[PF-1e] The Iron Gods

[Ultharian Cat]

Super interested! I'm thinking of doing something along the lines of a barbarian/druid/cleric of the green faith, who was sent by her order to see if a place could be found for the technological creatures of Numeria within the natural order. I'll work on getting an app up shortly

WIP App   Name: Tarathiel Sylvas and Bramble Race: Elf Class: Druid (Treesinger) Campaign Trait: Against the Technic League Appearance: Tarathiel is of average height for an elf. Her long blonde hair is tied back in a long ponytail with braided roots and twigs. Her slender figure is garbed in what appears to be foliage, intricately designed into clothing. Her companion, Bramble, is a sapling treant. His wooden body is covered with small growths of fungus and leafy branches sprout from his head. The small plant creature is still young, for a treant, and only stands about half as tall as Tarathiel. Personality: Tarathiel often seems distracted, staring off into the distance lost in thought for long periods of time. When required to be present she is diplomatic and attempts to maintain neutrality in her dealings, preferring to stick to the facts at hand and rarely getting emotional. She has incredible patience, and finds beauty in simple elements of nature such as the way a fly buzzes through the air, or the way sunlight glints off a puddle. Bramble is less patient, having a curiosity that comes with his relative youth that can often get him into trouble. Backstory: Tarathiel has been a member of the Green Faith for as long as she can remember, which is a very good long time. She traveled far and wide in her youth, living a peaceful nomadic lifestyle planting and tending to groves of trees. More recently, she joined with a group of Green Faith members in the Worldwound and fought with them to push back the demonic forces from some of the groves she planted when she was younger. Tara's peaceful attitude was challenged to the point of breaking from the things she saw and experienced in the Worldwound and for a long time after she would sit in meditation for months or even years at a time, simply listening to the discussions in the Green Faith conclave. When the conclave began to discuss sending a party to Numeria to do battle with some of the technological 'abominations' coming from that strange place, Tarathiel broke out of her stupor and spoke up. Androids and robots may not be plants or animals but nor are they demons, she argued, and before a crusade against them should be decided on, more information should be gained. If these creatures and technology can find a place in the natural order, they should be allowed to co-exist. The conclave begrudgingly agreed, though they informed Tara they would not wait long for her report, and ordered her to bring Bramble, an obnoxious treant sapling, with her. This was partly for Tara's protection, and partly to rid the conclave of two irritating members at once. RP sample: (Coming Soon!)

[Togot]

@ Exhibit A
Yes I'm allowing unchained classes. stats will be rolling 2d6+6 seven times and dropping the lowest.

@ XQbitor
I'll allow the race. early firearms are allowed and later you';ll even find ray guns. yes to background skills and the feat fix.

@ CatCanCook
Not super strict, but a simple google search of core or advanced races or classes should tell you which are in those books. An Empiricist Investigator is OK

[Fyre2387]

It's technically from the Advanced Class Guide, but would you be okay with an Ecclesitheurge cleric?

[Togot]

yes

[Exhibit A]

Patina Name: Patina Race: Android Class: Unchained Rogue (Numerian Scavenger) Campaign Trait: Robot Slayer Appearance Somewhat more alien in appearance than most androids, Patina has difficulty passing for a human except at a fair distance or in poor light. Her skin and hair are both a muddled metallic blue, which, along with the prominent circuit tattoos on her face, is a dead giveaway that she is something other than human. On the occasion that she encounters an associate of the Technic League or others that may cause issues, she tends to keep her distance and conceal herself under a full-length cloak, although once or twice she has managed to pass herself off as an undine or other extraplanar hybrid. Personality Despite the lack of emotion typical of her race, Patina is not what you would call cold or uncaring. She makes a deliberate effort to be open and compassionate, sometimes struggling due to her difficulty empathizing on an emotional level. She tends to ask rather blunt questions to understand a person’s emotional state, sometimes to the point of rudeness. She doesn't intend to cause offense, she is just innately curious and has difficulty understanding where the line is. Although many in Numeria view all artificial beings as essentially the same, she does not think very highly of robots, nor does she feel any particular kinship with them. They may be intelligent, but it is the intelligence of a well-built machine; bound by their programming, they can think but not truly make decisions for themselves. Most importantly, unlike androids, they do not possess souls; for this reason, Patina views herself and her race as closer to biological life than to the metal constructs that roam Numeria. Backstory Patina’s life began about four years ago, deep within a cavern in Numeria. A group of archaeologists and adventurers seeking hidden technological secrets found her pod and opened it. Fortunately for Patina, one of their number was another android, named Connor, who was able to assist her through the difficult first moments of life. She traveled with the group for a time as they traveled Numeria, learning from Connor and the others about her homeland and other lands beyond, while also developing the skills she would need to take care of herself. As androids tend to, she learned quickly, and soon proved an asset to the party, having a seemingly innate talent for handling the advanced technological dangers that littered the region. Eventually, though, the group left Numeria to seek opportunities in other lands. Patina was tempted to go with them, but decided to part ways and remain in her homeland. Others might have called it a fear of the unknown or homesickness, but Patina did not experience such emotional influences. What drove her to stay was instead her determination to understand herself. Whatever there was to learn about the origins and purpose of androids, it would be found here in Numeria. Unable to let go of the chance of finding such secrets, she elected to say goodbye to her friends. Wanting to avoid the attention of the Technic League, Patina kept to herself, wandering southern Numeria alone looking for interesting bits of ruined technology. She didn’t have the skills to make use of any of the salvage she found, instead bringing anything that may be of value to the town of Torch and selling it to locals or visiting adventurers. Some of the inhabitants of Torch were at first wary of her, distrustful as they were of all androids, but she won most over by developing a reputation for killing dangerous robots. RP Sample "Look at that skin color," a voice said, "most unusual! A malfunction in the fabricator, or was it a deliberate design choice?" "Don't talk about her like she's not here," another voice replied, "She's a person, not just another piece of salvage." Her eyes fluttered open. Above her she saw a face. Pale skin, with a pattern of green lines crossing it like circuits. He's an android, she thought immediately. But what is an android? A moment passed as she processed, I am an android. An artificial creation designed to mimic a human... But what is a human? It was disorienting, as all the information preprogrammed into her brain rushed into her consciousness. "Hello," said the face- the android. His was the second voice she had heard. "Welcome to life. My name is Connor." She pulled herself up into a sitting position. "Connor," she said hesitantly, getting a feel for using her mouth. "Hello. My name is..." her head cocked it one side as she paused in thought. "I do not think I have a name." Connor nodded. "No, you don't. You'll have to choose one for yourself. That's how we usually do it." "We..." she replied. "We are androids." "Fascinating!" came another voice, from behind Connor. For the first time, she looked past the other android. They were in a large chamber of rock. A cave? Several others stood there, including the one who had spoken. Gender female. Like her. Not like Connor. "Physically she seems an adult, but mentally she is like a child. Were you like this as well, Connor?" "Of course I was," he replied, "All androids are. She essentially is a child, a newborn really. And quite a bit more capable than your newborns, I should say." She listened as they spoke, understanding but not fully comprehending. "What is a child?" she asked. The word was in her brain, but she didn't fully grasp the meaning. "A child is..." Connor hesitated, seeming unsure how to best explain. "When biological races like humans are born... when they 'emerge' like you just have, they start as smaller versions, with limited skills and capabilities. That is called a child. They grow over time into fully developed adults." "Smaller versions," she said, considering, "Like that one?" she pointed to one of the people in the cave. Similar to the human woman. Smaller. Gender male. Suddenly, the others burst out laughing. She flinched in surprise, pausing for a few moments as she processed the unfamiliar sound. "Have I said something funny?" she asked Connor, who was the only one not laughing- aside from the child, whose face was scrunching oddly. Connor gave her a small smile- perhaps a habit he had picked up working with humans? "That is not a child," he said, "That's Terbal, a halfling, another race of people. They are similar to humans, but shorter. And they generally do not like being compared to human children." She again cocked her head, considering. "Why not?" "It's... difficult to explain," he replied, "There will be time for all that and more. For now, let's get you out of that pod. If you're anything like I was when I emerged, you'll be hungry, we can get you something to eat." He reached out an arm to help her up, which she took. As their hands clasped, she observed the marked difference in their skin tones. His was a pale pinkish color, while hers was a deep shade of blue. It had an odd quality to it, almost like oxidized metal. From what the human woman said, it seemed it was somewhat unique. She wasn't sure exactly why, but she liked that idea. "Thank you," she said. "And... my name is Patina."

[DraconigenaArma]

Application Basics Name Burcavinus “Burk” Scaevina (Baine) Race Human (Taldan) Class Magus Campaign Trait: Local Ties Appearance Tall and lean, Burcavinus is quick and strong both in action and in appearance. He walks with a spring in his step, light on his feet and looking ready to leap at any moment. He has a generically handsome face and pleasant features with a light bronze tint to his skin accentuated into a much darker tan when exposed to the sun. He keeps his dark hair long, usually pulled back or at least in a half-ponytail, and wears a close-cropped beard trimmed along his jawline. His most outstanding feature is his purple-colored eyes. A scar runs across his chest from his left clavicle in a ragged line to his sternum, a reminder of the fight for his life he lost almost a decade before. Fashion-wise, he has predominantly adopted the local style, his knee-high cuffed over boots traded out for some fur ones, breeches, a hide jacket instead of a doublet. He is always accompanied by his trusty cutlass, slung on a baldric over his shoulder. His magic is an innate part of him, and he has a strong affinity for the wind, weather, and storms. When he is excited he can inadvertently cause brisk breezes and static-cling level crackles of lightning about his person. Personality Burcavinus is clever, rambunctious, and foolhardy. He is an active man who is not afraid to take risks and tends to act as fast as he thinks. Though he is braver than is healthy for him, he is not so impulsive as to act without some thought. Though no silver-tongued conversationalist, he is affable and accommodating, tending to get along with most. No patriot to the River Kingdoms, he was raised on the River Freedoms, and though he is not the type to quote them or proselytize them, he has long since internalized them and lives by them; he is fiercely loyal to his companions and family, chafes at tyranny, abhors slavery, and his oath is an ironbound certainty. Backstory Burcavinus’ family were not always pirates. Always mariners, but only near the end and out of desperation did they turn to raiding. Born of the River Kingdoms, as a young child he did not have a home as such – he did have the river drivers and sailing ships they used for trade. It was not an idyllic childhood, but it was perfect for his enthusiastic and adventurous personality. He benefitted from having tutors and mentors of all walks of life and in a myriad of skills, as new crewmembers would come and go with their diverse talents and many hours of quiet sailing to fill. Bright and inquisitive he took readily to all the subjects taught to him. By the time he was twelve, he was already learning the hard skills of a sailor, but also how to read, how to fight, how to dance, and was exploring innate magical talents working their way up to the surface. But mercantilism is only as secure a trade as your cargo is valuable, or your ships are afloat. After a series of profitless ventures, weather, and conflict over two years his parents had lost all but one of their boats and were effectively impoverished. They turned to piracy out of desperation and ventured north to plunder the easy-to-sell skymetal shipments coming out of Numeria. A final disaster, the punctuation mark at the end of his family’s story, their first raid was more than they could handle. The crew’s boarding attempt was not just rebuffed, but their intended victims were able to destroy the ship. Burcavinus fought as well as an adolescent can, but he found himself struck down in the fray. He remembers the axe blow, and he remembers the cold splash of the water, but he has no recollection of how he managed to survive the river. The next he remembers is waking up swaying in a hammock wrapped in bandages and braced in splints and casts. He still bears the scar from clavicle to sternum. His benefactor, Khonnir Baine, told him about dredging Burcavinus out of the water, barely alive. There were a few other survivors from his ship who were also pulled out of the water, but his parents were not among them. They all assured him they were dead, though having not seen it himself, he clings to the hope they survived – even if it means they’re living out some secluded life. After recovering his strength he worked for Khonnir to repay his debt, not having any money to pay for the healing. By the time he had finished working off his debt, it was clear he had nowhere to go. Khonnir took him in, and work became more of a familial relationship, not quite the adopted status of Val, but a working member of Khonnir’s household. When he was in his late teens, Khonnir identified Burcavinus’ magical proclivities as more than the mere fleeting, puberty-fueled growing pains and took him on as much more of a protégé. An intelligent student, after the years of basic study required to make passable inroads into scholarly magic, it became increasingly obvious Burcavinus was too active and restless to make a true wizard. By the time he was in his early twenties, Burcavinus had taken Khonnir’s teachings and adapted them to his more rambunctious and scrappy tendencies. He considers Val his adopted sister, even if he was never officially Khonnir’s adopted son, having known her since she was a toddler. They are his family where his own family was missing, and though an adult and operating mostly on his own, when Khonnir left the River Kingdoms Burcavinus went with them. He continues his studies with a much more loose affiliation than that of an apprentice, spending more time working as a bouncer at the Foundry Tavern and working as one of Khonnir’s field agents doing special errands than studying directly under him. Still enjoying the water he gravitates towards heading from Torch down to the Seven Tears River, having even signed on as a deckhand on a few jobs taking him as far as Hajoth Hakados and working caravans to Starfall. While he doesn’t have the voracious technological interests Khonnir and Val do, he has taken to life in Torch with surprising ease. Numeria's prevelant technology makes more sense to him than most, and he is comfortable with it in a passive, competent way. Working diligently to learn Hallit he can speak like a local and has even adopted the nickname “Burk” as it is more fitting to Torch's harsher accents than the softer c and rolling r of his Taldan name. When Khonnir goes missing Burk is eager to launch an expedition to save him. RP sample It starts as a sleepy murmur, not enough to wake Fulla lying next to him, but loud enough she mindlessly rolls back over against him. Settling in, she drapes a comforting arm across Burk’s chest. Her fingers trace the raised line of his scar in sleep. Burk stirs again, a light sweat starting to bead on his furrowed brow. In his dream he is fourteen again, standing a-midship, the wind blowing his hair, the lateen sail fat and full with a hefty breeze from the stern. Some of the crew are playing instruments, a lively tune which begs to be danced to. And they do, his parents, dancing together. He can see their faces, except they are indistinct, so many years now have gone by even the memory in his dreams lack the precision to reproduce their faces in clear relief. They twirl, and his mother is laughing, and the crew is cheering. There is something ominous in the cheer, and as it drones on Burk realizes they are not cheering but screaming. Looking around the ship he cannot find his parents, the sun is not shining anymore, and the sail is on fire. All around him the fight is raging, their intended victims have pushed the crew back and have counter-boarded. From their ship, they continue to toss flasks, bursting into flame when they shatter against the planks and bulwarks and mast. The men boarding their ship, no bigger objectively than any other man, look like towering giants in a young boy’s eye. Burke has a sword in his hand, he is assuming the stances he was taught but his legs tremble, and his palms sweat. The fight comes to him. Burke stares up into the face of the man attacking him, a face hidden in shadow, eyes glowing red. Burke tries to parry, the man bats his sword away without effort. The axe swings down. He can hear the creaking of the rigging. Staring out over the water he works his shoulder through every conceivable range of motion. It is stiff, and it is sore, and the bandages still need changing every day or so, but he’s alive and it no longer feels like he’s being stabbed with every breath. Khonnir is talking with someone he doesn’t recognize, not yet. And then the towering man with a bloody axe and flaming red eyes is standing behind him, weapon raised. Burke tries to cry out in warning, but his mouth is full of water. Khonnir is overboard now, sinking into the river. Burk is diving after him, swimming with all his might. With lungs on fire, shoulder aching, he watches Khonnir sink deeper into the dark waters, plummeting faster than Burk can swim. With his remaining breath, bubbles pouring from his mouth he screams. The scream carries him awake, sitting upright in bed, the yell dying in his throat. A chilly wind stirs in the room, blowing the shutters open and tousling both their hair. Fulla scrambles to pull the blankets he had dragged off her back over her exposed skin. As Burk’s scream dies away so too does the wind, leaving the room with an even more resolute sense of quiet in its wake, punctuated only by Burk’s ragged breathing. She watches his face in the dark, waiting for it to be over. After the silence becomes too intense for her, Fulla reaches out and touches his shoulder. “Are you okay?” She asks him. Burk continues to stare off into the middle distance. Again she urges, with increasing concern, “Talk to me kulta, what’s wrong?” Turning his head to meet her eyes he shudders, reaching up to place his hand on hers. “I think something terrible has happened.”

[ClamLord]

Hello! Fairly new to Pathfinder, and I wanted to try it out again so I'll make an application soon enough. I'm just wondering if all you need right now is a character concept and RP segment as I'm still not entirely used to Pathfinder's character creation. If this is the case, I assume I can worry about the actual sheet and stats later if I get into the game, and you'll help me make sure I do it all correctly. If you do need a completely ready character now, let me know so I can do that while asking a bunch of questions.

[Togot]

All I require is what's listed above. You don't have to worry about character sheets until after being selected

[ClamLord]

OOC I'm sorry if it's a little long. I had a lot of fun writing this.

Application General Information Name: Tolin Matfoot Race: Halfling Class: Fighter Details Appearance: Tolin is slightly taller than the average Halfling and heavier than most. His hair is naturally curly and taken care of, but he doesn't like to style it. Tolin also doesn't particularly like to shave, even though he can't grow much of a beard anyway. He spends most of his time outdoors, which reflects in his appearance as people have commonly stated, "It's like he'd been living in the woods his whole life." Tolin always happens to find mud on his cheeks or a leaf in his hair. People don't tend to interact with him; his face is usually scrunched and appears a tad cross, but this doesn't mean he can't crack a smile once or twice a day. Personality: Tolin is not a dark, brooding, antisocial loner who hates the world as most would assume; he just doesn't have a lot of control over his face. A poor resting face does not equate to a grumpy soul, and this is very much the truth for Tolin. He enjoys the company of others when he isn't busy practicing a skill he wishes to master. Hunting, fishing, swordplay, and archery are all activities Tolin is fairly skilled at and thoroughly enjoys, but if you were to place a bag of seed in front of him and told him, "Go plant these in the fields," there would be no harvest season. Tolin appreciates the experience of work over the money earned from it--even if his performance in the field (no pun intended) isn't adequate. In fact, Tolin's been called a drunk due to horrible farming, but ironically he hates the taste of alcohol, and doesn't understand "parties." Though others have scolded and judged him for his inadequacies, the insults only ever went in one ear and out the other; he was too busy thinking about which aspect of his swing needed the most work, or when to go for the killing shot during a hunt. Societal bases like the status quo, laws, and justice are unimportant to Tolin because he merely wants to do things that bring him happiness. And as long as Braylen continued to stick by Tolin, Tolin was happy. Background: Born the child of two farmers, Tolin was expected to be a farmer himself. He was raised near a halfling town, on a small farm that had 5 fields on it and a forest next to it. Tolin loved spending time in nature and discovering the secrets it held, and fortunately, having most of his farm work being outside, Tolin was able to spend as much time as he wanted digging through the dirt with his hands or climbing the nearby trees. Unfortunately, a lot of the work was never finished or completed properly, so his parents decided to make him an errand/delivery boy instead. He would race back and forth between town and the farm trying to make a faster delivery each time. This was good fun for Tolin, and the road he traveled always had something new on it every day, be it a squirrel, a caravan, or a fallen branch. He'd always end up picking something up to bring home, but not before walking into town with it. The other children whispered about him when he entered town, wondering why he was holding a snail today and a maple leaf yesterday, but Tolin either never cared or never noticed. On one delivery trip, he met another halfling boy who was fairly older than him on the road to town. He had a pile of leaves in his hair and something in his left hand. His eyes were a dark brown, and his face a bit pale. His clothes were nothing special, but he wasn't wearing any shoes. Usually, Tolin exchanged a simple smile and greeting to the passerbys or animals on the path, but the boy walked up to him and introduced himself as Braylen Deerleaf. Tolin noticed that in Braylen's hand was an unusually smooth pebble. "Wanna see something cool?" Braylen offered, however, Tolin immediately noted that he had his delivery to make, so Braylen decided to tag along. The two discussed the wonders of nature, things like: trees growing to be so tall but having branches just low enough for children to climb, or how the animals of the forest are different from the animals on the farm or in town. After the delivery was made, Braylen eventually showed Tolin how to skip a rock across a river. The ripples in the water amazed Tolin and a new wonder had been discovered. The shore had more stones to toss, and the new friends tossed pebbles until the sunset. Tolin and Braylen maintained their friendship into adulthood, with every new age they became more adventurous than the last. The two discovered that hunting and fishing was not only a very fun sport, but their way to give back to nature and be a part of the Circle of Life. Other activities like swordplay with branches became a pastime in the winter, and archery became a competition that Tolin could never win. The two would still meet everyday at the lake, and with each rock, each ripple in the water, each conversation, each competition, and each hunt the two sent ripples of euphoria through each other and created a bond that they couldn't replicate with anyone or anything else. Roleplay: "Come on now, I found a good one." Braylen hollered as he ran through the forest racing to find a certain buck that he'd seen the day before. Tolin followed a fair distance behind as his excitement for this hunt was not as pronounced. He wasn't so much focused on finding the deer as he was merely trying to keep up with his partner, but his attempt was futile as he arrived at a clearing and there was no Braylen in sight. "Bray?" Tolin called out. He held onto a longbow that was around his neck as he'd become nervous he'd lost his partner. "Shush! That's it right there," Braylen pointed. He was hiding behind a fallen tree that had been taken over by moss and mushrooms. There's our target." He was referencing a white deer that stood still in the clearing. It moved it's head about, but nothing more came from it. It was as if the deer was waiting for something. Tolin crouched next to Braylen. "This isn't going to work," Tolin sat lower than Braylen whose hair had managed to gain enough sticks and leaves to house bird eggs. "I haven't landed a single shot on any other deer, and they were all bigger than this one!" "Do you not know how to be quiet when a guy tells you to 'shush?'" whispered Braylen, his finger to his lips. " I think this is it. Something about this deer, it isn't like the others. I believe you'll hit this one." He pat Tolin on the back and pointed to the bow on Tolin's back. Tolin stood up and took the bow from off his back. He stared at the wood of the bow. He'd been practicing his archery for months, but couldn't even hit a practice target from fifty feet. As he brought the bow in front of him to pull the string, Braylen interrupted him. "Ahem," Braylen covered his mouth and Tolin looked over, "you need an arrow." Tolin looked at the bow and realized he'd forgotten a key piece to archery. He smirked at Braylen, let out a slight exhale from his nose, and shook his head. "Yeah, that might be important." He pulled the arrow from the quiver on his back and lined it up with the bowstring and the grip. Suddenly, he felt two hands on him. One was on his right hand as he gripped the bow, and the other on his left shoulder. Braylen was helping him steady the bow, and also his nerves. "You need to relax," Braylen whispered. Tolin glanced over at Braylen and saw that his gaze was directed toward the pale deer. "and when you release, imagine where you're hitting that buck. Doesn't matter where, just find a spot." Tolin's head relaxed as his gaze focused on the deer. He released the arrow, and imagine it was hitting the deer in it's broadside. Tolin usually flinched when he fired an arrow, but this time he just stared at the arrow as it made it's way toward the white deer and into its side. He hit it, and the deer fell to the forest ground on a pile of pink and yellow flowers. "I... did it." Tolin thought out loud. "I really, finally, truly did it!" He belted out a hollering laugh, throwing his hands into the air while still holding onto the bow, and looking excitedly for Braylen who had somehow been placed twenty feet behind him. "You did it," Braylen smiled warmly towards Tolin and gave him a minor applause, "you finally hit a target past fifty feet." Braylen's smile now turned to a smirk. "Ha," the cross-faced Tolin returned, "I'll remember that next time we duel." Tolin glared at his partner for a few more seconds before his face conceded and expressed the joy he truly felt. The pair smiled, then embraced each other. They whispered a message to each other that they swore would only be shared between them, and walked out of the forest with their latest hunt.