Lands to Call Our Own (Pathfinder)

[Steamdriver]

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Zaron
Male Other Race Name Tiefling Summoner 5 | [Lawful Neutral]   
Description
Age 29
Looks Black hair, Red eyes
Height/Weight 5'10 tall, 200lbs. (Medium)
Homeland ____________________
Deity ____________________
Campaign ____________________
Representing THM
Strength
   11 (+0)   
Hit Points
HP 49
Current HP

Dexterity
   15 (+2)
Constitution
   16 (+3)
Intelligence
   16 (+3)
Wisdom
   12 (+1)
Charisma
   16 (+3)

Initiative +2 = 2 [Dex]
Action Points (Lifetime) 9
Skills
SKILL   Total + Ability Mod. + Ranks + Misc.
Acrobatics*   +2 = DEX 2+0+0
Appraise   +3 = INT 3+0+0
Bluff   +7 = CHA 3+4+0
Climb*   +0 = STR 0+0+0
Craft   +3 = INT 3+0+0
Craft   +3 = INT 3+0+0
Craft   +3 = INT 3+0+0
Diplomacy   +7 = CHA 3+4+0
Disable Device*†   +2 = DEX 2+0+0
Disguise   +3 = CHA 3+0+0
Escape Artist*   +2 = DEX 2+0+0
Fly*   +2 = DEX 2+0+0
Handle Animal†   +3 = CHA 3+0+0
Heal   +3 = WIS 1+0+0+2 [Self Sufficient]
Intimidate   +7 = CHA 3+4+0
K (Arcana)†   +3 = INT 3+0+0
K (Dungeoneering)†   +3 = INT 3+0+0
K (Engineering)†   +3 = INT 3+0+0
K (Geography)†   +3 = INT 3+0+0
K (History)†   +3 = INT 3+0+0
K (Local)†   +3 = INT 3+0+0
K (Nature)†   +3 = INT 3+0+0
K (Nobility)†   +3 = INT 3+0+0
K (Planes)†   +3 = INT 3+0+0
K (Religion)†   +3 = INT 3+0+0
Linguistics†   +3 = INT 3+0+0
Perception   +1 = WIS 1+0+0
Perform   +3 = CHA 3+0+0
Perform   +3 = CHA 3+0+0
Profession†   +1 = WIS 1+0+0
Profession†   +1 = WIS 1+0+0
Ride   +2 = DEX 2+0+0
Sense Motive   +6 = WIS 1+5+0
Sleight of Hand*†   +2 = DEX 2+0+0
Spellcraft†   +11 = INT 3+5+3
Stealth*   +2 = DEX 2+0+0
Survival   +3 = WIS 1+0+0+2 [Self Sufficient]
Swim*   +0 = STR 0+0+0
Use Magic Device†   +11 = CHA 3+5+3


* Armor Check Penalty 0
† Trained Only

Equipment
Deathless Quilted Cloth Armor
Ring of Protection +2

Notes
Acid Splash
Arcane Mark
Detect Magic
Light
Mending
Read Magic

Endure Elements
Enlarge Person
Rejuvenate Eidolon, Lesser
Unfetter

Haste
Restore Eidolon, Lesser
See Invisibility
Base Speed [ 30 (6 sq.) ]

AC [13] = 10 +1 [Quilted Cloth] +2 [Dex]
Touch AC [12]    Flat-Footed [11]

Base Attack Bonus   +3
Basic Melee Attack +3
Basic Ranged Attack +5

Weapon
   
Attack Bonus
   
Critical
Spear +1      x3
Melee   20   n/a   1d8
Type
   
Range
   
Ammo
   
Damage

Fortitude Save   +4   = 1 [base] +3 [Con]
Reflex Save   +3   = 1 [base] +2 [Dex]
Will Save   +5   = 4 [base] +1 [Wis]

CMB   +3   = 3 [BAB] +0 [Str] +0 [size]
CMD   +15   = 10 +3 [BAB] +0 [Str] +2 [Dex] +0 [size]
Feats
Eschew Materials
Extra Evolution
Focused Eidolon
Resilient Eidolon
Self Sufficient

   
Traits
Disillusioned
Mathematical Prodigy
Carrying Capacity
Light Load: 38lbs.
Medium Load: 76lbs.
Heavy Load: 115lbs.
Lift Over Head: 115lbs.
Lift Off Ground: 230lbs.
Push or Drag: 575lbs.   
Languages
Common
Abyssal
Elven
Orcish
Summoner Spells Per Day
Level 1   4 + 1 [Cha]
Level 2   2 + 1 [Cha]
   Summoner Spells Known
Level 0   6
Level 1   4
Level 2   3
Special Abilities
Other Race Name Tiefling
Racial Abilities:
Defense Racial Traits

Fiendish Resistance: Tieflings have cold resistance 5, electricity resistance 5, and fire resistance 5.
Feat and Skill Racial Traits

Skilled: Tieflings gain a +2 racial bonus on Bluff and Stealth checks.
Magical Racial Traits

Spell-like ability: Tieflings can use darkness once per day as a spell-like ability. The caster level for this ability equals the tiefling's class level.
Senses Racial Traits

Darkvision: Tieflings can see perfectly in the dark for up to 60 feet.
Other Racial Traits

Fiendish Sorcery: Tiefling sorcerers with the Abyssal or Infernal bloodlines treat their Charisma score as 2 points higher for all sorcerer class abilities.
Summoner
Shield Ally
Bond Senses
Cantrips
Eidolon
Life Link
Summon Monster 3




Experience Points   0

Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Mazon Ironhide
Female Half-Orc Cleric 5 | [True Neutral]   
DESCRIPTION
Age 25
Looks Black hair, Yellow eyes
Height/Weight 6'2" tall, 168lbs. (Medium)
Homeland ____________________
Deity Gorum
Campaign ____________________
Representing Steamdriver
STRENGTH
15 (+2)   
HIT POINTS
HP 51
Current HP

DEXTERITY
12 (+1)
CONSTITUTION
17 (+3)
INTELLIGENCE
10 (+0)
WISDOM
18 (+4)
CHARISMA
15 (+2)

Initiative +3 = 1 [Dex] +2 [Reactionary]
Action Points (Lifetime) 9
SKILLS
SKILL   Total + Ability Mod. + Ranks + Misc.
Acrobatics*   +2 = DEX 1+1+0
Appraise   +0 = INT 0+0+0
Bluff   +2 = CHA 2+0+0
Climb*   +3 = STR 2+1+0
Craft   +0 = INT 0+0+0
Craft   +0 = INT 0+0+0
Craft   +0 = INT 0+0+0
Diplomacy   +2 = CHA 2+0+0
Disable Device*†   +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Disguise   +2 = CHA 2+0+0
Escape Artist*   +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Fly*   +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Handle Animal†   +2 = CHA 2+0+0
Heal   +10 = WIS 4+3+3
Intimidate   +4 = CHA 2+0+0+2 [half-orc]
K (Arcana)†   +0 = INT 0+0+0
K (Dungeoneering)†   +0 = INT 0+0+0
K (Engineering)†   +0 = INT 0+0+0
K (Geography)†   +0 = INT 0+0+0
K (History)†   +0 = INT 0+0+0
K (Local)†   +0 = INT 0+0+0
K (Nature)†   +0 = INT 0+0+0
K (Nobility)†   +0 = INT 0+0+0
K (Planes)†   +0 = INT 0+0+0
K (Religion)†   +6 = INT 0+3+3
Linguistics†   +0 = INT 0+0+0
Perception   +6 = WIS 4+2+0
Perform   +2 = CHA 2+0+0
Perform   +2 = CHA 2+0+0
Profession†   +4 = WIS 4+0+0
Profession†   +4 = WIS 4+0+0
Ride   +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Sense Motive   +4 = WIS 4+0+0
Sleight of Hand*†   +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Spellcraft†   +0 = INT 0+0+0
Stealth*   +1 = DEX 1+0+0
Survival   +4 = WIS 4+0+0
Swim*   +2 = STR 2+0+0
Use Magic Device†   +2 = CHA 2+0+0


* Armor Check Penalty -1
† Trained Only

EQUIPMENT
Kit, Cleric's
Kit, Chronicler's
Kit, Cooking
Hammer
Shovel
Crowbar

NOTES

Base Speed [ 30 (6 sq.) ]

AC [15] = 10 +4 [MW Armored Coat] +1 [Dex]
Touch AC [11]    Flat-Footed [14]

BASE ATTACK BONUS
+3
Basic Melee Attack +5
Basic Ranged Attack +4

Weapon
Attack Bonus
Critical
+1 Shocking Greataxe      x3
S         1D12 +1 +1D6
Type
Range
Ammo
Damage

FORTITUDE SAVE
+7    = 4 [base] +3 [Con]
REFLEX SAVE
+2    = 1 [base] +1 [Dex]
WILL SAVE
+9    = 4 [base] +4 [Wis] +1 [legacy of the sand]

CMB
+5    = 3 [BAB] +2 [Str] +0 [size]
CMD
+16    = 10 +3 [BAB] +2 [Str] +1 [Dex] +0 [size]
FEATS
Power Attack
Quick Draw
Toughness

TRAITS
Reactionary
Legacy of Sand (Half-Orc)
CARRYING CAPACITY
Light Load: 66lbs.
Medium Load: 133lbs.
Heavy Load: 200lbs.
Lift Over Head: 200lbs.
Lift Off Ground: 400lbs.
Push or Drag: 1000lbs.   
LANGUAGES
Common
Orc
Cleric Spells Per Day
Level 1   3 + 1 [Wis] + 1 [Domain]
Level 2   2 + 1 [Wis] + 1 [Domain]
Level 3   1 + 1 [Wis] + 1 [Domain]
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Half-Orc
Darkvision 60 feet
Intimidating: +2 Intimidate
Orc Blood: Half-orcs count as both humans and orcs for any racial effect.
Orc Ferocity: 1/day, if brought below 0hp but not killed, a half-orc can act normally for one further round before dropping.
Weapon Familiarity: greataxes, falchions. Any weapon with 'orc' in its name is treated as a martial weapon.
Bonus Languages: Abyssal, Draconic, Giant, Gnoll, Goblin

Cleric
Aura
Domains Strength, War
Orisons
Channel Energy 3d6
positive 5/day



EXPERIENCE POINTS
0

Among the hustle and bustle of the dock side markets of Absolum, many of the exotic and half breed races are forced to live. For them life is harsh, many cruel or even hostile. Long has there been talk of finding new lands for themselves, many have tried, but the few whom return do so inches from death. Being a half blood in these times can even spell you death for that reason alone. A new sun is rising though, the winds of change have started to blow. Who though is it that will let this wind take them, change them to a leader of the beaten and desperate? Who will rise and change the fate of so many, building a new nation, one of real equality and hopefully... peace?

A robed and hooded traveler, weary from many weeks at sea staggers down the gang plank eager for dry land beneath his feet. Moments after the dregs of society rush him, begging for mere coppers, trying to hawk rusted junk and petty trinkets. All around the usual chaos of port trade is booming. Massive men, seeming bred to carry crates are doing just that, heedless to anything around them. Half an hour goes by as our Traveler works his way through the crowds, drawn by a strange metallic beat, a voice raised above it.

Does the Traveler follow the sound to find what is going on or where does he go?

[TheHangedOne]

His time spent at sea was not a particularly wondrous part of his journey; though in his time wandering, he has certainly had it rougher. Still, he is glad to finally be on solid land again; no more pitching, and heaving. No more creaking and groaning of the ship. It actually feels a little odd, but, he finds his 'land legs' soon enough.

His simple armor, if one could really call it that, did more to conceal his visage and appearance more than anything else. He's had his share of rough times over who and what he was; times he's only ever really scraped by with the aid of his Eidolon, which currently remained unsummoned. There was no need for them at the moment; it would just make a panic, or a spectacle.

However, when he finds himself practically swarmed, he kind of wishes he had changed his mind about keeping the Eidolon off in whatever realm it liked to dwell in. He'd settle, instead, for gentle but firm gestures with the butt of his spear, to part the crowd and make his way forward. Over the calls of hawkers and beggars, he thought he could hear another voice; one that had a greater purpose.  It was in that general direction he would continue. There was another sound, too, which he couldn't quite place.

[Steamdriver]

Finally emerging from the mass of people, the traveler finds himself on a poorly cobbled street, more mud and muck than stone. Lining both sides are tri-storied, slightly leaning buildings. From some the sounds of drunken sailors can be heard, others clearly warehouses. Bods and doxies hang from occasional windows, promising sweet nothings, showing more flesh to some in hope of drawing a customer. Over it all though the metallic beat keeps on, the voice now clearly a female, carries on with what now sound like sermons yet also a battle hymn. Every so often a word can be made out, "Stand.... Hold strong.... Rise with...." The sounds seem to be coming from a square, though by its looks the square is the guts of a destroyed warehouse. Half a brick wall separates it from the street, blocking your view of all but some of the gathered crowd.

[TheHangedOne]

Occasionally, he was distracted; and really, what man in his right mind wouldn't be? But,  as much as there was that part of him that wanted to slake his hunger and thirst--and more than that which was directed towards food and drink-- there was the sharp, intellectual part of him, chock full of curiosity, that assured him that he could handle those needs and wants later on. For now, there was something else of far more interest; something which could very well go missed.

As he got closer, and could hear some of the words, he'd stare at the wall.  A short breath is inhaled, and then exhaled in a quiet huff. However, no wall goes on forever; so he simply follows it along, hoping to eventually find either a gap that allows him to take a peek, or an actual break in the wall that would gain him entrance to this impromptu 'square'.  He had only just arrived here, and whatever the person was yelling about must be important. It would pay well to hear, perhaps find someone to ask some questions; to get a better lay of the land, as it were.

[Steamdriver]

Reaching a break in the wall the man finds himself at the back of the crowd. Most of the people are obvious half breeds, openly showing what marks them as other than human. Short green halflings clearly the spawn of goblins, attempt to climb the backs of the taller ones only to be bucked off to the ground. Many teiflings are scattered about, never gathering into more then a pair, each as bizarre and beautiful as the next. Brutish half orcs ring the crowd, beating fists on anything metal. Towering above all the rest are three half ogres though only one seems to really know what is going on, the other two doing little more than drooling.

A crude stage stands before the crowd, upon it stand a cluster of armored figures. They are the ones leading the metallic beat, smashing gauntlet to shield. While they are impressive they are nothing compared to the amazonian woman standing at the very edge of the stage, voice raised in attempt to rouse the crowd to her cause.

"For to long we have be used given nothing in return for our toil. GORUM has called me to guide you, MY brothers and sisters, to a new land. This land will not be given to us, no, WE MUST CARVE IT OUT OURSELVES. With HIS steel we will drive the beast from that land and with HIS steel we shall DEFEND it from those who think them our betters. THEY think we are WEAK, that we know nothing but our toil, but OH how they are WRONG. That toil has shown us how STRONG we are, how deep our WILL. With His steel and OUR heart we will be VICTORIOUS, we will have our LAND."

The cleric reaches into a belt pouch and pulls out a shard of armor on a thin iron chain.

"The god of IRON has blessed us with this TOKEN. Though now it is WEAK, it is because we have not found the WORTHY to LEAD. WHO among you will it be, FOR I have seen that it will be one HERE today. Which of you are BRAVE enough to grasp this TOKEN and lead us to this new land, united under THEIR banner?"

The traveler feels a strange pull to the Token, though it is an item of another god. Almost like it wishes him to grasp it.

Roll a will save d20 + will modifier.

[TheHangedOne]

As he listened to the impassioned speech, and took in the sights, he couldn't help but feel the whole thing was... well, a little silly. How likely was anything to come of this?  Cynicism took hold readily enough. Most of these people were probably worthless, most likely content with what little they did have, or enjoyed being able to complain; and they all just banded together to do just that. Complain. Life sucks, people are assholes... they'll talk and talk, and they'll feel better because they think they're doing something, and nothing will happen.

Well, that's what he's expecting. Cynicism comes easily to him; it probably came quite easily to many of the bastard races, though perhaps especially, he thought, to Tieflings. And yet, there was something odd about the whole thing; something alluring. More than just that amazingly well-built woman, too; that trinket of hers. Little more than a bauble, perhaps, but of religious value. It looked... surprisingly interesting.

He watched it for what felt like minutes, but was only seconds, and almost before he knew it, he was approaching the impromptu stage. Without any ado at all, without any introduction, without any sort of threatening behavior or even much acknowledgement of the crowd itself, he would walk straight up to the half-orc.  His spear would shift over into his left hand, the butt of it resting against the ground, some of his weight against the weapon. He used it almost like a walking stick, at the moment. His right hand would slowly extend outwards to the woman, palm up. "Let me see that." He'd say. Voice even, fairly flat, with a hint of... was it an attitude? No, not really. Just a bit of an accent, or some quirk of his biology.  He wanted to get a closer look at it. He wasn't quite sure why, it just seemed like the best idea he's had all day.

[Steamdriver]

The amazonian cleric looks down onto the hooded man, both respect and disgust written on her features. "Ah Gorum has called you, child of Irori, very well you may try and hold the Shard. Do not fear the touch of Gorum, for it may burn you, yet if you are worthy of it you shall be spared its agony." The cleric then places the shard into his hand, causing a small gash to open on his palm. The moment blood welled from the wound a searing flames burst around it and his other hand, licking at his robe but not lighting it.

(5 points of fire damage which you resist)

The shard melted ad if thrown into a forge, the molten metal running to encase both hands. As it cold the man noticed not a single sound was made, the crowd stunned to silence. Seconds after they covered his hands details on them began to form. Every inch was decorated, yet deadly. These were clearly a relic of a forgotten age.

http://cdn.staticneo.com/w/princeofpersia/thumb/1/1b/The_Gauntlet.jpg/200px-The_Gauntlet.jpg

The cleric fell to her knees in shock at the sight before her before stuttering out. "The h.. ha.. Hands of the Warlock King. Gorum has spoken and blessed you with a mighty relic. You, traveler, are to be the one that will unite us. I am Mazon Ironhide, Cleric of Gorum. From this day forth I pledge my blade to you and will do battle in your name.  Please grace us by removing your hood."

[TheHangedOne]

He didn't seem at all hesitant, even though under other circumstances, he would be pretty damn nervous; mostly because of the fact that there are so many eyes on him. It was unnerving, dragged up some unpleasant memories; experiences he was quite certain weren't truly unique to him. Things many of his kind, and probably many of the gathered here, had to deal with.

He felt the prick, and felt the heat, but at the same time, there was no real pain or true sensation. More like a figment of a sensation.  It filled him with a bit of curiosity, and he watched as the shard of metal that he would ordinarily call junk changed its appearance.  Once it had fully changed, he seemed to spend more time looking over them than anything else.

Words were spoken, however. The half-orc was speaking, and it dragged him away from his quiet contemplation of the magical item which he now held. He could feel its power thrumming pleasantly, and while he felt the urge to just settle down somewhere quiet and analyze it more thoroughly, that simply was not possible at this time.

"Please, stand up, Mazon." Gods above, was this a dream? A trick?  He typically found refuge in such skepticism. Yet, it was hard to muster up much of it.

There was now hesitation in what she asked. He wore such clothing to try and save him from ridicule and the persecution of the crowd, even though it made him stick out in its own way. And she was... well, asking him to willingly stop hiding, something that had become a natural instinct to him. And yet, he could see no real harm in it, after a moments contemplation. He was amongst those whom were treated the same as he, after all.

He would push back the hood of the faintly magical garb, a bit awkwardly, hands unaccustomed to having anything on them.  His skin was pale with a slight red quality to it; very slight.  One might mistake it for some sort of odd tan, but coupled with the other features that become noticeable, it is pretty clear that he's not just an oddly tanned human. Oh no. Horns started right around the center of his forehead, and curved around the side of his head, creating something almost like a circlet of bone. The ends of the horn met at the back of his neck, barely touching each other and his skin. His orange eyes also marked him  as quite odd, hinting at an ancestry rich in magic of one sort or another.

After turning about, slowly taking in the sight of the crowd, and letting them see him for what he was, he would turn his attention to the woman named Mazon. Voice kept quiet so as not to be heard, he'd say "I have no clue what's going on here, or what you expect of me." The way he sounded, this was something that was half an expression of skepticism, and half a request for help.

[Steamdriver]

Mazon spoke low enough that only he could hear her. "I knew I smelt the blood of a devil in you. What you must do is simple, rouse the crowd. Gain them as your followers and they will do much for you. A land can be carved out by one man but a kingdom can only come from the works of many." She paused for a moment to gather her words.

"Show them you are the one that will lift them from this cesspool they live in. Once they know that you will they will, have them spread your word to the winds. Each one of them can bring another 10 to our gathering. From them we can raise an army worthy of any, all beneath your banner."

To rouse the crowd roll any of the following, Bluff, Diplomacy or Intimedate. Same way for any roll a D20 and add your skill mod to it. For this roll you have a bonus mod of +5 because they witnessed the shard turning into the relic.

[TheHangedOne]

Her comment about smelling the blood of a devil in him did not seem to affect him one way or another. Under different circumstances, he'd have probably conjured up his Eidolon to spook her; but she wasn't some pitchfork wielding human or scornful elf, so he lets it slide. "I hope you have a plan." He'd whisper back, before turning towards the crowd.

Generally, Zaron was not good at doing things off-the-cuff. However, he gave it the best he could. "Everyone. I'm sure, though we're all different, from different places and of different stock, that we have all endured many of the same things. The scorn of ignorant folk and the ire and steel of zealots. Some of you may be like me, with not even a place worth calling home.  But, maybe we could have that. It's up to us to better our lot in life, and the power of the group exceeds the power of the individual. It'll be hard labor, but anything worth accomplishing is difficult. We can live and die amongst the dregs of societies that care little for our presence, or we can work to make a home for our kind."

She had mentioned getting them to spread his word to the wind. Well, he'd get to that in a moment, but first, he wanted to see if the crowd was going to buy what he was selling.

At 2013-09-14 19:07:30, TheHangedMan (uid: 12227) rolls: 1d20 Result: 13+7+5=25 (Diplomacy)