So er, how 'incoming' is that update right now?
Edit: Looks like you got into that other gestalt CC game, so I guess this is indeed pretty dead in the water. Some warning would've been nice; could you mark the campaign as inactive then?
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Giving her friend the faint smile of someone hoping to encourage her to press on, she nodded. "Yes, let's. You have been through more than enough." She resumes walking beside the grieving daughter.
Glad to hear things are a bit better, that sounds rough. Didn't chime in mostly to wait for Dragon's post, but it never came and I kind of wandered off mentally. Hoping we haven't been abandoned though, since Dragon is still posting and around.
As the crowd dispersed, Rose shot fierce glares toward the mob through the darkness, rather furious that they had done such a thing but not wanting to further rouse the mob by insulting them anyway further. Instead, she turned her attention away from those unworthy of her time to the grieving daughter. Pulling away from Henric, Rosalind moved over to Kendra, placing a hand on her shoulder and holding it firmly. "I am sorry you had to experience that," she said lowly. "They had no right, and they were wrong about your father."
Rosalind's face lit up a little at the remark about strange things going on in the city. She'd been unaware of any, but her faith in Petros as a good man didn't waver for a second. "Or perhaps, the strange things claimed their first victim, a man taken before his time." She sucks in a deep breath, speaking more loudly as this time she adresses the crowd amassed behind the foremost man. She knew it only took one furious lunatic to rouse an uneducated, superstitious lot. "The professor was a good man! You fear him because you have no idea what his work was, not because you've any proof he 'dabbled' in anything. If you truly believe this cemetery to be sacred ground, then let the friends and family of a kind man grieve in peace! He has committed no crime, and you have allowed yourselves to be blinded by your fear."
By all means.
Rose's eyes widened with sudden fear and concern, as "rural Ustalav" reared its ugly head in even worse ways. Hateful, ignorant locals who somehow believed a good man didn't belong buried among their families as if he were a monster. As if he were anything other than a good man. A good man who had the gall to find an education and learn. For that, he wasn't allowed peace? She could tell by the sparse turnout at his funeral he likely wasn't a very popular man in Ravengro, but this was an entirely new low. Anger took her, indignant fury at these people and their hateful ignorance welling deep inside of her, and she only realized too late that it was having an adverse effect on her. Her eyes eyes blinked, opening to reveal a deep abyssal black, her pale hands shifting into a pitch colour as well, and she was thankful for the darkness and the commotion that would keep her eyes off of her. "How dare y'gh--" She felt the guttural, inhuman language leave her throat mid-word, and tried to lean into the tailspin with some coughing, as though she were sick and choking on her word. The coughs certainly didn't sound fake, spitting up a few thick strands of black bile that splattered onto the ground. Some deep breaths helped her regain herself, fingernails dug into her palm to reign it all in as she tried to speak again. To make up for her coughing fit and momentary lapse, she spoke louder, voice carrying as she tried to keep emotion for edging her words too much. "Profess Lorrimor was a great man. I don't know what you believe he did, but he has more than earned the right to be buried here, where he belongs. Your families are in no danger, and only hate and ignorance drive you to believe otherwise. Stop fearing this kind, departed soul, for he is no danger to anybody."
Profile pic works, for as much as it's frustratingly far enough off from my mental image of her.
Mage Armor has been replaced with the most useful 1st level spell in the game.
Rosalind regarded the man curiously as her barely-adjusted eyes scanned across him. If anything, his makeshift torch hurt her eyes' adjustment, giving her a glimmer of light that her gaze tried to shift toward comprehending at the expense of robbing her of more understanding of the darkness around her. A little curse left her lips and she tightened her grip to Henric in response. "Not to sound arrogant," she whispered to the other visitor, "But rural Ustalav is not a place I like to stay particularly long. Superstition has its roots here moreso than anywhere else, and it's often troubling how little higher education reaches out of the cities. Which leads to men like this."
Ouch. No worries, man. That's pretty rough.
"I did indeed receive such a mention. It would appear we've been called here for similar reasons, whatever they are." The revelation only deepened her curiosity at this whole affair, wondering what matters the professor had in store for two very disparate academics. Something seemed strange about the whole matter, adding it to a list of concerns likely to go unspoken during her stay. "Mine is a strange combination, but I believe that hidden somewhere in the middle of both fields lies some forgotten piece of information I feel I have need for." Rosalind felt she was giving away a little too much, clearing her throat and shifting conversation back to her chivalrous aid. "Understandable; I wish my own field were as conducive to alone time. Long periods of solitude by which to work on your theses and examine your objects of study must be very useful."
"Professor Lorrimor didn't have many people here in Ravengro, certainly not enough to fill out a ceremony as he deserved. Coming here was the least I could have done. Especially given the mysterious tone of the invitation; I don't believe I was merely invited to watch him be put into the ground, and I'm beginning to wonder if I'm not the only one." Her eyes became a little better at adapting to the light, but she didn't release the offered aid, neither refusing his kindness nor moving away from a rare act of aid from a stranger. She kept to such a small group of people and rarely had the chance to merely talk with strangers, so she took it where the opportunity presented itself. "Before my mother passed I served as her assistant for my undergraduate studies. I don't know how the University is going to handle the remainder of my time, but I'll likely be continuing along her path, studying arcana and religion with an emphasis on old and forgotten lore and cults. There's something of a personal interest those topics have held for me since I was very young. What's your field, that you've lucked into near-total solitude?"
"I'm sure they are," she said beneath her breath, so abnormal herself that she found the need to point out that it was the only thing to be peculiar in its own right. Not that she said anything, certainly not wanting to offend or question this kind stranger with pressing questions. Instead, she took the offered arm and began to walk, more steadily moving with his aid. She felt the tingling in her opposite arm ebb, the chill sensation across her slowly easing away and leaving her calmer, and she let out a soft sigh of relief as it faded away completely. "He was a colleague and close friend of my mother. And then, in recent years, a teacher and colleague of mine. In some capacity or another he's been a friend for most of my life. What about yourself? I don't recognize you from the University."
Rose very nearly drew upon her magic as she felt the arm against her, gasping in surprise and nearly acting on pure instinct. It was only the mention of her unsteady pace and the voice she recognized as that of the other outsider visiting for the funeral that kept her from chilling that arm down to the bone. "Thank you," she said cordially, drawing in a sharp breath and digging the fingers of the opposite hand into their palm as she felt the tingling in her arm that said panic was setting in and her skin had begun to darken. Thankfully, the light and her very modest dress would obscure it, but it was still an instinct she wanted to bite down on before she slipped into a coughing fit, or even worse, into tongues. "I'm not used to traveling by moonlight. By your notice, however, I'd say you've eyes much keener than a normal man's."
Rosalind smiled, meeting her old friend in the tight embrace of someone who clearly understood what she was going through. She held tightly onto her, patting her back and nodding. "Of course I will," she said gently. "Given certain circumstances, my leave of bereavement with the university is an open-ended situation, and I will be here for as long as you need." She didn't want to go into details about her own tragedy on a day meant for Kendra to grieve, so she kept vague and supportive, smoothing her own dress out a little and stepping away to give her space for others to offer their condolences, surprised to find it's only seemingly her and another present from out of town. During the procession she kept quiet, head hung low as she shuffled slowly along the dark cemetary path, gaze focused largely on her feet and making sure she didn't trip and embarrass herself. Not that she would say anything about it, but she silently cursed Petros for deciding his funeral ought to be at night.
That is both intriguing and worrisome.
Rosalind was thankful for the chance to change, swapping out her battered cloak and boots for a nicer dress and shoes more befitting of a funeral than a dusty tavern. Just because she was an outsider didn't mean she had to dress in poor taste, and Petros certainly deserved the respect of a well-dressed freak at his funeral. To wear something so shabby would have been a disservice to one of the few people she could call herself even remotely "close" to. She recognized the woman before her, even if the look in her eyes said that the memory was not mutual. She'd met Kendra a few times when they were both young, albeit Rosalind two years her junior. They had been friends years ago, but for a girl who clung so hard to memories and anybody who showed her even the slightest bit of warmth--and whom she fortunately hadn't vomited black bile all over--it was a little disheartening to see her now completely unaware of who she was. "It has been so long, Kendra," she said, offering her hand toward her with a solemn bow of her head. "I don not believe you remember me, not that I could blame you after all these years. Though I wish we could have met again under better circumstances. As someone who recently lost her mother, you have my deepest condolences."
Judging by our GM's defintion of "tonight" being my dinnertime, I'd say the three of us are pretty scattered, all things considered. With a party of our size we shouldn't have any problems moving forward in spite of that. The voices will definitely make things interesting, since they've both got completely different masses pesering them. I notice we've also both got strange blood; I was originally going to put Rosalind into Black-Blooded Oracle, but I didn't want to have to juggle healing between both negative and positive energy; seemed like way too big of a hassle. I'm keeping the aesthetic bits of it though, because even if I can't have them mechanically they've become a big part of her concept. Hope you're ready for things to be made a little worse when she spits up some ichor or turns pitch black at the wrong time. I didn't put anything down for age, mostly because I don't really narrow those down when I'm thinking of a character, but definitely young. Early 20s at most. Young, sheltered, and now very alone, with a low Wis to make things pretty s~&!ty for her. Between us, we've definitely got everything covered. With two full spellcasting classes, Rose is going to be a solid mix of buffs and blasting to keep us pretty solid even with the numbers disadvantage. Social skills is definitely on her, but she'll do a pretty good job at it.
Alright, cool. I'm not too attached to it if, El Ronza's not fond of the idea. Still have Mage Armor.
That would be pretty cool, though as the person who can't wear armor and would be able to save a round and a spell known on not getting Mage Armor, I'm a little biased.
Awesome, glad to hear. Should I check into the discussion thread, or will it be replaced with a fresh one?
Now that the forums are working again, Rosalind's alias has been made, and here's a repost of all the relevant stuff just so it's all in one neat place. Her Harrow card roll earlier was a 4, for reference. Backstory:
Rosalind wasn't sure what began first; the voices, or the 'changes'. They likely came very quickly after one another, but she had pushed much of those memories aside, as it was a dark and confusing time that she had trouble being entirely certain the order of. All she knew was that in her early teens, something wicked manifested inside of her, something twisted and strange. Voices haunted her dreams, dozens if not thousands of writhing voices whispering in a vile tongue that she somehow understood with perfect clarity for someone who'd never spoken a word out of Common. When awake, magical energy surged within her, something inborn that her mage mother could make neither heads nor tails of in its sheer depth; she exhibited affinity for divine magic without a single prayer said. But with it came changes, flashes of intense emotion, temporary physical changes like the blackening of her flesh or coughing up ichor. Her blood had turned black and cold, but ran through her veins all the same.
She always knew she'd been adopted; the barren wizard, Roxanna, who'd given her a home made no secret of not having given birth to the girl, who she considered her own daughter nonetheless. But her changes invoked a fiercer line of questioning, and Rosalind soon learned that she had not been innocently adopted from an orphanage as a baby, but instead handed to the scholarly mage out of fear by a group of clerics who claimed the child was off ill birth and that no church could properly care for her. Roxanna had taken her in, given her a good life and a loving home but also kept a studious eye on her. For all the years she'd watched, all she could gather was that her daughter's heritage was some manner of aberrant, but unlike anything she'd seen before. To the best of the wizard's ability, she trained her daughter in her inherent magic, fearful of what may happen if word of Rosalind's odd abilities got out. Few of the professors that Roxanna worked with were privy to Rosalind's sensitive situation, chief among them being Roxanna's dear friend Petros Lorrimor. Though he could provide little more information on her strange case than her mother could, he took an interest in it, their regular correspondence often including little notes about specific books that may contain some helpful information. It remained a curious case for the family friend, and as Rosalind grew older she began to correspond with the professor as well, even studying under him when she was of age to pursue a higher education (Campaign Trait: Teacher's Pet). Roxanna's scholarly interest in her daughter's heritage soon rubbed off on the girl, who focused her study not only on expanding her talents whether it was a wise decision or not, but also in general academia. She didn't wish to remain the subject of others' study for her whole life, and hoped that by beginning down the path of scholarly interests herself, that she could uncover the secrets about her powers, understand herself and where she came from, and what it all meant. Perhaps even find her parents, wherever and whatever they were. There were mysteries to be solved, and she believed that the answer likely lay within the layered whispers that never ceased to haunt her dreams, if only she could tune into a single voice in the gibbering chorus. When she became of age, Rosalind became an eager student at the University of Lepidstadt, where her mother taught. Her specializations were in magic and religion, hoping that some long-forgotten piece of arcane lore or dead faith may shine light on her heritage where merely studying what aberrations already existed would do her little good; perhaps the beings that called to her were more divine--or profane--than she realized, and that at least some of her magic had been granted by them. While her heritage could never be the subject of a proper paper due to Ustalav's fearful populace, Rosalind and her mother spent much of their time pouring together over any new tomes of forgotten lore they could in search of an answer. Someone had to have written something down, in the thousands of years since the written word's invention. After a guest lecture in Caliphas, Roxanna sent word to her daughter that she was in possession of a book that she believed would finally have shed light on her secret and that she would return shortly. And she did, but with a blade in her back, body left carelessly in front of the University with all of her possessions on her person--but notably, no book--and no message left. Rosalind took it as a warning, vague and wordless, perhaps not even directed knowingly at a specific individual but left for her conspirator, whomever it was. It was enough to push her from her search, at least while she grieved her dead mother and put her into the ground. It had only been a few weeks later when the magical letter appeared on her desk, telling her of her favorite professor's death. It was a much softer blow, but not easy for the young woman, already shaken by the death of her only family, to take. Still technically on bereavement leave from the university where she had become a research assistant without a professor to aid, she set out for Ravengro to pay yet another close to her farewell, with the hope that he had not encountered the same potential fate as her mother. Personality, appearance, goals, etc.:
Rosalind stands tall and slender, a wiry frame that rarely ever seems to take on much fat regardless of her eating habits--something she's chalked up to another peculiarity of her likely-not-entirely-human heritage. Usually, she drapes herself in blacks and purples, covering as much of her body as she can. Her conservative manner of dress comes less from a sense of modesty, and more from a desire to hide as much of her pallid flesh as possible, to hide the black veins that run noticeably along her body, as well as to use dark colours to contrast the occasional 'shift'--the sudden and temporary darkening of a patch of her skin into a deep, dark black.
It's at its worst during combat or times of panic. When she reaches deep into her will to draw her magic, her usually purple eyes go completely black down to the sclera and her skin changes within a matter of seconds to a dark ashen shade. When she speaks in this state, she does so in a twisted, multi-layered chorus of voices, all speaking a slithering Aklo in unison as ichor drips freely from her mouth. It's what marks her in her eyes as some manner of a monster, and knows that however harshly she may judge it, the superstitious people of Ustalav would only think less of it, so she tries her best to avoid casting spells under stressful situations or getting into fights, lest she lose control in front of someone who panics and has her burnt at the stake. Though a rather sheltered girl who grew up with few friends, she's incredibly charismatic and finds that talking to people comes easily, although it's often kept beneath a layer of acerbic wit, especially in cases of discomfort or panic. Other times, it's a convenient coping mechanism, keeping her firmly in acquaintance with people by seemig just sharp and sarcastic enough to not want to get particular close with, leaving a degree of isolation and distance from people so that her secrets are remain her own. Despite seeming outgoing, she often keeps her cards hidden, revealing little about herself or her desires. Thanks to her upbringing by a scholar and her pursuit of the same path as her mother, she is a very educated and intelligent woman, shrewd and clever, always willing to learn more or to discuss matters. Above all else, the mystery of Rosalind's origns drive her toward knowledge and discovery. Becoming a proper scholar has only somewhat weathered this obsession, but it's also given renewed focus to her studies, allowed her mind to sharpen and more keenly take information in. So long as her dreams are wracked by the strange whispers and writhing, nightmarish scenes, she will never truly be able to push the need for answers from her mind. The death of her mother has only complicated this, adding a level of urgency and danger to her quest; while it may have been unrelated, there's a chance that somebody out there doesn't want her to know about her origin, and is willing to kill for it. However, it's only steeled her resolve as she's begun to look into that possibility, motivated in part by the desire to avenge her mother's death. Whatever granted her the magic she is now fully capable of wielding is likealy a horrible source, but that doesn't mean it has to be used for nefarious purposes. Though healed by negative energy and able to wield it, she finds positive energy comes more easily to her, granting the ability to heal and help. If her magic truly is as dark as she fears, then it's all the more reason to hone it and channel it into something productive and helpful toward the greater good, to redeem her blighted powers and walk an ethical line, rather than abuse them for her own gain. In fact, it's of great importance to her that her magic be used to help people whenever the possibility arises. At least, in situations where she isn't in immediate danger and at risk of exposing her true nature. Her mother left no will or final wishes in her unceremonious and unexpected death, merely a notarized declaration from years ago that her estate automatically bequeathed to her daughter, but a great deal of business left unfinished, leaving Rosalind feeling aimless in regards to what her mother would have wanted on certain matters. This has made her summons to Ravengro even more weighty; even if all he wanted was the girl's presence at his funeral, it was a wish, something to respect, and she feels that whatever the family friend wants in the wake of his death is something to be respected and listened to greatly, giving her some direction and perhaps a strange manner of closure. At the moment, her closest friend is her pet raven, Tamerlane, who she's taken on as a familiar. Knowing her curse would complicate the situation, she taught the bird Aklo, the foul language she spouts when under duress, hoping that she could avoid some horrible communication disaster by doing so. Secret she knows: That she is not entirely human, that her magic and the strange biological quirks of her body are of something alien and unknown to mainstream knowledge. Aberrant heritage is likely, but she cannot say for certain. Whatever it is, it haunts her dreams with screaming whispers and the ceaseless, maddening writhing of a thousand tendrils.
Crunch:
Rosalind Levitainn- Human Oracle/Sorceror 1
Chaotic Good Medium Humanoid (Human Female) Init +7; Perception +3 ------------------------------------------ DEFENSE ------------------------------------------ AC 13, touch 13, flatfooted 10 (+3 Dex) HP 11 (1d8 (8) + 2 Con + 1 favored class) Fort +2, Ref +3, Will +1 ------------------------------------------ OFFENSE ------------------------------------------ Speed 30 ft. Melee Scythe +3 (2d4+3, x4, P/S) Morningstar +2 (1d8+2, x2, B/P) Oracle Spells Known 1st (4/day) DC 15: Bless, Cure Light Wounds, Weapon Against Evil 0th (infinite) DC 14: Create Water, Light, Read Magic, Purify Food and Drink Sorcerer Spells Known 1st (4/day) DC 15: Mage Armor, Magic Missile 0th (infinite) DC 14: Dancing Lights, Disrupt Undead, Mage Hand, Prestidigtation ------------------------------------------ STATISTICS ------------------------------------------ XP Str 15, Dex 16, Con 15, Int 14, Wis 8, Cha 18 (16+2 racial bonus) Base Attack +0; CMB 2; CMD 15 Feats: Eschew Materials, Improved Initiative, Weapon Focus (Scythe) Traits: Heirloom Weapon (Scythe), Teacher's Pet Favoured Class: Oracle (1 HP) Skills: Appraise +5 (3 familiar + 2 Int) Bluff +8 (1 rank + 3 class + 4 Cha) Diplomacy +8 (1 rank + 3 class + 4 Cha) Knowledge (Arcana) +6 (1 rank + 3 class + 2 Int) Knowledge (Planesa) +6 (1 rank + 3 class + 2 Int) Knowledge (Religion) +8 (1 rank + 3 class + 2 trait + 2 Int) Perception +3 (1 rank + 3 class - 1 Wis) Sense Motive +3 (1 rank + 3 class - 1 Wis) Languages: Common, Aklo, Elven Equipment: Scythe, Morningstar, Scholar's Outfit, 2x Holy Water, Oracle's Kit (contains backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, 10 candles, flint and steel, iron pot, mess kit, rope, soap, 10 torches, 5 days of trail rations, waterskin) Current encumberance: 53 lbs Money: 20 gp Carrying capacity: 58, 59-116, 117-175 ------------------------------------------ SPECIAL ABILITIES ------------------------------------------ -Sorcerer Abilities- Arcane Bond: Familiar. Bloodline Arcana: Whenever you apply a metamagic feat to a spell that increases the slot used by at least one level, increase the spell's DC by +1. This bonus does not stack with itself and does not apply to spells modified by the Heighten Spell feat. Eschew Materials: Gain Eschew Materials as a free bonus feat. -Oracle Abilities- Curse: Tongues (Aklo) Mystery: Dark Tapestry -Touch of the Void: As a standard action, you can perform a melee touch attack that deals 1d6 points of cold damage + 1 point for every two oracle levels you possess. At 7th level, the touched creature must also make a Fortitude saving throw or be fatigued for a number of rounds equal to 1/2 your oracle level. This has no effect on a creature that is already fatigued. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Charisma modifier. Familiar: Raven CR 1/6
XP 65 N Tiny animal Init +2; Senses low-light vision; Perception +6 DEFENSE AC 15, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+2 Dex, +2 size, +1 natural)
OFFENSE Speed 10 ft., fly 40 ft. (average)
STATISTICS Str 2, Dex 15, Con 8, Int 6, Wis 15, Cha 7
SPECIAL ABILITIES
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