Jagael

Mechanics   Ability Point Buy Bonuses Final STR 10 +6 (Wrath) 16 (+3) DEX 17 (13p)   17 (+3) CON 12 (2p) +4 (Wrath) 16 (+3) INT 12 (2p)   12 (+1) WIS 16 (10p) +2 (Race) 18 (+4) CHA 8 (-2p)   8 (-1)  

Wow.  I definitely read BBK's post and then...forgot.  I need more sleep.

GPT-4 tricked someone at TaskRabbit to solve a CAPTCHA for it by pretending to be blind.  The (terrifying) future is now.

Every time A.I. comes up in conversation, I just hear, "I'm sorry Dave, I'm afraid I can't do that."  

Free free.  Elephant in the room turns power attack and deadly aim into regular combat options for all characters with a +1 BAB.

With the Wrathful Template should we assume our characters are angry at all non-Corrupted? The Pure? Is it just a function of Corruption that we are more naturally angered?   Are magical abilities part of the Turning or were they in existence beforehand?  i.e. Is the following referring to magic and supernatural abilities or simply the increased strength of gestalt: "...many developed strange and powerful abilities."

Basics Name: Nick Underwood Age: 23 Gender: Male Class 1: Gunslinger (Bolt Ace) Class 2: Druid (Desert Druid)     Appearance Undersized Arm, Missing Ear, Uncontrollable Twitch Personality Content Background 1.) Who was your character before The Turning?  Grew up in Lordsburg.  Medical Student at WNMU. 2.) What was their experience of the event like?  Ie... What were they doing?  What did they see?  On Summer break.  Community bar-b-que.  Hundred folks dropped dead.  Found all ~3000 people in town dead.  Then the twitching began.  Then the pain in his arm as it contorted and withered.  He didn't realise the ear was gone until he saw himself in a mirror in Tuscon. 3.) What is one experience your character has had in the past two years, since the fall of Civilization?                 A Description of Your Character's Appearance:   A Description of Your Character's Personality and Demeanor:  A Background Summary that Describes the Following:  

Professional Name: The Barracuda Real Name: Robert "Bob" Hooker Occupation: Grifter Appearance: Bob has that most amazing of qualities: to be unremarkable.  At least as far as his face goes.  Most people remember the wheelchair.   Backstory:  In Progress.   Naturally intelligent.  Got bored easily...so got into trouble ALOT.  Realised it was quite easy to get one over on those of lesser intelligence by talking around them and thinking ahead.  Became a full-time grifter, making hundreds of thousands on any given job.  Until he was betrayed by his longtime partner and left for dead.  Recovered, but confined to a wheelchair.  Started pulling lower return jobs to keep a float and started tinkering with an exoskeleton prosthesis.  During an experiment integrating a new power source into the exoskeleton, Bob was electrocuted.  The shock connected pathways in his brain and opened a string of unique capabilities.  Understanding that the suit connected with his brain, Bob has been working on ways to fully merge his consciousness with the machine.   PL/Points/Unused: 10/167/0 Condition: Normal Move: 0-30ft (60ft)Bob's normal mode of movement is via wheelchair, but the exoskeleton's servos move him much faster, Initiative: -5 or 8The suit responds much more quickly Close: +_/DC Grab: +_/DC Ranged: +_/DC Wealth: 0 Complications: Motivations (Greed, Revenge) Responsibility (Client) Reputation (Criminal) Weakness (High-frequency Sound) Enemy (Former Partner) Disability (Spinal Damage)   Abilities (45pp) Fighting -1 Dexterity 4 Agility -5 or 8 Strength 0 Stamina 4 Intellect 13 Awareness 7 Presence 3   Defenses (23pp) Dodge -3 (10) Parry 10 Toughness 4 (9) Fortitude 10 Will 10   Power Descriptor(s): (Powers cost: 71pp) Instant Plan: (Quickness 1 + Innate + Limited (Mental)) 1pp1pp + 1pp Extra - 1pp Flaw Copycat: (Featured: Mimicry) 1pp Signal: (Sense: Radio) 1pp  Lie to Me: (Sense: Vision (Micro Expressions) (Analytical + Acute)) 2pp Perfect Pitch: (Sense: Hearing (Voices) (Analytical + Acute)) 2pp Polyglot: (Comprehension: Language + Reading) 2pp Binary: (Comprehension: Machines) 2pp Handshake: (Communication: Wifi + Rapid) 5pp4pp + 1pp Extra Unlocked Pathways: (Enhanced Intellect 6) 12pp Sonic Shout: (Blast 5) 10pp Exoskeleton (Sum of powers -1pp per 5 pp) 28pp35pp-7pp Leaping 3 (3pp) Enhanced Agility 13 (26pp) Speed 1 (1pp) Protection 5 (5pp)   Skills: (cost: 18pp) Acrobatics +9 Deception +15 Expertise +14 Insight +15 Investigation +14 Perception +15 Persuasion +8 Ranged Combat +7 Stealth +13 Technology +15 Treatment +14 Vehicles +5    Advantages: (cost: 10pp) Benefit (Quick ThinkerKnows the next lie before one is out of his mouth. Thinks steps ahead. Switch Deception from Presence to Intellect. Basing this Benefit off this Developer Blog: https://greenronin.com/blog/2022/05/17/building-better-benefits/) Benefit (One of Those FacesIt's hard to remember what Bob looks like without studying him, he just has one of those faces that looks generic.) Inventor Assessment Equipment 4 Well-informed Fascinate (Deception)   Equipment Comlink Cellphone 2 Blaster Rifle with Laser Sight

Hi there, Jedaii!  I'm working on a Grifter who can talk to computers.  I have Comprehension Machines, but I feel like there needs to be an additional Communication side.  "Radio" doesn't seem like it would make sense here.  Would Communication "Wifi" work?  Or just some kind of computer telepathy?

Basics Name: Aric Cobb Race: Human Class: Snoop (UnRogue) Multiclassing Option: Standard Role: Skill Monkey, Face, Scout       Description Under Construction...Aric tries to hide his youth behind a mess of long black hair.  His beard, once a ragged patchwork, has begun to thicken but the baby face can still be seen beneath.   Personality Under Construction. Personality, Demeanor and Disposition go here.  Stuff about how he acts towards other, what level of broody is he, how angry does he get.   Dream Narrative Under Construction(in which your character recalls an event or some details of their personal history.  The details of the dream should be vague. (as dreams tend to be)  The dream narrative should provide a rudimentary idea about some singular or very few aspects of your character's former life.)       

@iantruesilver Sorry, I have been traveling, and life got a lot more busier on the trip than I thought it would.  I'll be back midweek and finish up the fluff then.

Heh, yeah, still not used to everything Baldr and copied the whole post rather than just the template when I brought it over to edit.    I've seen witches played a couple times, but never had a chance to check out the class myself.  Very debuff oriented class.  Cartomancer doesn't really do too much (though the deadly dealer feat could be a lot of fun), but it thematically ties really well into the Harrower prestige class which brings in some party buff class features.   I will flesh out the character details as I can throughout today/tomorrow. 

     Name: Donovan Brasher aka All-Seeing Almek Class: Witch (Cartomancer) 1 Race: Human Gender: Male Alignment: Chaotic Good Campaign Trait: Friend of the Family   Stats STR: 07 DEX: 16 CON: 10 INT: 18 WIS: 14 CHA: 07 Description Under Construction   Extravagant,  Personality Under Construction   Old, evasive, flighty Backstory Under Construction   Your family has been close friends with the Mvashtis for as long as you’ve been alive. Old Niska Mvashti’s recent death wasn’t all that unexpected— she must have been over a hundred years old, as far as you know—but it was a sobering moment nonetheless. What no one else in your family knows, though, is that in the weeks before her death, Niska must have known that her days were numbered, because she called you to her house one day and made you make a promise: If her daughter Koya ever went on a long trip, you would go with her to ensure her safety. Although the chances of Koya going on a long trip seem remote (she must be at least 60 years old, after all), you’ve made a promise to Niska to accompany her daughter if such an event comes to pass. Ever since you made this promise, you’ve felt a strange sense of destiny looming in your future—you might even think that Niska is now watching over your shoulder, just as she asked you to watch over her daughter. As a result of this eerie sense of being watched over, you’ve been able to react to dangerous situations more quickly than ever. As long as Koya remains alive, you gain a +1 trait bonus on Perception checks, and Perception becomes a class skill for you. In addition, you gain a +1 trait bonus on all attack rolls against foes that threaten Koya. NPC Choices: Koya.    

Updated @Mindcrime

Reserved

Mechanics   Ability Scores Base Racial Level Item Final STR 18       18 (+4) DEX 12       12 (+1) CON 14 +2     16 (+3) INT 12       12 (+1) WIS 16 +2     18 (+4) CHA 08 -2     06 (-2)    

Reserved

Basics  Name:  Aurochs  Race:   Dwarf  Class:   Unchained Monk  Role:    Frontline Fighter, Healer, Secondary Face       Skills Acrobatics +7+10 to move through enemies space Climb +10 Diplomacy +9 Heal +13+15 for poisons Knowledge (History) +6 Knowledge (Religion) +5 Perception +11+13 for Stonecunning Profession (Herbalist) +9 Sense Motive +11 Stealth +5 Statblock Aurochs M  Dwarf Unchained Monk, Level 2 Init 7, HP 23/23, Speed 20, Percep +11, Darkvision AC 16, Touch 16, Flat-footed 14, CMD 22 Fort 610 vs Poison, Spells, and SLAs, Ref 48 vs Poison, Spells, and SLAs, Will 48 vs Poison, Spells, and SLAs, CMB +6+12 to grapple (2BAB+4STR+2IMPGRAP+2DANBONG+1WF(US)+1ITEM), BAB 2, Hero Points 2   Unarmed Strike +7 (1d6+4, x2)   Flurry +7/+7 (1d6+4, x2)   Unarmored (+1 Dex, +4 AC Bonus) Abilities Str 18, Dex 12, Con 16, Int 12, Wis 18, Cha 6       Backstory Aurochs Stoneheart was born in Janderhoff sixty years ago, the only child to aging craftsmen and traders who often took to the dangerous mountain passes to exchange goods with Korvosa and Vigil.  As Aurochs father, Auchtan, approached his two hundredth year, he moved the family to a small way-station of a town on the way to Lastwall.  The Stonehearts often passed through Trunau with their caravans and had become comfortable with the towns merchants and tavern.  In the twilight of their careers Auchtan and his wife, Lena, ran a trading house in Trunau, cutting weeks off the travels of caravans from Janderhoff and Vigil.  It was a quiet retirement, but it did not last for long.   The plague of 4663 AR overcame the hearty but aged dwarfs.  While Lena died of the disease early in its attack on Trunau, Auchtan struggled against it in the rebuilt church outside the city walls.  The fire that consumed the church days later left Aurochs an orphan in a city far from Janderhoff.   Life was difficult after the plague, but the people of Trunau rallied and became stronger by relying on each other.  Aurochs was now a child of the town, and, after a few weeks of bouncing around houses with hard floors for beds, the clerics of Sanctuary offered him a bed and an education.  Life under the clerics meant hours of religious study (mostly about Iomedae) and learning to heal a myriad of illnesses and wounds.     The skills he acquired in Sanctuary aided him well when he came of age.  Wanting to learn more about the lives his parents led in their younger years, Aurochs began to join trading caravans traveling through the Hold of Belkzen.  With orc bandits roaming the land, Aurochs bandaged his fair share of injuries on these excursions.   He loved the traveling life; waking up every day with a new landscape on the horizon was more than he could ask for. But homesickness often gripped him, and on a return trip, he would wind up back in Trunau, sleeping on a comfortable bed in the Ramblehouse and taking a drink at the Killin' Grounds.    

I think there are only 2 monk related feats on the vocational list.  1 is only for Drunken Masters and the other can't be taken until 3rd level.  Could Style feats be vocational?

Origin Breakdown Race:  Humanoid (Human)/Monstrous Humanoid (Minotaur) 9 Potent Talents=3 Potent Talents at Lv1 + 1 Potent Talents every 5 levels + 3 Potent Talents from Feats -Large size (3 Potent Talents) -Spell Hardy (1 Potent Talent) -Quick on the PickupWhen you gain a level in a favored class, you gain both +1 hit point and +1 skill rank instead of choosing either one or the other benefit. You can choose other favored class bonuses in place of either of these bonuses (but not both). Associated Feat: Fast Learner.  -Traded for 2 Aux + 1 Utility (4 Potent Talents)   6 Auxillary Potent Talents -Face Your Fears -Natural Attack (Gore) -First to Battle -Darkvision -Climber -Skill Familiarity (Acrobatics, Stealth) -Fleet Movement -Fleet Movement   3 Utility Potent Talents -Skill Familiarity (Know: Dungeon, Survival) -Quick RestYou only need to sleep 2 hours per day to gain the benefit of 8 hours of sleep. This allows a character that requires rest to regain spell points or prepare spells to do so after only 2 hours, but this does not allow a character to regain spell points or prepare spells more than once per day. -Keen Senses -Dabbling Expertise   3 Phenomenal Potent Talents=1 Phenomenal Talent at Lv1 + 1 Phenomenal Talent every 7 levels -All-Around Vision (1 Phenomenal Potent Talent) -Traded for 2 Aux/Utility Talents (2 Phenomenal Potent Talents) 4 Auxillary Phenomenal Talents -Blindsense -Tremendous Tolerance -In-Depth Familiarity (Acrobatics, Stealth) -Additonal Natural Attack (Hooves)  

Apparently missed that today was the deadline until about noon today.  Had been holding off putting an actual thread up till I was certain I had my ducks in a row, but I think I managed to get my thoughts in order.

   Caedmon Bishop   “The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living”   DRUID (SPIRIT MENDER) FIGHTER (TWO-HANDED SOLDIER)   PRIMARY ROLE FRONT LINE FIGHTER   SECONDARY ROLE HEALER SECONDARY SKILL MONKEY   RACE: Half Minotaur AGE: 26 GENDER: Male   Appearance Seeing him from afar, one might think Caedmon wears an horned helm to battle, but upon meeting him, his melded visage is quite unsettling.  The horns that sprout from his otherwise human head matched with his cloven hooves cause many to assume he is some demon spawn come to claim their children.  He once tried to hide these off-putting elements, but once the spirits joined in their dance around him, it became an exercise in futility.     A few scars line his neck and cheek, the remnants of a burn from his youth.   Spending much of his time traveling in the untamed lands between the cities, Caedmon opts for simple garb.  A pair of woolen pants covers his bovine legs while an old--once loose fitting--leather jerkin strains against his muscular torso.  The humongous axe strapped to his back is the only truly remarkable part of his ensemble, though it is memorable enough that one is not likely to mistake anyone else for Caedmon.   Personality Caedmon is a man of warring sides, the ultimate form of nature versus nurture.  His father's brutality and desire for murder rage within him constantly, but the sacrifice his mother made to bring him into the world and the care of those at the monastery instilled in him a longing for peace and harmony.  Most of the time the nurture wins out.  Caedmon is kind and always ready to lend a helping hand to villages in need or to his allies on the battlefield.    But there are times where his darker side breaks through to the surface.  When the stench of blood is thick, when innocents are threatened or murdered senselessly, when the desire to hurt becomes too much, Caedmon unleashes the bestial nature of his forefathers.   Backstory Drip.  Drip.  Drip.   The woman's tears create channels of clear skin through grime that covers her face.  She can hear them behind her, the beasts that have held her captive for months.  They will catch her.  The knowledge pounds like a battering ram against her brain, but she will not succumb to that reality.  She will not go back to the beasts.  They will not have the child she carries.     Ahead, a caravan.  Soldiers?  No, their clothes are too neat, too ritualistic.  Even if they cannot fight the beats, they can hinder them.  She flees towards the wagons and mules calling out in a hoarse screech for their help.  The men and women respond quickly, forming a line to protect her.  They are not soldiers, but they are warriors.  She does not see what happens, but she falls asleep to the screams, both man and monster.   When she wakes, she is in a wagon, the caravan is moving.  There are stars above her, watching.  She tries to get up, but the pain in her abdomen is excruciating.  There is blood, too much.  A nurse's hand holds a washcloth to her head.  And the woman knows.  "Keep him safe," she whispers.  "Love him."   Drip.  Drip.  Drip.   The rain rolls down Caedmon's window.  Filling his lungs, he releases an exasperated sigh.  "Five days, Papa!  Five days of mud and wet and dark.  When will it stop?"   The old monk chuckles from his rocking chair.  "Caed, I hate to tell you.  If the omens read true we have another week until the downpour clears."   Caedmon clomps away from the window and sits down next to one of his adopted fathers.  "I just want to run in the fields.  I get so antsy cooped up in here; it makes me want to scream and hit the walls and..."   His father leans forward and ruffles the boy's hair, careful to avoid the stubby horns growing out on either side.  "And what, son?" he asks in a measured voice.   "And...and hurt things.  The chickens, the goats...people...you."   The monk sinks back into his chair, not frightened by the admission but resigned to its implications.  "We knew this might happen one day, Caedmon.  You probably don't remember what a terror you were as a toddler.  Headbutting Sister Agnes if she wouldn't let you have seconds.  Stomping on Father Michael's foot--he was limping for a week." He sighs.  "You see, there is a side of you that will always want to do things like that.  It is...who you were born to be."     "But--"   The monk holds up a hand to forestall Caedmon's interjection.  "But," he agrees, "you do not have to be that creature of hate.  We have watched for many years as you have become a better man than any of us hoped.  The miller will remember all the times you pulled his rotary mill when his horse went lame.  Sister Agnes has forgiven your youthful tantrums and welcomes your help in the kitchens.  And I cannot imagine anyone more tender or skilled to work the gardens here.   "You are a good man, Caedmon.  Whenever the anger builds like this, remember that you love those around you, that you are kind, that you can be better than that."  The pair sit in a heavy silence.  "And maybe I can talk to Sir Roderick in town about some...outlets for your anger."   Drip.  Drip.  Drip.   Is that the rain? he thinks as sleep slips away.  No, it doesn't smell like the rain.  It smells like...     Oil drips from a toppled lantern.  That is bad, but for a moment Caedmon cannot remember why.  His head hurts.  His fingers slide back across his head and find the lump just below his right horn.  Did I fall?  No, someone hit me.  He watches the pool of oil slowly spread across the floor as he tries to piece together the fragments in his memory.  Father Jacob was running down the hall screaming 'They're coming!' and then I came outside and...  The oil creeps steadily across the worn stones toward a bright, flickering light just beyond Caedmon's field of vision.   The oil ignites a moment before Caedmon's brain connects the light to a flame.  The fire almost seems to eat the oil as it flashes across the ground.  Caedmon's torso and face scream with pain and he recoils from the heat.  Despite the ache in his head and the sickening disorientation it causes, Caedmon rolls across the ground.  The flames go out quickly, but the damage is done.  Even the slight breeze that flows through the courtyard sets him on the edge of screaming.   At the very least, Caedmon regains his senses and recalls the Minotaur raiders that have been savaging the countryside.  He rushes quickly through the parts of the monastery that are not on fire searching for survivors.  There are bodies in the dining hall, the kitchens, the sanctuary.  He has seen death before, but these are his parents, his aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters, his family.    It has been years since he felt the anger this strongly.  His vision narrows, his body feels hot, and a scream rises unbidden from his chest.   The sound of metal dragging on stone echoes in through the halls behind Caedmon.  He turns to see a massive beast, head and shoulders taller than himself, stomp into view.  The shadows hide most of the monster's features, but Caedmon makes out the horns on the creature's head and marvels at the similarity to his own.  The Minotaur bellows and charges Caedmon with frightening speed dragging a large, bloody axe behind him..  Caed is unaware of his body reacting--bracing, lunging, running.  All he sees are the faces of those he loves.  He lowers his head and feels the impact.  Two lines of agony snake down his back just before his head and neck are jarred with hitting a solid mass that collapses atop him.   Caedmon struggles out from underneath the Minotaur.  His head is covered in blood, and he has to work to extricate his horns from the beast's gut.  The anger is slaked for the moment, but seeing the Minotaur take a shuddering breath rekindles it.  Caedmon kicks with one hoof to turn the Minotaur on its back.  He reaches down and awkwardly wrestles the axe from the beasts hand.  It is much larger than the battleaxes Sir Roderick introduced him to, but Caedmon makes due.  He brings the axe down in a swift chop to end his foe's life.   As the battle haze lifts, Caedmon hears a human scream in the distance.  Someone is still alive.  He hefts the axe onto his shoulder and makes his way into the night unaware of a wisp of light bobbing along behind him.   Drip.  Drip.  Drip.   "The ice is melting."     "Damn.  Why can't anything go our way?  This was supposed to be a cakewalk!"   "This is what, your third assignment, Caed?  I thought you would have figured it out by now; if the Guild gets a contract it's never a cakewalk."   Caedmon paces as well as he can in the fissure he and Clayton are trapped in.  Three steps to forward, awkward turn where Clayton has to duck, three steps back, repeat.  "You think Donovan abandoned us after he made the wall or did the delvers get him?"  Clayton stays silent.   Another hour passes, and the magically formed wall of ice gets thinner and thinner.  Clayton conjures up a little ball of light every now and then, but its feeble illumination is little comfort.  Caedmon fares better with his monstrous eyes, but even he misses the light of the surface.  When the ice shrinks enough that movement is visible on the far side, Caedmon picks up his axe, Heart Bane, and readies for a fight.   Clayton's anachronistic chuckle startles Caedmon.  "You have less than a foot either side to swing that overgrown twig.  You're more likely to gouge your own arm than knock one of these slugs about."  He pops to his feet and unsheathes his rapier.  "You need finesse in a close space like this, not brute--"  Clayton vanishes as the ground drops away beneath his feet.     Caed barely registers the slimy slug that emerges from the hole before he charges forward.  He slams into the slug and feels the creature's acid bite into his skin.  He doggedly pushes forward slamming Heart Bane's shaft into the slug and jabbing forward with his horns.  The brief battle of strength sends the pair toppling down the hole.  The slug hits first, alive, until it splits apart under the force of Caedmon's landing.    Amidst the burning acid, Caedmon spies a body wrapped in robes.  Though the face is gone, he recognizes Donovan, the mage who saved his life.  And there just a few feet away is Clayton.  At first, Caedmon assumes the swordsman has shared the wizard's fate, but a shallow breath gives hope.  Caedmon scrambles over and reaches for the potion he always keeps in a belt pouch.  A shard of glass pricks his hand, the vial shattered in the fall.     Frantic Caedmon searches Clayton and then Donovan's belongings for some potion or poultice he can make use of.  Nothing.     "There must be something.  You can't die, Clay."  But after a few minutes Caedmon collapses beside his friend's dying body.  He takes Clayton's hand in a gentle grip.  "I'll make them pay.  Every slithering, creeping one of them.  I'm sorry."   The grays and whites of Caedmon's vision retreat suddenly.  A dim light brings color back to him.  A glowing ball hovers above Donovan's corpse.  It bounces through the air and runs a circle around Caedmon's head before sliding down his arm.  In a brief flash the ball is gone, and Clayton's wounds close up.  His breathing becomes even.   Caedmon stares in wonder.  "What in the nine hells was that?"   Drip.  Drip.  Drip.   The blood falls from Heart Bane and pools on the ground.  The battle is done.  There are casualties; there are always casualties, but fewer, he thinks, than there used to be.  Caedmon stands next to the surviving hunters and relishes the afterglow of a good fight.   "MmonSTeR!"   Caedmon sighs.  This happens more and more these days.  He steps away from the others with a nod and kneels down beside the mountain troll's corpse.   "I waTCHed yoooou.  MmonSTeR!"   Caedmon pulls a spade from his pack and begins testing the ground.  Trampled, but not thick with clay; it would be fairly easy to dig.   "Yoooou ARE a dEEEEmon.  A KILLER!"   "I am sorry.  You made your choice, my friend.  You could have stepped away, gone off to find a hairy flood troll with all her teeth and settled down."   "You LIKed the BLOOD."   "I'll see you to your final rest.  I hope you find peace there."   Caedmon sets to work digging.  It will be a few hours before he can bury all of the fallen, the sooner he starts, the better.  He hears the jeers and questions of his fellow hunters but simply shrugs off their attentions.  The spirits will be back in a few hours, he wants some peace before then.