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Greetings. I took over a Runelords game recently and we are in need of an Arcane caster.
Good choices include battle mages and utility mages. This is a story involving one of the most powerful wizards in history, so the more you can do the better.
The party is 2 brawlers, a gunslinger, and a cleric.
___________
Level 1
Max hp for level 1
HP gain upon leveling is roll. You take your roll or mine, but you don't get to see mine until after you choose.
20 point buy
Final ability scores no higher than 18, and no lower than 8
150gp for all classes
2 Traits, 1 strongly encouraged to be campaign. All traits must be incorporated into the character's backstory/personality.
No custom races
All paizo classes, archetypes, races, etc allowed, so long as they fit the character and don't unbalance the party.
I would like a sample post where your character interacts with another sentient creature, I want to see internal dialogue and how your character "assess the situation"
I also would like a description of your character, both physically and of personality.
I will roll up an admixture wizard!
Dotting, will incorporate RP stuff into profile later after work.
well not exactly an arcane type but possibly a fun character.
no idea how far along you are but the stuff is in the profile...
Golwen is 100% complete, expanded on a few things, fixed stats, fixed money, character sheet is done, RP stuff is done. All done!
Cheers and good luck to everyone else.
I didn't think I would have time to make an arcane caster but I did, still working on equipment and a familiar or Arcane Bond.
His is a link to his Alias Kipperdink
I have never played an Arcane caster before so I envision him as becoming an arcane tricster by taking three levels in unchained rogue or Alchemist(Vivisectionist)
Anyway good luck with selection.
It takes a second your eyes focus on the creature in front of you and you realize that it is a gnome with an oversized bicorn hat on his head. As you examine him further you see that he has blue beard with large mustaches and eyes the same sapphire color, he is wearing leather armor with an assortment of pouches, bandoleers, scroll cases, and containers strapped to his body. He wears a dagger at his side and a crossbow on his back. As your brain catches up with your eyes you realize that he is talking to you:
“Common, you do speak, yes” as he looks at you curiously “I thought quicker of wit were dwarves”
Stammering you say, “I’m not a dwarf”
“Well no gnome are you, a gnome knows a gnome. Dwarf sure ye not be?” he doesn’t wait for your reply “Oh well, to me alike you all look.”
He continues walking toward your side of the table with the tray and asks, “Dinner, I asks, wanting some will ye?”
You remember your manners and offer, “Can I help you with that tray.”
The gnome steps back and with a look of frustration and offended says, “No! These things do I can, you think that I can’t but do I can. No. No. No. Back step please” and he places the tray on the table in front of you.
“Why do you speak so funny?” You ask.
“Oh” he considers for a moment, “Sorry about that, I spent some time in Tian Xia and they speak and think a little backwards on the other side of the world, some times I forget. Is this more correctness?”
“That’s better,” you nod.
The sweet aroma drifts up from the table and you ask, “What is it?”
The Gnome smiles, “This is an Osirion Goat Curry served with a Mango Chutney that I learned to make while studying in Sothis.”
Smiling, you give the gnome a compliment and say, “It smells great. How long have you been the cook?”
Testily he snaps, “Oh because I be small, I can’t be an adventure, only tall folk can join the pathfinders, so by your logic I can only bee the cook, well small people can do great things, you don’t think I can do these things but I can!”
You manage to get a word in and ask “Sorry, you’re right there is more to you than meets the eye, why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
“Yes, yes, right you be, introductions are best before tea.”
“Well let me start over.” He stands straight claps his heels together and bows deeply at the waist, “I am Kipperdink Dinkerdawn, at your service, gnome adventurer and world traveler as well as renowned cook, historian, and etymologist which is the study of languages, not entomologist which is the study of insects, disgusting creepy crawly little critters, some are poisonous, prone to swarming, no I would never study that, ugh ... disgusting except when covered with chocolate or caramel, the ratfolk of Goka have an interesting dish, served as an appetizer with a strong mead. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it, maybe I’ll make it tomorrow… no tomorrow is Mintas mince cakes. Anyway, I dabble in engineering, arcane studies, mathematics, gaming probability, and spelunking. Oh yes amateur astrologer and reformed gladiator as well.
He gets a thoughtful look on his face, “I’m sorry, I forgot my manners, I am all flubergated… tea, tea usually helps me when I’m flubergated” and he reaches across the table and begins to pour two cups of tea.
Over the next hour and several cups of sweet tea you learn that Kipperdink Dinkerdawn’s earliest memories are of being raised by his father, Thranx Dreaddingle deep underneath Droskar’s Crag, an inactive volcano northwest of Falcons Hollow. He relates that his strongest memories of the place are of the heat, the infernal oppressive heat, between the stifling caverns, and the endless monotony of the place it nearly drove the curious gnome mad. He explains that he was overjoyed when his father told him they would be leaving to continue his education. Education he wondered, what would he learn, he buzzed with excitement, he couldn’t wait to begin. He really wanted to study the taste of things tasty yummy things. Kipperdink tried to keep an open mind and looked forward to seeing what the world at large had to offer. He would soon regret leaving.
His first lesson of world at large was of pain, hot searing pain that penetrated to his very bones. To this day he can clearly recall the pain as the whip was repeatedly brought down upon his back and the look of ecstasy on his fathers faces as he watched the beating. With the blood still dripping down his back his father leaned over and whispered in his son’s ear “soon you will learn to enjoy the pain and to revel in the misery, and suffering of others.” This was Kipperdink’s introduction to his father’s efforts to educate him in the ways of the Dread Gnome.
Central to Kipperdink’s father’s plan was Captain Malgot the Razorfin, he was the one wielding the whip, captain of the pirate ship the Bloody Wake. The Captain was a huge Wereshark standing well over seven feet tall and was full of hatred, malice, and anger. Malgot was a harsh taskmaster and ran a tight ship, a severe disciplinarian whose favored method of dealing with disobedience was to devour the disobedient creature. Malgot thrived on the fear in others and fear traveled with him like a ripple in a ships wake. Unfortunately, for those he encountered, Malgot was also a highly skilled Magus that used a trident and electricity to dominate his foes in combat. Kipperdink never understood his fathers and Malgots relationship if anything they seemed to be peers and kindred spirits.
Under the thumb of his father and Captain Malgot is where Kipperdink would spend the next 14 years of his life; learning pain, loss, and sorrow. The beatings were part of the lessons and apparently he was a slow learner as it was almost a daily occurrence in the beginning. Slowly he went from receiving the beatings to administering them to the rest of the crew and captives, his father was right in this regard it was more enjoyable to give the beatings than to receive them. Around the clock he was tethered to the mast with a line of rope. He yearned for lessons on seamanship, piloting, and navigation or how to swim but that was never to occur, instead it was always the same sun beating down on him day after day. The crew avoided him and he found himself alone, stuck with his own thoughts, If I could only escape, I would travel the world, and sample different foods. My tongue would rejoice in the different sensations! The only respite from his daily existence came as he watched his father and Malgot spar. As taxing as his existence was, and no matter how severe the beatings were, the food was always the worst part of his stay aboard the Bloody Wake. Everyday there was fish, fish, and more fish. There was fish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and all points in between. There was baked fish, boiled fish, steamed fish, grilled fish, roasted fish, salted fish, poached fish, fried fish, sautéed fish, fish in fish sauce and fish any dozens of other ways, but always fish. Now a Wereshark may subsist on a steady diet of fish but for a growing gnome it was tortuous. Between the food, the pain, and the malevolence of his father and the ship’s crew his existence became misery. After his second escape attempt Kipperdink learned the meaning of the word shark bait and knew his next failed attempt would result in his death. Looking back on the situation the boat, the crew, the captain, and the foods was all meant to break him, to change him, and he was very close to breaking. After 14 years of this abuse a severe case of sulluncolly set in and just when Kipperdink was about to give up hope, and give in to his fathers wishes, his situation changed for the better.
It happened while the Bloody Wake was docked at the port of Oyster Cay in the Shackles. It was evening and his father and two thirds of the crew were enjoying the revelries of the port. Kipperdink, as usual, was tethered to the mast with his usual length of rope. He wipes a tear from his eye and continues, “That is when I heard the voice coming out of thin air.” At first he thought he had finally cracked, but voice was persistent, and he listened. The voice told him it would help him escape, so he needed to be quick and listen. After that things happened fast, first, there were torches approaching the ship, the crew saw them and went toward the rail, then one of the sheets on the mizzen caught fire, the ships crew was in commotion, caught between repelling those approaching the boat and putting out the fire, pandemonium reigned. The voice, or the person behind the voice, sliced my bonds, grabbed my arm, and poured some sort of oil all over my head. The voice told me to hurry and follow, still holding onto my arm. At this moment I realized I was invisible. With great hope we quickly made our way to the gang plank and were a few steps away from escaping when Captain Malgot emerged from his cabin cursing. Upon seeing him I froze, fear coursing through my body. Malgot looked right at the spot I was standing, with a smile filled with razor sharp teeth he said, “Going somewhere shark bait?” The next few moments were a blur, a ball of fire exploded around the captain, and the body that owned the voice that was grabbing my arm materialized. The ship was ablaze and the captain was on fire, the captain jumped overboard hoping to quench the flames, the crew was in disarray, and before me stood the most amazing creature I had ever seen; she was a little taller than me, with neon pink pony tails and joy emanated from her body with every step. Strangely, I saw my own eyes staring back at me from this remarkable woman. She pulled on my arm again, with no hesitation I followed her, and we made our escape.
I later learned that this amazing individual was my mother, Jai Joyjottle. She explained that my father had kidnapped me after an argument they had about the appropriate way to raise me. She explained that she finally tracked me down and saw an opportunity to rescue me. Words cannot describe how grateful I was.
We fled the Shackles and spent the next eight years on the island of Minta were I learned to share my mother’s love of food and of a meal well prepared. While there I learned to spell hunt with the Wayang spell hunters, to use my magic to provide food. It was an ideal life, and this is where I learned to laugh again, and to find pleasure in the simple things. Unfortunately, this ended when my mother asked me what I wanted to learn next, what I wanted to do. I still recall tears she shed when I replied “revenge.”
Over the next twenty years my mother continued my education as we traveled the world sampling a variety of different things, tasting different cuisines, learning to mix the martial and magic. Over the years I studied with a various assortment of magi. I recall a Tengu using fists and fire, a Grippi that used a net and magic, a Sylph that used the wind and a whip, and a witch that could make her hair grow and entangle you while she bombarded you with cold and hexes. These masters were my instructors; however we never stayed in one place very long, but always long enough to get a new recipe
This all ended a year ago when my mother dropped me off at the Stone of Seers in the Varisian city of Magnimar. She said I could learn more about magic here and that she had done all she could to prepare me for the path I had chosen, but couldn’t bear to watch me become consumed by my anger. I never saw her again. Kipperdink explains, with the color rising in his face, “that unfortunately his time at the academy only lasted five months as he got Fumious with a teacher and as a result of the altercation was expelled.”
With few other options Kipperdink next tried his hand in the arena at Serpent’s Run where he became a gladiator. This too was unsatisfactory and he was filled with Frustidication at the mock battles. This is when he realized his mother was right, he didn’t need revenge he needed adventure, the open road beneath his feet, a tale or two to tell the grandkids around the fire, to rescue a damsel or three, find new recipes, and with that thought he decided to travel to Sandpoint and learn more about the Hagfish recipes the Inn there was famous for. <And someday revenge might be nice too.>
Kipperdink is a smallish gnome who wears an over sized black bicorn hat. He has blue beard, with his upper lip shaved, He has a crazed look in his eyes which are the same sapphire color as his beard. Kip wears a coat made out of the hide of a fish or lizard of some sort, with an assortment of pouches, bandoleers, scroll cases, and containers strapped to his body. He wears a worn dagger at his side and a crossbow on his back.
I would like to submit my newest creation(s), Mr. Brooks and Ham. Please note the archetype requests at the bottom. A brief history and description are on the character sheet. It is worth noting that the whole "amnesia" thing isn't just a way to cop-out of making a background. I originally had a whole story about being raised in a minor noble family (the nation would have depended on what campaign I was accepted into) before an attack in which Ham made himself known, and Mr. Brooks was disowned. I just liked the idea of Mr. Brooks not knowing anything about his past, and the potential for him to run into people who recognize him. If selected, I will happily adjust him to your guidelines, and change his backstory if you so desire.
http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=600165
The sample interaction will be posted tomorrow afternoon.
Xynen here, submitting Tas for your review, please let me know if anything needs to be altered or fixed by your estimation to qualify as a full submission. Back story and description can be found on the alias profile along with a link to his character sheet. RP Sample below.
NOTE: At the time of this posting I have not spent money on gear, since it does not effect Tas' combat capabilities I figured I could choose to supplement party inventory if chosen for the AP.
"Tas!" She shouts one more time, pulling a lock of his golden hair to finally grab his attention.
"This gentleman has been trying to purchase that ointment from you for four minutes!", she smiles at the customer trying to look more playful than angry. "I swear this bo-"
The younger half-elf cuts his mother off with a gesture. "Actually mother, he already purchased the ointment, he's been waiting, patiently might I add, for me to finish the last page of this book, which he has also paid for."
His green eyes smile as he hands his mother a few coins from his pocket. He closes the book as she walks away shaking her head.
"She forgets I've grown up sometimes. Not that it matters to you, I suppose. Tell me, what is someone from Sandpoint doing collecting old Thassilonian tomes? Usually we're just selling burn ointment to the glassblowers apprentice when we're here." He laughs lightly at the memories, having befriended a few of the apprentices over the years traveling with his caravan.
"Bevole, come!" Tas stands from his seat as the skunk curled up below his table of wares is enveloped by a mist of magical energy that moves towards the young man and settles around his forearm, where it leaves behind a tattoo of exacting likeness to the sleeping animal.
He yawns as the energy dissipates, "No, no I'm not tired, " he says waving off the strangers concern, "just a side effect of the transfer, I get momentarily overwhelmed by his state of mind when we rejoin."
He gathers his coat and they begin to walk toward the town proper, the book buyer having promised to discuss his theoretical procedure to break into Crystilan over drinks at the tavern.
"But first you need to tell me about this business you mentioned with the Goblin attacks! Are the hero's still in town? I'd love to meet them, we always seem to just miss the trouble. Which by all means is good for business but I never do get to have any fun."
Ah. Kinda didn't notice the current party makeup in my sleep deprived haze. I guess Mr. Brooks won't fit the bill.
I am going to withdraw too. As much as I want to play RotRL I just can't get excited about playing a pure Arcane class. Any good luck.
Is this PFS play with chronicle sheets?
well I really don't think Fulito has a chance here.
maybe I should drop out.
