About Orvos Quinn Race:
Archtype:
Oracle Class Features:
1st - Life Mystery, Curse of Tongues (Terran), Orisons, 2nd - Life Mystery Spell = Detect Undead
Skills:
Skill Points Earned [56 = (4 Oracle, 1 Int, 1 Racial per level)7 + 14 background] Craft [Glass](INT): 11 = 7 ranks, 3 class skill, 1 ability
Feats:
Campaign - Leadership
Traits:
Pioneer (Campaign: Kingmaker) You have long lived in the shadow of wilderness. Life has been hard, but through hunting, trapping, trading, and coaxing crops from the freezing earth, you’ve learned how to survive on the rugged frontier. With the wilderness ever at your door, you’ve also learned much about its denizens and the wild creatures that lurk in that unwholesome land. Your family might even claim holdings, with elders telling stories of being driven from or robbed of a lost ancestral homestead, fertile farmlands, bountiful orchards, or a hidden mining claim. Whether because of your personal expertise and familiarity with the borderlands or in order to reclaim your family’s land, you’ve joined the expedition. Benefit You begin play with a horse. Also, choose one of the following skills: Climb, Handle Animal, Knowledge (nature), Perception, Ride, Survival, or Swim—you gain a +1 trait bonus on this skill. Devotee of the Green (Faith) Your faith in the natural world or one of the gods of nature makes it easy for you to pick up on related concepts. Benefits: You gain a +1 trait bonus on Knowledge (geography) and Knowledge (nature) checks, and one of these skills (your choice) is always a class skill for you. HP, BAB, Saves:
HP: 7d8+4 (+2 con, +1 feat, +1 favored class) hit dice, 12 + 9(6) = 66/66
Special Save Notes: Orvos get's a +2 to saves against ongoing effects such as poison, disease, or enchantments from her Aegis of Recovery. Spells:
Spells Known: * Denotes bonus spells known form life mystery or being good aligned. 0 (7)- Create Water, Light, Detect Magic, Detect Poison, Mending, Enhanced Diplomacy, Guidance
Equipment, Movement, Encumbrance:
Equipment: Head - Headband of Alluring Charisma 4000 GP
Sling (1d4/x2/Bludgeoning)
Carrying Weight: Light- 43(50*)lbs or less
*Denotes Carry weight when using masterwork backpack. Backstory:
"Orvos sounds more like a man's name." Looking up from under her thin eyebrows and long bangs the woman favored the speaker with a slight smirk. Growing up among brash and particular Rostlanders had made the statement a common occurance. She finished tying the dressing around the merchant's ankle and sat up straight again to face him. There was no doubt of her gender. Her hair was long, smooth, and fine. Dark bangs spilling across her features and swept back to her ears, with the main wealth of her hair tied into a braid that rested across her shoulder. Her frame was slender, healthy, and the dress and smock she wore betrayed a maiden's curves. Her garb was simple and unassuming, her dress a quiet tan of cotton weave and her smock a thick linen fabric that bore a few oddly colored dots from poulstice spills that had never come out. In her home she was free to sport the luxary of linen socks, which made her footsteps across the floor soft as she returns linin bandages and her ointment bottle to her desk. The bottle itself was a squat and wide piece of red glass, looking much like an oblong shaped heart. It bore the mark of a meadowlark, similar to the wooden sign over her door. "My father chose it before I was born." she explained. Her voice was soft and her tone bemused. As she went on it was clear she had said these exact words many times, "He had wanted a boy, but the name is actually of another tongue. It means doctor." The merchants expression was hard to read, as the man sported a beard so bushy and full it partially hid his lips and cheeks. This was likely intentional, but his eyes were bright and she could imagine he was smiling as he spoke. "So it's Doctor Quinn?" he asked with amusement. For all her reputation as a herbalist and village healer the woman certainly seemed the pysician in her own home. Her furniture was artisan wood with cushioned seats, her office sported a desk and a bookshelf rife with custom blown glass medicines, a collection of medical booklets, memos, and thick tomes of subject matters. "Only when not in my garden." she answered, very pleased with herself. She turned to the window, looking out across the trimmed grass of her yard to the treeline beyond. There was the soft chirps of birds about her house, as her feeders and garden attracted many of the nearby woodland avians attention. Turning her attention back to the merchant she strode over and offered the man her hand. While he wasn't aged, he was a thick barrel chested man of many years, and he had cut his leg deeply when trying to fix the axle of his wagon. He accepted, and let the woman help him to his feet. "Try to stay off your feet..." she began with practiced patience as he was unlikely to follow all or any of her advice, "...or at the very least make sure you sit when doing any bartering." He let out a huff of a laugh, betraying himself to her suspicions and she rested her hand on his shoulder. Her touch was soft, affectionate, and he met her gaze before she spoke again. "Please, at least do that much?" she asked. The man nodded, conceeding that he would at least do that much. He asked and she stated her payment before he handed her a few coppers and went on his way. This was a common occurance in her daily life. Nearby Fort Serenko promised her village no end of foot traffic. As she had said though, Orvos spent most of her time in her garden. When the village was quiet and merchants were not as common she would take her stored reagents and herbs and work in her lab to brew potions and poulstices. Very rarely in the warmer months of the year she would work her bellows, doing her glassworks in the winter months. Still, the heart shaped bottle on her desk was her newest work, having only been blown and detailed earlier in the week. She smiled. Glassblowing and shaping was a talent she had developed herself after coming to the frontier. It had been out of neccesity when she began, but she had truly grown to love the glow of molten glass and the intricate shapes it could be coaxed into with only delicate direction. Her other talents had been developed in her youth at her parents insistance. Her father Garny had been a cleric of Abadar, rigid in teaching her theology and other subjects he found more priestly. Not so much for her enjoyment she had to admit. The man had wanted a son he could meld into a proper successor, and had gotten a daughter with an Oracle's spark. Had he resented his daughter she likely would have grown to hate him, but in reality her father was simply stubborn. Not wanting to let go of his dreams he had passed on much to his daughter, and while she had chafed at instruction she still loved him deeply. Her mother had taught her much simply because her daughter had grown side by side with the plants and weeds in her garden! The woman often joked she was merely a transplant, having plucked her from the woods as a babe and put in a basket while she tended her herbs. As a toddler she wandered the green, learning dangers and benefits to plants long before she learned their names or how to write them. Huan herself was also a bit of a healer. Not a proper temple healer as her father, and bearing no divine magic. She had her poulstices though, her herbal remedies, her pills and her powders. Oh, what the woman could treat with her poweders and teas! Her mother was as soft spoken as a bird herself, always chirping and cooing at her daughter and offering gentle instruction and love. Even her rigid father could only soften in her precense. Of course, there were rare moments when her daughter would drop a carefully crafted cannister of poulstice or come home with bruises from fighting with a boy, and oh her mother would very much squack like a startled heron then! Orvos herself had made the racket herself whenever she had fought, cursing in a language foreign to most until she could calm herself. What had been pegged as a babbling child's gibberish early on was soon dicovered to be Terran. The girl thankfully found herself able to read and write it as well, lest her father have to requsition aid to teach it! For some reason, she still slipped into the tongue when engaged in confrontation. All the more reason to excercise proper tact, according to her parents. Orvos could still remember leaving home. Coming west with her seedlings and transplants. Many jars and ceramic pots of her mother's concoctions in the little wagon. Her father had bought her the horse. A young colt barely broke in, and whom his daughter had very little hope of commanding properly. She had named him Tern, spitefully giving the animal a bird's name after many hours on the road with the ingrate. He had been only the first of her newfound hardships. Digging a proper garden out of the small gnarled spit of land she had bought, settling into her cottage and clearing out almost ten years of cobwebs and rot, breaking a dozen different attempts at potion bottles before making a wholy mishapen and unsealable mess, dealing with pigheaded men deadset on festering with ailments rather than see a young waif who calls herself a healer! It was all worth it though. Years later her garden was immaculate, sporting herbs and vegetables both wild and domestic. The bredth of golarion could be found in her soil... well... what was temperate enough to grow here. Her small cottage was warm, filled with polished earthy wood, stained glass art and lamps, and a neat but charming design that well suited her work. Not only did the local villagers come to her for treatment, but they directed others her way. As did others in the fort. To top it all off, she was a member of the village council. A sign of her status and her easy way of helping the other coucilmen get along. Of course, it hadn't all been a result of her diligent day to day dealings. No, at first most everyone had ignored her. Her funds had dwindled as she paid out for what her garden could not provide. That was when the blacksmith's son had been abducted by goblins, whisked away to serve as a sacrifice for a new cheiftain and his god. A group of adventurer's had been recruited, and Orvos had gone along to keep them stitched together. At the end of the day the boy had been rescued, and he and several of the party owed the healer their lives. This ended up being the first of many small "misadventures" for the young woman. Something she had thought behind her for a while. In theory, she should have been content now. What she believed to be her ambition in life had been fullfilled. Yet she was very young, aspirations had room to grow anew, and one night an elven man had come to her door seeking aid. An adventuring wizard, among other things, and an aspiring headmaster to an acadamy! On more than one occasion he had returned, seeking regeants at first. Conversations over tea turned friendly, and soon she was receiving commisions for oils, potions, and stained glass. This friendship started some gossip amongst the villagers, but she stamped that out in time. Her latest commission for Selann was actually a glass pendant of a starling he had wanted, to serve as a memento as he left to settle in the stolen lands. Well, she was still young, and what better garden could one find than in a noble's keep? If the swordlords needed someone to settle wilderness and setup meaningful trade, she was just the person for the job. She could afford to have some of the local girls who assisted her manage her garden, and while some of her crops couldn't be managed by then she still had plenty of her seeds. It was time to put some of her divine spark to use! |
