About Percival YorikMy rage is not that of some frothing tribesman. It is the cold silence that follows your questions, the knowledge that you will get no warning before I kill you. Your shrieks and wails will invariably give way to pleading, but you will find no clemency. Any idiot can throw a tantrum. My wrath is like doom: inescapable, and unrelenting. Appearance:
A man wanders into town, clad in a long dark robe. The quality of the cloth is quite high, and his shirt underneath is colorful and impressive. His long hair blows dramatically in the wind. His boots bear the dust of a thousand miles, his eyes the experience of a thousand sights far beyond the conception of any of the locals. The finely crafted sword swinging at his belt, which must be more expensive than half the village put together, warns the toughest men in town not to mess with him when he takes the best seat at the local tavern. He is the most dangerous man any villager will ever meet, and the most interesting, somehow able to solve problems which have been plaguing the village for centuries in a few days. He is back on the road before the dawn is grey, leaving only a memory behind. That is everything Percival wishes were true about himself. His hair, which he has been growing his whole life, must have been extremely inconvenient when he worked in the mines, but a real adventurer has hair that flows in the wind, and so does Percival. His long dark cloak is not particularly well made, nor is the sword at his side, but they are the best he can afford, and he wears them with pride. He sits with good posture, his large frame filling the chair and ussually putting his head a few inches above anyone else's at the table. When Percival picks up a cup for a drink, his pinky finger never touches it, a fact which has earned him no end of grief from his friends and other regulars of the tavern. But a seasoned adventurer would have nothing to fear, and so neither does Percival. His plain white shirt is the brightest and cleanest he can afford, and does its best to set him apart from the other townsfolk.
Backstory:
Unlike most people, Percival's father seemed to enjoy Diamond Lake. He had been on the verge of being imprisoned for his debts when he first arrived, but soon managed to pay them off. Something about the endless dark and hard labour of the mines seemed to appeal to him; the very difficulty which made others wish to turn away motivating him to prove himself, and prove himself he did. Eventually, he was promoted to a foreman, and with his newfound coins he was able to keep some savings and eventually start renting a room at the southwest extremity of town. It wasn't the nicest dwelling, but plenty of people did worse. In that house he married Percival's mother, and into that house Percival himself was born. Percival grew up a truant, but one with a keen wit and honeyed words. He was a small and slight child, often in danger of getting picked on by the older kids, but rarely unable to escape unharmed. He developed a ring of his own friends around him, other kids who enjoyed a bit of mischief and a laugh at another's expense. They eventually went to school under Velias Childramun together, and made his life substantially more difficult. Not that anyone's life was ever easy in Diamond Lake. Velias saw great potential squandered in Percival. Percival had shown some magical talent from a young age, and was a quick learner, but found it difficult to concentrate. Whenever he messed up he was quickly scolded, and though other children might have moved on easily, Percival took it to heart. And mess up he did, often and loudly. His relationship with Velias wasn't an antagonistic one, but Percival didn't seem to think it could be a positive one either. He rarely tried his hardest, and suffered for it. By the time he was ten, Percival knew he wanted to leave Diamond Lake. The other kids began to seem increasingly small minded as they grew older, while Percival's own ambitions grew with each passing year. He would not squander his life in this small and mean stain of a town. His father often showed him small minerals and other curios he'd taken from the mines as though they were the most interesting things in the world. It was depressing. Percival saw what the future might hold for him, he saw he drudgery, the long, restless grinding days without hope of betterment, the life spent scraping out an existence from hard rocks and hoping that, one day, it might finally be over. Percival would not become his father, he would rage and fight and kick before letting that be his fate. At first, Percival thought he would be a merchant, sailing the world and selling jewelry in far off lands about which he could only dream. He had his own small jewel, a little red ruby ring that he had found in the mud one day. He had to hide it from his parents, for he guessed they would've sold it, and from the other kids, who would've been jealous, but sometimes, when he was alone in his room, he watched the sunset alone and pondered the little stone. When he was a merchant, he told himself, he would have one ring just like this on each hand, and a big sapphire on a golden cord around his neck. He would live on a big ship, with a small and loyal crew composed of a few of his closer friends. It would be his castle, and it would sail the world. As he grew older, Percival began to have a new dream. Perhaps, instead of being a merchant, he might be someone more free. An adventurer, wandering like the wind, strong an ox, brave in battle and well liked among women. And strong he was becoming, no longer a small and slight child, Percival was now promising to be tall and broad shouldered, like his distant ancestors from the far north. His four close friends were impressed with his stature, and next to him they felt brave enough that he could convince them to share his dreams. Indeed, the mischief Percival got up to with that lot, including making moonshine at age fourteen and selling it for a tidy profit to seedy criminals, could quite seriously be considered adventure. But it wasn't right, not in Percival's mind, it was grimy and small, and nothing grand came of it. Percival's father liked that his son was growing to be big and strong, too, for it takes strong arms and rough hands to swing a pick all day down in the mines. It wasn't so much that his father wanted Percival to become a miner, he just didn't believe a better life was something in Percival's future. Life before Diamond Lake had been hard for him, and he had at least found a measure of economic stability. His slightly privileged position as foreman was enough to satisfy his ambitions, for him, Diamond Lake was a life. For Percival, it was temporary suicide. He wasn't alive, not really, not when nothing he did had any meaning because he could never rise out of the mud and dust of Diamond Lake. When his father asked him, on his fifteenth birthday, to come help him down in the mines, it set his teeth on edge, but it was also a way to make some quick coin. And besides, adventurer's had to be tough. The toughest men Percival had ever seen were all miners, men whose hands were hardened lumps of bone, whose backs were broad and stiff from swinging a pick, and whose eyes were fixed in a permanent squint from spending too much time in the dusty air of the mines. All his close friends were doing it too, so in the end, it really seemed like a good idea. Percival spent his sixteenth year hard at work under his father's direction, greatly increasing the family income. By the time he was twenty, Percival's dreams of becoming an adventurer had been slowly crushed out of him. He followed the same rhythms of life, just like everyone else. His four close childhood friends had become close mates who worked in the same mining team, and together they frequented the Feral Dog. Between his father being foreman, his natural strength and propensity for breaking rocks, and the workers near him being good friends, Percival had been able to resign himself to life in Diamond Lake. Then everything exploded. Percival went down in the mines for a week long sting, the longest he could remember. It had been a hard month, Percival and his father had spent somewhat more than they should have on alcohol and loose bets, and then the rent went up, and like that their savings had been halved. So Percival had volunteered to double his shift, spending what seemed like an eternity down in the choking, claustrophobic mine shafts. He nearly forgot the look of the sunset, and when he finally did return home he went straight to his room. He would slip on that beautiful, furious red ring and watch the sun slowly sink below the horizon. Only his ring was gone. Percival's anger nearly boiled over, but he mastered himself. Right there, in that room, he realized that all his old ambitions and dreams had been real. And they hadn't gone away, they hadn't magically vanished, they had simply been surpressed by the hard reality of life. Quickly, while his blood was still hot, Percival made a vow never to set foot in the mines again. His parents didn't like that. His father was older than he had been when he first arrived, and drank more, so he wasn't able to work as long or as hard as in the past. Things would be tight, he said, if Percival left, and they would suffer. That wasn't going to be enough to stop Percival, he wouldn't have his dreams crushed again. The enduring fury he felt at that thought was enough to drive him to act irrationally. He gathered his four childhood friends, and they together mixed another gallon of moonshine. It would be stiffly ready when they got back, he said. His plan was to use the small savings they had to journey to Greyhawk, and from there get hired on a boat bound for Wintershiven, in the northern end of the Pale. Percival remembered stories of a great uncle from Djekul, in the land of the Frost Barbarians, and he would find this uncle, or his descendants. Percival thought this quest to find his ancestor would make him an adventurer. Indeed, he would have to cross the Troll fens, and then scale the highest peaks of the Griff mountains, which rake the sky. Two of his friends agreed to go with him, and two stayed behind. The plan worked perfectly until they got to Wintershiven. They made it to Greyhawk successfully, and somehow got hired on a merchant ship despite absolutely no sailing or swimming experience of any kind. It was like his dreams were coming true, and somehow everything in his life seemed to be going well. He exchanged letters with his parents, they missed him, and wished he would come home, but told him that they were doing better. They had moved to a smaller room now that he was gone, and his father had quit drinking altogether. Percival was glad, and he and his two friends proved adaptable, learning how to climb riggings and tie knots quite quickly. They set out from Wintershiven full of hope, for this was the high point of their lives. They made camp with a group of soldiers on the outskirts of the Troll fens, thinking themselves safe. They were not. Percival was struck on the back of the head with a rock, knocking him unconscious, before anyone knew anything was the matter. He awoke underneath a soldier's corpse, spared by fate and dumb luck. There were two other survivors, both badly wounded soldiers who had been chased off a small cliff. Percival was still badly concussed and had a hard time walking. He did his best to help them, bringing them as much food as he could scavenge from the camp, but he had to leave them behind. One was understanding, and predicted that they would all die if he tried to carry them back. The other wasn't. He raged and screamed until he was purple faced for Percival not to leave them to die. Percival took a fallen sablewood spear and made it back to civilization alive, never learning their eventual fates. t was then that the sorrow and horror of what had happened hit him. He had been concerned with survival at first, but now that that was no longer a pressing issue, he felt the bereavement of his friend. They had been defeated utterly and completely in their very first trial, before even reaching the foothills of the Rakers. He shook his fist at those peaks now, and cursed his own name for leading his friends to their deaths, and for abandoning the soldiers to their fates. Percival could not make the ground shake hard enough, nor could he do anything to alleviate his sorrows. His dreams of adventure dashed terribly and quickly, Percival did the only thing he could do. He went home. His two other close childhood friends were saddened to hear of the death's of their companions, but Percival didn't share much detail about what happened. All he told them was that they had been killed by trolls, and that he wished not to speak of it any longer. They drank their moonshine in depressing silence. But Percival is a man of his word. When he watched the sunset the next day, he knew he could never go back down to the mines, not as a miner. He would avenge his fallen friends one day, but first, first he must learn to be a proper adventurer. Woe to any who get in his way.
Statblock:
NG Male Human Primalist Metamagic Rager Bloodrager 1 Init +1; Perception +4; Low Light Vision
Offense Speed 40 ft, 30 ft in armor
Statistics Str 18, Dex 12, Con 15, Int 13, Wis 10, Cha 13
Skills:
Adventuring skills: 12/12
Background skills: 4/4
The bloodrager’s class skills are Acrobatics (Dex), Climb (Str), Craft (Int), Handle Animal (Cha), Intimidate (Cha), Knowledge (arcana) (Int), Perception (Wis), Ride (Dex), Spellcraft (Int), Survival (Wis), and Swim (Str).
Equipment:
Starting Gold: 105 Gold spent on gear: 97.97 Gold remaining: 0 GP Carrying Capacity:
Combat gear: 75.1 gp, 50 lbs
Non-Combat Gear, carried: 22.84 GP, 44.5 lbs
Currency: 0 gp, 0 lbs Class Features, traits, and feats:
Proficiencies - Martial weapons, Medium armor, shields, no spell failure chance Bloodline - Arcane ------Disruptive Bloodrage - +2 DC to cast defensively against me Bloodrage - 9 rounds/day (+1 from favored class) Fast Movement - +10 ft speed Tough Minded - +1 will saves vs mind affecting Creature of Darkness - low light vision Raging Vitality - +2 con when raging, can rage while unconcious Deft Maneuvers - +2 CMB/CMD and no AoO with trip, disarm, dirty trick, feint, reposition, and steal maneuvers Uncanny Dodge - never flat footed Tough Minded You gain a +1 trait bonus on all Will saves made to resist mind-affecting effects. Creature of Darkness Your time spent working in the mines of Diamond Lake has accustomed your eyes to the darkness.
Deft Maneuvers New. You do not provoke an attack of opportunity when performing a trip, disarm, dirty trick, feint, reposition, or steal combat maneuver. In addition, you receive a +2 bonus on checks with these combat maneuvers. Now a prerequisite for the relevant greater combat maneuver feats. Raging Vitality Whenever you are raging, the morale bonus to your Constitution increases by +2. Your rage does not end if you become unconscious. While unconscious you must still expend rounds of rage per day each round. Weapon and Armor Proficiency Bloodragers are proficient with all simple and martial weapons, light armor, medium armor, and shields (except tower shields). A bloodrager can cast bloodrager spells while wearing light armor or medium armor without incurring the normal arcane spell failure chance. This does not affect the arcane spell failure chance for arcane spells received from other classes. Like other arcane spellcasters, a bloodrager wearing heavy armor or wielding a shield incurs a chance of arcane spell failure if the spell in question has somatic components. Bloodline Each bloodrager has a source of magic somewhere in his heritage that empowers his bloodrages, bonus feats, and bonus spells. Sometimes this source reflects a distant blood relationship to a powerful being, or is due to an extreme event involving such a creature somewhere in his family’s past. Regardless of the source, this influence manifests in a number of ways. A bloodrager must pick one bloodline upon taking his first level of bloodrager. Once made, this choice cannot be changed. When choosing a bloodline, the bloodrager’s alignment doesn’t restrict his choices. A good bloodrager could come from an abyssal bloodline, a celestial bloodline could beget an evil bloodrager generations later, a bloodrager from an infernal bloodline could be chaotic, and so on. Though his bloodline empowers him, it doesn’t dictate or limit his thoughts and behavior. The bloodrager gains bloodline powers at 1st level, 4th level, and every 4 levels thereafter. The bloodline powers a bloodrager gains are described in his chosen bloodline. For all spell-like bloodline powers, treat the character’s bloodrager level as the caster level. At 6th level and every 3 levels thereafter, a bloodrager receives one bonus feat chosen from a list specific to each bloodline. The bloodrager must meet the prerequisites for these bonus feats. At 7th, 10th, 13th, and 16th levels, a bloodrager learns an additional spell derived from his bloodline. These spells are in addition to the number of spells given on Table: Bloodrager. These spells cannot be exchanged for different spells at higher levels. If the bloodrager takes levels in another class that grants a bloodline, the bloodlines must be the same type, even if that means that the bloodline of one of the classes must change. Subject to GM discretion, the bloodrager can change his former bloodline to make them conform. Bloodline Mutations: Although heirs to similar arcane bloodlines may share commonalities, the unique circumstances in which a bloodline enters a bloodrager or sorcerer’s lineage can result in the manifestation of particularly strange or unusual bloodline powers known as mutations. Whenever a bloodrager or a sorcerer gains a new bloodline power, she can swap her bloodline power for a bloodline mutation whose prerequisites she meets. Once this choice is made, it cannot be changed, and a bloodrager or sorcerer cannot swap a bloodline power that she has altered or replaced with an archetype for a bloodline mutation. A bloodrager need not be in a bloodrage to use her bloodline mutation powers. Alternatively, a bloodrager or sorcerer can select a bloodline mutation in place of a bloodline bonus feat, provided her class level is at least equal to the level of the bloodline ability the mutation normally replaces. The list of bloodline mutations can be found here. Source: PPC:MTT Disruptive Bloodrage (Su) At 1st level, the DC to cast spells defensively increases by 2 for enemies within your threatened area. This increase stacks with that granted by the Disruptive feat. Bloodrage (Su) The bloodrager’s source of internal power grants him the ability to bloodrage. At 1st level, a bloodrager can bloodrage for a number of rounds per day equal to 4 + his Constitution modifier. At each level after 1st, he can bloodrage for 2 additional rounds per day. Temporary increases to Constitution (such as those gained from bloodraging or spells like bear’s endurance) don’t increase the total number of rounds that a bloodrager can bloodrage per day. The total number of rounds of bloodrage per day is renewed after resting for 8 hours, although these hours need not be consecutive. A bloodrager can enter a bloodrage as a free action. While in a bloodrage, a bloodrager gains a +4 morale bonus to his Strength and Constitution, as well as a +2 morale bonus on Will saves. In addition, he takes a –2 penalty to Armor Class. The increase to Constitution grants the bloodrager 2 hit points per Hit Die, but these disappear when the bloodrage ends and are not lost first like temporary hit points. While bloodraging, a bloodrager cannot use any Charisma-, Dexterity-, or Intelligence-based skills (except Acrobatics, Fly, Intimidate, and Ride) or any ability that requires patience or concentration. A bloodrager can end his bloodrage as a free action. When the bloodrage ends, he’s fatigued for a number of rounds equal to twice the number of rounds spent in the bloodrage. A bloodrager cannot enter a new bloodrage while fatigued or exhausted, but can otherwise enter bloodrage multiple times during a single encounter or combat. If a bloodrager falls unconscious, his bloodrage immediately ends, placing him in peril of death. Bloodrage counts as the barbarian’s rage class feature for the purpose of feat prerequisites, feat abilities, magic item abilities, and spell effects. Fast Movement (Ex) A bloodrager’s land speed is faster than is normal for his race by 10 feet. This benefit applies only when he is wearing no armor, light armor, or medium armor, and not carrying a heavy load. Apply this bonus before modifying the bloodrager’s speed due to any armor worn or load carried. This bonus stacks with any other bonuses to the bloodrager’s land speed. 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. He still loses his Dexterity bonus to AC if immobilized. A bloodrager with this ability can still lose his Dexterity bonus to AC if an opponent successfully uses the feint action against him.
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