Dice [Pathfinder] A story unfolds!

[Orikanyo]

please use Myth-Weavers - Powered by vBulletin for your character sheet, its free, offers a wide array of sheets for you to use.


Starting level: 1


Starting kit: 1 backpack,1 compass, 1 map, 1 cure light potions and one item of 500 worth or under.


Please also include your backstory and any relevant information you wish for others to know, any suprise things down the line? PM me, as the GM I gotta know it for us to do anything WITh it, don't expect me to be happy you summoned a dragon because you said you could.


For your stats roll 4d6 7 times, drop the lowest number in both accounts, and the others did a successful diplomacy for a 30 point build, if you don't like your roll go ahead and just do the 30 if you so wish.

 

[folclor]

Here's my character sheet:


Myth-Weavers Online Character Sheets


Backstory:


Amaya Hale was born in Nex, though she doesn’t remember the name of the city. Calamity befell it when she had only passed 5 winters. A senior priest of Urgathoa began a reaping and devastated the city. He killed everyone he came across. When he came across Amaya, however, it is said he received a vision from Lady Despair, declaring to him that this girl was to serve her.


Amaya passed the next 11 years as a captive in a cult in the depths of Geb. After 11 years she managed to get far enough away that they could have no dominion over her. She tore off the unholy robes of the accursed order and ran like hell. She only stopped when she had to, eventually collapsing on the doorstep of a temple of Pharasma and the priests there cared for her. Over the course of the next year she became very close to the priests there and, at age 18, her divine spellcasting ability manifested. She was then put into rigorous training under a priest named Alastair with whom she became romantically and intimately entwined.


Another two years passed before she was called forth by the head of that temple. He instructed her that she needed to seek the will of the Mother of Souls as her basic training was finished and he very much felt every cleric needed travel experience. So Amaya prayed and fasted. On the third night she received a vision in the form of a dream.


Upon waking and breaking her fast she revealed to Alastair that Pharasma had instructed her to leave the temple and go on a journey. He offered to go with her but when she brought the matter to the head priest he forbade it.


Amaya left alone, setting off on a road that had no definite end.


AC: 13


CMD: 1


Initative: 0


Perception: 3


Religion: Pharasma


Oh god, someone stop that goblin!


Prepared Spells:


0 lvl


Bleed - Pathfinder_OGC


Create Water - Pathfinder_OGC


Guidance - Pathfinder_OGC


1 lvl


Carrion Compass - Pathfinder_OGC


Domain spell: Cause Fear - Pathfinder_OGC

 

[SephirothSage]

Name: Tasatu Mei


Gender: Female


Race: Dhamphir


Age: 25


Height: 5'11


Weight: 157


AC: 19


CMD: 17


Init: +3


Percep: 1


Religion: Shinto/Kami/Ancestor's


History:

Once, there was a maiden…

…who struck an iron wall until it shattered her hand.

She did not stop, though cracks spread through her bones.

She did not stop, though blood sprayed her eyes.

She did not stop until she shattered the wall.

“Survival is fury,” she said.

​

Born in a far off land across the ocean, was a child of nobility and grace. Her mother a priestess to the gods of the lands, to the kami and the elementals. Her mothers husband, a man of great renown in war- a man of battle and conflict, a noble man who served his emperor with dignity. There was but one problem.


Her father was not her mothers husband. Her father was a monster her mothers husband slew in the night- but too late to save his wife from the monsters horrors. Tasatu they named her- 'Murder'- and it was hard to cast aside their hate. Still- it was a decision of the moment, and one that in time they came to put aside. She was a charmingly beautiful babe- and well behaved from a young age- in time they came to pretend the child was theirs.. for a time.


Her mother learned to love her- but her 'father's' approval, she would forever desire- and never attain. She took to the arts of war instead of those of a priestess, to remedy this. She was young when she first took up a Shinai- and only a little older when she first took up a Bokken, and barely twelve when she first took up the Katana.


She smashed her fist into the wall again and again, seeking her 'fathers' love and approval with a hunger that rivaled her true parents hunger for blood- but even as her heart shattered from the trying, she failed again and again- until one day.


She was eighteen- and her fathers clan was to go to war. She begged and pleaded to march besides them- and her 'father' relented. They where to march upon a clan that had begun to dabble in the darker hearts. It was here that the wall would break- and with it her heart.


The armies of her clan waged bloody war for two long years- and she served as a valiant soldier. Her blade cut down a man or two- and she found herself learning the meaning of war and battle on that field- and that she liked it. That unlike the other recruits and ashigaru who felt fear on the field- she felt a hunger for more, always more.


And she found her fathers love on that field of battle- where he saw the daughter he had raised fight for her clan without fear, and smiled.


And in the castle of the enemy, they found the hive of Moroi, and her true father, and her heart shattered. She screamed as the man who raised her died saving her from the monster that sired her's clutches- and lost her courage. She fled- as her mother's magical rage leveled the castle... she fled, as her clans armies fell with nightfall, and her people screamed in the field of the dead and dying.


She fled her home as it burned at the hands of her true ancestors, tears in her eyes.


It's been four years of wandering, of losing herself in drink. Her blade dulls from misuse, her skills wear away into memories... but her fists and heart have begun to heal- though the shame of her surrender never will.


The wall remains broken- but there are more beyond it.


Survival is fury.

​

Spoiler

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[TacoMann]

Card: The Hermit


Gender: ?


AC: 18


CMD: 12


Initiative: +2


Perception: +9


"Silly Goblin. There's nothing to steal!"

Myth-Weavers Online Character Sheets

I am not sure that the best way to make a boy love the English poets might not be to forbid him to read them and then make sure he had plenty of opportunities to disobey you.

— C. S. Lewis, On Stories and Other Essays
​

Fifty seven days of travel. That's how long it had been since they found these gates. An odd human, and some debated that. Despite their youth, and lack of recluse, they only refer to themselves as "The Hermit". Fourteen years ago, a village was burnt down, a child was taken, and raised to be a weapon. Stripped of their identity. Stripped of their joy. Stripped of their name. Taught only the theories of how to crush. To kill. To maim. To slaughter. A year ago, the cult was slaughtered. The child, nowhere to be found, assumed dead. But none of this is important.


What was important was simple:


"The story begins soon..."


The self-proclaimed "Hermit" muttered, marching along the shore until they found a road. They walked. Keeping only some dry rice, and a bowl to mix it in. Refusing all offers from travelers but water to cook the rice. Refusing refuge. Clothing. Jobs. Solicitations.


"Oh no. That's not part of the story, good sir!"





They continued on, rambling to all who would dare give an ear. Bandits would jump the unsuspecting wanderer, only to find themselves baffled into leaving after discovering not only did the person carry nothing of value. They refuse to.


"Silly swords seeking such paltry pentacles..."





Here. Fifty seven days after a bold group of adventurers burnt a corrupt monastery to the ground. Fifty six days after the child had abandoned all but their clothes, their food, and their cards. Fifty Five days since they had given new name to themself: The Hermit.


They could feel it.


As they stepped towards the gates of the city.


The story.


They would find it soon.

 

[SeemosYantra]

Here is my character sheet: Myth-Weavers Online Character Sheets


Backstory:


The story of Ianos begins a bit before he was even born, with the esoteric pursuits of Wardmry, a former slave on Osirion who managed to achieve a measure of freedom by seducing a qadiran merchant into buying her. She never loved the man and would desire nothing but to be free of him, but it was better than the fate that would have awaited her if she didn't made that sacrifice. She had schemes, plans, things to do, and her time was too precious. Her own freedom could wait. Besides, the man was easy to manipulate and not ill favored in looks, so it wasn't that bad at the time.


Nobody knows exactly what was what Wardmry actually wanted to achieve or how she managed to make it but the woman, dimmed barren by every single healer that examined her, conceived a child in most unlikeness to his father. Many were the mages and healers who visited the uncommon child and, time and time again, reassured Masshoor, the merchant, that Ianos, as his mother named him, had, indeed, his blood along the shine of the celestial spheres. Upon learning of the good omen of such birth, Masshoor made the news spread, and his business enjoyed such a boon, and the man filled the child with present and, more than ever, complied to Wardmry's whims and desires, her slave status more and more a mere "formality".


Those were, indeed, the golden years for Ianos. As his father would take long business absenses, Ianos would spend all those years by the side of his mother, and the latter would fill the mind of the child with stories of the empires long lost, of the gods that came and went, of dragons and giants, of heaven and hell, and of all the unseen and occult wonders of Golarion, The Cage. For almost 10 years, Wardmry would dedicate her entire life to carefully watch the painstainkingly slow pace in Ianos growth until, unexpectedly, two other new lives blossomed on her in the comming years. These two weren't bad, but the stark difference in between Ianos and them shone all the brighter, specially as these new children grew at a normal pace, outgrowing their elder brother with the quickness and readyness proper of human kin.


From that point on, Ianos world became blur before his eyes. People changed. People grew. People aged. Things that one day were suddenly dissapeared or ceased to be. The friends of a year ago were now different persons who had nothing to do with him. All the while he remained, in great measure, the same, aging at such an painfully slow pace as to seem time had completely forgotten about him. By the time he looked like an 8 year old child, his "younger" brother was a grown man and his even "younger" sister was living her first years of an adult. With hopes long passed on to this "grown man", Ianos father was already cultivating a heir on his second son. Merely a year before this, Wardmry had passed away; the causes as mysterious as most in her life, for there was still much life to be lived on her when her untimely end came. Many rumored that there were some who had a grudge against the mysterious woman, while others fancied that whichever power she had harnessed to cure her barrenness had claimed its prize. Be one or the other, Ianos knew his mother had something in mind for him but he had been too slow in catching up and, now, he had been left behind, unfinished.


As puberty finally approached him, the following years were difficult and troublesome for Ianos. His father now an old man with whom the kid never truely got along, now diminished due age and the untimely loss of his favored son because of a rampant plague, Ianos was to fend and explore, all on his own, the strife and turmoil of adolescense. Being one of the "youngest" members in the militia training camps, Ianos was eager to see the world and put at test many of the things his mother had taught him but, more and more, found himself puzzled by the nature of the common folk who, so often, failed to address the bigger picture and the long term consequence of its actions. Those were the wild years for Ianos and, thru friendships undone and broken hearts, he learned that the world was not black and white, as his mother had often led him to think, but a grand symphony of grey shades for even the most cherished friend can betray, and even the most beloved lover can backstab. All alone, he had nobody to turn to upon these revelations and was consumed by the grief of such solitude, incurring in acts of folly that would weight heavily on his soul in the years to come out of spite against this world, for his mother had praised it as a jewel, and it had only spitted mud on his face time and again. Or so he felt.


Abandoned by a father that only saw him as a trophy which value dwindled with its long time to "bloom" and its absolute lack of skill for the family business, Ianos found himself without a home which to return some time after gaining a brief job as an assistant on handling caravans, where he learned a lot about mending the wounds of the weary traveler, finding that it was on sincere service to the others that he found a measure of respite from the bleakness that his eyes could see in this world as much as a relief from the guilt of acts he would rather not revisit.


It was on those days, when he found himself lost, forgotten and aimless that, one night, in the darkest hours, he stumbled upon a temple of Sarenrae, The Dawn Flower. He was never a practicioner of faith so he saw no point in entering the temple, and specially this late. He just felt he had his strenghts, both physical and inner, depleted. Starved, thirsty, and tired, he only wanted a place where to rest of everything, so he sat against a pillar and close his eyes, sleep comming easily and heavily on him like very few times in his life.


In his sleep, he dreamt of a place among clouds white, golden, brown and red. Neither sunrise nor sunset, but eternal dawn and twilight, and a singing voice that beckoned him like no other he had ever heard. And there he was before the most majestic presence he had ever beheld in the form of a woman garbed in red and white attires, proper of an empress of an impossibly distant realm, crowned with a cilindrical hat similar to the ones worn by those of sacred station. The tall lady slowly walked toward Ianos, her fair and radiant skin reflecting the light of a distant sun as if it had a light of it's own, and kneeled to embrace the confused youngster who couldn't help but to weep like he hadn't since the passing of his mother, for here was this pure being, a red haired goddess, welcoming him, the most ruined and fouled, as his most beloved one. Ianos had never before imagined that kindness could hurt so terribly, for he felt so undeserving and unworthy before this woman that he thought he would die out of sheer shame on her presence. And yet, with a gaze obscured with tears, he was made to lock his sight on the infinite depth of her blue eyes, oceans of tranquility with no peer. In that tranquility, Ianos saw only one thing engulfing everything: mercy. As the lady released Ianos from her hands and helped him to stand, she said to see in a voice as soft as the most divine carress:


-"Walk beside me. Let's pray for the world."


And so Ianos did, walking behind this lady as the words flowed through him like a gentle river. As he walked, somehow, he could see the world below, amid the clouds and even when he was beyond the ability to singling out faces or even distinguishing people down there, understanding filled him entirely like a lightning of inspiration. All grief, all sorrow, all pain had vanished from his heart, leaving it clean and healed. He didn't knew what this newfound tranquility was, but he understood that this was what the world lacked, what the world needed: mercy, a respite from all it's pain. A breath of fresh air to see the radiant light of hope once more. And so, the words simply blurted out of him, once more:


-"It's about mercy, isn't it? It was about this all this time, right?"


He was about to say something more, but the lady gently placed a finger on his lips and, once again, locked her deep gaze on his eyes, saying:


-"Look at all what had to happen... for you to realize who you are... and what you are meant to be..."


As the light of the sunrise greeted Ianos both in his dream and in real life, the aasimar woke up to a feeling of purpose he had never felt before. He was 60 years old when he had, finally, found the light he needed, and there was much to mend, and much to do, indeed.


-"The world is bleak because the heart of those who live on it are bleak. The world is a valley of tears and pain because the heart of those who live on it are in a valley of tears and their bodies in pain. It's a wound, and any wound can be mended. If even someone as unclean and bleak as me can be offered redemption, a chance to heal, then the entire world can heal. It's time to remind it that it can."


It has been a hard task to mend people since then, and harder to return hope where there was none left, but such matters not: Ianos has found what he was meant to do and be from the beginning. It was a long journeys but, one day, he would face again the lady of mercy and, this time, he wouldn't be ashamed to walk by her side.

 

[vinom]

Squeak squeak squeakly

Health: 14/14

Race: Feral Elf

Age: 90

Class: Barbarian

Alignment: True Neutral

Level 1

EXP: 0/2000?

(crown) Basic Information

AC: 16


Saves: Fort; 6, Ref; 4, Will; 2


Initiative: +10


Base Speed: 50ft


Climb Speed: 20ft


Eye Colour: Forest Green


Skin Tone: Grimy brown


Hair: Black, unkempt mane


Body Type: Humanoid, lean


Height: 5'4" (short)


Weight: 100lbs (all bones and wirey muscle)

(d20) Stats

STR: 14 +2


DEX: 18 +4


CON: 16 +3


INT: 9 -1


WIS: 14 +2


CHA: 12 +1

(shield) Skills

Languages:


» Elven... maybe


+14 - Climb


+6 - Survival


+5 - Handle Animal


+4 - Acrobatics, Disable Device, Escape Artist, Fly, Ride, Sleight of Hand, Stealth


+2 - Heal, Perception, Profession, Sense motive, Swim


+1 - Bluff, Diplomacy, Disguise, Intimidate, Perform, Use magic device


-1 - Appraise, Craft, Knowledge, Linguistics, Spellcraft

(helmet) Armor

» Buck Antlers on her right arm[bone Spiked Heavy Shield]


+2 AC, -2 ACP, Fragile

(sword) Weapons

Terbutje | +3 AB | 1d8+2 | 19-20/x2 | Slashing | Fragile


Punch | +3 AB | 1d3+2 | x2 | Bludgeoning

(chest) Equipment

» Terbutje


» Buck Antler Shield

(bag) Odd's & Ends

» Furs, worn as clothing


» Bowl of Nuts

Squeak squeak squeakly


Wildest Elf you'll ever meet.


Backstory: Soon