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  #1  
Old Apr 26th, 2022, 09:05 PM
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Legionaries

Character CreationClass: You'll be starting at level 3 (most classes should work, ask me if you’re unsure how to make something work I’m typically lenient with that sort of thing)
Acceptable Races: Human would be best. However you could choose a less common humanoid race (like elves, dwarves, etc.). If you choose to do this, most people outside of the Shadow Legion will not be able to perceive your true nature and will instead see you as an odd sort of human (unless you really start to push the issue at which point you may have some trouble. tbh a Carthaginian dwarf or Gaulish elf would be pretty cool if you can write it well.)
Traits: One trait is good. If you want two you can, but you will have to take a flaw.
Description: Keep this simple and within a few sentences
Personality: Keep this simple and within a few sentences
Background: This being a pretty historical setting (I've included the date and all historical events are as normal) you have a lot of freedom and glorious glorious irl lore to work with. Again, history has not really changed, the legion's existence and your actions in the world are never something so public you'll get a triumph in Rome for them.
Alignment: As long as you can convince me your character will be able to perform their duty and work in a team for the Shadow Legion, any alignment is on the table. I personally am not a massive fan of the alignment system as it seems like a shorthand for characterization, but I understand its utility as such.
Starting Money: 3,000 gp
Ability Scores: 25 point buy
Hit Points: Full at 1st, then rolled
Don't forget to link sheet!
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  #2  
Old Apr 28th, 2022, 12:10 AM
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TamaraName: Tamara bat Avital

Alignment: CG

Class: Unchained Rogue (Knife Master)

Race: Human

Traits: Blade of the Society (Sicarii)

[b]Description: Tamara is small woman with long curly brown hair, freckles, and olive skin. She dresses in the fashion of a man, in lieu of the longer robes and head coverings typical of Jewish women of the time. About her waist she wears two sicae, which were specialized curved daggers made especially to fight shield bearing enemies. Aside from that, she hardly looks like what you'd expect a legionaire to look like, and perhaps that's the point.

 


Personality: Tamara is a woman who is firm in her convictions. Once she has set her mind to something, it would have to take a force of nature to deter her from acomplishing what she sought to do. She often felt the need to watch over her fellow auxillia and made sure they were being treated well, and if not spoke out to make sure they got what they were owed. Naturally, what she believes somone is owed often is at odds with that the Centurion thinks someone is owed, and she has taken many a lashings.

Background: Tamara was born AD 65 in the city of Jerusalem in the Roman province of Judaea. The rising tensions between local Jews and the invader Romans came to a head in AD 66, which lead to all out war between the Peoples. Her father, Avital, was a member of the Jewish Zealot group known as the Sicarii, who acted as assassins and rebels. They would assassinate Roman officals and officers in broad daylight, then slip back into the crowds. Tamara's father would often be gone for long stints of time, as his rebel duties kept him ever busy, but while at home he'd impart his beliefs on his only daughter that "Adonai, and Him alone is the only just ruler of Men."

Then, the war had come to their home in earnest. AD 70 marked the seige of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Second Temple. Her whole life was upturned, her freinds and family killed... save for her father. Her father took her and fled the city, along with the other Sicarii rebels. For three years she traveled in secret with her father and the rebels living rough. Eventually, Tamara and her father came to the mountain citadel of Masada. She was 8 years old when the Romans once more sieged her home, this time things were different. The Sicarii leadership decided that instead of allowing themselves to be captured and enslaved by the Romans they would take their own lives and die free. However, the women and children were left to flee. Tamara was crushed by the horrific sight and did her best to flee off the plateu, but the Romans had it entirely surrounded. She and many other women were taken as slaves, and carted off to stranger parts of the world.

For 10 years she was the slave of a Roman Equite by the name of Euclid Varus. Stranger still, the man who owned her... treated her well? Like his own daughter at times. She was kept in fine clothes, well fed, and even educated in the Greek classics. Along with her typical education from her Master, the young woman also was taught to fight. She chose the style of the Sicarii, fighting in the shadows with the short blades as homage to her late father. All this care and attention towards her felt like a hot iron being twisted in her heart, for her father and her ancestors had been oppressed and fought the Romans, and here she was the "daughter" of one. Eventually, Euclid Varus died and in his will made the following decrees: 1) Tamara bat-Avital is to be freed, and 2) The estates and money of Euclid Varus was to be held in trust until the time in which Tamara bat-Avital gains Roman Citizenship.

It was a painful decission for her, as she KNEW that there was nothing left for her in Judaea. So deciding to survive, despite her heritage, Tamara enlisted in the Auxiliary. 25 years of service she pledged, to ensure the inheritance her Master left her. 25 years of working with the enemy of her people, the ones who invaded the Holy Land and destroyed the Second Temple.

Tamara is now a 32 year old woman, who has 14 years service in the Roman military. She distinguished herself as a scout and skirmisher. It was on the recomondation of her Primus Pilus of her former unit that she should be transferred to the 999th Legion. She has not seen anything supernatural before, but despite that, she is an excellent soldier.


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Mythweavers Link to Character WIP

Tamara bat-Avital

Last edited by OsmundCinderholt; Apr 29th, 2022 at 01:19 AM.
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  #3  
Old Apr 28th, 2022, 02:40 AM
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Application: Sylvia RingviirName:Sylvia Ringviir, Commonly goes by Sylva or Prima Rinvia to follow roman naming conventions, and Erling the cat
Allignment: True Neutral
Class: Druid (Nature's Fang)
Race: Aasimar
Traits Agent of Chance
Appearance:
right-aligned image
Sylvia's life hasn't been easy and it shows on her figure. The woman is tall and has an atlethic build. her skin is stretched taut over muscle that'd make many a soldier jealous. While the original white colouration is still there in places, the mediteranean sun has bronzed most of the exposed skin. Somehow she manages to avoid most of the burning that'd affect her people in these climates. What she cannot avoid is the new local pests. Mosquitos have it out for her, there's always some bite marks on her body. She's stopped swiping at the pests and instead tends to pay snake oil merchants for some repellant oils, leaving the woman smelling like a fruit salad at nearly all times.

For anyone not wanting to snif her to recognise her: Sylvia's face can be identified from some uncommon, typically northern features: The woman has long straight blond hair, part of which is braided. In length it reaches to just past her shoulders. Her eyes also tend to be an uncommon sight, with azure irises adorning her cat like eyes. They sit on either side of a hawkish nose and lounge beneath slightly darker and thicker eyebrows than most would consider beautiful. Similarly her lips tend to be a bit thicker than most roman men would like. Far from ugly, she has a sort of uncommon beauty. The kind that entices someone to ask about where you're from.

Other things to note are Sylvia's choice of dress, she's a proud hunter and often finds a way to include an animal skin into her outfit, often in the form of a cloak or fur skirt. She tries to combat the heat by exposing parts of her skin, often seen with exposed arms, belly and upper legs invoking a savage, barbarian like appearance.

And ofcourse there's the inseperable appearance of her overlarge Lynx. The beast looks unmistakably like a cat, but with the size one might compare to a small horse. It has spotted fur, with colours ranging from grey to black and a slightly striped pattern on her head. It differentiates itself from an overlarge domestic cat by its rather large size, even larger paws and characteristic tufts of fur from the ends of her ears.

Personality: Being a stranger in a strange land Sylvia tends to get a lot of strange looks from people as she stumbles around like an exotic animal. It's only natural then that she'd chose to work for the 999th legion, a place where exotic northerners like her aren't something that draws a lot of attention (and those who pay too much attention to her tend to die before they can ask enough stupid questions). She'll chose to stray away from the center of attentio for the most part, but more out of preference than shyness. Exceptions can be made depending on the context however. Sylvia very much knows her strengths and tends to take initiative when she's confident she can perform in whatever task is at hand, but she'll also command others to step up when she sees an oppertunity.

Beyond showing whenever she's good at something, Sylvia also enjoys telling stories about whenever she's done something fantastially. Anyone who's listened to her often enough will soon start to see a common theme between her stories: She can be very creative in problemsolving. When asked she'll say that she's learned from the gods, though she tends to be reluctant in actually sharing any of their myths. She's religious to the point of daily rituals to her strange outlandish, pagan gods and will say their names whenever relevant but rarely ever really shares myths to nonbelievers. That said she's open to hearing about these strange roman gods.

Her reasons for joining the Shadow Legion aren't solely confined to avoiding strange looks. It's more of a consequence of a compromise between all her driving principles. For one: Sylvia has a wanderlust that'd leave people wondering if she's bewitched. Part of her hates this about her, as it keeps her from fostering fulfilling relationships with most people who don't share the same drive. Beyond this she also keeps hoping to improve on herself as a person, both by learning new practical skills as well as forging her body into a stronger, fitter state. These traits alone would see her through a carreer as a profesional soldier and quite a good one at that. But deep down her sense of pride moreso than morality leads her to be uncomfortable just settling some "faraway, coin-faced, born-rich, monarch who's never known more problems than what gold leaf to wipe his arse with".

Background: Sylvia came from a small town much to the north of the roman empire in the region now called norway. From the day she was born her role in the village was set. Born the daughter of their shaman she would in time replace her mother to lead their community's religious gatherings and ceremonies. But that was still years away and the winds of change are unrelenting and unpredictable. Before any of those unforseen influences made themselves known Sylvia was a child like any other. She made friends easily, helped out around the household and paid attention to her mother's teachings. Mostly she enjoyed playing in the forests with her friends though. She was always one of the quicker ones up the tree and first to find a stream to drink from. And as such it was her who first spotted the nest of Lynx cubs laying beneath their dying mother.

As any ill advised five year old do she tried to pet one. The mother hissed in that way that angry cats tend to do as young girls ignore them. The cat bit Sylvia's hand, but not hard enough. Sylvia cried out, her friends came and found the animal, weak and wounded and angry at their friend. Despite the shaman's daughter echoing her mother's words to let it live, her friends had already started to kick at the animal. They stopped quickly and went to find it some fish to nurse the mother back to health. By the time the group returned the mother had perished, and they left the fish for the cubs. It soon became a ritual to check on the cubs. As they grew up, the cubs started to follow Sylvia and her friends back into town. Given that Sylvia was responsible for leaving sacrifices to the gods it soon became her task to feed the cats.

In a small village there's a limit to how many secrets you can keep and soon enough Sylvia's litter became public knowledge. Her mother didn't mind too much, it was as good a way to learn responsibility as any, and they seemed tame enough to be safe. Ïn fact the wisewoman hoped that the kittens were the thing to dampen Sylvia's wanderlust. And while they did at least keep her around the village they ultimately proved insufficient in keeping her there forever.

Time passed and Sylvia learned more about her people's rites, rituals and religion but she never quite cared enough for it to fill the rest of her life with it. Despite boredom and yearning for a wider world she remained in the village because her cats and her people both needed her to. Eventually her litter matured and split up more and more, one of them remained with her and perhaps grew a bit fatter than it was meant to. It was around this time that the gods decided to give Sylvia something to distract her. A ship came carrying men wrapped in colourful fabrics. They came from the south and offered exotic fruits, sweets, spices, dyes and all kinds of luxury things. Sylvia couldn't afford anything on offer, but adventure was free and there was one less thing keeping her home.

The young woman was missing on the day the traders left again. And on that day the traders found a pair of stowaways on their ship. In her haste to leave her homeland, she make a proper sacrifice to the gods and was punished for it. Sylvia offered to work to earn her stay on the trip. The romans decided that slavery was better compensation. Whether it was out of cruelty, benevolence or a mixture of the two, Sylvia's gods decided against slavery. Once loose on the waves the boat and it's occupants were at the mercy of the winds.

Sylvia survived, as she always tends to do, though her self-rescue certainly wasn't spectacular. She found herself knocked unconscious on a rocky beach: sick, hungry and dirt poor. The only thing remaining of her life before she left her homeland was the cat that she'd dragged along. It sought her out and woke her up as she was about to give up on wandering. And so they walked on. It didn't take Sylvia long to work out she was nowhere near home. She spent hours praying for her gods to bring her home, find her food and keep her safe. She soon snared a hare and strung it up against a tree alive before murdering it sacrifice. She baked it's corpse over a fire and followed the way the smoke would flow.

Over time she would recognise less and less of the animals lurking in these woods. She found herself looking for more and more signs of her gods to follow the path home. Each stranger than the last. The woman was losing faith in her gods when her lynx got sick. She tore open her waterskin and to allow her cat to drink. For hours she'd pray as she walked back and forth between a quiet creek and her shivering patient. On her return she found a dead cub and the mother trying to clean it. Sylvia yelled and the cat continued birthing. Another dead and she kept praying. Her faith was starting to leave her when the third cub died at birth but the next lived, barely. The mother was about to eat that one too, but Sylvia wrenched it from her jaws and managed to save it.

Two days later she found a village with people in strange clothes who spoke strange tongues, but despite her best attempts at pantomime she couldn't convince them to buy some milk. Instead she took it at night to feed her cub. She settled down and started to borrow an axe and cut trees for money, not much language skills needed for that. Over the course of a year she'd learn some crude roman which she used to learn more when spring came along and her wanderlust took her away again. She joined some soldiers, working as a sellsword and a scout but it didn't take long for the woman to start to want more. The norsewoman made friends, more out of neccesity than out of preference and fought whenever her new king meant for them to. It was the closest she's ever been to having a family since leaving her motherland, but didn't quite calm her. The wars felt meaningless, she didn't care for this new king, nor did she care for the people that'd invade these lands that weren't her. But she recognised that she was getting paid and that this way at least she could keep exploring new places.

She managed to survive for slightly over a year and a half by the time the group got orders to lend assistance to the 999th legion on the gaulish shore. Being a talented scout, Sylvia was first to see the monstrous fomorian host and warn her army. Her friends laughed at the descriptions of the enemy but listened to her urging to meet up with the 999th before attacking overconfidently. That night, Sylvia lit her fires and prayed as she always did these days. But the enemy saw the light. In the middle of the night the enemy attacked. Less than half of her regiment survived the attack long enough for the 999th to join the fray. Sylvia would've been among the fallen if it weren't for her cats, the elder of her lynxes interposed herself between her master and a fomorian spear. The oaf of a giant saw fit to taunt the unarmed Sylvia with the new kill. He overlooked the older lynx though, the cat struck at the nape of the giant's neck sending it stumbling forward and distracting it while Sylvia picked up the man's spear and stabbed it through the chest. That night the twosome sacrificed enough fomorians to whatever gods listened to grant Sylvia's lynx entry to all afterlives. Come morning she was talking to her military friends, and still they laughed at her account of the enemy. She grew frustrated with their blindness, and asked one of the soldiers of the shadow legion for an explanation. That day she was recruited. Sylvia preferred this placement, instead of defending the lands and honor of some king who'd done nothing to earn her loyalty, praise or blood she'd be defending all of midgard. It was almost home.
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Last edited by Sirviantis; Aug 10th, 2022 at 04:18 PM.
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  #4  
Old Apr 28th, 2022, 06:57 AM
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Name: Bois D'arc https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=90815
Class: Zen Archer
Race: Human (from Gaullia Belgica)
Description: Bois stands a little under six foot tall, thin and lanky. Whipcord sharp is a word often used for the man. Rode hard and put away wet would also frequently suffice as a description. A sharp, thin nose sits just off center of a thin featured face, the result of a too slow dodge from an angered fist, early in his life. He still smiles a crooked smile due to a scar on his cheek, and his smile is a frequently seen feature. Most describe his grey eyes as "kind", although that may be an affectation, given his background and service. His hair, long enough to reach his waist, is brown but streaked with grey, and almost always worn in a long braid. His skin is tan, due to his traveling life, and somewhat hard and leathery from the constant exposure to sun and wind in the wilds.
Personality: Bois is typically thoughtful and patient in words and deeds, as befits a man of knowledge. He is slow to anger, as anger tends to cause mistakes, and mistakes lead one to being hurt. While the archer doesn't shy from pain, he's not eager to experience more than necessary either. He has a wicked sense of humor, however, he hides it well and reserves displays of it to only those he trusts. He has a code of professional and personal conduct he abides by, to protect those who need protection. He is a mercenary, essentially, by choice and skill; it is a profession for him, not a last resort. He takes pride in doing a job, and doing it well and good, as a member of the Roman Auxiliaries. Unlike many in service with him, Bois can actually read and cypher, a little.
Background: Bois has spent the first fifteen years of his life in the Temple of Diana, studying and training to be a priest under the priests and priestesses there. When his homeland of Gaullia Belgica was threatened by the Goths, he put his skills to use in the more militant arm of the temple, the Salii. As an acolyte of Diana, his chosen order was not a spear or shield arm of the Legion; instead, he was drafted into the Sagitarrii. His order is not one of strict devotion to the Gods, but more to militant service for the Empire, so that others may serve their Gods, in freedom and peace.
Alignment: Lawful Neutral, good tendencies
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Old Apr 28th, 2022, 10:56 AM
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Name: Marcus Aulus Plautius
Race: Human
Class: Paladin (Martyr, Soul Sentinel)
Alignment: LG
Religion: Christian
Traits: Scholar of the Great Beyond, Magical Knack

Description: Marcus has a young, ruddy face, tanned by ample time in the sun. His hair is black and cropped short. His brown eyes glance about inquisitively. A smile is seldom far from clean shaven face. His arms and uniform are always neat and well kept. His tall, broad frame is obvious beneath his legion-issued lorica. A parma rests on his back with spatha and medic's bag at his sides. Curious bandages are always wrapped tightly about his palms.

Personality: You notice the perpetual smile in his eyes, characteristic of his indefatigable cheer. Yet, it is not the smile of a child, but hardened eyes who smile blithely despite weathering harrowing ordeals. His good humor is terribly infectious, & at times downright inspiring. As soon as he opens his mouth, it is obvious that he is among the most generous, forthright souls you've met; scarcely anything but a kind word is on his lips. This is not to say that he never gets angry or indignant; it just takes a lot for him to do so. Marcus always sees the best of a bad situation; it is never hopeless. He carries his duty as an officer in Rome's armies graciously and without airs. Few compare to his blithe willingness to help share the burdens of others.

 


 
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Last edited by dbaque; Apr 29th, 2022 at 11:24 PM. Reason: added pic & sheet link
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Old Apr 28th, 2022, 12:18 PM
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Character File
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Name: Ceallach Duane
Class: Swashbuckler (Rondolero)
Races: Half-Elf (Restyled as a Celt if that's acceptable. spme alternate racial tratis)
Traits: Giant Dodger (Fought some of the Things in the snowy north, Red Mantis Bleeding (Reflavored as savage training from his people), Flaw of Burned (Had been set on fire during an early assault as a Fish-that is, a fresh recruit to the legion.)
Description: A svelte man with flowing blonde locks and pale skin that's marred with burn scars that are mostly covered up in blue paint. He carries the weapon of the empire's old enemies, the falcata, and a buckler for minimal weight defense.
Personality: Ceallach is not exactly lighthearted. He likely was when he was younger, but a few years of service in the legion had tempered his youthful zeal and cockiness. He doesn't have much confidence against the strangeness of some of the threats the legion faces, but he's more than willing to carve a bloody path through the physical evils that engage them.
Background: A descendant of one of the empires' once-enemies, Ceallach is a 3rd generation citizen of the empire. He was raised honoring the culture he came from, but also respecting Rome's dominion. He worked as a skirmisher for the Legions for only a few months before it became known he had experienced some of the unnaturalness that was lurking in the north. He was moved to the Shadow Legion promptly, where he was nearly killed in his first major engagement. He survived, and came out of his ordeal somehow more dedicated to the cause than ever before. What was it that he saw in those flames?
Alignment: True Neutral
Stat BlockCeallach Duane
Half-elf (Wildborn) swashbuckler (rondelero swashbuckler) 3 (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Class Guide 56, Weapon Master's Handbook 6)
N Medium humanoid (elf, human)
Init +6; Senses low-light vision; Perception +8 (+7 when adjacent to open flames or on fire)
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Defense
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AC 21, touch 15, flat-footed 16 (+4 armor, +4 Dex, +1 dodge, +2 shield)
hp 28 (3d10+6)
Fort +2, Ref +7, Will +1; +2 vs. enchantments, -1 vs. fire effects, -1 when adjacent to open flames or on fire
Defensive Abilities nimble +1; Immune sleep
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee buckler bash +7 (1d3+1+3 Precision) or
. . mwk cold iron falcata +9 (1d8+4/19-20/×3+3 Precision)
Special Attacks deeds (dodging panache, menacing swordplay, opportune parry and riposte, precise strike, swashbuckler initiative), panache (3)
Spell-Like Abilities (CL 3rd; concentration +6)
. . 1/day—dancing lights, darkness, faerie fire
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Statistics
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Str 13, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 16
Base Atk +3; CMB +4; CMD 19
Feats Exotic Weapon Proficiency (falcata), Slashing Grace[ACG], Weapon Focus (falcata)
Traits giant dodger, red mantis bleeding
Skills Acrobatics +7 (+10 to avoid attacks of opportunity when leaving threated squares), Appraise +0, Bluff +7, Climb +4, Diplomacy +7, Disguise +3, Escape Artist +7, Fly +3, Heal +0, Intimidate +7, Knowledge (local) +4, Perception +8, Perform (sing) +7, Ride +3, Sense Motive +0, Stealth +3, Survival +0, Swim +4; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception Conditional Modifiers -1 when adjacent to open flames or on fire
Languages Common, Elven
SQ buckler bash, burned, elf blood, falcata emphasis, swashbuckler finesse
Combat Gear elixir of hiding (2), oil of magic weapon (4), potion of cure light wounds (6); Other Gear mwk chain shirt, +1 buckler, mwk cold iron falcata[APG], bedroll, belt pouch, flint and steel, hemp rope (50 ft.), masterwork backpack[APG], pot, soap, trail rations (5), waterskin, 202 gp, 1 sp
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Special Abilities
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Buckler Bash (Ex) Perform shield bash with buckler as a light shield.
Burned -1 to save vs. fire, -1 attacks, saves, skill checks if you are adjacent to or on fire.
Deeds
Elf Blood Half-elves count as both elves and humans for any effect related to race.
Elven Immunities - Sleep You are immune to magic sleep effects.
Falcata Emphasis (Ex) Gain proficiency with falcatas and may deal piercing damage using falcatas.
Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in dim light, distinguishing color and detail.
Nimble +1 (Ex) +1 dodge bonus to AC.
Panache (Ex) Gain a pool of points that are spent to fuel deeds, regained on light/piercing crit/killing blow.
Slashing Grace (Falcata) Treat chosen weapon as 1-handed piercing weapon and can add Dex instead of Str to dam.
Swashbuckler Finesse Use Dex for att with light/1-hand pierce wep. Use Cha instead of Int for combat feat pre-reqs.

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Last edited by Runetide; Apr 28th, 2022 at 12:54 PM.
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  #7  
Old Apr 28th, 2022, 01:40 PM
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ΔιονυσόδωροςName: Dionysodoros
Class: Mixologist Alchemist 3
Race: Human. A Grecian hailing from Icaria.
Traits: Accelerated Drinker
Description: A deep tan and a boyish face with only the start of a stubbly beard framed by long and luxurious black hair mark the centerpiece of an otherwise unremarkable young man. Of average height and build the only real feature of note is the splotches of purple on his hands, chin, and chest from where his excesses in wine have stained his flesh.
Personality: Dionysodoros is a lover of parties, wine, philosophy, debauchery, and not much else. His work with the Shadow Legion is done reluctantly and with much grumbling. Pure sobriety is a foreign concept to the man and he can almost always be found with a jug of wine in hand even on the battlefield.
Background: Born to a loving couple of wine makers in Icaria Dionysodoros was blessed at an early age with the chance to learn science, arithmetic, letters, philosophy, and a million other things most only dream of knowing. It was a blessed life until a wealthy Roman decided they wanted the Vineyard and bought his family out, over their adamant protests. They settled on a small estste just outside of Rome and life remained okay but there was little of the spirit of joy that suffused the house. His father began drinking more wine tha he made and his mother stayed in the house, offended by the stink of Roman air. Dionysodoros took the chance to study with Roman engineers and alchemists, learning of the many advancements the usurpers used to gain such control of the world around them. Over time he became well respected and even better liked by the Romans for his knowledge and skill with wine making and his unique ability to throw a party. It was due to one such party that the Shadow Legion learned of him and, more importantly, of what he befriended. Now he works with the Shadow Legion... reluctantly.
RP Sample: BachenaliaThe Centurion and his right hand walked into the clearing, the overwhelming noises had been too blocked by trees to hear upon their approach but now the moans, laughs, cheers, and jubilant exhortations inundated the pair. Being a pair of Roman citizens one would think them beyond surprise when it came to lewdness but what they saw left them both speechless. Romans of every social class mingled and couple with one another which while somewhat shocking to see a slave being serviced by a Senator it was nothing compared to the rest. Everywhere the eye fell one could see humans coupling with satyrs, dryads, nyads, and even a fair number of the fey folk the Northmen had brought with them. At the center of it all like an Emperor holding court was a rather unimposing greek with an amphora of wine in one hand and the rump of one of said Fey in the other. The man arose from a chair carved to resemble the sinuous bodies of humans coupling and waved drunkenly at the soldiers as they approached.

When the two finally got within spitting distance of the man he shouted over the tumult. "Welcome to our ceremony! We don't usually have folks coming in uniform, let alone a female soldier if that breast plate is anything to hazard a guess by, but I assure you you will both be welcomed with open legs! Now we have two rules here, the first is you must have a drink with me, the second is no one does anything they don't agree to so we have waivers detailing what you are and are not interested in, if either of you are unlettered then we also have a picture version and just put a mark beside the things you are okay with." The man was clearly beyond drunk but his hands were steady as he poured two cups of wine to present to the newcomers. The centurion raised a hand to stall him as he tried passing him a cup filled to the brim with deep red wine. "We have come to warn you a pair of cyclops are on their way and likely to slaughter and eat all of you. Perhaps were you a cult to Mars you could stay but as it stands I need you and all of your... friends to clear the area." The drunk simply laughed and pushed the cup into the man's declining hand. "Now now Centurion you are in the realm of Dionysodoros, you have no cause for fear and no right to break my rules so have a drink. You will find us more than ready to greet anyone friend or foe." The Centurion took the cup, took a sip, and put it down on a nearby table. "Fulfilled your stupid rule now you and your drunken friends need to leave." Once more the drunk simply smiled at the soldier before passing a drink to the centurion's right hand. "Her too. As for your concern it is noted, laughed at, and discarded. Lovely little soldier woman please drink the whole cup, it's a good vintage and it's clear your officer has no interest in enjoying himself." The woman looked to the Centurion who gave the barest of nod. She downed it all in one swift pull and in only moments was swaying gently but noticeably. "Better. Now Centurion know I respect the might of Rome, my own home was conquered by your soldiers and my family pushed away from the vineyard we had cultivated since Mesopotamia was young but you underestimate us. You think those gathered here are followers of your Liber Pater or perhaps you think us dionysian's? So quickly you Roman's forget that the gods are far older than your little stories. In ancient times your people were closer to the truth, referring to the great one as Bacchus, the fiery tempered god of wine, revelry, debauchery, and rebirth but even that is a blunting of who he once was. Before all your pretty names, or even the names my mainland Greek fellows call him, he was known as Zagreus. Chief god of the pantheon, lord of the Underworld, god of madness and first son of Chaos. Let me show you why those who follow the Old Ways have no reason to fear them."

The drunk approached a particularly old looking Satyr with a gilded flute. "Old friend could you play us a song from the time before peace? I have reason to believe a couple of cyclops are coming and having the ladies in touch with their more basal instincts would be for the best me thinks." The Satyr merely nodded and began to play a song that grated on the very soul. The women gathered around him, no longer interested in whatever they had been doing while the men bunched around the drunk, as far from the Satyr as they could be while remaining in the grove. After only a few seconds even the soldier began to stumble over to the Satyr, her Centurion attempting and failing to stop her. "What is this? What is that beast doing?" The Centurion's fury was palpable but the drunk simply put a hand on his shoulder. "You Romans call what these women are soon to become Bacchants. If my counting is accurate your soldier brings us up to four dozen of them. They will swarm the cyclops and slaughter them with the ease you or I would have stepping on a mouse. Relax, drink, enjoy the show." With mounting horror and fascination the Centurion did exactly that. When the pair of Cyclops came they were met by an army of women with great clawed fingers, looks of utter madness upon their smiling faces and a jubilant song of death upon their lips. The beasts were dispatched in seconds, torn limb from limb before the intoxicated and patently psychotic women began playing in their mutilated corpses, guts being thrown like snowballs. "I chose this grove for a reason Centurion. Now in about an hour the women will return to normal and you and your pretty little soldier can leave us be." The Centurion looked at the man with no small amount of feat, even the Shadow Legion's finest was not immune to the feeling when in a state of utter shock. "We will leave but I fear I must take you with me. I need you to write down and explain everything that happened here." "Ohh very well, but let my friends continue their revelry. "I will."

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Starting Money:*3,000 gp
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Last edited by MundayKnight; Apr 28th, 2022 at 07:32 PM.
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Old Apr 29th, 2022, 01:04 AM
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Maghnuis Maghnuis is offline
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PeregrinusName: Peregrinus

Class: Sorcerer (Divine Sorcerer) / Evangelist (Celestial Bloodline)

Race: Human( mostly)

Gender: Male, He/Him
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The man goes by the name of Peregrinus. It is a Latin name, but despite his command of Latin, his accent shows that he does not pretend to be from Rome. He does not wear the pants of a barbarian though. His normal tunica is neither red nor white, but is a brilliant yellow color with hand stitchery in spiral patterns of red on black, and accented with gold thread. On chillier days he wears a great cloak of long, soft, black sheep's wool. The inside is lined with wool adding stripes of Dark Blue and bright green. his hands are near covered with rings, his cloak is closed with a pair of gold washed ravens with red eyes of garnet. A complicated broach of a silver salmon sits upon his breast. Bracelets of gold or high polished bronze peek out from the ends of his sleeves. His ensemble is tied together, literally by a long woven belt that circles his middle three or four times.

His bold Romanesque features are topped, unexpectedly, with a mass of curly hair the color of drying blood. In good light, his eyes are emerald green though they tend to vary in anything but direct sunlight. He is a moderately tall man, lithe, rather than bulky. His movement is more akin to that of a gladiator than that of a member of the shield wall. most oddly, he carries no weapons, save perhaps for the stick he carries, which I suppose could be used to strike someone.

He makes straight to the Company Commander and presents him with a This one is to fight that which must be fought. It is signed by a General who is a friend and supporter of the new Emperorscroll then stands at parade rest until ordered otherwise.

What came before.Born in the north of Scotia, of noble carriage and noble blood, Fíachu is brother of the Ri ruach. The Ardrí, Teachtmhar mac Fiachu, Ard rí na h'Éireann, before having children of his own, had an heir and a spare in his two middle brothers, so the fourth, Fíachu O'Imgheal, was fostered to the Druids to be trained.Ten years with the the Druid school, and he had learned the songs and stories. He was now certified as Bard and Brehon. The young man was invited into the mysteries and magic of the Druids, but although he was appreciative of nature, that was not the focus for him. The more arcane arts had some attraction, but there was not a teacher here at whose feet he could sit for learning.
and then...Having determined to see more of the world, he crossed the Irish Sea to the lands of the Cymry and the Kernowyon. The land was called by the Romans civitas Dumnoniorum. Few were the Romans that he met in this areaC

The man who would be called Perigrinus did however meet another remarkable pair of men. An ancient man named Yosef, and an odd man full of Awen who was named Yohanan. They were afire with the teachings of Yeshua ben Josef. They taught him their language, Hebrew and spent years immersing themselves in stories, both written and committed to memory. Dedicating his life and magic to this Yeshua and his Father who Is who is, Fiachu took the name Perigrinus.

Hearing of rumors about problems with the Romans just to the north of them in Somerset, this is where Perigrinus encountered the Roman Legion. This is where he encountered the Shadow Legion. The problems were not between the Romans and the people of Somerset, but rather, this team from the Shadow Legion was here to hunt a Dragon who had reportedly been eating their troops. They never found a Dragon, but the disappearances stopped. When they returned to the mainland Perigrinus, who had assisted the men, (and discovered their secrets) returned to the Continent with them, with high recommendations to join the Shadow Legion.
Other Personal Characteristics: Curious, Protective, Excited, Devout
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