[PF-1e] Pathfinder: Kingmaker

[noblestride]

WIP

Brundig Coincounter Name: Brundig Coincounter Age: 130 Class: Fighter 1 / Oathkeeper or PreacherInquisitor 3 Role: Treasurer or Spymaster Description: Of average height and build, Brundig's more outstanding features is his dress. Instead of the earth tones found among many of the dwarves that still reside in a Kraggodan, Brundig's outfit includes greens, ruddy reds and, most importantly, gold. Stoic and calm most days, when he witnesses an affront to law, he can become as riled as any dwarf who has had his work criticized. Over the shock of white hair that makes up the traveling dwarf's beard, smile lines crease the corners of his brown eyes. Hanging from the left side of his belt is an abacus made of sturdy black oak, just as much a symbol of his faith and profession as the gold lock and key symbol hanging from a chain around his thick neck. On the right, a quarrel of crossbow bolts that accompanies the hardwood crossbow gripped in his gloved hands. Under his glove, on the index finger of his right hand is a signet ring. However, instead of representing a mark of nobility, if is inscribed with a coin and scales, Brundig's own personal mark. Bio: Born and raised in Kraggodan, Brundig spent his time as any other young dwarf, learning to craft and use dwarven made weapons in defense of his home as part of the Orccleaver clan. However, his life changed when a group of adventurers passed through his clanhold. Hired by the King of Kraggodan at the time to locate one of his missing sons, the group took up residence in a section of the city where outsiders were allowed. Meeting two members of that adventuring group, Merina Istara the Sorceress and Adan Finder of Abadar, the young Brundig's inquisitive nature took hold. Wishing to learn more of the group's travels, he became quick friends with the two and even convinced the two to let him assist in finding the missing prince. It was this first adventure, that set him on the path to Abadar. Traveling outside of Kraggodan for the first time, Brundig saw what the chaotic wilds were like...beautiful but deadly. As the group searched the wilds of the Mindspin Mountains for the missing prince, it was the elven sorceress, and the Human cleric who helped keep Brundig grounded. Learning from the priest of Abadar and his ways, the novice adventurer would read from the man's holy text when the group was at camp. When on the move, he lent his axe and crossbow when he could, and simply kept out of the way when told to by the much more experienced Merina. That quest, and his interactions with the two members of that adventuring group were what inspired Brundig to take a different path than what his family expected. His mind made up, Brundig decided to join Merina's group, much to the chagrin of Brundig's family. Indeed, when Brundig mentioned his plans to leave the clanhold, his family disowned him. Saddened by his family's decision, and now without a family name, Brundig travelled with the adventuring group. During his short time with the group, he continued to learn more about Abadar and his tenets. However, wanting to find a deeper connection with his new patron god, he parted ways with the group as they were passing through the Island nation of Absalom. Settling in the nations capital city, the acolyte of the Lord of the First Vault joined the church there and found his calling in aiding Abadar's cause of increasing trade and protecting lawfulness. In that city, his adherence to keeping to a bargain and not bending on his morals earned him the name Coincounter. While used as a slur by those merchants and government officials who were unable to get the dwarf to bend to their way of thinking, Brundig now bears that name as a badge of honor, reflecting his resolve and adherence to the idea that civilization would not exist without law. For like counting coins, if done accurately, following Law will always give the correct answer. Many years passed, with Brundig diving deep into his work as a priest and accountant, his dwarven instincts for money and talent in securing contracts helped the Church of the First Vault prosper even more then before. One morning, Brundig found a letter with his name scrawled in intricate and beautiful Dwarven script. Upon opening, the dwarf read an invitation in the same beautiful script from Merina Istara. In it, she spoke of recent events she had taken part in and that she was looking for trustworthy souls to assist her in her venture to expand a fledgling kingdom in the Stolen Lands.

[Norse]

Hello Ysolde. Looks good. I have two questions:

1) I am very interested in knowing how much focus you intend to put in actual kingdom building. Is it assumed that we will be making such things as buying new houses and choosing what kind of professions there would be in the barracks? I like the general idea of world building, but would prefer not to go into details on construction and point buys.

2) I intend to present a candidate for the High Priest and would like to know if Queen Istara have already settled on a dominant religion or I could have any influence on that, if my PC was chosen? I was hoping to be introducing Abadar as the dominant religion, but 2nd priority could also be Nethys.

Thanks.

[Seekr34]

DM, what is the point buy?

[Ysolde]

Originally Posted by Norse

Hello Ysolde. Looks good. I have two questions:

1) I am very interested in knowing how much focus you intend to put in actual kingdom building. Is it assumed that we will be making such things as buying new houses and choosing what kind of professions there would be in the barracks? I like the general idea of world building, but would prefer not to go into details on construction and point buys.

2) I intend to present a candidate for the High Priest and would like to know if Queen Istara have already settled on a dominant religion or I could have any influence on that, if my PC was chosen? I was hoping to be introducing Abadar as the dominant religion, but 2nd priority could also be Nethys.

Thanks.

1) The focus here will be more on advising the Queen on various Issues and Deciding which ones your characters will deal with and which ones NPC's will deal with. I'm not going to focus on building points, where the docks ought to be built, and that sort of thing. The issues that come up here will be ones that each character might be interested in solving and yet at the same time may need the entire party to handle or you can decide to send a team in to handle it. There will always be at least one more item than available NPC teams.

 

Spiders!
There are Spiders in the X woods and they need to be dealt with.

Outsea Refuses to Ship our Goods
The Council of Generals in Outsea had refused to ship any goods of ours brought to their city. We aren't sure why someone needs to go and talk with them or "deal" with them.

Strange Shrines
Strange shrines have appeared near X town. The villagers are afraid they might be a portent of doom.

Resources:
1) The Tuskgorer's - A small tribe of loyal orcs. Powerful in combat, but not so good at socializing.
2) Bwyndyll's Band - Bwyndyll is a Gnomish bard, he and his band are often the but of jokes and yet they are quite charming.

2) This is exactly what you can do.

What is the point buy?

15 and 4,000 GP

[Seekr34]

App is done. Um...the bio may be a bit long, sort of got carried away typing out how he came to be and how he met Merina Istara.

[Seekr34]

15 point buy, yikes! LOL

[dbaque]

Ysolde, we can take two traits, as usual? Using background skills option?

[dbaque]

App Name: Calvin Ellison Race: Aasimar (Deathless, Halo, Incorruptible) Age: 70 Class: Unchained Summoner (Synthesist, Soulbound [wrecker curse], Angel eidolon), variant multiclass Monk Alignment: LG Traits: Trustworthy, Two-World Magic (prestidigitation), drawback: Overprotective Role: Councilor (or perhaps Diplomat, maybe Warden in a pinch)   Physical description: Calvin is big man, over six foot in height & broad shouldered. His skin is tanned & sun-kissed from working beneath the heat most his life; in fact, his skin almost looks radiant. His large hands are rough and calloused, even a mite clumsy, but their touch is always gentle. Even his footsteps are light despite his size. Dark, neck-long hair frames his handsome face though a few stubborn locks brush his forehead. Resolve beyond his years is etched in his face from his square chin to his deep eyes of vibrant blue, eyes that seem to flash with a fire whenever he gets worked up. However, at the flash of his frequent, warm smile, all seems right with the world; it has a way of setting others at ease and stirring hope back into saddened hearts. His clothes are simple and earthen toned, save an azure jacket he always keeps around; he jokes that it matches his eyes.   Personality: Typically, he appears unassuming; he is polite and respectufl with everyone he meets. Despite his tendency to keep to the background, it only takes a look in his eyes or listen to his voice to make clear that the lad has a peculiar sense of presence about him. Similarly, although his filling arms and toughened fists show that he knows his way around a brawl, he rarely likes to fight, seeing it as a last resort. If there is anyone he has little patience with, it is bullies. Calvin has never been able to hold a grudge against anyone and readily forgives, even those who have previously tried to harm him. This is not to say that he never gets angry or indignant; it just takes an awful lot for him to do so. Calvin can always be counted on to see the best of a bad situation. With his unflappably warm disposition, you can almost believe that it is never hopeless. Likewise, he always sees the best in people. This is probably why he forgives so readily. He is mocked as wearing rose tinted glasses, living in a dream world, something he takes as a compliment. "Dreams save us. Dreams lift us up and transform us into something better. And by all that's good, I swear that until my dream of a world where peace, honor, and justice are the reality we all share, I'll never stop." Calvin helped his parents with their shepherding since he could walk, so he has a very strong work ethic and sense of responsibility. His parents really were among the saintliest people he knew (& most patient), and they instilled the lad with strong mores and to care a great deal about everyone. His detractors say he sticks his nose where it doesn't belong, that he can't leave well enough alone, that he's a goody-two-shoes or has some hero complex. There is some truth to it. Normally, he is just a quiet lad, but faced with something in front of him, Calvin can't help but try to help, regardless of cost or risk.   Background: Calvin's first memory is a memory only half recalled, half told. The sorceress Merina Istara carried a little baby boy, swaddled in her arms. She handed the babe over to a couple, the Ellisons. She never said how or whence came the baby. They only recalled her sad smile and her parting words, "Thank you, both. My dear friend, she will be missed so. But she also would be very grateful. Take good care of him for her." After the elven sorceress left them, the Ellisons were confused, yet more so overjoyed. They made a comfortable living tending flocks of sheep in the northern plains of the Stolen Lands, along the borders of Restov. However, what they really wanted, and for so very long, was the blessing of a child. Yet this the heavens would not yield them, even after many prayers for the longest time. But, as they just learned, prayers have a funny way of being answered sometimes. They adopted the boy and named him Calvin. Despite his peculiar circumstances, Calvin seemed a perfectly healthy and ordinary boy. Sure, he looked a touch exotic in skin hue and eye color, and he had this odd relish of working beneath in the sun, but otherwise, a quiet, happy boy growing up. Well, the one sore spot was his serial clumsiness; no matter how he applied himself, tools and things just never worked quite right in his hands. It quickly led the boy to helping his parents with the flock instead, where his warm gentleness served him well. Calvin worked diligently everyday with the flocks, whether guiding them to pasture or visiting nearby Oleg's with wool or mutton to trade. Calvin easily made friends among the other families scattered in that wild, rural country, but he garnered a reputation as a goody-two-shoes among their acquaintances. His life appeared perfectly ordinary until one day. On an errand, Calvin happened upon some older boys harassing another boy. He saw whatever argument it was quickly devolve into a brawl. While the one was holding his own, there were a half dozen ganging up on him. Calvin had no idea what was going on, but six on one were not odds he liked. He ran in, shouting for the boys to leave him alone. He did about as well as you'd expect for someone who had never thrown a punch before. Staggering from the floor where he was easily tossed, something awoke in Calvin at his laughing opponent. A strange flare of his eyes was the only signal before Calvin threw another punch ... and took the bigger, older boy off his feet. Another of the boys and Calvin just stared at the boy laid out on his back. Riding the mysterious momentum, Calvin jumped into the fray. The stupefied bullies were driven off. Bruised and panting, Calvin and the other boy watched their assailants ran off. Calvin told his parents about the weird event. The couple told their son the meager they knew. The lack of anything further whence he came was frustrating, but if was not as if he had any leads to pursue, only that sorceress. As puzzled over his origins, he didn't ignore whatever power had awakened within him. As best he could tell, it was a sort of magic in his blood. While it lent him physical vigor, when he concentrated just right, all kinds of things could happen. Everyday he would practice whenever he had free time. His body slowly hardened, and his fledgling spellcraft grew more polished, though hardly with the specialization of a dedicated sorcerer. Years passed. Bandits that formerly made for an occasional bother steadily became deadly serious. The neighboring families lived in terror of the organized brigands. Oleg's unflinching example (& Calvin's words of encouragement) would not stir them to stand up to the brutes. It was one day that the bandits turned their attention on the Ellison herds when they were all alone. Calvin was giving as good as he got, but there were just too many of them. Knocked to the floor, the boy blearily blinked at the murderous goons leering at him. Then, all of sudden, a wave of magic swept all the bandits away like straw. Groggily, the lad stood up and peered around. His gaze alighted on an approaching elven sorceress. At first, she kindly asked if he was all right. But recognition hit both of them all at once. "You," each echoed. As the Ellisons gratefully thanked the sorceress for saving their son and home; they invited her to stay. She politely declined; she explained her mission to quell the bandit threat and their king that organized them. Calvin stood, lost in his own thoughts. Questions about himself lay unanswered. Their tormentors lay out there still. Yet, the answer to both stood right before him. With the same impulsiveness as when he saved that boy all those years ago, Calvin spoke up, "Let me come with you. I want to help drive off the bandits." Eventually, the sorceress relented, and Calvin Ellison joined Merina Istara's little band. He did not have to wait long before making good on his pledge. The cunning sorceress hatched a plan to split the Stag Lord's forces with a distraction at the gate. Meanwhile, Merina slipped behind the melee to confront the Stag Lord in his own hall. Calvin traded blows in the thick of the diversion at the gate. He was starting to worry about the sorceress and the battle growing long when the cry sounded, "The Stag Lord had fallen!" Without their leader, the bandits were put to flight. The band of Merina Istara sounded their leader's victory.

[Seekr34]

Forgot to ask, do you accept "The Elephant in the Room: Feat Taxes in Pathfinder"?

[Sirviantis]

A kingmaker game? How could I resist? I'll throw my lot in at the drop of a hat for that!
I'll join with my favorite mage: Golarion. Though expect there to be some work done on him to better integrate him in the campaign!
I was in the shower, when I realised I might as well do an interesting spin on the application and made this. It'll also serve as a personal reminder for how to adapt Golarion to better fit the game.

 

Acceptance letter To the honorable Merina Istara, regent of Tazlford, examplar sorcerer and visionary. Dear miss Istara, Let it be known that I've received your letter requesting me to venture forth and aid you in the conducting of leadership in the kingdom of Tazlford. Firstmost I'll take the liberty of thanking you for the consideration. Having spent a lifetime in isolation, servancy, exploration and education I appreciate the oppertunity to engage myself in the art of statecraft. I send this letter to you in hopes of better assisting you in your assesment of my capabilities and subsequent assignment. As you might be aware of by my series of treatises "Realities and magic: An entropist's instructionary" I'm known for being creative, and awakening chances where others find none. If you're not familiar, I'll quickly summarise it in this paragraph as it might, one day, prove useful to a sorcerer as yourself. I've a delibitating weakness as a mage in that I'm unable to conjure up the raw magical power required for spellcraft. Thusly disabled, yet not discouraged, I've founded the study of entropism. This in stark contrast to what I call potentialism, fit for those with methods of awakening power internally. Entropism focusses on displacing metamagical properties to generate differentials in energy, which I call potentiality, and harnessing those to achieve a balanced situation once again by discharging the potentiality as a spell. On the matter of my assignment, I propose I'll be best assigned as a treasurer. Using creative tactics to produce beneficial outcomes is a strength I've mastered over the years. I see no reason why I cannot use the same tactics to generate income. In my life I've learned more than just the bones of magic. I've organised the construction of my artifact: the snatcher's fingers, but it is a prime example of what monetary gains might be achieved with mere words. I've yet to divulge the secret of it's construction, but rest assured the prostethic was dear enough to construct. To afford it's construction I've leveraged promises. Concretely I've had to even out a previous deal concerning passage on a ship into chellish waters to acquire a starting loan worth roughly a small mercantile ship's treasury. With this treasury, and the captain's promise to sail for Almas and his aid in travelling to Taldor. From the moment we made port at Cassomyr I've been at work with writing letters and spreading the word. I've sought an audience with Stavian III for the purposes of organising a feast to honor his daughter's date of birth. With his permission I've organised a feast and a tournament but also an open market, all right outside the city gates. The tourney knights were charged to uphold their honor inside the arena as much as outside it, and to provide security to the merchants when they didn't ride in the lists. To further incentivise the merchant's protection I've arranged a rather low taxation rate through a glib tongue towards the high prince, and levvied my own protection fees. These fees were then used as a second prize to be bestowed based on valour and chivalry. Contestants were encouraged to escort merchant caravans and cooks both because it'd highten both the rewards and their chances of winning it. During the festival I've achieved the following: An income large enough for the High Prince Stavian III not to suffer less income from the lowered taxation rate. The favour of High Princess in waiting Eutropia, for organising this event in her name. A commendation from the city guard for ensuring peaceful trade at little expense. The birth of a new bi-yearly tradition, allthough the event is now organised by my successor, High priest of Abadar Elario Stendar. The birth of a tournament where even baseborn sellswords can profit from a realistic chance at a significant prize. The construction, and acquisition of my own artifact: The snatcher's fingers. I hope this example of my performance is enough to serve to persuade you to select me to aid you in conducting the treasury or directing and interpreting the law. This is where I believe my strengths lie. I'm due to arrive in less than a month, on Fireday the fifth of Calistril and will be travelling until then. With the kindest of blessings, Golarion Severineas

Application: Golarion Severineas Name: Golarion Severineas, Golarion Runehands, the Snatcher, Book-thief (officially it's Given to him by his mother at birth, but not used anymoreGolariel Chosen name, used by close friends and direct family translates to mean "Wisdom thief"Harelesherel Used by anyone elseGolarion Closest thing he has to a last name, used for paperwork and suchSeverineas Race: Elf (well, technically half-nymp half-elf, but that just means elf with some choice fey racial traits) Class: Arcanist (possibly collegiate initiate or occultist) or alternatively magus as the party composition requires. Gender: Male Age: 154 years of age Role: Treasurer/warden. I like the idea that the common folk can speculate he's doing vanishing tricks on their money, rumours about his hand being golden, or possibly conjuring money from thin air. Could also be Chief builder or apprentice court mage. Appearance: Golarion From the looks of him you wouldn't guess any stray, non-elven blood in Golarion's veins. The man is slender and tall as one would expect of an elf. His face is perhaps a bit less angular than one would assume strictly normal for one of his blood: Golarion's chin isn't "Sharp enough to open letters with" but slightly more half-elven in shape. His ears take away any doubt at his presumed elven lineage, with twice the length of a normal man they stick out through his ochre hair, and from the looks of it it's a miracle how such daggers don't cut into his long hair. In his eyes, one can see the honey he was raised on, anyone peering into them will be soothed by the warmth in his gaze. These golden-brown orbs are the one thing that hint at a non elven taint to his breed. They're significantly rounder than one might expect from an elf, and not at all angled. Between them sits a long, straight nose resting over thin broad lips. Unlike his eyes, his lips provide the viewer no calm, instead they mean business unperverted by emotion. That aside, his smile is still welcoming to many, and shown on many occasions. Golarion dresses for the job he's set his eyes on recently. Preferring smooth fabrics and long flowing robes when the oppertunity arises, often Golarion selects garments that elicit the iconography of the prophecies of Kalistrade. While that usually restricts the man to wearing white exclusively, Golarion doesn't follow the doctrine and adds in accents of red and gold. The man has an uptight posture, and often meets strangers coldly while he examines them. Not all about the man is pristine however, his clothing is nearly allways marked with dust and his head is often adorned with a locally sourced flowery crown. By far the most recognisable trait Golarion has is his hand, the snatcher's fingers. An artifact not yet of legendary status that serves to link the user to the world itself. The gauntlet enables the mage Golarion to interfere in occurences on the planet Golarion and harvest them for energy. Bone, reinforced by gilded steel, extends from the stump of his hand. These are roughly mummified with inscribed linnens. The object is held together by glass, shaped to form a hand and inlaid with small colourfull mosaic shards. To the casual viewer, the item looks like a needlessly expensive prostethic. Examination from one initiated in spellcraft will see it as a kaleidoscope of various magical auras however.   Personality: Golarion wields logic as well as one might wield a sword or a wand. Peerless determination is what characterises Golarion. He's hard working and brutally honest to a point where it could rival a dwarf. This diligent and honest attitude isn't the extent of the dwarven side of his character. Golarion finds honor to be as important as life itself, though he might seems to pull it from strange places. Instead of combat and skill Golarion finds his own honor in duty, crafts and providing for the future. Golarion is rather confident in his abilities, and while he feigns no humility about his capabilities, he's not one for idle boasting. An exception to this is different mages: Golarion has named himself an entropist for the source of his power, and commonly mocks other mages as "potentialists". Golarion has some envy for these mages, who seem to operate without his weakness, but values his own method more than any potentialist's tricks. When first meeting a new person, Golarion maintains a serious attitude. Beyond the first contact he's significantly more relaxed and hopes to come across quick-witted, and mostly succeeds in this effort. The man enjoys jokes and anecdotes as much as debates. While the elf often gives the impression to like exclusively appreciate the sound his own voice, this isn't strictly true. In fact, he's particularly susceptible to the common vices of wine and women. Beyond this, there are some quirks. He vehemently refuses to take to any nicknames and obsesively corrects assumptions made on the subject of himself. He fiercely objects to any attempts to divine his motives or thinking though he openly shares his motives whenever prompted. Beyond this, there's the earlier mentioned snuffing of candles, closing of windows and doors and the deflavouring of food. The man insists these practices are important for him to recieve Backstory: Golarion's father was wed to a woman of peerless beauty. But when lost in a dense forest, the looks of an untainted glade cannot be matched, and nor could it's nymph guardian Severinea. Golarion's father stayed in this forgotten glade for days. When days turned to weeks, he stayed. When weeks turned to months, their child was born. The elf was had his father's features enhanced by his mother's. The fey wanted to name her child after all the beauty in her home. The dew on the leaves in the morning, the shades of red in the sky at night, the frosted spiderwebs, sylvan had no words for this beauty so instead she named him Golariel. Golariel's father stayed with him and his mother. When months turned to years, the father tried to leave and was struck down by his mistress in jealousy. Severinea was left alone to tend to her now traumatised son. As a mother, Severinea was like a river smoothing over all the rough patches in the stone that was her son. In doing so she imbued him with her fey intensity and love. The pair was happy, and shared the grove. Elves grow slow by human standards, but swift as storms compared to the timelessness of his mother. Eventually Golariel outgrew the grove in which he was raised. Golariel was permitted to leave, so long as he returned. No amount of freedom satisfied the elf when he had to return though, so he started to steal books. Severinea saw what her child was doing, and gladly took part in the stories. The pair read most of everything, though Golariel allways enjoyed epic tales of mythical heroism more than anything else. Most specifically he was enthralled by the idea of the possibilities of magic. He asked his mother for tutelage. But the woman was no wizard, her magic was inborn and natural. Since she could not teach, Golariel tried to teach himself. He stole less epics and more manuals. Academical texts on the proceedings of the magecraft. Now, where Golariel allways longed to venture away from his home, he wanted to stay and learn. Severinea urged him to go out to steal more books. He learned about metaphysical properties, and found it rather intuitive. Despite that, he soon analysed himself. The result indicated his lack of internal power, and no manual he's found yet would teach him. Despite this disability, the man became a scholar at analysing the metaphysical. Luck is a finite source for the best of men, and Golariel was no exception. Eventually he was caught raiding college secrets. Larceny lead to examination under the Kyonin investigators. Golariel was jailed as he was judged. For his thievery he lost his hand and his home. Exiled and mutilated Golariel was sent to the stolen lands. The elf marked himself as lost. He wandered the lands for a while but soon stumbled upon an expedition of righteous force to rid the land of it's banditry. The scholar, now with a chance to redeem himself, eagerly joined the cult. For the first few days Golariel could only offer a back to lug around equipment. But he carried a bit more than he ate, so he was kept on. Before long however Golariel learned of the true scale of the operation, this wasn't some never-will-be's attempt at glory, this was a large-scale attempt at cleansing and structuring the lands. Golariel helped on more expeditions, learning to better navigate the lands and map them. The elf could at this point barely cast a spell, but was deadly with a map. With some sketches he predicted strongholds and supply lines. Bandits needed trade as much as any kingdom. He provided the oppertunity to strategically pick battles, and joined on expeditions to learn and map more. Golariel supped with many stronger men and women than himself, including Merina Istara. The sorceress was an inspiration to her in the way that his mother never was. Over fine food Golariel confessed his longing to arcane learning, but mourned his lacking knowledge and banishment from Kyonin. After the quelling of banditry, Golariel set out into the world for inspiration. If you havn't found a mentor yet, go out and teach yourself. Merina's words were freshly scratched into the elf's memories. Golariel went out, from the river kingdoms he moved west. Avoiding Kyonin by travelling due north through Razmiran. The elf quickly learned he'd be burned at the stake if he overstayed his welcome. He made notes on the workings of the state religion, as well as the land's ruler. He left before the knives were at his throat. On the way to Molthune he applied what he'd learned: To take aggresively. He tried to reach out and grasp the metaphysical properties he'd learned about, and put them on other things. Experiments with wetted candles and educated ale taught him to think about the effects of applying mismatched properties. By the time Golariel set foot in Moltume he applied his aggresive approach to his studies. He took the property of "world" for himself; he chose his adult name as Golarion and worked to attribute as many worldly properties to himself as he could. Golarion travelled through Moltune for a while as he worked on his beginings of magic. The spellcaster kept at his art, and eventually decided that power enough wasn't enough. He learned to think things through, and determine what properties he could give an object and theorise what combinations could exist. As he dove deeper into his studies Golarion also learned to use the world's balancing reactions offensively. His spells were little more than cantrips at this point though. He needed some greater acces to metaphysical properties. The mage designed an artifact that'd better connect him to Golarion (the planet), in an attempt to improve his magical reserves. The construction would prove expensive however, and Golarion's current financial status couldn't cover the costs. He set to work, writing letters, bribing clerks and securing an audience with Markwin Teldas, the imperial governor. He proposed to organise a tournament, festival and a large market in honor of his birthday. He arranged low taxation for the market, and used the coin thus won to arrange a second prize for chivalry outside the arena. With lesser knights and sellswords alike traveling alike merchant caravans and guarding during the festivities he saved money on the actual guards. The mage in training collected the money thusly saved, and used it to fun the construction of his artifact. Now laden with gold, Golarion went to where men grew their fortune to arrange a permanent residence and home base from which to travel from. Druma was the logical conclusion. He travelled along with a banking family's escort and landed close to Kerse. Golarion learned from the Prophecies of Kalistrade out of cultural curiousity. He initially didn't feel much of a pull towards the religion, but drew some conclusions. Their notions of purity were similar to an absence of the metaphysical properties Golariel studied. To the scholar it felt like an abyss at first, but over time it evolved into a blank canvas. He likened the Kalistrocatic "Purity" to his metaphysical "Vacuum" and pursued the lifestyle for both financial and magical might. The hypothesis turned out to be correct. Before long, Golarion finally managed to cast a proper spell. By this point, Golarion had a library's worth of books. He compiled them into one consistent doctrine and magical method which he eventually called entropism. The eternal student became a teacher. He sent a pile of his manuals back to the magical academies in Kyonin to appease the elves about his previous larceny and travelled often. Until one day he found a message from a certain sorceress. How did you know Merina Istara: Golarion met Merina Istara right after his banishment to the stolen lands. He conversed with her many times during her campaign against the country. The mage served as a military advisor, powerless on the field but deadly with a map. In the evenings he served as an advisor, during the day he stayed near the back lines with the seige weaponry.

[Norse]

Thank you for the answers, Ysolde. They suit me well. Will take a look at it.

[Ysolde]

Originally Posted by dbaque

Ysolde, we can take two traits, as usual? Using background skills option?

One Trait and a Second with a disadvantage.

[SelfAwareNPC]

Yippie Kye Yay, Mother Lover "Doc" Abner Halloway LG Halfling Cavalier 4 / Kingdom Role: Marshal Alchemist | Healer | Dinosaur Rancher (Mood Music) DESCRIPTION A very dichotomic figure, standing a mere 3"2 but having all the confidence of a man who stands 6"5. He tends to dress in rugged leathers and a signature duster hat, appears pretty scraggily with long brown hair and a scruffy beard, usually sports a dopey, half-drunken smile and can usually be seen upon a mega raptor, kicking back lazily and guzzling back some moonshine as he performs his patrols about the Stolen Land wilderness. PERSONALITY Abner is all about the good times and resting on the laurels of his skills and accomplishments, preferring to let his animals do the heavy lifting and his wife to organize the important matters. A skilled rancher, his Megaraptor Charlie makes up for his relative lack of combat prowess, allowing him to kick back and enjoy some casual patrols in a mildly inebriated state. He is rather social, fond of drinking and gambling, and often garners favors from others to be used to gain leverage in social situations. Laid back as he is, he takes his role of general surgeon very seriously and is very adept with his hands, having a special talent handed down by his forefathers that gives him a special healing touch to keep himself and his troops in tip-top shape. For his seemingly rough edge and charm, he is a fiercely loyal man and will come through for anyone he is loyal to in a pinch, having earned some acclaim and a title for his heroic deeds. He will not deny his greater responsibilities to establish a growing civilization in the wild, but he does not sweat the small stuff, garnering a reputation as a charasmatic and well-to-do leader, and quite talented in his abilities to keep up morale and get the best from others as part of his lazy but personable allure. Frustrates his wife to no end, but is as deeply in love with her as the first day they met, and ultimately will come through and follow her much wiser guidance, to the benefit of all. Background Abner and his wife were living a typical urban life of a young couple living in Isfahel, struggling with the everyday grind. Edna was a magical scholar, whereas Abner was a hospice medic. Both were good in their positions, but had a yearning for a life of country freedom, open skies, and simple life. So when there was a call put out for settlers on the wild frontiers of the River Kingdoms, it took mere days for the couple to decide it was time to pull up stakes and head to make a claim in the interests of Brevoy settlement. Settling in the wilds took years to establish, building a house from scratch, taming the lands, causing it to grow food and raise livestock. But it was rewarding work, and they kept the hard earned proceeds of their sweat and labor, relishing every moment and gains. It wasn't long after that they decided to expand horizons and start to cultivate more exotic beasts, importing eggs from foreign lands. A potential unique edge in the trained mount business. So they became dinosaur ranchers. The nature of their work allowed them many years to expand in relative peace even amid the growing turmoil that was arising in the River Kingdom, even as banditry and monsters running amok spread throughout the land, for few would dare try to extort and establishment filled with raptors. But eventually troubles began to come to a head, and the Threat of the Bandit King had to be dealt with. While Abner was content to let the troubles pass them by, Edna saw a unique opportunity to fill a need for their specialized project, and had New Steven to arrange a meeting with interested expansionists. Abner was becoming quite the bushwacker and a valuable guide, and their dinosaur mounts could provide a unique edge for would-be explorers. Whatever kind of deal she could make, she knew she could rely on her husband to comply, given she wields the proverbial pants. And right she was, as Abner begrudgingly complied, training a small contingent of dinosaur riders to become a specialized squadron working on behalf of the Queen, for a handsome fee of course. When war came, Edna never intended for Abner to become involved, but the stakes were to high for them to ignore and they felt a certain heartfelt attachment to the creatures they raised. In the end, they both agreed it was the right thing to do, and someone had to look after their "babies". As a civilian but specialized conscript, Abner was given only the slight rank of Private in the newly created Dinosaur Cavalry under the command of High Officer Steagan, and theirs was a guerilla unit, relying upon hit and run tactics thanks to the stealth, speed and visciousness of their lovingly raised mounts. They were a minor but tactical part of the overall invasion of The Stolen Lands, gathering intel for what would eventually be the groundwork for Lady Istara's seige of The Bandit King. When the time came to strike, theirs were an outlying unit, ideal for hunting down escapees in the dense surrounding forests to reduce the threat of a resurgence. It was not a position of glory given their dirty tactics, and therefore lacking in respectability or even notice. No, where Abner really began to shine is when he would take on double duty as a field medic during the several day long assault, sneaking back to the main camp to heal soldiers and fallen officers during the nights in tireless, thankless works. Many a gracious armymen soon new the name of Doctor Abner Halloway, an angel that came down from on high and saved them from the brink of death. During these long operation sessions, Charlie, his personal mount would rest outside the tent, a spectacle for soldiers unfamiliar with such beasts. But in the heat of war, even the Queen began to take notice of Abner's double-duty. Such activities wore on the halfling of course, and he was eventually dubbed "The Laziest Man" in the platoon because he was often found asleep in the saddlebox. But the High Officer knew of the Doctor's late night activities and permitted such an outlandish sign of disrespect, given that in the end, he was a volunteer officer, and a country bumpkin to boot. So long as it didn't compromise his ability to do his job, it would not be a major issue. And it wasn't given that when all is said and told, Abner himself is damn useless in a battle. Instead, all the legwork fell upon Charlie herself keep patrol and hunt, performing their duties automatically without need for constant instruction. Few people truly understand her breed, not realizing just how clever they are. For all their speed and might, intelligence was their greatest weapon. Eventually Queen Estara was able to overcome the Bandit Queen, though not without grievous loss, lessened greatly thanks to Dr. Halloway. Eventually they settled in the Bandit Camp and began to establish Fairhaven. Holloway's work was not done however, and he set up a temporary hospice so that he could keep tending to the fallen, once again working double-shifts until all wounded either died or was set on a path to recovery. It was at this point the Queen Istara had decided to pay him a personal visit as he worked, offering some high praise from both her own observations and the recommendation of High Officer Stelton, though he joked of his lackluster work-ethic. Though he and his unit were not as crucial as the main assault force led the Queen herself, the trial of a Dinosaur Cavalry proved wholly successful and showed much promise. The contributions to the war-effort given via specialized training and animal resources were recognized, but what is more is the amount of lives Halloway saved through his medical practice. Though he had lost count in the endless blur of treatment, she assured him 57 soldiers and officers were still alive thanks to him. It was for these reasons he was bestowed a medal of honor and an official court title. An acclaim that had caught Abner wholly off-guard, and modestly protested, trying to explain his duty as a medical physician and the hippocratic oath, but she granted him the title all the same. Even when his duty was done, he still wandered back home it a state of stupor. On one hand, they now were a large part in the growth and expansion into the Stolen Land, guaranteed wealth and legacy and perhaps a place of glory in the historical texts if they perform their courtly duties admirably. But on the other hand, didn't they run away to avoid the hustle and bustle of civilization? Abner is on the fence of how he feels about his new role, while Edna was over the moon. He was ill at ease with not know the future that lies before them. But one thing was certain. He could kiss their dreams of a simple life goodbye...

[Ysolde]

Originally Posted by Seekr34

Forgot to ask, do you accept "The Elephant in the Room: Feat Taxes in Pathfinder"?

As it isn’t in archives of Nethys I’m going with no.

[dbaque]

Originally Posted by dbaque

Ysolde, we can take two traits, as usual? ...

Originally Posted by Ysolde

One Trait and a Second with a disadvantage.

Thanks, good to know.

Originally Posted by dbaque

... Using background skills option?

And on this optional rule for some extra skill points to go around?