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Tamhas shrugs, I don't speak for the boy, I'm not his father. Children grow up fast on the streets or they don't grow up at all. He makes his own decisions though I daresay your proposal is more attractive than risking the loss of a hand. He lifts the mask a fraction and scratches at a scar beneath as he thinks The sooner we begin the better. I feel... thin, having been idle so long. It is not my people's way. Back home I would have walked the mountain paths and wrestled an oxen into her pen before breakfast, just to get my blood flowing.
Aye I think you'd better run on too Isa, got business to discuss and you'd just be bored. Take your snow drink and I'll see you some time tobight. Ok, Mr Tam. Al Fazeed throws the mouldy bread around this time anyway, I said I'd go with some of the other kids to take a look. the boy replies. Good boy. That Amira girl going to be there? Isa doesn't reply but blushes furiously earning a chuckle from his big friend. Stay safe, kid. Keep that knife I gave you handy. He claps the boy on the back as he runs out of the inn. Tamhas looks after him for a while and then turns his attention back to the table. when do you plan on returning to the necropolis?
Tamhas offers Desi his big, gnarled hand to help her up. He didn't like the gesture of supplication, it was too similar to those the slaves performed in respect if their Dominus. More than adequate, I'm sure
Huh. Tamhas grunts at the snowball. Neat trick. Though while his tone is not so much unimpressed, more unappreciative. Though where I come from the snow drifts so thickly it covers the ground like a frozen blanket. Or it drives down like shards of icy daggers. Sometimes the snow that falls looks so clear it is like blue crystals in the morning. The Skald language has nearly a hundred words for snow but it doesn't matter how beautiful or majestic it can be, every one of those types of snow will hurt you if you are unprepared. though it is difficult to tell under the mask, he shoots a glance toward Isa who, though he simply raised a quizzical eyebrow at Deseri's serious faces, seems delighted by the snowball and takes it from Harmose to throw between his hands, quickly switching it when one grows to cold from holding it. But despite that, yes, I miss the snow. It is... honest. The weather here is just relentless and the waves of heat are like illusions. More than once those shimmers caused me a scar in the arena. Isa. he gestures to the boy to put the snowball in his empty glass. Then, reaching into a pocket, he withdraws a few pitiful coppers but enough to get some orange juice from the bar which he then pours over the snowball to create an amazingly delicious and refreshing drink that the boy gleefully tucks into, bearing his teeth as the unfamiliar cold settles on them. Tamhas chuckles. That's the best use for snow.
Hero points are just selected by default on Hero Lab for me so when I output the hero statblock to paste here it includes them. Removed now. Indomitable faith and superstitious (regional trait of Realm of the Mammoth Lords which borders Irrisen) taken as traits CMB is +4 because it takes into account power attack which is switched on by default
Tamhas is glad to sit back and watch the boy enjoy the game. It hadn't been too much fun the past week and even if this were a temporary distraction from the hardships they faced every day, it was a welcome one.
Aye, I can stand well enough lady. And make those who want to pass earn the right. Tam says without pretence. Isa, deciding he wants to be 10, takes up Tam's hand and begins playing in his place. I like this game. he says, slapping an 8 down on the table.
"How old are you?" Isa stops eating, the spoon hovering between the bowl and his open mouth. He looks over at Tam as if seeking reassurance. Even with the mask he seems to be able to read the big man who currently just shrugs. Ummm... I don't know sir. he replies honestly. I had a big brother when I was really small. But I don't really remember him now. Aye, but now you've got me for a big brother, lad!
He turns to the woman ostensibly known as Desi then; Are you new to this group as well m'lady?
No it is fine as it is, thank you, in this weather anything cool is a blessing. Is, heed the man's words now. Tam replies, sternly. He puts his sack down with a loud clang and leans his bardiche against the wall. Reaching in to the sack he withdraws a relatively clean white shirt before retaking his seat and tackling the soup once more. Rather than use a spoon, he lifts the bowl in one hand and between sips, tilts his mask ever so slightly to drink. No I have never delved a dungeon. What dangers have you faced there so far? I hear people gossiping occasionally about what the lottery winners find in the tomb, mummies and ghouls and such though I would have no idea how to tell one from the other. Is, eat slower boy, your stomach isn't used to it, you'll cramp. The boy grins at Tam flashing a smile of missing teeth and tears a chunk of bread regardless. Grrrmm... Tam growls in frustration. Still, I am hale and hardy and possessed of the strength of my people. I feel I would serve the company well.
Very well. He exits the tavern, returning moments later with a small boy and a large sack over his shoulder that clangs as he walks, a long axe held in one hand. Tam pushes the shy boy slightly ahead of him. It's alright, Isa. Don't let shyness steal your voice. Ummm... hello... everyone. the boy says.
Tam bristles as Harmose rises to buy him and Isa the first proper meal he has had in days. Sir, I appreciate the sentiment. Isa begs because he has no other option. But I have always earned my keep and been capable at doing it and in truth have longed for better days for myself and all the boys like Isa. But my throat can no longer make such empty noise as those words that talk of better days. It is choked with dust and sentiment of spite that I dare not spit at those passers by who see us and yet look through us. I did not approach you for charity, sir. But to seek employment in your group, for me and the children who have been so kind. He draws himself up from the table to his full height, standing well above the others. His body, though lacking sustenance is hard and lean and broad still. I earned every one of these scars and more besides fighting in the Witch-Queen's war, against her Giants and Trolls in the frozen north and later in the Arena, wetting it's sand with tears of my own blood for the glory of 'better' men. But now I look to fight for myself, and put to use those skills I honed for better purpose than to line other men's pockets.
Tamhas reaches down and takes a card, sliding it carefully from the table so as not to crease the delicate card - more like stiffened papyrus - with his thick fingers. It was a Prince of Roses, his handsome face beaming out from a field of flowers. Figures. He looks across to Harmose though his face is implacable behind the mask. And I say something kind about someone I know to the next person? Strange game. Where I am from, dice is the game of choice in taverns like this. he grumbles. Well... I recently met a boy named Isa. He's a street child. No home. No parents. I think his father left his mother when he was small and she died of an infection earlier this year. A lot of the time he steals to eat but eventhough he has nothing he shared some bread with me a week ago. I've been helping him out since then. He's a good boy. A few of the children out there are like that. They just see someone who needs help. I don't think the world has got to them yet... he adds cryptically. <Ahem!> Anyway. Isa, he's the kindest boy I've met. Satisfied that he has taken his turn, he replies to the question asked by the pale-skinned woman. I have never delved. As you can tell I am not from this land so the lottery is something new to me. I earned my keep as a soldier and a farmer before I... came... to this land.
Hrrrmmm... Tamhas grumbles but does not complain. He allows himself to be led to the table and, though imperceptible beneath the mask, grits his teeth. As the seat is pulled out between the noble and a dusky young woman. He runs his eye over the others and nods in greeting to the tribesman. Tam had met a few of his kind, the sort of wandering wisemen of the desert, devout to what the people here called the 'Old Gods.' Old or new, the Gods of this region were odd, animal deities and Tam had never understood them. The tribesman was lean and wiry, likely swift and economic with movement. Tam had met several in the Pits and some were as deadly as any spear-wielding phalanx soldier. He shook his head as if to remind himself to stop eyeing these people up and trying to evaluate their prowess. Old habits die hard but if nothing else it was rude and he wanted to make a good impression here. Well met, Turel. I'm Tamhas. Tam, if ye like. It's good to meet you all. Tam is suddenly acutely aware that his toplessness was probably an offence to some of the denizens of the tavern, especially with the scars so visible against his tanning, though still pale skin. That was not to mention the smell of stale sweat that he was no doubt exuding at that very moment. The food and ale appears in front of him but despite the temptation, he does not immediately wolf into it. He would have to raise his mask only slightly and sip at it. He takes up a hand of cards dealt to him and, with no idea what to do with them, awaits someone else taking their turn. In the meantime, he says: So are ye all Discoveries Unlimited? How long have you delved together, were you hear for last year's lottery? I missed it, I was... ummm.... doing other work.
Sir, may I trouble you to have you join our group of cards? I already offered a bowl of soup and some iced coffee as payment to that young lady over there for joining our game. The big man takes the offered hand in his owned over-sized, paler-skinned mit. A nobleman. His clothes look like they cost more than everything I own. Tamhas Morganach. he says in reply, seeing the slight furrow in the man's brow. It is a foreign name, sometimes difficult for people to pronounce. Just call me Tam. As for your offer, I have nothing with which to wager and it doesn't look like any card game I've ever played, there's not enough ale on the table for a start. Despite his protests, the rumble of his stomach belies the fact that he is hungry and soup sounds better than part-rotten fruit. You are with the group Discoveries Unlimited? Does that mean you can explore yonder Necropolis?
Even in the shade the heat is oppressive. Not for the first time, Tam curses his thick, northern blood, not at all suited for this climate. The big man is dressed in a simple pair of thin cotton trousers and sandals. His torso is bare, save for the thick carpet of reddish hair that covers his chest and the multitude of scars that criss-cross his skin like trade routes across a desert map. For the last week he has taken to sleeping beneath the canopy that stretches out over the rear of a small tavern in the centre of the city. He has tried to make himself useful during that time by moving barrels for the owner and making some minor repairs here and there. Tam had always been good with his hands, a legacy of his time on the farm he supposed, where if he didn't fix the fences when the frosts warped the wood - who else would do it for him? Despite the help he had provided, he could tell the mask and his scars bothered the owner. That didn't surprise him, they bothered everyone, and the image of a man who stands usually at least a head above those around him and almost half again as broad who wore a leather and steel mask... well he could see why people were intimidated. But if they saw what was beneath... they would soon ask him to replace it. A boy named Isa had been his companion for most of the past week, sharing with Tam what small amounts of fruit and bread he had been able to beg or, more likely, steal. Tam had warned him against that, telling him that thieves were likely to find themselves short a hand if they were caught, but the boy simply grinned with rotting teeth and told him that I don't get caught, Mr Tam. In return, Tam had offered protection from some of the other street-dwellers who thought they could take advantage of the small boy. In truth, all he really had to do was stand nearby and sort of... loom. That had been enough for now. But still, this heat... Stay here, Isa. I'm going to see if the tavern owner will spare us some water, that camel over there almost took a chunk out of me the last time I tried to drink from his trough. Watch my stuff. But don't touch the axe. he says sternly, though not unkindly. He strides into the tavern, noticing again how the dust that permeates everything in this country floats in the air and the beams of light that shine in through the shutters make them dance like fireflies. He could appreciate the beauty in it... if it weren't so damned hot. Sir. he says. His accent is still strong and foreign, even muffled beneath the mask. I was hoping I could trouble you for some water, just a mug would do. The barkeep looks unsure and Tam can feel the weight of several pairs of eyes on him. That was ok, that happened fairly often too. Eventually the man relents and puts up a small clay mug of water. My thanks. The only ones who don't seem to watch him as he enters, are a group sitting playing cards and laughing on a table in one corner. They are an eclectic group, though well-armed. He takes them for adventurers or tomb-raiders. He hoped it would be the latter because for a while now he had considered entering the lottery, believing that whatever riches lay behind the crumbling walls of the Necropolois could help him and the kids like Isa to no end. The only problem was, which group would accept a vagrant like he? For now, he just stands at the bar, occasionally very slightly raising his mask to take a sip of water.
Ok I've updated Tamhas with the Indomitable Faith trait, my reasoning being the references to the Witch-War in his backstory. Even if he lost sight of what the war was about he never lost faith that he was doing the right thing to protect himself, his family and his heritage. I think that should do it. He is now ready to go.
The will save is extremely useful. But I don't see Tam as particularly religious so I'll look at one of the other regional traits
Well I'd really like Tam to be from the north so if I can't take Freed Slave I'll pick something from the actual region. I just thought that though I wasn't from there the Andoran trait fit perfectly
I've no idea. They are turned on by default on my hero lab so they just output to the stat block.
Got him statted up using normal statring wealth Taking first level in Unbreakable Fighter before moving into Invulnerable Rager. Name and class:
Tamhas Morganach Human fighter (unbreakable) 1 (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide 79, Pathfinder RPG Ultimate Combat 31, 49) CG Medium humanoid (human) Hero Points 1 Init +1; Senses Perception +1 Defense:
-------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 17, touch 12, flat-footed 15 (+5 armor, +1 Dex, +1 dodge) hp 13 (1d10+3) Fort +5, Ref +1, Will +1 Offense:
-------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor) Melee bardiche +4 (1d10+9/19-20) or longsword +4 (1d8+6/19-20) Stats:
-------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 18, Dex 12, Con 17, Int 13, Wis 11, Cha 5 Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 17 Feats Combat Expertise, Diehard, Endurance, Power Attack Traits berserker of the society, foreign opportunist, freed slave (andoran), threatening defender Skills Acrobatics -2 (-6 to jump), Appraise +3, Climb +5, Craft (carpentry) +5, Perception +1 Languages Common, Osiriani SQ heart of the fields, hero points Combat Gear potion of cure light wounds, oil (5); Other Gear kikko armor, bardiche, longsword, candle (2), chalk, hammer, hemp rope (50 ft.), hooded lantern, piton (4), sack (2), tindertwig (4), torch (2), 27 gp -------------------- Tracked Resources -------------------- Heart of the Fields +0 (Craft [carpentry], 1/day) - 0/1 Potion of cure light wounds - 0/1 Tindertwig - 0/4 Torch - 0/2 Special Abilities:
-------------------- Special Abilities -------------------- Berserker of the Society +3 rounds of Rage a day. Combat Expertise -0/+1 Bonus to AC in exchange for an equal penalty to attack. Diehard You are stable and can choose how to act when at negative Hp. Endurance +4 to a variety of fort saves, skill and ability checks. Sleep in L/M armor with no fatigue. Freed Slave (Andoran) +1 Will saves. Heart of the Fields +0 (Craft [carpentry], 1/day) 1/day, ignore an effect that would make you fatigued or exhausted. +1/2 character level to the selected Craft or Profession skill. Hero Points Hero Points can be spent at any time to grant a variety of bonuses. Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage. I also hope it's ok to pick the Freed Slave trait. It's not from Tamhas' region but seemed fitting.
Samy, didn't get a chance to post stats yesterday. Will Tamhas begin with normal starting wealth?
Ok so I amended Tamhas' backstory in the alias. It is broadly the same except now he has made a decision not to attempt the journey home. He is afraid his wife won't recognize him and his son will be afraid of him and it would be better if they didn't know he still lived. In the time he has been on the street after being 'freed,' he found that the only people who didn't look at him with pity or disgust were the street kids who begged alongside him. He whittles toy soldiers for them, tells them tales of the north and loves the wonder on their faces when he describes snow and ice. Tamhas wants to enter the lottery to earn enough money to better their lives. I'm going to play Tamhas as a gruff old soldier with a heart of gold whose icy exterior melts in the presence of children. He is a soldier and storyteller with a tale for every occasion, even if he does exaggerate how many Ice Trolls and Snow Dragons he has killed :)
Yeah it is dark. Undoubtedly so. But then I thought that might be an interesting counterpoint to the rest of the game. In terms of what brings him joy, I guess that's a fair question and honestly he's had such a bad time of it, it's difficult to think of him being played as anything other than a gruff, gloomy gus. If that's too wide of the mark for this game though, I have a fantastic archer bard that I has been in two games and never got past second level :/ and I know he would fit this game like a glove! He's amazingly cheerful and optimistic, the front man in the greatest band this side of the Eye of Abendigo! and a hoot to play. I'd love to give him a chance at this, I'd just have to think hard about where I put that 5 I rolled. From what I thought you guys needed, Tamhas is the best fit. From a pure fun and RP perspective (plus some very good skills and secondary arcane and healing), Fletcher Woodward is the man for the gig!
Backstory: It was a bright, clear day when they came. He remembers how cold it was because he had to melt the frost from the axe's head before he could pull it from the ragged stump he used to chop wood outside the farmhouse.
Tilda was inside, stewing vegetables into a broth that he knew would taste no better than the dirty water than ran from the fields to the stream at the bottom of the hill. And yet he would smile and compliment when he ate it because she had worked on it all day. His wife was not much of a cook but she was strong-willed and kind-hearted, two qualities far more important to his future son than being able to roast meat. She was large by now. Her shoulders were still slight and her arms lined with wiry muscle from her own work in the fields but the stomach that had been flat when he met her now bulged like a sack. The bump was low and Old Maggie said that meant it would be a boy. That's good. He had always wanted a son. He swung the axe down in a high arc, slicing through a thick lump of elm at the first attempt. After several more he began to feel that familiar burning in his shoulders and once again he gave silent thanks to Gorum that he was now chopping wood instead of necks. The Witch-War had scarred Irrisen badly and in the end he couldn't even remember whose side he was fighting on. Only that blood was brightest when it fell against snow. He tightened the furs around his neck, dismissing the thought. You've to raise crops and a son now, Tamhas, not arms. He continued to chop his wood. The riders came in the afternoon, black shapes moving out of the blustering snow. Every day from that to this he curses himself for a fool for not noticing their foreign skin beneath the low helms they wore. If he had perhaps thing would have been so different. The lead rider approached and Tamhas, believing him lost or perhaps in need of shelter for the night against the coming storm, greeting the man. Except instead of pleasantries he received a cudgel to the skull. At once the world exploded in a dazzling light and he found himself lying in the snow, everything spinning around him. Somewhere, his wife was screaming and something hot and wet was running down his face. He drifted in and out of consciousness for a time. Remembering vaguely being put on a horse and tied to the saddle. He has a distant memory of his wife's face, a mask of dread as she was thrown to the ground, hatred as Tamhas was taken away. That was the last thing he remembers. How his life was taken from him. ------------ The sun pounds down on him like a hammer. By the gods, I am not made for this weather. he breathes the words into the full-face helm. The man before him, wielding the actual hammer, strides forward through the sand, swinging the weapon in sweeping arcs. He's strong, and quick too. But every time he swings he has to check himself and I think that's how I'll beat him. Tamhas lunges forward with his spear, getting inside the man's guard. The hammer comes around in an arc that would crush his head like an apple but he ducks swiftly and drives his own weapon home into the man's gut. The roar of the crowd is deafening even under the helmet but he wonders, not for the first time, if they'd be so enthusiastic if it were them down here in the pit. Later, he knew that he would be washed and oiled and sent to the chambers of his Domina - owner's wife. His body was hard and lean, his face chiseled and exotic, to these dark-skinned southerners at least and so in the six years of his captivity his life had become days of fighting and nights of pleasure. The fighting was nothing new to him. The Witch War had made sure of that. But at first he had refused to visit the chamber of his owner's friends, leading to many beatings. In fact, his body wore more scars from those refusals than the pit itself. But in the end he had relented, not for fear of further pain, or even of his own life. But because he still harboured hope that he would get home one day and old the son he has never seen. It is a hope seemingly destined to be dashed. Seeking to give his audience a different sort of entertainment, Tamhas' Dominus decided to put him in the pits with a bear, a great shaggy beast from the forests far north. The fight was as one-sided as any rational man might expect. The beast tore into Tamhas with all the ferocity of it's kind. The very first swipe of it's great paw smashed his spear to pieces, the second tore his belly open like a split water-skin. He doesn't even remember the pain, just the horror of having to hold in his own guts as they threatened to spill out over his boots. In staggering back, he saved himself from a certain death blow, a swinging claw that would have ripped his head from his shoulders but instead tore of most of his face. As the blow his vision turned red as a mask of blood suddenly enveloped his face. He wiped at it desperately and with a kind of weird detachment was able to recognise pieces of his own flesh lying in the sand. A bit of ear, most of a nose, possibly a lip, definitely some teeth. He slumped to his knees and toppled, awaiting a biting death that never came. Darkness took him. It was after this that his owner turned him onto the street, months after his wounds had 'healed.' In truth his body was a ruin. A mass of scar tissue and a horrific visage of pain that made turn away and children weep. In all the months he took to heal he saw his owner's opulence where he would fall and twist an ankle - a cleric was sent for immediately, healing hands reducing the swelling. And yet Tamhas still lay on that cot, head bandaged in layers of dirty cloth. Bastard! After all the money I made him he never even sent for a healer! Now with nothing to his name, no skills to speak of, a stranger in a strange land, Tamhas sees no option but to take part in the lottery, hoping that the wealth of long dead men might be enough to see him home. He pulls the mask down over his ruined face. He wears it all the time now. In fact, he cannot remember the last time he was brave enough to look in the mirror. What if he is afraid of me? What if I repulse my own son? he wonders as he walks steadily toward the Necropolis.
Couple of quick questions Ictoo; are you planning on hero points in this game? And one other thing, when you mention that after level 1 players can take average +1 hit points or roll, can you decide to take average +1 after seeing the results of the roll? And if not, will you be rolling the hp? Actually that turned into quite a lot of questions lol
Definitely interested in playing this! :) I have a couple of concepts; my Bloodrager Dietrich who is a classic front-line damage specialist, easy to hit but can dish it out in spades too. The other option is an archer bard - Fletcher, buffing and inspiration with some secondary ranged support. Hmmmm.... choices... |