm also wondering how the "recluse" weakness would come into play, you only get XP by having the weakness used against you and so it would help if I understood how that could happen. Also, I'm not sure that "recluse" and "friends in low places" is fully consistent but if you're happy that your character fits both then go for it.

The Quest "uncover a plot" will definitely see use in this AP! I guess I'm wondering if you would ever mark Abandon on this one? It may not matter of course but I'm just throwing that out there.

I guess recluse is not the right word. What I had in mind was something like Mistrusted in high circles, if that makes sense.

The plot quest - I could link this to the guild they are running from somehow. Again, more than willing to do a back and forth and see what we end up.

Again I can see how that tag would be used, and the "polyglot". I don't know how "book scrounger" would be used in play, can you give me an example of what action(s) that might help with?

The weakness is nicely evocative - and that quest, ok you had my interest but now you have my attention :D

Tell me more about this guild you need to escape!

book scrounger - yeah this is another WIP. I would actually like to switch it to something like Discern intent.

Guild - I dropped some details up in the backstory spoiler. I can expand on it, if we want to.

People: Friends in low Places

Powers:
-Improvised Hideout
-"I know a guy"

Weakness: Second Class Citizen

Quest: Improve the family's standing

Companion: Falconeer

Powers:
-Linked Minds
-Sharp Talons

Weakness: "Qadiran Scum!"

Quest: Operate an aviary

Skill or Trade: Cloak and Dagger

Powers:
-Sneaky
-"Get off the street!"

Weakness: Recluse

Quest: Uncover a plot

Trait: Clever

Powers:
-Polyglot
-Book Scrounger

Weakness: "Sorry, kiddo, but you know too much."

Quest:Escape the guild