Wow. Not sure i can compete with that modron there, but I'll try!
Centaur (using the stats for Alseid, from kobold press' Midgard
Tier 1 Archmagesheet: http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=1103923
Roshario's life was mundane enough, if one considers being a carnival attraction "mundane." She was just another attraction in Master Menlo the Magnificent's Marvelous Meandering Menagerie. her earliest memories are of calliope music, the carnival barker calling out to visitors, and the gawping faces of attendants as they marveled at her, the "Horse-Girl from beyond the Emerald Sea" (wherever that was), or any of her friends, like Barsha the beardless dwarf, Iky the kobold trapezist, and the comic skulduggery of Blip, Blop, Blof and Dave, the Goblin Quintuplets (Bliz had an accident with the mastodon. it was unpleasant.) For her part, Roshario was a musician and dancer, more graceful on four legs than most people are on four, and aside from the horsey bits, supposedly remarkably fetching.
But despite the cheery atmosphere, the carnival was entirely under Menlo's iron thumb. The gnome was a master of manipulation and control, and even if someone wished to escape his clutch, he would find a way to keep them. So Roshario found out by accident, when she wandered off to explore the surrounding countryside after a particularly long showing. when the Quintuplets collected her and brought her back to Menlo, he informed her of how much he had paid to buy her. Then how much her board cost. Her costumes. her instruments. her part of the rent he paid for each stop. All of these years. "So you see, my pretty Roshi, that you're stuck with us until all that is paid off!"
This revelation tore at Roshi, especially as she was coming to an age where going everywhere else seemed to be overriding. The second time she slipped away, her reward was a sound beating - not on her pretty face or valuable dancing legs, no, but a beating nevertheless. Suddenly home seemed a lot less fun. She felt she would be doomed to captivity, but fate thought otherwise. While ferrying across a small gulf towards the islands of a rich prince, a freak storm came from the southwest, sending the ferry and its occupants to the bottom. Well, most of the occupants.
Roshi awoke on a foreign shore, with nothing more than her sodden clothing, a warped flute, and a bad case of sunburn. She waited nearly three days, until she realized that Menlo wasn't going to crawl out of the water to collect her, and she answered her hungry belly. From village to hamlet to town she traveled this land, learning new songs, meeting new people. She traveled with adventurers, fought gnolls and goblins and kobolds, and learned some elementary magic to enhance her performance and to keep her traveling allies hale and hearty. And every step, it seemed, led her ever eastward. Towards the Emerald Sea.
At the oasis town of Khargat, she parted ways from the caravan she was traveling with, and her companions of nearly two years - they had urged her not to go, but the draw of finding out about her people was too great to ignore! Sadly the reality was... far from imagination. The centaurs of the Emerald Sea were large, brutish. warlike creatures. She was a runt among their number, and frustratingly, a mare in their stallion-dominated society. The few magics she knew were noted, but hardly as impressive as the terrors called from the sky by the storm shamans, or the powerful fate-weavings of the boneseers. Unable to find a place among "her people" that didn't involve being the least member of some bataar's harem, she decided to explore.
She found a niche as a lore-hunter, learning about the tribes of her people, their allies, enemies, and trade partners. She traded songs and stories, and even found herself adopting some of their primal ways (her own attempts to teach them about her own favored traditions largely fell on deaf ears, however.) One notion in particular seemed a recurring theme; that the centaur tribes had once been one people, united, under a great bataar, whose tomb was now lost forever. Piqued, she followed every story she could about this "Great bataar," and followed it ever northward, into the cold steppes.
There, in lands declared taboo by the existing tribes, she found ruins. Ancient kurgans marked the death-sites of mighty chieftains, obelisks sang praises to bataar and kings and dragons and all manner of mighty things. The further she traveled, the more magic seemed to fill the air, until she reached the monolith. Standing out of a shallow valley in the countryside, it was a pillar of black iron, worked smooth by tireless hands, inscribed with odd sigils and markings. Two days, she spent studying the thing, mouthing out the inscriptions. When she finally sounded them together, each rune lit in a pale violet flame, until the whole rockface glowed. Curiosity overriding her common sense, she reached out to touch the iron...
And fell through the portal, a hole punched between planes by the descent of this object. Once again, she found herself on foreign shores, arcane energies still flickering around her, seeping into her... When it was gone, she felt eyes upon her and, looking skyward, saw beauty itself. Even her agile tongue and quick mind can't quite put together what it was she saw, but it's left her changed, and with a determination to find out all she can about where she has found herself...
Roshario can come across as a naif to many people. she assumes the best (at first), is always looking to meet new and interesting people, and is more prone to curiosity than is probably healthy. Some might even assume she's a little... touched. But hte truth is, she's an optimist, something hard to find in most worlds in the material, let alone the planes. She genuinely likes
people (and other things) and wants to know their stories. But beyond the propensity towards non-sequitors and rambling "plans," she's actually pretty sharp, even cunning, in her way. when things go down, she's ready to go.Appearance:
Anyone familiar with centaurs would be quite surprised by Roshario; for one, she's small and slight of build, more like a deer than a powerful warhorse, more like an elf than the ogrish brutes of the steppes. her hair - both her tresses and her long tail - are a flaxen blonde, most often gathered into braids or tails, often decorated with bells and chimes. Her eyes are a clear, liquid brown color, set into a sun-warmed but otherwise fair face, dotted with a few freckles. Her torso is lithe and limber, her bare arms and exposed belly showing supple muscle. Below there, her body takes the form of a slender buckskin horse or pony, powerful yet slim legs each ending in a single hoof (painted, when she can find time). her garb is sparse, usually consisting simply of some short or vest to cover her breasts, and a simple harness around her hips and withers to carry gear.Sexuality:
Roshario reveres Shelyn, who teaches there is beauty in all things. So far as Roshario can tell, that adage is usually
true. Unfortunately a lot of things out there don't want or like beauty. From among those who do, however, Roshario's seen no cause to be overly picky. Of course, the fact that her anatomy is exactly what you'd think it would be has made things more difficult. Roshario is a pansexual, with her only real limits for a lover being of an intelligent species with a basically humanoid form... but really it all comes down to the individual, doesn't it?
I'm hoping to advance her towards a Paladin or Cleric of Shelyn, possibly taking advantage of the Dual Path Feat to do so.
Hit die roll: 1d8 + 3, 8, 8,
+1 Con per die, +5 FCB, +3 Mythic teir = 39
I'm not 100% sure i understand the alternate WBL system going on there; I constructed my sheet using standard pathfinder rules and just left equipment off.