Varil

Hello. I'd be interested in playing. I've never done a Society game, though I've played Pathfinder 2e for a decent bit now. I need to read the organized play guide a little more closely to make sure I have it properly in order, but I have made a preliminary character chronicle sheet on Paizo's site, and built a character using Pathbuilder. Do you have a preference on how you want your character sheets presented? I saw two using the MW sheets, and one using Demiplane in the other thread. I don't mind using whatever is most convenient, though most of my character construction is through Pathbuilder.

1. I'm not sure where the extra two skills are coming from? Monks are trained in 4 skills +intMod(zero for Oznar), and I have one skill from my background(Politics Lore). It doesn't appear Human or Half-elf provide any additional skills, and Brevic Outcast is somewhat unusual in that it only provides the one skill that I see. 2. Hmm. I have not uploaded any images to Baldr previously. I'll look into it. I can see the image, but when I click on it I do seem to get some manner of dead link. Whoops. 3. Okay, will do. Thanks for taking a look. Immediate follow-up edit : I think I see what I did. When I was experimenting with adding the image, I left the one in the body but cleared the "uploaded files" version below, which probably broke the image. Anyway, please let me know if the image still isn't working. I also removed the links.

Link to Pathbuilder sheet: Ancestry : Goblin(Charhide) Background : Sponsored by a Stranger Class : Monk (Planned) Archetype : Druid(Flame Order) Alignment : CG Ancestry/Heritage traits : Small, 25' pace, Darkvision, 1/2 level Fire Resistance(min 1), DC 10 checks to remove persistent fire damage. Background traits : Nature, Insect Lore, Dubious Knowledge Class features : Powerful Fist(Unarmed strikes are 1d6 and take no penalty for lethal or nonlethal attacks), Flurry of Blows(Flourish, 1a, attack twice[MAP as normal]) Feats : Burn It!(+1 persistent fire damage dealt), Dubious Knowledge(On failed knowledge checks learn something true and something untrue), Stoked Flame Stance(+5' movement per 4 levels[min +5'], may perform Flashing Spark strikes) Ability Scores : Str 18(+2) Dex 14(+4) Con 12(+1) Int 10(+0) Wis 12(+1) Cha 12(+1) Skills : Acrobatics +5, Athletics +7, Intimidation +4, Lore(Insect) +3, Nature +4, Survival +4 Defenses : 17 HP, 17 AC, Fort +6, Refl +7, Will +6, Per +4, Resist Fire 1 Darkvision, Pace 25'(30' in stance) Strikes : Unarmed Strike +7 1d6+4 bludgeoning[Agile, Finesse, Nonlethal, Unarmed] ; Flashing Spark +7 1d8+4[Forceful, Nonlethal, Sweep, Unarmed] A Meeting With a Stranger "I don't follow." Snaggle frowned in the dream, looking at the vague figure from his memories. The figure spoke, but the words were a haze. Meaning without language. The Charhide wasn't sure why he couldn't remember the figure very well, but despite that the conversation itself was stark in his mind. "Well, fire is pretty! Wait, nobody ever likes that reason. It also keeps me warm, and my home safe. Nobody messes with fire!" dream-memory-Snaggle grinned at that, but he remembered that the figure responded seriously, as if the goblin had spoken profoundly. "Yeah? Of course I like protecting my home. Everyone I like is there." The stranger seemed pleased at this response. "We build our homes out of wood." A probing question. "Ha, would you invade a home that might burn down around you? Of course not!" Another question. "That's why we build them out of wood! Nobody cares about wood." <...> "Sure, stone houses don't really burn down, but then we'd care about them if they do get destroyed." <...> "I guess so. Lots of stuff out there is hard to kill with fire, or is too dumb to care if you use fire to kill it. But we have like...swords and stuff too." <...> "Not me! I punch things!" <...> "What the heck is immune to fire, swords, AND punches?" <...> "Dragons are cheating." <...> "What's an 'elemental'?" The stranger spoke for longer this time, detailing the creature. "That sounds awesome! But alright, a 'fire elemental' would be pretty hard to deal with. But I'm not sure how stone houses would fix this." <...> "You're the one who brought up stone houses!" He remembered being irritated a little, pretty sure the odd person was just messing with him, but the figure continued speaking. "...hmmm. Okay, I see your point. But what else can we even do?" <...> "All I can do is punch fire at stuff, not...any of that other stuff you mentioned." <...> "How did you know about that?! And that only works like...once, then I need a break." <...> "Haha! Nobody is going to teach a Charhide magic! That's crazy. Even I think it's crazy, because I know exactly what sort of mischief I'd get up to." <...> "Where is....Magaambya? Sounds familiar." <...> "Wait, THE magic academy? I'd be lucky if they didn't burn me if I showed up at their gates!" The stranger spoke for longer this time, asking a series of questions that Snaggle remembered shaking and nodding his head at. He didn't remember the details of the questions, but he remembered the part that came after. "You're...right, I guess? I don't want to burn down the whole Mwangi or anything. But that hardly makes me 'in tune with nature' or whatever." <...> "Really? They'd take me?" An affirmation, followed by a long silence. "Okay." Even Snaggle wasn't sure why he'd agreed so quickly. It wasn't really like him to make big decisions to easily. Little decisions are easy, nobody cares about little decisions. But deciding to leave? To go to Nantambu? But he wanted to. Something about the stranger's words had resonated with him. The desire to learn how to better protect his home, the chance to learn things beyond the confines of his village, and... Snaggle woke up, the trailing fragments of his dream scattered. He heard someone traveling down the nearby road, chatting with a companion. He was near the city now, only a few hours out, and had buried himself in a pile of leaves, twigs, and undergrowth to hide while he slept. He sat up, groggy but alert. His nerves were frayed, thoughts of showing up at the academy and being turned away bouncing around his head. Almost every time he closed his eyes, the conversation came back. The clarity never improved, but the last part always stuck with him. Even now it was what drove him to get up, dust off his clothes, and return to the road. He wanted, more than he had ever wanted anything, to learn everything Magaambya had to offer. Fire magic, ice magic, storm magic. Whatever it had to offer. And if that meant learning to be a Druid, of all things...well, he wanted that too.

Ancestry: Human(+2 Str, +2 Dex) || Heritage : Half-Elf Background : Brevic Outcast(+2 Con, +2 Str) || Class : Monk(+2 Dex) Ability Scores : +2 Str, +2 Dex, +2 Con, +2 Wis 16(+3) Strength || 16(+3) Dexterity || 14(+2) Constitution 12(+1) Wisdom || 10(+0) Intelligence || 10(+0) Charisma Class Feats and Features Ancestry Paragon Feat: Natural Ambition(Monastic Weaponry) Ancestry Feat : Nimble Elf Background Feat : Haughty Obstinacy Class Feat : Ki Strike(Spell Type : Divine) Class Features : Flurry of Blows; Powerful Fist Senses and Defenses Senses : Low-light vision; Speed : 30' HP: 20/20 || AC 18 || Perception +4 Fortitude +7 || Reflex +8 || Will +6 Skills and Actions Skills : Acrobatics(T) +6; Athletics(T) + 6; Deception(T) +3; Lore Politics(T) +3; Stealth(T) +6 Actions : Bo Staff +6, 1d8+3(B) [Monk, Parry, Reach, Trip, Uncommon] Shuriken +6, 1d4+3(P) [Agile, Monk, Thrown, Uncommon] Temple Sword +6, 1d8+3(S) [Monk, Trip, Uncommon] Equipment Gear(Bulk 3) : 9g, 10s, 5c Backpack, Bedroll, Flint and Steel, Religious Text(Arazni), Religious Symbol(Wooden, Arazni) Soap, Waterskin(2), Chalk(10), Rations(2 weeks), Rope, Torch(5) Bo Staff Temple Sword Shuriken(10) Backstory Annelle Annelle waited anxiously like the rest of the small crowd. The lord of these lands only visited their town rarely, perhaps twice a year, and they were curious to know if he had any announcements. Well, most of the crowd waited anxiously for that reason. She had her own, more personal reasons. She glanced down at the young boy by her side. Half-elven, like herself. Nobody in town ever commented on her having a half-elven child, despite being a half-elf herself. It's not like it was really a secret. After all, there were only two half-elves in the town. Save for perhaps twice a year, when their lord visited. The lord of the lands finally appeared, stepping out of the front of the townhall, which kept a room specifically for him and his visits. He was half-elven but his physique drew strongly from his elven heritage. Tall, slender, handsome in a unique sort of way. She glanced down at her son again. Oznar was only just barely at the cusp of adolescence but so strongly resembled the lord of their town that it was almost funny. She didn't look to her left, where her husband stood. Her purely human husband. The marriage had been convenient for them both, but while she never felt more than friendly affection for him she knew how he felt about her. The lord was speaking in a strong, loud voice, telling the people what wonderful subjects they were and affably cracking jokes with the mayor. He really was a kind man. She saw his eyes flicker her way, only once. A moment of weakness, maybe? Or regret? They hadn't spoken in a long time now, but sometimes she thought she saw the same affection for her she felt for him. He was married too, and from the moment of his engagement he had broken off all that they'd had. She wondered, sometimes, if she was a bad person for thinking about what it might mean in a few decades that they had both married humans. Oznar Oznar sighed, listening to the new lord preach his bold new strategy for dealing with the famine. As usual, it involved taking from them, and then "distributing" what they took. There wasn't anyone in the town fooled by his words, but there also wasn't anyone in town ready to deal with the group of soldiers the man had brought. Well, not that anyone had anything to give. They weren't throwing around words like "famine" and "starvation" for fun. He turned and left. He saw a few of the soldiers watch him go, but nobody stopped him as he headed south. On his way he passed the old cemetery. Nothing for him there, his mother had asked to be burned and cast into the river. Like everyone in town, he knew why. Their family had never had any such tradition, but the old lord's family had. He could vaguely hear the new "lord" continuing his speech. He remembered the lord from his youth, the way he spoke. None of the new ones had his charisma. Or humanity. He saw his small home and stopped. A moment later he turned and went down a branching path instead, carefully making his way to the river. He didn't want to see his "father" today. The man had always been kind to his sister and brother, but his eyes were only ever angry when they saw Oznar. He knew why. Everyone in town did. He sat down at the shores, looking at the water as it ran, traveling away from this town of the sad and broken. "It's always nice to take a moment and appreciate what the world can offer, isn't it?" Oznar stood and whirled, nearly falling into the river as he did. An older man with a staff was settling down next to where he had just sat. I didn't even hear him walking up. "Who...who are you?" The man had a wooden symbol of some sort hanging from his neck, an image painted on the front. A...flower with a sword through it? Oznar thought it probably wasn't just for decoration, but he didn't recognize the symbol. He man, probably human with some distant orcish ancestry if the eyes are anything to go by, looked up at the young man before answering. "I'm Parkus, a...priest, I suppose." He tapped the symbol. "I was passing through when I saw his lordship doing his own preaching. I thought perhaps this place could use one such as I." Oznar glanced again at the symbol. "A priest? For who? And what are you offering us? Prayer isn't exactly going to fill our bellies." Parkus answered his voice becoming a little bolder with each word, "I am a priest to the downtrodden. The cracked, the damaged, the abused. I am the voice of vengeance for the wronged, the act of defiance before the unjust. And the world is cruel, isn't it? Terrible, to the strong and weak alike. That is why I am here. Not to save you, because once you are hurt you cannot simply become unhurt, but to let you stand again in the face of your enemies and show them that even pain is a source of power." Parkus stood as he spoke, standing straight and tall with his staff planted firmly into the muddy earth. Oznar gaped, unsure if he was more surprised at the sudden speech or at the man's towering height. Definitely some orc blood. He pushed aside the irrelevant thought. "I-I see. Well, that's...great, but I don't see how a bunch of mostly-starved villagers are supposed to stand up to lords and their soldiers." Parkus nodded as if that was the expected response. "Ah. That's fine, an opportunity for a demonstration is coming our way now." Oznar's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion for a moment before he heard the heavy thud of boots coming from back up the path. "Alright, citizen, come along. You heard the lord's plan, everyone contributes. Everyone." The pair of thugs on the hill glared down at Oznar, the sneer in their voice not at all disguised. One flicked his glance at the old man, then back again at Oznar. I guess the crazed old man looks even poorer than me. Impressive, in a way. Then the old man jumped, clearing ten feet of the embankment and cracking his staff into the diaphragm of one of the men, and driving the butt of his staff forward, into the throat of the second. Both collapsed. "Now, see that! Now if one old man with a stick can manage that much, then what do you suppose a strapping lad such as yourself might accomplish?" Oznar wasn't sure if he could handle many more shocks today, and tried to wrestle his face into a less surprised expression. "You...you...did you kill them?!" The old man glanced down. "Ehh...that first one's okay. Just winded!" He laughed, making his way back down the shallow hill towards Oznar. He didn't say anything about the man he hit in the throat. Oznar tried not to think too hard about the man's jovial attitude, as compared to the brutal defeat he dealt out to the thugs. He looked past Parkus, at the 'soldiers'. He felt...not satisfied, exactly. Or happy. But the feeling was a good one. If...if I had the strength to do that myself... When he looked back to Parkus he found the old man's gaze staring back at him, weighing. Understanding. "You see? It's not a bad feeling, justice. But I think you know that it'd be better dealt out by your own hand." Oznar found himself nodding. "What do I need to do?" Parkus Parkus stretched his old muscles while he watched the young half-elf go through the forms. The physical conditioning had to overcome years of starvation, but he had the means to help Oznar do so. He'd suspected, from when he spotted the boy standing in the crowd with the other listless peasants, that Oznar had the right kind of fire. Just, but not too just. Kind, but not too kind. Merciless, but only to the right people. A survivor at heart, but not one that would trample others in his drive to live. The Unyielding will find a good follower in him. Now, how to bring him around to the idea? Parkus was a priest after all, if not a very good one. He had considered just trying to teach the boy a few sparks of divine power instead, but honestly he didn't think the boy had the...knack. He didn't really believe in anything but himself. Well, except maybe Parkus. If he didn't think I have a few screws loose, perhaps. But that's alright. Oznar wouldn't care about the whole thing about making undead, but asking him to follow that tenet would be trivial. Not insulting his goddess, also trivial. Arazni might not have a great reputation, but Parkus believed the boy would be grateful enough to do something so simple. Despising those who hurt him...he'd do that one on his own. Dignity... The boy tripped and tumbled, swearing loudly as his face was covered in mud. ...dignity is a work in progress. But he'll get there. Ironically, the last tenet, the one about surviving at all costs, might be the hardest. All it would take is a single moment of self-sacrifice to break it, and the boy had the empathy for it. The easiest solution is to try and get him strong enough that he can, as Parkus had with his little village, walk into danger and back out unthreatened. The older man sighed, rubbing his face then standing. What will be will be. Maybe the boy will grasp the tenets and follow them, or maybe he'll struggle against the evils of the world and die with dignity. Survival is the most important tenet, but it's also the one you can only break once. "Alright boy, enough playing around in the mud." More cursing as Oznar wiped his face and spit, trying to get mud out of his mouth. "Let me show you how to tumble without looking like it's your first day on your feet." Oznar He flipped another page of the little book. He wasn't really great at reading but he had to admit the practice was helping. It'd help more if the book wasn't agonizing to get through. Maybe that's why one of her domains is pain. He laughed to himself, then considered if that was heresy. He wasn't insulting Arazni, right? She doesn't seem like the sort to have a sense of humor though. He sighed, closing the book. He was supposed to read for another hour or two, but he felt confident that he'd be chewing off his own fingers if he sat here any longer. Where the hell was Parkus? He stepped towards the door of his little room, paused, then collected the little painted wooden disc Parkus had given him. He wasn't sure how much he bought into the whole Arazni worship thing, but Parkus had done too much for him to not at least make a genuine effort. And...most of what she represented made sense to him. The little farm they were staying in had been abandoned for some time, so far as he could tell, and he had to watch his step as he traveled across the broken planks of the narrow hallway and out the front door. An overgrown field, a collapsed barn, and the occasional wooden pole that was once part of a sturdy fence were the main features of the surrounding countryside. A forest grew up in three directions beyond the immediate borders of the field, hiding the view of every direction except the path west. The sun was barely starting to set. And no damn sign of Parkus. The old man had disappeared that morning, saying something about having a task to accomplish. Grumbling, Oznar stepped back inside. Maybe he left some of those dried fruits? I should go foraging tomorrow, if he isn't back. Opting to get some food, he stepping first into his own room to grab a bit of bread and cheese, then into Parkus' room to rummage for a little more variety. To his surprise the old man's room was completely cleared out. "What? When?!" When Parkus had left he only had his belt pouches, with enough food and water for a few hours. Had the sneaky old priest managed to slip back in when Oznar wasn't looking? A single sheet of paper sat on the desk. I swear if that old man slipped away and just left a melodramatic note the first one I'll have vengeance on will be him. He picked up the paper and began to read. "Oznar. I've slipped away and thought it would be appropriate to leave this melodramatic note." Dammit! "I've observe your progress, and at this point any further teaching would be counter-productive. I could make you stronger, more educated, or just less loud-mouthed when you really should simply shut-up. Or maybe teach you how not to be so terrible in a fight. Or how to read like something smarter than an ogre. Or..." Oznar's frown deepened as he continued down the page for several more lines before finding actual relevant content again. "...and I suppose you might even be trainable, eventually, to not burn even the simplest of foods. But I digress. Teaching you any of that would be a waste of time, because at some point in every person's life they must choose their own path, and learn their own recipes. But I really do wish you'd learned at least one of mine properly." It was just that one time! He ducked out on me and somehow he's still giving me grief over a single burned chicken. "I cannot force you to be faithful, nor to be strong. I have taught you both, in the hopes that at least one will take and the genuine wish that both will. Remember, above all Arazni admires those who survive. Keep yourself alive, and with any luck we will meet again. Do try not to drown in any shallow ponds." Oznar read the note again, then folded it, before catching some writing on the back. "P.S. I left a few of the fruits behind, and a few coins. But I did take the loaf of fresh bread out of the oven. I did warn you to keep an eye on it." Oznar felt himself smiling, even as he muttered complaints to himself. The next morning he set out, having scavenged everything of value. The staff, sword, and weird knives his teacher had gifted him. Despite only thinking it, he glanced over his should, expecting a reprimand for misnaming the shurikens. He knew their name, he just liked pissing Parkus off. The surprising amount of coin left for additional supplies. Enough rations for now. Water. I suppose that will do. Despite the view being blocked by trees, he glanced east, towards his old home. He wondered, sometimes, what had happened there after they left. He'd asked Parkus why he didn't help with throwing out the lord, but he'd simply told him that killing very soldier and outsider in the village would just be a reprieve before more would move in. "If you want vengeance, lad, you'll have to claim it yourself. I just mean to teach you how to survive the attempt." He debated heading that way, then changed his mind. First, try surviving without the ridiculously dangerous orc-blooded priest, then try killing all those who have wronged you. He thought of Galles, who everyone had said was his father even though they knew better. No, that doesn't count. I don't like him, and never will, but nothing he did merits any sort of reprisal. He considered if that broke the tenets before deciding they didn't. Forgiveness isn't Arazni's way, but she never actually specifies vengeance as a consequence. That part was all Parkus. Oznar frowned. Was that him trying to sell me on the idea of going with him, or was that more something personal for him? He'd have to drag the answer out of the old man when he found him someday. A week later Oznar found himself meandering into an old tavern. Not poorly maintained, just...old. A few people glanced up, but nobody paid him any extended mind. There are a lot of travelers in this town. I'm probably not anything special these days. After settling in at a table and making an order he leaned back, letting himself rest. He glanced around while he waited, and spotted a few notices pinned up on the nearby wall. He reached over, turning one a little so he could read it. His eyebrow quirked as he read, examining the details. A...land rush? Looking to revitalize the economy, maybe? Or just keep some treasure-seeking ne'er-do-wells out of the civilized lands. Oznar smiled to himself as the food was set down, handing a couple coins to the young girl who'd delivered it. As he ate, he found his mind turning to the starvation in his home town, and the surrounding land. It wasn't Brevoy-wide, but the noble over this area didn't care what happened on the opposite side of the kingdom. He glanced back at the notice. Had the notice said that successful adventurers could keep the land they claimed? He reached for the notice again, yanking it free of the board. It had said that. He chewed, idly pondering the idea slowly forming in his mind. What can you do when you have a problem with an entire kingdom? He can't just walk up to the king and bop him on the head with his staff until an understanding is reached. He can't kill every corrupt lord in the kingdom, much less every corrupt would-be lord. But, if he had land. An army? A kingdom of his very own? He tucked the notice into his pack and dug into his food. There were hours left in the day, and he had a lot of walking to do.