[PF-1e] Blood and Guts

[LeoByron]

Originally Posted by mightymconeshot

Are we allowed to make our own casting tradition?

Yes:

Originally Posted by Spheres of Power Clarifications and Rulings

Custom Casting and Martial Traditions are allowed, subject to GM approval. The following guidelines should be adhered to when creating them:

Casting Traditions cannot have more than 7 General Drawbacks. Sphere-specific drawbacks do not count towards this limit. Casting Traditions MUST select a magic type. (Arcane, Divine, or Psychic).

Martial Traditions should follow the general format of existing martial traditions and must grant at least one talent from the Equipment Sphere. Martial Traditions should grant no more than 4 Spheres / talents total. It is possible for 1 of these to be a Feat.

[Battlechaser]

Would the necros be allowed? More specifically the necrotech savant. If not I’ll probably go Stitcher-scholar. Risen 50 years ago after being executed. Apparently performing experiments on your patients is frowned upon. They were so much improved with their grafts.

[LeoByron]

Originally Posted by Battlechaser

Would the necros be allowed? More specifically the necrotech savant. If not I’ll probably go Stitcher-scholar. Risen 50 years ago after being executed. Apparently performing experiments on your patients is frowned upon. They were so much improved with their grafts.

Necros is fine but Tech Sphere and Technician are banned. I will update the Sphere rules to reflect this.

[Grimmard]

Name: Ruktus Huller
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Fighter - (Two Handed Fighter)
Intended Role: Melee Damage Dealer
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Preferred Template: 1. Mummy Lord, 2. Grave Knight, 3. Death Knight

Gameplan:

 

Ruktus is seeking to destroy the settlement of Strathmoor entirely and return the land to his nomadic tribe that once claimed this land as part of their territory. He also has plans for personal vengeance on the shaman Mobrukk for betraying him and the one-eyed human wizard that paralyzed him and secured his fate. Ruktus doesn't know the wizard's name, only that he was working with the guards from Strathmoor when he was captured but his face is burned into Ruktus' memory.

Physical Description:

 

Height: 6'8"
Weight: 304lbs
Eyes: Red
Hair: Black

Ruktus is a sickly green skinned Half-Orc with pronounce tusks jutting from his square bottom jaw, giving him a chilling demeanor. His hide is coated with many small scars that cover his muscular frame that towers over most people at 6'8". He carries a blackened Greatsword with a wicked edge that he is able to handle the weapon with surprising speed. Ruktus wears a suit of midnight black full plate covered with spikes.

Background:

 

Ruktus was descended from a tribe of Orcs that once lived in this land before Strathmoor was founded. Ruktus' tribe of Orcs are a nomadic tribe known as the Bloodied Tusk and many years ago the land that Strathmoor is built on was part of their hunting lands. Strathmoor castle sits on top of an ancient ritual sit of the Bloodied Tusks that was once used to make sacrifices to the gods for battle. The legend says that once a mighty Warlord named Ruktus the Cruel used that very site to sacrifice an Orc shaman in order to appease Rovagug and aid in a battle against an Ogre tribe. After that battle the Bloodied Tusks took the surviving Ogres as slaves an eventually regrew their numbers.

Ruktus was raised from the Orc tribe and prophesied to lead the tribe in a war against Strathmoor that would return the land to the rightful owners, the Bloodied Tusks. He was named aft their champion Ruktus the Cruel and raised with the sole purpose of leading the upcoming war-band. Ruktus lived up to his name and grew bigger than the fellow Orcs of his tribe despite being only a half-blood. Ruktus gained strength and defeated the former chieftain in a battle to the death, securing his place as Chieftain and obtaining the Chieftain's Greatsword. Life was always brutal for Ruktus but his fury made him strong and he grew to be able to slay foes in a single slice of his wicked sword. Ruktus had a temper that kept most of the tribe on edge around him, making his position as a leader always a question that was often decided with duel to the death. Eventually the tribe stopped challenging him and accepted him as their leader, preperations for the prophesied war were followed after a few bountiful raiding seasons.

When the time came for the war-band to gather, Ruktus prepared the tribe and gathered led a preliminary celebration of war. The feast included many games and challenges amongst the clan but it was a way to rally the troops and set aside the difference of the races to focus on the destruction of Strathmoor. Ruktus' tribe included Orcs, Goblins, Worg Riders, Ogre Marauders, and even a few Winter Wolves, but alas the battle never came. Ruktus was betrayed by the tribe's shaman, Mobrukk, out of fear of being sacrificed and Ruktus was captured two days prior to battle Mobrukk lured him to a meeting to discuss the will of Rovagug for the battle where he set upon by twenty guardsmen and a powerful human wizard with only one eye. Ruktus never discovered the Wizards name but he still remembers his face.

[Rylus]

Name: Lucius Godwin
Race: Human; Apostle Kyton
Class: Omdura of Zursvaater 11
Intended Role: Damage dealer, Buffer, Battlefield Controller via minions once obtained)
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Spheres / Schools if i go this route it would be death and leadership most likely

 

Height: 6'2'' | Weight: 350 lbs
Age: 27 | Skin: Unnaturally tan
Hair: Red
Eyes: Black with silver rings around the iris
Usual Attire: Lamellar (Mithril) or flowing red/black robes

Standing at five foot seven and weighing a hundred and fifty pounds, Lucius is not an intimidating person. His ashen grey skin draws questioning looks from some but its more the multitude of scars all over his body. His eyes are black orbs that suck you in like the depths of the abyss could be found within. His shock white hair is cut short and spiked, though what he uses to keep it spiked is unknown.

He wears black robes with red trim and purple runes on the trim, usually silk or the best cotton available. The runes seem to be gibberish and over many different languages. When he goes out, even for a short walk, he wears his armor. A set of mithril Lamellar and a bone collar neck piece that he thinks will protect his neck. He always carries his gods favored weapon, a greatsword in its half-sheath upon his back. The weapon is well taken care of and at times it looks as if flames lick the blade.

 

Lucius is broken to put it bluntly, after he was brutally tortured to death and then risen as an apostle he believes with every fiber of his being that he has been reincarnated as a pathetic human and that his true form is that of a fire giant. He acts superior and haughty to most other races and often underestimates them as a result. He is not sure why, as he doesn’t remember anything but the pain from when he died, but he fears beings from the plane of shadow. If anyone proves they are worthy he will protect them to the best of his abilities, being worthy isn’t all that hard simply be a caster of some sort, be good with a weapon, or be able to speak with a silver tongue. He sees people like these as a way to get back his true form and rejoin his kin.

 

Lucius was born to a duke family which prided itself on producing knights to serve as the shield and blade of the kingdom, as such even at a young age Lucius was expected to become a knight. But the young Lucius didn’t want to be a knight, he wanted adventure, he wanted to explore the world. As he grew he realized that his chance of becoming an adventurer and exploring was growing slimmer by the year, his time was starting to be taken up with sword training, riding lessons, etiquette lessons, and history lessons to round him into a knight his family could be proud of. During this time Lucius grew more and more cynical and angry but he was able to hide it from his family. At his sixteenth birthday a party was held to announce him to the city lord and nobles, it went well at first until Lucius was offered a drink. He drank and drank and then drank some more the alcohol lowering his inhibitions and when his father made a toast to his son becoming a fine knight Lucius lost it and told his father that he did not want to be a knight and that he would not become a pawn of the city lord. This drew gasps from most of the nobles and his father turned pale when he realized the city lord had heard his son. Lucius didn’t care and stormed out onto the balcony to cool down. Ten minuets later he was joined by a young women who told him she thought his act of defiance was wonderful and he was very brave for being able to sand up for himself in front of so many powerful people. Needless to say the young Lucius was smitten with this young women, the first women he had met that was not either family or a servant.

The next year proceeded wonderfully for Lucius, his father left him alone as he was busy trying to smooth over any rough patches his son had created, and Lucius himself was courting the young women he had met at the party, Evangeline. The two of them would often sneak off on picnics and walks through the city, Lucius was truly in love. But Evangeline was not what Lucius thought, she worked for lord Demetrious and had been ordered to get close to the boy and asses if he would be a threat. She determined that through not only his actions but his words and way of getting people to see things his way that he was a threat. Lord Demetrious ordered Evangeline to convince Lucius to leave his house and become an adventurer, without his family name he was not a political threat and would not have the protection afforded to the noble family. She did as she was told and Lucius being young and in love threw his family name away and planned to elope with Evangeline but when he got to the place where they were supposed to meet he found an assassin instead. The hired man was nothing more than a street thug and Lucius dispatched him with ease and with his dying breath he said “My lord Demetrious, Evangeline I failed….im sorry.” Those words crushed Lucius heart and soul, how could he have been so blind?

He returned to his family’s house and was promptly thrown out, his father disowned him for being rebellious and willful. Seventeen, with a broken heart and no family Lucius didn’t know what to do so he stayed in town living on the streets taking odd jobs for little coin and spending that coin on a little food and a lot of drink. Several months later, now in tattered dirty cloths, he decided he would take revenge on all of them. He stole a sword, since he had sold his for booze money a month ago, and he rushed the gate of Lord Demetrious’ mansion where he was quickly taken down by the experience guards and thrown into a dungeon. The only thing that was truly bad about the dungeon was there no one to talk to. Two years in that place and it broke him slightly, he was talking to the shadows in the cell. The guards thought he had gone mad and let the head goaler know who told the chamberlain who told lord Demetrious. Puzzled Demetrious walked to the dungeons to see just who his chamberlain was speaking of and when he saw Lucius he smiled “Oh it’s you, and I have been slightly worried that you were going to try and get revenge, but you ended up here… how wonderful.” Lucius knew this man before him and like a rabid animal he lunged at the cell door screaming “Ill kill you! Ill kill you!” and he spit. The globule of spittle landed on the ground before Demetrious who only frowned looked to the guards and told them to execute Lucius.

Lucius was taken out of the cell and he started laughing, the guards called him mad again and then the shadows from every corner of the jail coalesced into two forms and rushed the guards. The guards only stopped for a moment as the shadows entered their bodies before they began dragging Lucious towards a wall and opening a portal. On the other side they tied Lucius down “As per our agreement, you were freed from the cell…now for our payment.” The shadowy figured said and the torcher began. Lucius didn’t know how long it went on, he begged for death but they would not give it to him. Cutting off bits and chucks of him and then healing the back and starting again.

The world went dark for a long time but this time when he awoke he was alone, untied and in a human body in a human city, How dare they treat a mighty fire giant like this, they would all pay…by Zursvaater they would pay. That was twenty five years ago but Lucius still looks twenty years old and has been making as many contacts with the darker side of the city to make friend to help him get revenge and return him to his glorious giant form.

 

He wants Demetrius dead, his family who abandoned him dead, Evaneline and her family dead, the regular citizen don’t matter to him they can live or die for all he cares. He wants to become a fire giant

[droobles]

@LeoByron besides the questions about if we can use oaths and martial contract, there is another one that came to mind after reading the templates again.

How do we deal with the Skeletal champion 2 extra racial HD? Is it a 13th level char with 2 extra racial HD, or is it an 11th level char with 2 extra racial HD?

[mightymconeshot]

Not my best app, but that is about the best I am going to be able to do before the deadline this Friday.

[LeoByron]

Originally Posted by droobles

Also, are we allowed to use oaths?

Also 2, is the martial contract optional rule available.

How do we deal with the Skeletal champion 2 extra racial HD? Is it a 13th level char with 2 extra racial HD, or is it an 11th level char with 2 extra racial HD?

No Oaths.

I don't know what Martial Contracts are. Including links can be very helpful.

I found Martial Contracts on the Wiki. We will not be implementing those.

All allowed races have no racial HD. They advance via class levels instead. Ignore the 2 extra racial HD since you have none to begin with.

[LeoByron]

Originally Posted by mightymconeshot

Not my best app, but that is about the best I am going to be able to do before the deadline this Friday.

Deadline is for throwing hat in the ring only. Extra time will be granted to complete.

I stop accepting newcomers as of deadline but I won't invite until a few are done.

[Battlechaser]

Kemet Name: Herr Doktor Kemet The double entendre: no sense of humor and no bodily liquidsHumourless Race: Kobold Lich Class: Scholar (stitcher) 11 Intended Role: Utilizing piecemeal reanimation, strange corpsecraft, parts and pieces and piecemeal animation to reanimate a bunch of bodyparts/grafts/flying undead monkey-chimera's to harass the enemy.- and wear them down. If all else fails, blow the undead up with either ghost strike or erratic destructive blast (to represent the lingering madness in Herr Doktor).Summoner, debuffer, minor damage dealer. Alignment: Chaotic Evil Spheres / Schools Death, Alteration, Enhancement, destruction, telekinesis   Height: 3’ 5 inches| Weight: 43 lbs Age: ? | Skin: Mottled pink scales Hair: None Eyes: Bright blue flames in pitch black orbital holes Usual Attire: Frazzled Lab coat, pink scales   One could describe Herr Doktor Kemet as cold, ruthless and efficient and one would be correct. Bedside manners were something for lesser physicians. He served a higher purpose and he knew it. And could you really call the little Kobold, while looking down his nose upon mere mortals, arrogant, when he was dead certain he was right? When he was by far the superior doctor who saved people when incompetent nincompoops failed. Herr Doktor Kemet was always calm and composed and his work was thorough and methodical. The main problem was the madness behind the methods.   To the good people of Strathmoor Herr Doktor Kemet was an arrogant little ****. One that could bring you back from the verge of death, but still haughty as a narcissistic peacock. He had worked miracles with patients his colleagues had given up upon. Off course, not all of them could be saved. Nurses comforted the relatives, as the bagged remains were wheeled past. The doctor had made a discovery years ago. Nobody checked if any parts were missing. Back to ancient times The remaining members of Kemet’s tribe - those that hadn’t been eaten by predators, sold into slavery by hobgoblins, died painfully after eating poisonous berries or by catching dysentery and shitting themselves to death - were murdered by a band of roaming adventurers. Life as a kobold is hard and a kobold’s body is intrinsically weak and inferior. Kemet had only survived this far by using his massive intellect and the fact that he was shunned and treated as a pariah due to the extraordinary bright pink colour of his scales. The adventurers never bothered to check the small decrepit hut at the edge of the forest, leaving Kemet as the sole survivor of his tribe. Picking his way through the remains of his village and his family - Uncle Ed’s arm here, Auntie Clara’s head staring right at him there - Kemet calmly studied the carnage and decided he would not end up like most kobold’s were destined to: practice targets. It would mean finding an alternate place and way of living. His chances of survival alone in this godsforsaken outback were virtually non-existent. The books he had took from straggling travelers who had been waylaid by his tribe mentioned the city of Strathmoor some distance to the southwest. A journey of considerable length. "Preparations are necessary." Kemet said to himself in a surprisingly deep and melodious voice for one as small as himself. He gave the matter some more thought. "A loyal bodyguard would increase the odds of arriving in good health." The kobold was used to talking to himself since the rest of his tribe had scurried away as soon as he entered, considering his pink color as an omen of a terrible curse on their family. In a way they were right. Terrible things had indeed happened, but not through Kemet’s fault. Looking around the ruins of his village, Kemet’s brain kicked into scavengermode. Like the rest of his species he reasoned that everything can be used, one just needed to find an appropriate use. His eyes fell on the corpse of the village’s worg, the supposed guardian of this place. "A reasonable starting point. It could use some improvements though. Something like..." Uncle Ed’s arm or Auntie Clara’s head. A wide grin revealed Kemet’s immaculately brushed teeth. It took him several weeks - in which he had already rationed the available food- and several failed tries before his bodyguard was deemed up to the task. Triumphantly, Kemet studied the stitched abomination. It looked as if Mary Shelley and Lovecraft had an intellectual lovechild. A centaur of worg and kobold parts, the worg-head topping a chest composed of crudely sewn hemithoraces. And in the center of that thorax lay Auntie Clara’s head, dormant for now until a proper use could be found. Uncle Ed’s arm had been complemented by that of the Chieftain, a powerful warrior - for a kobold. The entire process had also given him a hint about a suitable profession to ply when he arrived in Strathmoor. The journey was rather uneventful. The predators avoided Kemet’s undead companion, whom he had named Hodor. Riding it was difficult. Something in the reanimation process had altered the worg’s gait into a more ungainly loping. It worked for the beast itself, but absolutely wreaked havoc on Kemet’s thin buttocks. Still, it helped him gather the necessary funds to start his own surgery. So, that was the time that Herr Doktor Kemet emerged in Strathmoor’s medical world. First in the poorer quarter of town where a low-cost pill popper could get some more experience. It was also here that he noticed that nobody asked for the amputated hands, arms or legs to be buried with the rest. An observation stored for later use. Mouth to mouth worked splendidly to spread his reputation. His techniques were considered unconventional by some and radical innovative by other, but all his colleagues agreed that they worked beter than expected. As his reputation grew, so did the richness of his clientèle allowing Kemet to expand his surgery to a full hospital. Off course, with a dedicated room for further research. In the end it was that research that got him executed. Strathmoor and its retarded ruler were not ready for Herr Doktor Kemet’s mind blowing innovations, seeking to take one’s body and improve it with parts that were no longer needed by their original owners. The bloody angel did not even listen to reasonable arguments like "With those spiderlegs he move at greater speed and even climb vertical surfaces." It was to no avail. Kemet was succinctly sentenced to death by beheading. He would have appreciated the clean cut the executioner made if he was still alive. Time passed. Worms ate away the softer parts of the kobold’s body. He wasn’t bothered. He wasn’t even there. Until suddenly he was. Something happened 50 years ago that sucked his soul back into his decaying form. Clawing his way up through the mud, Kemet relived the last parts of his life in his mind. He knew that he could not just reinstate himself into his former position. Another suitable locale must be found. And then the test subjects.   Demetrius is but an obstacle in Kemet’s grand plan. Like the fact that his creations this far were not up to standard. He can’t remember how much of them he had blown up in a fit of justified rage. For him the town is like a giant guinea pig farm waiting to be experimented upon.

[AlphaZ]

As an Apostle Kyton, should my character have died at some point like the rest? Should they have the undead subtype?

[LeoByron]

Originally Posted by AlphaZ

As an Apostle Kyton, should my character have died at some point like the rest? Should they have the undead subtype?

You are horribly tortured to death as part of the transformation and rise as an Apostle shortly after. There should be no great time lapse and you are not Undead. See the linked template for details.

[triedtherest]

If the Zombie/Skeleton Lords are both Level 13 and have two racial hit dice on top of them, does that mean they are 15 Hit Die creatures/characters?

[LeoByron]

Originally Posted by triedtherest

If the Zombie/Skeleton Lords are both Level 13 and have two racial hit dice on top of them, does that mean they are 15 Hit Die creatures/characters?

No.

None of the allowed base races have racial hit dice at all and instead advance by class level, therefore, they cannot benefit from any bonus racial HD. Ignore the text about bonus racial HD for those templates.

[Admin Dirk]

Lyss is complete enough for consideration.