[PF-1e] A Town Called Sweetwater

[VaultDwe11er]

Application updated.

[CatCanCook]

Here is the status of presently interested players for the current open slot:

Player	Character	Class	Status
VaultDwe11er	Draupin Kegbender	Dwarf Gunslinger	Complete
Zealot	Henry Douglas	Shadowed Fist Striker	Complete
gravenimages	Ceroval Otsay	Oracle	Complete
MundayKnight	?	?	Incomplete

Applications closed March 7, vote March 9.

[Zealot]

Application updated.

[CatCanCook]

Thanks, Zealot. I updated the status table (above) and pinged the two other players interested at this moment.

[gravenimages]

Arright, it may not be pretty but here it is:

Name: Ceroval Otsay
Race: Human
Class: Life Oracle
Origin/region feat: Azerkan Born: Metropolitan.

Background: Ceroval was one of a pack of like young people, children of the well-to-do in the capitol city. Growing up privileged, destined to carry on the Otsay family name in some cushy position more status and symbolic than functional and useful. As a wealthy family they paid at least lip service to the Consenus, donating generously to the cause and being quite outspoken about it.

One fateful summer day Ceroval was out walking with his tagalong younger sister and wasn't paying much attention. The curious girl strayed into a capped well area that was 'under maintenance' for a leaking seal, while he was exchanging vapid 'witticisms' with a passing maiden. Some sort of accident happened that left him unconscious and her nowhere to be seen. He wasn't held responsible for the accident, but felt guilty about it... To the point where he started seeing things. Or imagining... Pranks that his sister used to play on him started happening... Hints of laughter or whispers, shadows at the edge of his vision.

After the predictable odd series of interactions with his family and friends, he got ahold of his mind, willing himself to ignore or just deal with the oddness, trying to get on with life but unable to enjoy anything as much. This was noted by those around him as grief over what happened, and while they were supportive in a way they were generally shallow and self-absorbed as he had been. He was managing well enough, he thought, until the pranks started manifesting themselves as what he could only call magic. Ceroval became more and more reclusive as he strove to master the outbreaks, splitting time between his room and his oft-neglected studies.

Eventually his behavior began to inconvenience his parents, with him failing to show at social events or being distracted, apprehensive, and unengaging to the point where other families began to gossip. His parents decided he needed some kind of help, and arranged to remit him to a Consensus councilor. His parents sprung it on him one evening at dinner, and a spirited discussion ensued. Eventually in his anger he lost some of his control, and things began happening that weren't explainable and frankly frightening, ending the discussion with him being banished to his room.

His parents discussed long into the night, what to do... But Ceroval made the decision for them by packing a few things and disappearing in the night. Since then he's been headed towards the frontier, trading on his book knowledge of many subjects and learning real world skills in return. With time away from his comfortable life and the discipline borne of necessity providing for himself came a better understanding of and grasp upon the forces at work in his life, and how to channel them towards useful purpose.

Sweetwater was just another stop along the way... Until he heard about someone looking for adventurers. Low on coin, he still dithered a bit before deciding to check it out. Adventurer didn't seem like a thing he was, but that self-image had kind of taken a beating lately...


Appearance: A handsome young man, tall but slight build a combination of upper-class breeding and the general idleness of his lifestyle. Wears his blond hair to his shoulders and loose. His fair skin has seen an abundance of weathering of late, resulting in a perpetual tan since he stopped burning. His blue eyes are vibrant in color, but usually lidded in a languid fashion with only a trace of humor. His clothing is notably local in flavor, distinguished by being free of stain, oil, or grime.

Personality: Still carries a bit of the out of touch naivete of the wealthy and sheltered, most of what he knows about adventurers comes from books. He's quite engaging most of the time but still a bit reserved when it comes to the magic entrusted to him. Generally earnest and willing to take on about any task... A demeanor he's developed along with a trace of humility to survive and thrive outside of the world into which he was born.

[CatCanCook]

Hi Graven,

Since you reference a particular location in your character's origin, a wrote a description of that location, here: https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthre...35#post8684835

[CatCanCook]

The players and I have reviewed the applicants, and the one receiving the most votes is:
gravenimage - Ceroval Otsay - Oracle

Thanks VaultDwe11er and Zealot for your interest! And I'll keep you in mind if we open up a slot at some other point.

[gravenimages]

Thanks for your vote(s), as your president I promise free* universal health care limited to about 30' proximity to my person.

*Terms and conditions apply.

[CatCanCook]

Game Status REOPENING FOR 2 SLOTS A Town Called Sweetwater is a game that has run for 6 months. Characters started at 1st level, and most have advanced to 3rd. There are 4 active players, and I am looking to add 2 soon, to replace characters that have gone inactive and turned into NPCs. At this time what might fit are: 1) an efficient healer, and 2) an steampunk technologist who is ideologically against the use of magic (lawful, or good.) I'm open to other ideas and if there is competition my practice is to have players in the game vote new people in. New characters will start at 3rd level, build rules are in the Original Post. Synopsis: the frontier town of Sweetwater is the jumping off point for people who want to colonize the frontier, or plunder the ruins of lost civilizations that lie upon the frontier, or perhaps just to get a fresh start on life and to escape what haunts them, back in the Azerkan nation's urban core. A band of adventurers formed up a posse to investigate a missing person case. In the process of doing so, they stumbled across a lost underground temple, and several of them became magically entrapped in this place. They are in the process of wrapping up their expedition, clearing the lost temple of its undead residents and dispelling the curse there. What lies in the future? Well, after the current adventure (which is approaching its final encounter), there will be a 1-year (in-game) interlude. During this time, the existing adventurers will be establishing themselves as notable citizens on the frontier -- not yet local leaders, but persons who through their businesses, research, adventures or relationships are rising exemplars and influencers. New characters will join around the start of July, as Chapter Two of the game starts. What lies in the future? First, there is a rising threat involving a coalition of native races (apekin, sylphs, feytouched wargs) against the Azerkan nation (humans, dwarves, others.) Second, there is a looming prophetic threat of a zombie apocalypse. Third, the supernatural influences of a neighboring nation, the Bright Empire, have been observed as casting some influence upon the frontier. One or several of these will turn into conflicts facing civilization. Current party composition: - Dwarf brawler - Halfling ranger/archer - Human clocksmith wizard - Human rogue - Human barbarian The game folder is here: https://www.rpgcrossing.com/forumdisplay.php?f=18382

[pianoman90]

Definitely interested! Would an Urban barbarian/Chirugeon alchemist fit the mold you were looking for in terms of non-magical healer type?

Dennis Crispin - Alchemist/Barbarian Name: Dennis Krispin Race: Human Class: Barbarian 1 (Urban Barbarian)/Alchemist 2 (Chirugeon) Alignment: Chaotic Good. Appearance and Personality: A well dressed man, his face is pockmarked with scars won on the street and scars won through experimentation. He is older than most, and his age reflects his experience with the world. He has seen much, and truly does want to spread his healing abilities to all who need it, constantly experimenting to find new ways to improve his concoctions. To those who meet him, he appears careful and reserved, but back him into a corner and he will viciously defend himself. He has a distinct dislike for authority figures who over-reach themselves, or try to impose strict curfews on his behavior. He also intensely dislikes magic, preferring to experiment with chemicals for the same end. Stiff-upper-lip sort of chap, he will not tolerate fools lightly and expects those around him to get on with the job quickly and efficiently. Place of Origin/Background: Azerka (Azerkan Born: Metropolitan trait will be taken). Dennis' youth was characterized by rebellion and lack of control. He was born into a wealthy technocratic family, his father (Jackrum) a mid-ranking official in the Church of Azerka, his mother died when he was young. Jackrum was a hard man, often beating Dennis for insubordination and recklessness, thinking this would create an obedient and well-mannered young man. Dennis' stutter is a result of the fear he held for uttering the wrong thing in front of his father. Instead of the obedience his father sought, Dennis would often spend time away from home, choosing to prowl the streets looking for fights. He was by no means the strongest fighter, but he was clever, often prevailing in the tight-cornered alleyways and rooftops. This angered his father who, when Dennis came of age, wanted to force him into a more refined, acceptable martial style becoming of a child of the Church. Dennis once again pushed back and fled the capital, heading for the jungle forest-nation of Gundulun. There he found a strange man by the name of Mr Hopkins, a master of alchemy. Dennis spent many years in the jungle with Mr Hopkins, learning all he could from this strangely benevolent man, a far-cry from the father he had abandoned. Mr Hopkins died 3 years ago, leaving his laboratory to Dennis. Personality: Dennis is not an inherently evil person. He has no care about shedding animal blood, but human is another matter. Not long ago, his assistant died in an experiment gone awry. Dennis stood by, unable to do anything to help. The death of his assistant still weighs heavily on his mind, and he would eschew violence against other humans because of this. His bent on healing alchemy is also borne out of this event. Experimentation is at the core of his belief, and he has recently turned his attention towards the care of others, seeking to synthesize alchemical creations to heal others. He can come off as a mad scientist type, irritated that his strength and potency of alchemy is not up to his own standards. Mannerisms/Quirks Memory: Dennis remembers the anarchy of the streets, and the brutal nature of the life he once lived. As an agile young man, he was able to dodge much of it, yet he still eschews violent and turbulent places such as inns, taverns, streets late at night, etc. Mannerism: He will fidget with his jacket, sometimes quite obviously when he is nervous. Quirk: Dennis does dislike pure magic, thinking that his magical abilities are just 'science'. He will insist on helping others through his 'science' and resort to alchemical creations of all sorts before using his straight magical items. Quirk: Irritable and heartless in appearance, Dennis seems annoyed when he must help others, though he always will. He sees his duty to others as requiring the least amount of effort for the greatest possible benefit. Quirk: He speaks in a stutter, and quite quickly, jamming the words very close to each other in an effort to explain himself. Discovery of the Healing Bomb admixture The night was young, and Dennis was in his element once again. He had just synthesized a crucial chemical as part of his latest discovery-a combination of lead, gold and chicken's blood. The fresh kill was still laid out on the bench next to the vial but that hardly mattered to Dennis. He was so close! Saeldrin, his assistant (may the gods keep his soul) had proven the catalyst for change that Dennis needed to discover these chemical combinations. My dear friend, I am sorry. I could not help you in your darkest hour-you will be remembered by me for eternity... Blood dripped from several cuts on his hands, but Dennis hardly seemed to notice them. "Hah! Now, w-where was that b-blasted oak sap?" Mumbling to himself as a sort of nervous energy relief, he flapped around his workshop, tossing vials to and fro. "N-n-not here, perhaps... oh no, no, that isn't it e-either. ...Yes that is the dragon's blood." *CRASH*, as it was flicked behind him absentmindedly. "One, two, th-three flasks of liquid aluminum, no, no, no... Underneath the apple vinegar? Hmmm... Ah!" His shaking hands moved quickly towards a small vial of black, viscous liquid sitting in a row of similarly syrupy jars. Crowing to himself, he took it over to his workbench and upended the bottle into the mixture. A small *Poof* shot off into the roof and smoke curled lazily upwards. Grinning to himself, he held it aloft, carefully inspecting the mixture against the single candle that lit the room. Seemingly satisfied with it, and hardly taking time from his ramblings to breath, Dennis cracked the bottle over his head. And waited. At first, nothing happened, Dennis was stock still. His breathing slowed, his mind raced. Did I get the mixture right this time? Did I forget an ingredient? No, no-precious metals, two aplenty, precious life, four and twenty. That was how it went... He could feel it working, the mixture had taken hold of something deep within him. He felt a deep warmth flow through his body as it worked its wonders on him once again. "Ha-ha! This is brilliant, I knew it would work this time!" In an instant, he felt a surge of energy shoot through his body. The cuts to his hands closed over, chemicals flowing down his arm and searing the wounds, knitting them together in an heartbeat. He felt invigorated, full of energy. Dennis jumped up from his chair and moved over to another workbench where a slim dagger sat. Picking it up, he sliced his hand again, intent on watching the chemicals work their 'magic' once again. Moments passed and though Dennis still felt the warm glow from before, the new wound refused to be healed. "No, no, no!! Th-this cannot b-be, I have worked too hard to not have the full effects I d-deserve!" But it was to no use, the chemicals were already wearing off, and Dennis was soon back to his pasty white self. Cursing in frustration, he turned towards his notebooks, scribbling furiously. The concentration was correct, the concoction a success. But I cannot seem to create the everlasting effect I am after. I was left a concoction by my mentor and friend, Mr Hopkins. He swore by this mixture of his, and used to tell me that he drank it whenever he was in most dire of need. For my studies, I must try this, even if I cannot understand everything that goes into it. Moving away from the table where he kept his notes, he looked for the vial in question. He found it among other hastily scribbled notes, some with strange chemical formulae on them, others with bits of names. In the middle of one of the larger scraps was a name, surrounded by question marks, notes scribbled out and written again, then scribbled out again. It was clear Dennis had tried to analyse the mixture, but something eluded him. He sighed, and took the vial in his hand. Bracing himself, he opened it and downed it in one gulp. Feeling the effects almost immediately, he found his chair again and slumped into it. He felt heady, woozy. The concoction had a far more powerful effect on him than he had thought it would. Struggling to think straight, he began to realise something was not right. He tried to stand, but couldn't-his strength was gone from his legs. Raising a shaky hand in front of his face, he tried to focus on it. In seconds he slumped into his chair, unconscious. ~~~~~~~ He awoke, still in his workshop. Something was misplaced, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. What he did realise was that his mind was on fire. Flashes of alchemical formulae raced across his vision, yet he couldn't pinpoint any one. The vial must have worked! He quickly realised he was lying on the floor. He stood, then fell down again, his legs hardly supporting him. Gripping the edge of the table, he struggled up and tried to clear his head to think straight. He found his chair, slumping into it and picked up a pen. His hand was shaking, he needed something that would stop the ringing in his head so he could begin to write down all the chemical symbols and formulae that were flashing madly across his vision.

Tanis Halfborn - Half-elf Swashbuckler Name: Tanis Halfborn Race: Half-Elf (Planning on taking Ancestral Arms alternate trait) Class: Swashbuckler (Inspired Blade) Alignment: Lawful Good. Appearance and Personality: A young, flashy swordsman, Tanis wears a thin cloak over simple, hard-wearing clothes and armor. His right arm glints metallic in the sun, a parting gift from his father (Cybernetic arm). Bone-white, braided hair frames dark skin and a lithe build. He moves quickly and looks to take command of any disturbances with speed and control. A sworn foot soldier of the Church of Azerka, he treats every magic wielder with extreme distrust and will not instinctively protect those he deems as 'dirty magic-users'. Place of Origin/Background: Terminus (Azerka) (Azerkan Born: Metropolitan trait will be taken). Tanis grew up in the upper-middle class district of Azerka. His father was a highborn official in the Church of Azerka, and loved him and his mother with his whole heart. In return, Tanis doted on his parents, often accompanying his father on 'raids' and 'patrols' of the city, forever mimicking his father's footsteps and fighting patterns. When Tanis finally managed to sneak through the house and take one of his father's swords for 'practice', he cut himself badly on the leg, crying with shame, humiliation and pain. His father found him, treated the wound and hugged him. He was 5 years old. 12 years later, Tanis had a sword of his own and a purpose. The Church had trained him well, he was one of the top recruits out of the barracks, and had received further training from his father's barracks. A deep hatred of magic and magic-users ran through him, and he was to be sent to the Northern Frontier as a first true test of his abilities and, as Tanis would like to think, to find his fame and fortune, eventually returning to Terminus as a triumphant hero of renown. Personality: Trained as a swordsman from very young, he is adept at following orders. Given the apparent wilderness of the frontier, it will be Tanis who looks to assume control if there is no authority figure present. He is sharp-witted and quick to defend his honor if he feels it has been besmirched. He will protect any who he believes follows the tenets of the church. Mannerisms/Quirks Memory: Tanis remembers 'patrolling' the streets of Azerka with his father, 'hunting' out magic-users that his father had set up to instill a fear of magic in the boy. Mannerism: Tanis is often over-the-top when it comes to demonstrating his skills, and extremely hard on himself when he fails the challenge he undertakes (Doubt drawback will reflect this) Quirk: Tanis has a fallibility for dice games, he loves to play whenever he can, and can get aggressive when he feels cheated Quirk: Tanis will try to assume command, something he feels is his right as a sworn soldier of the Church. Religion: Consensus Feats: Typical Swashbuckler stuff-weapon finess, combat expertise, dodge, but also a couple of Cybernetic enhancement feats as well as a Consensus Oath or two planned. Drawback: Doubt, something that will play into his headstrong mind easily.

[CatCanCook]

Hi pianoman,

You don't have to try to fill both the healing slot and the tech-using slot.

Alchemy is magical, so not a fit for tech characters. Information on the Consensus (technology using) options, including classes, are here:
https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthre...15#post8639015

This game, especially as it progresses towards higher levels, will have conflicts between Technology and Magic. There is a monotheistic and technocratic philosophy/religion called the Consensus, which is inherently Lawful-Good. The Consensus are the users of advanced technology, while all sorts of magic users and polytheistic faiths (of all alignments) belong to the Alternative.

Since Barbarians are chaotic, you'd eventually either get bumped out of being a barbarian, or being in the Consensus, somewhere around 10th level. So at 3rd level it's not any near-term conflict, but a theoretical eventuality.

[CatCanCook]

Hi pianoman90 --

So the character as written works as a member of steampunk society, and as a healer.

But he is not exploring the path of being truly anti-magical. That's fine, just pointing that you'd be competing for one slot and not the other. So you can ignore my immediately proceeding post as a road not taken.

[pianoman90]

Hi CatCanCook,

Edit: Ah, I think I understand what you mean. I was definitely conflating the two (healer + tech-using slot) together to try and create a character. Dennis will go with the healer (magic using) slot, having abandoned the Church in Azerka and forged his own path as an alchemist. Does that look like it fits better with your world?

[CatCanCook]

@pianoman, Yes, that's consistent with the world. There are several centers of alchemical practice, here: https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthread.php?t=193615.

Along with the Urban Barbarian archetype, thematically somewhat similar ones are Savage Technologist and Pure Steam's Civil Bedlamite.

[CatCanCook]

Hyregoth - in exchange for gnome magic, how about "Unorthodox Firing"
from here: http://spheresofpower.wikidot.com/eq...t-sphere#toc11 .