Rosemary Cutter's page

Cutter's made a lot of mistakes over the years. She's been a thief, a highway robber, a mercenary, a bounty hunter, even an adventurer from time to time. She's not proud of it. She's trying very hard to be a better person, in fact. She's made far too many enemies for one woman to handle, but truthfully, it's the personal ghosts that haunt her the most.

Cutter doesn't like to talk about it—indeed, probing into her "personals" without her permission is a good way to make a bitter enemy—but she left Sandpoint at a young age, and spent most of her early life begging, scrounging and stealing. That changed when she found an old sleeping warrior, his finely-made sword of a craft Cutter did not know and lying unattended beside him. The warrior was a samurai, Cutter would later learn, one who was far from home either by choice, by errand or by exile.

Cutter especially doesn't like to talk about how she acquired her favored weapon. Her red-stained sword weighs heavy in her palm, and though she still wields it expertly, the thrill of berserking is now tinged with a deep regret for her. She doesn't like herself very much, and has a secretly very pessimistic view of her chances—both at redemption, and at living a long and happy life. Still, of all the skills she's acquired over the years, the one thing Rosemary Cutter never developed a knack for is despair.

The call to become a paladin came as something as a surprise to Cutter, and she's still not sure which of the gods she follows chose her, if any. She'd like to think it's Shelyn, or maybe Desna. It came at a moment of deep, painful clarity, and so she really doesn't like talking about it except to say that she'd been about to do something stupid and she decided to do something right instead.

Cutter's crisis of conscience was not one single dramatic event, but a sequence of smaller ones—an incident at a Desnan shrine, an encounter with a knight of Shelyn, a bad business with a merchant family at the wrong place at the wrong time. Cutter grew increasingly tormented as it began to sink in how far down she was really going to fall. Cutter took to praying, to avoiding sharing in the company of the other bandits, to trying and often failing to resolve conflicts nonviolently, or at least nonlethally.

Finally, things came to a head. It wasn't anything new. It wasn't anything worse than what Cutter had already done. Just an adventuring party already battered from a recent dungeon crawl with more plunder than wits or sense—or willingness to surrender without a fight, even though they clearly were in no shape for one.

Somehow, Cutter found she just couldn't go through with it. This was the breaking point. And Cutter ran.

But then, just twenty or so yards away, she stopped in her tracks.

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Panic warred with shame warred with a new emotion rising in her, a feeling of deep, profound certainty. Cutter had never felt so sure of anything in her life as she did in that moment: It wasn't enough to stop doing bad things.

She had to do something right for a change.

And she ran back with her sword drawn to stop her former colleagues.

Cutter should have died that day. She had no plan, and she certainly had not the skill to defeat her old band. The adventurers were already mostly on the ground bleeding their lives away. It was her time to join them.

Only the intervention of a songbird from the heavens saved her, diving from the heavens and clawing ferociously at the leader. The intervention distracted the bandits long enough for Rosemary Cutter to live true to her chosen surname and strike true. She scored a deep slice across the brutish captain's left eye, cut another bandit down with a lucky swing, and howling with the thrill of the bacchanalia... went down from a club to the back of her head.

When Cutter awoke, she found, to her surprise, that she was alive. A couple of the surviving adventurers had managed to drive the bandits off after she'd gone down, and unsure of what to do with Cutter, they'd decided to patch up her wounds and take her with them. They didn't recognize her, but Cutter recognized one of them instantly.

One of those adventurers was Ameiko Kajitsu. And when Cutter awoke, the first thing she saw were the eyes of her childhood crush, from what felt like two separate lifetimes ago.

Cutter parted ways with the adventurers soon after, though on, if not friendly terms, at least sympathetic ones. Cutter didn't (and still doesn't) know how to process her feelings. She isn't even sure if her love is genuinely romantic or just confused nostalgia for a version of Rosemary that had no blood on her hands and could possibly deserve someone like Ameiko.

But deep down, she knows there's more than one reason she's come back to Sandpoint.

Cutter has a very sweet, friendly manner, albeit tinged with very poor judgment and a slight ditziness about her. She is kind and empathetic. That said, she has no idea how to handle it when someone shows genuine affection or kindness to her, and usually goes bright red and finds an excuse to be elsewhere. She doesn't fully trust it.

Of course, her unerring sweetness can provide an unsettling contrast to the terrifying skill she shows with her sword. Rosemarry Cutter is very, very good at one thing in particular, and her comfort with violence seems to disturb even her at times.

Cutter does have a spiteful streak and a vicious temper. She desperately tries to keep it under control, but invading her privacy, embarrassing her, or manipulating her feelings can make her a bitter enemy, and her reactions can vary from constant vicious barbs and remarks to very mean-spirited pranks.

Religion: Cutter prays to Shelyn when there's good news, Cayden Cailean when things go wrong, Pharasma when things go very wrong, Desna when she doesn't know, and Old Deadeye when she's f!%%ed up.

Berserking: Cutter enters a maddened, joyous frenzy when entering combat, something she fancifully likes to call "the bacchanalia" or, more glibly, "dreamland". Lately, she's been unable to enter the bacchanalia quite so fully, as her guilt and fear of her own temper pull her back from the brink. (For now, this is purely flavor text, but she'll multiclass to barbarian when she regains her comfort with the blade.)

Feats: Power Attack, Improved Initiative/Dodge

Traits: Signature Moves (mwk katana), Caravan Guard/Childhood Crush

Equipment: Mwk katana, 5 daggers, mwk studded leather armor, a lot of blankets, journal, other gear to be selected

Attacks: Dagger +4 (1d4+3, 19-20/x2), katana +5 (1d8+4, 18-20/x2)
Power Attacks: katana +4 (1d8+9, 18-20/x2)

AC: 16 (10 + 3 Dex + 3 armor); HP: 14

Skill Points: 5+2 (+3 class, +1 fcb, +1 human) (+2 background)

Paladin Archetypes: Holy Guide, Divine Guardian, Chosen One

Rosemary Cutter's emissary is not affected by Divine Guardian (and thus cannot heal remotely and still requires a standard action to heal others with lay on hands). Cutter's emissary will generally not use its own actions to heal her except when she is unconscious.

Better known as "the Songbird", this mysterious bird has been following Cutter for some time now. Cutter only loosely suspects that it's the same bird—as Melody never seems to look or sound exactly the same twice, and steadfastly refuses to speak with Cutter, this assumption is understandable. Cutter continues to interpret the songbirds as signs from Shelyn—or rather, wish that she believed as much.

Melody itself is a complicated being, a silvanshee who is on the Material Plane in punishment as much as assignment. Melody is on the opposite trajectory from Cutter, a being of pure good that is slowly edging towards, at best, neutrality.

Melody's full name hints at their flawed creation, and its time on the Material Plane has only rendered it more jaded, more reluctant to risk its own life, and more frustrated with its goddess. Melody has also gotten a little too comfortable with certain luxuries of the Material. It's gotten a little too cat-like for its own good, in fact, and back when Melody was still able to take its true form, it had taken to spending more time hunting for its next meal—even though it had no need to eat—than spying on the forces of evil.

Of course, Melody hasn't taken its true form for a long time. It is currently a little stuck. Melody refuses to explain it when pressed, but it seems that it has been moved to the form of a harmless songbird as some form of punishment or probation, an encouragement to see life through the eyes of someone much smaller and lower on the food chain. Melody stubbornly refuses to admit it did anything wrong.

Though Cutter doesn't know it, she and Melody are well-suited for one another.

Melody is still an agathion. It is a deeply and fundamentally kind creature that has fallen a little out of its way but retains a nature imbued with goodness. And when Melody found Cutter praying for forgiveness, and sensed her hidden potential, Melody sensed... perhaps a kindred spirit. Perhaps a new meal ticket. Perhaps a chance at making things right.

Melody isn't the best guide, and doesn't help out nearly as much as it could. Mostly, it restricts its interference to dropping "omens" for Cutter to follow. Perhaps Melody believes that Cutter will not find true redemption until she forgives herself, and it wants her to figure that out herself so she can feel whole. Perhaps it believes that Cutter needs to make mortal friends before she's ready to meet her guide. Perhaps Melody just doesn't want Cutter to ask difficult questions. Who can say? Probably Melody, but Melody isn't talking.