Alchemist

Preston Sucner's page

11 posts. Alias of ScorchedOne.


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This will be the Swashbuckler submission for ScorchedOne. I may change picture at a later time, but for now it works.


To note, my relevant details are in this character profile. I'm quite mad, you see.


I had once imagined this character in a Strange Aeons game, and would love to see that realized.


Every time you guys post I'm like "OOH! Selections are up!"

Then they aren't and I'm disappointed again. And now I'm part of the problem, but it needed to be said.


GM Phntm888:
Well it involves weeping over someone and a curious magical sparkling, but I can write it up proper if you'd like. Miesalo is still listed as priest in residence for the aforementioned temple, which is listed in an appropriate reference book for good old Varisia as being active in Roderic's Cove. I thought having ties to the location might help.


Preston should be complete. I welcome any further critiques or comments.


Phntm888:
I'll be sure to modify the class line, don't know why it didn't include that. Yes, FCB is +1 HP. I'll remove the offending passage from personality. I'll have to review the PG to see those tidbits. Perhaps if I was the Audrahni's Ally feat instead, I know it mentioned her under the Ashava entry, my mistake there.


ScorchedOne's submission. Still a WIP but I will be working on it as the day progresses.


Alas! I perhaps thought that being ranged might have helped my chances, seems it did not. Enjoy, all.


Yes, I believe Preston is human. Barring some half breed blood surfacing.


Character:
Preston knows who he is, or at least thinks he does. He is a scientist! He knows alchemy, and can make things into other things. He says that he knows the secrets of life itself! So of course people think he's mad. He was locked up and tends to rant at length about topics that sound much like babbling to others, but he's completely sane! Sort of. He can't really remember much from his past, but he remembers alchemy! So he must have been a very important alchemist, right?

His actual history is more reclusive. He had a family, which is who committed him. He became obsessed, searching for secrets that he swears he was on the verge of discovering. He would stop eating, stop sleeping for days at a time, all to research, and it drove him to the brink of madness, or perhaps beyond. That is why he is in the asylum. There may be more secrets to learn, but that which he does not know is currently locked off from him.

Idea:
Alchemist (Homunculist). Don't really have much of an idea beyond the start, probably continue alchemist for most if not all of it.

RP Sample:
Dressed in his finery, Preston stood before the academic board. "So you see, gentlemen, the secret was blood! Human blood, of course, not animal. You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs, as they say. You must contribute an amount of blood, preferably your own, in order to achieve new life! This isn't to say you couldn't use sacrifice or others to gather this blood, but I worry the intent would be clouded if you used unwilling blood." He waited for the appreciative nods, and waited. Why weren't they saying anything, or asking questions? His expression of calm threatened to break as his face itched, he restrained his hand from reaching up to scratch, cheek twitching in aggravation. "So you see, we can create new life! What was once the purview of gods or necromancers can now be made by science! The limits are only in our imagination! Which is not to say we cannot be limited, we are technically bound by volume of materials and blood, but with practice I think we can perfect this!" Still no response. What was wrong with these people? He was handing them the secrets to life itself, perhaps to immortality!

From across his cell, the assemblage of dead rats and flies looked back with their cold, empty eyes. They were unimpressed with his presentation, as it would not bring them back from their dead state. They were also not the academic board of the local academy of sciences. His voice echoed from the walls back to himself, and warped to words of congratulations. A grin spread across his lips as within the straight-jacket his hands clasped imagined handshakes, his back bent to the congratulatory slaps that were not there.