About SkriothStats Level 2:
Skrioth
Hero Lab and the Hero Lab logo are Registered Trademarks of LWD Technology, Inc. Free download at http://www.wolflair.com
Stats Level 1:
Skrioth Female merfolk oracle 1 (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide 42, Pathfinder RPG Advanced Race Guide 194) NG Medium humanoid (aquatic) Init +3; Senses darkvision 30 ft.; Perception +3 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 19, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+4 armor, +3 Dex, +2 natural) hp 10 (1d8+2) Fort +2, Ref +3, Will +0 -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 25 ft. (20 ft. in armor), swim 30 ft. Melee boarding pike +1 (1d8+1/×3) Ranged light crossbow +3 (1d8/19-20) Oracle Spells Known (CL 1st; concentration +5) 1st (4/day)—bless, cure light wounds, sun metal[UC] (DC 15) 0 (at will)—detect magic, guidance, read magic, spark[APG] (DC 14) Mystery Flame -------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 12, Dex 16, Con 15, Int 8, Wis 7, Cha 18 Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 14 (can't be tripped) Feats Combat Reflexes Traits artifact hunter, seeker Skills Acrobatics +0 (-4 to jump), Perception +3, Perform (sing) +10, Spellcraft +3 (+4 to identify the properties of magic items), Swim +6, Use Magic Device +9; Racial Modifiers +2 Perform (sing) Languages Aquan, Common SQ amphibious, oracle's curse (clouded vision), revelation (cinder dance) Other Gear hide armor, boarding pike, crossbow bolts (30), light crossbow, backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, mess kit, spell component pouch, trail rations (5), waterskin, wooden holy symbol of Agradd, 15 gp, 5 sp, 1 cp -------------------- Special Abilities -------------------- Amphibious (Ex) You can survive indefinitely on land. Artifact Hunter (Use Magic Device) +1 bonus to Spellcraft to ID magic item properties. % chance to ID artifact. Clouded Vision You cannot see beyond 30' Combat Reflexes (4 AoO/round) Can make extra attacks of opportunity/rd, and even when flat-footed. Darkvision (30 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white vision only). Swimming (30 feet) You have a Swim speed. Hero Lab and the Hero Lab logo are Registered Trademarks of LWD Technology, Inc. Free download at http://www.wolflair.com
Skill Shortcuts:
[dice=Acrobatics]1d20+0[/dice] -4 to jump [dice=Appraise]1d20-1[/dice] [dice=Bluff]1d20+4[/dice] [dice=Climb]1d20-2[/dice] [dice=Diplomacy]1d20+4[/dice] [dice=Disguise]1d20+4[/dice] [dice=Escape Artist]1d20+0[/dice] [dice=Fly]1d20+0[/dice] [dice=Heal]1d20-2[/dice] [dice=Intimidate]1d20+4[/dice] [dice=Knowledge (history)]1d20+3[/dice] [dice=Knowledge (planes)]1d20+3[/dice] [dice=Knowledge (religion)]1d20+3[/dice] [dice=Perception]1d20+3[/dice] [dice=Perform (sing)]1d20+10[/dice] [dice=Ride]1d20+0[/dice] [dice=Sense Motive]1d20-2[/dice] [dice=Spellcraft]1d20+3[/dice] [dice=Spellcraft]1d20+3+1[/dice] To identify magic items [dice=Stealth]1d20+0[/dice] [dice=Survival]1d20-2[/dice] [dice=Swim]1d20+10[/dice] [dice=Use Magic Device]1d20+9[/dice] Combat Shortcuts:
[dice=Initiative]1d20+3[/dice] [dice=Boarding Pike]1d20+2[/dice] Brace, Reach
[dice=Light Crossbow]1d20+4[/dice]
[dice=Unarmed Hit]1d20+2[/dice]
Healing Shortcuts:
[dice=CLW]1d8+2[/dice] Saving Throw Shortcuts:
[dice=Fortitude]1d20+2[/dice]
Ability Check Shortcuts:
[dice=Strength]1d20+1[/dice] [dice=Dexterity]1d20+3[/dice] [dice=Constitution]1d20+2[/dice] [dice=Intelligence]1d20-1[/dice] [dice=Wisdom]1d20-2[/dice] [dice=Charisma]1d20+4[/dice] Background:
Born to kelp farmers in the water city of Outsea, it was obvious to everyone that Skrioth was “special” from the day she was born. Merfolk come in as many colors as you can find on the fish in the sea, which is to say just about any color, but usually children are roughly the colors of their parents, so when a Blue and a Green gave birth to a Red, it was a memorable event. There were a good deal of accusations back and forth between her parents, but in the end, they decided that Besmara had sent them the child She wanted them to have. However, as she grew, other oddities became noticed. Darksight among the merfolk is better than the humans, but not as good as the dwarves, or so it is with most merfolk. Skrioth could clearly see in the darkest of the deep, but even in the brightest shoal, she could not see beyond three or four sharklengths. Again, her parents were perplexed, and angry, but again, they attributed things to Besmara’s will. A similar crisis came when they found she was slow in water, but fast on land. Not as fast maybe as the elves, but still, fast enough. And while she could swim, it just wasn’t what her people considered at a decent pace. Still, her parents loved her, but now, perhaps, they began to fear that these changes were not sent by Besmara at all, for how could She curse their daughter to be a strongtail? The answer to this riddle was to reveal itself in Skrioth’s dreams. She dreamed of dwarves and giants. She dreamed of mountains and caves. And she dreamed of fire and war. And when she awoke, she had the power to control fire, and she spoke a single name, “Angradd.” Angradd? No one in all of Outsea knew the name. How could they? Why would they? But her father cast a wider net, and found not a sage, not a wise man from afar, but a common dwarf. This dwarf told her father about Angradd. Not the most revered and honored of the dwarven gods, but rather the brother to Torag. Angradd, the “Forge-Fire” was the dwarf god of aggressive tactics and warfare, and he held fire under his domain as well. Her father was furious. Not Besmara or even Gozreh, but a dwarf god, of fire and war? How had this happened to him? To his family? He returned home, and in a fury, he cast Skrioth out of his house. He cursed her as he told her where her powers came from. Skrioth bade her mother farewell, and left. But she didn’t just leave Outsea, no, she left the River Kingdoms. She travelled down the Sellen River. She passed through Kallas Lake. Occasionally she would ask for directions. “Dwarves? Giants? Mountains? Caves?” Many a traveler returned home with a tale of a lone merfolk with fiery red hair, and a similar passion asking strange questions about places she couldn’t possibly imagine. Finally, she came to a huge ocean, or so Lake Encarthan seemed to her. She couldn’t see the sun, but she could feel its warmth, and she followed it west, west, west. As she swam, she scavenged bits and pieces of gear and treasure from the wrecks at the bottom, some gold here and a boarding pike there. She traded with fisherman and sailors. She asked the same questions. Eventually, she arrived at the mouth of the Tourondel River. She felt an urging, a fire in her belly, and she swam. For days on end, and when she tired, she would sleep, but only as long as she needed. In her dreams, Angradd sent visions of artifacts. When she awoke, she swam further, with a thirst, a dwarven thirst, for those same artifacts, and something she had never tried before, beer. Finally her passions guided her out of the river. She was afraid, but she felt Angradd’s call, and she crawled out of the water and was transformed. In an instant, her scaly lower half was replaced with long nimble legs. At first she was unsteady, but she persevered and learned to walk. Across a riverbed and into a land of trees and streams she walked. Description:
When ashore, Skrioth stands just over 6 feet tall. Her skin is as bronze as an azer’s, and her facial features appear mostly elvish. Her long hair is a fiery red that would make the Dawnflower proud. She has high cheekbones and prominent pointed ears. Her eyes are grey with red highlights. When in the water, her lower body becomes that of a fish, with pearly crimson scales, and her total length is roughly 8 feet.
Personality:
Like most of her kind, Skrioth talks a lot, at least when in the company of those she trusts, although there aren’t too many of them anymore. She is honest and carefree with her friendship, but straightforward that betrayal will be dealt with severely, probably with a scathing song! Coming from Outsea, she is accustomed to a very integrated and eclectic society, made up of races that most would consider to be mortal enemies. With that said, she has no intent, or desire to somehow bring the humans, dwarves, orcs, and giants together to sing songs of peace. She has come for war, and the dreams of Angradd are giving her more reason to dislike giants.
Scenario 1:
You awaken to a blood-curdling scream that ends as abruptly as it began. You turn to the sound, as much out of reflex as curiosity, but find yourself in strange surroundings. Enclosed in a crude prison, a cage shaped out of the bones of some huge creature, the bars obstruct much of your vision. Further within the cavern, looming above a fiery cauldron and clutching the crushed, spasming remains of what might have once been an adventurer, is a malformed brute twice as tall as any man. Tattered bits of fur and cloth conceal much of its pudgy bulk, but beneath its garb you glean a blubbery, grey hide with a hideous array of pustules. The giant deposits the broken, bleeding corpse it grips into the cauldron, where it lands with a splash in some unidentifiable concoction. Judging from the stench it kicks up, you would likely rather not know. One bulging eye seizes you as it begins stirring its feast, drool running unmitigated down the rolls of its chin and neck. "Oi there, another one awake! Another awake. Maybe this one tells Old Brulk'tha a pretty tale. Maybe this one doesn't fill her belly tonight! Hurhurhur!" Her voice is wheezy but booming, and her jowls jiggle with each word. ”Which of them was that,” Skrioth considers briefly, but it doesn’t matter what has gone in the past. What matters is the now. ”A story? Shall I sing it to you? I can sing many tales, and they are best heard in my native tongue. I am told that even with not understanding the language, one can understand the story. After the song, we can discuss the story itself.” With that, Skrioth takes a deep breath and as she exhales, she sings a tale of starcrossed lovers separated by their warring parents. After several minutes of singing to Old Brulk'tha, a grin comes across her face, as she spies her companions creeping into the room behind the beast to rescue her. A few minutes later, as she leaves the cell and collects her gear she muses to her friends, "What took you so long? I can only act like a siren for so long?" Scenario 2:
The strange fellow smiles broadly as he takes a seat across the table from you. The bustle of the tavern thrums all around as excited conversations crescendo and wain, only to be replaced by another. His flaxen hair, pale skin, and burly frame mark him as unmistakeably Ulfen. Judging by his garb—and lack of any noteworthy weaponry—he is likely a merchant of some stripe. Without being prompted, he slides one of the two horns of mead he carries across the table to you, raising his own in a toast. After a modest mouthful of his own drink, he speaks, "Rumors flit about this place like a bee to the flowers. But all seem to agree that your. . . skills are worth every copper and more. Tell me then, friend: what brings you here and how can Ingmund convince you to allow him the honor of employing one such as yourself?" ”One such as myself?” Skri chuckles. ”As I understand it, you found a back way into your competitor’s compound through three hundred feet of drainage pipe. It is now the height of the rainy season, and that pipe is near bursting with water rushing through it.” She pauses and takes a sip of mead. ” The target is then several levels deep inside their keep, where you need the entire shipment burned to the ground to eliminate competition.” She takes a deep breath, ”and finally, if caught, you need it to be clear that the saboteur could not reasonably have any connection to you. Please, let’s be honest with one another, where else are you going to find a strong swimming, water-breathing, fire mage, of a race that would never be accused of working with your kind? And where else can I find such a job that will pay so well?” Scenario 3:
Behind you, the tomb's double-doors slam shut. Try as you might, you are unable to pry them open by any means. A disembodied voice laughs unnervingly as soft blue flames begin to dance to life along myriad braziers lining either side of the room. "Arlanghar the Brave and Bold; the Wise and Learned; the Sly and Cunning. All truth and lies. Dead and alive, a tomb and a mansion." Another peal of laughter emerges before the voice trails off into silence. At the center of the square room stands a three-armed gargoyle, each hand grasping a different weapon: a sword, a staff, and a bow. The far wall is dominated by a mural depicting what appears to be three versions of the same hero, each wielding weapons that correspond to those held by the statue. Skri considers the tableau before her for a moment, and dryly states, ”remember that last room? The one where I fried the six zombies with one fireball? Riddles aren’t my thing, I’m pretty sure it’s some else’s turn,” she finishes as she points at the rogue. |
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