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![]() Ah. Alrighty, well that's that build dead. I have some other thoughts - I'd love to try something like a Kobold Dragonheir Scion, but it's kinda nonsensically written and I don't know that you want to mess with fixing it. Gloomblade looked interesting, and I have some ideas for a Crossbowman... lemme think a little more. ![]()
![]() My current thinking character-wise is actually two characters; twins. When the revolutionary committee came for them, one was too wounded to escape and to spare him the touch of La Belle Dame Sans Merci the other killed him. Of course, they'd always sworn the fight would end only when both of them were dead... Mechanically, he'd be a spiritualist. ![]()
![]() GM Sappy wrote: @Whiskey and a Bonesaw: Welcome! Looking forward to your ideas! Just a reminder, balancing Spheres of Might was a nightmare, so the Vector archetype would have to wait until proper level 1. However, the Vector is quite the overhaul, so adding the archetype later would be weird... I'll have to think a bit about this. Perhaps limiting Martial Traditions to 1-2 talents could be appropriate. I had kinda figured he or she (I haven't decided) would just not get anything SoM-related until level 1, making her/him a mediocre telekinetic. ![]()
![]() There is actually an Armiger archetype that focuses on creating combination weapons, very similar to the trick weapons in the Player's Guide. It's the Battlefield Tinker. ![]()
![]() Joseph Soltz wrote:
Hadn't noticed it was in the recommended feats, thank you. Swashbuckler it is then! ![]()
![]() Another question for you, Hunger: Does the Swordlord archetype get EWP: Dueling Sword? It doesn't say it does, but all of its abilities are useless without one. If not, it doesn't kill my idea - there are a few ways to build my concept, this is just the most direct. I'm liking how many Aldori Swordlord concepts there are; it's making me hope for a themed party. ![]()
![]() Background:
Ever seen the city network? Turned off all the filters, all the ad-blockers, and just opened yourself up to the torrent? Shining neon circuitry mapping out dingy back-alleys and shining highways of information, pop-ups like suffocating crowds in three dimensions, and above it all the guiding light of advertisements so large they blot out the horizon. All those channels, and nothing good's on. Still, sit there for a while and you may notice something strange. Little lights, fighting against the current or twisting streams in new directions. Follow them, and they'll change your life
I'd found out about House .> mostly by accident. I'd noticed the little lights, like a fair-few others, but hadn't ever been able to put a pattern to their movements until about two years ago. Me an' some mates were out tagging some corporate graveyard, an old office building left behind by the city, and we found an old fiber terminal. Back when IoT was just some geeks wet dream, the whole 'net ran on these so, being the inquisitive type, I came back later with some gear to see what it was still hooked up to. Wasn't expecting much; the whole network had been dismantled - except it hadn't. The old fiber was the missing link in the nonsense-pattern the lights maintained, and its occupants weren't too happy to see us. Now, they could've just killed me. But .> appreciates potential, and when they showed me what they were doing, fed me breadcrumbs, I jumped at the chance to sign up. Since then I've done some things I'm not proud of, and some things I am. The knowledge though, the things they're teaching me, makes anything worth it. I've ditched the Earth Path entirely, in favor of focusing on Illusion and Literature (shame about losing the physics-focused bits, but the dirt-focused are a little incongruous). Some Questions:
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![]() DM Aku wrote: Warpriest is a class from Advanced Class Guide, which is not one of the allowed source books for this game. Oracle on the other hand is available, but you must use the archetype described above, to replace the pathfinder magic system with spheres of power. :) Whups, right. Oracle it is then; he'll be something of a gish. Focusing on War and Protection spheres, maybe with a bit of divination thrown in. Battle mystery, since Ancestors is off the table. ![]()
![]() Spheres of Power with a GM that's read (and enjoyed!) Erikson! Be still my beating heart. I do have one question, before I get to building: What do you mean by 'Basic Spheres of Power'? The original SoP rulebook? I've always worked off the Wiki, so I'm not entirely sure what is and isn't in it. Current thinking is a Divine Heretic Warpriest if it's allowed, an Oracle if it isn't. ![]()
![]() I've made a copy of the character sheet and am walking through the mathy parts of character creation now, or rather I will be once I've gotten a few hours sleep. The Literature sub-path looks amazing, assuming I can use electronic messages in place of the books and scrolls mentioned in the description. I'm also considering picking up the Shamanism disadvantage, with the spell components being programs on his smartphone/PDA/laptop if that's alright. ![]()
![]() Quick update, just to get some ideas on paper. Fluff-wise, I'm definitely thinking a .V member - a college dropout from the outskirts of Boston who figured out early on that the easiest way to get ahead was to game the system. While he was still in school he went on walkabout through some of the stranger parts of the internet - the kind that don't show up on Google - and attracted the attention of one of .V's Houses. As soon as they provided proof-positive that not only was magic real, but that they could teach it to him, he was hooked. His particular House is focused more on merging magic and technology, or at least trying to. Mechanically, I'm thinking an Illusionist using the Earth and Illusion Paths. If there's something in the Arcana Exxet that you feel looks more appropriate, let me know; I don't have access to that one. ![]()
![]() GM JC Spooks wrote:
Or Robert Johnson. ![]()
![]() Once you're past Paladin 2, a dip into Bard would give you both Versatile Performance and Pagent of the Peacock. ![]()
![]() Samnell wrote: Ok. Your BAB is still listed as +4. Can break down your CMB and CMD for me? Not seeing how you get a +4 (shouldn't it be +3 from flat BAB?) and a 19 (17? 0 str mod, +4 Dex, +3 BAB). BAB is +3, CMB is +3, CMD is 10 (Base) + 3 (BAB) + 4 (Dex) + 2 (Dodge bonus from Inner Sphere Stance). Sigh. And I make a living doing math. ![]()
![]() Samnell wrote:
Gah! I knew, just knew, that there'd be a typo in there somewhere. (Actually, I found two more while I was frantically checking all my math.) I've corrected and re-posted everything below. Barra's patron deity is Lathander, though that's more due to his lifestyle than anything else. For someone born and raised in Sundabar, the Morninglord seems the closest he'd get to a god of revelry. Barra
Fluff:
Four Years Ago
Slowly, painfully, Barra clawed his way back to consciousness. Every inch of his body hurt - his tongue had grown hair, someone had re-purposed his skull as a church bell, and some Morninglord-damned bastard had put a massive flaming orb in the sky. "Myaa..." "Oh good, you're awake. And it's not even 10th bell." Barra's uncle stooped, setting a mug of steaming willow tea down next to the couch before going back to his desk. His arm shot out, and Barra drained half the mug in one gulp before sitting up. He took stock. His feat hurt, so he must've gone out last night, and his side was absolutely covered in bruises. He might have cracked a - Oh. Latharna. And her brothers. He took another deep sip of tea. A half-bell later and with two to go before his shift started, Barra wandered over to his uncle's desk and asked "So what're you deciphering today? More of our ancestors ancient techniques for farming in a forest?" "No, I finished that. This is something Cait, the older lady down the street, found in her attic. Some kind of instructional manual, I think, from the days of Ascalhorn. Maybe even older." His uncle smiled at Barra's interest and passed him a few pages. "It looks like a dance." Barra's eyebrows shot up. "A dance?" He tested his ribs again, and thought of that beautiful girl. "Can I help?" --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------- Last Year Signal horns sounded across the city, though Barra could barely make them out over the screams. The orcs had breached the gate. He and two or three others had taken shelter inside a livery - the militia was scattered, their commander was dead, and no one knew anything. Save that the orcs had breached the gate. Under the door, he could see shadows moving and his shaking hands tightened on his shortswords. He could smell them, all blood and rancid fat and wet dog. He looked to Latharna next to him and she nodded, touched his hand. There was a rippling crack as the door splintered inwards, and a massive orc carrying some kind of ram stepped inside. It had to duck. In a surprisingly mellow basso it shouted "Horse flesh!" and then stopped, sniffing the air. "Man flesh." Behind it, more orcs filtered in. With a sharp cry, the militia members charged. Barra's vision tunneled on an orc on the left and, as it lunged at him, he came up short and took a half step back. And, for a half-moment, the world stopped. His ball change echoed like the beat of some enormous drum, vibrating up from his feat and into his arms, and near-instinctively he stepped into an outside turn around his partner. The orc's guts spilled onto the straw, and those same echoing beats accompanied his footwork. Without really knowing why he smiled and advanced, trying to keep the beat going. It was beautiful. He and the other militia members fought like dervishes, like the entire battle had been choreographed. Soon only the massive orc was left, and his arms and legs were scored with cuts. They danced around him, weapons flickering, and it went down on one knee. And then Latharna misstepped, and the orc's ram caught her in the knee. She screamed, Barra screamed, and he drove his sword into it's jaw before running to help. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------- Today Barra was standing outside the temple of Torm, frowning at a horse. Around him, priests and packers and other poor souls were bustling back and forth in a frantic effort to prepare for the journey to He'd agreed to this foolhardy expedition as a favor to his uncle, and because it looked likely to pay more than busing tables. Maybe even enough to afford a temple ceremony, or a few badly-needed spells. He hadn't expected the horse. Barra hated horses, hated the way they smelled, hated the way he felt after a day of riding them. It snorted at him. He broke the stare, turning around. His uncle was there, with his bum arm, and next to him was Latharna, leaning on her cane. He grinned despite himself. For them, he could survive the horse.
Crunch: Male Half-Elf Bard (Rubato) // Fighter (Weapon Master) 3 CG Medium Humanoid (Human and Elf) Init: +4; Senses: Low-Light Vision; Perception +6 --------------------------------------
AC: 20, Touch: 16, Flat-footed: 14 (+4 Dex, +4 Chain Shirt, +2 Inner Sphere Stance)
--------------------------------------
Speed: 30ft
Maneuvers Known:
Active Stance: Inner Sphere Stance Stances Known:
--------------------------------------
Bardic Performances: (13 rounds/day)
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Fighter's Kit, Skeleton Key, Two Masterwork Shortswords, Masterwork Chain Shirt, Ioun Torch, Common Dungeoneering Kit, Dancer's Garb, 346g
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![]() Lightfooted Barra
Fluff:
Four Years Ago
Slowly, painfully, Barra clawed his way back to consciousness. Every inch of his body hurt - his tongue had grown hair, someone had re-purposed his skull as a church bell, and some Morninglord-damned bastard had put a massive flaming orb in the sky. "Myaa..." "Oh good, you're awake. And it's not even 10th bell." Barra's uncle stooped, setting a mug of steaming willow tea down next to the couch before going back to his desk. His arm shot out, and Barra drained half the mug in one gulp before sitting up. He took stock. His feat hurt, so he must've gone out last night, and his side was absolutely covered in bruises. He might have cracked a - Oh. Latharna. And her brothers. He took another deep sip of tea. A half-bell later and with two to go before his shift started, Barra wandered over to his uncle's desk and asked "So what're you deciphering today? More of our ancestors ancient techniques for farming in a forest?" "No, I finished that. This is something Cait, the older lady down the street, found in her attic. Some kind of instructional manual, I think, from the days of Ascalhorn. Maybe even older." His uncle smiled at Barra's interest and passed him a few pages. "It looks like a dance." Barra's eyebrows shot up. "A dance?" He tested his ribs again, and thought of that beautiful girl. "Can I help?" --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------- Last Year Signal horns sounded across the city, though Barra could barely make them out over the screams. The orcs had breached the gate. He and two or three others had taken shelter inside a stable - the militia was scattered, their commander was dead, and no one knew anything. Save that the orcs had breached the gate. Under the door, he could see shadows moving and his shaking hands tightened on his shortswords. He could smell them, all blood and rancid fat and wet dog. He looked to Latharna next to him and she nodded, touched his hand. There was a rippling crack as the door splintered inwards, and a massive orc carrying some kind of ram stepped inside. It had to duck. In a surprisingly mellow basso it shouted "Horse flesh!" and then stopped, sniffing the air. "Man flesh." Behind it, more orcs filtered in. With a sharp cry, the militia members charged. Barra's vision tunneled on an orc on the left and, as it lunged at him, he came up short and took a half step back. And, for a half-moment, the world stopped. His ball change echoed like the beat of some enormous drum, vibrating up from his feat and into his arms, and near-instinctively he stepped into an outside turn around his partner. The orc's guts spilled onto the straw, and those same echoing beats accompanied his footwork. Without really knowing why he smiled and advanced, trying to keep the beat going. It was beautiful. He and the other militia members fought like dervishes, like the entire battle had been choreographed. Soon only the massive orc was left, and its arms and legs were scored with cuts. They danced around it, weapons flickering, and it went down on one knee. And then Latharna misstepped, and the orc's ram caught her in the knee. She screamed, Barra screamed, and he drove his sword into it's jaw before running to help. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------- Today Barra was standing outside the temple of Torm, frowning at a horse. Around him, priests and packers and other poor souls were bustling back and forth in a frantic effort to prepare for the journey to Auvandell. He'd agreed to this foolhardy expedition as a favor to his uncle, and because it looked likely to pay more than busing tables. He hadn't expected the horse. Barra hated horses, hated the way they smelled, hated the way he felt after a day of riding them. It snorted at him, meeting his eyes. After a moment he broke the stare, turning around. His uncle was there, with his bum arm, and next to him was Latharna, leaning on her cane. He grinned despite himself. For them, he could survive the horse.
Crunch: Male Half-Elf Bard (Rubato) // Fighter 4 CG Medium Humanoid (Human and Elf) Init: +4; Senses: Low-Light Vision; Perception +6 --------------------------------------
AC: 20, Touch: 16, Flat-footed: 14 (+4 Dex, +4 Chain Shirt, +2 Inner Sphere Stance)
--------------------------------------
Speed: 30ft
Maneuvers Readied:
Maneuvers Known:
Active Stance: Inner Sphere Stance Stances Known:
--------------------------------------
Bardic Performances: (13 rounds/day)
--------------------------------------
Fighter's Kit, Skeleton Key, Two Masterwork Shortswords, Masterwork Chain Shirt, Ioun Torch, Common Dungeoneering Kit, Dancer's Garb, 313g
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![]() Oh, this has sent my head a-spinning with ideas! I've started brainstorming, and I've a question for you: How do we deal with Prestige classes in gestalt? One of my ideas would want to go into Dragon Fury. A Few Rolls: Set One (and hopefully only): 4d6 ⇒ (2, 4, 3, 5) = 14 4d6 ⇒ (5, 1, 3, 3) = 12 4d6 ⇒ (5, 3, 1, 2) = 11 4d6 ⇒ (6, 4, 3, 1) = 14 4d6 ⇒ (2, 2, 3, 6) = 13 4d6 ⇒ (4, 6, 5, 2) = 17 14 point buy... lets try again. 4d6 ⇒ (6, 5, 3, 5) = 19
21 point buy. I'll have to give this one some thought; I'm not even sure I can play a character with a five in an ability score.
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![]() Hm, color me very interested. I do have two questions though: - How long will recruitment be open for? I ask because I'm spending the weekend hiking. - Are we rolling our stats in order? Current thinking is a Divine Marksman Ranger (re-fluffed to avoid the religious connotations), though I may swap that for a brawler if they wind up being allowed. ![]()
![]() FangDragon wrote: Ended up watching Indiana Jones and The Holy Grail which was randomly on TV today. I'm so tempted to do the whip thing - down side it needs 3 feats before you can do interesting stuff like grab items. Of course there's more than one way doing this: Animate Rope spell & prehensile whip trait covers most of the cinematic whip uses for a much lower cost. Besides in any serious fight Indy used his fists or a gun anyway. I think I'll steer away from guns since I'm not a massive fan of them in medieval fantasy games (I'll make an exception for Iron Gods however ). There's always the Kinetic Scourge archetype - all the fun of Indiana Jones, and your whip is on fire. ![]()
![]() I've an idea for a UMonk (Maybe Brawler)/URogue, but before I start writing his background I had some questions:
Edit: Forgot a question; are you alright with the Combat Stamina feat? ![]()
![]() May have helped that most of us prepped specifically for this test, buying items to negate DR (Silver) or Bleed (really wish I had known about the Blood-Chilling Pill - blowing even one of those concentration checks could have killed me). Chej drops down into the auditorium seat with a loud 'flumph' and from his bag pulls out a bottle of polish and a rag. He goes to work cleaning devil blood off his blade; keeping one eye on the arena and trying to figure out what everyone else was badgering on about. ![]()
![]() Well, this looks interesting. I'm thinking a Sun Warrior Mageknight... Rolls:
Set 1:
4d6 - 1 ⇒ (6, 1, 6, 6) - 1 = 18 4d6 - 1 ⇒ (5, 6, 1, 4) - 1 = 15 4d6 - 3 ⇒ (5, 3, 6, 3) - 3 = 14 4d6 - 1 ⇒ (1, 3, 6, 4) - 1 = 13 4d6 - 1 ⇒ (1, 4, 6, 6) - 1 = 16 4d6 - 1 ⇒ (2, 3, 1, 3) - 1 = 8 Set 2:
Looks like Set 1 it is! Now to get down to the nitty-gritty. ![]()
![]() Chej: Shifting his grip onto the blade, Chej lunges at the thing's thick neck only to shift the blade at the last minute and drive the point into its shoulder.
Bluff to Feint: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (12) + 16 = 28
About Kazz D'AvoreStats:
Kazz D'Avore Fetchling Summoner(Master Summoner/Shadow Caller) 1 L/N HP 20 / 20
Str 14
Fort +2
BAB +2
Mwk Comp. Longbow (+2str) +6 (1d8+2/x3)110ft
Shadow Summoning (SM II) : (8 / 8 Day) Traits : Heirloom Weapon(Longbow), Destined Diplomat, Rostalander
Feats : Point Blank Shot, Augment Summoning, Rapid Shot
Skills : 8 Ranks (6 Level, +3 Int, +2 FC)
Languages : Common, Draconic Spells : DC 13+spell level Concentration +4
Spell Like Abilities : Disguise Self 1 / 1 Day Gear :
Total Weight : 54lb
PP - 0, GP - 478, SP -10 , CP - 14 Ammanas:
Eidolon (Effective level 1) Biped Base Small
Fort +2
BAB +1
2 Claws +3 (1d3+1) Feats : Alertness
Evolutions (3pt) : Claws(0), Limbs(Arms)(0), Limbs(Legs)(0), Skilled(Knowledge Planes)(1), Skilled (Stealth)(1), Skilled(Sense Motive)(1)
Languages : Common, Draconic Background:
Prince Kazz D'Avore was to have been born the first child of Tammaran and Illyria D'Avore, rulers of the Kayal nation of Invermere in the Shadow Plane. Invermere being unique among the fetchling kingdoms in that it, at least in name, retained independence from the great Umbral Dragons that hold the true power on the Shadow Plane. In truth, the kingdom was as subservient as any other and the king and queen retained their titles purely at the discretion of the great wyrms.
When they learned of their pregnancy, Tammaran and Illyria vowed that their son would not be born to an Umbral yoke. They took up rebellion against the dragons. Unfortunately, generations of subservience had robbed the Kayal people of much of their independent spirit and nobility. The fighting was brutal and bloody but short lived. A mere six months later the Kayal forces stood broken and defeated. Being cruel creatures the Umbrals were not satisfied with anything so simple as victory. A terrible price was to be paid by those responsible. It was decreed that every child henceforth born to a member of the D'Avore family would be sacrificed at birth to appease the Umbrals. Tammaran and Illyria had fought to give their descendants a brighter future, the great dragons would ensure there was no future at all. The King and Queen of Invermere would live to see the last of remnants of their line wither and die. It would seem that Kayal were not completely broken however. Using what little power remained to them, Tammeran and Illyria were able to spirit their son away from the Umbrals at his birth and have him shipped off to the Material Plane where he might be able to hide from their influence. It is unknown whether something happened in the transit or if the D'Avores had not been able to send a protector but Kazz arrived with no one to look after him. A small ash skinned child, alone on a street in the Brevish town of Silverhall. Kazz spent the early years of his life in the orphanage in Silverhall. It was not far from easy growing up the only Fetchling in a city where most knew no more of his people than the derogatory term itself. He grew up miserable, lost and often hungry but the young Kayal lived and that would have to be enough. It would seem that the Shadow Plane itself was not done with it's wayward child. It was around the time of puberty that the shadows began to fill Kazz's dreams. He would see places he had never been, hear whispers of lost glory spoken from darkness that filled his mind and seemed more real every night. Then one day he woke and found that the darkness of his dreams had followed him to the waking world. A creature seemingly composed of solid shadow stood before him. Vagely humanoid it stood somewhat shorter than her did, it's legs seeming somewhat formless as and it seemed to more glide across the ground than walk. The creature felt wholely familiar to Kazz and as it spoke within his mind he knew he was lost no longer. The entity that called itself Ammanas would go on to teach Kazz many things. It told him of the destiny that had been lost to him, spoke of how his parents had been imprisoned by the Umbrals after robbing them of Kazz's life. How the Wyrms has promised them they would live to see the death of their only child and the end of their house. Ammanas spoke to Kazz of the power within himself, of a link to the realm of his birth. Showed him to to manipulate this bond and form creatures of shadow and wield deadly power. Kazz eagerly drank in all that his shadowy mentor would teach him. He left the orphanage behind and set out to make a new destiny for himself. Ammanas showed him how to survive on his own and the young Kayal's strength grew with him. On the day he would have become a man in Invermere, Ammanas brought him a great curved longbow crafted of ebony wood and black horn. Inlayed in silver on either end was the D'Avore crest. Ammanas told him that the bow had belonged to his family for generations but would not say from whence it had been procured. Kazz clung fiercely to this sole piece of the life he would never know. In the few years that followed he would become quite competent with the weapon. Kazz spent the next few years making a name for himself in Brevoy and The River Kingdoms. He worked for various lords and information gathers, using his natural affinities for subterfuge and stealth to his advantage. When he heard of the charter to explore the Stolen Lands, Kazz immediately saw the potential to do more than earn the respect of a few minor nobles. This was an opportunity for power that might truly be his own. He had lost the destiny he was born to but perhaps this was his chance to forge a new one that would burn just as brightly.
Patron:
Appealing to the Swordlords directly, Kazz has been hired on as their direct agent within the greenbelt expedition. He is tasked with discretely ensuring that their interests are maintained as the wild region is brought to heel. His immediate contact is the Swordlord Jamandi Aldori in Restov. Appearance:
Standing a little shy of six feet, Kazz has ash grey skin and a head of thin, white hair that hangs to his shoulders. Kazz has refined, angular features that give him a look of intensity. His pupil-less eyes are deep teal pools that seem to glow softly in the dark. A heavy cloak of dark blue hangs over his fine studded leather armor. The bow he carries is a great thing of dark wood and horn. A strip of leather is wound around the stave near each end.
The small creature at Kazz's side seems composed of solid shadow. It's shape is vaguely humanoid but seems to shift subtly as it moves, never remaining too well defined. Neither the creature or it's master cast any shadow regardless of the time of day. |