Elysium Squad RG Thread

Here is the Rogue's Guild Thread for the Elysium Squad game. The game features servants of Pelor who are being sent into the region of Quehalost on the world Enigmatica. Quehalost is known for its vile evilness in nearly ever aspect of the land. The land is divided up into vile lich kingdoms, vampiric hierarchies, skeletal armies, demonic portals, devilish pools, and other unmentionable wastelands of unspeakable horrors. If planar travel was not so difficult to come by, evil would surely spill out of Quehalost and into the surrounding lands. As it is, the surrounding lands of Fenneress and Tongra have all they can do to keep the vile evil in check. The players herald from Barghast - a land as self-proclaimed righteous as Quehalost is evil.

There are a few people living in Quehalost who might possibly qualify for neutral - and even fewer who would qualify as good. Nearly every turn the adventures must assume that they are their only lifeline to each other. A few safe spots may exist - but one mistake might just lead to certain death.

The characters follow:

Geeo vec-Gooa
Aetos 1Rogue, 3Paladin of pelor
Alignment: Lawfull Good

Str 17 -10points +1level
Dex 12 -6points -2race
Con 14 -6points
Int 10 -2points
Wis 14 -4points +2race
Cha 14 -4points +2race

HP 36

Ac 25 (10 +1dex +1size +9Plate +4shield)

Initiative +1

Saves
fort +7 +3pally +2con +2cha
ref +6 +1pally +2rogue +1dex +2cha
Will +5 +1pally +2wis +2cha

Base Attack +3

Attack: MasterWork Maul +7 (1d8+3, x3 crit, bludgning)

Full Attack: See Above

Speed 20


Feats and class skills
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Level 1 Feat: Exotic Weapon Prof (Maul)
Level 3 Feat: Power Attack

Rogue Level 1: Sneak attack +1d6
Rogue Level 1: Trapfinding

Paladin Level 1: Aura of Good
Paladin Level 1: Smite Evil 1/day
Paladin Level 1: Detect Evil
Paladin Level 2: Divine Grace
Paladin Level 2: Lay on Hands (6)
Paladin Level 3: Aura of Courage
Paladin Level 3: Divine Health
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Skills, 38 points
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Diplomacy 8 +4rank +2cha +2race
Handle Animal 5 +1rank +2cha +2race
Hide 1 +2rank +1dex +4size -6armor
Gather information 6 +4rank +2cha
Knowledge (Religion) 4 +4rank +0int
Listen 6 +4rank +2wis
Move Silent -3 +2rank +1dex -6armor
Ride 3 +2rank +1dex
Search 4 +4rank +0int
Sense Motive 11 +7rank +2wis +2race
Spot 6 +4rank +2wis

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Gear
[sblock]
+1 fullplate (2650gp) (25lb)
+1 heavy steel shield (1170gp) (7.5lb)
Masterwork Maul (315gp) (10lb)
Backpack (2gp) (.5lb)
Trail Rations(7) (3.5gp) (1.75lb)
Waterskin(2) (2gp) (2lb)
Travelers Outfit(2) (2gp) (2.5lb)
Bird Tokens(4)
3 Blue Quartz (10gp)
2pp 5gp 4sp 9cp



49.25lb of gear
lightLode 64.5
Medlode 129.75
heavylode 195


5400gp total
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Ratical traits
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Abilities: +2 Wisdom, +2 Charisma, -2 Dexterity

Size: Small

Speed: 15 (20)

Languages:Common, Aetoille

Personable: Aetoi have an innate gift for interpreting other creature’s body language. They receive a +2 racial bonus to Diplomacy, Handle Animal, and Sense Motive checks.

Shield Practiced: The Aetoi love for wearing armor grants them a +1 racial competence bonus to their AC when using a metal shield of any kind except bucklers.

Armor Practiced: The Aetoi spend so much time training in metal armor that they are accustomed to moving in it. All Aetoi are automatically proficient with the chain shirt, scale mail, chain mail, and breastplate. In addition, like dwarves, Aetoi can move their standard movement allowance in medium armor made of metal. Unlike dwarves, this movement allowance does not pertain to carrying a medium load unless the Aetoi would be carrying a light load if his armor weight were not included.

Favored Class: Paladin
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Backround
" Name?" the cleric asked
"Geeo vec-Gooa, Gooa Vec-Zuur, Zuur Vec-Oolo, Oolo Vec-Shee, Shee Vec-Puro...." Stated the Aetos. The cleric sighed. he hated the fact that the Aetos simply had to list their geneology back as far as they could remember it. " Hrm" the cleric finaly running out of what little patience he had, cutting the aetos off " What section are you interestid in, Geeo?". "I want to join the Holy Warriors![color]" stated Geeo hopefuly.
"Age?" the cleric asked. "18 winters" Geeo replyed. " Your a bit young to be away from home, arn't you?" the cleric asked, arching an eyebrow. he personaly had never seen a single Aetos under the age of 70. "Not at all, its perfictly normal for us" was what Geeo ment to say. what came out was "Yes it's very rare to see one of my age away from home"
From the shocked look on the little Aetos face, the cleric could tell that he had said something he had not ment to. Bending over to the aetos, the cleric placed a firm hand on his shoulder. " Little one, you should go home, it is not your time to join the ranks of Pelor's holy warriors" "NO, I will not go home!" shouted geeo "My family has broken their honor and i must restore it!" The cleric was shook by the aetos's vehmnence. An Aetos abandining his honor, no wonder the little one wanted to join the ranks. " Very well little one, we shall see if you are fit for the ranks" the cleric stated as he reached for his parchment to record the Aetos name on the rank's of recruits.


Geeo stands 3'0" tall and weighs in at a whooping 38lb, he has Blond hair and brown eyes. He is currently 28 (10 years after this story)

Eva of the Lilies
Human Fighter 4
NG

STR 16 +3 (8 pts plus lvl 4 stat bonus) ... zealot's strength, despite a small build
DEX 10 +0 (2 pts) ... still young and somewhat awkward
CON 14 +2 (6 pts) ... zealot's determination
INT 10 +0 (2 pts) ... peasant background
WIS 9 -1 (1 pt) ... to reflect the oddness of the voices, and the all-encompassing faith
CHA 17 +3 (13 pts) ... because as a visionary & would-be champion, you need to grab the attention of the faithful

...

HP: 40

AC: armor bonus +8 (Half Plate +1)

• (with buckler) 19
• (without buckler, using 2-handed weapon) 18

Initiative modifier +0

BAB +4
Fort +6 (+4, +2 CON)
Reflex +3 (+1, +0 DEX, Feat)
Will +2 (+1, -1 WIS, Feat)


+1 Bastard Sword (one-handed): +9 to hit, 1-10+6, 19-20/x2
+1 Bastard Sword (two-handed): +8 to hit, 1-10+7, 19-20/x2
Masterwork Light Mace: +8 to hit, 1-6+3, 20/x2
Spear (two-handed): +6 to hit, 1-8+4, 20/x3
Spear (thrown): +4 to hit, 1-8+3, 20/x3, range increment 20'


Feats and Class Skills
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• F(1): Weapon Proficiency: Simple, Martial
• F(1): Armor Proficiency: Light, Medium, Heavy
• F(1): Shield Proficiency
• R: Voices of Pelor: Equivalent to Lightning Reflexes (+2 to all Reflex saves), plus bonus RP stuff on the side
• C(1): Exotic Weapon Proficiency: Bastard Sword
• F(1): Power Attack
• F(2): Weapon Focus: Bastard Sword (+1 to hit)
• C(3): Iron Will (+2 to Will saves)
• F(4): Weapon Specialization: Bastard Sword (+2 to damage)

Notes:
F - Fighter feat (n - Fighter level at which this feat is attained)
C - Character level feat (n - Character level at which this feat is attained)
R - Racial bonus feat, Human
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Skills 8+2+2+2=14 skill points
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• Search +0 (0 cc ranks, INT)
• Listen +0 (2 cc ranks, WIS)
• Spot -1 (0 cc ranks, WIS)
• Craft (Tailoring) +3 (3 ranks, INT)
• Handle Animal +5 (2 ranks, CHA)
• Ride +2 (2 ranks, DEX)
• Intimidate +5 (2 ranks, CHA)
• Knowledge: Religion +1 (2 cc ranks, INT)
• Swim +4 (1 rank, STR) *x2 total ACP(-6) applied to Swim checks

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Gear
[sblock]
Armor

• +1 Half Plate (+8 armor, Max +0 Dex bonus, -6 ACP; 50 lbs) 1750 gp
• Masterwork Buckler (+1 armor, -0 ACP. Note: -1 to hit with 2-hand attacks while wearing buckler, other than bow or x-bow; 5 lbs) 165 gp

Weapons

• +1 Bastard Sword (6 lb, antique sword - mysterious gift of the heavens) 2335 gp
• Masterwork Light Mace (4 lbs, head of the mace is fashioned to resemble the Sun - gift of the church, hung at waist) 305gp
• Spear (6 lbs, adorned with self-made pendant - orange triangular field, with simple sun design in center) 10 gp

Misc.Gear

• Peasant's Outfit (2 lbs) 1 sp
• Wooden Holy Symbol of Pelor (- lb, given by father) 1 gp
• Backpack (2 lbs) 2 gp
• Bedroll (5 lbs, strapped to backpack) 1sp
• Pouch, Belt (1/2 lb, on belt) 1 gp
• Lantern, Bullseye (3 lbs, hanging on backpack) 12 gp
• Waterskin (4 lbs, hanging from shoulder) 1 gp

Backpack's Contents

• Winter Blanket (3 lb) 5 sp
• 3 Candles (- lb) 4 cp
• 3 Flasks of Oil (1 lb ea) 4 sp (+1 more in lantern)
• 7 days Trail Rations (1 lb ea) 35 sp
• Artisan's Tools - Sewing Kit (5 lbs) 5 gp
• Pouch - for coins & gems (1/2 lb) 1 gp
  • 1 silver pearl (250 gp ea) - 250 gp
  • 2 amethyst (100 gp ea) - 200 gp
  • 4 onyx (50 gp ea) - 200 gp
  • 5 lapis lazuli (20 gp ea) - 100 gp
  • 5 blue quartz (10 gp ea) - 50 gp
  • 6 gp

Pouch, Belt

• Whetstone (1 lb) 2 cp
• Flint & Steel (- lb) 1 gp

107 lbs total weight: Medium Load, 20 ft. speed
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Description
Eva's golden hair is cut short, in the style of a squire or page boy. Her young face is pretty, but often creased with worry about what lies ahead. Although focused and determined (with a fierce will of iron), Eva will often pause to stare off into the distance, as if to bend her ear to some unseen presence.

When dressed to carry out the Will of Pelor, Eva wears a well-crafted suit of Half Plate - originally made for a young Paladin of Pelor who mysteriously succumbed to a strange consumptive disease. The epaulettes of the Half Plate are engraved with images of the Sun. The chain mail beneath the enchanted steel armor plates gleams yellow in the light, as if made of gold.

She bears a heavy sword on her back with an archaic bronze hilt - a sword that seems far too large a burden for her. At her waist is a light mace with a bronze head, crafted to resemble the Sun. Strapped on her left arm is an old bronze buckler, with an archaic stylized etching of the Sun on its face.

Grasped firmly in her right hand is a plain, wooden spear... adorned with a simple pendant - a triangular orange field, decorated with a yellow circle (symbolizing the Sun). She carries this spear with its simple device like a battle standard.

Eva is a very young woman of 17 years. She stands 5'3" tall, and weighs 125 pounds.

...

Background
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Eva was born to a simple fisherman and his wife in a small fishing community near Nichols - an area that was mostly unremarkable except for the vast fields of lilies that bloomed in the meadows around the fishing village. As the only daughter amongst her family's five children, Eva was trained in the skills of her mother - learning the basics of being a seamstress to common folk, which also included the essential ability to mend her family's fishing nets.

Her early years outside of the home were mostly spent either playing in the lily fields by herself or in a small chapel to Pelor. Passers-by and other children who played in the meadows often wondered about the strange girl who danced in circles under the bright sunlight, especially when she would immediately run from the fields into the chapel to pray. "The voices," as she would say, would be her only explanation.

These voices, which Eva claimed to have come from Pelor and his attending spirits, were mostly kept known only to herself. However, the message of the voices could not be kept to herself alone. Eva began to give others small glimpses of the future that she learned from her voices. When she saved several fishermen from going out to sea one day (when a sudden and unexpected storm took the lives of many other fishermen that day), the secret of Eva's gift could no longer be contained.

Word of Eva's prophetic ability (however limited) spread quickly, but she attributed her small gift of prophecy to Pelor... which caused a stir within the local clergy. If such prophecy could be associated with Pelor, why did Pelor's own priests not know of these things? And if the girl was a charlatan who was simply guessing at future events and claiming some special gift from Pelor, it too would cast Pelor's priesthood in a negative light.

At the age of 16, Eva was brought before the local clergy in Nichols, where she revealed that she had been visited by voices and spirits from Pelor ever since she was a child. With her devout nature and many hours spent in the chapel to Pelor near her childhood home, Eva's claims could not be verified nor easily denied.

Thus Eva was sent to Geoffsonburg to see the leaders of Pelor's church in Regent Urgos' lands. And there in Geoffsonburg, Eva's voices told her that she had a special destiny to fulfill in the lost lands of Quehalost... but that she would have to take up the sword to accomplish her task of spreading Pelor's message. This she shared with the priests who questioned her.

The priests who received Eva in Geoffsonburg were, of course, unmoved by Eva's strange claims until she asked the local clergy to dig beneath a bed of lilies on the property of one of Pelor's churches... there, as guided by Eva's voices, they found an ancient sword - a symbol which supported her strange claims. Thus Eva's claims were accepted to have some level of truth, with the priests of Nichols (her home region) being the most supportive of her claims.

Though she may have won many supporters amongst the priests of Pelor in Regent Urgos' territories, the appointment of a young girl to the mission to Quehalost has caused some degree of controversy within Pelor's faith. For political reasons alone, it would be unsuitable for the priesthood to send a girl to her death on a foolish errand.

However, Eva has been equipped and her mission has been blessed by the priests of Nichols, and no matter how distasteful the worst case scenario might be for Pelor's priesthood, she is bound for Quehalost.

(* Almost all the concept is ripped off from St. Joan of Arc... if they can make movies about her (some good, some bad), then why can't she inspire a D&D character?)
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Appearance:
Brother Ray is a strikingly handsome yet unassuming man. He lacks any body hair, the only remaining sign of the fire that burned him so badly as a youth. He wears a simple robe, and walks with a staff. He is said to sometimes glow with the warmth of kindness, and always has a welcoming smile.

Background:
Phalinx Duvail was born to the prestigious Marvia and Theren Duvail, a small but wealthy noble family from the <insert town/region>. The family was wealthy, and quite public about it. Their estate was well known as one of the largest in the region, and they were famous for their flamboyant spending as much as their nobility and wealth itself. Phalinx grew up, and enjoyed his easy life. As a young boy, he had everything he could have ever asked for in toys, games, clothes, servants, and just about anything else. When he was 8, he was spoiled rotten, and few would ever think that anything good would ever come from him.

It was shortly after his 8th birthday when tragedy struck. A disgruntled servant, who had been fired for staying home to watch after his sick wife, returned and started a fire in the stables. Unfortunately, the high winds set the blaze quickly, and it caught on to the main estate. It spread fast, and soon many who worked there were caught, as well as Phalinx and his family. His parents ran to protect their wealth, leaving Phalinx to burn in his room. Sadly, Phalinx never knew, falling to the smoke easily.

Phalinx awoke in a small room, wrapped with bandages. Unsure how he had gotten there, he tried to speak, but he was too badly burned, and it hurt to move. The healers worked on him, and over the days, he learned that this was a small community devoted to Pelor. When he was able to speak, they asked him his name. Worried that they might resent him, he chose to say he didn’t remember. The man who was caring for him, Brother Bright, said his name will come to him over time, either in memory, or in deed.

The village was small, open, and near the forest. When he was well enough, he began to wander the grounds. He joined some of the classes taught by the community members, some who were monks, some who were clerics, and some were simple commoners wishing to devote their lives to Pelor. Brother Bright took him in, giving him a home, and offering him guidance when he could.

Phalinx was badly scared, and even in a kind and loving community, he drew looks of awe and pity. He was a disfigured mess, and ashamed. He rarely spoke, and began to spend much of his time in the forest, often weeping.

About a year later, he had cried himself to sleep in the forest, and was woken by a nymph. He was startled, but she held up a finger to her lips and hushed him. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you.” Her name was Aia, she explained, and she had drug him out of the fire and left him in the care of the villagers. He asked if she knew who he was, and she said only that he had been a noble. She had worried about him since he had been injured so badly, but had dared not approach till now, worried that he might be scared. He said he had to go, but promised he would return.

He spent time in his classes, but also time with Aia. He spoke with her often, and felt comfort at her presence. He was amazed at how happy she was with nothing. In fact everyone in the community had little, and was quite happy. He talked of this with Brother Bright, as well as Aia, and seeing how having everything had left him with nothing, he swore he would value nothing over life, forgo the pleasures of material goods.

He learned and spoke of Pelor with Aia, who was thankful to him for the sunlight. The sun had always felt good to him, on his burned skin, and he took to that aspect of Pelor with great joy. He studied under Brother Bright, and Aia, and took the name Brother Ray, after the rays of sun. Brother Bright taught him discipline, meditation, and mastery of his body. Aia taught him the Sylvan language, how to dance, and the arts of reading and influencing people. Brother Ray had gained a new mother and father, ones that loved him truly, and taught him to be happy.

Few understood why, but Brother Ray’s scars began to heal. All but a single mark, that of a single kiss over his heart. Ray discussed this with Brother Bright, finally revealing Aia to him. Brother Bright supposed that perhaps his time and love of the nymph had helped heal both his body and his soul. Aia was unsure, but was glad Ray was well, as he blossomed into a strong young man.

Brother Ray has been walking the world for a few years now. He wears a simple robe, carries a quarterstaff, and little else. He lives off of the land when he can, shares what little wealth comes his way, and writes often to his mother Aia, leaving notes with the fey knowing they can move them to her faster than any human messenger.

Here are the basics. Still looking for a 1st level feat - I do not have the BoED, any suggestions from that book that would work for this character?

Name:
Race: Drakontos
Class: Paladin / Sorcerer
Level: 2/2
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Alignment: LG
Deity: Pelor

Age: 80 [Appears to be a human of 20 years of age]
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 220lb
Eyes: XXX
Hair: Brown with Gold highlights
Skin: Tanned
Appearance: XXXX

Str: 14 +2 [6pts]
Dex: 10 +0 [4pts -2 Racial]
Con: 14 +2 [6pts]
Int: 12 +1 [4pts]
Wis: 12 +1 [2pts +2 Racial]
Cha: 19 +4 [10pts +2 Racial +1 Level]

BAB: +3
HP: 31 (2d10+4 + 2d4+4)
Grapple: +5
Speed: 30'
Init: +0
ACP: -0
XP: 10,000/15,000

Armour Class: 10 [Base 10 + 0 Dex]
Touch: 10
Flatfooted: 10

Fort: +9 [+3 Pal Base +0 Sor Base +2 Con +4 Divine Grace]
Ref: +4 [+0 Pal Base +0 Sor Base +0 Dex +4 Divine Grace]
Will: +8 [+0 Pal Base +3 Sor Base +1 Wis +4 Divine Grace]
+2 to Fire-based, Sleep and Paralysis saves (from Draconic Heritage)

Weapons:

Languages: Common, Auran, Draconic, Terran

Abilities:
Drakontos Racial Abilities:
-Bonus Feat: Draconic Heritage
-Bonus Skill Points
-Low Light Vision
Paladin Class Abilities:
-Aura of Good
-Detect Evil
-Smite Evil: 1/day, +4 to hit, +2 to damage
-Divine Grace
-Lay on Hands: 8 hp/day
Sorcerer Class Abilities:
-Summon Familiar
-Spells Known: 5/2
--- 0-
--- 1st-
-Spells per Day: 7/5

Feats:
1: Draconic Heritage [Gold Dragon]
1:
3: Draconic Breath [Standard Action, 30' Cone of Fire, 2d6 damage/spell level spent, DC 14 + spell level spent]

Skills
Skill Points: 28 Max Ranks: 7/3.5

+9 Concentration [7 ranks +2 Con]
+9 Diplomacy [5 ranks +4 Cha]
+8 Heal [7 ranks +1 Wis]
+3 Knowledge (arcana) [2 ranks +1 Int]
+6 Knowledge (religion) [5 ranks +1 Int]
+1 Listen [0 ranks +1 Wis]
+3 Spellcraft [2 ranks +1 Int]
+1 Spot [0 ranks +1 Wis]

Equipment:

Total Weight:XXXlb

Money:



Background:

Yavarin

Background
Yavarin was born in the Migrenhel forest of southern Barghost near Nichols. He grew up hunting in the forest and learned to be particularly stealthy. His father, Arinyul would travel and hunt in all the surrounding forests. He would often take him down into the forests of Feneress to hunt there. Arinyul was a scout for the Barghost army and would go down to Fenneress to survey their defenses against Quehalost. Arinyul intended for his son to follow in his footsteps and taught him his craft well. One day they had traveled a bit far afield and came very close to the Quehalost border. An ambush occurred and Arinyul was dragged into Quehalost by a winged monster. Yavarin chased the monster down, constantly peppering it with arrows, until he finally brought it down. His father had been ripped apart by the thing and did not survive. Yavarin was now deep in Quehalost, alone and lost. He managed to make it back with his fathers body. It was a long arduous journey that he will still not speak of. He has sworn to avenge his fathers death and has worked to fight the evil of Quehalost.

Male Elf
Scout 4
Chaotic Good
6,000 / 10,000 xp

Str 14 (+2) [6 pts]
Dex 18 (+4) [8 pts + lvl + Race]
Con 10 (+0) [4 pts - Race]
Int 16 (+3) [10 pts]
Wis 10 (+0) [2pts]
Cha 10 (+0) [2pts]

Size: Medium (5'1", 105 lbs)
HP: 26
BAB: +3
Init: +5
Move: 40'

AC: 19 (10 +5 armor + 4 dex )

Fortitude: +2
Reflex: +8
Will: +1

Attacks:
MW Longsword (+6 attack, 1d8+2 dmg or 1d8+3 2H, 19-20/x2)
Comp Mighty(+2) Longbow +1 (+8 attack, 1d8+3 (1d8+4 PBS) dmg, 20/x3)
Dagger melee (+5 attack, 1d4+2 dmg, 19-20/x2)
Dagger thrown (+7 attack, 1d4+2 dmg, 19-20/x2)

Feats:
Point Blank Shot (1st level)
Precise Shot (3rd level)
Track (Scout Bonus)

Skills (bonus/ranks):
Balance (+7/1 + Synergy)
Climb (+4/2)
Craft (Cartography) (+5/2)
Disable Device (+9/4 + MW tools)
Hide (+10/6)
Jump (+9/5 + Synergy)
Knowledge (Dungeoneering) (+4/1)
Knowledge (Geography) (+4/1)
Knowledge (Nature) (+10/5 + Synergy)
Knowledge (Religion) (+5/1 cc)
Knowledge (The Planes) (+6/2 cc)
Listen (+9/7 + Race)
Move Silently (+9/5)
Ride (+5/1)
Search (+10/5 + Race)
Sense Motive (+2/2)
Speak Languages (2, Abyssal, Infernal)
Spot (+9/7 + Race)
Survival (+7/7, +9 Outside)
Swim (+3/1)
Tumble (+11/5 + Synergy)
Use Rope (+6/2)

Languages Known:
Elven
Common
Sylvan
Gnoll
Draconic
Abyssal
Infernal

Racial Traits:
• +2 Dexterity, –2 Constitution.
• Medium: As Medium creatures, elves have no special bonuses or penalties due to their size.
• Elf base land speed is 30 feet.
• Immunity to magic sleep effects, and a +2 racial saving throw bonus against enchantment spells or effects.
• Low-Light Vision: An elf can see twice as far as a human in starlight, moonlight, torchlight, and similar conditions of poor illumination. She retains the ability to distinguish color and detail under these conditions.
• Weapon Proficiency: Elves receive the Martial Weapon Proficiency feats for the longsword, rapier, longbow (including composite longbow), and shortbow (including composite shortbow) as bonus feats.
• +2 racial bonus on Listen, Search, and Spot checks. An elf who merely passes within 5 feet of a secret or concealed door is entitled to a Search check to notice it as if she were actively looking for it.
•Favored Class: Wizard



Class Features:
Trapfinding
Uncanny Dodge
Battle Fortitude
Fast Movement
Trackless Step
Skirmish +1d6, +1AC
Simple Weapon Proficiency
Light Armor Proficiency


Equipment:
+1 Mithral Chain shirt {2,100gp}
Comp Mighty (+2) Longbow +1 {2,600 gp}
Quiver with 20 arrows {1 gp}
Quiver with 10 silver arrows and 10 cold iron arrows {3 gp}
MW Longsword {315 gp}
MW Thieves tools {100 gp}
4 daggers concealed about his body {8 gp}
Explorers Outfit {10 gp}
backpack {2 gp}
grappling hook w/ 50' of silk rope {11 gp}
Potion of Cure Light Wounds x4 {200 gp}
Ink and Quill
Parchement

45 gp 10 sp

Cassient
Silver Drakontos Male
Sorcerer 4
Alignment: Lawful Good
Deity: Pelor

10 Strength (+0)
12 Dexterity (+1)
14 Constitution (+2)
14 Intelligence (+2)
12 Wisdom (+1)
19 Charisma (+4)

Initiative: +1
Speed: 30’

Melee Attack Bonus: +3
Ranged Attack Bonus: +4 (20’ range increment)
Damage: 1d6 (MW Shortspear)
AC: 11 (+1 Dex), touch 11, flat-footed 10

Ranged Touch Attack Bonus: +3 (35’ range)
Damage: 3d8 Cold (Lesser Orb of Cold)
AC: 11 (+1 Dex), touch 11, flat-footed 10

Hit Points: 21
Fortitude Saves: +4
Reflex Saves: +3
Will Saves: +6
+2 on saves vs. sleep and paralysis effects
+2 on saves vs. cold effects

Feats:
Draconic Heritage
Consecrate Spell
Draconic Power

Abilities:
4 extra skill points at 1st level, 1 extra skill point per level thereafter
Low-light vision
Summon Familiar (Alertness, Improved Evasion, Share Spells, Empathic Link, Deliver Touch Spells, +2 Natural Armour) – no familiar currently summoned

Sorcerer Spells Known:
Level 0 Spells: (6/day, DC 14)
Detect Magic
Light
Mage Hand
Prestidigitation
Read Magic
Ray of Frost (CL 5)

Level 1 Spells: (7/day, DC 15)
Disguise Self
Lesser Orb of Cold (CL 5)
Protection from Evil

Level 2 Spells: (4/day, DC 16)
Summon Monster II

Skills:
+10 Bluff [6]+4 (Cha)
+9 Concentration [7]+2 (Con)
+7 Diplomacy [1cc]+4 (Cha; +2 synergy from bluff)
+6/+8(16/18) Disguise [2]+4 (Cha; +2 synergy from bluff when acting in character; +10 if Disguise Self is active)
+9 Knowledge (Arcana) [7]+2 (Int)
+4 Knowledge (Religion) [2cc]+2 (Int)
+11 Spellcraft [7]+4 (Int; +2 synergy from Knowledge (Arcana))

Equipment:
MW Shortspear (1d6 damage, x2 crit, 20’ range increment)
Wand of Mage Armour (50 charges)
Wand of Magic Missile (CL 3, 50 charges)
Cloak of Resistance +1
4x Potion of Cure Light Wounds
Backpack
-5x Candle
-Ink
-Inkpen
-20 sheets of paper
-50’ Silk Rope
-Signet Ring
-10x Tindertwig
-Waterskin
-498gp, 8sp, 5cp
Scroll Case
-Scroll of Alarm
-Scroll of Animate Rope
-Scroll of Comprehend Languages
-2x Scroll of Identify
-Scroll of Ventriloquism
Spell Component Pouch

Languages: Common, Draconic, Auran, Elven

Height: 5’9”
Weight: 160 lbs
Skin: White
Eyes: Icy blue
Hair: Blonde, streaked silver
Age: 78

Description:
Cassient is a lean young man of athletic build and exotic good looks. His features are boyishly handsome, his persistent stubble trying but failing to give him more of a manly air. His hair, very fine and light, hangs loose to his shoulders. At first glance it appears merely very pale blonde, but a closer inspection reveals that it is streaked through with silver. The effect is subtle, but quite striking once it is noticed. His eyes are a chill blue, the colour of the sky on a clear, cold winter day, and thick lashes make them seem larger than they are.
His clothes are practical and inexpensive, but not exactly plain. He wears baggy linen trousers of a deep purple hue, and a simple white side-buttoned top over which he also wears a faded orange sleeveless jacket. It’s almost incredible, but somehow the colour combination seems to work for him. He carries a finely crafted and ornately carved short spear strapped across his back and that, combined with his physical fitness and easy, confident gait are enough to mark him out to a casual observer as probably some kind of mercenary.

Background:
[sblock]Cassient was born in a small village named Deira, nearer to Theropa than anywhere else but basically in the middle of nowhere. He was the only child of his family, for his birth was a complicated one and his mother died a few days later despite the best ministrations of the village priest. His father Arten, stricken with grief, nonetheless did his best to raise his son as well as he knew how. Money wasn’t too much of a problem, as Arten owned the only inn in the village and made a big enough profit to keep them both very comfortably. Of course, there were other problems; Cassient was not a normal child by any stretch of the imagination. It wasn’t apparent at first – he looked just like a normal baby, and for the first few weeks he seemed to be just that. But shortly enough it became apparent that he was not aging at anything like the normal rate. Without any idea of the secrets that had lain latent in his wife’s blood, Arten had no clue why it could be that his son seemed doomed to be perpetually an infant. Yet still, Cassient was his son, and he took the best care of him he could, and did his best to ignore the gossip of the villagers as to what was wrong with the child.

While his father lived, Cassient’s strange aging patterns were the only thing to point to his strange heritage, and he just accepted growing up that there was something very different about him without ever having any idea what it was. The other children of the village avoided him, casting suspicious or even fearful glances in his direction, and of course during the course of the childhood years he spent there three whole generations of normal children grew up within the village. Of necessity then, he learned to be quite self-reliant growing up. His father was caring, if somewhat distant – and very old for most of the time covered by Cassient’s brief memories of him. Cassient’s first coherent recollections come from when he was between eighteen and nineteen, and by that time his father was already middle aged. He died when Cassient was forty-one, and just starting to move into puberty.
The village priest took care of him for the brief interval until his father’s instructions could be carried out and word taken to distant relations in Theropa. On the day of the funeral, Cassient’s second cousin once removed, a merchant by the name of Ildaren, came to Deira and took the boy back with him to the city. It didn’t occur to Cassient to think about it at the time, but he was older than his new guardian by almost ten years.

Cassient didn’t settle well into his new home. Ildaren was married, and had three children. All of them were in real terms very much younger than Cassient, of course, but as far as physical and mental development went two of them – twin boys – were slightly younger relative to Cassient, whilst the youngest of the family, a girl, was barely more than a toddler. Of course, during his stay of about twenty years with the family, all three children were to grow up and leave home whilst he himself still had not come to adulthood. For his own part, Cassient wasn’t used to living with so many other people and, particularly as he was still very much in the throes of trying to come to terms with the death of his father, it caused real problems. Ildaren’s three children were all intensively inquisitive about the newcomer, and their attentions quickly became incredibly annoying to Cassient who wanted nothing more than solitude. The first few awkward days were enough to sour relations with the two brothers. Cassient got on rather better with Elyn, the young daughter, feeling something like a protective, big-brotherly instinct towards her. The relationship was strained by the apparent reversal of their ages that seemed to occur so rapidly to Cassient, but even so they remained close.

Feeling stifled and unhappy in his foster home, Cassient spent a great deal of time exploring the streets of Theropa. It was something of a novelty to him, having never been to a city before, and despite the crowds that filled the streets he found that walking them was much like true solitude. Spending so much time walking the streets of Theropa, taking little real notice of whether he was in a ‘nice’ part of town or not at any given time, it’s perhaps not surprising that when Cassient finally did make some friends, they were entirely the wrong sort. He caught a pretty girl picking his pocket one day, and grabbed her hand as it slipped into his coin pouch. She didn’t try to run, and he stood awkwardly for a long moment, looking at her and not knowing what to do. She let him suffer for a little while before grinning easily, her bright blue eyes full of mischief, and introducing herself as Rhielle. He was stricken, and when she suggested that he should come meet some friends of hers he followed as meekly as a kitten.

That one touch of her hand was about as close as he ever got to Rhielle, despite his best efforts, but he did get to know the rest of her gang. They were all young – just kids really, emulating what they saw their elders doing in the real thieves’ guild. The Guild allowed them to run their operation independently; it was tiny, always centred around small pickings, and it also conveniently gathered together all the potential young recruits in one pool. Cassient, for his part, never did take to pick-pocketing. He was valued, though, for his ability to talk the hind legs off a donkey – and then keep it distracted while a partner ran away with them. Circumstances had meant he’d never been very talkative or sociable before, but given the opportunity and incentive he suddenly realised how naturally it came to him. In the illustrious company of that small-time gang of petty thieves, his natural force of personality blossomed and flourished. As he grew up – which he did, slowly and tortuously, soon becoming easily the oldest veteran of his little gang of thieves – he also began to develop very striking good looks. He let his hair grow long, and when he was around fifty silver streaks started to develop in it. By this time Rhielle had grown up and moved on, and Cassient’s first precipitous infatuation never bore any fruit, but there were many more over the years Cassient spent as the biggest fish in that small pond and he never again experienced any of the same frustrations in actualising his desires.

The biggest impact of this period, though, was something that happened entirely by chance. He picked a mark one afternoon, as usual, and as usual he kept him talking with a plea for directions and then a show of stupidity that lasted as long as it took for his accomplice to sneak up and cut the man’s purse strings. This time, though, it appeared that the mark was not as easy as he had appeared. He played along with Cassient’s act, but as the other boy crept up behind him he spun and with a backhand blow sent him sprawling on the cobbles. Cassient turned to run, with something of a head start, but with a sinking feeling realised that the alley he had turned down was a dead end. Terrified, and filled with adrenaline, he wished fervently that he was someone else as he backed up against the far wall of the alley. He watched in dread as the man turned the corner into the alley, and looked blankly around. His eyes settled on Cassient and he asked gruffly “you see a boy run in here?”

Dumb and uncomprehending, Cassient shook his head and the man stalked off. It was only after a few minutes of recovering himself that Cassient happened to look across at the window just next to him and see in the faint reflection that he looked like an old man.

After his initial shock, he set to trying to work out just what he had done. It took some time, but with intuitive gropings in the dark he eventually managed to perfect the trick until he could repeat it almost as often as he wanted, and make himself look like anybody he could imagine. It was mostly just a matter of visualisation and will, and then the necessary gestures and syllables to invoke the spell – which, amazed, he slowly realised it was – just came to him naturally. After that he continued to push himself, and mastered a number of minor tricks. None others as useful as that, but still the difficult experience of forging ahead and mastering his inward potential with no guidance but his own intuition was a heady one, and he was delighted with the advantage his powers gave him.

After that, Cassient began developing a distinct suspicion as to what it might be that accounted for his extraordinarily slow aging, and inwardly thrilled at the thought of the eldritch wonders to which he considered himself heir.

There was nothing in particular that told Cassient it was time to move on, but slowly he began to resent the restrictions that staying with Ildaren was putting on his freedom, slight as they were – he was an old man by this time, and had little time or energy to devote to attempting to keep a rebellious and inexplicably young distant relation in order. He also began to yearn for a change of scenery, and so around the time of his sixtieth birthday he decided he would leave. He left a hastily scribbled note of thanks and farewell for Ildaren, and before he left he paid a visit to Elyn, his ‘little’ foster-sister – now twenty-three, married, and in relative terms at least seven or eight years older than him. There was no extended leave-taking; she just embraced him, and whispered “good luck, little brother.” She had teased him with that name ever since she first realised that she surpassed him in terms of rough relative age. “Try to make some nicer friends wherever you’re going, okay?” she chuckled, and then kissed him once on the cheek and left.
He was left in shock, never having thought that any of his adoptive family had worked out the kind of company he kept, but as he started down the road the shock began to wear off and he realised how warm and unjudgemental her words had really been. He grinned fondly, and set out to see where he could get to that was far away and didn’t cost much.

He settled, in the end, for a caravan headed to Hipposus. A small display of arcane frippery had convinced the caravan master to give him a seat in one of the carriages in return for the deployment of his eldritch powers against any bandits or highwaymen who might think to raid the caravan. The fact, of course, was that Cassient had little or no actual offensive magical power, but that was inconsequential as far as he was concerned. The carriage he found himself in had four seats. Two of them were occupied by a young married couple, who kept up a stream of gossip and chatter throughout the journey but otherwise did little to commend themselves to Cassient’s memory. The last occupant of the carriage was a different matter entirely. He was a middle aged man, lean and weathered in appearance and dressed in simple peasant’s clothing. He seemed unremarkable at first, and Cassient had resigned himself to dull travelling companions and taken to staring out of the window at the passing countryside.

It was only after some time that Cassient realised the other man was studying him, quite intently and openly. He looked back, somewhat nonplussed, but said nothing. The couple occupying the other two seats of the carriage continued their incessant chatter, not apparently noticing the silent connection that was being formed between their travelling companions. Cassient and the strange man simply sat looking at each other for some time, Cassient trying unsuccessfully to gauge anything regarding the other man’s intentions or motives. It was hopeless. He simply sat there, a small smile on his face, regarding Cassient with an impassive gaze that betrayed nothing at all except for a twinkle of amusement that seemed natural and perpetual.

Finally Cassient’s discomfort grew too great, and he spoke. “My name is Cassient,” he said simply.

The other man nodded, replying “I am Khshatra”.

Cassient raised his eyebrows. The name was of no language he had ever heard before. Khshatra just gave a smile and nodded, obviously guessing his thoughts. “It’s not a name you’re likely to have come across before.” He examined Cassient a few moments longer, still smiling wryly. “You seem a little young to be the caravan’s mage.”

Cassient shrugged and smiled back, as disarmingly as he knew how. “I’m a prodigy, I suppose.”

“Or a good liar,” Khshatra replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Or both,” Cassient grinned.

The two talked together for most of the journey, and Cassient found to his surprise that they formed a bond quite quickly. It wasn’t exactly that they had anything much in common, he realised, but simply that Khshatra seemed implicitly to understand him and accept him. When Khshatra asked him to come to dinner at his home in Hipposus the next night, he enthusiastically agreed.

That night he slept in a cheap inn room, and he spent the next day exploring the city. In the evening he went to Khshatra’s house, a modest home on the outskirts of the city, where he ate a hearty meal and spent a long and pleasant evening in conversation. Over the following weeks Cassient visited Khshatra often, and they talked of many things. Cassient soon realised that Khshatra subscribed to a very different worldview than he himself. Cassient for his part had always felt a basic urge to be a good person, but it had never been very strong or well-defined. It tended to be easily overcome by distracting forces, and found no real expression in the form of religious faith or the like. Khshatra on the other hand was clearly somebody who devoted a great deal of time to the contemplation of such matters. When Cassient one day asked if he worshipped a god, Khshatra replied with a smile that he venerated Bahamut more than any other. Cassient, puzzled, tried to enquire further but got no meaningful answers as to how it was that Khshatra came to worship the Platinum Dragon.

Meanwhile, Cassient was eking out a living doing whatever odd jobs he could find, and spending whatever free time he could find chasing a young priestess of Lathander named Daena. He’d met her while carrying a message to the temple for a couple of coins, and immediately fallen for her. It was, at first, as solidly-founded on physical attraction as all his other infatuations, but slowly as he spent more time in pursuit of her he realised that he actually liked her. The realisation was something of a startling one. Before long Cassient was in a perpetual sunny daze, preoccupied with thoughts of her. He thought about her god, too, at first simply because her veneration of Pelor was an aspect of her but gradually more and more because he himself felt something of a connection with the Shining One. He seemed to represent everything Cassient admired in Daena, everything he aspired to himself and everything that inspired him.

The best testament to the skill of Khshatra as a teacher is that Cassient didn’t realise that he was being taught. As they got to know each other better, the conversations between Khshatra and Cassient became more and more obviously philosophical in nature. They would spend long evenings in Khshatra’s cosy living room, sipping wine and talking about anything and everything. All the while Khshatra would subtly test Cassient’s established views and ideas, exposing the contradictions and forcing Cassient to define his own paradigm. They talked about Cassient’s magical gifts, too, and he began to refine his own theory regarding their origin until the gradual realisation came upon him that it was no longer a theory, but a fact. He knew for certain that draconic blood flowed in his veins. He told Khshatra, who had just smiled enigmatically, holding his gaze with his own. Slowly, Cassient had realised the truth, and had begun to laugh. Khshatra laughed with him, and the two embraced.

Over the following years Cassient at last began to come into adulthood. His relationship with Khshatra – his great, great, great, great, great grandfather, he now knew – was much the same, but tinged with wonder now that Cassient had come to realise the true nature of them both. He began now to give Cassient some magical instruction, showing him what infinite potential he truly possessed and helping him to take his first tentative steps towards realising it. He taught him the Draconic language, as well as Auran. Cassient learned quickly. In the process that he had come to know so well, Daena slowly began to outgrow him, and though the two remained friends she moved steadily away from her romantic attachment to him. They did still see each other, though, and Daena sensed his growing power and self-knowledge and was glad for him.

When he received the summons from Glammerdell, his first thought was simple elation and excitement. His second was that Daena must have had her hand in it. In any case, he views the task ahead of him with unbounded optimism. He realises that it is likely to be the hardest thing he has ever done, by orders of magnitude, yet he welcomes that. He sees it fundamentally as a test of everything he has learned and all the inner strength he has developed, as well as a chance to truly make a positive impact on the world. He is naïve, certainly, and on some level he recognises that; but it does little to diminish his enthusiasm for now.[/sblock]

Unfinished Character...

Kiera Solstrom
Neutral Good Human Cleric 4

Age: 19
Gender: Female
Height: 5 ft. 6 inches
Weight: 128 lbs.
Eyes: Golden
Hair: Golden
Skin: Deeply Tanned

STR: 10 [--] (2 points)
DEX: 10 [--] (2 points)
CON: 13 [+1] (5 points)
INT: 12 [+1] (4 points)
WIS: 18 [+4] (13 points, +1 level)
CHA: 14 [+2] (6 points)

Hit Dice: 4d8 + 4
HP: 30
Armor Class: 10 (10 base + 0 Dex + X Armor)
Initiative: +0
BAB: +3
- Melee: +3
- Ranged: +3

Speed: 30’

FORT: +5 (4 Base + 1 Con)
REFL: +1 (1 Base + 0 Dex)
WILL: +8 (4 Base + 4 Wis)

Abilities:
- Bonus Feat
- Bonus Skill Points
- Spontaneous Cure Spells
- Channel Positive Energy
- Turn Undead 7/day
- Sun Domain (greater turning, 1/day)
- Glory Domain (+2 on turning checks, +1d6 on turning damage)
- Aura of Good

Feats:
1st Level
- Disciple of the Sun (human bonus)
- Extra Turning
3rd Level
- Augment Healing

Skills: 29sp
Knowledge (religion) +8 (7 ranks, +1 Int)
Heal +13 (7 ranks, +4 Wis)
Concentration +8 (7 ranks, +1 Con)
Spellcraft +5 (4 ranks, +1 Int)
Profession (Herbalist) +7 (3 ranks, +4 Wis)


Languages:
- Common, Celestial

Spellcasting:
Caster Level: X
Save DC: 10 + # Att + Level
Spells Commonly Prepared:
Oth level – (5) Purify Food & Drink, Create Water, Detect Magic, Mending, Light
1st level – (4+d) Nimbus of Light, Bless, Hide from Undead, Protection from Evil, Disrupt Undead (d)
2nd level – (3+d) Elation, Hold Person, Lesser Restoration, Bless Weapon (d)

Equipment:
Armor & Shield
- +1 Banded Mail (+7 AC, Max Dex 1, ACP –5, 35% ASF) This suit of banded mail is etched with scripture. (1400gp, 35lb)
- Darkwood Heavy Shield w/Silver Holy Symbol (+2 AC, ACP –0, 15% ASF) This almost black shield is made of darkwood and the holy symbol of Pelor is emblazoned across it’s front. (282gp, 5lb)

Melee weapons
- Masterwork Silvered Light Mace +3 (1d6-1, 20/x2) The head of this light mace is formed in the shape of a blazing sun it’s surface embossed with silver. The sun glows with light. (Everburning Torch) (505gp, 4lb)
- Dagger +3 (1d4, 19-20/x2) (2gp, 1lb)

Ranged weapons
- Light Crossbow +3 (1d8, 19-20/x2, 80 ft.) (35gp, 4lb)

Miscellaneous Magical or Psionic Items
-Vestment of Resistance +1 (1000gp, 1lb)

Wands, Staffs or Dorjes
-Wand of Lesser Vigor (50/50chg) (750gp, 1oz)
-Wand of Magic Weapon (50/50chg) (750gp, 1oz)
-Wand of Protection from Evil (40/50chg) (575gp, 1oz)

Mundane equipment
-Adventurer’s Outfit (gp, -lb)
-Backpack (2gp, 2lb)
-Bolts (case of 10) (1gp, 1lb)
-Bedroll (1sp, 5lb)
-Trail Rations, 2 (1gp, 2lb)
-Waterskin (1gp, 4lb)

Weight Carried: 64lb
Remaining money: 45gp 9sp

Appearance: With deeply tanned skin, Kiera's radiant golden hair and burning golden eyes echo the sun with which she is so closely attuned. When relaxing she often wears a simple and slightly revealing dress of mahogany, however her travels rarely allow time for such simple pleasures. Often wearing a suit of gilded full plate emblazoned with a blazing sun (literally) or a more functional explorers outfit, she carries with her only what she needs. A studded mace of tarnished silver rests at her hip, worn from an age of use.

Personality: Kiera is forceful in her presence, demanding a great deal of herself, and knowing that often others will rarely meet the demands she would place on herself. She is deeply spiritual, waking early to meet the morning rays as they spread across the land. Her voice is often soft-spoken, reserved and left only for the moments when it is most needed, however it can quickly raise from a kind reminder to a waking explosion. Her one vice is that she can be too mothering of others, reminding them against unwise courses of action, as well as deciding affairs for others without always consulting them. She feels that sharp lessons are sometimes appropriate when they can teach and correct. Additionally, her trust in wizards and sorcerers to think of others before themselves is lacking, and so she can be quite grating in their company, and she has no patience for those who dabble in the darker sides of necromantic magic.

Background: Kiera grew up in a small farming village far to the south. Her parents were both farmers, however the felt that their child would indeed be more than her meager beginnings. For this reason they pursued the villages wise woman to teach her the ways of healing, as well as tending to the affairs of the people. Till she was ten Kiera grew up under the tutelage of the wise woman, learning quiet restraint and discipline, however she found that the affairs of the village kept the wise woman from pursuing other affairs she would prefer, finding her responsibility too important to abandon.

Her education under the wise woman would have continued until her sixteenth birthday if a war had not broken out in the lands of the south. Powerful wizards had come to terms and soon great armies rolled across the land, fighting and razing towns. The people began to feel the toll, crops were dying, refugees were rampant throughout the surviving towns. When one of the wizards had suffered a great defeat, the people hoped for the war to end, but the wizard sought darker means to retaliate and created legions of undead from his fallen soldiers. The undead soldiers spared no mercy in their retaliation, slaughtering any before them. When they fell upon the small farming village the farmers were too panicked to get away or mount any sort of feeble defense.

Burned into her memory is the image of her parents forcing her into the cupboard as they came, and she remembers the horrible screams of her parents and her older brother as the undead soldiers entered her home. She can still feel the cold that numbed her fingers and taste the acrid stench of death they brought with them. As the deathless slew those close to her she screamed, and they turned upon the unassuming cupboard and drew near. She heard their claws scratch at the boards, her breathing slowed and she felt the warmth of the sun well up inside of her. Her vision was full of light and she slipped into unconsciousness. When she awoke she lay in a field far outside of her village, a single ray of sunlight beating down upon her. Clouds of choking smoke rose up around the ray of light but did not obscure it.

She rose slowly to a sitting position and gazed out in the direction of her village, but all she saw was that acrid smoke and all she felt was sorrow.

She walked for days until she came upon another town, one more pile of smoking memories and horrible ashes. A older man sat in the center of the town, weeping sadly. He was clad in the white and gold robes of a priest and a golden sun hung from his neck. As she approached, her clothes tattered and scarred by fire, her face by unspeakable things, he rose his head and looked to her, his grip on a studded mace of tarnished silver loosened and it clattered to the ground. With a joyous cry he wrapped her in a hug and rose his head to the sky, for the clouds of smoke had split as she passed, a ray of sunshine lit her golden hair like a halo.

The old priests name was Nitan Orao, a devoted servant of Pelor, he had come to the village too late, his powers had returned many of the undead to their former rest, but the villagers were already dead. In every town he had been too late and found no one, until he found Kiera. A sign from Pelor himself he said, a blessing he said, a miracle. He brought up the young Kiera as he traveled, raised her as the daughter he had lost to disease before he joined the priesthood. Upon the priests deathbed, his last wish brought her into the fold of the priesthood proper. She was seventeen. Two years have passed and she has seen a great deal, traveling like the old priest once did, a wandering light in the darkness.

DM Addendum:
It turns out that Nitan Orao was an agent of the Adversari Mortuum (a group that will be described in the World Info thread shortly, I hope!). The words Adversari Mortuum literally means "To be against the dead." This is a collection of agents who quite intentionally train and travel the land in an attempt to quell uprisings of undead.

Nitan Orao belonged to this group and while he traveled the borders of Quehalost trying to push back the undead evils that exist there, his home was in Barghost. (The region all the characters ultiamtely come from as requested in the OOC thread). Nitan Orao brought Kiera to his home in Barghost, where her training commenced. Once she became a resident of Barghost and matured a few years, her progress was noted by the church and ultimately she became chosen for this group to go into Quehalost and strike out at the evil that exists.

Kiera has been invited into the Adversari Mortuum, however she does not believe she is ready for such an honor to be bestowed upon her and has deferred entrance until she believes she has proven herself. She thought she was only offered the position due to Nitan Orao's beneficience, as there is mumbling of her being too young for the position.

Cleric of Pelor

Undead bane

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Name: Affik Anande de Andrade
Race: Human
Player: Neurotic
Class: Cleric4
Hit points (assumed max for first level) (1d8+1=7, 1d8+1=4, 1d8+1=4)
Experience: 6000 / 10000
Alignment: Neutral Good
Speed: Walk 30' (30' in armor)
Languages: Common, Ancient, Evil

------------------------ Description -----------------------
Height: 5' 6" Weight: 168 lbs. Gender: Male
Eyes: Dark Hair: Black (shaved) Skin: Dark tanned
Quirks: Strange eyes, Shy
Speech style: Enunciates very clearly
Quotable: Yield to your fate !
Where the Light penetrates, the Dark cannot abide.


[sblock=Stats]
Stat Score Mod
STR 12 (+1) 4pts
DEX 12 (+1) 4pts
CON 12 (+1) 4pts
INT 10 (+0) 2pt
WIS 16 (+3) 10pts
CHA 16 (+3) 8pts (+1@4th)
---------------------------
Total +8 32pts
[/sblock]

[sblock=Combat stats]
AC: 10 + 4(chain shirt) +2 (large shield) +1 (DEX)
Total / Touch / Flat Footed
AC: 19 / 13 / 16

Initiative: +3

BAB: +3
Melee: +4
Ranged: +4

Fortitude: +4+1 = 5
Reflex: +1+1 = 2
Will: +4+3 = 7
[/sblock]


[sblock=Feats]

Extra Turning (+4 turns per day)
Radiant Fire (Initiate, Pelor) (+2 insight damage vs. evil, several spells)
Reach Spell (touch spells becomes ray 30')



Armor Proficiency (Heavy), Simple weapons, Shield Proficiency
the armor check penalty applies to:
Balance, Climb, Escape Artist, Hide, Jump,
Move Silently, Pick Pocket, and Tumble checks.
[/sblock]



[sblock=Turn Undead]
Affik Anande de Andrade can Turn/Rebuke undead 10 times per day.
Turning check: 1d20 +3(CHA) +2(Glory) +2 (Religion)= 1d20 +7
Turning damage: 2d6 +3(CHA) +4(level) +1d6 (Glory) = 3d6 +7

Code:

Turning ResultsCheck Max HDResult
Affected
>0 1
1 - 3 2
4 - 6 3
7 - 9 4
10 - 12 5
13 - 15 6
16 - 18 7
19 - 21 8
22 + 9
[/sblock]




[sblock=Combat]

Unarmed attack:
to hit: +4
damage: 1d3+1
critical: 20/x2

Crossbow (Light/Masterwork):
Attack: +4
Damage: 1d8
critical: 19-20/x2
Range: 80 ft.

Morningstar (Masterwork, silver, cold iron):
Attack: +4
Damage: 1d8+1
Critical: 20/x2
[/sblock]



[sblock=Equipment]
Name QTY LBS Cost
Outfit (Traveler's) 1 5 lbs 0
Mithril Chain Shirt 1 10lbs 1100
Shield (Heavy/Masterworkl) 1 15 lbs 170
Morningstar 1 6 lbs 300 (MW) + 90(Ag) + 16 (8 x2
cold iron + 1000 (crystal) = 1406
(Masterwork, silver, cold iron, least crystal of fiend slaying)
Crossbow (Light/Masterwork) 1 4 lbs 335
Bolts (Crossbow/50) 1 5 lbs 5

Wand of healing (light) 1 0 lbs 750
Everburning torch 1 1 lbs 90
Sunrod 2 1 lbs 5
Neclace of blessings 1 0 lbs 500
Life Gems 9 0 lbs 900

Scroll (Divine Favor) 1 0 lbs 25
Scroll (Endure Elements/Divine) 1 0 lbs 25
Scroll (Magic Weapon/Divine) 2 0 lbs 50

Small altar (spruce) 1 5 lbs 20

Vials of Holy Water 10 1 lbs 0
Vials of Chaotic Water 0
Vials of Axiomatic Water 0
Vampire slaying kit 1 5 lbs 10Wooden Stake
Garlic
Holy Waffers
Two small mirrors
Wolfsbane

Small vial of phosphorus in oil


Total money: 5551/5400
Total weight caried: 56lbs

Current load: Light

Encumbrance
Light: 58
Medium: 116
Heavy: 175
[/sblock]



[sblock=Spells]

Undead hunting

Level 0
Create Water(Conjuration), Detect Magic(Divination) x2, Resistance(Abjuration) x2

Level 1
Bless Water(Transmutation), Detect Undead(Divination), Disrupt Undead(Necromancy), Hide from Undead(Abjuration), Purge Inner Darkness(Evocation)

Level 2
Bless Weapon(Transmutation), Consecrate(Evocation), Lesser Restoration(Conjuration), Spiritual Weapon(Evocation)




Normal

Level 0
Detect Magic(Divination) x2, Light(Evocation), Mending(Transmutation), Purify Food and Drink(Transmutation)

Level 1
Command(Enchantment), Comprehend Languages(Divination), Detect Evil(Divination), Endure Elements(Abjuration), Obscuring Mist (Conjuration)

Level 2
Augury(Divination), Heat Metal(Transmutation), Zone of Truth(Enchantment)




Combat

Level 0
Detect Magic(Divination) x2, Guidance(Divination), Resistance(Abjuration), Startle(Necromancy)

Level 1
Divine Favor(Evocation), Endure Elements(Abjuration), Magic Weapon(Transmutation), Sanctuary(Abjuration), Shield of Faith (Abjuration)

Level 2
Bear's Endurance(Transmutation), Bless Weapon(Transmutation), Bull's Strength(Transmutation), Remove Paralysis(Conjuration)
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[sblock=Description]

This bald shaven, wiry man quietly looks around and then seats himself somewhat appart from the crowd. If anybody tries to approach strangely intensive black eyes fixate him until he leaves. Skin would be tanned if not for strange grayish undertones as if he just recovered from some deadly disease. Mark of the Sun can be seen prominently on his forehead. On the neck, just under hair line for those observant enough, there is faint red mark.

His clothes are gray red-rimmed with fire-like pattern. There is triangular signet ring on his left hand. Shield with emblazoned sun leans on the wall, morningstar with two-colored spikes near at hand. By occasional glint and soft clinking under the robes, one could surmise existance of some kind of armor.






Background

Affik Anande de Andrade was born as Affik Anande, poor gipsy traveling around in his family cart with his parent and truppe. One fatal week they were at de Andrade estate providing some entertainment to villagers over the day and to lords of estate in the evenings.

They were awoken one night by the screams and crying. Several guards and servants ran around confused as to what was happening until one after another started attacking each other. This continued for some time afflicting several gypsies too. Some time after it started from the castle emerged several feral figures that hunted down those still standing around or running from the castle. Affik's parents tucked him into their cart and ran away to draw attention to themselves and were promtly killed in front of terrified child's eyes by having their throats bitten open and their life blood drained by the hunters.

Finaly, regal figure in midnight blue robes with fire motiffs and red symbol in front strode out of the gate carrying limp body of a child. Scanning the scene in front if the gate, figure purposefuly strode toward Affik's cart. As it neared it became clear it's a unearthly handsome man with pale complexion. He called to Affik and unaware that he obeyed until he was outside Affik came.

Dropping dead child in front of him he spoke:
"Ovo je osveta za ono što sam postao zahvaljujući svom pretku. De Andradi su zaboravili prokletstvo svoje obitelji i imali više od jednog djeteta kako bi nastavili lozu. Umjesto da mi dopuste da uzmem dijete odlučili su satrti lozu. Neka tako bude. Nijedan de Andrade neće živjeti ako ja, Fyrrlan Redspike de Andrade saznam za njega!"

Words were unfamiliar to Affik, but their meaning clear in his mind.

It seems that lords knew something was coming for them as they killed they own children and then themselves seconds before this creature came.

Then he bit into Affik's neck and drank bringing him to the brink of death. Whole affair lasted for the night. Nobody survived the event. Affik was brought within the castle over the day and he woke weak and helpless later during the day. After sunset he witnessed raising of his parents and other that perished that night and their feeding upon helpless villagers that were kept alive for this purpose. After everyone but Affik were dead whole entourage dissapeared into the night toward Sarath border, leaving Affik with de Andrade's body, words of the message forever etched into his mind.

Affik felt strangely dettached from whole affair. There was no crying, no pain, no joy, no nothing.

In the morning he carried the boy's body outside to provisionaly burry it and headed toward nearest town. As the sun hit him he felt pain as never before, cleansing rays cleaning, burning away corruption left by the touch of the vampires. He collapsed and when he woke, saddness from the loss and thoughts of revenge were raging inferno within him. Soon it died down and left Affik feeling empty again.

Affik decided to bury him somewhat to the side and hidden from view, he took boys signet ring and assumed the identity of Affik Anande de Andrade. Knowing that sooner or later, vampire that slew his truppe will hear about him and hopefuly come to claim him.

He came into the temple of the Sun as an orphan willing to learn, to embrace the light that was taken from his life. The catastrophy was soon discovered and the bodies of the slain blessed and burned and castle abandoned as cursed.

Affik was left somewhat gray of skin, some of his earlier memories and skills deleted from his memory by life draining touch of a vampire replaced by the words and image of slaughter and Fyrrlan Redspike, being he realized later was an elder vampire.

The words echoed in his mind now translated in Common as he learned the language of his nemesis:

"This is the revenge for what I became thanks to their ancestor. De Andrades forgot the curse of their family and had more then one child to carry on the line. Instead of letting me have the extra child they decided to end the line here and now. Let it be so. Let it be known that no de Andrade will live if I, Fyrrlan Redspike de Andrade know about him!"


Affik is now humorless young man fully immersed in the power of Pelor, his inborn goodness and free spirit subdued but preserved. He only feels really alive channeling divine power of his patron and destroying abbominations that walk this earth beyond grave or beyong reality's weil. Occasionaly, he still suffers from nightmares. Sight of blood always send his blood racing and he suppresses vile urge to drink it. Sometimes, small insect or spider gets caught and eaten before Affik is aware of what is happening. He feels uncomfortable (if not outright afraid) in the darkness and always has some light source at his side.

The experience left him grayish of skin, but with unswerving focus that radiates as fiery confidence from the core of his being. Given the chance to patrol the borders he jumped at it as it put him closer to his target. Mentioning his full name in public whenever he gets the chance he hopes that some day Fyrrlan will come for him.
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