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Born in Issia, Akiros has spent several years in the Brevic military. The life didn't really suit him, however. Recently, with the death of his father, he took his inheritance and left to seek his fortunes elsewhere. The money bought him a suit of armor and a decent blade, and that's good enough for him.

There's a lot more to Akiros than a man with a sword. He's so much more than the sum of his parts. Life in Brevoy was never easy. Akiros learned early on that three concepts will always hold steady: Money, Force, and Death. Still, something about this never sat well with Akiros. He's seen the temples of other gods, but the real religions of Brevoy are Abadar's wealth, Gorum's steel, and Pharasma's graves.

His father had come from the River Kingdoms, and Akiros suspects that he always wanted to return. He envies his father's simple belief structure, that everything can be summed up by the Six River Freedoms. To Akiros, it seems like an endless game of Rock, Paper, Scissors, with one always trumping another. Trials, if you can call them that, must have been nothing more than two people shouting the Freedoms at one another until one hesitated just a second too long. Nah. While it would be nice if things could be as simple as his father believed them, Akiros knows better. Thing aren't that simple.

Or are they? The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that it's all too easy to find a simple solution. What money can' solve, violence will and vice-versa. Still, that doesn't make it right. Just easy. No, there has to be a better way.

Despite being a cleric of Gorum, Akiros isn't really interested in spreading the faith. Still, the gods choose their favorites for a variety of reasons, and no one can deny that Akiros finds his sword stained with blood far more often than he'd like to. That's a part of why Akiros has decided to leave Brevoy. The land is too harsh, too unforgiving of weakness for his taste. He's out to find a better world, or to make one for himself if he can't find one.

Akiros doesn't want to fight. He wants to live free. His father certainly had that much right. So do the swordlords, for that matter. But Akiros isn't interested in living in a kingdom of bandits or studying at some school. That's what freedom's all about right? Being able to turn your back on what you have and hope for something greater? It is to Akiros.

His search for answers has brought him to the Pathfinders. Their goals intersect with his own, and he thinks they'll both be able to benefit from his being a member, at least for the time.

We were heading west, towards Numeria. I had joined a caravan that was going to cut around the Stolen Lands towards Numeria before moving south to the River Kingdoms. I figured that I might as well start my search in my father's homeland. If the place meant so much to him, it must be something, right? Well, ahead of us, we saw a few merchants that were desperately trying to defend themselves from three bandits. I drew my sword. One of the other caravan guards (I had volunteered to work as a guard to gain free passage) motioned for me to be still. "That's not our fight." he said to me. Well, that didn't sit right with me. Doubt it ever will. I watched for a moment longer, until one of the merchants was stabbed straight in the gut.

Hell with these guys I thought as I ran towards the merchants. The rest of the caravan continued walking. Let them. In less than a minute, all three bandits were dead at my feet, and I was covered in blood. I couldn't tell if it were mine or theirs. It didn't matter. The two merchants still alive looked at me, probably trying to figure out if I was a friend or an enemy. Finally, one of them spoke up. "Thank you, Warrior. But your caravan is leaving you." Then that I said something that I think will stick with me for the rest of my life. Not because it was particularly profound or deep. Not because it summarized everything I believe. I'm not convinced I do believe it. But I believed it then more than anything else. That's when I realized that maybe that holy symbol I have around my neck isn't just for show. That maybe I do belong in that priesthood. I said "Let them. I'll protect those who will fight."

Most people don't realize it, but Gorum cares more about the concept of battle than its actual practice. He favors skill and bloodshed, but the biggest thing about the god is that people are willing to fight. The first question a priest will ever ask anyone is "Will you fight?" It's not "Can you fight?" It's "Will you fight?" When all the chips are down and your back is against the wall, will you go down swinging? Or will you just cower until you get cut down by someone who will?

Like I said, I realized something about myself that day. I realized that when someone, a complete stranger even, is willing to fight to defend themselves and what's theirs, I will do whatever it takes to make sure that they don't have to. Someone who isn't willing to fight? Well, let them end up like that caravan. Lost, and without a guard. I'm sure they never made it to the River Kingdoms. The Numerians can smell that kind of cowardice from miles away, and they will fight. They probably slaughtered them all. All the better.

A long time ago, I read a Dream Park novel by Jerry Niven and Larry Pournelle, which said that one tenet of Inuit cosmology was that distance travelled = accumulated power. (I don't actually know if this is true or not.)

Taking that as a base concept, any of the following variants (whichever suits you best) could be the underlying motivation for Fallim to join the Pathfinders and see the world.

1) Wherever Fallim travels by land, he traces a leyline behind him. Other Pathfinders just entering the association have also been given the capacity to do so as well. They have been told that their combined efforts will create a secret ward stretching around the planet, which can be activated in the event of another global catastrophe, like Earthfall or Aroden's supposed death.

2) As Fallim travels, he generates potential energy which is stored, somewhere, in some arcane super-battery. Other Pathfinders just entering the association have also been given the capacity to do so as well. They have been told that their combined efforts will create a well of power in some secret place, which can be used to fend off another global catastrophe, like Earthfall or Aroden's supposed death.

3) As Fallim travels, he stores away incredibly detailed information about every locale through which he passes. This exceeds even the normal divination-augmented chronicles the Pathfinders accumulate-- it is more akin to particle-level scans. Other Pathfinders just entering the association have also been given the capacity to do so as well. They have been told that the information they are gathering will help to stabilize the world, or in a worst-case scenario, to recreate it, in the event of another global catastrophe, like Earthfall, or Aroden's supposed death.

In all three cases, the effect may be achieved through

a) a specially-empowered object, some node of a greater miracle or scheme-- a tiny balsa box, or toy pavilion, barely the size of a thumb, say, with a hinged lid, or a camera pinhole-- nothing so visually impressive or memorable as to provoke robbery while on the road, and ideally nothing that Fallim's handlers could not replace in a relatively short time at some waystation, if he were to be separated from it-- or something glorious but cloaked.

b) special tattoos, painstakingly applied (perhaps in close-to-flesh-tone inks for decreased visibility) to the soles of the feet, or below the eyes and ears and nose, on forehead and fingertips. Advantage: no plot complications because Fallim has been separated from object. Disadvantage: DM is forced to flay or disenchant Fallim permanently to enable temporary blocks in his work.

c) some minor ritual, different only in subtle ways from the multitude of devotions offered throughout the day to Golarion's plethora of deities; Fallim, in the guise of a faithful pilgrim, enacts this ritual whenever his journey permits him to pause long enough, perhaps bookending it with other more well-known ritual elements and prayers. Disadvantage: effect is not continuous in its coverage of globe, then-- more like connect-the-dots. Perhaps Fallim is spurred to move from one waystation to another, preferring navigational goals which enable him to upload regularly.

In all three cases, the actual longterm effect of Fallim's efforts could be benign or malignant (or both, depending on who benefits and who doesn't.) What he believes about it need not be what he was told initially, and what he was told about it initially need not be true. In the case of 3) above, Fallim may have been told that the journey process is part of a plan by Abadar, who (according to the Pathfinder Wiki) is said to have created and to be maintaining The First Vault, "a repository [...] containing perfect versions of everything ever created or seen by civilized peoples." Abadar is also a god interested in the promotion of civilized societies, and one who has acted to protection creation from chaos in the past. (In actuality, the plan may have originated as a desperate attempt by Aroden's broken clergy to restore their deity, or by Sarenrae or Asmodeus, or Nethys; or by some powerful mage(s) advocating the Laws of Man, or his/her/their own goals.)

Born to a woman who serves as a guard at the Korvosan city prison. Father tended bar nearby; was killed in a brawl. First job was helping distribute meals to the inmates, from whom he learned some not terribly nice things, about predators and prey, about fighting dirty, about looking out for yourself, and when that becomes an excuse. Grew up with the sense that, facing the prejudice of locals toward his race, his mother was somehow just as imprisoned as the criminals she guarded-- that he himself had somehow been born caged, and that he would never escape the grim windowless walls of the place allotted to himself and his mother in the world. When the chance to join the Pathfinders came along, he seized it with both hands and his teeth, so tightly that, even if an alternative came along, he might not know how to let go.

low-key and minimalist, in any situation where he is uncertain; shy, but eager and interested when he feels secure. Kind where he believes kindness will not endanger his position excessively, or prove a waste of effort. Ready to be amazed by the richness and variety of the wide world, and hopes that it holds wonders undreamt of, but has been disappointed before, and knows that things which seem too good to be true usually are. Doesn't know yet whether the discoveries awaiting him will be worth the discomfort of reaching them.