Post by Talathel Norovir on Apr 29, 2013 20:01:17 GMT -5
Name: Ruusan Deeplight
Race: Elan (formerly human)
Class: Soulknife (Gifted Blade archetype)
Level: 1
Homeland: Numeria
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Languages: Common, Hallit
Abilities:
Str: 19 | +4
Dex: 14 | +2
Con: 16 | +3
Int: 13 | +1
Wis: 14 | +2
Cha: 11 | +0
Basics:
HP: 13
BAB: +1
AC: 16 (+4 Chain Shirt, +2 Dex)
Saves:
Fort: +3 (+0 base, +3 Con)
Ref: +4 (+2 base, +2 Dex)
Will: +4 (+2 base, +2 Wis)
Racial:
+2 to one ability score: Elans gain a +2 bonus to one ability score chosen at creation to represent their varied nature.
Aberrant Blood: Elans are of the humanoid (aberrant) subtype.
Medium: Elan are Medium creatures and have no bonuses or penalties due to their size.
Normal Speed: Elans have a base speed of 30 feet.
Aberrant Nature: Although human in appearance, elans suffer from a nature slightly off from the rest of the non-elan society. They suffer a -1 penalty to Charisma-based skill checks when dealing with non-elans.
Naturally Psionic: Elans gain the Wild Talent feat as a bonus feat at 1st level. If an elan takes levels in a psionic class, she instead gains the Psionic Talent feat.
Resistance (Su): Elans can use psionic energy to increase their resistance to various forms of attack. As an immediate action, an elan can spend 1 power point to gain a +4 racial bonus on saving throws until the beginning of her next action.
Resilience (Su): When an elan takes damage, he can spend power points to reduce its severity. As an immediate action, he can reduce the damage he is about to take by 2 hit points for every 1 power point he spends.
Repletion (Su): An elan can sustain his body without need of food or water. If he spends 1 power point, an elan does not need to eat or drink for 24 hours.
Psionic Aptitude: When an elan takes a level in a favored class, he can choose to gain an additional power point instead of a hit point or skill point.
Languages: Elans begin play speaking Common. Elans with high Intelligence scores can choose any languages they want (except secret languages, such as Druidic).
Class Abilities:
Form Mind Blade (currently two-handed mind blade, slashing damage)
Shape Mind Blade
Throw Mind Blade
Feats:
1 - Toppling Power
C - Unlocked Talent (Energy Ray)
C - Power Attack
R - Psionic Talent
F - Access Psionic Talent
Flaws:
-Exiled (Numeria)
Traits:
Perceptive Talent: While maintaining psionic focus you are more aware on a subliminal level of the thoughts and intentions of those around you. You gain a +1 trait bonus on initiative and on Sense Motive checks while you are psionically focused. This talent grants no benefit if you do not have the ability to gain psionic focus.
Suspicious: You gain a +1 trait bonus on Sense Motive checks, and Sense Motive is always a class skill for you.
Skills:
Acrobatics +5 (1 rank, +2 Dex, +3 Trained -1 Armor Check Penalty)
Autohypnosis +6 (1 rank, +2 Wis, +3 Trained)
Craft (blacksmith) +5 (1 rank, +1 Int, +3 Trained)
Intimidate +5 (1 rank, +1 Cha +3 Trained)
Knowledge (engineering) +2 (1 rank, +1 Int)
Knowledge (psionics) +5 (1 rank, +1 Int +3 Trained)
Perception +6 (1 rank, +2 Wis +3 Trained)
Sense Motive +8 (1 rank, +2 Wis, +1 Perceptive Talent, +1 Suspicious +3 Trained)
Psionics:
PP - 5 (2 Unlocked Talent, 2 Psionic Talent, 1 Favored Class bonus)
Powers Known:
0th level (Talents): empathy, far hand, induce pain, missive, telekinetic punch
1st level : energy ray
Equipment:
Masterwork Chain Shirt
Adventurer's Outfit (heavy mantled cloak, otherwise standard)
Cash:
cp - 00
sp - 20
gp - 28
pp - 08
Background: Blacksmith
Additional Class Skill: Craft (blacksmithing)
Bonus Skill Ranks: +1 Craft (blacksmithing), +1 Knowledge (engineering)
Ability Score Modifiers: +1 STR. Years of toil before the forge strengthens a blacksmith’s muscles and puts steel in his or her spine.
Bonus Feat: Light and Medium Armor Proficiency, Simple and Martial Weapons Proficiency
Additional Equipment: select one masterwork quality Marital weapon, steel shield and chain shirt, 2d10 gp savings
Occupational Knack:
Powerful Build: You are treated as being one size category larger for the purpose of lifting and carrying limits and the size of weapons you can wield, as well as your Combat Maneuver Bonus and CMD Score. You are treated as being one size category larger when determining whether special abilities (such as Swallow Whole) can affect you.
Attack:
Mind Blade: +6 to hit (+1 Base Attack, +4 Str, +1 Masterwork); 3d6+6 slashing damage (treated as a magic weapon for DR purposes)
----
Age: 27
Height: 6'7"
Weight: 300 lbs
Hair Color: black/brown
Eye Color: Red
Appearance:
Ruusan is a very large man, and well muscled, bordering on bulky, with deeply tanned, weathered skin. Randomly placed on his body, patterns of short, wire-like filaments of metal, often adorned with one or more small points of red light that match the glow of his eyes, can be seen on or just under his skin. His hair is shoulder-length, a dark brown/black, and generally worn loose. His eyes smoulder a dull, sullen red, glowing very slightly; when his emotions run high, the glow intensifies, up to a bright, deep crimson. He wears ragged-looking blackened chain mail over dark grey traveling clothes and under a black mantled cloak, with tall black leather boots and gauntlets. Though he has the bearing a warrior, he carries no weapon on his person.
Backstory:
Ruusan is an Elan, and thus began his life as something else; He began his life human, as a member of a Kellid tribe in north-eastern Numeria. In his youth his tribe was raided by another, and he was stolen away. He was strong, and big for his age, and while they were unwilling to actually arm the willful youth, they put his strength to good use in their smithy. He spent the next several years as an indentured blacksmith, before forging himself a fine sword in secret, stealing what time he could to practice with it. Eventually, he entered the tribe's fighting pits, and his freedom, and a place within the tribe.
Many years later, Ruusan - now a fairly skilled and respected warrior of his tribe - was traveling through the wastelands of Numeria with a small group of his tribesmen, escorting an elder into the territory of a rival tribe, to discuss terms of peace and common cause against a third and larger tribe. As the traveled, a small raiding party from the third tribe attacked, hoping to prevent the alliance against them. The rest of his party killed, Ruusan was badly injured, and fled into the Felldales. He wandered there for most of day, until he came upon a strange metal monolith, rising from the ground. Ruusan approached it, and when he laid his hand on it, colorful lights sprang to life on it’s surface, and a force he could not see held his hand fast in place. After a brief moment, the lights all turned a uniform red, and the metal object disgorged a silvery cloud, which quickly moved to envelop him.
The cloud healed his injuries, but also changed him. It enhanced his body, and awakened his mind. Suddenly he was overwhelmed, with both power, and the knowledge of how to use it; His intimate knowledge of weaponcraft shaped the new power welling up in his mind; the result was a perfect blade, made in the image of his old iron sword but better in every way, forged from his will to live, his hatred for his enemies, from the new psionic power thrumming through his mind. It glowed in the night, a crimson shaft of light with which to cut down all who opposed him.
His new weapon in hand, his mind afire with this strange new power, he returned to where he had fought the previous day, and tracked down the group who had killed his tribesmen. This proved an easy task, as they too had suffered greatly from the fight, and were slowed considerably by their wounded, and a lack of urgency born of their certainty that Ruusan would perish the Felldales. Ruusan found them, and slaughtered them. He took the head of their leader, and brought it to the clan they had sought an alliance with, hoping to use it to secure their cooperation.
He was never admitted to see their elders. The tribe’s sentries looked at him and called him cursed, for it was not only his mind that had been changed by the cloud; his eyes smoldered, glowing a deep, sullen red that flared to bright crimson when his emotions ran hot. His body, while still recognizably his own, moved with a new found grace and strength, and faint traceries of metal peppered with points of faint light the same red as his eyes now showed randomly on his skin. He was changed - for the better, he knew - but all they could see was the “taint” of the Felldales on him, and refused to admit him to their lands, lest it spread and corrupt their people.
Furious, Ruusan returned to his own people, to tell them of the cowardice of the tribe they had approached. He would lead his people to victory himself; he was strong now, his thoughts clearer and sharper than they ever had been before. They did not need an alliance; they would crush the larger tribe, and then strike down the tribe that had called him cursed. But his own tribe greeted him in much the way the other had. When he reached the border of his tribes lands, they stopped him, forced him to wait while the elders of the tribe debated what ha happened to him, and his fate. When a day had passed, and one of the council arrived to deliver their judgment, Ruusan was outraged. They called him tainted. They called him cursed. They called him corrupted. Then, they tried to kill him.
This was a mistake. He killed the three who had confronted and detained him at the edges of his tribe's territory, as well as the elder’s honor guard, but was snared by the magic of the elder himself. As Ruusan stood there - fuming, unable to move - he realized something. In his current state, he could not overcome the leadership of his tribe (in truth, he would need to overcome the entire tribe, as until the leaders fell, the others would stand with them) by himself; he would cause great damage, and kill many warriors, but in the end, he would be defeated.
Fortunately for him, the elder also realized this, and was unwilling to pay such a cost to ride them of this one accursed wretch. And so he instead looked at Ruusan, into his bright, burning eyes, and told him to go. Ruusan was banished, outcast, no longer a member of the tribe, nor welcome in it’s lands. If he stayed away, he would be permitted to live out his cursed life in whatever peace he could find for himself; If he tried to return, he would be turned away; if he persisted, he would be destroyed, no matter the cost to the tribe. Then the elder left him, still bound in place, to wait for the spell to expire.
By the time he was again free, Ruusan’s rage had cooled to a quite, simmering hate. This was good. The hatred gave him strength, but did not cloud his mind. He wanted to destroy the elders of his tribe, claim it for his own, and use it to claim the other tribes of the Kellids, one by one. Once the Kellids were his, united for the first time, there would be little that could stop him.
But these, he knew, were long term goals. He would need to grow, first. Refine the power of his mind, and of his body. Gather resources. Make himself a force to be reckoned with, on a larger scale than a simple fight. Most of all, he would need allies. Ruusan knew that, as mighty as he might someday become, no man could move mountains by himself. With a few others, though, anything was possible. Allies he could trust, to cover his weaknesses and gain from his strengths, would be the difference between falling on some distant battlefield in obscurity, and conquering all they surveyed.
To this end, Ruusan traveled. At first mostly aimlessly, as he knew little of the world outside Numeria's borders. He learned much during this time; he learned to read and write, to navigate a currency-based economy (as opposed to trade-based), to speak the common tongue with skill and grace, and without the telltale accents of his homeland. Most importantly, he learned of Absalom. The City at the Center of the World. Where anything could be found, and anything could be done. That was where he would find allies. That was where the next step in his journey would begin. Of that, he was certain.
Favorite Food: roasted venison
Favorite Color: crimson
Life-Goals: take revenge on the elders of his former tribe, conquer all the Kellid tribes of Numeria, master the arts of swordsmanship and the strange new powers of his mind, learn to transform others as he himself has been transformed.
Fears: Defeat in battle; death in obscurity; that he has misunderstood the nature of the changes he has undergone, and thus that the power he has gained from them will be lost to him one day.
Loves: The sounds of battle; the silence of an empty road; the feel of his mind blade thrumming softly in his hand; sparring/dueling with competent opponents; walking alone by moonlight.
Race: Elan (formerly human)
Class: Soulknife (Gifted Blade archetype)
Level: 1
Homeland: Numeria
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Languages: Common, Hallit
Abilities:
Str: 19 | +4
Dex: 14 | +2
Con: 16 | +3
Int: 13 | +1
Wis: 14 | +2
Cha: 11 | +0
Basics:
HP: 13
BAB: +1
AC: 16 (+4 Chain Shirt, +2 Dex)
Saves:
Fort: +3 (+0 base, +3 Con)
Ref: +4 (+2 base, +2 Dex)
Will: +4 (+2 base, +2 Wis)
Racial:
+2 to one ability score: Elans gain a +2 bonus to one ability score chosen at creation to represent their varied nature.
Aberrant Blood: Elans are of the humanoid (aberrant) subtype.
Medium: Elan are Medium creatures and have no bonuses or penalties due to their size.
Normal Speed: Elans have a base speed of 30 feet.
Aberrant Nature: Although human in appearance, elans suffer from a nature slightly off from the rest of the non-elan society. They suffer a -1 penalty to Charisma-based skill checks when dealing with non-elans.
Naturally Psionic: Elans gain the Wild Talent feat as a bonus feat at 1st level. If an elan takes levels in a psionic class, she instead gains the Psionic Talent feat.
Resistance (Su): Elans can use psionic energy to increase their resistance to various forms of attack. As an immediate action, an elan can spend 1 power point to gain a +4 racial bonus on saving throws until the beginning of her next action.
Resilience (Su): When an elan takes damage, he can spend power points to reduce its severity. As an immediate action, he can reduce the damage he is about to take by 2 hit points for every 1 power point he spends.
Repletion (Su): An elan can sustain his body without need of food or water. If he spends 1 power point, an elan does not need to eat or drink for 24 hours.
Psionic Aptitude: When an elan takes a level in a favored class, he can choose to gain an additional power point instead of a hit point or skill point.
Languages: Elans begin play speaking Common. Elans with high Intelligence scores can choose any languages they want (except secret languages, such as Druidic).
Class Abilities:
Form Mind Blade (currently two-handed mind blade, slashing damage)
Shape Mind Blade
Throw Mind Blade
Feats:
1 - Toppling Power
C - Unlocked Talent (Energy Ray)
C - Power Attack
R - Psionic Talent
F - Access Psionic Talent
Flaws:
-Exiled (Numeria)
Traits:
Perceptive Talent: While maintaining psionic focus you are more aware on a subliminal level of the thoughts and intentions of those around you. You gain a +1 trait bonus on initiative and on Sense Motive checks while you are psionically focused. This talent grants no benefit if you do not have the ability to gain psionic focus.
Suspicious: You gain a +1 trait bonus on Sense Motive checks, and Sense Motive is always a class skill for you.
Skills:
Acrobatics +5 (1 rank, +2 Dex, +3 Trained -1 Armor Check Penalty)
Autohypnosis +6 (1 rank, +2 Wis, +3 Trained)
Craft (blacksmith) +5 (1 rank, +1 Int, +3 Trained)
Intimidate +5 (1 rank, +1 Cha +3 Trained)
Knowledge (engineering) +2 (1 rank, +1 Int)
Knowledge (psionics) +5 (1 rank, +1 Int +3 Trained)
Perception +6 (1 rank, +2 Wis +3 Trained)
Sense Motive +8 (1 rank, +2 Wis, +1 Perceptive Talent, +1 Suspicious +3 Trained)
Psionics:
PP - 5 (2 Unlocked Talent, 2 Psionic Talent, 1 Favored Class bonus)
Powers Known:
0th level (Talents): empathy, far hand, induce pain, missive, telekinetic punch
1st level : energy ray
Equipment:
Masterwork Chain Shirt
Adventurer's Outfit (heavy mantled cloak, otherwise standard)
Cash:
cp - 00
sp - 20
gp - 28
pp - 08
Background: Blacksmith
Additional Class Skill: Craft (blacksmithing)
Bonus Skill Ranks: +1 Craft (blacksmithing), +1 Knowledge (engineering)
Ability Score Modifiers: +1 STR. Years of toil before the forge strengthens a blacksmith’s muscles and puts steel in his or her spine.
Bonus Feat: Light and Medium Armor Proficiency, Simple and Martial Weapons Proficiency
Additional Equipment: select one masterwork quality Marital weapon, steel shield and chain shirt, 2d10 gp savings
Occupational Knack:
Powerful Build: You are treated as being one size category larger for the purpose of lifting and carrying limits and the size of weapons you can wield, as well as your Combat Maneuver Bonus and CMD Score. You are treated as being one size category larger when determining whether special abilities (such as Swallow Whole) can affect you.
Attack:
Mind Blade: +6 to hit (+1 Base Attack, +4 Str, +1 Masterwork); 3d6+6 slashing damage (treated as a magic weapon for DR purposes)
----
Age: 27
Height: 6'7"
Weight: 300 lbs
Hair Color: black/brown
Eye Color: Red
Appearance:
Ruusan is a very large man, and well muscled, bordering on bulky, with deeply tanned, weathered skin. Randomly placed on his body, patterns of short, wire-like filaments of metal, often adorned with one or more small points of red light that match the glow of his eyes, can be seen on or just under his skin. His hair is shoulder-length, a dark brown/black, and generally worn loose. His eyes smoulder a dull, sullen red, glowing very slightly; when his emotions run high, the glow intensifies, up to a bright, deep crimson. He wears ragged-looking blackened chain mail over dark grey traveling clothes and under a black mantled cloak, with tall black leather boots and gauntlets. Though he has the bearing a warrior, he carries no weapon on his person.
Backstory:
Ruusan is an Elan, and thus began his life as something else; He began his life human, as a member of a Kellid tribe in north-eastern Numeria. In his youth his tribe was raided by another, and he was stolen away. He was strong, and big for his age, and while they were unwilling to actually arm the willful youth, they put his strength to good use in their smithy. He spent the next several years as an indentured blacksmith, before forging himself a fine sword in secret, stealing what time he could to practice with it. Eventually, he entered the tribe's fighting pits, and his freedom, and a place within the tribe.
Many years later, Ruusan - now a fairly skilled and respected warrior of his tribe - was traveling through the wastelands of Numeria with a small group of his tribesmen, escorting an elder into the territory of a rival tribe, to discuss terms of peace and common cause against a third and larger tribe. As the traveled, a small raiding party from the third tribe attacked, hoping to prevent the alliance against them. The rest of his party killed, Ruusan was badly injured, and fled into the Felldales. He wandered there for most of day, until he came upon a strange metal monolith, rising from the ground. Ruusan approached it, and when he laid his hand on it, colorful lights sprang to life on it’s surface, and a force he could not see held his hand fast in place. After a brief moment, the lights all turned a uniform red, and the metal object disgorged a silvery cloud, which quickly moved to envelop him.
The cloud healed his injuries, but also changed him. It enhanced his body, and awakened his mind. Suddenly he was overwhelmed, with both power, and the knowledge of how to use it; His intimate knowledge of weaponcraft shaped the new power welling up in his mind; the result was a perfect blade, made in the image of his old iron sword but better in every way, forged from his will to live, his hatred for his enemies, from the new psionic power thrumming through his mind. It glowed in the night, a crimson shaft of light with which to cut down all who opposed him.
His new weapon in hand, his mind afire with this strange new power, he returned to where he had fought the previous day, and tracked down the group who had killed his tribesmen. This proved an easy task, as they too had suffered greatly from the fight, and were slowed considerably by their wounded, and a lack of urgency born of their certainty that Ruusan would perish the Felldales. Ruusan found them, and slaughtered them. He took the head of their leader, and brought it to the clan they had sought an alliance with, hoping to use it to secure their cooperation.
He was never admitted to see their elders. The tribe’s sentries looked at him and called him cursed, for it was not only his mind that had been changed by the cloud; his eyes smoldered, glowing a deep, sullen red that flared to bright crimson when his emotions ran hot. His body, while still recognizably his own, moved with a new found grace and strength, and faint traceries of metal peppered with points of faint light the same red as his eyes now showed randomly on his skin. He was changed - for the better, he knew - but all they could see was the “taint” of the Felldales on him, and refused to admit him to their lands, lest it spread and corrupt their people.
Furious, Ruusan returned to his own people, to tell them of the cowardice of the tribe they had approached. He would lead his people to victory himself; he was strong now, his thoughts clearer and sharper than they ever had been before. They did not need an alliance; they would crush the larger tribe, and then strike down the tribe that had called him cursed. But his own tribe greeted him in much the way the other had. When he reached the border of his tribes lands, they stopped him, forced him to wait while the elders of the tribe debated what ha happened to him, and his fate. When a day had passed, and one of the council arrived to deliver their judgment, Ruusan was outraged. They called him tainted. They called him cursed. They called him corrupted. Then, they tried to kill him.
This was a mistake. He killed the three who had confronted and detained him at the edges of his tribe's territory, as well as the elder’s honor guard, but was snared by the magic of the elder himself. As Ruusan stood there - fuming, unable to move - he realized something. In his current state, he could not overcome the leadership of his tribe (in truth, he would need to overcome the entire tribe, as until the leaders fell, the others would stand with them) by himself; he would cause great damage, and kill many warriors, but in the end, he would be defeated.
Fortunately for him, the elder also realized this, and was unwilling to pay such a cost to ride them of this one accursed wretch. And so he instead looked at Ruusan, into his bright, burning eyes, and told him to go. Ruusan was banished, outcast, no longer a member of the tribe, nor welcome in it’s lands. If he stayed away, he would be permitted to live out his cursed life in whatever peace he could find for himself; If he tried to return, he would be turned away; if he persisted, he would be destroyed, no matter the cost to the tribe. Then the elder left him, still bound in place, to wait for the spell to expire.
By the time he was again free, Ruusan’s rage had cooled to a quite, simmering hate. This was good. The hatred gave him strength, but did not cloud his mind. He wanted to destroy the elders of his tribe, claim it for his own, and use it to claim the other tribes of the Kellids, one by one. Once the Kellids were his, united for the first time, there would be little that could stop him.
But these, he knew, were long term goals. He would need to grow, first. Refine the power of his mind, and of his body. Gather resources. Make himself a force to be reckoned with, on a larger scale than a simple fight. Most of all, he would need allies. Ruusan knew that, as mighty as he might someday become, no man could move mountains by himself. With a few others, though, anything was possible. Allies he could trust, to cover his weaknesses and gain from his strengths, would be the difference between falling on some distant battlefield in obscurity, and conquering all they surveyed.
To this end, Ruusan traveled. At first mostly aimlessly, as he knew little of the world outside Numeria's borders. He learned much during this time; he learned to read and write, to navigate a currency-based economy (as opposed to trade-based), to speak the common tongue with skill and grace, and without the telltale accents of his homeland. Most importantly, he learned of Absalom. The City at the Center of the World. Where anything could be found, and anything could be done. That was where he would find allies. That was where the next step in his journey would begin. Of that, he was certain.
Favorite Food: roasted venison
Favorite Color: crimson
Life-Goals: take revenge on the elders of his former tribe, conquer all the Kellid tribes of Numeria, master the arts of swordsmanship and the strange new powers of his mind, learn to transform others as he himself has been transformed.
Fears: Defeat in battle; death in obscurity; that he has misunderstood the nature of the changes he has undergone, and thus that the power he has gained from them will be lost to him one day.
Loves: The sounds of battle; the silence of an empty road; the feel of his mind blade thrumming softly in his hand; sparring/dueling with competent opponents; walking alone by moonlight.