[Characters] The Party

[Gunslinger 19]

Post your character bios here with links to your sheet for general access. Char gen is as follows:

Keep feats simple - core and advanced pathfinder books only. It's the system I'm most experienced with.
Traits can be selected from either the second darkness companion and the advanced player guide, with the exception of the campaign traits listed in the APG.
Ability scores are 2d6+6, allowed one set of re-roll if the scores are especially horrendous.
Starting wealth are the amounts listed in the pathfinder books (rolling, not average).
Hit Points are max at first level.
As usual, you can't buy anything worth more than half your total gold.

[Colonel Crow]

NAME: Barrin Ironhite (character sheet)
GENDER: Male
RACE: Dwarf
CLASS: Fighter
CAMPAIGN TRAIT: Looking for Work

BIO/BG INFO (either or): It's hard to believe that this wide-eyed, wild-bearded dwarf is from so cosmopolitan a place as the Varisian Sky Citadel of Janderhoff, but such is the case. The craftshops and forges of the upper levels of that dwarven city-state, though, are seldom visited by Ironhite clansfolk, who make their livings deep beneath the surface, mining, scouting, or, as in Barrin's case, guarding the holdings against the never ending stream of dangerous Darklands creatures who constantly threaten dwarven life and livelihood.

After spending his youth training under his parents, aunts, and uncles, and then putting in a couple of years guarding a copper delve that attracted the attention of a marauding band of duergar scum, Barrin had saved enough money to equip himself to follow in the footsteps of his grandmother, a famous adventuring Ironhite who had ranged all over Avistan before retiring back to the deep passages to help raise her countless grandchildren on tales of surface world wonders.

And wonders are what draw Barrin. After a lifetime spent underground, trees and the open sky are constant revelations to him, as are the many different races and creatures he has encountered in his brief time out in the world. Making his way first to the city of Korvosa, he quickly lost most of his money, but earned the thanks of a trading coaster captain whose life he saved in a dockyard brawl. Barrin took ship on the coaster, and spent days staring at the enormity of the ocean when the vessel made Conqueror's Bay. By the time they had rounded the cape and put in at Magnimar, Barrin was practically an old hand, but on the final run up through the Varisian Gulf, he made the decision to part ways with his seafaring friends at Riddleport.

Now here the dwarf is, astonished at the sight of the ancient and mysterious Cyphergate, a little light in the purse, but ready for anything, anything this wide and wild new world has to offer.

[DukeofTuring]

NAME: Alonso "Lon" Mescher
GENDER: Male
RACE: Human
CLASS: Sorcerer (Orc Bloodline)
CAMPAIGN TRAIT: Looking for Work

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Lon is a white human male slightly taller then most men and and of slim build. He has short dark brown hair and brown eyes with shadows under them. On closer inspection, his eyes also have a reddish hue, giving them a burgundy apearance. Lon's slim face usually wears an expression of nonchalance, with a hint what could either be called confidence or cockiness. He is currently clean shaven, and usually wears a white collared shirt, a dark green vest, and a brown pair of breeches. Lon also wears a belt with a dagger and a few pouches, as well as a sturdy but worn pair of boots on his feet. He would look rather roguish were it not for his obviously limited means.

BACKGROUND:

 

Short Story: Ambitious farm-born sorcerer moves to Riddleport and turns to crime, then begins to rethink his choices.

Long Story: Alonso Mescher was born in the small farming town of Elham, some distance east of Riddleport, north east of Roderic's cove, just south of the Curchain hills proper, and near the Chavali river. The Mescher clan were moderately prosperous farmers who had moved into Elham half a dozen generations prior, after the founding of the town but not recently that Lon was considered an immigrant. Although financially secure, the Meschers were plagued by persistent rumors that they had fled north to avoid some scandal in the family's past, and the occasional appearance of features that could only be described as orcish in the Mescher bloodline ensured that they were less than entirely welcome in local social circles. The Mescher family story is that they emigrated north to avoid persecution at the hands of a rival and more powerful family, and the treatment of the Meschers within Elham only further supported these claims of victimization.

Born a third son and the fourth child, Lon grew up struggling for attention and independence in a world that seemed determined to mold him into yet another cautious, stubborn, salt of the earth farmer. Showing no interest in farming or any other kind of rural lifestyle, Lon quickly grew restless, rebellious, and alternately aggressive and sullen. He began to fantasize about running off to join the military, or the nomads that give Varisia it's name., He did actually run away at 14, but he found the wilderness dull, confusing, and intimidating in it's vastness, and eventually returned home. Around this time, Lon began spontaneously manifesting sorcerous powers, heightening his sense of ambition and further separating him from those around him. After some negotiating with senior members of his family, Lon accepted a modest amount of money and valuables in lieu of an inheritance, and made his way to the larger town of Roderic's Cove to seek his fortune. Although the Meschers do not have any deep rooted anger at Lon, they have largely written him off as a lost cause and do not expect him to return home.

After a short stay in Roderic's Cove, Lon realized that all of the centers of power lay in Riddleport. He then moved to the City of Cyphers, where he expected to find more of the action and opportunity that had drawn him away from the farm in the first place. His experience in Roderic's Cove helped him cope with the cutthroat experience of life in Riddleport, and his natural charm helped him fit in more easily than most country folk would. Lacking any kind of trade or sizable wealth, Lon quickly found himself turning to crime. He isn't strong or skilled with weapons, but Lon is both influential and willing to use his magic for purposes that the classically trained would consider demeaning or unscrupulous. After spending a few years making a name for himself as a combination conman and magical muscle, Lon's ambitions got the better of him and he began gathering up friends and discontented criminals to form a small gang of his own. Although their first major operation, a warehouse robbery, went fairly well, when Lon tried to pawn off the loot he drew the ire of the crime lord responsible for "protecting" that warehouse. The other members of the stillborn gang scattered, and Lon only managed to suppress the gathering storm by surrendering under his own power, returning all of the stolen goods, offering monetary gifts to everyone offended, and making liberal use of his silver tongue.

Although his unconditional surrender managed to keep Lon from making any permanent enemies, his failed scheme also managed to dissipate most of the money and good will that Lon had gathered in his brief underworld career. More usefully, the near disaster has also made Lon reassess his choice of career. Never having entered a life of crime out of more than convenience, Lon has temporarily withdrawn from his illegal pursuits and has spent the past several weeks living out of the friends' apartments, doing odd jobs and reevaluating his life. Although he's in no rush to make any changes or decisions, Lon is currently strongly considering working as an adventurer or a mercenary. Ultimately, he's open to almost any proposition that would earn him power and money, including a return to his life of crime.

RP SAMPLE:

 

"Alright, its a risky plan, I'll give you that, but stupid, no." Lon stopped examining the dregs of ale in the the bottom of his mug and looked across the table to his friend, extending his index finger for emphasis. The man across from him was older and tougher looking, with hair that was nearly shaven bald and an ugly scar across one cheek. The older man began to speak, but Lon raised his hand palm out and asked, "Again, Cay, just hear me out."

Lon paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. The dim chatter of the half-empty alehouse filled the air, and the crude but sturdy wooden table seemed in some place out of the flow of time, the only motion from the flicker of shadows in the orange glow of torches. Cayden sat on a chair facing the entrance, as he had insisted, looking patient but skeptical. Lon finished mentally preparing his pitch and continued speaking forceful whisper.

"Karl Skotha's got some pull, sure. You wanna turn tricks or keep a shop on the Wharf, you better get his blessing first. But he's not big like he thinks he is, he's no Cromarcky or Zincher. He's got his share of toughs, and I wouldn't want to start something with him in out in the open, but his roots don't go deep here. People don't know him, people don't trust him, he's just some new guy who's done good for himself and got a bit of a gang together. And I know the irony of me saying that," Lon says with a self-depreciating smile, "but it means that if we pull a fast one on that pigeon, nobody's gonna leak on us. We get in, take what we want, Skotha gets mad and stumbles around like a blind man, and everyone says to themselves, 'Well, he should have known better than to get into running protection, shouldn't he? Not his place'. So its risky, yeah, but you've gotta take risks to get ahead, and the Priest's really overreached himself here. It's a great opportunity, and we both know it." As Lon concludes his pitch, he clasps his hands together on the table and looks directly across the table. "Really, what do you think?", he says with a faint smile.

Cayden had listened to Lon's speech dispassionately, his face showing no emotions. His fingers, however, had silently begin tapping on the table, betraying hidden anxiety or interest. Cay had many strengths, Lon thought to himself, but bluffing was not one of them. Murmuring, laughs, and clanks from other tables again filled the air, and Cay seemed lost in thought until he startled, stopped tapping his fingers, then cleared his throat with an awkward grin. "Its a good idea Lon, and you sure dressed it up well, but I dunno...". The thug paused and scowled. "I'm not just rushing into something like this. Give me some time to think it over, run it by a few of the guys I know can keep their ratholes shut...". He looked to Lon for approval, and Lon nodded. "How about we talk again here, same time tomorrow? Or over at The Dancing Horse, shouldn't keep meeting here in case someone's watching us, right?" he corrected himself.

Lon murmured and nodded in agreement. Neither man spoke or moved for a moment, then Cay finished downing his drink and began getting up from the table. "Well then, uh, until we meet again...".

"Gods with you too." Lon finished. The two nodded at each other, and Cayden began threading his way between the tables and other drinkers towards the door. Lon remained sitting at the table, at first impassive but with a broad grin growing on his face as Cay left. Lon wasn't always the best judge of character, but he knew when he had sold someone on an idea. He continued sitting at the table for a few more minutes, nursing his drink while Cay's empty tankard sat silently across the table, dreaming of spoils and victories to come until a barmaid brought him back to reality.

"Just finishing up, thanks" he told her, downing his drink and putting a silver on the table. Lon got up and began to leave, but on an impulse he stopped to pinch the maid's backside and flash her a grin as she cleared the table. She sighed and gave an indulgent smile as she pushed Lon's hand away with one arm and took his money off the table with the other. "That's all you're getting, at least for just a shilling.", she teased half-seriously. Lon laughed and made his way out to the streets, sunlight and the bustle of the outside world. His smile moderated as the stench of the docks returned to his nose and he remembered not to overreach himself.

[Muggins]

Application Name: Erica Blackmarsh Gender: Female Race: Tiefling Class: Alchemist Campaign Trait: Fools For Friends Biography: Erica lasted through most of her childhood without any displays of her true heritage, avoiding most of the sullen glares and hostilities that a Tiefling could usually expect from a small town off the map. She was innocent and charming, even from a young age, often talking her way out of most of the fights she got into from his parent’s reputation. Her father was a drunk and didn’t contribute anything to their family, while her mother was left to take care of the house and also deal with gathering funds. Her mother was the one who influenced much of Erica’s early life, so far as being the one to choose her name in the first place. She thought her everything she knew, acting as her teacher whenever the opportunity of free time arose, even when it was better for her health to do otherwise. That ended up being her demise, though; when Erica was only nine years old she grew deathly ill and spent the next two years of her life in a bed-ridden state. Her father failed to help one bit throughout this, and even as she breathed her dying breaths he was preparing to move away from the small town in which they had lived for the last two decades. After that point, Erica lived on the streets of his small town. Surrounded by forest and jungle, she knew not where to go beyond the borders of the village, dared not to look into the shifting shadows of the canopy beyond. After a few weeks, though, she gained the attention of a family close to her own – she became an adopted child at the age of twelve, but even her saviours ended up abandoning him. Nearing her puberty Erica started to display the signs of fiendish blood, small horns being the first to grow as her hair began to deepen in shade and hue. Her brilliant opal eyes dimmed until only a sliver of light glimmered within the iris, dull grey orbs peering out into the unwelcoming world she lived in. From there she came to live on her own once again, searching through the remains of her home for the ways of the trade her mother had held so dear. She kept her notes safe and close to her heart, in the hopes that one day she would come to understand them; then she travelled eastward, smuggled on a wandering caravan. She never saw that town again, and neither did she want to; all she wished to do was find a new life in a bustling city, where none knew her face. The gold she had was spent on lodging and attempts to associate herself with regional alchemists, and she was all but spent when she finally found purchase under the guidance of a teacher. In trade for sharing her mother’s notes, Erica received accommodation and sustenance under the care of Frederick Chen. Chen taught the young girl, now only just within the hands of puberty, the methods and mixtures of Alchemists. As time went by he taught the fledgling alchemist all he knew, on the condition that she would not ply her trade within the boundaries of the city. When he had taught Erica all that he could teach her, the girl’s gaze looked towards the great city of Riddleport, where gold was earned quick and lives were full. She received aid from Chen for the initial journey, but after that she was on his own; with the materials Chen had provided her before departing she found a pleasant home within the Leeward District and began crafting and selling alchemical goods. She would live there for a number of years, finding a number of friends and false-family amongst the twisting streets and back alleys of this new home. For once in her life, the 25 year-old Erics was comfortable, even with the growing sense of intrigue with which she views the aging pirate king.

 

Application Name: Venn Blackmarsh Gender: Male Race: Tiefling Class: Alchemist Campaign Trait: Fools For Friends Biography: Venn lasted through most of his childhood without any displays of his true heritage, avoiding most of the sullen glares and hostilities that a Tiefling could usually expect from a small town off the map. He was innocent and charming, even from a young age, often talking his way out of most of the fights he got into from his parent’s reputation. His father was a drunk and didn’t contribute anything to their family, while his mother was left to take care of the house and also deal with gathering funds. His mother was the one who influenced much of Venn’s early life, so far as being the one to choose his name in the first place. She thought him everything he knew, acting as his teacher whenever the opportunity of free time arose, even when it was better for her health to do otherwise. That ended up being her demise, though; when Venn was only nine years old she grew deathly ill and spent the next two years of her life in a bed-ridden state. His father failed to help one bit throughout this, and even as she breathed her dying breaths he was preparing to move away from the small town in which they had lived for the last two decades. After that point, Venn lived on the streets of his small town. Surrounded by forest and jungle, he knew not where to go beyond the borders of the village, dared not to look into the shifting shadows of the canopy beyond. After a few weeks, though, he gained the attention of a family close to his own – he became an adopted child at the age of twelve, but even his saviours ended up abandoning him. Nearing his puberty Venn started to display the signs of fiendish blood, small horns being the first to grow as his hair began to deepen in shade and hue. His brilliant opal eyes dimmed until only a sliver of light glimmered within the iris, dull grey orbs peering out into the unwelcoming world he lived in. From there he came to live on his own once again, searching through the remains of his home for the ways of the trade his mother had held so dear. He kept her notes safe and close to his heart, in the hopes that one day he would come to understand them; then he travelled eastward, smuggled on a wandering caravan. He never saw that town again, and neither did he want to; all he wished to do was find a new life in a bustling city, where none knew his face. The gold he had was spent on lodging and attempts to associate himself with regional alchemists, and he was all but spent when he finally found purchase under the guidance of a teacher. In trade for sharing his mother’s notes, Venn received accommodation and sustenance under the care of Frederick Chen. Chen taught the young boy, now only just within the hands of puberty, the methods and mixtures of Alchemists. As time went by he taught the fledgling alchemist all he knew, on the condition that he would not ply his trade within the boundaries of the city. When he had taught Venn all that he could teach him, the boy’s gaze looked towards the great city of Riddleport, where gold was earned quick and lives were full. He received aid from Chen for the initial journey, but after that he was on his own; with the materials Chen had provided him before departing he found a pleasant home within the Leeward District and began crafting and selling alchemical goods. He would live there for a number of years, finding a number of friends and false-family amongst the twisting streets and back alleys of his new home. For once in her life the 25 year-old Venn was comfortable, even with the growing sense of intrigue with which he views the aging pirate king.

[paiute]

Name: Sand
Class: Rogue
Race: melancholy human
Trait: optimistic gambler

 

I’m a brigand…I like to ambush, plunder, and steal. Cause its easy to push people around and it pays more and quicker. See I’d be a good guy but the good guys just don’t pay scoundrels enough, and its in my blood baby nothing I can do about it. Here is the real deal though:

I was given a contract to do a hit on some biggy. Well the thing is that biggy made a hit on himself…and I was to fall for it. But I didn’t instead I reneged on the deal. So he set a price on my head… As much as I like a reputation as hot shot goon I don’t buy into. I gave the guy a slip, kidnaped his daughter, and made her my made woman. Truth was she was worst than I am. After I gave her a little taint she wanted to get back at daddy. She set me up, by the gods I could love a woman like that…if she didn’t try to kill me. Nah who am I kidding. So now I’m in the dungeon here just trying to wait my day out… What do you need done, so we can get these shackles off?

Words of a Rattler "Its easy to run things in the city but he'll never tell you where he's from. I saw him one time pray at an alter to Desna and then burned it down. But he kept some ashes and blew them in the ocean so a fisherman's ship could travel fleetly. Another time he made a Shaman give him guidance to capture their spirit animal which in turn he bred to overpopulation in the nearest town who paid him to exterminate, but he spread them across the land and the shaman's village grew. I dont know what to say about him...but his name explains alot." ~Hang Man, Gangster Jasper Le ville

the tavern "less reputable types; opportunists and thugs, looking not for adventure but for easy marks""~ lingering thoughts Yeah i can see the thoughts of chameleons straight from their walk, wardrobe, and weariness when they try to blend into a gritty tavern. They're saying things like "less reputable, opportunists, and thugs" Thats the easy life. But i'm all for adventure and the streets have plenty. And as far as easy marks thats daily work. I love when they are hard, it gets me closer to the end of the world. I'll be king of the end of the world one day.

Character Sheet

[Oghain]

Name: Gylmarix the Forsaken

Gender: Male

Race: Elf

Class: Witch

Campaign Trait: Researching the Blot

Physical Appearance: A tall, gaunt elf of waxen complexion Gylmarix is a man whose life has become his body. Pale skin, glossy raven black hair and deep piercing eyes, he is more at home in the shadows and stands out from the rest of kind as being one not afraid of consorting with the hidden powers of the universe. Ever accompanied by his familiar, the raven Vyrn, Gylmarix is usualy seen enshrouded in layer upon layer of ancient robes and clothing with the ever increasing tools of his trade fastened to the many folds of his clothes.

Background: Gylmarix's background before his current... infamy grew is mostly unknown. It has been presumed that he grew in the village of his birth and that his childhood and early adult years were much the same as any Elf’s. Where the story of Gylmarix becomes well known, at least amongst Elf-kind, is during the Tragedy of Yoljis. A dark time for elf-kind Yoljis was a rare breed of Elven criminal, the one that got away. A fearsome wizard of near fiendish malevolence who managed to escape the authorities and as a result ended up going on a rampage across Elven lands for nigh on forty years. During this time the wizard Yoljis wiped out most of the villages on the outer territories of the Elven lands. After he had been defeated, the number of dead was so great and the betrayal of Yoljis so biting that something without precedent was done. The dead were buried; a single great mass grave was built and secreted away deep in the heartlands of the Elves.

In order to protect the necropolis, a guardian was chosen. Gylmarix, an elf both of mystery and slight infamy for his mysterious departure from Elf lands, was selected both for his notoriety as a magic user and his cunning as an adventurer. The call was sent out under the cover of secrecy from Elven lands summoning him from parts unknown to return and safeguard the Acre of Tragedy...

RP Sample:

Standing over bubbling pool of what appears to be liquified crystal, Gylmarix passes a hand over the fluid and looks at Vyrn. Several dozen meters beyond their silent communion a smoking remain smoulders quietly. "Spirits of the dead... Ancient charges long since silent. Open the way, part the mist. Grant me vision of that which would defile your resting place... As he finishes his incantation the surface of the liquid bubbles slightly before flashing brightly and then going dark again. Exhaling sharply in frustration the elf yells in appellation to black night sky and hunches over his scrying vessel gnashing his teeth.

I don't know why you keep trying. It's obvious that it is either beyond your sight, beyond your power or any one of a number of possibilities. You are a fool to have already tried so many times... Though, I will admit that I share your concerns... said Vyrn. The raven was perched on the edge of his master's scrying vessel. Hopping from one foot to another Vyrn did as he was wont to do and voiced Gylmarix's unspoken thoughts. "You know what you need to do. It can't be avoided any longer. You must seek out the source yourself, and not from here. If you are to continue to protect your charges you are going to have to leave them to their own devices for a time..."

Looking up and glaring at the self satisfied bird, Gylmarix continued to refuse to reply to the bird, only speaking once again as he started passing his hand over the liquified crystal fluid once again.

"Let my sight wander far wide and grant me vision over earth and great divide... Show me the place where many gather, a place to which I must now go hither...

[Tayln]

NAME: Jeukai(Character sheet)

GENDER: Female

RACE: Half-Orc

CLASS: Barbarian

Alignment: Neutral Evil

Physical Appearance: Jeukai is 4 feet and 6 inches high, 113 pounds with a body that suggests that she spent ages perfecting it for more violent sport, if the obvious, although not overwhelming, muscles didn't make it obvious. She bore light green skin, gray eyes, and black hair down to her waist. In the terms of garb, she most commonly wore a fur skirt and boots with a simple corset-like article of clothing to 'keep everything in order' in combat. An intimidating battleaxe was strapped to her back, and seemed like her weapon of choice, but she also held a short sword at her hip as a back-up; apparently, daggers are too small for this one.

BIO: Not much history to share, violence tends to follow her around due to her barely controllable rage. She's heard about the tournament and has decided that it's to her liking, especially with all the 'lovely' things she's heard about Riddleport. So, it's decided that while she cheats the devil and takes his gold, she's gonna let a little rage fly in his face when she finds him.