About Ross KelverStats:
Ross Kelver Male Haunted One Human Thaumaturge (Unseen Horror) 7/ Wraith 1 Chaotic Neutral Medium Humanoid Init +2; Senses Perception +10 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 18, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+5 armor, +2 Dex, +1 deflection) hp 75 (7d8+28) Fort +7, Ref +7, Will +10 -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 30 ft. Ranged mwk dagger +6/+1 (1d4/x2) Melee mwk light pistol +9/+4 (2d4/x4) Special Attacks Telekinetic bludgeon +13 -------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 10, Dex 14, Con 18, Int 24, Wis 14, Cha 14 Base Atk +6/+1; CMB +5; CMD 17 Feats Extra Invocations, Extra Unseen Augmentation, Extra Unseen Augmentation, Extra Magic Talent, Minor Charm Specialist Traits potential energy, pragmatic activator Skills 11 ranks/level Diplomacy +9 (5 ranks, +3 class, +2 cha) Intimidate +13 (8 ranks, +3 class, +2 cha) Perception +10 (8 ranks, +2 wis) Knowledge (arcana) +20 (8 ranks, +7 int, +3 class skill, +2 untyped) Knowledge (dungeoneering) +20 (8 ranks, +7 int, +3 class skill, +2 untyped) Knowledge (local) +20 (8 ranks, +7 int, +3 class skill, +2 untyped) Knowledge (nature) +20 (8 ranks, +7 int, +3 class skill, +2 untyped) Knowledge (planes) +20 (8 ranks, +7 int, +3 class skill, +2 untyped) Knowledge (religion) +20 (8 ranks, +7 int, +3 class skill, +2 untyped) Spellcraft +20 (8 ranks, +7 int, +3 class skill, +2 untyped) Use Magic Device +16 (4 ranks, +3 class skill, +7 int, +2 untyped) Background skills: Knowledge (engineering) +20 (8 ranks, +7 int, +3 class skill, +2 untyped) Knowledge (history) +20 (8 ranks, +7 int, +3 class skill, +2 untyped) Knowledge (geography) +20 (8 ranks, +7 int, +3 class skill, +2 untyped) Languages English, Spanish, Aklo, Celestial, Infernal, Aramaic, Latin, Sumerian Other Gear 1900, mwk biker leathers, mwk light pistol, mwk dagger, gloves of unseen grip -------------------- Thaumaturge Abilities -------------------- Invocations (12/day) Lingering Blessing At 1st level, when using forbidden lore to augment a spell or sphere effect, the thaumaturge may use an invocation to cause the affected targets to gain 1 temporary hit point per thaumaturge level for 1 round per thaumaturge level. Lingering Pain At 1st level, when using forbidden lore to augment a spell or sphere effect, the thaumaturge may use an invocation to cause the affected targets to become sickened for 1 round (Fortitude negates). Meditation At 1st level, the thaumaturge may reroll a failed Knowledge check. The thaumaturge may only use this ability once for any given Knowledge check. Empowered Attack At 3rd level, when using forbidden lore to augment a spell or sphere effect, the thaumaturge may use an invocation to grant himself a bonus to attack rolls equal to his forbidden lore bonus for a number of rounds equal to his casting ability modifier. Empowered Defense At 3rd level, when using forbidden lore to augment a spell or sphere effect, the thaumaturge may use an invocation to grant himself a dodge bonus to AC equal to his forbidden lore bonus for a number of rounds equal to his casting ability modifier. Channel Punishment At 7th level, if the thaumaturge suffers backlash when using forbidden lore, he may use an invocation to pass the penalty off to another creature within 30 feet. If that creature is unwilling, they are allowed a Will save to negate this effect. On a successful save, the thaumaturge suffers the effect of the backlash as normal. Forbidden Lore +3
Occult Knowledge +2
Lurking Forces (Su)
Unseen Augmentations:
True Lore 2/day
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Wraith Form (8 rounds)
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Spheres:
Talents:
Fear:
Telekinesis:
Talents:
Background:
Ross Kelver was an ordinary child, really. He had a love of scary stories and an overactive imagination around Halloween, sure, but what 10 year old boy doesn’t? It was strange, his neighbors and parents said, that as all his friends grew out of their fascination with ghosts, ghouls, and gremlins, Ross never did. School was hard on him. He was smart, excelling in his studies, acing tests like they were nothing. It never called to him. What did any of it really mean, compared to what could lurk beyond the veil. That wasn’t even to mention the bullies. A small town in southwestern Kansas isn’t kind to those who stand out as different. It was just Ross’ luck that he was the stray hair in his high school’s graduating class of ninety-three people. All the while, the mysteries of what lay past the gates of mortality tempted him. He flirted with occult rituals, Wicca, Goetia, Kabbalah. None worked. None brought him closer to the ultimate mysteries of life and whatever lay past it. His path took him to rural New England, to an old college north of Boston whose name matters little anymore. He fared better there. People were stranger, like him. None, though, approached his fervor for the mysteries of the supernatural. It was on a cold night, the biting kind of chill that only comes in a late New England winter, that Ross found his fate. On a loose scrap of paper tucked into an old tome, hidden in a forgotten corner of the oldest library on campus, Ross found instructions for...something. The hour struck midnight on the winter solstice. The black candles were lit, the offerings made, the dense, harsh recitations said thirteen times over. On that night, Ross looked into the void. Something looked back. He felt it wrap around him, seize his mind and body and very being. If it wanted, it could control him totally, or break him utterly. It didn’t. For a time it lurked within the deep recesses of Ross’ mind as his academics spiralled downwards and the few friends he had grew ever more distant. Then, a single word. Fever. Fever. Fever. It called him west, to a town called Fever. It was on this journey he began to feel something. Powers he never could’ve imagined. He could move things with his mind with barely a thought. He could influence the minds of others to do what he, or perhaps what the entity, wanted. Never, in his journey, was he alone. Emissaries, perhaps, children, or simply lesser forms of whatever the entity was, accompanied him always. Invisible, unknowable, yet ever-present, they were his wardens, his guides, and his constant companions. It was a long, meandering route. The entity, it seemed, had a liking for roadside attractions, the kind that perpetually seem decades out of date. It was in a distorted mirror under the light of an old, flickering funhouse bulb that he first saw it. He still cannot describe exactly what it was, but he knew it was a creature of unimaginable strangeness, of an intelligence impossible to understand. It called itself Zaoth, speaking in a whisper that threatened to grind his very being to dust. It had a purpose, one that Ross could not fathom. He knew, though, it had stolen his destiny, taken his mind and body and soul hostage. As long as Ross cooperated, Zoath’s wrath would be withheld. If not, it would destroy him. Ross found himself in Fever some weeks, pulled by Zaoth’s will. There, he waited in a dingy apartment above a loud orcish dive bar for whatever his dark controller would command of him next. Appearance and Personality:
Ross is a slim, pale human dressed in a shabby gray suit. His chin’s adorned with a perpetual five-o-clock shadow, and his brown hair is fairly shaggy from a lack of any sort of recent personal care. His voice is soft, and weary in a way that doesn’t fit his youthful appearance.He walks with a slouch, as if a weight were pressing upon his shoulders at all times. When Zaoth is dormant, or at least not actively in control, Ross is fairly genial. He does his best to be friendly and approachable despite the dark presence that lurks deep within him. In particular he has a love of puns and long, elaborate jokes. In truth, he appreciates anything that can take his mind off of the burden that is Zaoth’s presence, off the otherworldly power he’s had forced upon him. He’s quite smart, knowing at least a little of just about everything. At times, the knowledge surprises him, able to speak languages that have been dead for millennia, know things that have been forgotten for generations. While he can use his powers, he tries not to unless in a situation of extreme duress. Every time, Zaoth’s influence grows, and the spectral forces that haunt him grow bolder. Everything about him changes when Zaoth asserts it’s dark control. His eyes roll back into his head, and his face contorts into a sickening, empty grin. The exhaustion drains from his voice and it’s accompanied by an alien, guttural voice, on occasion switching to a language that sounds like the death of something beautiful and the moment that hope finally fades. He stands rigidly straight, moving as if every part of his body were resisting against itself. Zaoth has no qualms about using Ross for everything he’s worth. There is no caution, no anxiety, no fear of death, for how can something fear death when it simply has always existed? The spectral forces that follow him act as grim messengers, and his mental powers manipulate the world to his whims. Whatever Zaoth’s goal is, it is beyond imagining, and most likely sinister. |