Sicarrius's page

Ok I actually ended up changing Sicarrius to a fiendish vessel cleric of Asmodeus // Cult leader warpriest eventually taking maybe rogue or slayer.

It just fit the backstory I came up with better.

Here is the crunch for Bane88's character. I have a rough background I'm working on and it revolves around a concept I've always wanted to try. Striving to be a member of the Order of the First Sword. So a question pertaining to that, can I count the sacred weapon of Asmodeus, the longsword, to my "monk" weapons so I can use perfect strike etc.

Yes.

So may the world both freeze and burn to make up for the atrocities of man.

Only sixty years. That’s how long it takes for us to forget who we are. That’s how long it takes for any semblance of how we used to live, think, and die to be extinguished. Problems that were once grouped into politics and controversy have become grounded in survival. Laws no longer govern people and only fear is guaranteed safe travel across the wastes.

The Earth was once a thriving place. The populace was concerned with environmental issues, political relationships, the welfare of the less fortunate, and were fed lies from the media to frighten the masses. The reality was much more docile. While governments did lie to their people and corruption was present, the ideals and intentions were pure. Things had gotten so easy for the masses, that they almost needed the lies to give themselves something to worry about. The United States had spent over 250 of the final years as a world power and, with the help other world powers, had achieved much of what had been dreamed of at the creation of the nation. The creation of a nation that was inspired by thousands of years of human, elven, dwarven, and all of the other races’ combined philosophy, science, and civil rights. A nation that would lead the rest of the world down the same road of advancement that allowed the greatest minds from each race and nationality to truly bring the world to the pinnacle of achievement and it seemed as if there was no end in sight. Yet the people of the world were afraid of war that seemed ever on the horizon.

Only sixty years. That’s how long it took to forget it all. That’s how long after the mysterious magical wave took it all away for it to became clear that it would all just start over.

The Earth had reached the pinnacle of achievement. It was the year 2024 when what is referred to as 'the fall' occurred. Though the world was at war with itself, as it always was, things seemed to be getting more and more peaceful. Fewer people were dieing violent deaths, life expectancies were climbing (even among elves), and starvation across the globe was beginning to finally dwindle into nothingness. A utopia was in the making. Then it all abruptly slid to a halt. That was sixty-four years ago.

Now, the Earth is a wasteland. In many places, vegetation and wild-animals have been able to recover but most of the civilized world lies in rubble. Very little is known about the nature of the explosion that caused the end of the world. What is known is that it killed anything with magic in its blood and laid waste to most things that didn't. By that time magic had become an integral part in the world's technology and it all came crashing down. The few that survived were scarred and struggled for survival. So the world has been for the past sixty-four years.

The connection the world has to the 'Weave', the colloquial term for the alternate plain of existence from which all magic originates, has been severed. Magic has ceased to exist and much of the world has began denying it ever existed or fear what it could do since most of what was passed down from Generation Zero, those who were alive during the magical purge, has been turned into nothing but hatred for the medium used to create the hell they must endure.

Now the gods can only hope that a group of Wasteland Wanderers will rise to get the world started again. And so our story begins in a small town in central Tennessee.

Suspicion for non humans and magic use. Otherwise, yeah pretty mad maxish. Or pathfinder meets fallout sort of.

More jumping = More corruption! ;D

I guess I would like to keep this character in this setting, but that shouldn't stop us from rolling new characters in nightflier's recruitment.

"The cost of others, yes, a low cost indeed." Sicarrius muttered around the lip of his fresh drink. Allowing the liquid to cool his temperament a bit.

"Oh I think everyone would be more comfortable if I refrained from wielding weapons here." he proffered with a humble nod.

Perhaps I'll burn this place down tonight while the other's sleep. the thought brought a look of cruel delight to the redman's face.

At the mention of music, Sicarrius perks up. He had constantly blasted music all over the prison city for the last 40 years, he never got sick of Slayer.

"A great suggestion, sir. Perhaps some dancing as well?"

"Thank you my friends, I will have a drink. I apologize, I've never been to this area before, where I come from we pass the time with fibs and spectacular stories." He nods to Baird and raises his glass to the dust coat man.

"Oh my dear, you've never met anyone like me. And I've never met one such as yourself, so strong and willful." A sad smile crosses his face, never touching his eyes.

Sicarrius looks around, patting his body, smelling his armpit. "Huh, though I can't seem to find it, I apologize to all for the stench of my "Ki" he says sarcastically.

to lighten the mood, I would like to point out that I'm listening to Digital Underground's "Humpty Dance" as I write this!

Finally Durran swivels in his chair to face the stranger.

"Better stuff than that, least I'd like to think so."

"Better than silver? My my someone values their words highly. Me, I've always found that words are a tool, to be shimmied and twisted as needed to get the job done, the job in this instance of course being self entertainment at the exspense of others." Sicarrius grins a slippery smile revealing sharp teeth, filed you would think from the unnatural look.

"Mister gray coat, I've really done no harm, for would you really have gone sprinting into the night to rescue "my sister"? No none of anyone would, lest they were fools who saught to perish. Are you really so ready to cause physical harm over simple tall tale telling?" the smile grows annoyingly impish.

Resist fire 5. Smite Good! Not trying anythin though regardless as GM would kick my but to the curb. I will however continue to be antagonistic XD

A cruel smile swept over Sicarrius' visage. Holding a hand up and shaking his head "no" at the inquisitive dwarf, a sullen and shocked expression overtook him as he faced the tall lady.

"That's quite an acusation to just throw in the face of a stranger there, my fair haired amazon. Have any evidence to back it up? his tone is thick with mock hurt and flabergasted outrage.

His look changes at the sideways remark of the gray coated man at the end of the bar. Sicarrius now looks vaguely ammused and maybe a little bit wary "Ah, so it would seem, and how nice of you to notice. What if I may ask is your tongue made of stranger?"

Turning to Baird, Sicarrius shoots him a "can you believe this guy" look.

A nice catfolk lady started speaking to him. With a wide smile Sicarrius broke out into a bit of a tale.

"Well you see my dear, I am on a rescue mission. My sister was kidnapped by brigands, and I fear they plan to misuse her. I have tracked them here from a ways up north."

Bluff: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10

I have aura of evil, the intimidate roll, was kinda flavor. I was trying to bluff/posture my way out of looking scared of the BEAR!

remember that I left my gross armor outside, so i'm just wearing a black shirt at the moment.

When the barmaid speaks, "You have menus? Exquisite. Yes I shall peruse one if I may." The room seemed unsettled, Good, let them ponder what stands before them. Of course I shall not make the first move, against a crowd such as this.

Taking the menu with a "Thank you, lovely dove/" the red man sits next to the bear, attempting to appear unafraid. Bluff: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22 and at the same time see if the bear can feel his aura. Intimidate: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14

"Oh my you have meat from wild animals here, the last few stops, nothing but manflesh, gets old. Yes, some venison, that should do nicely." the tiefling plinks a bit of silver onto the countertop.

Awww, come on, I'm trying to skyrocket my bluff for that reason! I'm only level one, so +7 is pretty good.

Sicarrius scans the room, looking over each patron with a slight smile. "While there is always cause for alarm, I am not that cause tonight, my friend." he says to the fur clad bear friend.

"Again, good evening to all, I hope this summer eve finds you hale. I would do with a table to rest these weary feet, and a pint of ale to wash the dust of the road from my tongue. For I am but a weary traveler who never posed a danger to anyone."

Bluff: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15

apparently I smell? Must be the aura of evil.

Sitting on a hill outside of town, Sicarrius waits the final hour until sundown. Best to move into town under the cover of darkness. Don't want the sheep to startle.

Standing he strolls down the hill, his black cloak dragging through the lightly dampened grass. Down the lonely road he strode, his armor softly clanging and rustling. The slow dragging of his tail on the gound occasionally disturbing his thought as he feels that someone is behind him.

Sicarrius approachs a local watering hole, hears the sound of laughter within. Quietly on the porch, he doffs his armor, an uncomfortable looking ensemble with pitch stained metal and banded steel. It was adorned with bits of flesh, an ear or a finger here or there. Best not to make an impression that will rouse panic.

He pushes his way through the double doors, letting in a bit of cool wind. Any who look his way are met with an unsettling sight. A 6'2 tiefling with black-red skin, ragged with scars, and curved horns spiraling outwards. His eyes glowed red in the low light, and behind him a wicked pointed tail.

"Good evening." he said with a smooth and silvered tongue, the words falling out like a waterfall, almost enough to make you forget what you were looking at.

Here's the Crunch for my character.