[PF-1e] La Cosa Nostra - This Thing Of Ours

[Touketsu]

Application DAMIEN "SNAKE EYES" BURANTA Race: Vishkanya Age: 35 Alignment: Neutral Evil Class: Archivist Bard Description: True to his name, the first thing you notice about "Snake Eyes" are his trademark reptillian pupils, set into eyes of burnished gold. When he looks at you, it feels like he's staring right through your soul. The second thing you might notice is his imposing presence; though rather skinny, what Damien lacks in body mass he makes up for in height, standing at 6' 6" and well above the average person. His skin is pale green, set with a pattern of tiny, smooth scales that Damien keeps as impeccably groomed as his jet black hair. It's clear that the vishkanya puts effort into his personal appearance; whether out of personal taste or simply a sense of professionalism, he makes it a point to always dress well. In keeping with his aesthetic, Damien refuses to wear bulky body armor or anything that wouldn't fit beneath his tailored black suits. Damien's natural features and commitment to his appearance have led some to describe the man as androgenous, something he has never made a point to discourage. The Line: Damien has plenty of things he'd PREFER not to do, but few hard lines. There is one line he won't cross though; snitching. An information broker who can't be trusted not to spill what they know is only a liability, worse than garbage. If Damien has dirt on you, he'll use it to destroy you... but he'll never rat you out. That's just professionalism after all. What do you, the player, want: I love the concept of this game! Seeing a story unfold with plenty of big personalities vying for control of a criminal underworld grounded in a fantasy setting? What more COULD I want except to try and add some intrigue to the mix; I'd love to be able to play "Snake Eyes" as sort of a broker of intel; the guy with the eyes and ears who knows dirt on everyone and uses it to play the mafia like chess. Will it get him killed? Maybe. Will it put his enemies in the ground first? Most definitely. Background:   Unlike many of his compatriots, Damien is not a native to Parsantium. He was born in Tanadesh, a vishkanya kingdom in the continent of Casmaron. Born Disshmakel, he was the eldest of two sons of a herbalist and a dignitary. Disshmakel’s father was inflexible and steadfast in every aspect of his life; traits valued in a leader, but ones that tend to make enemies. So it was then that the man found himself at the business end of an assassin’s dagger one day, and when Disshmakel was only 5, his mother took he and his younger brother away from their home in search of a new life, far away from the threat of her husband’s killers and the general danger that surrounded their family position. After crossing the sea, the family caravan hopped for a while, eventually finding their way to the great melting pot that was Parsantium. Though Disshmakel’s mother spoke only her native tongue fluently, she was a strong person and a hard worker, and after enduring no small amount of prejudice in her search for employment, finally secured a job doing groundskeeping for some minor noble. It wasn’t pertinent to her medical knowledge, but the woman’s background in herbalism made it easy for her to learn and apply the necessary methods of care to the many exotic plants on the property. She didn’t make much, their lodging was cramped, and there wasn’t food on the table some nights… but they had a roof over their heads, and some security and safety at last. Disshmakille never forgot the struggles they had endured to get to where they were though... and the ones they still had ahead of them. He remembered what they had once had, and how easily it had been snatched away. Even now, they lived in a city with almost none of his kind, with rumors and misinformation about vishkanya more populous than actual vishkanya. The average citizen would more likely whisper about him than talk to him, and though he had ambitions for a greater life than this, Disshmakille understood that if one really wanted to rise up in the world, they needed to be willing to take what was theirs by any means necessary… and defend it mercilessly. The boy began to pursue jobs as early as he could. While his younger brother Chikassh began helping their mother in her groundskeeping duties, Disshmakille sought out more lucrative opportunities under a new name; Damien. He found a lot of such opportunity within the communities of poisoners and apothecaries, using the reputation of his people to get a foot in the door selling “fresh ingredients”. Often, these were just clippings of the exotic flora his mother worked with, ground down and mixed with his blood or saliva, but the fact that vishkanya blood and saliva were genuinely poisonous meant that his concoctions produced real results upon testing, and he was able to form a network of professional contacts. Naturally observant and a fast learner, he picked up common quickly enough, and soon he was working on mastery of other languages as well; whatever would ease his entry into the criminal underworld. Damien’s gift for manipulation and talent for picking up on people’s weaknesses made him a surprisingly adept junior criminal, but his first big break actually came in the form of a very unlikely source; a goblin named Gabriel. As Damien’s presence in the city became better known, he ended up on the radar of this punk, little more than a neighborhood bully at the time, but one with family influence all the same. It should therefore have come as no surprise to Damien when the goblin met him in an ally one day during a routine product smuggling run, flunkies in tow, and demanded that the vishkanya pay him protection. Damien knew of Gabriel… and he knew his uncle was the Don of the La Speranza crime family… and he knew that if you weren’t with La Speranza, you were against La Speranza, which made the young vishkanya’s next move quite a gamble; he refused, resulting in a 5 on 1 beatdown against him. Damien left that altercation relieved of his money AND his product, beaten half to death, but his bites had left 3 of the 5 very badly poisoned. The lost profit was worth the lesson it taught, and the next time he encountered Gabriel in an ally, Damien stared the goblin down through a half-swollen eye and pitched him a better deal. The vishkanya wasn’t in the business of giving his earnings to bullies, and even a fight won against him would come with sacrifices. On the other hand, if Gabriel brought him on as a gang member, everyone involved could benefit from his talents. It was sound logic… but knowing Gabriel, it was probably admiration of the vishkanya’s brass balls that led to the goblin’s agreement. So it was that the La Speranza’s future underboss recruited the most silver-tongued of the family’s future caporegimes. RP Sample:   "D-Damien! Hello, I didn't expect to see you around here again!" Donovan Krier, the proprietor of a local potion shop, stepped back to allow the vishkanya at his front door inside. Damien gave him a nod and a wide smile, removing his hat and ducking slightly as he entered. Donovan shuffled awkwardly in place, slowly shutting the door. "Heh... in fact, last I saw you was a decent growth spurt ago I'd say. Used to be you could walk in here without taking a knee-" "Ssssshhhhh..." Damien brought up a finger, interrupting the dwarf's nervous rambling and inviting a long, uncomfortable silence in the moments that followed. Damien took the opportunity to look around, humming quietly to himself as he refamiliarized himself with the old shop's interior. Finally though, the man spoke. "Donovan... let's not wax nostalgic and play games with one another, eh? You know why we ceased dealings... and you know who I work for these days, don't you?" He paused, patiently waiting for a response.Donovan continued to shuffle in place, eyes furiously boring into the floor as if he were looking for an escape hatch to spring from the ether. "Erm... well, possibly. Rumors and all... heard you might be running with... Don La Speranza these days? Congratulations by the by, quite a step up in the world for you lad-" The dwarf had begun to embolden himself with another attempted diversion, though one look up into the Damien's steady yellow gaze brought the dwarf back to silence. "Very good... which brings us to this awkward little reunion. If I answer to the La Speranza family, and you owe money to Mr. Calebari, a LENDER who answers to the La Speranza family... do you imagine that I'm here in the middle of a business day because I wish to reminisce with you about... "the good old days?" He cocked his head slightly, letting the question slowly drift out as he turned toward the reflective surface of a polished black glass shelf. Checking his reflection, the capo continued. "If your answer is yes... I'm afraid you're.... quite... wrong. Donovan Donovan Donovan... tsk tsk tsk." Damien waggled a fingered at the dwarf to his right, eyes halting in the combing his reflection as he noticed his hair had come out of place a bit after doffing his hat. Carefully pulling it back into position, he finally turned back to face the shopkeep. "Now... I know what you're going to say... because you've already said it to Mr. Calebari." He gestured to the dwarf, whose face was beginning to go a bit red. "Yes; I already PAID him what I owe." Damien sighed, shaking his head. "Yesssssss, and I'm sure you genuinely believe that. Unfortunately, you seem to have miscalculated the interest a bit... not to worry, it's an easy mistake... which is why I'm here instead of his enforcers. Normally it would be a bit below my paygrade to make these kinds of house calls, but Donny, I believe you wish to do the right thing here." "B-but, that's not-" "-fair?" Damien cut him off, taking a sudden step forward and causing the dwarf to flinch slightly. "Donovan, let's discuss "fair", shall we? You have a gambling problem... it's why you find yourself in such appalling debt. Is it fair that the goodwill of my colleagues should be taken advantage of because of your weakness? Maybe, possibly, you think it would be more fair if you were extended unlimited credit and your debts were forgiven, despite the fact that you run a successful business and should certainly be good for it." Looking back up, Donovan spoke up suddenly. "It's not that simple Damien... s-sir! The shop isn't actually fairing so well these days. Absolutely no disrespect to you or the Don, but I can't afford to shell out more just because Mr. Calebari has suddenly decided to increase his interest. That wasn't what we agreed on when-" "Doooooonovan." Damien lowered his head, staring at the dwarf over the rim of his shaded glasses. "I don't recall saying anything about your shop; I merely said successful business..." He fell silent, watching the confused dwarf slowly put the pieces of what he meant together. "I... I'm sure I don't know what you mean." "I said I didn't come to wax nostalgic... that doesn't mean I don't check in once in a while old friend. I know what you're doing in secret... your little underground operation?" The dwarf's eyes widened. "I... wh-what are you-" "A dream lichen farm? At least, that was the primary grow last I checked, but I know you're exporting a few other rare components to an outside buyer. I haven't traced back exactly how you got the first sample yet, but I've a few working theories." The color drained from Donovan's face. Damien's smile widened even more. "Oh, you thought I didn't know? Well I suppose I see why you'd think that... you're stepping on my employer's toes a bit for sure. We control smuggling in this area after all... so if your activities surfaced, you'd almost certainly be dealing with major consequences. How then could I know... if you're still alive?" Donovan said nothing, standing stock still. While Damien's mouth remained fixed in the form of a smile, his eyes were no longer smiling. "I respect your hustle... I only wish you had the strength and the intellect to go with it. Rest assured if a day comes that I'm ever asked to look into your after-hours activities, that is the day your world will come crumbling down around you... but as of now, your operations are a drop in the bucket to the La Speranza family. It's not worth the effort or drama to rat you out, something I already don't make a habit of. Still... I trust we have an understanding now." Donovan broke eye contact, looking back down at the floor as he slowly nodded. Immediately, Damien's demeanor changed to one of casual cheerfulness again. "Goooood! So glad to hear it... then I think I can see myself out. I'll send word to Mr. Calebari that you'll have his money this afternoon." As the vishkanya made his way to the door, the shaken dwarf nodded, eyes still on the floor as his croaky voice uttered subconscious parting words. "You're... different Damien." Damien opened the door, pausing as he squinted out into the sunlight. "Not different per say, Mr. Krier... just better." Donning his hat, the capo gave the door frame a little knock and exited the shop.

[Preacherwolf]

Originally Posted by ekidnu

Ooh, very interesting. Preacherwolf, will you be using Background Skills?

That's something I forgot to add, but yes we will be

[pianoman90]

Interesting! A mid-level campaign with some criminal undertones? Let me see what I can work up

Dennis Crispin Name: Dennis Crispin Race: Human Age: 47 Alignment: Chaotic Neutral. Class: Barbarian 2 (Urban Barbarian)/Alchemist 6 (Beastmorph) Description A well dressed man, his face is pockmarked with scars won on the street and scars won through experimentation. He is older than most, and his age reflects his experience with the world. He has seen much, yet lusts for more always-his power and ambition is always growing. His third arm he keeps hidden very carefully, in a sling-like strap on the inside of his jacket (left side). Anyone who comes too close or questions the slight bulge he has there is met with a withering stare and a tight lip. To those who meet him, he appears careful and reserved, but back him into a corner and he will viciously defend himself. He has a stutter, which belies his fierce nature and makes him seem like a doddery old fool, but when he transforms or uses any alchemical enhancements, the stutter disappears completely. Stiff-upper-lip sort of chap, he will not tolerate fools lightly and expects those around him to get on with the job quickly and efficiently. Background: Dennis had a busy childhood, running with the street gangs of Parsantium. His mother had died in childbirth so it was left to his father to raise him in the Docks quarter of town. His father was a middle-ranking member of the La Speranza Family for as long as he had been alive, and he leveraged his interest and skills in alchemical experimentation to help 'the muscle' secure better deals (who would come up against bomb-wielding mooks with anger in their hearts?) and lending a few choice deadly poisons to the higher ups for their own particular needs. Dennis gravitated towards the rough-and-tumble of the other gang kids, fine-tuning his fighting skills to keep up with the bigger boys and girls. They would tire easily, get confused in the heat of the skirmish, but Dennis had a way of keeping his head clear, controlling the fight and outlasting all others. Where that failed, Dennis had a fast tongue and a biting wit - more important than that however was his fast feet - if he needed to hightail it out of the situation, he knew he could. Parsantium was his city from birth, he knew the Docks and the Poor quarters like the back of his hands and he used every advantage he could to get ahead. His father taught him the chemical and chymerical crafts as well. Dennis grew up knowing the difference between his brain mold spores and his mugwort extracts. He knew how to extract the spirit from a bottle of wine, purifying and enhancing the potency. He had made blightburn paste for one of the La Speranza's clients alongside his father (though not before leaving permanent scarring on his leg from accidental spillage) and before long Dennis was working alongside his father in preparing weekly materials for smuggling runs. Dennis' early days of fighting and scrapping on the streets was handy too - sometimes he would accompany the runs as the expert on the road who could tailor his extracts, potions, and poisons to the unique challenges faced and Dennis found his value slowly rising within the crime family. Body experimentation was next. Dennis had his brief, he had learnt much from his father, but he craved more. He had heard of dangerous experiments - consequences of putting a foot wrong here could have easily caused horrible disfiguration or death, but Dennis was not dissuaded. He spent days, weeks, any spare time he could in the Library of All Knowledge, seeking out ancient texts and lost recipes. So many wasted experiments and terrible scars started to form all over himself as he desperately tried to crack the back of this obscure branch of alchemy. He stumbled upon A Golden Fury - The True Transformations hidden behind a few old dusty tomes in the library and was instantly hooked. Inside he first learnt the mastery of bestial transformation and relished the primal power it provided - not only could he run with the smugglers and lend his aid, now he could sniff out threats, scare them with animalistic rage. The third arm was a triumph for Dennis - initially stolen from a rival gang member (complete with strange tattoos and scars of its own), Dennis was able to surgically attach it to his body and alchemically bind it over the course of a painful week. He had kept it hidden for the most part so far, but that was still only the beginning. The Golden Fury spoke of far more powerful transformations ahead, if Dennis had the patience and the time to master them. Lately too, he had come to know a Mr Hopkins, a strange man who seemed to have experience and knowledge in the forbidden alchemical body-morphing world. The Line: Pointless destruction. Dennis is all for gain of power, prestige, leverage, knowledge, or anything else that gets him a step ahead. But if he finds himself running with anyone who is too far gone down the rabbit hole of sadism or wanton destruction, Dennis will feel particularly dirty. For him, everything is controlled. He can fall into a rage of course, or become beast-like and savage, but he would never do so without good cause. I can't say that Dennis has ever thought of himself as a 'good-guy', but he would definitely not stoop to calling himself 'evil' either. Selfish and power-hungry he may be, but he is definitely above pointless destruction. What do you, the player, want: I want what Dennis wants - a chance to explore and experiment with some high level shenanigans. Level 8 adventures are fantastic places to start diving into these high-powered environments. Further than that, a criminal world is a fascinating one to dive in, especially with the trigger question of 'The Line' above. How much will we all toe our respective lines throughout the game? What happens if we are confronted with terrible situations? How can we (players AND characters) stay sane throughout and keep our morals in line? Lots of juicy questions that test us all and help drive a fascinating narrative. That is what I am particularly after!   The night was young, and Dennis was in his element once again. He had just synthesized a crucial chemical as part of his latest discovery-a combination of lead, gold and chicken's blood. The fresh kill was still laid out on the bench next to the vial but that hardly mattered to Dennis. He was so close! "Hah! Now, w-where was that b-blasted oak sap?" Mumbling to himself as a sort of nervous energy relief, he flapped around his workshop, tossing vials to and fro. "n-n-not here, perhaps... oh no, no, that isn't it e-either. ...Yes that is the dragon's blood." *CRASH*, as it was flicked behind him absentmindedly. "One, two, th-three flasks of liquid aluminum, no, no, no... Underneath the apple vinegar? Hmmm... Ah!" His shaking hands moved quickly towards a small vial of black, viscous liquid sitting in a row of similarly syrupy jars. Crowing to himself, he took it over to his workbench and upended the bottle into the mixture. A small *Poof* shot off into the roof and smoke curled lazily upwards. Grinning to himself, he held it aloft, carefully inspecting the mixture against the single candle that lit the room. Seemingly satisfied with it, and hardly taking time from his ramblings to breath, Dennis tipped the bottle straight back down his throat. And waited. At first, nothing happened, Dennis was stock still. His breathing slowed, his mind raced. Did I get the mixture right this time? Did I forget an ingredient? No, no-precious metals, two aplenty, precious life, four and twenty. That was how it wennnt... He could feel it working, the mixture had taken hold of something deep within him. He felt his skin begin to crawl as it worked its wonders on him once again. His third arm twitched uncontrollably under his jacket, flopping out from its sling and wiggling around. "Ha-ha! This is brilliant, I knew it would work this time!" In an instant, his skin turned from pale, pasty white to a hard, grey colour. Raising a shaking hand to his eyes, he flexed and felt the metallic feeling in between his fingers. Ripping off his shirt, he saw the concoction still hard at work as it made its way down his body, slowly turning his chest hard, then his legs, and finally his feet. He jumped for joy, dancing about the workshop in exuberance. But this was shortlived. Only a few minutes had passed, when he felt the effect of the concoction already fading. "No, no, no!! Th-this cannot b-be, I have worked too hard to not have the permanency I d-deserve!" But it was to no use, the chemicals were already wearing off, and Dennis was soon back to his pasty white self. Cursing in frustration, he turned towards his notebooks, scribbling furiously. The concentration was correct, the concoction a success. But I cannot seem to create the everlasting effect I am after. I have been given a new concoction by someone I have come to trust. Mr Hopkins has proven himself knowledgeable and skilled in the alchemical arts and has even shown me some experimentation of his own. He swears by this mixture of his, tells me he drinks it every time he sits down to create. For my studies, I must try this, even if I cannot understand everything that goes into it Moving away from the table where he kept his notes, he looked for the vial in question. He found it amongst other hastily scribbled notes, some with strange chemical formulae on them, others with bits of names. In the middle of one of the larger scraps was a name, surrounded by question marks, notes scribbled out and written again, then scribbled out again. It was clear Dennis had tried to analyse the mixture, but something eluded him. He sighed, and took the vial in his hand. Bracing himself, he opened it and downed it in one gulp. Feeling the effects almost immediately, he found his chair again and slumped into it. He felt heady, woozy. The concoction had a far more powerful effect on him than he had thought it would. Struggling to think straight, he began to realise something was not right. He tried to stand, but couldn't-his strength was gone from his legs. Raising a shaky hand in front of his face, he tried to focus on it. But it was only seconds before he slumped into his chair, unconscious.

[ekidnu]

Rap Sheet Vitals Name: Sicily ‘Dead Dog’ Mezzoalto Race: Halfling Age: 25 Alignment: Chaotic Evil Class: Sorcerer (Serpentine bloodline) Sicily Mezzoalto Description Female. 3’ 2” tall. 33 lbs. Very slender, flexible build. Wavy, shoulder-length honey blonde hair. Light green eyes. Fair complexion. Petite feet covered with dense, silky caramel hair. Unassuming, simple dress, befitting a servant or favored slave. Typically clean and presentable, but not afraid to get dirty. Friendly, helpful attitude. Quiet, deferential voice, even while casually incinerating a puppy. Background Father: unknown. Mother: Lucretia Mezzoalto (rumored to have connections with the Il Basso family); deceased. Siblings: None. Childhood: Sicily and her mother lived alone on the streets of Torvusa, surviving through petty crime. They bounced in and out of prison, sometimes together, sometimes not, but Sicily's stays were always short, thanks to her propensity for escape. Despite the hardship, those early years form Sicily's fondest memories--they're all she has left of her mother. To this day she relishes the vibrant mischief of an urchin's life, taking her mother's motto "Life is a game" very much to heart. Parsantium: A year after a mastiff mauled her mother to death, Sicily was captured by slavers and smuggled through Parsantium's docks ... and right into La Speranza's racket. Originally she was meant for a sweatshop, but her glib tongue and Charm Person beginsrecently discovered magic twisted the threads of fate into a different destiny--she became a servant/slave for a cousin of The Family instead. Through spell and speech--and thanks to a bond developed over their shared hatred of dogs--halfling and goblin became good friends. The overseas journey may have awakened her latent magic, but her experiences with the goblin mafioso awakened something deeper within her blood--a desire to control, either overtly, as a master might order a slave, or secretly, like a criminal organization pulling strings from behind the shadows. But Sicily has no desire for orderly criminal activity--no, she quite likes the chaos of crime in her hometown of Torvusa. What she has discovered is the thrill of control, of discovering thousands of minds that exist as toys for her entertainment. La Speranza: It's unclear how many goblins she might have bespelled, but Sicily (or Sis) is generally well liked by the family; in return, her affection for the greenskins seems genuine. She has proven useful too, as a public relations manager who trades in favors, and as a problem solver--after all, the simplest solution is to just convince the other person to do what you want. With her criminal background as a grifter and opportunistic pickpocket, and an unabashed willingness to slum with the masses--even in the prisons--perhaps her quick rise from soldier to capo is not unexpected. True, Sis does have a penchant for impulsive mischief, but she also seems utterly devoted to the Family, as an optimistic servant content to live in the shadows, so La Speranza overlooks her shortcomings ... as well as the strange snake that seems to follow her around. It's rather peculiar, especially since Sis hates snakes, but not in the way she hates dogs--they're just, like, gross and disgusting and ew.

 

The Line: What line? Sis is not a fan of violence or torture--though manipulating a person to kill someone might be amusing--and she doesn't like taking from the poor, either as a practical matter (there's not much profit), or as a matter of entertainment. But if she's cornered, or feels threatened, and needs to escape, she won't think twice about fireballing an orphanage.

Okay, okay--there is one line she won't cross. She would never, ever betray family. Family is everything.

What do I want: Fun. I’ve wanted to play a consummate liar for a long time, and this seems like a great opportunity to do so. I'm also curious to meet the challenge of playing a chaotic evil character who works well with the party. I would absolutely love to run a con or a heist. And I'd like to explore what 'Sis is set up for conflict between La Speranza and Il Bassofamily' really means.

Detective Sullivan’s Share Memory File There's one in every family. The undisciplined troublemaker who gets away with murder--it's a wonder Sicily is still part of the family. Maybe the rumors about her enchanting the 'Big Cheese' are true? Then again, she's not a homocidal maniac like Sonny--it's easier to overlook her sins when most of them are hidden, subtle magical manipulations that are impossible to prove. After all, maybe Virgil really did have a secret fetish for sheep. And ... oh, here she comes. ~ ~ ~ A willowy halfling strolls around the corner, conversing pleasantly with a dwarf. "Please," she modestly inclines her head in deference, "I'm just a humble servant of the Family, trying to clear up a misunderstanding, before a potentially bad situation becomes worse. As I've told you before, La Speranza was not involved in any way, shape, or form with the molasses incident--I solemnly swear this upon my mother's grave. If you must point fingers, you might consider who holds a grudge against your family ... and has a short enough temper to do something about it." While the dwarf replies, a small dog trots out of a nearby alley and begins to follow the pair. "But of course. It's simply a matter of good business. We appreciate your services greatly--and honestly, I like you and your wife a lot--but according to Gabriel, you still owe us money. I'm sure you understand better than most--we can't just 'forget' your debts, no matter how much we like you. Don La Speranza may be generous and forgiving ..." barkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkba rkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkbarkba- Sicily casually flicks her wrist in a limp, backhanded wave, as if lazily brushing away an annoying fly. For an instant her eyes pale into amber, while her pupils contract into vertical slits. -rkbarkbarkba-yipe! Without missing a beat, the halfling continues chatting amiably through the ensuing silence, as if nothing had happened. "... but it would be best to not cross him."

[Silk]

• I need clarification on if the Inner Sea Pirate Prestige Class is okay to use. ...or is it Deep Sea Pirate?
  It's only listed as other and not 3rd party on d20pfsrd and aonprd never says.

I've actually been using aonprd to look things ups and d20pfsrd to confirm that they are not 3rd party stuff but I've been finding several discrepancies between the two, like the Inner/Deep Sea Pirate thing, and frankly, it's annoying

 

Character Application going sword and gun fighting style & yes, she will be rocking the pigtails :D Name: Samantha "Huntress" Wells Race: Human Age: 31 Alignment: Chaotic Neutral with But only when she's in a Vindictive mood or getting some payback.evil tendencies Class: Swashbuckler(Picaroon) 5 / Fighter(Cad) 3 <take 4th level Fighter at level 9 and the rest Inner Sea Pirate> The Line: While Sam can be quite evil when she's in a see alignment abovevindictive mood, and will defiantly shoot you in the face if you threaten her, Sam does not kill without cause. She does not kill unless ordered to do so, but she will object and feel extremely bad about it. This is due to her pirate life where you can find your ship captured and your loot was stolen from you but at least you get to sail away with your life...most of the time.prisoners, children, or families. There is always a reason why Sam kills someone, even if it's just because she's which is a hobby of hersfalling down drunk, and thinks you are trying to rob her. If that last part is the case Sam will at the very least apologize when she sobers up. What do you, the player, want: Honestly, the same thing I want out of all my games, to not be bored! While sometimes pbp can get for example, in the Shadowrun games I'm in, I am getting tired of the Mr. Johnson+Planning Phase of the game.tiring I find the experience of I admit, I like making characters a lot making characters and posts for those characters enjoyable. Description: At an average height of 5 foot 4 inches with an athletic build, Samantha does not stand out much. Her looks are above average and she can pull off the cute look very well with her hair done up in twin pigtails all the time. It's when you get to know her that you realize beneath that cute exterior and a cunning smile that Sam has a mean streak. The sheaths tied together on her left side holding a rapier and shortsword along with a double-barreled pistol on her right hip and buckler gun attached to her left forearm should have also clued one into just how dangerous Sam could be. But then, most men will look past all that and see Samantha's cute looks and think "easy mark" to their detriment. Sam absolutely loves being underestimated. Background: Samantha might as well have been born a pirate and as far as the world at large thinks, she and her entire island village of sounds pirate-y Targo are pirates. During a time in Sam's youth, their little village was struck by famine and no one would help them, so the village of Targo started raiding ships. The famine only lasted a year and it took another year before they could get enough to sustain themselves but the damage was done. Targo was labeled a pirate haven and any kind of trade with their neighbors was costly or unwanted. When the actual pirates showed up, Targo had no choice but to become what everyone said it was, a pirate haven. With her mother having died in childbirth Sam was left to be raised by her father Jimmy. Being raised by a fisherman and then a pirate after the famine was no picnic for Samantha and she had her eyes opened wide at an early age. By the time she was fourteen, Sam had killed for the first time when a few pirates from a rival crew had decided to rob her house and have some fun while her father Jimmy was out to sea. Sam was forced to flee and during the fight, her house went up in flames and so she decided Targo was no longer safe. Upon their return, Sam signed up with the pirate crew that her father had joined led by a dwarven pirate named Spike and who sailed the Kraken's Eye. Pirating is not an easy livelihood nor is it as glamorous as all the stories made such a life out to be. Samantha became hardened and sullen in her years as a pirate but managed to keep a sense of self along the way. It was possible Sam would have stayed a pirate for the rest of her life if not for the mutiny. Captain Spike took a bad wound while taking an Imperial Gallion and was later killed by Spike's first mate, Krill when Sam's father and a handful of crewmembers loyal to the captain tried to stop a mutiny over the spoils. Samantha quickly found herself on the losing side of the mutiny but Krill was known as a vicious and bloodthirsty human and except for his sister back in Parsantium he has no qualms about killing everyone. But that one bright spot in Krill's personality would not save Sam and it did not save her father or any of his fellow shipmates for siding against the man. Sam watched her father die at the hands of Krill but in her anger knew she could not claim vengeance now. With the battle lost and her father dead, there was only one place for Sam to go, and that was into the sea. Filled with anger at Krill's betrayal, Sam did not like her chances as she dove into the water, but they were better than back on the Kracken's Eye. Ditching anything that might wight her down including most of her clothes, Sam bound any wounds that might bleed and attract sharks before conserving her strength by laying back and floating. Adrift, Sam forced herself to remain calm and waited for the gods to decide her fate. Samantha floated for a good two days before she heard the faint sounds of seagulls and spent the rest of that day trying to get to the speck of land that would be her new home. Fate it seemed had decided to grant Sam a second chance. For over a year Samantha survived on that lonely lump of rock, finding only enough food and water to survive. For four hundred days Sam barely survived and came close to dying of dehydration when the rains failed to come on time. When a merchant ship rescued a scrawny scantly clad girl off that island, Sam had already planned on exactly what she would do. There was little chance of her being able to hunt down the Kracken's Eye and by extensions, Krill after a year and change had passed. So she made her way to Parsantium where Sam knew Krill had a sister. It was the only lead she had and once there Sam headed to the Dock Ward where she found the Kracken had docked three months past. Not wanting to spook Krill's sister by asking around for relatives of the traitorous man, and with nothing better to do than wait until the Kracken's Eye made another appearance in Parsantium, Samantha decided to get drunk. After winning a With nothing on her to bet with, Sam bet herself. Either way, she would have some fun.bet that she could out-drink a local, Sam turned in her winnings for more rum that caused the next few days to turn into a blur, and along the way she made some new acquaintances. Though some would say waking up laying in your own vomit chained to a post in a dingy basement with a throbbing headache and throbbing body from a beating she had received was the wrong acquaintances to make. But until the Kracken's Eye and/or Krill arrived in Parsantium, Sam needed some way to make enough drinking money for her stay here. When a group of angry men and women with injuries from a barfight entered the basement, Sam could only grin at causing more damage to them than she had received. When a man with a limp, a broken nose, and his right arm in a sling hobbled forward asking if she knew that she was messing with the La Speranza Family, Sam just grinned even though her split lip hurt. Before the man could go on or before the angry mob could finish their work Sam said, "Hay, I'm just looking for work while I wait for this one ship to come in. If you're looking for qualifications just look at the damage I did to you and your friends while falling down drunk. Now imagine what would have happened if I had been sober?" Sam's bloody grin may have gotten her in through the door but that doesn't mean she was a rising star in the La Speranza Family, not at first. It took time to work her way up to the rank of captain, and several years later Samantha still made her way down to the Dock's every day looking for the Kracken's Eye, or Krill. RP Sample: Samantha smiled while eyeing the portmaster as he went over Captain Brill's bill of loading for his ship, the Shimmering Jade. The portmaster was new to the job after the previous person who held the position made a name for himself by ignoring the signs and impounding a ship for contraband. Everyone knew the previous portmaster took early retirement, hence the new man's promotion. Most suspected that the previous portmaster also had a rock tied to his feet before being drowned in the harbor. Sam knew that was a lie. He was, in fact, at the bottom of a lagoon a good league up the river with a bullet hole between his eyes. When Sam disappeared someone, she didn't give them a chance to escape, hence the bullet, but this new I know it's called a Harbormaster, but with the harbor across the river, I figured they would make distinctions. And though the harbor is meant for harboring ships, I figured there would be enough shipping traffic to the Port to supply the other side of the city to hide any smuggling.portmaster was smart. As soon as she made the mark of the La Speranza family in his ledger as the receiving party of the Shimmering Jade's cargo, the man started to shake. Intelligent people like him could figure out what was going on; they could do the math. It was the clever and stupid people one had to watch out for in this kind of business. As the man shakily noted down the delivery contents, several barrels of I don't know if flour was kept in barrels or not back then, but it seems reasonable.flour, he shakily spilled a bit of ink in his ledger and said "oops" with the La Speranza family mark and several other lines being obscured by the ink. Palming a small pouch, Sam patted the man on the chest, making his watch pocket bulge, and said, "Don't worry about it. You'll get better as you get accustomed to your new role." The bribe paid, Sam walked away from the new portmaster to oversee the offloading of the cargo into her crew's wagon. When she first became a Capo in the La Speranza family and found out the word meant Captain, she had come close to refusing the promotion. In Sam's eyes, the only time she should be called Captain is when she was at the helm of her own ship. But she had unfinished business in Parsantium, so she accepted the promotion. Unlike most of the just an assumption other Capo's of the La Speranza family, Samantha did not want a protection escort, not even a single bodyguard. It wasn't that Sam was fearless and unafraid of anyone taking out a Capo of the La Speranza family. She would rather have the reputation of someone who could take care of herself and is actually eager to join swords with any potential assassin than hiding behind a bodyguard. But if the situation required a show of force or grunt work as today did, Sam had no qualms about calling up a group of La Speranza grunts to do the dirty work. The sound of footsteps heralded the arrival of Captain Brill before the man asked, "I got to say, I didn't expect a small cute thing like you to be the land pirate of Parsantium port. Vigilant for her prey, day after day, though none know why or who she's after. So, who is your target?" Samantha smiled up at Brill and said in reply, "If you know that much then you'd have heard the rest. 'It's always easier to catch one's prey when they're unaware of being stalked'." Noticing the last of the barrels being shown more care than flour required being moved to the wagon, Sam's smile turned into a frown as she gripped the butt of her pistol and asked sternly, "Only half?" Holding up his hands as if to ward off a blow, Captain Brill said, "Woah there. It's two barrels over half, and that's all we could get on short notice after the last shipment was impounded. I can confirm that the next shipment will be on time and complete, barring any snafus like what happened last time." Taking in a deep breath, Sam nodded with a sigh, "We were afraid of that. Well, until your next in port." With a jaunty half salute/waive, Sam walked away from Captain Brill, pigtails bouncing in time to her fast walk as she headed towards the crew that would be taking the load up the hill. Several were already sweating, and Sam grinned as she approached, "Don't worry so much. It's not like any of you would be stupid enough to get us all killed, would it?" Sam chuckled before following her crew, slowly making their way through the city.

STR: 14(-5 pts), DEX: 18(base 15(-7 pts) +2 Human +1 @4th level), CON: 14(-5 pts), INT: 10, WIS: 11(1 pt), CHA: 16(base 15(7 pts) +1 @8th level). | 25 point buy | Feats: Human) Weapon Focus (1-handed pistol), 1st level) Acrobatic, 3rd level) Kick Up, 4th level Swash.) Weapon Specilization(1-handed pistols), 5th level) Point-Blank Master, 1st level Fighter) Rapid Reload, 2nd level Fighter) Deft Maneuvers, 7th level) Quick Draw. | Other Feats: Precise Shot, Dazzling Display, Gun Twirling, Greater & Superior Dirty Trick, Dirty Trick Master. | Gear: Benefician Bandolier, Girdle of Delicate Moves, Buckler Gun?, x2) Bouble-Barreled Pistol, Mithral Shirt+?. | Inner Sea Pirate preresiquites: 5 ranks in Appraise, Profession(sailor) & Swim..

[Ziether]

Originally Posted by Silk

• I need clarification on if the Inner Sea Pirate Prestige Class is okay to use. ...or is it Deep Sea Pirate?
  It's only listed as other and not 3rd party on d20pfsrd and aonprd never says.

I've actually been using aonprd to look things ups and d20pfsrd to confirm that they are not 3rd party stuff but I've been finding several discrepancies between the two, like the Inner/Deep Sea Pirate thing, and frankly, it's annoying

I took a quick look, so I might be wrong, but those look like the same thing. d20pfsrd can't use Paizo's protected IP, so no referencing the names of Golarion's factions, characters, locations, deities, etc. "Inner Sea" is protected, and would have to be substituted.

[Silk]

ahh, so the same class different name for copyright reasons. kk

[triedtherest]

Originally Posted by Silk

ahh, so the same class different name for copyright reasons. kk

Exactly, just like the Guild Poisoner Prestige Class is the generic (non trademark) version of the Daggermark Poisoner.

[Preacherwolf]

Originally Posted by Silk

• I need clarification on if the Inner Sea Pirate Prestige Class is okay to use. ...or is it Deep Sea Pirate?
  It's only listed as other and not 3rd party on d20pfsrd and aonprd never says.

I've actually been using aonprd to look things ups and d20pfsrd to confirm that they are not 3rd party stuff but I've been finding several discrepancies between the two, like the Inner/Deep Sea Pirate thing, and frankly, it's annoying

It also looks like its still Paizo so its all good to use

[Ziether]

With the background of our characters as captains within the family and not the daily brute muscle, should characters who wear armor that is impractical for everyday city life expect to need an additional, lighter set of armor to wear around the city when not expecting trouble?

[Preacherwolf]

Originally Posted by Ziether

With the background of our characters as captains within the family and not the daily brute muscle, should characters who wear armor that is impractical for everyday city life expect to need an additional, lighter set of armor to wear around the city when not expecting trouble?

That's honestly up to you. A practical set of armor can help, especially if you want to go a more diplomatic route. Showing up to a meet in full war gear tends to sent the wrong message in that area. But then again some characters have a specific image they cultivate. For example the La Morte Families Underboss, The Butcher, is never seen outside of his Full Plate Armor.

[Ziether]

Originally Posted by Preacherwolf

That's honestly up to you. A practical set of armor can help, especially if you want to go a more diplomatic route. Showing up to a meet in full war gear tends to sent the wrong message in that area. But then again some characters have a specific image they cultivate. For example the La Morte Families Underboss, The Butcher, is never seen outside of his Full Plate Armor.

That's good food for thought. The imposing armor is a part of Jhoidha's image (she's supposed to be obscenely imposing), but something for purely diplomatic moments wouldn't be the worst thing.

[Seekr34]

My app is done

[AlphaZ]

My first draft is done as well.

[Imveros]

- Name:Lex "The Crumb" Penley Race: Human Age: Middle Age38 Alignment: L/N Class: Cleric / Asmodean Advocate Description: Lex, the earthly embodiment of, yeah, I bet he cleans up well. The man stands tall and lean on the rare occasions he isn't slouched over a pile of ancient tomes. Found frequently with dust and crumbs from long-forgotten meals in his beard and clothes, it doesn't take long to know why his peers refer to him as The Crumb. The cleric watches people over gold-rimmed glasses. The wrinkles on his clothes were almost as deep as the wrinkles under his eyes. Both are trophies of decades of sleepless nights dedicated to the study of the law, his only true love. You always dress to impress those you love, and in court, Lex is resplendent with sharply tailored suits and a collection of master-crafted powdered wigs. With a ruby-hilted dagger at his hip and a bulette leather attache case in hand, he is lord of the counsel tables. Background: Born to a life of squalor outside the walls of the poor district, Lex learned quickly that the strong eat and the weak starve. What amazed the boy was the disparity between those with social standing and those with physical power. Why did the burly sailor not snap the noble's neck? It was well within his ability, yet he cowered and scraped for the man's forgiveness. The answer? The one true power in the world, The Law. Life is a game, and games have rules. Know the rules better than your opponent, and you'll always win. Lex worked twice as hard, working the fields by day and learning his letters and numbers by night. He'd saved a season's earnings to buy a third-hand law book, and he fell in love. The following fall, a group of thugs came for their tribute. Lex's family resisted, and as the goblins beat his father, he shouted interest tables and legal definitions of usury to their assailants. A woman in a black cloak lined in red laughed and bartered with his parents for the boy in exchange for waving all current and future payments. He shook with fear as they hauled him into the city walls and tossed him into a dungeon. It was a room filled with more books than he could read in a lifetime. He looked on in wonder as a snake slithered up his leg and onto his shoulder. It whispered sweet nothings into his ear and told him it could all be his. All they would cost him was his soul. Power was finally his. The woman introduced him to a local businessman in need of constant legal services. This Don Speranza would pay his way through school and help set up his practice. In exchange, he'd help this poor persecuted goblin from the constant racism he faced as an up-and-coming business goblin. The Don not only provided the capital but also presented Lex with the most challenging court cases the city had ever seen. Who could ask for more? Over twenty years he'd built up his business and had his cabal of "business associates" as well as the ear of the don as one of his most trusted legal and financial advisors, however, Lex could feel the winds changing. The crown prince of crime was retiring and power abhors a vacuum. Now was the time for his three masters to shine. The Don, The Prince of Law, and The Law of Man would know new heights. He was ready to bet his life on it. The Line: If it's come to violence, you've already lost. He refuses to personally commit any acts of physical violence lest he admits that he's already lost the conflict. What do you, the player, want: I will be quite sad if I cant set up at least one Xanatos Gambit at some point. Beyond that, I'd just like to keep setting up the big brain plays. I'm also looking forward to how you'll be mixing dark humor in. RP Sample: Lex clapped his hands to gather everyone's attention. It was his turn to onboard the new legal clerks. "Make certain that everybody knows this. All of Parsantium is about appearance, and you're the one who's making Don La Speranza look good. When the family can't get by a bodyguard without bloodshed, you're the one who pulls out the bribe. When they need to speak to the matron who runs the Winking Vixen, you're the one who knows her name. When the villain of the story gets away scot-free, we're the ones that wrap him up in so much litigation he'll wish he was dead! Any thug can bump off a prosecutor, but here at Wyvern, Avanci, and Penley, we tie them up in red tape until they die of old age!." He tossed a disapproving stare toward the finely dressed woman watching them from the corner office, hoping his barb slid under the newbie's radars. Lex dismissed the fresh law students to their tasks and retreated to his private library. A new tome had arrived, and he couldn't wait to read it. He pushed yesterday's dinner or was it the day before's, out of the way and got back to his true love, his series of trists on ancestral torte reform as they apply to real estate consortium restructuring. "In witness whereof the parties hereunto have set their hands to these presents as a deed on the day month and year hereinbefore mentioned. Now, this is truly the work of The Lord of Laws." He said with a contented sigh and a mouthful of days-old sandwich.