[PF-1e] Wrath of the Righteous: Paths of Ascent

[Eviltedzies]

Eviltedzies Character Name: Davor Sulibhan Race: Elf Class: Ranger [Adventurer, Demon Slayer] Mythic Path: Dual Path Marshal - All the way to Mythic 10Champion Alignment: Chaotic Good Intended Roles: Ranged Damage Dealer & Single Target Debuffer   Davor stands at five foot ten inches with a slightly stouter build than most elves though this is due more to his lean muscle than any quirk of his heritage. Coal black hair rustles in the wind and is prevented from growing much longer past Davor's eyes with the occasional cut of a dagger. Not the most efficient method, but an effective one nonetheless. The elf is still fresh into his adulthood and the fluid spring in his step and grizzled fuzz of a beard around his face show the prowess of a honed elven body untainted with stereotypes of elven societies such as wine and fruits. Davor's flesh and blood has been honed by struggle and hardship and he bears the many scars to prove it. Above all though, it is Davor's Davor's eye color was a side effect of the demonic ritual performed on him in his youth. It is also the reason I took the Elf trait "Blended View" to grant him Darkvision. Combining a little fluff with mechanics nicely there.eyes that speak to his personal misfortunes. Where once his iris's sported a golden yellow sheen they have now been darkened to a flame colored orange with the whites of his eyes being burned black from a demonic ritual forced upon him in his youth.   Rough around the edges is certainly a fair start in describing Davor. Unlike many of his elven counterparts, he does not radiate a grace or charm in his appearance. His words too are sharp and full of a bitter sarcasm with a hint of a gravely pessimism thrown in for good measure. The horror's of the past crusade's still haunt Davor to the current day and his betrayal at the hands of his own mother makes it very hard for him to really open up to anyone. Dry humor along with perhaps an occasional ale or two to is the mask he wears to hide his own personal wounds. The elf certainly seems to have been around the block a bit when it comes to the horror's of the crusades. Despite this, Davor feels a hidden shame for having lived so long and done so little to aid against the demons. Certainly he feels small parcels of peace when he is able to help out smallfolk and refugees but at the end of the day they are passing joys that only warm Davor's heart temporarily. Though his hatred of the demon's still burns, his passion has dampened in recent years with his efforts at thwarting cultist cells meeting relatively little success thus far. Davor is after all only a single man and a man who cannot rely on others rarely achieves great things. Even after all he has been through, some things remind Davor of better times. Oiling his crossbow reminds him of days long past spent with his father toiling over a woodworking bench while hunting game reminds him of the many nights he and his mother had spent under the stars. Davor watches the shorter lived human lives with a pang of envy, seeing how passionate the men and woman working for and around the crusade's can be. Though a full blooded adult by elven standards, Davor still feels as though his century of life has done little to transform the same frightened young elf child who fled from demons all those decades ago when the Worldwound first opened. All this alone would be enough to cause most sane folks some serious issues, but every night Davor falls asleep afraid to dream. Rarely is he gifted any pleasant dream, but more often than not he recalls the horror's he experienced that night long ago when the demonic energies of the ritual he was thrust into flooded his mind with the horrid cries of thousands of screaming souls and a malice that chilled one to the very bones. Even though his nights may be dark, each day that dawn comes Davor looks out and feels an urge within him to push onward. Be it some bitter refusal to give in to the depressions of the world or perhaps just some unseen flicker of innocence that still remains in his heart, Davor presses onward with his goals of helping others and hunting down any who would progress the goals of demon kind. Some days, it is the only thing that keeps him going.   Born a few decades prior to the opening of the Worldwound, Davor Sulibhan enjoyed a quiet early life in Sarkoris. His father was a fletcher and bowmaker of some small renown while his mother was a skilled huntress. They made their living off their skills and the land. All in all it was a simple existence but one that brought Davor a sense of fulfillment. Alas, such harmony was brought to ruin upon the opening of the Worldwound. As demon's spewed forth across the lands slaughtering all within their wake, Davor and his family were forced to flee alongside the thousands of other refugees. During their flight, Davor's father was cut down before his eyes causing both he and his mother immeasurable grief. In the aftermath of the Worldwound's opening, the first Great Crusade was called and despite Davor eagerly desiring to avenge his father his mother forbade him to join. By elven standards he was still a child and his mother felt him inexperienced enough to deal with the deadly threats they had both witnessed; instead, Davor's mother insisted the two of them use their time to study their new foes and aid other refugees whose homes had been lost. Though Davor still felt a strong desire for revenge he did not go against his mother's wishes. Like hunters, they would stalk their prey, learn their behaviors, and find a way to strike them down with a well placed blow. So it was that during much of the first three Great Crusade's, Davor and his mother worked as guides, escorts, and messenger's for the lands surrounding the Worldwound. All the while, both observed the many battles from afar and intently noted the tales told by few survivors who managed to return from battles alive. It was a painful time for Davor for time and time again he watched men and women be sent to their death never to return. What few friend's he made during that time often never lived long and their death's at the hand's of the demon's kindled the flames of revenge within Davor. Yet not once did Davor's mother allow him to enlist in the crusades nor did even allow him to go scouting alone. Though Davor knew his mother was merely being overprotective, his hatred of the demons blinded him to the growing instability within his own mother's mind. When the fourth Great Crusade was called, Davor refused to heed his mother's advice and when he confronted her with his intentions of joining his mother seemingly relented to his demand to join on the condition that he follow her. Finally able to nearly taste vengeance, Davor agreed and eagerly prepared for what would be his first real test against demon kind in decades. Alas, in his haste, Davor fell victim to a cultist plot that had been in the works for years within the growing ranks of the third crusade. To his utter shock and horror, Davor found himself captured and betrayed by none other than his own mother. The weight of losing her husband and possibly her only son had over the years overwhelmed Davor's mother and had allowed the corrupting influence of the demon's to seep into her mind. In a demonic ritual, Davor's mother seemed prepared to sacrifice Davor in exchange for him being reborn as a great demon unable to be harmed or killed. Before her blade could pierce Davor' heart however, the ritual was interrupted by a contingent of crusaders. Their meddling caused the ritual to fail but Davor had already been expose to the foul energies. Managing to free himself in the chaos, Davor fled as his eyes burned like hot coals. After days of travel with hunger and thirst overwhelming him, Davor collapsed and was found by crusade scouts. Upon his recovery Davor recounted what had occurred and did not know which reaction pained him the most, the fact that it had been his own mother who had betrayed him or the looks of suspicion and contention that the crusader guard's gave him. Eventually Davor was released but his mental state was in complete disarray. Disillusioned that the person he trusted most in the world had betrayed him, Davor returned to acting as a scout, escort, and messenger. His hatred for the demons now intertwined with his thoughts that his own mother had sided with them over her own flesh and blood. As time past, Davor came to believe that the cultist's his mother had been involved with were just as much to blame for her betrayal as the demon's. His investigations began to turn away from the Worldwound and focused themselves on the movements and actions of various factions taking part in the Fourth Great Crusade. If he could not sate his bitter vengeance on demons he could certainly do so on their mortal coconspirators. So it was that one fateful day, Davor found himself in the city of Kenabres tracking down a lead on a potential cult.....   Berkheart Han - A dwarven bounty hunter and information broker Davor has worked with off and on in the past. Davor initially met Berkheart a few years after his mother's failed attempt to sacrifice him. The bitter resentment of the event was still fresh in Davor's mind as he tried to satiate his desire for revenge by hunting down cultists. Berkheart saw the anger in Davor and through a combination of tough love and lots of ale managed to finally get Davor to open up. Berkheart was the first fatherly figure Davor had had since his own father passed away and a man long lived enough to understand Davor's own viewpoints on things. While Berkheart did not patch the hole in Davor's heart, he did manage to help him focus his anger and temper his recklessness. Serina Willowsong - A elven childhood friend of Davor's who also fled Sarkoris when it was overrun. Unlike Davor, Serina sought to aid the efforts against the demons of the Worldwound shortly after fleeing her homeland. As a youth, Serina worked as a field medic patching up soldiers returning from the front lines but over time Serina became a devoted cleric of Iomedae. Though often separated for years at a time, the two always managed to catch up whenever fate brought them back together. A few ales in a tavern and hours spent swapping stories allowed both to take comfort in a friendly face among the trying times. Though Davor will not admit it, he does hold a small crush on Serina though after his attempted sacrifice Davor has resigned to bury those feelings. Friendship is enough for him or so he tells himself. Garret Tanner - A young human man working as an assistant page at the Librarium of the Broken Black Wing, Davor had been friends with Garret's parents in his youth and watched the two of them grow older and begin a family together. When the call went out for the third crusade however, Garret's father answered the call much to his wife's protest and never returned. Out of a mixture of guilt and desire to respect his friend Davor continued to stop by and visit Garret and his mother when time permitted. He would share tales of his travels and teach Garret how to read and write new languages. In time, Garret proved to be an adapt student and managed to find work tending the Librarium as a page. Davor sees Garret almost like a younger brother though he mourns the fact that, barring a painful death, Davor shall likely outlive Garret.   Davor Sulibhan - The Fall Finally, Davor managed to angle his way up to the higher seats giving him an excellent view of the festival grounds. For commoner's it wasn't the best, due to the distance but the payoff for Davor was having the area be a tad bit less confined than the crowds right near the borders of the grounds scrambling to get a close seat. Leaning against a wooden fortification, Davor contented himself to observe the events from afar and it seemed just in time too. For not long after having made himself comfy did Lord Hulrun himself begin to speak. Things were looking promising.... until the explosion of light washed over the area. Caught off guard, Davor whipped his head around but was forced to find a nearby opening in the wooden planks to see, but as his eyes adjusted a part of him wished he had not looked. The force of the explosion rippled through the elf's narrow frame and the pillar of red fire and lightning enveloped his gaze tinting it with abject terror. It took a mere split second for such deep seated terror to shift into a near palatable dread in the back of Davor's throat. Hearing the cries of the crowds, Davor spun about in time to see the guardian of Kenabres, Terendelev take to the sky. It was a flicker of hope needed in a dire moment, but one that was quickly smothered underfoot by the arrival of the infamous demon lord of infestation Deskari. Up until that day, Davor had only ever heard stories of both legendary figures; and yet, now their images were laid bare before the hunter's eyes. The reality was far more majestic and terrifying than Davor could have imagined. Never in near a century had Davor felt the panic that now flooded his mind. It was as though he were a child once more watching the demon's surge out of the Worldwound and massacre everyone in their sights. Memories Davor had tried so hard to keep buried played themselves out in his mind over and over again. No... it couldn't happen again, not like this. Part instinct and part training spurred Davor into a mad dash. Though his position had given him the greatest vantage point, it had also put him in the worst position to escape the coliseum in the ensuing chaos. With Teremendev and Deskari providing the backdrop for the unspeakable battle, Davor had only one thought on his mind. He had to get away. Leaping from row to row, Davor did his best to make for an exit. As he did his eyes were forced to witness other less fortunate souls being eviscerated by demons or even worse, trampled by the other hoards of innocent civilians desperate for escape. The looming dread washed over him until at one point the elf passed by a lone human child crying beside a bench seemingly separated from his parent's. Despite his feet continuing to move, Davor could not help but feel a horrible confliction within him. A new wave of emotion surged forth in Davor and clashed with the looming dread... guilt. If he went back he would surely perish Davor kept telling himself, but with each step he took the weight upon his heart and mind multiplied. Cursing under his breath, Davor tried to reason with himself, tried to tell himself that going back was suicide. The weight upon his heart pained Davor greatly and with a sudden about face, Davor's mind recalled his own tears as a child watching his father remain behind to protect him. Davor remembered the look upon his fathers face in those last moments, a smile. That smile now cut Davor deeper than any blade ever could as he felt unworthy to have been given such a gift. Before Davor realized it, his feet were carrying him back the way he had came. Dodging every frantic civilian and overwhelmed guard, Davor ran as his lungs burned for air. His eyes frantically searching for the child he had left behind. In the din of madness, one of the coliseum's parapet's collapsed kicking up dust and debris across an already muddled battlefield. A building sense of urgency welled up within Davor as he pushed himself onward. It couldn't be! The child wasn't that close to the walls? He had to be safe he just had to be! Despite all his pleas to the contrary, Davor eventually after what felt like a lifetime made it to the edge of the collapsed parapet. His hands frantically began throwing debris off left and right. His mind constantly telling himself there was nothing more he could do; and yet, his heart pained itself with guilt. Had he just did the right thing moments earlier, perhaps the child would still be alive? Entrenched in his fruitless effort of rescue, Davor failed to heed his surroundings and with a sudden crack of the benches Davor found himself falling backwards. Even when his mind thought he would split his head open upon the dirt floor, reality was not so kind. The ground opened up around Davor and as his eyes adjusted he realized what was happening. The abyss was swallowing up bystander's left and right and he in his cowardice and last minute change of heart had fallen victim. In his final moments, Davor caught a glimpse of the silver guardian Teremendev. He felt her magic weave into his flesh and slow his fall. She had fought with every ounce of her being and despite being cornered by Deskari she had still concerned herself with the fate of a few meager civilians. What had Davor done? He had fled in cowardice when others were in need. He had spent over a century learning how to fight the demon hoards and what in all that time had he accomplished? Absolutely nothing. In the end he could not even save a single child. As he watched Deskari blades pierce Teremendev's neck, Davor felt tears welling up in his blackened eyes. He did not deserve her kindness. It should have been the child or any other of the hundreds of innocents souls in the coliseum that should have been saved, not Davor. As the darkness of the abyss continued to encompass him, Davor whispered under his breath. "This is all I could do.....?"   Statblock Davor Sulibhan Init: +4 | Speed: 30ft | Senses: Low Light, Darkvision 60ft, Perception +6 Unless otherwise stated, Davor will always choose to take 10 on reactive Perception checks using his Wiscrani Ear trait. This effectively makes his passive Perception check a 16* HP: 12/12 | AC: 16, Touch 14, FF 12 | Fort: +4, Ref: +6, Will +2 BAB: +1 | CMB: +5 | CMD: 17, FFCMD: 13 Primary Attack: +1 Str RatingComposite Longbow - +5, 1d8+1 +1 Attack/Damage if within 30ft (Point Blank Shot) +1 attack versus Outsiders with the Demon subtype (Light Against the Darkness racial trait) +2 attack and damage versus Evil Outsiders (Favored Enemy)* Str 14 (+2), Dex 18 (+4), Con 14 (+2), Int 12 (+1), Wis 14 (+2), Cha 10 (+0) Ability Scores | NoneConditions | NoneCurrent Effects | Arrows (40/40), Trail Rations (7/7)Expendables | Abyssal, Common, Elf, Goblin, OrcLanguages   Ability Scores 26pt Buy: Str 12, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 8 Race: +2 Dex, +2 Int, -2 Con Mythic: +1 Dex (Tier 1) Starting: Str 12, Dex 21, Con 12, Int 14, Wis 12, Cha 8 Alternate Racial Traits Blended View (Replaces Keen Senses) Dreamless Sleep (Replaces Elven Immunities) Silent Hunter (Replaces Elven Magic) Fey Thoughts Add Acrobatics and Bluff as class skills* (Replaces Racial Weapon Familiarity) Character Traits [Campaign] Stolent Fury [Combat] Scouts Eyes [Social] Suspicious Favored Class: Ranger Favored Class Bonus: +1 Skill Rank/Level Feats 1. Elemental Might Casting Tradition: Ranger Casting Modifier: Wisdom Type: Divine Drawbacks: Verbal, Somatic Boons: None (Gain +1 Spell Point / 3 Levels) Magical Drawbacks [Life] Slow Recovery - Gain Revitalize [Telekinesis] Passive Telekinesis - Gain Telekinetic Tools Bonus Magic Talents 1. Life Sphere, Revitalize, Telekinesis, Telekinetic Tools Homebrew Martial Tradition: Bolt Ace (Requires DM Approval) - Equipment: Mechanical Training - Sniper sphere - Expert Reloading - Variable: Gain the Barrage Sphere or a bonus talent from the Sniper sphere. [Barrage Sphere] Martial Drawbacks [Barrage] Distant Looter - Gain Battlefield Scavenger Bonus Talents 1. Battlefield Scavenger, Hindering Projectile (Snipe) [Mythic Sphere Mastery: Sniper] Talent Progression 1. Mobile Focus 2. Tangling Shot (Snipe) Mythic Tradition Mythic Drawback: Hatred vs. demon spellcasting, Phobia vs. potions. Mythic Quality: Flowing Power Mythic Boons: Expertise (Source: Spheres of Power - Prodigy Class (2nd Level) Adaptation (Ex) The prodigy may open her mind to a flash of insight, temporarily discovering skills she didn’t know she had. At 2nd level, as a standard action, the prodigy may grant himself the benefit of any one magic talent or combat talent she doesn’t possess. This effect lasts for 1 minute. The prodigy must possess that talent’s base sphere and meet any prerequisites (if an advanced talent). The prodigy may use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + 1/2 her class level. Multiple uses of this ability do not stack. If the prodigy uses this ability again before the previous duration has expired, it replaces the previous use.Adaptation), Mythic Exemplar (Impossible Speed) Mythic Champion (Tier 1) - Champion's Strike: Fleet Charge - Path Ability (Mythic Sphere Mastery: Sniper Sphere) - Mythic Feat (Dual Path: Marshal) - Bonus Ability: Marshal Order (Rally) - Mythic Ability Increase (+1 Dex) - Mythic Bond: Object Bond (+1 Seeking Light Crossbow)

[Eviltedzies]

@CatCanCook - Minus choosing an option for the Mythic Boon: Expertise my application is complete. If I am missing anything or of you have any questions let me know. You may recognize Davor from our previous, if incredibly brief, foray into WotR.

[CatCanCook]

dbaque

[Crocodile]

@CatCanCook

[Admin Dirk]

FYI, I will be doing Salix entirely under the PF Witch class, not spheres.

I'll rework her sheet to reflect that.

[LeoByron]

Tedzies throws his hat in! The competition just got FIERCE!

[dbaque]

Welcome, Tedzies! Long time no see.

[CatCanCook]

Welcome Tedzies. Out of nowhere a polished application. :-)

dbaque -

[CatCanCook]

Crocodile -

[dbaque]

Still tweaking the build and details, but the skeleton is pretty well sketched out.

App Name: Lunigen Race: Wyvaran (Evasive Maneuvers alternate trait) (refluffed as a red dragon via Transformation) Stats: Str 14, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 15mythic+1 Class: Paladin (Champion of the Cause, Oath Against Fiends/Oathbound) -Class features: -1st: Aura of Good, Detect Evil, Smite Evil, Low Casting & spell points, blended talent per level -2nd: Divine Grace, Lay on Hands -Feats: --Eternal Tranformation (dragon transformation hybrid, quadruped but keeping low-light vision, wings/flight) (1st) --Chivalrous Courtesy flaw -> Grappling Caster Traditions: -Casting (divine, Cha): Verbal Casting (roars), Somatic Casting (alternate, cast in light/medium armor), Witchmarked (smoky magic from maw), Expensive Locus (treasure horde); Easy Focus boon (concentrate as move), +1 spell point +1 per third level -Martial: Armor Training, 2 Wrestling talents, Dual Wielding talent Traits: Mathematical Prodigy (arcana), For the Money, Angelic Affinity -Overprotective Drawback -> Principled Mythic Tradition: Path: Gifted; -Mythic Drawbacks: Radiant Power, Oathsworn (toward Good); -Mythic Quality: Aura of Power (Aura of Faith, as per base paladin); -Mythic boons: Expertise boon (Wanderer's Lore), 2nd Expertise (Brawler's Martial Flexibility) -Mythic Sphere Mastery (Alteration, elemental transformation (fire) hybrid, keeping nonmythic dragon shape/traits, gains 25% fortification and 2 slam/claw attacks, as well as fire resistance and burn ability) - +1 Cha - Path ability: qualify for monster wrestling talent Compulsive Eating (see below) - feat: Mythic Magic Talents - Bond: Object (Amulet of mighty fists) Magic Talents: -Alteration and Size Change (initial bonus), Lycanthropic (drawback) -> Greater Changes -Warp (mythic magic talents), Bender (drawback) -> Extradimensional Room Combat Talents: -Tradition: Wrestling & Iron Grip, Armor Training, Dual Wielding -Blended: Greater Grapple & Compulsive Eating (fire damage) Alignment/Patron: LG, Iomedae   Hearing a voice, you look about and see no one. However, peeking down, you spot a large winged lizard about the size of a dog. His crest and scales bear a fiery red. He wears a breastplate and a durable pack on his side. Wings lie folded on his back. Glittering jewels compliment the tan hues of his underscales. Unlike some mere pet, the lizard's slitted eyes look bright and excitedly inquisitive. A youthful smile shows all too sharp teeth. Claws click a steady rhythm on the floor as he approaches. Squatting on his hindquarters, he offers a claw for a friendly shake. Despite these hints at the apex predator to be, his expressive face holds enough youth to look more cute than fearsome (somewhat to his chagrin). When you are not forthcoming with a handshake, the small wyrm snorts. Smoke curls from his nostrils and weave around his frame. Quickly, he shifts in size up to man-sized reptilian. The proffered handshake seems a little easier to accept. The reptilian glances behind with narrowed eyes. A hulking owlbear crashes from the forest brush, howling a promise of a brutal death. Smoke wafts again from the reptilian's nostrils and swirls around him. He roars before the sound grows deafening as he shoots up to match the size of the unnatural beast. Vicious claws and fearsome fangs brandish. A mighty tail sways menacingly behind like a serpent. Scorching flames erupt from his maw, forcing the owlbear back and giving it pause. The large dragon pounces upon avian monster. Rolling around in a deadly flurry of fang and claw, they go tumbling into the brush. The raging sounds of battle end with a sudden crunching sound. The forest goes still for a moment. The dragon emerges from greenry, dragging the owlbear carcass behind him. Messy crimson coats all over both predators. While it blends with the dragon's scales for the most part, it stands out starkly on his toothy grin. He yips with boyish excitement. The dragon goes over how the battle went and intersperses grateful exclamations to "the Lady" amid his play-by-play recount. Pausing, he cranes his long neck up a moment and licks his forked tongue around his lips. He remarks that it was rather tasty. With a final yank, he drops the carcass closer and asks if you want a piece. Later that day, slabs of owlbear meat sizzle over an open campfire, tended by the dragon with a gourmet's care. He encourages everyone to have a piece but cleans off the leftovers himself.   Lunigen has a peculiarly cheery, excited wonder about him. The wide world is so vast and full of so many wondrous things. This childlike enthusiasm is just so unflappable that insults & misfortune slide off him as easily as water off his scales. This is not to say that he never gets angry or indignant, just that there are few ways to do so. He has a child's simplicity about a lot of things. His wants and recreations are similarly simple, mainly creature comforts ... for the most part. Lunigen is still a dragon, and those instincts color his interactions. He has a predator's nonchalance about blood and death. He delights in jewels and precious metals, rather possessively. Odd for his kind is a similar attitude toward his few friends. Most might chuckle over the dragon calling friends part of his hoard. Yet, he is perfectly serious. Jest would only be answered in jest, but woe to anyone daring to threaten his hoard! The line between cute and predator is a wicked chomp away. More so, the dragon always seems hungry and none too picky about what. Lunigen has two great drives. First, he is a "mighty, noble dragon" and proud of it (even though he has interacted with very few other dragons nor knows too much about them). Being underestimated for his small size was a bit of sore spot for him for a long time, but he has grown since and garnered more of the proper respect for a predator. Second, he is a "dutiful knight" in the service of Lady Iomedae. He has Father Sunnestier's upbringing to thank for that. Mention of his Lady is seldom far from his lips. He is a soul of courtesy, and chivalry will be dead over his cold, dead body. The knight is both demanding of himself and generous to others ... to a point; his lair is not going to decorate itself. Safe to say, it is hard for most to reconcile the dragon knight. For Lunigen, even now his more gentle nurture often struggles with his more primal nature.   The story of Lunigen the dragon begins decades ago with one of the earlier adventures of the demon hunter Eterrius Sunnestier. He and a squad were on mission urged by ancient dragon Terendelev. Dragon sightings had increased of the decidedly chromatic variety. Yet, rather than terrorizing the populace surrounding the city, each dragon sighting involved dragons under pursuit. The troubles of chromatic dragons were hardly something Terendelev ever looked into, much less the Mendevians. However, this time, Terendelev saw something more disquieting, a demon leading a troupe of cultists after one of the dragons. The silver dragon and the veteran demon hunter set out to investigate. The paths of destruction were easy enough to follow. But why the sudden interest by the hordes? The answer soon revealed itself within one cavern upon a mountainside. Father Eterrius crept within to find a battle in progress. A towering glabrezu demon was cornering a red dragon further back into its lair. Both creatures were bleeding badly, but the dragon had the worse of it. A trail of roasted cultists led up to a circle of cultist pikemen harrying the dragon. Father Eterrius spied a nest of eggs behind the red dragon's tail. The dragon, clearly the eggs' mother, was not backing down and snarled menacingly at the demonic intruder. The glabrezu sneered and bade her to hand something over. A gout of flame was her answer. The cavern shook again with tooth, claw, breath, and sorcery. The demon hunter was torn enough by the scene for some time while Terendelev was content to simply allow the battle to take its course. Then, the red mother stumbled under a particularly telling blow. The glabrezu pressed its advantage to clamp a pincer about her throat. Father Eterrius came to a decision. He summoned mystic might to tear loosened stones from the ceiling. The distracted glabrezu roared in shock before the weakened demon was crushed beneath. The demon hunter's squad set upon the surprised cultists who avoided the collapse. Badly broken beneath the rubble, the glabrezu snarled and cursed before vanishing away. Father Eterrius rushed around the cave-in to find the red dragonness. She was still alive but, from the look of her terrible gashes, she was not long for this world. Terendelev strode within and gazed on the fallen dragon. She noted that there was little anyone could offer at this point. The red dragonness weakly growled at the small intruder and hated kindred. She scoffed whether they had come to finish her off. Father Eterrius shook his head. Confused, the red dragonness spared a rare look of relief. Glancing at the cave-in where her invader had once been, she snorted something under her breath, probably the closet to an expression of gratitude managed by the proud, selfish lizard. She craned her weakened neck toward her nest. Her face fell, and she bellowed a pained wail. The demon hunter drew closer and found all the eggs crushed underfoot (a very large demonic foot). Apparently, her rescue of her nest had come too late ... no, a moment. The hunter's sharp eyes spied something amid the gore and broken shells. Sweeping a hand through it, he pulled out a smaller egg that had escaped the invading dragon's wrath. Relief shone on the red dragonness' face, only to turn bittersweet. She had no illusions about her survival this day. She glanced from the egg to the little mammal cradling it. For a brief moment, she shed the proud gaze of a wyrm to took on the pleading hope of a mother. Terendelev scoffed but kept silent. Father Eterrius silently nodded and softly smiled. A raspy breath of relief passed the red dragonness' lips. She laid her head down, too tired to keep it up. She had no idea why the demon set upon her lair and remarked about some irony, given clutch's father. Weak chuckles turned into wracking coughs until a wheezing breath marked her passing. Father Eterrius and Terendelev held a moment of silence for the mighty wyrm. Then, he took the egg with him. The demon hunter eventually returned to Kenabres and the Cathedral. Terendelev warned him the whole time of the foolishness of taking a chromatic dragon in. He would not be dissuaded. Although the little egg took its time about it, eventually, it stirred. Beneath the light of a full moon, a tiny runt of a wyrmling emerged, endearing as only babies could be. In a poetic fit, Father Eterrius named the little one, Lunigen, an old name meaning "born of the moon." Years passed as the priest raised the wymling at the Cathedral. He spared no effort attempting to investigate the demon's interest in the dragonness or the wyrmling or ... something. Yet, he learned little. His own brother crusaders gleaned little insight of their own. Some counseled to end the chromatic wyrmling and be done with it. But more cautious heads prevailed. Years passed. There was little unusual to notice. Father Eterrius was expecting a young one with strong instincts toward selfishness, and Lunigen was certainly one such. His tough little scales often received disciplining. Still, the little dragon always felt loved. The demon hunter taught Lunigen what he knew, from erudite lore to surviving in the wilderness. As a natural predator, the little dragonling took to the latter lessons with a relish. As he grew, fang and claws and sorcery began to emerge, the hunter focused more on discipline and moderation. Control over one's own strength was the greatest strength of all. The model of the heroic St. Clydwell and the august Lady of Valor was never far. The skeptical Terendelev kept a close eye on the chromatic wyrmling, but even she warmed up to growing lad. The elder dragon found herself often fielding barrages of eager questions from the wyrmling about their kind. It was obvious (& adorable) that the little one awed over his senior, a model of a "mighty, noble dragon." The first rare surprise was the boy's appetite. Lunigen was always hungry. He loved to sample new flavors and varieties; much of that involved hunting down new types of prey and different approaches to roasting or seasoning it. The hunter did not have to wonder where the dragon put it away because the runt grew fast. As Terendelev observed, it was far faster than any dragon should. Within a few decades, Lunigen had grown as big as his guardian. Yet, neither appetite nor growth showed any sign of slowing. Father Eterrius remained unconcerned. The heads of the various crusader orders had a far greater variety of opinions. A particularly vocal member of the Order of Heralds called to outright execute Lunigen to halt the danger. However, the others heeded Father Eterrius' counsels. Lunigen would simply be observed further. So steeped in the tales and rites of the Medevian Crusaders, it was little wonder that Lunigen desired to join them. Reluctant, Father Eterrius delayed as much as he could. Eventually, the hunter was greeted with a vision from his patroness. The vision reassured him to permit Lunigen his desire. Father Eterrius told Lunigen all he had seen and heard. The dragon grew excited at the thought of becoming a knight, encouraged by the Lady herself. The hunter embraced his son in all but blood. The dragon may have shed a tear or two ... but only the most manly draconic of tears, of course. The dragon's training only grew more intense from then, but Lunigen took to it with gusto. When Father Eterrius' duties at the cathedral absorbed his attention, Lunigen split his time between the guards on the city ramparts and mighty Terendelev whenever she was around.

[CatCanCook]

dbaque,

For Lunigen -

Show the stats. With that race you have 23 build points.

Please separate what you get per character level, and state the source of each feat or talent, so I can account for them.

Mathematical Prodigy - has you pick a skill. Please identify it.

If you are taking Object Bond then you have to think through what it is via the listed options.

You seem to be claiming too many talents for (tradition). A Tradition gives exactly 4 talents. It looks like you are claiming 8. Clarify where every talent comes from.

[Crocodile]

@CatCanCook

[dbaque]

Originally Posted by CatCanCook

dbaque,

For Lunigen -

Show the stats. With that race you have 23 build points.

Added.

Please separate what you get per character level, and state the source of each feat or talent, so I can account for them.

I think all are accounted now. The sources for talents are the 2 initial magic talents, mythic magic talent ability, martial tradition, or blended talent.

Mathematical Prodigy - has you pick a skill. Please identify it.

Noted now; it is for arcana so that he knows about dragonkind.

If you are taking Object Bond then you have to think through what it is via the listed options.

What is a good option for unarmed/natural attack folk? Is there any variation, weapon or otherwise, of the amulet of mighty fists?

You seem to be claiming too many talents for (tradition). A Tradition gives exactly 4 talents. It looks like you are claiming 8. Clarify where every talent comes from.

It should be clearer where each talent comes from now. Let me know if anything still ambiguous.

Does Fear and Flame potentially cause the fear state to worsen each round? E.g., normal foe fails & becomes shaken, next round fails & frightened, next round & panicked? The feat says that a save occurs each round on fire and a successful save reduces fear by one level, so a fail escalates?

[Kenjitsu]

@CatCanCook

A question about bounded items.

[MundayKnight]

Would you allow a ground wasp swarm to be purchased and how much would it cost? Closest to bee swarm that Pathfinder provides so figure easy pallet swap.