Yako Sutorenjā's page

Scalemail 50g +5+3-4

Nodachi 60g 1d10 18-20 P or S brace

10g Dark Cherry Go set

60g

HP: 12

AC: 17/12/15

MAB +4
RAB +3

Fort +4
Ref +2
Will +5

Diplomacy (Cha) +7
Sense Motive (Wis) +7
Knowledge (planes) +4
Perception +7
Survival +7
Knowledge (nobility) (Int) +4
Linguistics +1

Smite Evil 1/1

FCB +1 to LoH

Torment: A tortured crusader’s great suffering in the face of inevitable horror strengthens her faith and resolve, even as it makes her introverted and far less personable than most paladins. A tortured crusader uses Wisdom instead of Charisma as her key spellcasting ability score (to determine her spell DCs, bonus spells per day, bonus on concentration checks, and so on), and to determine the effects of lay on hands.
This ability alters the paladin’s spellcasting, smite evil, and lay on hands.

Self-Sufficient: A tortured crusader adds Knowledge (arcana), Knowledge (dungeoneering), Knowledge (planes), Perception, Stealth, Survival, and Use Magic Device to her list of class skills, instead of Diplomacy and Handle Animal. She gains a number of skill ranks equal to 4 + her Intelligence modifier at each level, instead of gaining a number of skill ranks equal to 2 + her Intelligence modifier.
This ability alters the paladin’s class skills and skill ranks per level.

All is Darkness: Everything around a tortured crusader is so bleak that detecting evil only reminds her that the odds are always against her. A tortured crusader doesn’t gain the detect evil or divine grace class features. At 1st level, a tortured crusader gains the smite evil ability, but she doesn’t add her Charisma bonus to attack rolls or a deflection bonus equal to her Charisma bonus to her AC against the target of her smite. At 2nd level, she adds a +4 bonus to attack rolls and a +4 deflection bonus to AC against the target of her smite.
This ability replaces detect evil and divine grace and alters smite evil.

Alone in the Dark: Faced with endless foes, a tortured crusader can’t ask others to confront the same horrors she does. She can’t use her lay on hands ability to heal others or to channel energy, though starting at 4th level, she can convert two uses of lay on hands into an additional use of smite evil. Her aura of courage, aura of resolve, aura of faith, and aura of righteousness affect only her, not her allies. When she selects a divine bond, it must be with a weapon, not a mount.
This ability alters lay on hands, channel energy, divine bond, aura of courage, aura of resolve, aura of faith, and aura of righteousness.

Aura of Good (Ex): The power of a paladin's aura of good (see the detect good spell) is equal to her paladin level.

Smite Evil (Su): Once per day, a paladin can call out to the powers of good to aid her in her struggle against evil. As a swift action, the paladin chooses one target within sight to smite. If this target is evil, the paladin adds her Charisma bonus (if any) to her attack rolls and adds her paladin level to all damage rolls made against the target of her smite. If the target of smite evil is an outsider with the evil subtype, an evil-aligned dragon, or an undead creature, the bonus to damage on the first successful attack increases to 2 points of damage per level the paladin possesses. Regardless of the target, smite evil attacks automatically bypass any DR the creature might possess.
In addition, while smite evil is in effect, the paladin gains a deflection bonus equal to her Charisma modifier (if any) to her AC against attacks made by the target of the smite. If the paladin targets a creature that is not evil, the smite is wasted with no effect.
The smite evil effect remains until the target of the smite is dead or the next time the paladin rests and regains her uses of this ability. At 4th level, and at every three levels thereafter, the paladin may smite evil one additional time per day, as indicated on Table: Paladin, to a maximum of seven times per day at 19th level.

Nemesis (Story)
A past enemy seeks your ruin.
Prerequisites: You must have at least one enemy who wishes to cause you great harm. If you have multiple enemies, the GM may keep the specific nemesis secret, or have many of your enemies work together against you. If your nemesis is not already a challenging foe, it either advances in strength to become a challenging foe or allies with others to achieve a higher challenge rating.
Benefit: Having a nemesis drives you to excel in training. For each new level you gain in a favored class, including the level you gained when you chose this feat, you can choose two benefits instead of one. One of these benefits must be either a bonus hit point or a bonus skill point, even if other options are available.
Goal: Slay your nemesis. Causing your nemesis’s death through your direct actions qualifies even if you do not strike the fatal blow, but another killing your nemesis without your involvement doesn’t count.
Completion Benefit: You gain a +2 inherent bonus to an ability score of your choice. In addition, you may retroactively apply your extra favored class benefit to the favored class levels you gained before taking this feat.
Special: Thwarting your plans becomes an all-consuming goal for your nemesis. Your nemesis gains a +2 bonus on attack rolls and damage rolls against you. Whatever you try to achieve, your nemesis seeks to tear down

Childhood Crush
You’ve never had the guts to act on it, but for as long as you can remember, you’ve had a crush on one of the NPCs. Someday, maybe you’ll be able to earn the NPC’s love, but for now, you’re content to spend time in the NPC’s proximity, or even to do things for the NPC that might earn you a word of thanks or a smile. Once per day, you may attempt to earn a kind word or a smile from the NPC whom you have a crush on by making a DC 15 Charisma check. If you’re successful, the elation and joy at the attention gives you a +1 trait bonus on all saving throws for the remainder of the day. If you’re ever lucky enough to win the NPC’s love, this +1 trait bonus on saving throws applies at all times, as long as your relationship remains active. Note that gender isn’t an issue in the case of these three NPCs. Unless your GM says otherwise, all three of these NPCs are considered to be bisexual as far as this trait’s implications are concerned. Note that if you take this trait, you’ll likely want to coordinate NPC choices with any other player who chooses this trait as well, since choosing the same NPC could cause unwanted party strife. Of course… if that’s what you and the other player are looking for, go for it! In addition, you gain a +1 trait bonus on all attack rolls against foes that threaten your crush. NPC Choices: Ameiko, Sandru, Shalelu.

Empathic Diplomat
Category Region
You have long followed the path of common sense and empathic insight when using diplomacy. You modify your Diplomacy checks using your Wisdom modifier, not your Charisma modifier.

Suicidal
Source Blood of Fiends pg. 31
Category Race
Requirement(s) Tiefling
Shame and horror fill your subconscious, and you never stop looking for ways to grant yourself the peace of the grave. Once per day, as an immediate action, you can make yourself the target of any attack originally directed against a creature occupying an adjacent square.

Attached
Category Drawback
You have a strong emotional attachment to a person or object that you’re terrif ied of losing. The GM chooses the object of your attachment. Whenever the object of your attachment is either threatened, in danger, or in someone else’s possession, you take a –1 penalty on Will saves and a –2 penalty on saves against fear effects. If the person or object to which you’re attached is ever lost, killed, or destroyed, exchange this drawback for the Doubt drawback.

Ability Modifiers +2 Str, +2 Wis, –2 Cha
Native Outsider: Tieflings are outsiders with the native subtype.
Medium: Tieflings are Medium creatures and receive no bonuses or penalties due to their size.
Normal Speed: Tieflings have a base speed of 30 feet.
Darkvision: Tieflings see in the dark for up to 60 feet.
Fiendish Resistance: Tieflings have cold resistance 5, electricity resistance 5, and fire resistance 5.
Languages: Tieflings begin play speaking Common and either Abyssal or Infernal.
Fiendish Sprinter: Some tieflings have feet that are more bestial than human. Whether their feet resemble those of a clawed predator or are the cloven hooves common to many of their kind, tieflings with this trait gain a 10-foot racial bonus to their speed when using the charge, run, or withdraw actions.
Maw or Claw: Some tieflings take on the more bestial aspects of their fiendish ancestors. These tieflings exhibit either powerful, toothy maws or dangerous claws. The tiefling can choose a bite attack that deals 1d6 points of damage or two claws that each deal 1d4 points of damage. These attacks are primary natural attacks.
Prehensile Tail: Many tieflings have tails, but some have long, flexible tails that can be used to carry items. While they cannot wield weapons with their tails, they can use them to retrieve small, stowed objects carried on their persons as a swift action.

At 7 and a half feet tall, Yako looms over most others, before taking into account his long tipped fox ears on top of his head and long thick sable tail absentmindedly swaying behind him. His feet and legs are vulpine as well, forcing him to forego footwear. His nails and teeth are naturally, for him, blackened as well and while there is bits of fur on the fingers of his left hand his right hand and arm are covered in a sable coat. Further up on his right arm's bicep is a school of koi tattooed. His eyes are black with gold irises but the right is circular like a human's while the left is slit and dilates like a beast's. His hair is past his waist and is inky slick black just like his fur that he tries to keep a knot tied around but it finds itself free sooner rather than later. On his right ear he has an earring in the shape of Tsukiyo's jade moon hanging and on his left hangs Shizuru's sun and sword.

Sutorenjā means stranger, Yakoa’s mother told him. It was the name his grandmother took for herself as she journeyed with others fleeing from mInkai across the frozen north to live in the west, eventually in Sandpoint. Whether she meant they were strangers in a strange land, or strangers from the other refugees he still wondered. She was a courtesan, one who had peculiar clients, one of which that favored her so much she was able to figure out that he was actually a fiend in disguise, and an assassin at that, judging by his comings and going in tune with certain notable disappearances. Prying her luck she was able to guess the next targts and attempted to warn them, to a certain amount of success. All she really accomplished was fleeing alongside them with the assassin’s child within.

That’s assuming you take that noble yet sad tale at face value and ignore the inconsistencies, and not ponder that it might be the cover of an assassin that failed in her mission and fled to avoid reprisal from her superiors. It was certainly something Yako’s mother pondered. It was something he pondered.

Life in Sandpoint was pleasant, in that it was quiet, aside from whispers, and had no assassins, except for those of character. By the time Yako was born his mother had already buffeted the whispers and distaste her and her mother had lived with so, aside from his ears being atop his head rather than aside and covered in fur, he lived a basic life. Feytouched, he told the others, for that is what his mother told him. Why else would a child have furry ears? Why else would a child like to steal for no reason? Why else would a child want to make his friends cry as much as laugh? Why else would a child want to slit someone’s throat just to see their neck and chest look pretty in red?

That last one Yako realized was not something a child should want, but just barely. He didn’t think it was wrong, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Something felt… off. Doing something vile, doing something just, neither felt right to him. Just… off. It showed in his body as well as he grew, while his mother was much more refined in her form and movement Yako and his body could make up it’s mind on whether he wanted to be boy or fox, his feet began to stretch and pad, making it painful to try and wear shoes. His nails and teeth blacked and hardened, and his right hand and arm sprouted fur faster than his left arm, a hairless tail sprouted from the base of his back, it would take a few more years to gain a coat of its own. His eyes became sensitive and focused, and his joints ached as he towered over the other children. The more they stared they more Yako realised something was off.

His mother did her best to console him, trying to maintain the lofty tales of whimsical fey as long as she could until she came to one morning after he hadn’t left the house in three days.

Why do you hide, she asked.

Because I hurt, he replied.

Your body is growing, it hurts as it stretches, she said.

Why do I want to hurt other people, he asked.

Because you’re hurting, she soothed.

Why do I want to steal, he asked.

Because what we have is small, she continued.

Why do I want to kill, he asked?

Before she could respond Yako let out a hellish screech, eyes glowing. When he calmed his mother relented.

Because we’re evil, she told him.

And told him she did of the Nogitsune, of being descended from monsters and assassins, of fleeing Minkai, of being tainted, and of needing to find balance. Yako sat silently as he listened, until the evening came and candles needed to be readied. When he finished his mother presented him with a gift, a belonging of his grandmother, something very precious she told him. An earring made out of jade shaped into a crescent moon. She did not say it was not precious to her mother, nor whether it was simply payment for services, or a trophy taken from a still warm body. Threading his ear she told him to focus on it whenever he needed to find his center between the sacred and profane. He had no reason to doubt his mother, so he didn’t.

If only it was that simple, while he now had something to help fight the urges and reflect on as he grew, it led to him becoming withdrawn and contemplative. He no longer interacted with others, only leaving the house at night when his eyes wouldn’t be bothered. Not wanting her son to become a recluse she presented him with something else she said was precious, a badge of a sun with a sword in front of it transformed into an earring rather recently. Another trophy? Another payment? Again his mother did not say as she threaded his other ear before telling them of The Two Lovers, Shizuru and Tsukiyo from her mother’s homeland. Something stirred in Yako’s mind as he heard about these foreign to him deities, a stranger in a strange land. Whether longing, or for more balance, he asked his mother what all she knew about these and she told him everything her mother had told her, including of a deity that was neither a stranger here nor there, the Lady of the Chrysanthemum, Shelyn as she was called here.

While the items were dubious to all but Yako, his grandmother’s interest in The Two Lovers were genuine, as shown in the amount of teaching and stories his mother now shared with him. He had gained a balance, a goal, and an outlet. When he asked on Shizuru his mother presented him with a final gift, a katana. Belonging to your grandfather she lied. Used to slay oni, she lied. Belonging to you now, she told the truth. From there, whether through inspiration or imagination or prayer he practiced with the sword he thought belonged to a noble samurai during the day, and praying to The Two Lovers, Shizurur before breakfast, and Tsukiyo after dinner for guidance. He proved gifted with the blade, either naturally or looked favorably upon by Shizuru his mother thought. Certainly not atavistically inclined towards weapons that slay. Certainly.

What are you doing, a voice asked him one day.

Training, he responded without fear, though he hadn’t talked with someone other than his mother in years he realized.

For what, the voice asked.

Yako stopped. I don’t know, he finally responded as he turned to look at the source of the voice.

Ameiko had come into the woods to practice her shamisen in peace, but instead had decided to question the odd fox boy about his business. A bodyguard? A duelist? A knight headed to the worldwound? He couldn’t answer any of her questions. She told him she practiced her music so others would like it, did he want to practice his swordsmanship to show off, or to protect or slay she asked. Still he couldn’t answer her. She asked if she could practice here so that she had an audience to perform for. Yes, he answered her.

It was pleasant, though unlike birdsong it made his heart pound, and it made his strikes harder. Before he knew it his strikes were in tune with the music, until he had to hold back so as to not be sloppy, or vicious, or cruel in his movements. The music soothed and stirred him, he wanted to dance, but he wanted to sleep, he wanted Ameiko to keep playing, but he wanted Ameiko to stop. And before he could think of clapping or clawing her as she finished he realised how horribly out of tune he was once again, if he had ever been tuned properly in the first place and not simply distracted by stories and games.

She would visit frequently to practice more, and tell him bits of news she had heard before and after, making his home and woods seem so very small. She would practice, and he would practice, then she would stop, and he would stop, and she would smile, and his face would be blank, because it could not decide if it wanted to smile or snarl. He didn’t want the music to stop. He wanted to make a meal as a thank you for her. He wanted to steal her shamisen and make her guess where he hid it. He wanted to get her a set of pretty earrings like he had. He wanted to kill her and bury the body and make her family guess where he hid it. He didn't want the music to stop.

I’m going to the Worldwound, he told his mother after one too many songs left his heart unable to settle.

There’s demons up there, his mother replied.

I know, he said. I will kill them, he said.

Do you just want to kill, or to protect, she asked.

Yes, he replied.

You’ll die, she replied.

Then I will die doing something I have chosen, and I choose to die justly, even if it doesn’t feel right, it’s what I choose, he replied.

Tears came from his mother’s eyes, for she realized she had no more gifts to give her son, no more lies to save him, and no way to keep him here in the woods.

Will you walk honorably, she asked.

I will try, he answered.

I can not come with you, she said.

I would not ask you too, he answered.

Is there anything you require, she asked.

You have given me Shizuru and Tsukiyo, and my grandfather’s sword, you have taught me how to watch, and how to hunt, you have told me of our homeland, and now you have given me your tears, he said as he wiped her eyes.

The next morning he made his north, leaving his mother to tell his favourite musician of his departure the next time she came. It took many months, with many prayers to The Two Lovers along the many crusader roads as he continued to hone his blade, at first on nothing, then on starving animals, then on starving bandits, then on starving fiends before arriving at Mendev. Uneasy but not surprised at seeing a Tiefling they began the standard procedure for enlistment when it came to fiendspawn.

Why are you here, they asked.

Because I am evil, he answered.

What do you intend to do here, they asked.

Become good, he answered.

And if you can’t, they asked

Then I want to die justly, so that others will not have to, he answered. The more he prayed to Shizuru the easier these answers came. Before sleep after he prayed to Tsukiyo he was plagued with questions, so he prayed less and less to the moon, and more and more to the sun. As time went on what his mother told him, and what the Iomedaens told him began to mix even as his connection to The Empress grew as he trained, even being able to express that connection as his hands healed, something he could not believe they would ever be able to do.

He did not object to being sequestered away with other undesirables, criminals and other tieflings, for whatever jobs were available. Most were grueling, or deadly, but rarely were they pivotal. He did not object, for this was work that needed to be done. He did not object as his squadmates were lost one by one and two by two and replaced just as easily, for they knew what they had signed up for.

The sword was the first to break.

It was an elegant weapon, made for quick precise slices, not as a cleaver to butcher endless hordes of demons and cultists, through acidic blood and burnt bones. There was only so much upkeep that could pamper the blade before it snapped on a shield. The cultist survived a quick death just to earn his head smashed down and Yako’s thumbs piercing his eyes and scratching his brain in rage. He was easily able to scavenge another weapon, a longsword, a morningstar, a greataxe, but they were all heavy, blunt, ugly, no different than cleavers. Eventually he was able to find a smith that could craft a blade similar to the one he had lost, now big enough for his frame, which at this point towered over the other crusaders. It looked like his sword, but it too was heavy, blunt, and ugly. They were all cleavers now. That’s all they had ever been though perhaps.

The encroaching abyss hid the sky, Yako knew not when it was sunrise but did his best to pray when he thought it was ,and throughout the day as well, and when healing his allies, and when avenging them, and when avenging the ones that came after, and the ones after that, and when butchering the demons before they could strike, or the cultists before they could infiltrate, and before long he was back to avenging whatever fresh criminal or fellow tiefling had come to the edge of the abyss for hope of a second chance. Years passed, and Yako realised there was no honor here, just blood and flesh to spill and split and smash and rip and tear.

And he did not object, even as his prayers became muddled, brief, and hollow. Did he pray to either Shizurur or Iomedae? Were either of them listening? Did either care? Did he? Or was he sated now? Had he finally found his center, knee deep in gore, fiend and person alike, him a stranger to both? There was a clarity in the numbness, but it did not bring him peace. Even as The Empress started to revoke her gifts to her wayward servant, a weight was lifted. But it had been a comforting weight.

And then, one night, or day, allowed for rest as there was preparations for the next battle he saw it, off in the distance in a bit of the sky not hidden by the chaos, a glinting piece of silver hanging on. He only saw it briefly, but it was enough to instill in him some lunacy, for music to fill his head and heart even though there was no musicians about. There was just one song he knew, and it melted the numbness and burnt the fog, and he wept. He didn’t want the music to stop.

The preparations were halted by the not so surprising surprise attack by more demons, and when they were butchered some needed to go forth to request supplies and reinforcements in key areas. Yako was part of the volunteers, now playing messenger he and the others had targets on their back. But even with The Empress gifts waning they made it to sunrise, figuratively, as they arrived in Nerosyn. And there he resigned, and forfeited his commission and severance.

How many years had it been? What all had he seen? They didn’t ask. He didn’t ask. They had seen that face before, every crusader here had it after too long. He carried it with him as he left, even as he started to pray to Tsukiyo again. He did not want to disrespect Shizuru further as he prayed to her less, in moderation, not in lapse. He prayed to Shizuru for guidance, but he prayed to Tsukiyo for answers as he made his way south along the many crusaders roads.

Not recognizing much coming from the opposite way, and the years certainly not helping, it took many months for Yako to arrive in Sandpoint, though it felt much shorter than that. Returning to his home he found it cold and empty, his mother long gone just like her mother before her. But, it seemed his mother had lied again, and had one last gift for him. An elegant cherry wood Go set made for traveling was out on the floor, not covered in dust like the rest of the house. He had seen his mother and grandmother play it as a child, though he had never had the patience to play against his mother himself. Perhaps he would get to play a game against her one day he thought as he picked up the set. But first, there was a certain song he wanted to hear.