Hello my fellow Andorans! While there already exists a thread for our folk to rally and prepare, I realized while reading it that I did not know these names and faces.
I am Elar Stravan, a simple son of the earth, and lover of freedom. My father was a miner, as was my father's father, and his father before him. I myself seek a somewhat grander fortune.
When I was but a boy, my father and his fellow workers accidentally broke through a wall into a long abandoned and buried crypt. I still remember the strange men and women who flocked to our small community upon the discovery of this crypt, seeking to plunder and loot its contents. Most of thos ewho entered were never seen again, but eventually two men came out claiming to have fought great beast and carrying sacks -- SACKS!!! -- of gold and other treasure.
It was then that I saw my calling. I reckoned that if I could find other crypts and dungeons buried beneath the ground, I could stake my claim on them, and make a fortune selling plunder rights to these adventurers. That is why I joined the Pathfinder Society, to seek out dungeons and sell the rights to the treasures contained within, and to gain access to a network of those foolhardy enough to crawl in a dark hole full of undead and other nastiness.
I came to join the Andoran League several years later. I had begun working the mines myself, seeking to earn enough money to buy a sword and some armor, but found myself constnatly short on funds. the local baron taxed our mines so much that we could barely keep food on the table, let alone save for our future. That was how the Andoran fellow foudn us, and he convinced us to strike against the barons. He brought us arms, and taught us to lay traps within the mines. We fought long and hard against the barons, and eventually we won. I discoverd then that there was no greater gift one could give than freedom, and my loyalty has been to Andoran ever since.
Who are you? What drove you to join the Society and the League?
|⦵ Gellius Ratarion|
Gellius barely remembers his parents; his last memory was of them hiding him and his sister, Valeria, in their home. He remembers his father giving him the ring he always wore and telling them to stay hidden and quiet. His curiosity got the better of him though, he looked through the crack in the wall they were behind and he saw something that still brings nightmares to him to this day, beasts clothed from head to toe in imposing infernal armor. Then he heard screams and silence. He wanted to cry but his brave sister kept him silent.
Many years later he would learn that those infernal armored beasts were not beasts at all but Hellknights. He still does not know why they hunted and killed his parents. All he could learn from his sister was that his parents loved him and the ring given to him was the family crest and he should keep it.
He and his sister grew up in the slums of Westcrown barley eking out a living through begging and pick pocketing. Life was harsh but as long as he and his sister were together they would survive. That did not last. His sister, who grew into a beautiful young teenager was set upon by a slaver and taken away from him. He would never see her again but vowed he would find her and free her.
As he grew, his hatred for those in power of Cheliax grew to fervor. He was able to find other like minded young men and women who joined him in a gang to fight the depravity of the Chelish nobility. At first they did simple acts of thievery and vandalism, but soon they grew more daring, waylaying slaver caravans to free the slaves. Their exploits soon caught the eye of the Hellknights who ambushed them during a raid on a slaver caravan killing the gang to the man and woman except for himself who was able to escape.
With his life forfeit and a bounty on his head accusing him as a terrorist to the Empire, he fled Chelxia finally ending up in Absalom, there he met Captain Colson Maldris, who introduced him to the ideas of Andoran and to the Pathfinders. He joined the pathfinders soon afterwards in the hope to gain friendships and connections that will someday help him find and free his sister and to bring his rebellion back home.
Greeting fellow countrymen and women. I am Maurya, a bard, diplomat, adventure, and lover of freedom. Some of you may have met me on my recent adventures, and others may have heard of my exploits... not all of it is true. I was born in Andoren and have learned to cherish my freedom and the honor the price that must be paid to protect that freedom. With all of us working together, may the light of freedom shine on all who despair and are downtrodden by tyrants and devils.
(For more information, click on my profile).
Greetings my fellow Andorans. I am Sillitta Ederus, though, these days, I also answer to Sil, a simpler name to be sure. I was raised in the home of wealthy Chelaxian parents in Absalom and attended the arcane academy at Egorian. I was poised to take my rightful place at the head of my family's merchant house, poised to grow rich from the labor of slaves bought and sold as dumb beasts.
My destiny, though, was destroyed. During my last year at the arcane academy, a moment of indiscretion cost me my freedom, my very humanity. Details? You want details? Allow me, then, to explain. Competition at the arcane academy is intense. In an effort to gain advantage over my classmates, I sought to acquire a certain iron brazier, a device used in the summoning of devils and creatures of elemental fire. I was caught in the act by the owner of the iron brazier, one of my own beloved professors. In a fit of rage, the man hauled me before the other professors and the students of the arcane academy. Judgement was passed and, moments later, my sentence was executed. I was expelled, stripped of my spellbook, then magically transformed into the lowly form that I wear to this day.
I am thankful to the powers that be at the academy that I was at least returned to my parents household in Absalom. My parents as you might imagine did not hold the warmest welcome for me. I was, after all, now a halfling, a mere slip. I feared for a moment that they might simply have me killed or sold far away, but I believe that they still love me, or did at that point. They turned me over to an older halfling couple who had toiled in our household for years, that I might learn the lessons of my new station in life and some skill useful to a slave.
With time, my anger faded to acceptance. True, I missed my long slender legs, my dainty feet and the fine slippers that once adorned them. I missed commanding slaves and arcane energies. It's this last, the wielding of magic, that I missed most. Power, especially magical power, is addicting. I sat up each night, after my chores were finished, after I should have been asleep, trying to recreate my lost spellbook from memory. Much to my frustration, I could fully recall only one simple spell, a cantrip for reading aracne text.
As fate would have it, that one spell proved enough. My younger sister had followed in my footsteps, studying wizardry in Egorian. On her triumphant return to Absalom, a feast had been prepared in her honor. Her feast however was interrupted by a band of Andoran abolitionists. I must admit, at the time, I thought them all raving lunatics. My halfling foster parents had taught me to sieze any opportunity, so I stole my sister's spellbook and allowed myself to be carried to freedom by the Andorans.
Shortly after my liberation, I was asked by the Andorans to join their cause. Initially, I refused, choosing instead to seek work as a maid, a simple servant, so as to not draw unwanted attention to myself or my adopted parents. As I scurried about, offering drinks and cucumber sandwiches to guests at a Taldoran garden party, I again ran into one of the Andoran agents responsible for my hard-won freedom (what he was doing at the garden party, I am still uncertain). He seemed so disappointed in me. I tried to explain that at least I was no longer a slave, that I was at least working for wages. This impressed him very little, and he again offered me a cause. I begrudgingly accpeted and was quickly introduced to more of my new Andoran brethren, as well as the Pathfinder Society.
"Greetings brothers in arms. My name is Roark Folcard, one time thug turned devotee of freedom. The veil pulled back from my eyes, I see now the tyranny and injustice heaped upon the meek, the unfortunate, and the poor. My past indiscretions have been wiped clean in the light of Truth." The tall, lanky, dark haired young man pauses, takes a breath then: "Truth is discovered only in those ideals so sublime as to be granted not by beings who would call themselves gods, but by the most noble of creatures, Mortalkind. We must forge a world born in the fires of freedom, tempered by justice, and forged by the most righteous and most virtuous of all those ideals: Self Determination and Common Rule. An end to slavery, an end to corrupt rule. By the sword, we will elevate by liberation and by the word, we elevate by illumination. These must be our goals Andorans! Rise and claim your place as the most exaulted of nations and spread the word far and wide!"
Roark raises his his fist in greeting, the fire in his eyes gleaming.
Ye mariners all, as ye pass by
Come in and drink if you are dry
Come spend, me lads, your money brisk
And pop your nose in a jug of this
Oh mariners all, if you've half a crown
You're welcome all for to sit down
Come spend, me lads, your money brisk
And pop your nose in a jug of this
Oh tipplers all, as you pass by
Come in and drink if you are dry
Come in and drink, think not amis
And pop your nose in a jug of this
Oh now I'm old and can scarcely crawl
I've a long grey beard and a head that's bald
Crown my desire, fulfill my bliss
A pretty girl and a jug of this
And when I'm in my grave and dead
And all my sorrows are past and fled
Transform me then into a fish
And let me swim in a jug of this --traditional sea shanty
Though I was born a son of Andoran, I have spent as much of my youth on the waters of the Inner Sea as I have on the land of my beloved country. From the age of about eight until very recently, I have sailed with my father, Bartleigh "Bart" Hewerson on the annual trade circuit from Almas to Augustana, south to Totra, Sothis, and Katheer, then north to Oppara and Cassomir before heading back west to Almas.
In my travels, I have seen much of the Inner Sea region's cultures and have always been struck by the stark contrast between the republican ideals of my homeland and unecessary harshness of the so-called "traditional" regimes. Still, the many lands of the Inner Sea were an endless source of wonder and entertainment for me. I must admit that I took to the tales and legends of distant lands and ancient times far more easily than I did the "honest" work of a sailor.
My quick wit and silvered tongue got me out of just as much trouble as my innattentiveness to my chores got me into. Still, my love of the sea has remained constant. The crews I have sailed with have always loved my rousing sea shanties and tales of adventure. After conversing at length with some of the more educated merchants and sea captains, I also learned I have a knack for oratory. I have given more than one ill-mannered brute a piece of my mind about his (or her) country's shameful treatment of its citizens...and though my arguments were both cogent and persuasive, they also got me restricted to the ship in many ports around the Inner Sea. Fortunately, I had the company of Janardan, a Vudrani sorcerer who was willing to teach me the basics of personal magic.
After over a decade alternating between sailing during the warmer months and earning my keep by singing and telling stories in the taverns and on the streets of Almas, I decided my destiny held something bigger in store for me. Inspired by the tales I had been telling for years, I hired on as a crewman on a ship bound for Absalom, City at the Center of the World.
Though I was not financially fit for acceptance into the bardic college in Absalom, I was able to find a few men and women willing to share what they knew of bardic lore in exchange for some of the songs I had learned or for a few coins when I was able to spare them. Though I am not yet an extremely skilled bard, my natural talent is enough to help me earn enough to survive.
I'm not sure what exactly I'm looking for out in this wild world, but I'm fairly certain I'll know it when I see it. In the meantime, I'll be happy to enjoy the journey. The life of a Pathfinder holds a promise of excitement and wonder that I can't resist. If I can advance the cause of freedom and republicanism throughout the Inner Sea, then so much the better. And it couldn't really hurt if I gain myself a little notoriety in the process...could it?
|⦵ Alexite Pindleloric|
Born into the life of the Andoran aristocracy, politics was like second nature to him. Growing up in the city of Almas, to be a charming young man, he used his acute instincts of politics to his advantage, garnering contacts within the government and the merchants of Andaron to his family’s benefits.
His family hoping he would go into politics encouraged his behavior even though sometimes this behavior would get him into trouble, mostly with merchant families that believed they may have been taken advantage of by the charming young man.
His family wanting to further the family fortune betrothed Alexite to a powerful merchant and politically savvy family’s daughter. By this time Alexite, who had decided he wanted more adventure in his life and did not want to be tied down by marriage was able to gain a position as a spy for Andoran and left Almas to further the interests of the Andoran republic. He decided what better way to do this then to join the Pathfinder society.
A dark figure emerges from a shadowy corner, his face rough and his clothes looking to be needing some serious cleaning, his hair matted in some places, perhaps mud, or possibly blood...no smell of death comes from this man, his green eyes showing a calmness from a man who has certainly seen death. He is armed simply with a Longsword and dagger on opposite hips and a longbow on his back.
"For Freedom I am here!" His voice rough and tone lacking any form of etiquette, "I hail from the wilds, my parents were Andoreans and explorers. My life has been about survival, I make my home in the wilds and make my business making sure men are free and able to choose their own callings and destinies." He pulls a skin from behind his back and takes a drink, "For this cause I have pledged, for this cause my family has bleed and died." Re-corking the skin he returns it to it's hidden location, makes a slight bow though not taking his eyes off those in the room, "I am Thorin, a tamer of the wilds and rescuer of the enslaved. It is my honor to meet others in the same cause."
Orlin "Trogdor" Frostspeaker
Greetings, brothers. My tale is sad, but it is not one of woe.
I was born in the northlands, to the Ulfer tribes. My father, Arlon, was a shaman to the village. The frozen wastes are a lonely place, but fortunately I was always surrounded by my brothers, friends and family. Until, that is, one day...
It was mid spring, as the men of my village began preparations for the Hunt. I begged and pleaded to go. I wanted to be one of them so much, to be a proud hunter, but of course I was too young. So, as the hunters departed, I stole out behind them, armed only with a toy bow.
I was quickly outpaced by my elders, and I had to strive to keep them in sight. So engrossed was I in that, I never saw them. I never saw their pointed helms, their curved blades, or their feral expressions. A scourge of Qadiran raiders captured me...
I woke some time later in the belly of a dank ship, surrounded by strangers. The smell of human sweat and feces was overwhelming, and my hands and legs were held in place by thick, rust and blood flecked manacles.
It seemed like we were trapped in that pit for weeks. After a few days, I found a fellow Ulfer, who explained my fate. I was to become a slave to the Qadirans, and would be put to work, and eventually killed... provided I survived the trip. The conditions were not kind to a child, and I became very ill during the voyage. I lost so much of my weight, I was sure I would not survive.
Fortunately, my ill health worked to my advantage. I fetched a much lower price in the auctions, and avoided becoming a "hand servant" to some twisted noble. I was purchased by Rasem Daersal.
Rasem was a camel racer, and trained me to become a jockey for his steeds. I learned quickly, and became a proficient rider in months. As my skill improved, so did my health. Rasem sold me two months later, because of my weight and my "arrogance".
My next owner was Nathifa Hammara. Nathifa was a successful salt merchant, who owned several mines in the eastern deserts. He needed workers with small frames to dig.
A salt mine is the abyss on Golarian. Imagine a pit of darkness, full of jagged rocks, encrusted with salt, in the heart of a desert. This was my home for many years, as I grew from a frail child into a toned young man.
One day, I was confronted by Nathifa. He called me lazy and stupid. I retaliated, by calling him a coward. Enraged, he decided he would send me to participate in his favorite pastime: The blood pits.
The blood pits are a type of arena held in an isolated part of the desert. There, slave owners offer up combatants for the amusement of the crowds and to make a profit if their slave is successful. I was only fifteen, and had never held a sword, or killed a man.
I should have died there, in those pits. I think a part of me did. Somehow, my body survived, and I became a skilled warrior. Whatever grievances Nathifa had against me, he knew I could net him a profit as long as I fought and survived.
I don't know how long I could have lasted there. To my salvation, a band of Andorans attacked the bloodpits and freed me.
For saving my life and my soul, and to free all who pull the yoke of Qadir, I pledge my allegiance to Andor!