[PF-1e] Fall of Eldir

[triedtherest]

Yasir bin Estefan - Merchant Prince Name: Yasir bin Estefan Race: Human Gender: Male Class: Unchained Rogue (Phantom Thief) 10 (Will be Taking Noble Scion if he gets to 11th) Chosen Shrine: Simorgh the Wind Guardian - Air Character Sheet: Character Sheet Party Role: Skill User, Mercantile Resources, Non-magical Support/Debuffing, Through Healers Hands Feat and the Heal Skill UnlockNon-magical Healing. Diplomat. Physical Traits: A physically plain-looking, if extravagantly dressed, Human from the sandy Dune-lands, close to the border of the Known/Unknown Lands. He is well into his middle years, so there are now ever increasing patches of grey in his formerly dark hair and beard, and after a few years of too much good living, he is starting to look a little portly (a victim of his own success perhaps). Mental Traits: While his looks are plain, his wits are sharp, and few are the people who can beat him at the Negotiations Table! Despite his former insistence that he has retired from Adventuring (which he said with a twinkle in his eye) he was almost overeager at the prospect of risking his plump hide in a desolate hole once again. After the treatment his father received, he holds a personal hatred of all forms of Slavery. Background: •Born into a wealthy family, which ran into debt after his father allowed the family business to fail while heartbroken from the death of his wife. •Turned to Adventuring in order to restore (and eventually expand upon) his family's fortune, as well as to save his father from indentured servitude at the hands of the corrupt and greedy Caliph of Surrahkeen, Yasir's home town. •Saved a devotee of Simorgh the Wind Guardian from slavery and helped her re-establish the Divine Beast's Sacred Shrine, earning him her and Simorgh's gratitude. When the devotee died a few years later, Yasir was chosen to take her place. •Engaged in a lengthy crusade against the Caliph (who was eventually revealed to be a Rakshasa), with the help of a band of thieves and Adventurers, who called themselves "The Golden Band", eventually overthrowing the Caliph, who they replaced with one of their number, an illegitimate Child of the Real Caliph (before he had been murdered and replaced by the Rakshasa). •Used the profits from his Adventuring days to pay off his family's debt, release his father (who had been sold on to a distant Merchant, but who was now in debt himself), and establish a new family business, that was even larger than the original, with branches in most of the major towns, and even in the City of Eldir itself! •Lives with his Father in his impressive Mansion (called Dunkillin), and pays for all of the living expenses for them both.   Amulet of Proof against Detection and Location ( 16,625 GP) Cloak, Prestidigitator's (8,170 GP) Headband of Vast Intelligence +6 (17,100 GP) Handy Haversack (950 GP) Mithral Chain Shirt (1,100 GP) MW Dagger x2 (604 GP) MW Buckler (155 GP) Expensive Merchant Clothes (100 GP) MW Thieves Tools (100 GP) Always Prepared/Brilliant Planner Fund (1000 GP) Mansion - 5,160 GP Large MW Merchant Business (Rank 1) - 6250 GP Manager - Steward (For the Mansion) 2 GP/day - paid for 30 days (60 GP) Extravagant Lifestyle (1,000 gp/month) - 2000 GP Paid to support both Yasir and Estefan for the first month   RP Sample: Yasir paced nervously, this was his last chance to turn his families fortunes around, and first Meets were always a nerve-wracking affair, especially in a new city. This Gang Leader, Jerek...Something, had a particularly nasty reputation and he was far away from his home-turf. "We did say an hour after Twilight?" He questioned, not for the first time. "Relax!" Said his guide, Safira, also not for the first time. "He'll be here!" He looked at the people he'd brought/bought along, all at Safira's urging, then glanced at "The Crate". "That's easy for YOU to say!" Returned Yasir, testily. "You are not the one who is trying to flog a bunch of Black Market Toxins in a disused Warehouse, in a Strange Town to a known Killer. If this goes South then you can just leg it. If this Jerek takes exception to me, I'm dead. If he decides to take it without paying for it, then I have to explain this to my Backers at home...!" He shuddered. Pops will be furious! He continues. "And I don't care if you say the Guard turn a blind eye or not, they could easily take exception to an out of towner, and arrest me. Then I would likely spend years in jail!" Safira shakes her head. "No jail...? EXECUTION!" He gasps. Nods. "Oh perfect! The things I do for coin!" "You whine alot, Mister Binestevan..!" Jerek had arrived. That's...that's not how you say my name! Thought Yasir, wearily, but he was not about to start correcting the dangerous Thug! "...And you would not believe some of the things that I have done for coin!" ""Jerek" I presume?" Says Yasir with a raised eyebrow. His eyes flick over the men with Jerek. Good! Roughly equal numbers on both sides, so he's less likely to start something here. Jerek nods, then indicates the crate. ""My Goods" I presume!" "That depends..." Says Yasir. "...you brought the coin?" At a motion from Jerek, a man brings out a small chest and opens it up. Yasir makes a quick estimate in his head, smiles, then opens up the crate. He holds his hand out in a dramatic fashion, over the crate. Jerek looks at the contents from where he's standing. "Hmm! Yes, I will be able to make a profit on this. Who made all of this?" "His Father!" Said Safira, pointing at Yasir. Yasir frowned, he was trying to keep any trace of this deal leading back to his Father, so he hadn't wanted this information to be known, at least not to this fellow! "Excellent!" Said Jerek. "Well done, Sister." ""Sister...?"" Said Yasir in surprise. CHNK! Around a dozen weapons of various descriptions were drawn at once, and all were being pointed at Yasir. "Like I said: "MY Goods" Mister Binestevan!" Sneered Jerek. "Perhaps..." Said Yasir, he knew he was sunk, but there was one thing left... "Do you know much about my family, the...er, Binestevan's? No? We have a phrase, sort of a Family Motto, it goes: Non Proficies Infortunio Meo." It means..." ""You Shall Not Profit From My Misfortune"." Translated Jerek automatically. "Wait! What..!" A flick of Yasir's wrist, and a flask appears in his hand, the one he held above the crate, and that Flask contained... "Alchemists Fire! NO...!" Too late, Yasir dropped it into the open crate. There was a Wmph! and a blast of heat and, the goods were ash in seconds! The goods were gone, and Yasir had used the flash to disappear. There was an angry cry: "BINESTEVAAAAN!" Cohort WIP Name: Estefan bin Abadard Race: Human Class: Alchemist 8 Party Role: Support, Crafter, Healer, AoE Damage Physical Traits: Overweight, bald, dress for comfort instead of for appearance, Mental Traits: Loving life after a lengthy period of enforced servitude. He is both fiercely proud and protective of Yasir, and seems eager to support him in his endeavours, whether it involves business or his more dangerous adventures. He tries to set his Yasir up with any available woman of marriageable age, in a desperate attempt to see his son married before he passes. This, along with Estefan's almost constant "Dad-jokes", are wearying to Yasir, but he puts up with it as he is just grateful to have his father back at last. Background: Yasir's Father, was devastated after the death of his wife, neglected his business, and got heavily into debt. Eventually, the moneylenders ended up taking everything he owned. After everything was gone, the "Caliph's" Tax Collectors came calling, demanding he pay based on his previous wealth. He had nothing, so he was forced to "Work off his debt" to the Caliph. Eventually, his "debt" was sold on to a Merchant from a different town, so he didn't learn of the unmasking and defeat of the Caliph until his son, Yasir, came for him. It was a tearful reunion, and Estefan could scarcely believe the change in Yasir, as well as everything he had endured and achieved. He went back to Yasir's new home and business, and was astonished by everything. This was a level of luxury and economic success that Estefan had never reached. His son lived in a MANSION, servants were on hand to bring them anything they desired, and the Family Business reached as far as the Capital! Estefan could retire and live out his remaining years in peace and comfort, but he would have felt that he owed it to his son to support him however he could. He crafts items for the business or that he thinks his son might find useful, and accompanies him whenever he hoes somewhere dangerous. Cohort Character Sheet   "The Magic Carpet" - Large Animated Object (5937 GP, 5 SP) Yasir and Estefan use this as transport over long distances, rather than as a guard.

[Admin Dirk]

Name: Aisha Tanzi Azaridad
Race: Changeling
Class: Witch
Chosen Shrine: Air
Party Role: Debuffer/Battlefield Control

 

Aisha Tanzi Azaridad is a tall, gaunt woman. She stands nearly six foot tall, and has almost a skeletal look to her sharp features. Long delicate fingers grace a dancer's body, and her features are delicate, yet stark...not pretty in any sense, like a stone statue carved out but not sanded smooth, all angles and sharp edges. Her flowing robes, fashion from the nomadic tribes she grew up in, cover the awkward angles and joints that show beneath her sinewy frame. Her skin is the color of creamed qahveh, or qahveh baa shir in the tongue of the nomads. A thin streamer of ribbon ties her hair in place, and ties around her head in a simple headband as well. Small pearls hang suspended from the headband, bouncing gently as she walks. Were it not for the taming of the ribbon, her mane appears to be ready to spring from her head in every direction.

She wears a wide leather belt with metal studs embedded, decoratively. Leather gloves, thin and supple, cover her hands. A small dagger is strapped to her belt, and a smaller bootknife peeks from the top of her boot. A necklace of some type, heavy with pendant, hangs around her neck, covered by the collar of her blouse. She carries a backpack strung over one shoulder, easily, as if it had little weight.

 

Aisha is methodical, practical, and studious. During her time as a slave, she was forced to become cool and calm, and hide her true emotions. She can seem to be somewhat removed from the events of the now, as she tends to think of actions, and events, more in terms of their impact in years, or decades. She rarely gets ruffled or flustered, and prefers to think first before acting, picking among the best choices for outcomes. She is aware of the prejudices that come with past, and does her best to avoid adding fuel to their fire. In fact, she strives to counter them with acts of kindness, although even these are seen as hollow or with suspicion.

A pious individual now, Aisha prefers to think before she acts, and never act out of emotion, especially anger. She is, whether she likes it or not, a role model, an envoy of Simorgh. Most around her think her cold calculating, a touch judgemental; rather impersonal, an ice queen. However, these same qualities help her to be an excellent judge over disputes, a duty to which she is frequently called. The same emotional detachment also serves her well in her other duties for the church, the removal of church enemies.

She has no real friends, although those who work with her do find that she is loyal and faithful to her beliefs and allies. Aisha is not unfriendly, she simply has high standards of behavior that many feel uncomfortable being around. She is a woman of her word, and her bond is carefully given. She defends the younger and weaker, the innocent and righteous. She is a powerful enemy of injustice and evil, wherever it exists. She is also very practical about her methods, and while she holds honor and order above all else, she is not so bound to those ethos that she loses sight of the true goal, that justice prevails.

 

It was far after her childhood that Aisha was born, or at least, the Aisha Azaridad that exists today was re-born. The fifth child of seven in the family of a farmer, Aisha grew up in the town of Yadimen, in the Zarem desert. She was the second of two sisters, and much more the tomboy of the pair. Growing up with five brothers, Aisha felt more akin to them than her sister. While Agnessa mended worn clothing, Aisha hunted rabbits and pergga in the hot desert sun, or farmed with her father and brothers. Agnessa cooked the rabbits and pergga each night that Aisha had trapped and caught that day. Laundry duties were split between the two as well, Agnessa doing the cleaning, drying and folding half of the chore, Aisha more often than not gathering the precious brush and dried manure to keep the water fire boiling. Cutting, hauling, feeding animals in the warm summers and frigid cold winters left the girl a strong, whipcord lean figure. Fighting and competing against her brothers left her wily and well crafted in the rough and tumble world of the deserts.

Times in Yadimen were harsh, however, and a poor farmer could not readily feed a family of nine. And so, when a tribe of desert nomads came through, the family did what was unthinkable to many, but a fact of life to many struggling farmers: they sold their youngest daughter to Sheik Mustaf al-Alim, who took her for a slave.

Aisha spent two difficult years in their clutches as they traveled across Tiyarde. She was, in the world of the desert nomads, a semurgge, an outsider, an un-clanned. Her service during the days was menial, and often abusive, a virtual slave to the women of the wagons, set to do every chore they wished to not sully their hands with. She was tied, chained, and whipped throughout her days services. Clanless, she had no protectors. She withdrew inside herself, and endured those years with numbness.

She sought solace in The Birth of Air and Light, the Holy book of Simorgh the Wind Guardian, and it was there that she found a place to escape, to send her mind while her body toiled. Her prayers to Simorgh, to relieve her, to rescue her, or at least, to grant her the release of death as a final peace, kept her sane during the long nights of traveling with her captors. She sought comfort in the patience of the Wind Guardian.

After two years, the Sheik sold her to pesh merchants, who took her first to Harall, then across the inner sea to Pkatehes. She spent the next six months in relative peace. She was still a slave, however, but her work load eased. She no longer slept under the wagons, nor fought the dogs for scraps of food. However, she still longed for her escape, and she seized her chance, and ran. During Gaol Parade, she initiated her plan, and escaped. It was, perhaps, the worst possible time to try such a thing, but it was the time she chose.

Seeking refuge and asylum in the temple of Simorgh, Azaridad was given succor. Her wounds were cared for and healed, the physical ones, at least, by the brothers and sisters there. Her mental wounds would take much longer. However, the laws of the Council of Pkatehes were strict, and not even the church of the Wind Guardian were immune from their influence, and so, once she was healed, Aizha was turned over to the authorities, and jailed.

However, the high priest Ulum Abdin Salaam spoke quietly on her behalf, and her time in prison was tempered, however slightly. After a year, she was released back to the Church, at least overtly, and placed in the care of Ulum Abdin Salaam. It was there she began her second calling as an Ashiftah, a holy defender of the church and shrine. Eventually, this led her to be called as a champion of the shrine, and make the pilgrimage to Eldir routinely.

 

Aisha took a bite of the too salty food, and gently spit it back out on her plate. Had she been in the presence of greater people, she might have done so more demurely. Instead, she simply lifted the small plate to her lips, and pushed the partially eaten lump back onto the plate.

She looked around the room, and let her eyes fall on the kinderkin. Childish, immature games, she thought. It was the first trick, and the most over-used trick, in the mage schools when the young cubs learned their first magics. Setting a small fire on ones feet, and salting every morsel of food and drink were the bane of first year classes. Weak masters indulged such things among their charges.

The changeling sipped some of her tea to wash the salt away. It was similar in the slave markets, and among the first of the iron-rings. The difference was, the habits lasted far longer among the elite, money born who could afford a mage school or scholar. In the slave markets, salting your master's food was a trick you did once. The bravest, or those who were ready to end their life of servitude, did it twice.

She shook her head. Infantile. And he looks the most infantile of them all. Among the iron-rung, in fact, it became a quick habit to check the food prior to serving it, because an annoyed cook, or upset servant, could also salt it as easily by mundane means as arcane, and the iron-ringed would bear the suffering and wrath of it from the master. It was a lesson that also typically only took once to learn.

Aisha locked the information away in her head. Revenge was a dish best served with planning and aforethought. A glance at Garavel, and at the others, told her what she needed to be reminded of. They would frown and object if I killed the half-man for his childish games. It might also be a bit of an over-reaction, she told herself. Pettiness doesn't become your goals.

The others blathered on, reciting history and politics that she cared little about. [I]These people killed the Hoskish King?[i] she marveled. Really? This group?

Oh, there was no doubt each were talented in their way, she thought as she looked them over. The woman warrior carried herself with a determination and grace that spelled professionalism, and the one calling himself the Baron seemed comfortable enough with his skin, even the little extra of it he carried, to be deadly. The little one, the scoundrel, likely had his talents too.

Individually, they seemed competent enough to manage their lives. But together? They seemed to be a fractious bunch, and Aisha wondered how the woman had not yet sliced the outrageous facial hair off the munchkin yet. Or how the woman had not killed the Baron. Or...

She drew a deep breath. The warrior had asked her a question, but the conversation had moved long past. And, the changeling felt it was likely a question she didn't want answered anyhow, or knew the answer to anyway. So Aisha simply pinched a little salt from the bowl when it was proffered, and placed it between her lip and gum. She had a sore spot there already, and she sucked in slightly as the pain washed over here. It hurt, but she knew the pain would lessen, and it would feel good when it did.

[Runetide]

Originally Posted by Ermine

It looks like the previous alchemist mentioned in Searubus's RP sample died and Thranodyne replaced them. That would make a good RP sample for you, @Runetide~

From what I have figured, there are a number of holders of the title over the ages, he could have been a historic figure that he was referring to as an anecdote. But I will certainly keep it in mind while finishing my application.

[DebiRedHair]

Character Concept Name: Majet Songwarbler Race: Human Class: Skald (Ancestral Warrior) Chosen Shrine: Vulcan the Forgemaster (Metal) Party Role: Melee combat; Combat support; Storyteller. Face. Physical Traits: Majet is short, only 5'2" tall, slender and moves with the grace of a dancer. She has red hair and large green eyes and, at first appears to be gentle and caring. When in battle, she changes and her strength and martial ability come to the fore. Singing rousing battle songs, she fights in the front rank using her greatsword, and the sight of her slim figure engaging with larger foes brings out the protective feelings in her allies. Mental Traits: Majet is an inspiring person to be around. She is always happy to tell tales of the world she was born into and of those who came before her. The fact that she loves nature, and is inquisitive about all forms of knowledge means that she constantly records the things she sees. She uses these elements to create stories that inspire those around her. She has a song for every situation; and a situation in which to sing every song. She is a natural leader, and this allows her to lead without using the authority of her position. She inspires those around her and people do things the way she likes them done out of respect rather than fear. Background: Majet was raised deep in the forests by her mother, who had settled to live and work with an nature priest and act as the local smith. Her father was not a subject which came up much, he had died before her birth and she knew he had been a leader of the Clan of the Forge but little else. When she was young, she explored the surrounding woods learning a wide range of things about nature, magic and stories of people and places. Yet, there was a dark side to her and she became enraged when others did not treat nature with the respect she expected them to. She learned the art of smithing from her mother, enjoying making wind instruments in particular, and with her skills in the use of weapons, and her clear leadership ability, she was initiated a local clan, becoming a battle shamen. News of her passion for knowledge and ability as a warrior spread, and one day a stranger arrived to speak to her mother. When she left her home, aged 13, with Rhys Hornbeak the legendary hero of the Forge Clan, she thought it was only to be trained by him at the Shrine. She did not realise that she had been chosen to be the next bearer of Foeslasher, a greatsword said to have been made by Vulcan himself, or that her father had been the bearer before Rhys. Rhys took her to the shrine where she was trained learning more battle skills and also the legends and songs of the Clan. When Rhys was killed in battle, he passed the sword onto her and a new partnership was formed. Majet has spent the past 8 years serving the Shrine as a Champion, and the tales of her adventures add to the glory of the greatsword and the Forge Clan. She lives for those moments when she can sing songs of glory and throw herself into battle, and her life is given to the service of the Clan. She is guided by an old adage that Rhys taught her. There is no such thing as a piece of useless information. Just information whose time has not yet arrived. Personality: Majet has an insatiable curiosity which leads her to ask questions and stick her nose into things that are not necessarily her business. She loves to entertain, and will take any opportunity to do so. She is a talented performer and uses magic to enhance her performance whenever she can. She loves knowledge of all types but particularly legends. She has a fascination with the cultures that produce the sagas she learns and performs. She has a passion for following ideas and lines of enquiry through and likes to investigate issues until she finds a solution, and knows the underlying cause. Her mind flits from one idea to the next and this can seem chaotic to those around her but it is her ability to draw conclusions from widely different facts that is her greatest strength. She is also capable of being very quiet and absorbed when she is focusing on a subject, either written or in person. She enjoys reading, or listening to others, and will sit quietly and ask incisive questions to get to the nub of an issue. She has few friends. Rhys knew her better than most and, apart her parents, is the only individual she has personal ties to. Most observers see her as a chatterbox entertainer rather than the committed warrior and scholar that she is in reality. Maybe the Red hair and green eyes set in a sweet face help them to this conclusion; or maybe it is the fact that she never takes herself too seriously. RP Sample: The enemy were forming up at the base of the ridge on which the Forge Clan stood. In the centre of the line on the ridge, a group of large warriors, well armoured and carrying halbards, stood around a shorted, slim figure in a fine breastplate, and carrying a greatsword in a harness across her back. Red hair peaked from beneath the figure's helm, and bright eyes looked down on the foe. This was clearly the leader of the Forge Clan warriors; the larger warriors stood back from the figure in respect leaving them to prepare themselves for the battle to come. Majet looked down at the enemy, and then along the lines of clansmen on either side of her. The Clan were outnumbered 3 to 1, but had height advantage. Their charge would be multiplied while the archers would be able to outshoot the enemies. A grim smile played across her face as images of the past scanned across her mind. Aged 13, sparring with Rhys outside her mothers house. Aged 15, leaving the shrine armoured for war to fight alongisde Rhys for the first time. Aged 18, watching the giant foe cutting Rhys down and the greatswird being held out to her. The feeling of completeness as she grasped the hilt and cut down the foe and of despair that Rhys has gone. Aged 21, being hailed by the Clan after a great victory against the orcs. Aged 26, looking up at the man she loved, and who stood behind her now. Last night, sitting around the campfire with her clansmen singing songs and telling tales to keep their morale up and prepare them for battle That thought brought her back to the present. Her hands rose and drew Foeslasher from its scabbard. The great sword flashed in the sunlight as it came to rest across her shoulder and the smile on her face changed. Her face lit up and the beam reached her eyes. This is her purpose. To fight and lead the Clan in battle. She gestures and her companions form a wedge behind her and the movement brings all the Clan of the Forge into their battle positions. She pauses and then starts to sing, and as she does the rest of the Clan join her. " "The Lord of the Forge, he needed servants, He formed a Clan from steel and mesh, Honour and Loyalty, give us presence Clan of the Forge, Bull's flesh Stand and fight with all your might! " As the song continues, she draws on the powers given to her by Vulcan and grows in size, the growth giving her a more bull like appearance as well as doubling her height. She bellows at the enemy then waves her sword in the signal for the archers to open fire. After 5 volleys of arrows have flown, she starts to trot forwards and to sing of the Legend of Foeslasher. As the wedge moves down the hill, she summons the rage of the Lord of the Forge and builds it into her song. Spirits start to fly around her just before she hits the enemy line and then the slaughter starts. Foeslasher swings in great arcs, cutting through foes who are already damaged by the spirits that fly around her, and it rips limbs from warriors, soon making a hole in the line of foes. Brave warrior charge Majet, but her speed and awareness mean she cuts them down. After a minute in which 20 warriors and one of their champions falls to the mighty blade, the song she sings changes and the enemy feel that their doom is upon them. Terror catches hold and they begin to buckle before they run, followed by the Clan's less armoured warriors who harry them as they flee. Majet stops singing, and her size reduces. Another chapter in the Legend of Foeslasher is complete. The Clan of the Forge have another victory.

[Dark Asterisk]

I love the interest and level of work put into the applications so far!!! Thank you all!

*I may have let out a little squee seeing such awesome applications for my little ole game.*

[Runetide]

Originally Posted by Dark Asterisk

I love the interest and level of work put into the applications so far!!! Thank you all!

*I may have let out a little squee seeing such awesome applications for my little ole game.*

I'm still working on the build, gear, etc. But I think I have the basics of the character done. I may expand on the narrative and the background a bit later. I'm totally up for feedback along the way, though!

[triedtherest]

Originally Posted by Runetide

I'm still working on the build, gear, etc. But I think I have the basics of the character done. I may expand on the narrative and the background a bit later. I'm totally up for feedback along the way, though!

I have mine partially underway as well, though there is only so much I can do without ability scores.

[Runetide]

Originally Posted by triedtherest

I have mine partially underway as well, though there is only so much I can do without ability scores.

I used the racial bonuses and the ones granted by the totem beast, but am otherwise at baseline as well. I'll know *better* what my character is capable of once we know what the stat generation will be. With how bonkers epic the character design space is, I hope it's something equally fun!

I'm actually all done now, except for the ability scores. Gear's purchased, etc. I'm going to be doing a LOT of fire damage...

[Dark Asterisk]

I've decided to go with the following array for ability scores: 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13.

[Ermine]

O.O I won't complain. Wasn't expecting Kahina's strength to be as high as it will be, but that fits what I have written I guess~

[Runetide]

Originally Posted by Dark Asterisk

I've decided to go with the following array for ability scores: 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13.

Yeah that's perf. :P

[Ermine]

What about cohort stats? I've never had a cohort before. ^//^

[Dark Asterisk]

Champions are champions. They are far more gifted than those around them. That, and the dangers you'll be facing. You'll need more than swords and spells to get past some of the challenges. I'm looking forward to seeing what happens.

Cohorts will use 25 point buy for abilities.

[Runetide]

I realized after collecting all the shrine bonuses that I'm also now a seriously good healer. I dig it.

I think I'm done now. My character has his stat block up, which if you have any thoughts on I'll gladly hear it.

[Admin Dirk]

Originally Posted by Runetide

I'm actually all done now, except for the ability scores. Gear's purchased, etc. I'm going to be doing a LOT of fire damage...

Wow... you purchased gear for a 10th level PC?

and some of the rest of you all have statted them up part way too?


Y'all have more energy for this stage of an application than I have.. 10th level is a big work up for me.. feats, skills, and scores is a day or more, gear is at least two days.

Wow. I am Impressed.