Interest check, Pathfinder campaign spanning three AP's (and three generations)

[Zaer Darkwail]

Also one which sort works is warrior of the light, but you would sacrifice all awesome paladin spells in return to get more lay of hands and able conjure field which buffs everyone slightly. Also depending on GM judgement the aasimar favored class bonus could work on the warrior of light aura as it's a aura which is activated (and so provide greater buff than +2 before 20th level).

[Vergil Tanner]

All possible! Of course, me going Oracle is also possible, if the team needs a dedicated Holy Caster. :P It depends on the composition should Arty be accepted :P

[Roleplay Frog]

I'm voting 2 and 4. I'm also leaning towards Pala, female, but can do whatevers lacking too.

Just paladin archetypes alone, the dwarven one really tempts 'ya. *nodnods*

At 2nd level, a stonelord’s flesh becomes progressively rockier. She gains a +1 natural armor bonus to AC and DR/adamantine equal to 1/2 her paladin level. The natural armor bonus increases by +1 at 6th level, and every four levels thereafter, to a maximum of +5 at 18th level. These benefits are halved when not touching the ground or a stone structure.

om nom nom.

[Vergil Tanner]

Well, I'm feeling like Arty would probably be an Aasimar Bow Paladin. *nodnod* Get those tasty wings at Level 11. >.>

[Roleplay Frog]

Well, I'm feeling like Arty would probably be an Aasimar Bow Paladin. *nodnod* Get those tasty wings at Level 11. >.>

Mechanic or erotic reasons?

[Vergil Tanner]

Yes.

:P :P

[Roleplay Frog]

Yes.

:P :P

I was betting on both, but that'll do.

#Wingsex

#Youcandoitwayearlierwithmagic

[Vergil Tanner]

#MagiccostsmoreandcanbeDispelled

:P

[Roleplay Frog]

[Vergil Tanner]

Ah, but that takes a spell slot, and takes a Standard Action to cast. With natural wings, you can just say "fuck you" and do it :P

[Roleplay Frog]

Ah, but that takes a spell slot, and takes a Standard Action to cast. With natural wings, you can just say "fuck you" and do it :P

Not a standard action.

[Vergil Tanner]

If you're casting a spell, it's usually a Standard Action >.>

[Roleplay Frog]

If you're casting a spell, it's usually a Standard Action >.>

No see, it's an instant not a sorcery, so clearly this is quickened magic.

Also now I am tempted to jump spell plus bouncy body around the battlefield. High jump skill base, I can totally make it work.

[Vergil Tanner]

See, now you've had to burn a Feat and a higher Spell Slot! Yeah, you can get it earlier, but the Aasimar Wings are just more efficient. Especially on a Half-Caster. :P

[Ixy]

My character idea, at least for the first generation, isn't doing to be a stat machine or all that exotic. Hopefully that doesn't equate to "bland". 

It will depend heavily on setting and AP, I think, to be useful and to borrow characteristics.  She's initially, in her late teens, a grave-robber's apprentice/aspiring surgeon who discovers she has a strange kinship with the dead (sorceress or death-focused cleric).  The fun part would be watching her blossom from a quiet, morbid girl with a kind steak into a full necromancer, skirting the edge of the spirit world.

.

The second idea, completely unrelated, is one I loved before, wanted to play for months, but-- alas-- the game died.  If this general character concept could be adapted, I would love to reintroduce her... She's a rogue with no sense of proper manners and little common sense, and seems cursed to always, without fail, say the wrong thing (and often inappropriately).

[TheGlyphstone]

Name: Angelo Valdemar-Ciora
Race: Human
Class: Occultist (Silksworn)

Bio: Some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouths, and grow up surrounded in luxury. Angelo looks down on those people as noveau-riche middle class posers to real nobility-by-wealth. His family is closely tied to and intermarried with the Valdemars, one of the four great merchant dynasties of Magnimar, and Angelo's upbringing has immersed him in that opulent extravagance. But no one who deserves their money takes foolhardy risks in managing it - this has been the lesson figuratively and occasionally literally beaten into Angelo by his father and tutors; for all that he tries to duck his responsibilities and enjoy himself, he can't avoid absorbing both the lessons of smart management and the proper noblesse oblige attitude to hold towards the less financially blessed.

Personality: Being the heir to one of the oldest and closest splinter branches of the Valdemar line, and thus as tightly integrated into the power and economy of Varisia in general and Magmimar specifically, has shaped him immeasurably in his attitudes towards life. The smart get wealthy, the wealthy get power, the smart stay wealthy and powerful. It's a exceedingly clean and straightforward perspective on life, and entirely unmarred by any prejudice against commoners. He doesn't fault anyone for their circumstances of birth, only for their inability or lack of will to rise beyond whatever they were given - though his privilege often gives him some blinders regarding the opportunities less wealthy people have to do so. Backed by his stupendous fortunes, Angelo is an inveterate and shameless playboy. He flirts with every woman he finds reasonably attractive, and while a firm no will drive him off, anything less than outright refusal is merely a challenge to be overcome. Nor are his attentions often unwelcome, as he loves to shower his lovers - even his one-night stands - with gifts and presents of all kinds.

No matter where he is, Angelos always makes sure he is dressed impeccably and to the highest of high fashion. It's not just vanity, either - his studies into the occult have gifted him with knowledge of obscure and powerful arcane rituals, the foci for which are the expensive garments he wears. Money quite literally is power in his world, and he merely takes it to a new level of truth.

[Chulanowa]

My character idea, at least for the first generation, isn't doing to be a stat machine or all that exotic. Hopefully that doesn't equate to "bland". 

It will depend heavily on setting and AP, I think, to be useful and to borrow characteristics.  She's initially, in her late teens, a grave-robber's apprentice/aspiring surgeon who discovers she has a strange kinship with the dead (sorceress or death-focused cleric).  The fun part would be watching her blossom from a quiet, morbid girl with a kind steak into a full necromancer, skirting the edge of the spirit world.

.

The second idea, completely unrelated, is one I loved before, wanted to play for months, but-- alas-- the game died.  If this general character concept could be adapted, I would love to reintroduce her... She's a rogue with no sense of proper manners and little common sense, and seems cursed to always, without fail, say the wrong thing (and often inappropriately).

Rowan was adorable, and I wish I could have gotten in on that game. Oh well  ;D

[Chulanowa]

Not a standard action.

Standard actions take like six seconds. Where I come from, Jump takes four minutes!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SwYN7mTi6HM

[Vergil Tanner]

Name: Artorius “Arty” Inglefell
Race: Angel-Blooded Aasimar?
Class: Oracle or Paladin (Depending on Party Composition)

Background:

The Inglefells were a proud, powerful family once, ruling their own city state and swathe of territory in the far North. Their neighbours, however, always seemed to treat them as an afterthought, or an obstacle rather than a powerful presence due to their relatively small – but stable – territory. This rankled many of the powerful members of the family – they were important, damnit, and should be treated as such – but certainly not enough to tempt fate. The Inglefells were a long line of Warrior Lords, rumoured to be descended from amongst the first of the Mercenary Guilds that aided in the foundation of Fellhaven, who had risen to greater and greater prominence within their city until eventually they controlled the city if not in name – that “honour” belonged to the Vismarck line, the hereditary Viscounts of the city – then in practice. Their wealth kept the military paid, their corruption kept the underworld thriving and loyal to the Inglefell name, and their influence kept their political opponents in the shadows...they controlled everything and everyone within Fellhaven, a vast empire of wealth, illegal and legal ventures and bickering relatives all kept in line by the powerful Patriarch, Rosgoth Inglefell.

Unfortunately, Rosgoth was growing older and the attempts on his life were consistently getting closer and closer to success. He wasn't as young and spry as he once was, and though he was still a strong enough warlord to thwart any attacker who dared challenge him in the open, his wits were beginning to fade...and though he would bloodily execute anybody who dared say that to his face, he knew that they were right. He needed a legacy, or the Inglefells would fall to ruin through infighting and bickering upon his death. He needed an heir. So, he took his fifth wife, Sylvana, the female heir to a rich and powerful Elven Merchant Lord Line – a line reputed to have Angel Blood running through their veins - and within the year...Artorius was born. His father rejoiced and, as soon as he could walk, began to teach him the skills and knowledge that he would need to be a proper and true Inglefell Patriarch. Battle tactics, swordplay, horseback riding, archery, the proper implementation of assassins and how best to guard himself against hostile ones...he tried to pass on all his knowledge to his son, hoping that one day he would be shaped into a worthy successor to his name. Unfortunately, fate had a different plan for the young Artorius.

Whilst he did his best to excel for his father, practicing sword and horse in equal measure to try and make his father proud, his heart was never in it, and it showed; whilst he had a decent amount of natural ability, he never really excelled in the way his father wanted him to, he was hopeless with military tactics and espionage, and his best trait was appeasing other parties, which – in his fathers words – “Was not the Inglefell way.” He endured many a powerful, stern lecture about his failures, always ended up feeling like nothing by the end of his fathers angry tirade, and it was only his mother – an Elven trophy wife by the name of Sylvana – who kept him somewhat grounded during all of it. She recognised that her son was not cut out to be a Inglefell warlord, and instead encouraged him to follow his passions...they tried many different things, but eventually he realised that he just loved making people smile and laugh, and even had a degree of aptitude for divine magic (which they trained him in in secret, lest his father find out). He loved to sit with his mother and her handmaids, sewing and knitting and talking about the days gossip and news. He loved helping the maids with their housework, finding the repetitive task of cleaning and scouring the house for dirt oddly cathartic and relaxing after the stressful, often-tear-inducing failures in his “Manly” lessons, followed by the furious tirades of his father. What's more...he soon found that he loved more than just making dresses and frocks.

It began as an accident. One morning, after a forced tavern session with his father – who thought that taking his 13 year old soon out drinking would be a good way to “Put some hairs on his chest” - he was in no small amount of agony as he rolled out of bed and grabbed the first thing his flailing arms could reach to pull on and stumble out of his room. It just so happened that he'd mistakenly gone to sleep in a maids room – who had been too scared to wake him and correct him because of who his father was – and he accidentally pulled on her uniform dress (which was scandalously lowcut with a very short skirt, since his Uncle Kyran was a pervert). He realised his mistake quickly, having caught sight of himself in the mirror, but...something stopped him from taking it off. It felt...nice. Smooth, and light...soft, nothing like those coarse leather plates his father made him wear. It was richly made – of course – and the stitching was beautifully smooth and graceful. The fabric glided against his skin magnificently rather than catching and rubbing like the rough cotton tunics he usually had to wear, and he found that – though he knew he must – he just couldn't take it off. He spent what felt like hours there, just touching the fabric and feeling it against his skin, feeling how right it felt on him.

He did eventually take it off, of course, but he never forgot it...and he never stopped. Whenever his father wasn't looking for the next five years, he would slip on a dress or a skirt, revelling in the freedom and the rebellion against his fathers oppressive ways...and then he started doing more. His hair had always been a very unmanly shade of an almost purply red – much to his fathers fury, he took after his mother in that regard – and he found that with very little effort, he could make it look even more feminine...his body, though well-maintained thanks to the constant exercise, was soft and smooth rather than corded and hard, so with not much effort at all...he looked like a female, rather than just wearing their clothing. And he loved it. He felt like he was finally free, that he had finally found his niche, his self...and, of course, he had to explore it. So he began to sneak out at night, going to taverns and inns, performing there in his new persona of “Arty,” finally being able to do what he wanted with people cheering rather than shifting nervously in case his father burst in and killed them all. He was happy.

But that lasted only for a few months. One night, while performing, the door burst open in the middle of his latest performance...and his father, Rosgoth, stood there, fury in his face and murder in his eyes. Nobody else had recognised him, but his father did. His father always did. That night, he received the worst beating of his life, beaten to a pulp that couldn't even moan in protest when his mother – who attempted to stop Rosgoth – was thrown from the room with a force that splintered her skull on impact with the opposite wall. She was dead before she came to a stop, but Rosgoth didn't care. He turned back to Artorius, a cold fury in his eyes, and if the castle hadn't shaken like the world itself was trying to swallow it up, he might have done the same to Artorius. As it was...the City was under attack. Their neighbours had decided that enough was enough, and had turned their combined attention to invading and carving up the resource-rich territory in their midst....and Fellhaven was the last bastion of resistance, the fall being the nail in the coffin for the Inglefell Line. And fall it did. His father did his best, but it was a losing battle and everybody knew it. He stalled and delayed and obstructed...but all it took was one knife through the ribs from one of Sylvana's handmaidens, and it was all over. Without the fearsome Rosgoth to drive them, the soldiers of Fellhaven threw down their weapons and surrendered. The citizens attempted to flee, and the nobles fell to bickering and infighting, even with the enemy at their gates. Fellhaven didn't last a single night.

And through it all, Artorius lay in a bloody pulp cradling his mothers dead body, desperately trying to use his Divine Magic to heal her, but alas...he was not strong enough, and his fathers loathing for the clergy meant that there were no stronger Casters on hand to bring her back from the realm of the dead. He would have stayed like that, had his mothers handmaidens not pulled him away and smuggled him from the city, using secret tunnels that his mother had discovered years previously to come out behind the siege lines of the enemy States, before hurrying into the darkness, seeking refuge from their old home, eventually arriving in Fort Inevitable, their life newly difficult and hardy as they struggled to make ends meet...until Artorus decided that enough was enough, and took up adventuring to help them pay for their necessities. They had always sheltered and supported him. It was time he did something in return. It took him a long time, but he has come to terms with his mothers death, and has found a certain degree of...peace, you could say, in his new life. He is an adventurer, travelling the land and helping people in their daily struggles, and he has never felt so free. He misses his mother dearly, yes, but all things have their time, and he will never disgrace her memory by allowing himself to fall into such depression that he does not enjoy the second chance that he has been given.


Personality & Sexuality:

At heart, Artorius is a kindhearted, gentle soul who will always try to make people feel better any way he can, and delights in earning grateful or amused smiles from people he sets out to help. Whilst he is not against killing when necessary – such as when he is clearing out a Goblin encampment from a forest near a human village that they have been raiding – he is always hesitant to resort to it as the first solution, and is more happy coming up with diplomatic solutions that keep everybody happy. Whilst he is skilled with his sword, it is healing people and making them happy that truly brings him joy, as well as being able to live life on his terms. When out of combat, he is always eager to please those he has decided are “Above” him, and delights in receiving rewards for his good behavior; he is, to put it bluntly, what many people would call a “Healslut,” a healer who delights in servicing his chosen party sexually as well as with Divine Magic. When he makes friends, he makes them for life, remaining unfailingly loyal and devoted to their wellbeing. Despite his ability in combat, if he is around people he distrusts or actively fears, he will withdraw and attempt to evade notice, more comfortable with being ignored than initiating a conflict of some kind. He is not afraid to draw his blade, but only when the other party initiates conflict. He will never instigate a fight himself; it goes against everything he believes to be the first to bare steel.

Artorius is Bisexual, readily indulging in sex when his Party and friends require sexual relief, or a distraction of some kind for a Monster or foe. To call him a “Healslut” would be an understatement!

[Vergil Tanner]

And there we go! :D I'm thinking he's gonna be a Polearm Paladin. :D

[Chulanowa]

I imagine Lily will have to restrain herself from petting his hair.

[Vergil Tanner]

Oh, don't restrain yourself on his behalf! He rather enjoys it :P

[ChaoticSky]

Its worth noting, that longer lived races can also catch a case of dead. So even if that Elf would have lived long enough to see all three APs, they could have died young and left a child behind. Just something that occurred to me.

On another note, keep in mind that pure healing is not ideal. So make sure your character can fight and stuff too, Mr Trap ;).

For myself, I've been curious to try out the new warrior-poet samurai archtype, but Brawlers are a old favourite. What do you guys think would be more appealing? A refined and beautiful lady of war or a rambunctious and muscular brawler?

[Vergil Tanner]

Oh, I agree. To be fair, both Healbot Oracles and Paladins have plenty of bite to them; Oracles get access to some pretty nasty spells and abilities!

Though if I went with a Paladin, well...Paladins can pack one hell of a punch. Shield Focus + Shield Brace + Difficult Swings = you ain't getting anywhere near the guy. xD I've wanted to try a Polearm Build for a while, and whilst Fighter is the best bet for ANY combat build due to the glut of feats, Paladins can make a decent Polearm Fighter too.

As for your character, experiment! Go for it!

As long as she's willing to dominate the Trap. :P :P

[Zaer Darkwail]

Also paladins have smite evil so they fare very good vs evil guys. Anyways I like the refined lady of war approach more but there are sexy brawler/bruiser ladies as well :).