About Rojava Brishen
Female Human Bard (Archaeologist) 4 / Inquisitor (Sanctified Slayer) 1
CG Medium Humanoid (Human)
Init +3; Senses Perception +10, Sense Motive +6
Starknife: +7 / 1d4+4
Birthmark: +2 vs Charm & Compulsion Effects, Divine Focus
Fate's Favored: Whenever you are under the effect of a luck bonus of any kind, that bonus increases by 1.
Maestro of the Society: +3 Rounds Perform/Day
Point-Blank Shot: You are especially accurate when making ranged attacks against close targets.
Precise Shot: You are adept at firing ranged attacks into melee.
Quick Draw: You can draw weapons faster than most.
Skills (40 points; 40 class, 5 INT, 5 Skilled, 10 Background)
SKILL Total + Ability Mod. + Ranks + Misc.
Acrobatics* +9 = DEX 3+3+3
*ACP applies to these skills
Bardic Knowledge: +2 to all knowledge skills. May make knowledge skill checks untrained.
Clever Explorer: +2 to Disable Device and Perception checks.
Stern Gaze: +1 to Intimidate and Sense Motive checks.
Languages Common, Varisian
Archaeologist's Luck: (13 Rounds / Day)
Archaeologist’s Luck: +1 (Ex):
Bardic Knowledge (Ex)
Clever Explorer (Ex):
Uncanny Dodge (Ex):
Trap Sense +1 (Ex):
Arcane Pool (Su):
INQUISITOR (Sanctified Slayer)
Desna's Shooting Star:
Studied Target (Ex):
Stern Gaze (Ex):
Monster Lore (Ex):
Liberation Domain (Desna)
0th (at will)
Cure Light Wounds
0 (at will)
Protection from Evil
Money 16 GP 2 SP 0 CP
Rojava and her slightly older, almost-identical twin sister Francesca were born a little more than halfway between Nybor and Sandpoint in the back of a wagon. It wasn’t quite time yet but the sisters, especially Rojava, always seem to be in a hurry and this was no exception. They were identical except for the birthmark centered on the back of Rojava’s neck. It bore an odd resemblance to a butterfly, as if one had perched on the back of her neck to hitch a ride.
The Brishen sisters’ parents made a living by traveling back and forth between Sandpoint and several of the smaller towns around Ember Lake. They sold goods brought in to Sandpoint’s harbor, a few luxury items and other goods, that were hard to get in Varisia’s interior. They made the trip every couple of months, so the sisters grew up in Nybor, Sandpoint, and the roads in between.
As the next few years passed, the sisters remained perfect copies of each other in appearance (except for that birthmark), but began to diverge in personality. Francesca was the more serious and responsible of the two, while Rojava was flighty and eclectically curious. Fran was more introverted and bookish. Rojava was gregarious and never sat still. The sisters were almost perfect complimentary companions though. Rojava was a talker, and Fran was a good listener. Rojava always found ways to create fun. Fran was always there to help Rojava out of her scrapes.
The birthmark grew strangely over time. It’s size kept pace with Rojava’s growth, never becoming less prominent. It also became better defined. What was originally a butterfly-shaped splotch became ever more clearly a butterfly. By the time Rojava was 8, it was even taking on multiple colors. That year Rojava’s parents took her to the temple in Sandpoint. There was obviously something beyond the mundane involved. The Desnan priest at the temple examined Rojava and, except for the birthmark itself, found nothing out of the ordinary. Still, he believed that there must be some reason for the child to be marked so clearly with Desna’s sign. He suggested that Rojava should remain at the temple in case time could lead to further discoveries. Rojava’s parents declined. They believed she was too young to be away from them and did not want to separate the sisters.
Another 4 years passed, and by that time the birthmark was as clearly a swallowtail butterfly as anything a fine tattooist could have produced. Rojava had always loved music and sang or hummed almost compulsively. By age 12 she was showing signs of developing a fine singing voice. She also had a talent for poetry and rhymes. From time to time the Priest in Sandpoint would check in with the family, but Rojava’s parents continued to resist leaving her at the temple.
Her parents changed their minds after she went missing on one of their trips to Sandpoint. Rojava became interested in an elk and followed it away from their camp. Her family searched for 2 days without finding her before she turned up on her own. She was hungry and footsore, but otherwise unbothered by being lost in the wilderness for so long. In fact she claimed she hadn’t been lost at all. Rojava had wandered on a whim before, but never for so long and so far away. At least at the temple in Sandpoint she couldn’t wander off into dangerous places as easily as she could on the road. On reaching Sandpoint, her parents contacted the priest and made arrangements for her to stay at the temple. Rojava has been there for almost 6 years now, seeing her parents and sister a few times a year when they come to town.
At first she was terribly lonely and restless. The loss of her sister as a companion was very hard for her. Then only a few months after her arrival, the chapel fire brought other difficulties. She doesn’t remember Father Tobyn with any particular fondness, but that probably has more to do with her difficult transition than anything about the priest himself.
With the arrival of Father Zantus things improved. Rojava began an intensive charm campaign against him that, despite some occasional setbacks, has paid off for her. With some time Rojava and Father Zantus found an equilibrium. Father Zanthus feels like he is making progress with her, and she has a fair amount of freedom to blow off steam when she feels too confined at the temple. Rojava does have to credit her education there for the gift of the word "ironic" to describe the fact that she, marked by Desna and all, is cooped up at the temple, while her sister is the one who has been traveling all this time.
Appearance and Personality:
Height: 5'6" Weight: 135 Hair: Sandy Blond Eyes: Hazel
Rojava is average of height and just on the slender side of a curvy average build. Her hair is a sandy mixture of light brown and blonde, which she usually keeps bobbed short. She has hazel brown eyes and a lighter complexion that includes a scattering of freckles. Rojava usually has a smile on her face, and her bearing is open, friendly, and confident. She typically dresses for comfort. A well loved and fading pair of blue trousers, brown boots, and a loose linen shirt beneath a maroon doublet is a favorite outfit.
Rojava’s defining characteristics are her immense curiosity and her love of people. There are very few things about which she cannot find something interesting. But, with so many potentially interesting things around, it is easy for her attention to wander rapidly from one thing to the next. She has been a fine enough student at the temple, but books require more focus than she is usually willing to give. Rojava prefers direct experiences and is a sensorial hedonist. She can lose herself in sights, sounds, aromas, and tactile experiences and believes this is the best way to learn.
She sees the best aspects of people and considers strangers to be friends she hasn’t made yet. Her optimism and enthusiasm win many over, but for those it doesn’t impress she can become irritating. Common working people are closest to Rojava’s heart. She thinks of the repetitive toil and drudgery of their work as a type of spiritual slavery, and she nurses something of a grudge against their employers for imposing it on them. If it can be said that Rojava truly dislikes anyone in town, it would be the Scarnetti family. She has been known to sometimes sneak down to the docks and spend a couple of hours walking about among the longshoremen and other workers while singing and playing her rebec to ease and speed along their workday.
There are some less positive aspects to Rojava’s personality. Being such an optimist doesn’t leave her well equipped to deal with sadness or true tragedy. She had only been in Sandpoint a few months when the Chapel burned during the Misgivings. The fire and Father Tobyn’s death in it were very scary events that Rojava never completely processed. She still has occasional nightmares about it. One way that she reacts to such things is to write songs about them, and she has a journal that contains several such songs that she does not perform.
If presented with a frustrating situation where she is unable to find a positive side or a solution, Rojava's view can swing 180 degrees. She can be intensely negative and despondent in her reactions to it.
Although she isn’t a mischief-maker, Rojava can cause a fair amount of it due to her curiosity and outgoing nature. Sheriff Hemlock knows her name for more than her singing.
Grabbing up her stuff, Rojava hurries out of the temple and across the square out front. It’s still early morning, and people are just beginning to arrive for the festival. The vendors, who have been working since sunup to get their booths and stalls set up and ready, are mostly finished.
She almost shivers with excitement as she thinks about all the fun to come. The feeling had been building for a few days now. Last night Rojava was too worked up to get to sleep, so she dyed a couple of bands of her hair Desnan blue for the day. Reaching the far end of the square, she heads quickly down the street to where High and Tower Streets converge, and starts setting herself up by the road fork. It’s a good place to catch people as they arrive for the festival, and also far enough away from the temple that Father Zantus won’t hear when she performs songs that he doesn’t really approve of.
The Swallowtail Festival is really Desna’s day, so she has always had some official-ish role to play in it. She would be singing later on today for it. But starting last year she decided to branch out and start adding her own personal touches to the festivities. Rojava takes out and unfolds a large, floppy red felt hat and drops it upside down on the ground. It’s a terribly ugly thing, but it’s for collecting not wearing. Rule of Busking #6: people don’t drop coinage if they don’t see where to drop it.
Just a quick show, three songs, okay maybe four, and then back to the temple square. Nobody will even notice I was gone. Father Zantus doesn’t really mind her performing around town on the condition that she donates any money that she makes to the temple.
After all, you don’t have to pay for your way here and you’re even provided with a stipend for personal needs he's said more than once. Well Father Zantus Sir, the decent rebec I need isn’t ever going to get bought on that stipend, and you just don’t understand the difference it will make for my playing. Besides I always do donate anything I get, minus the cost of a drink sometimes. Mother Moon won’t begrudge me the proceeds of an occasional show.
Rojava warms up her rebec and bow, and thinks about what best to start with. If you want a crowd’s attention and don’t have it yet, go with something familiar and well loved…. Alright, “Harvest Time” should do. She starts playing the opening chords of the song and calls out to the people passing by: Good morning Ladies and Sirs, and welcome to Sandpoint’s Swallowtail Festival! I’m Rojava Brishen, Lady Desna’s concierge, and I’m here to lighten your steps on the way to the grand new temple! It’s early yet, so stop for a moment and listen to some music!
With that she launches into “Harvest Time’s” lyrics. A few people stop to listen to the familiar and cheerful tune, and they draw in a few more curious passersby. Rojava strolls over to about 10 feet from the collection hat. Rule of Busking #8: Don't hover over the collection container. It scares the shy ones off from adding something.
With the first song’s mission accomplished, Rojava launches straight into her next song. It is a jaunty, comedic, and slightly racy number about drinking too much applejack and waking up in strange places the next day. Father Zantus really doesn’t care for this one. She has this song down cold. It’s several months old now and Rojava knows it is a crowd pleaser, perfect for getting people’s blood pumping.
She scans the crowds’ faces as she saws on the rebec tucked into her shoulder and sings her description of meeting a man she could have swore was Cayden Cailean himself until the next day's light, and then well… never mind. She locks eyes with a good-looking young man who’s watching in the crowd. Rojava widens her smile just a tad and shoots him a wink.
Rojava’s voice is lower and smokier than her appearance would suggest. While not slight of build, her contralto and volume are what one would expert from a larger frame. Her youth and buoyancy belie the earthy richness of her voice. She can sing a song clean, but she thinks there’s not much life in a song sung that way. She prefers to do it with a little rasp in her voice.
At the song’s end, Rojava gives the crowd a small quick bow and chirps out to the crowd's scattered applause Thank you gentle Ladies and Sirs for the coins you have dropped, or will drop, into the hat! Your gratuities.., uh, half your gratuities go directly to the temple!
Rojava’s pitch is cut off by a snort of laughter over to her right, at the edge of the crowd. She shifts her eyes in that direction, and finds herself looking at her double. Well, her double if she were buffer and had long hair. Rojava squeals Fran!, and runs over to throw herself onto her sister.
Francesca takes the weight of her sister’s pounce easily. Hi there little sister, nice show she says as she places Rojava back on the ground.
I knew you’d be coming! Where are Mom and Dad? Hey sis, you’ve gotten really hard. That was like hitting a wall. All that weapon swinging and mule skinning huh? Show me your muscles.
Fran ignores that request and throws an arm over Rojava’s shoulders. I came up to fetch you. Mom and Dad are down at the wagon. We’re not staying the day.
Rojava ducks out from under Fran’s arm and gives her a shocked look. What do you mean not staying? I have plans for us! I found a guy you must meet Fran. She cocks an eyebrow at her sister. He’s really cute too. Rojava looks over to scan the now dispersing little crowd. He was just over there. I think he’s one of the porters…
Fran rolls her eyes and chuckles. Don’t do that Rojava. I mean it, really. Stop. Look, I’m sorry. I’d love to stay, but the parents aren’t having it. They say the good weather isn’t going to hold and they want to get as far east as they can before the roads turn to mud. Fran shrugs. You know how they are about crowds. The last part comes out slightly plaintive, like an apology.
Rojava, wearing a defeated look, sighs and answers Fine, but I can’t be gone more than about an hour. I’m supposed to sing today for the festival and if I’m not there for it I will get absolutely murdered.
Fran starts gathering up Rojava’s things. Hey look, you’ve got a silver and two coppers here she jokes to her sister, trying to cheer her up a little bit. I’ll make sure you get back in time. Let’s get going.