Okay, what are you looking for, exactly? What? Oh… I’m afraid I never heard anything about it… But hey! I know who you should ask for this: Ballimar Wylkes, he is some kind of scholar. What? Where you could find him? Oh yeah, sorry, you could find him in the docks, on the Sea Dryad. Yeah, I know, not really typical for a scholar. But hey! He’s a gnome, after all! I mean, those dudes are not at their first eccentricity, no?
Name: Baeshraterunt, alias Ballimar Wylkes (Gnome form) Gender: Male Race: Young Bronze Dragon Alignment: LG Challenge Rating: 7 Size and Subtype: Small Dragon (Water) Hit Dice and Hit Points: 12d12 +24 (102 hp) Initiative: +4 Speed: 20’ Armor Class: 16 (+1 size, +5 Bracers of Armor), touch 11, flat-footed 16 Base Attack/Grapple: +12/+7 Attack: +12 melee (1d6, +1 Heavy Mace) or +13 range (1d6+1, Light crossbow +1) Full Attack: +12/+7/+2 melee (1d6, +1 Heavy Mace) or +13/+8/+3 range (1d6+1, Light Crossbow +1) Space/Reach: 5’/5’ Special Attacks: Spells, Spell-like ability Special Qualities: Resistance to Fire 20, Immunities (electricity, paralysis, sleep, Darkvision 120’, Keen senses, blindsense 60’, Alternate Form, water breathing. Saves: Fort: +9, Ref +8, Will +11 Abilities: Str 8, Dex 10, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 17, Cha 16 Skills (ranks in brackets): Concentration: +8 [7], Diplomacy: +18 [13], Disguise: +11[8] (+21 when using Alternate Form), Listen: +18 [15], Knowledge: Arcana: +10 [7], Knowledge: History: +11 [8], Knowledge: Nature : +12 [7], Sense Motive: +11 [8], Search: +10 [7], Spellcraft +8 [1, cross-class], +10 to decipher scripts on scrolls, Spot: +14 [11], Survival: +18 [15], +20 when above ground or to find and follow tracks, +21 when both applies), Swim: +7 [8], Use Magic Device: +20 [15]. Feats: Magical Aptitude, Track, [Multiattack], Improved Initiative, Leadership. Languages: Draconic, Gnome[1], Common[1].
Baeshraterunt, Dragon form: Male Young Bronze Dragon; CR 7; Medium Dragon (Water); HD 12d12+24; hp 102; spd 40’, swim 60’; AC 26 (+11 natural, +5 Bracers of Armor), touch 10, flat-footed 26; Base Atk +12; Grp +15; Atk +15 melee (1d8+3, bite); Full Atk +15 melee (1d8+3, bite) and +13 melee (1d6+1, 2 claws); Space/Reach 5’/5’; SA breath weapon (60’ line of lightning), spell-like abilities, spells; SQ resistance to fire 20, alternate form, blindsight 60’, darkvision 120’ immunities (electricity, paralysis, sleep), keen senses, water breathing; AL LG; SV Fort +10, Ref +8, Will +11; Str 17, Dex 10, Con 15, Int 16, Wis 17, Cha 16.
Skills and Feats (ranks in brakets): Concentration: +9 [7], Diplomacy: +18 [13], Disguise: +11[8] (+21 when using Alternate Form), Listen: +18 [15], Knowledge: Arcana: +10 [7], Knowledge: History: +11 [8], Knowledge: Nature : +12 [7], Sense Motive: +11 [8], Search: +10 [7], Spellcraft +8 [1, cross-class], +10 to decipher scripts on scrolls, Spot: +14 [11], Survival: +18 [15], +20 when above ground or to find and follow tracks, +21 when both applies), Swim: +11 [8], Use Magic Device: +20 [15]; Magical Aptitude, [Multiattack], Improved Initiative, Track, Leadership. Languages: Draconic, Gnome[1], Common[1].
Breath Weapon (Su): Once every 1d4 rounds and only in dragon form, Baeshraterunt can breathe a 120-foot line of lightning. Each creature in the path of the lightning takes 6d6 points of electricity damage (Reflex DC 18 half).
Spell-like abilities: At will: Speak with animals
Alternate Form (Su): Baeshraterunt can assume any animal or humanoid form of Medium size or smaller as a standard action three times per day. This ability functions as a polymorph spell cast on itself at its caster level, except that the dragon does not regain hit points for changing form and can only assume the form of an animal or humanoid. Baeshraterunt can remain in its animal or humanoid form until it chooses to assume a new one or return to its natural form.
Blindsense (Ex): Baeshraterunt can pinpoint creatures within a distance of 60 feet. Opponents he can't actually see still have total concealment against him.
Keen Senses (Ex): Baeshraterunt sees four times as well as a human in shadowy illumination and twice as well in normal light.
Water Breathing (Ex): Baeshraterunt can breathe underwater indefinitely and can freely use its breath weapon, spells, and other abilities while submerged.
Spells: Baeshraterunt cast spells as a first level sorcerer.
Sorcerer spells known (5/4; save DC 13 + spell level): 0 -- Resistance, Detect Magic, Read Magic, Touch of Fatigue 1st – Comprehend Language, Detect Word*.
*New Spell: Detect Word Divination, Language-Dependant Level: Bard 1, Sor/Wiz 1 Components: V, S Casting Time: 1 round Range: 60’ Target or Area: One object touched or 60-ft.-radius emanation centered on you Duration: Concentration, up to 1 hour/level (D) Saving Throw: None Spell Resistance: No
This spell is extremely useful when you are searching some specific information in a huge library or in a bulky book. While casting this spell, you must concentrate on a specific word. As long as you concentrate, any object (usually books, but it can be anything) containing this written word begin to shine with a blue light. If you cast this spell while holding a book or any other object with a long text (maximum 10 000 words/level), a faint blue light appears each time the specific word is encountered in the text. The light is strong enough to emanate when there is another object put on the word, or when the book is closed.
This spell is language-dependant, it will only find the word in the specific language you are asking it; if the area contains books in more than one language, the spell must be cast for each language. For example, in a library containing books in both English and French, you might cast this spell to search the English word Fighter, and then you would have to cast the spell a second time for the French word Combattant. However, as long as you are under a Tongues spell, the Detect Word spell will search the asked word in any existing language.
Possessions:+1 Light Crossbow, 20 crossbow bolts, +1 Heavy Mace, Bracers of armor +5, Major Ring of Fire Resistance, 3 Scrolls of Detect Thoughts, Wands of Magic Missile (5th level, 30 charges left), Web (46 charges left), Lightning Bolt (6th level, 39 charges left), the Sea Dryad (around 10 000 gp), a library worth 10 000 gp (each book is 1d100 gp), a Bag of Holding type IV hidden in the captains’ room (Search DC 25 to find) and containing 9300 gp, 475 pp, 9700 sp, 650 cp, 2 fire opals, 4 aquamarines, 1 black pearl and a tiny bronze statue of an adult bronze dragon, worth 550 gp.
Leadership score (cohort): 15 (12 HD + 3 CHA) = 10th level cohort Leadership score (followers): 14 (12 HD +3 CHA –1 (move around a lot) = 15 1st level and 1 2nd level NPC.
Cohort Name: Dorial “Thunderstone” Belven Gender: Male Race: Rock Gnome Class: Sorcerer 2/Paladin 3/Dragon Disciple 5 Alignment: LG Challenge Rating: 10 Size and subtype: small humanoid (gnome) Hit Dice and Hit Points: 2d4 + 3d10 + 5d12 + 30; 79 HP Initiative: -1 Speed: 15’ in Full Plate, base 20’ Armor Class: 24 (-1 dex, +1 size, +9 full-plate +1, +3 heavy shield +1, +2 natural), touch 10, flat-footed 25 Base Attack/Grapple: +7/+6 Attack: +11 melee (1d6+4, +1 Longsword) or +10 melee (1d4+3, bite) Full Attack: +11/+6 melee (1d6+4, +1 Longsword) and +5 melee (1d4+1, bite) or +10 melee (1d4+3, bite) and +5 melee (1d3+1, claw) Space/reach: 5’/5’ Special Attacks: Spells, Spell-like abilities, Smite Evil 1/day, Breath Weapon. Special Qualities: Resistance to Critical Hits & Sneak Attacks 25%, Blindsense 30’, Aura of Good, Detect Evil, Divine Grace, Lay on Hands, Aura of Courage, Divine Health, Low-Light vision, Gnome Traits Saves: Fort: +14, Ref +5, Will +12 Abilities: Str 16, Dex 8, Con 16, Int 12, Wis 10, Cha 18. Skills (ranks and classes in brackets, sorcerer is 1st and 5th class): Concentration: +7 [4, sor], Craft: Alchemy: +10 [7, sor + pal], Hide: +3 [0], Knowledge: Arcana: +9 [8, sor + pal], Listen: +7 [5, DD], Profession: Sailor: +5 [5, DD], Sense Motive: +4 [4, pal], Spot: +5 [5, DD] Feats: Blind-Fight, Power Attack, Cleave. Languagues: Common, Gnome, Draconic.
Spell-like abilities: 1/day, Caster level 1st, save DC 14: Speak with animals, dancing lights, ghost sound, prestidigitation.
Breath Weapon: 1/day, 60’ line of lightning, 2d8 damage, reflex save DC 18 for half damage.
Possessions: Full plate +1 of light fortification, Heavy Steel Shield +1, Longsword +1, 10 thunderstones, alchemist lab, Cloak of Charisma +2, Bat of Tricks (rust), 268 gp.
1st Level Followers: Male and Female Gnome Expert 1; CR ½; Small humanoids (gnome); HD 1d6+2; hp 5; Init +2; Spd 20’; AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 11; Base Atk +0; Grapple –3; Atk and Full Atk +1 melee (1d3+1, dagger) or +2 range (1d6, light crossbow); SA Spell-like abilities; SQ: Gnome traits, Low-Light vision; AL LG; SV Fort +2, Ref +2, Will +3; Str 12, Dex 15, Con 15, Int 8, Wis 12, Cha 10.
Spell-like abilities: 1/day, Caster level 1st, save DC 10: Speak with animals, dancing lights, ghost sound, prestidigitation.
2nd Level Followers: Same thing as the 1st level followers, simply add an expert level.
Physical Description:
In his dragon form, Baeshraterunt appears as a dragon the size of a wolf or a big dog with greenish scales. He doesn’t have wings, the left one was completely burnt while the right one was cruelly torn out. His body display a large amount of scars and burns. Baeshraterunt usually uses his Alternate Form ability to appear as a thin gnome of 4’ tall, with light skin and blond hair and moustache. He usually wears loose and colourful clothes, and a yellow headscarf covers his hair. Despite the summer heat, he never take off his shirt, because in all his humanoid or animal forms, a large scar and a equally large burn appear on his back, sign of his destroyed wings. He speaks slowly and quietly, and appears to be searching the exact word to explain his thought.
He travels on the Sea Dryad, a frigate of good size. The figurehead looks like a female elf with a canopy of leaves as hair. The ship value is around 10 000gp, but the figurehead alone is worth 1200 gp. The crew consist of 15 gnomes; most are men, but there is 4 brave women amongst them. Baeshraterunt’s second is Dorial “Thunderstone” Belven, a tall gnome displaying some draconic features. He used to wear a brown beard, but with his skin becoming more scaly, the beard is less and less apparent. Dorial takes off his full plate armor only in the most stifling heat, and always carry his shield and longsword. He speaks loudly and wishes to be heard by all.
History
There once was a beautiful manor by the seashore, a few miles from a small city. A large and luxuriant garden circled the manor. For most of the neighbours, the manor residents were Sir Vincent Ormond, his wife Mary and their 4 children. In truth, Vincent and Mary were Rasvim’oth and Aesthyrtuor, two Old Bronze Dragon protecting the harbours where the city was built from menacing sea monsters. Their 4 children were their last brood; they never got out during the day because they were too young to adopt a secure humanoid or animal form.
One day, a human with fire-red hairs appeared in the city and the countryside, asking questions about Sir Ormond and his family. Some witnesses remember a soldier with brutal ways, other ones would talk about a noble man using words as musical instrument. Nevertheless, the stranger made his way to the Ormond Mannor. Once inside the walls, he revealed his true nature: it was a Red Wyrm! A single cone of fire killed two young dragon, a tail sweep finished a third one. Before dealing with the two parents, he grabbed the last young dragon in his mouth, squeezed him, unleashed his nasty cone of fire, and finally threw the poor Baeshraterunt, counting him as dead.
When Baeshraterunt awoke, he was suffering from his whole body. One of his wings was completely burnt, the other one was completely torn out. The whole manor was a fuming ruin. His two parents, in dragon form, were lying lifeless amongst the debris; their corpse displayed a large amount of burns. He found his siblings in what remained of the dining hall; two were dead, but his sister was still breathing. In her last breath, she asked him to avenge his family; Baeshraterunt swore he would.
The first thing he did was to run to the cliff and dive in the sea, hoping to appease his burns. The sensation was great, but when he was ready to return to the land, he remembered his broken wings. He used to fly to the manor, now how would he return? The cliff was too harsh for him to climb it. Perhaps if he could become a bird? Baeshraterunt never used his alternate form ability yet, he was too young. It seemed to him the seagulls were laughing at him. “Why do you laugh at me like this?” he asked. “We laugh because we can fly and not you!” was their answer. “I will show them I can!” He used all his strengths to imagine himself becoming an eagle.
The next thing he knew, he was a white eagle, trying to catch the insolent seagulls. He spent an hour playing with them until he saw the ruined manor. “I have better things to do!” he thought. He searched the ruins and found a few human cloths. Now that he was able to change his shape, he adopted the shape of a human, a human who would looks like what could be the son of Vincent and Mary Ormond. He travelled to the next city, asking here and there information about the red-haired man. He realised how imprudent he was when he felt face to face with this red-haired man in a tavern! “I think we have some business to finish together!” the red-haired man said. Baeshraterunt fled at the highest speed he could, the red-haired man behind him. The crowd was too stupefied to help or hinder one or the other. They ran until the young bronze dragon saw a black cat crossing his way; he concentrated himself, and became a similar cat who climbed in a tree and jumped into an open window.
Baeshraterunt spent the next week in cat form, wondering what he should do. He knew he should flee, but where? Then he remembered the stories his mother told him about her own father, Ghorosaujir, who spent 300 years living with gnomes from the Qualt Island. Still in cat form, he stayed in the docks ward, looking for a ship for the Qualt Island. And he finally found one, the Sea Dryad.
Once on the island, he adopted the form of a gnome and the name of Ballimar Wylkes. He met many friendly gnomes, but remained cautious. But when he saw the marshal Dorial “Thunderstone” Belven, he knew he could tell him his story. The leader of a small community, Dorial had some draconic blood, and he was working on unleashing it through the Dragon Disciple way. He got his nickname for his habit to use thunderstones in battles. Baeshraterunt convinced him to talk to him in private, and adopted his natural form for the first time since months. Dorial was delighted! Every gnome on the island remembered with nostalgia the time when Ghorosaujir was living with them, and Dorial was himself his descendant from the 4th generation. They both discussed all the night.
Dorial was very saddened to learn that a red wyrm was hunting metallic dragons on the guise of a human, and didn’t know what to do. Baeshraterunt suggested to return to the manor and look for evidences, as well as treasures the red wyrm would have forgotten. Dorial said he was himself a sailor and knew a few other ones, but they didn’t have a ship. The dragon returned at the ship that brought him in the island and asked the captain to lead him and his friends to the ruined Osmond Manor.
Once there, the dragon and gnomes searched the ruins. All the gold Aesthyrtuor & Rasvim’oth were hiding was missing, taken by the red wyrm, but many magical and mundane items were still there. They even found a large chest with twelve emeralds and five diamonds, that the red wyrm neglected to bring with him. They offered it to the captain and his crew in exchange to his ship. Completely amazed, the sailors accepted.
While the gnomes were transferring all that was still usable into the ship, Baeshraterunt began to explore the library, almost intact. Many books were talking about famous and unfamous chromatic dragons and their habitudes. Baeshraterunt always loved books; now he knew those books would be his best weapon…
Personality:
Baeshraterunt once was a mischievous wyrmling who loved stories. But now, he feels overwhelmed by the oath he took to avenge his family, killed by a red wyrm. He is often absent-minded, thinking of a way he could track down his enemy and slay him. He always has a book in one hand, searching untold evidences of his enemy’s presence in the history. Fortunately for him, his gnome friends are always able to make him smile and even laugh when he is too down.
He also clearly remembers the time when he felt face to face with his nemesis, and barely escaped him. He knows that this dragon often use the polymorph spell, and could look like anything. When Baeshraterunt first meet a stranger, he is very cautious and mistrustful. He usually has Dorial uses his Detect Evil ability and speak a long time to his visitor to be sure of their intentions. If he still doubt, he will use a scroll of Detect Thoughts to make sure he can trust them. But when someone proved him he could be a true friend, Baeshraterunt tells the story of the red wyrm who slew a bronze dragon family, and ask his friend to help him locating the fiend. It will take long for him to reveal his true identity; meanwhile, he prefers to appears as Dorial’s great great nephew, letting the gnomes expand on their family trees.
Adaptability:
The Sea Dryad could be adapted in many ways: Steam Punk: The gnomes are known for their inventions. You can transform the Sea Dryad into an airship, and have this crew travel throughout your campaign world. High Magical Setting: In a high magical setting, the whole ship could be the subject of a permanent Flight spell, allowing it to fly magically. I don’t know what can be the price of such a magical item, I know there are some flying ships in Halruaa, see the Shining South supplement. Fey-touched: The Sea Dryad could have been built from a dryad’s tree, and this connection with the fey world could be enough to grant it many magical abilities.
Baeshraterunt could be used in many ways in your campaign: - If the PCs are making some researches on an obscure subject, they could visit him to consult his large library; since this library is on a boat, it could become a recurrent NPC met in any coastal city, or in any city if the Sea Dryad becomes a flying ship. - If the PCs wants to cross the sea to reach an island or another continent, they might become passengers of the Sea Dryad; in this case, it wouldn’t be surprising if the gnomes had modified the boat to have only rooms of 5’ high… - Should the PCs become friends to Baeshraterunt, he could hire them to find a way to restore his wings. - The PCs could want to help the young bronze dragon to find and slay his nemesis, becoming a red wyrm hunt in cityscape.
Earlan the Storyteller (AKA the Mute Prophet) NG Human Male Expert 2/Cleric 10/Loremaster 1 HD: 2d6+10d8+1d4+13 (67hp) Init: -1 Speed: 30 ft. Armor Class: 15, touch 9, flat-footed 15 BAB: +8/+3 Attack: +8 staff (1d6) or +7 sling (1d4) Full Attack: +8/+3 staff (1d6) or +7/+2 sling (1d4) Special Attacks: Turn undead (10th level cleric). Special Qualities: Gift of prophecy (see below), mute, secrets of inner strength. Saves: Fort +8, Ref +2, Will +18 Attributes: Str 10, Dex 9, Con 12, Int 14, Wis 18, Cha 15(18 w/ Circlet of Persuasion) Skills: Appraise +4, Bluff +7(+9), Concentration +4, Diplomacy +5(+7), Heal +8, Knowledge (Arcana) +8, Knowledge (Geography) +16, Knowledge (History) +14, Knowledge (Local) +11, Knowledge (Religion) +11, Perform (Acting) +7(+9), Perform (Stringed Instruments) +9(+11), Profession (Fisherman) +7, Profession (Storyteller) +9, Sense Motive +10, Speak (Common, Dwarven, Mudras of Myone, three others by campaign world), Spellcraft +5, Survival +7, Swimming +4 Feats: Craft Wondrous Item, Faithful Guardian (see below), Gift of Prophecy (see below), Silent Spell, Skill Focus (Knowledge: Geography), Widen Spell
Description: Earlan is in his forties and wears the attire of an old storyteller. Earlan only speaks when telling stories, and it is said his voice changes with every story or song he performs. When not performing he refuses to speak except through his translator, but is often seen listening to others, playing his harp, or frantically writing something down on a scrap of paper. There is an intensity, which some call madness, about him, as he is incredibly expressive with his body language and his hands are always in motion.
Spells: Earlan is mute so all of his spells must have either no vocal component or be affected by the silent spell feat for him to be able to cast them. Cleric Spells Prepared: (6/7/6/6/5/3/3; save DC 15 + spell level): To reflect his abilities as a prophet, I would select his spells as he casts them due to his insight into the future. He always has at least one Song of the Fabled Minstrel (new spell) memorized. Domains: Knowledge, Travel
Equipment: Entertainer’s outfit, quarterstaff, sling, backpack, travel rations, (2) wineskin, masterwork harp (art object, worth 1000gp), mule, paper and ink in abundance, Mithral Shirt +4, (2) Potions of Invisibility,Circlet of Persuasion, Ring of Mind Shielding, a collection of recent prophecies, and usually 1d4x100gp worth of coinage, though Timaeus usually carries any coinage the pair has.
History: Earlan was born in the fishing village of Kadir to a devout family of fisherman who worked hard and prayed harder. Earlan had a pleasant childhood exploring the coast, wandering the nearby hills, and learning his family’s craft. He was a bright and curious child with a good sense of the sea, and would have become a good fisherman if not for one fateful night when he was fourteen. He awoke with a start that evening and knew that the sea devils, or sahuaghin, were coming to the village. He cried out to his parents, but found his voice gone. In his terror he awoke his parents and siblings, but they could make little sense of his gestures and feared him bewitched. He ran to the warning bell in the center of town and rang it loudly. Soon he was surrounded by his family, friends, and neighbors and tried to communicate the danger, some divined that a danger was coming from the sea. Most of the villagers fled to the hills, though some refused to leave merely because a mad boy claimed to see danger. The next morning the villagers that fled and Earlan returned, and found their village in ruins and those who had remained missing. Earlan had lost his voice and no healing art could be found by his family to cure him. It was his price for the Gift of Prophecy (see below), for now he could see things from far away in place or time, but could find no words to describe his visions. While he saved the village, many came to see him as a harbinger of evil tidings, for rarely were his warnings of a positive sort. A year later he was discovered by an old storyteller who visited Kadir. The old storyteller convinced Earlan’s parents to let him take Earlan to the Temple of Synarba which was home to priests of Bersan, a god of sages and prophets. Earlan and the storyteller traveled for many weeks and Earlan learned something of the art of the storytellers, though of course he could tell no stories. At the Temple of Synarba, Earlan was welcomed and his gift confirmed; he was ordained, and provided instruction in reading, writing, and theology. The moment he had learned to write properly, his mind was filled with poems, prophecies, riddles, and other cryptic phrases that nearly drove him mad till he learned to write out what was in his mind. Those prophecies were recorded at the Temple of Synarba and have been bound and copied and are studied by many scholars across the land. Earlan is known to those who study his prophecies as the Mute Prophet, almost none know his true name. Eventually, Earlan left the temple and took up traveling across the land. At the beginning of his travels, Earlan was robbed several times, chased out of towns, and spent many a night cold and hungry. Many of his prophecies during this time were written down, but lost. Fortunately, Earlan encountered a monk named Timaeus who took charge of his care and protection. Timaeus taught Earlan the Mudras of Myone, a secret sign language, and Timaeus now translates for Earlan. Today Earlan travels with his protector Timaeus and hands away his written prophecies with apparent randomness to strangers. To conceal his identity, Earlan poses as a storyteller and uses a spell (Song of the Fabled Minstrel) to perform the ancient stories, which as he is mute is the only way for him to tell stories. Earlan loves stories and songs and will often seeks out tournaments, fairs, and other events to watch the great performers in action, surprisingly he has also gained a reputation as a great performer. His modest income from storytelling combined with the hospitality of kind strangers has allowed Earlan and Timaeus to travel relatively safely across the land, but there are always dangers to a prophet.
Timaeus LG Human Male Monk 10 HD: 10d8+20 (65hp) Init: +6 Speed: 60 ft. Armor Class: 18, touch 16, flat-footed 16 BAB: +7/+2 Attack: Unarmed strike +9 melee (1d10+1) Full Attack: Flurry of Blows +9/+9/+4 melee (1d10+1) Special Attacks: flurry of blows, ki strike (lawful, magic) Special Qualities: evasion, improved evasion, purity of body, slow fall 50 ft., still mind, wholeness of body Saves: Fort +9, Ref +9, Will +9 Attributes: Str 12, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 11, Wis 15, Cha 8 Skills: Balance +4, Climb +4, Concentration +4, Diplomacy +7, Hide +6, Jump +4, Knowledge (Arcana) +3, Knowledge (Religion) +3, Listen +7, Move Silently +5, Perform (Oratory) +5, Profession (Storyteller) +6, Sense Motive +7, Speak (Common, Dwarven, Mudras of Myone), Spot +7, Swim +3, Tumble +6 Feats: Combat Expertise, Combat Reflexes, Deflect Arrows, Improved Disarm, Improved Initiative, Improved Unarmed Strike, Run, Stunning Fist, Weapon Focus (Unarmed Strike)
Description: Timaeus is in his thirties and is simply attired as a common traveler and carries no weapons nor wears any armor. He is a blunt and awkward speaker, whose eloquence is only found when translating the words of Earlan. As a storyteller he is average at best and is not very inspiring. Many question why Earlan has such a poor student. Unlike the often overly energetic Earlan, Timaeus is a pillar of tranquility and calmness, but is always vigilant for threats to his charge.
Equipment: Traveler’s outfit, entertainer’s outfit (only worn in duress), Bracers of Armor +2, Ring of Sustenance, (2) Potions of Cure Moderate Wounds, (5) Quaal’s Feather Tokens: Bird (used to contact the Order of Myone), a journal with copies of Earlan’s recent prophecies, and 1d4x50gp worth of coinage, plus Timaeus is usually carrying the coinage of Earlan.
History: Timaeus was orphaned during the last major war. He was taken in by the Order of Myone and grew up in their fortified monastery. The Order of Myone is dedicated to faithful guardianship, which is spiritual perfection accomplished by protecting one of the Sacred Jewels. The Sacred Jewels can be anything from people to items to even natural sites and are determined by the Abbot of the Order. Members of the Order of Myone take a vow of silence to focus them on their responsibilities and only communicate with simple gestures or with the Mudras of Myone, which is their secret language of hand gestures. Timaeus spent many years in study and practice and proudly joined the Order of Myone and waited for the Abbot to name the Sacred Jewel he was to protect. One morning he was met by the Abbot with some supplies, a written name (Earlan the Prophet), and a surprising command from the Abbot. Timaeus was to speak for the Prophet. It took Timaeus several months but eventually he found Earlan the Prophet. Timaeus spends his day protecting and translating for Earlan, who he has taught the Mudras of Myone. Timaeus rarely talks for himself and prefers only to translate for Earlan. During the nights he copies down Earlan’s prophecies and regularly sends his copies back to his monastery for safekeeping.
Strategy: Timaeus and Earlan never willingly enter into combat they go out of their way to avoid threats and dangerous areas. As a prophet, Earlan often can select routes that are safe to travel, but his gift is not perfect and sometimes they have fallen into danger. If the danger is minor, then Timaeus will deal with it and be healed by Earlan afterwards. If Earlan is seriously threatened, Earlan is to quaff the potion of invisibility he has and flee to some safe location, usually already selected by Timaeus at an earlier time. While Earlan flees, Timaeus is to keep the enemy occupied and then meet up with him later. They has no hesitation to fleeing from danger and this is there core strategy.
New Spell Song of the Fabled Minstrel Necromancy Level: Brd 4, Clr 4 Components: V, S, M Casting Time: 10 minutes Range: Self Target: You Duration: Special This spell channels the spirit of a fabled dead performer into the caster who uses the caster to perform a song, story, or other performance. The duration of the spell depends upon the performance requested, for example the Ballad of Lucky Kelpin Clearbrook will last about two minutes, while the Saga of the Six Dragon Kings will last at least two days. While the spell is in effect the caster will have the voice, mannerisms, and style of the channeled spirit. The caster will experience the performance, but has no control over the spirit during the performance, but the spirit can only act within the the scope of the performance. The DM should roll any necessary perform checks on behalf of the spirit. This is basically a possession, in which the spirit gets one last chance to entertain the living. At the end of the performance the spirit departs and the caster regains control of her body. Material Component: A piece of paper with the name of the dead minstrel and material that the caster wishes to be performed. This paper is burned at the end of the casting time.
New Feats Faithful Guardian [General] You are protected by a monk who has devoted her life to your safety. Prerequisites: 6th level. Benefit: With this feat the character receives a monk to serve as the character’s bodyguard. This monk is the same level as a cohort would be if the leadership feat had been taken instead, with some exceptions. First, there is no penalty for having a different alignment as long as at least one element of the alignment is common between the character and the monk. For example, a CG character could have a LG monk faithful guardian at no penalty. Second, the penalty for causing the death of a faithful guardian is only a cumulative -1 instead of the -2 of the leadership feat, but it will take a few weeks to months for the next monk to arrive. Special: The DM should develop the codes for any monks acquired by the faithful guardian feat. Some good examples include never speaking except to their charge, never leaving the sight of their charge, or only fighting in defense of their charge.
Gift of Prophecy [General]You are blessed with the gift of prophecy. Prerequisites: Wis 15, Limitation (see below). Benefit: Once per day you may attempt a DC 20 wisdom check to receive a prophetic vision, you may also receive additional visions from the DM for special situations. Prophetic visions can take many forms from a poem to a song to a genuine vision of some event. Not all prophetic visions are of the future, some deal with the present and past when understanding of these events can provide insight into some pending future event. Most prophecies describe a critical moment in time, but not necessarily the outcome of that moment. Limitation: The gods always demand a price for the gift of prophecy, the more potent the limitation the more potent the prophetic visions. This limitation can be a physical handicap to perhaps no one ever believing the prophet. If this handicap is ever cured the gift of prophecy is lost as well. Special: This feat is best reserved for NPCs as a plot device. PCs with the gift of prophecy feat will require DMs to have a clear idea of where the campaign is going or at least what events are likely to occur. The DM will thus need a number of prophecies to give the PC, the more cryptic the better as this allows more room to maneuver.
Adventure Hooks • While visiting a fair or tournament the PCs are given a piece of paper by an old storyteller that contains a clue to their current quest. Before they can ask any questions, the old storyteller is escorted away by another person. • The PCs are contacted by Timaeus to acquire some prophecies that were stolen from Earlan a few years ago and are in the possession of a bandit king. Timaeus wants these prophecies taken to his monastery for safekeeping. • The PCs need to interpret a prophecy and are told to seek out the Mute Prophet who originally provided the prophecy, of course, Earlan is disguised as a storyteller. • The PCs are hired to find Earlan the Storyteller and to bring him back to perform at a wedding between two noble families. In truth, the noble who hired the PCs wants to get a prophecy from Earlan, but there is a wedding as well so the noble decided to be economical. • The PCs learn that dark forces are seeking to capture Earlan the Prophet to prevent him from providing a prophecy that may lead to the defeat of their plans. The PCs need to find Earlan first and protect him from evil.
Stunning Glance (Su): As a standard action, Orylea can stun a creature within 30 feet with a look. The target creature must succeed on a DC 13 Fortitude save or be stunned for 2d4 rounds. The save DC is Charisma-based.
Blinding Beauty (Su): This ability affects all humanoids within 30 feet of Orylea. Those who look directly at Orylea must succeed on a DC 13 Fortitude save or be blinded permanently as though by the blindness spell. Orylea can suppress or resume this ability as a free action. The save DC is Charisma-based.
Spell-Like Abilities: 1/day—dimension door. Caster level 7th. Unearthly Grace (Su) Orylea adds her Charisma modifier as a bonus on all of her saving throws, and as a deflection bonus to her Armor Class (Orylea has a Charisma modifier of 0, thus she gains none of these bonuses)
Wild Empathy (Ex): This power works like the druid’s wild empathy class feature, except that Orylea has a +6 racial bonus on the check, giving her a +6 modifier
Skill Bonuses: Orylea has a +8 racial bonus on any Swim check to perform some special action or avoid a hazard. She can always choose to take 10 on a Swim check, even if distracted or endangered. She can use the run action while swimming, provided she swims in a straight line.
Spells: Orylea casts divine spells as a 7th-level druid. Typical Druid Spells Prepared (6/6/4/3/2, save DC 15 + spell level)
Commonly prepared spells: 0—cure minor wounds x3, detect magic, light, resistance; 1st—calm animals, cure light wounds, detect animals or plants, endure elements, longstrider, speak with animals; 2nd—barkskin, bear’s endurance, gust of wind, heat metal; 3rd— cure moderate wounds x2, stone shape; 4th—freedom of movement, rusting grasp.
Equipment of Note: Dagger, Dragonhide Light Shield, Dragonscale Full Plate, Healing Kit (10 uses)
Orylea’s Story --As told by the nymph Orylea
I
I once knew of a place where everything was perfect. Such places do not exist anymore. They are the long forgotten artifacts of a world that circled many seasons in the past. The place I speak of was one of natural harmony and perfect balance. All of the creatures within it were granted the freedom to exist in their natural order, bound only by the universal laws of survival and succession. In the low lands, oak trees were allowed to climb to magnificent heights, casting cool shadows for moss to grow freely. Deer and wolves played out their dance along with other prey and their predators, checked by the subtle hand of nature. This place I knew of was the purest sort of place, untouched by the corrupting influences of the gods and their thralls. Fresh water flowed down from the mountain side, giving the land its lifeblood. The bears hunted the fish, the wildflowers carved niches wherever their roots could take hold and slowly, as generations past, each creature evolved, ascending its form ever closer to perfection.
I knew this place, because my very spirit was forged from it. Truly, I am that spirit, given form for the purpose of protecting the land from that which would threaten to corrupt its purity. To serve as protector; this was the nature of my very being, so it could be referred to, and without thought I accepted and relished this role. The perfect mechanisms of nature were beautiful to watch unfold. Both cyclic and predictable, yet completely random and exciting at their very core. This was a time when the world was more at peace than it is today. Rarely were there any incursions into the land to which my responsibilities were bound. Yes, occasionally, a woodsman would wander too far off course or a goblin would get lost and I could simply right their paths with a glance and a smile. These harmless encounters had no effect on the purity of the natural land itself. But these encounters, few and far between as they came, were most certainly having a tremendous effect on me.
My spirit grew curious, and I could not help but wonder what it was that separated these beings from nature itself. Questions mounted in my heart. Why were these creatures kept outside of the realm of nature? Was it their gods that corrupted them, granting them an autonomy that made them unnatural, and thereby, a threat? Or was it autonomy itself? Certainly the answer could not be the latter, because I myself was a thinking, reasoning and autonomous being who was very much part of nature. Far from the antagonist, I filled an integral role within the cycle. Why was it necessary to deny these other beings access to all that I was granted the privilege to know and behold? As my curiosity reached its pinnacle, I decided to explore these beings, these creatures which could commonly be referred to as “humanoids.” I sought to find out exactly what about them was corruptive and deemed harmful by nature.
At the time, I would not have defined my interest in the humanoid races as an obsession: though it can be said that any habit which hurts the things you love certainly qualifies as such. I can not say that I was neglectful of my duties, but as I began to venture out on my own, wandering further and further from my charge into the lands occupied by the humanoids, it was inevitable that I would come to miss the small things. There are fourteen signs in nature that those well attuned will seldom fail to recognize and read at the moment they take notice. These minor events, so routine in appearance, are written into the laws of the universe. They are a means of warning the true guardians of nature such as myself, of impending danger or devastation, and when deciphered correctly, they are the key instructions on how to act in a way which will best protect or preserve those charges for which we are responsible. So subtle are these signs, be they the falling of a branch with two orange leaves or a particularly beautiful pattern of bubbles at the bottom of a waterfall, that they must be sought after actively or they are bound to be missed altogether. As protector, it was my duty to keep my eyes at the ready, always scanning and searching for the first sign in a string which would begin to unfold the fate of my charge. Instead, my gaze was turned outward, deciphering the intricacies of a self-crafted environment. The works of humanoids captured my attention. They were amazing in their own right. These beings built more complicated denizens than the most intrepid beaver could ever fathom. They followed social conventions that would astound the most intelligent hyena matriarch. And throughout it all, the humanoid races walked such a fine line between disarray and pattern that many times the mere daily activities of these creatures surpassed the beauty of nature itself. It was easy to lose myself in the sheer fascination of it all.
Know that I had not turned my back on nature, for I still relied on it for my strength. I still remained vigilant despite my absence from my charge. But even so, I was amazed by the humanoids. Some things were just so difficult to deny. The races created huge buildings of great beauty as signs of their faith. They held wonderful camaraderie, even though they often argued and warred over petty matters. Things were never in harmony in the cities, but that very balance which defined nature was in fact present and impossible to refute. What may have made these places so tempting and attractive was that the humanoids were doing all of these things not because of the tenets of a universal law, but rather because they simply wanted to. They were able to exist by their own laws and even though their world was often violent and filled with uncertainty, even though the races were so short lived, their customs lived on and enabled their ideas and conviction to sustain their society beyond the existence of any one member.
My journeys to visit the humanoids were short at first, but extended in length over time. The mechanisms of nature were stable and I presumed my continuous presence within the untouched forest was unnecessary or even wasted. In many ways, I thought that perhaps the humanoids required my aid more then nature, but never did their rickety social supports collapse. What I was doing was not reconnaissance on my enemy or a systematic study of their habits for future analysis and interpretation. What I was doing was having fun, enjoying the drama of their trials and tribulations. I saw this as lacking consequence, as each time I returned to my charge, even from the longest of departures, the trees still stood tall, the water still flowed cool and crisp, and the wildflowers still flourished, their bright petals greeting me with each return.
Yet my consistency in returning to my charge proved not to be enough. The signs came and went without my knowledge. I may have been there yet failed to notice them. I may have been away, not in a position to spot and interpret them. Whatever the case, I did not know that they had come and gone, perhaps quickly, perhaps slowly with the cycling of the seasons. I did not know until I saw and read immediately. The Fourteenth sign. The final sign. I saw it upon one of my many returns from observing the humanoids. The sight was most distressing and upon the realization of its significance my entire being sank. A sapling, perhaps a foot in height, was crushed into the ground, as if caught and stomped underfoot where no feet had yet to tread. My mind struggled to imagine the consequences. Something massive and deadly was happening. My sense of responsibility was the only thing on my mind, and I forgot the world of humanoids and raced, panic stricken, to my own home.
II
it must be known that the pristine purity of my home was not mere coincidence. The land which was my charge rested upon a wellspring of magical energy. Nature sought to keep this energy safe and hidden from any and all beings who might subvert its power or steal it for their own use. Without its protector, nature had to resort to its own devices, devastating as they were. Even as I hurried to return, I could feel the beginnings of the last days of life as I knew it. The ground creaked underfoot, the grumbling and moaning of the shifting land filled my ears with its words of disapproval. Before long, the tremulent earth would show its hand, taking matters into its own discretion. I had missed all of the signs save one, and that would not be enough. Still, I ran, each step more unsteady then the last as the vibrations of the ground heightened in intensity. Would the land itself split open to swallow all that threatened it? Such a massive display of might well beyond my own means demonstrated to me that I was no longer needed. There was nothing that I could do to right the wrong which I had committed against nature. I refused to accept this. My heart still resided in those trees, in those waters, and at the top of that mountain. I needed to be with those animals, to get them to safety. The cycles of nature were broken and they would need guidance to find their way to safety.
As I got closer, I saw those precious creatures. I saw the fear in the wolves’ eyes. My gaze fell upon them, beckoned them to follow. But as I stood waiting, I knew that those animals would come to me no longer. They ran, back to the only place that they had known. Back to the destruction which was fast mounting. No longer could I run, no longer could I even stand. But it did not matter. One of the great oak trees, a being that had lived in this forest longer than even I had, fell only yards from my feet. I watched as other sentinels of the woods toppled, barring my passage. I was forced to stay in my place. To watch and listen. What damage had I done? I forced my eyes shut unable to bear the sight any longer, but my ears did not cease in punishing me. Although the volume of the chaos at hand was rising to its apex, I could make out the screams of pain from the dying animals; the snapping limbs that had struggled so long to reach the sun. And then I heard the lifeblood dripping. Each drop finding its mark upon the soil, returning to nature that which is only borrowed.
I could take the torment no longer. I screamed, heaving myself blindly into the over the trees, into wreckage. With the best of what remained of my strength and grace, I attempted to help and to heal, but the greatest oaks which I had seen spring up from acorns prevented me from going any further then I already had. A sudden and violent jolt of the earth shook me hard onto the ground. Slowly I rose to my feet, stricken with the realization that I had no way back into my home. Lest my own spirit be lost, I began to run from the very place that had given me life. In fear I ran from this place. Nature would not take my aid. I was abandoned because I had failed. Left to die. My eyes did not deserve one last glance. But still, I knew that I must apologize.
I turned around, the remorse welling up into shameful tears which fell upon my cheeks. Through hazy lenses I saw the devastation which was culminating. The strongest and oldest of the trees breaking under the stress, the earth itself cracking under the tremendous pressure of nature’s violence, splintering at seams that rested invisibly for centuries. With great hesitance I guiltily looked up to the sky to see the birds, the only creatures who would be spared this small segment of loss. The robins, flying free only to watch their homes collapse in upon themselves. All I wanted was some small hope, some sign that even though everything had turned out wrong, there was some small bit of a chance that it could all be made right once more.
Instead, what I saw felled me like the willow tree I had seen fall not long before. On my knees my eyes stayed transfixed on the cloud filled sky, but focused on a form that I had never seen before. A flying emerald swept through the sky. It approached with a ponderous gait powered by malicious strokes from mighty wings. I could feel my throat closing up. The debris in the air was settling thickly. Each breath came with more effort then the last. I watched. The gem in the sky came closer and became more distinct. Somewhere in my spirit, I knew what this thing was. I knew that I should run but my legs refused to yield to my heart’s command. I choked on the fetid air as the shape came ever closer and became more distinct. By the time the form tilted to make its decent, I could make out each individual scale on the tip of his snout.
While I should have been completely consumed by fear of this massive abomination to the face of nature, my fear became tempered by a horrifying revelation. Nature had not buried its enemy under its own weight as I would have imagined. Instead, in order to preserve its chastity, nature had deliberately destroyed its most precious possession to keep the claws of this fell beast from exhuming its untarnished essence. The form of evil stared at me. It might have been laughing, but all I could do was inhale the noxious fumes venting from between massive teeth which agitated my already strained lungs. I knew I should have been afraid. I should have cowered and pleaded. I should have submitted, as my traitorous life lacked any worth.
But staring into the beast’s indignant eyes, my wrath erupted. My skin already burned from the caustic gas and now my own spirit burned with a pain that matched. My role was once again clear as crystal. This paradise may have been destroyed because of my treason, but it was this monstrosity that had set everything into motion, the cause for the fourteenth sign, as well as all thirteen which had come and gone unnoticed before it. While my inner being had become desolate with ignominy, this creature stared its haughty smirk, not displeased to see this once pristine land now razed. Even if it meant nothing anymore, I placed all of these feelings into a single glare, one that would at least give the monster a glimpse of the pain I felt.
Of course, the beast had no desire to pay for its crimes, and as I met its gaze and fixed my stare, the massive abomination expelled a consuming cloud of death that only a despicable monster such as this could fill its lungs with. Quickly I threw myself flat to the ground in hopes of avoiding what was certain to come. The thick vapor coated my flesh and my lungs. I wanted to scream, but such a thing was impossible to do. Every inch of my body burned and I thought my eyes would melt out of their sockets, but in only a few moments, the gas began to clear and somehow, the world around me reappeared. I was alive. There was nothing pleasurable about this realization. For a moment, I lied still, hoping that the moisture remaining from the gas would burn me away, but suddenly I remembered what it was that had brought me to this point. My foe still lived and was near. Slowly, I fought through the pain to turn my head and look for the beast, wondering why it had not yet come to finish me.
There above me the emerald abomination stood frozen, jaws agape and eyes transfixed upon me. Scarcely was its figure animate, merely posing in some combination of shock and reflection. No sooner than I could ask the question of what could have brought such a wicked force to a sudden stop that the answer quickly came to me. My glare had stopped the creature, though certainly this condition was temporary. Soon, the malicious entity would recover and finish its despicable agenda. And even though I knew this, there was not a part of me which could be swayed to budge.
Forcing my body into action, I lifted myself off the ground, ready for the conclusion of this showdown. While preparing myself for this end, I noticed something wrong. I was aware of another presence around me. I thought perhaps it was a wounded animal who had gathered the courage to investigate the catastrophe and this new intrusion. For an instant I searched And than I saw this presence. A bear, but everything about it was terribly wrong. The creature had shape, but not form. Its chest moved, but it did not breathe. Its legs marched, but failed to touch the ground. But worst of all, I could not feel its essence. Even though I knew exactly what this creature was, I had no idea what it had become. And more frighteningly, other creatures were following it in a haunting procession toward the inanimate fell beast. A deer, a wolf, a rabbit and a weasel all followed. Even a blue-jay that used to sing as it perched in the palm of my hand flew to keep pace. And they were all wrong, all empty visages of what they once were. Nature no longer blessed these spirits flung out of the cycle of life.
Upon reaching their loathsome prey, the formless creatures tried their best to dismantle its form. Jaws, claws, hooves, and even the beak of the blue-jay which functioned best in serving worms to its young, they all made futile attempts to rend the beast. But none of them were able to dent the armored plates it carried. With great hubris they fought on, seeming confused, but never relenting. I did not know what to think. I wanted to be scared that when the beast awoke, it would eviscerate all of those poor animals just trying to defend their home. Although I knew that they were no longer living, I could not deny them the chance. I felt complete pity for these creatures who deserved none of this torment which had befallen them.
Now standing and waiting, the condemnable beast became mobile again. Yet rather than slaughter all of the creatures which surrounded it, the colossal fiend’s merely slumped to the ground in a massive heap. It happened abruptly with no drama. The earth did not split to claim its prey. Lightening did not strike to fry and mutilate the scales and all that resided within. The creature simply fell and did not move again.
III
The unliving animals stood silently circling the fallen body of the beast. They saw their quarry fallen before them. Slain by their blows, even though there were no familiar and visible marks of the hunt. They stared down at their kill for some time before the inevitable would happen: slowly, the unloving animals turned to face me. They seemed worried, but happy to see my face. I shuddered, unable to feel their happiness as I once had. This was a truly horrid feeling. They began to move toward me, seeking comfort from their protector spirit. I knew that I had no consolation to offer these unliving souls. Despite this, I did not back away from my animals. They came straight to me without reservation. My heart could only pound, the kind of fear reserved for mortals. But they did not notice. I stood frozen in place as the bear lifted his massive mitt and placed it gently upon my right cheek.
At his gentle touch I felt no warmth, no contact, only a sudden chill, the kind of cold that must exist only in the furthest reaches of the world. The cold did not meet my flesh, which still burned from the acrid gas. It seeped within. The very substance of my spirit was being ripped, as if sliced by a dagger made of ice sharpened so perfectly that it meets no resistance at all. Perhaps my spirit was just fragile. Perhaps I had no resistance to give. But upon feeling that pain, all I could do was fall back to my knees and whimper, wishing this to end.
The other creatures saw my distress and empathetically tried to lift my spirit with nudges from their beaks or muzzles, but each attempt at a touch only renewed the dread sensation. I writhed. The unliving creatures balked. Their forms slowly began to fade. I stared up from my fetal stance as they faded into nothingness. My spirit was shattered, my body was exhausted, and my mind was unable to comprehend anything. I just lied there for days, perhaps weeks, beside the body of the fell beast. From my position beside it, I could feel that the beast was still alive, comatose. Occasionally, it would spew forth a growl filled with bitter haze. Saliva dripped from its mouth. It was dying of thirst and hunger, lost in a land of its own creation. Eventually I stopped looking and listening to it, and by the time I was able to stand again, the monster had expired.
IIII
For the first time is my existence, I was without a home. By my natural role, I was a protector and I no longer had anything to protect. Yet, I was still alive. There was no denying this. I continued to be part of the world, even though I had no role within it. My connection to nature was wholly severed. I was weaker than I had ever been before, denied the gifts of strength and grace which it had once bestowed upon me. I could do no more to serve nature, but I needed a place to go.
The only place that I could think to go was to the cities of the humanoids, to return to watching them. Soon enough, I even entered those cities and was taken in as a lost cousin, horribly wounded in some unknown battle. I tried my best to become friendly with the people I was with. My magic was able to assist them when they needed it. Still, there was never any connection between myself and any individual. While they believed me to be one of their own, in truth I was a very alien being. Even though I spent much time studying people, I could not fully relate to them. I could not bond with them as I had once bonded so easily with the animals.
In order to avoid becoming suspicious, I traveled from town to town, never taking up permanent residence. As I saw the great variety of humanoids, I became appalled to see many of the things they did to one another. Yes, often times the animals would kill, but they did it to feed themselves, as part of nature’s perfect cycle, knowing that if they did not, they would ultimately perish. But the humanoids killed with malice. They hurt each other for sheer pleasure, they stole for personal comfort, and they betrayed one another for their own gains. I was shocked by these actions. There were no excuses. It seemed that each humanoid had a piece of the fell beat’s evil spirit lurking somewhere within, though some worked harder then others in their struggle to suppress it. Perhaps nature was correct in shunning these beings who were capable of performing grievous harm. But with thoughts of the animals of my home who had come to me once more in their unlife, I embraced the humanoid races. They were willing to aid me in my time of need. True, they had faults, but was I perfect? Rather than ignore or condemn them, I felt compelled to help them. I took it as my duty to protect them from that fell beast lurking inside. Humanoids were now my charge and rather than refer to them abstractly, I simply named them ‘Kindred.’
I now realize that I was never shattered, nor was I broken beyond repair. The scars that show so prominently upon my flesh remain. I wholly accept them. They are the signs of forgiveness from those I failed. My disconnection from nature is marked by these imperfections, because to pretend to be perfect would be a lie. I wear the green scales of the fell beast in mockery of its perverted ideals. Those, the very vices which I seek to purify in my kindred, making known the necessity for each to recognize and abolish the evil within. No one can conquer someone else’s demons in their stead, but without a guiding hand, they have little hope of ever doing so on their own. My Kindred gave me the strength and it is my greatest pleasure to lend my spirit in return.
I am home.
Physical Description of the nymph Orylea
Long tresses of black hair froth forth from beneath the emerald green scales of a dragon skull helmet, each lock falling limply and ending in ringlets at the small of her back. The flat coloration of the hair seems to absorb light completely, giving it a dull appearance. Hazel orbs hide within the shadows of this grand helm, surveying the world rather than judging it. A matching suit of field plate fashioned from the same brilliant green scales seems like it would be unwieldy as it wraps around a thin female form that comes short of five and a half feet in height. Indeed, these green scales cover every inch of her body, protecting and concealing what appears to be a gentle figure, perhaps that of an elven maid. Strapped to her back is a shield that shares the same set of scales upon its front. The only weapon that the figure appears to carry is a single hunting knife on a leather belt around her waist.
Should her gauntleted hands decide to remove the helm, a pallid face meets its beholder with a blank-rimmed stare. Adorning her right cheek is a large mark, appearing to be a bruise of some nature. To an observant eye it appears to be in the shape of a cruel wound from the claw of a large animal. Other such scars cover her skin, but are less apparent at an initial glance. A close inspection of these blemishes reveals that they are actually scars, deep, old, and chill to the touch. The structure of her face is very well balanced and perfect in its symmetry, giving the eerie impression that this woman once possessed an unearthly beauty now lost on the field of some battle long resolved but never forgotten.
Now that you know that your game can never be complete without her, here are some suggestions on how to integrate Orylea.
Currently, Orylea spends most of her time in various towns and cities, often performing minor miracles and helping to bring criminals to justice. Tracking and healing are her specialties, but when circumstances are dire, she tries just about anything to help. If ruffians should enter a town and harass the local citizens, Orylea will be there to help track them down so they may receive their punishment. She does not keep friends, but her distinct appearance makes her memorable to most everyone who encounters her. Few can forget the thin figure encased in dragonscale armor and the few people who see her face will never forget the haunting scars. As such, a simple Gather Information (DC 10) check will reveal that Orylea has been through a particular town recently, along with a good deed or two that she has done for the people.
As a short or long term character, Orylea can serve as a plot hook, as an ally, a source of information or as an interesting side character for the players to meet.
Plot hook: There are a number of ways Orylea can draw the characters into an adventure. She can ask them to help her track down an evildoer. Her good intentions can be taken advantage of and she may be in need of rescuing from a society that does not accept her help, possibly orcs. She may be under assault from a criminal group who want her out of the way as she is too steadfast to be bribed. The players can use her story to lead them to the long forgotten green dragon lair or the ruins of the unknown source of nature’s magic, which may or may not still exist. Orylea may be wounded from an assault by a savage monster and be in need of aid.
Ally: The PCs may lack a character with the Track feat and need someone to help them find a villain. Orylea and the PCs may be trying to find the same fugitive and join forces. Someone in the party may be in need of healing which the party is unable to provide. During her travels, Orylea may come upon their camp and help the wounded, potentially leading the party into another adventure. The party may temporarily accompany Orylea as they attempt to take down a criminal organization
Source of Information: Orylea has a number of useful skills that the characters may need, and she is willing to share if they have good intentions, including Knowledge (Local) +7, Knowledge (Nature) +7 and Survival +9. Orylea may also have situational information based on her travels, such as helpful facts about different cities and towns, wanted criminals and where to go for common needs, supplies and knowledge she is unable to provide.
Interesting Side Character: Orylea can be motivational. When the characters are at a low, from a defeat or a loss, Orylea and her tragic story can show how hope springs eternal. Orylea can be a very interesting volunteer town guard in a downtrodden location. She may serve as the town healer in a small village. In many cases, she can be an enigmatic local celebrity that people want to learn more about. Orylea can be an acquaintance to a group of good adventurers, lending them aid and if necessary asking it in return, forming a beneficial give and take relationship with people whose ideals are similar. She can be an emissary of peace between cities in strife, attempting to settle differences and calm heated tempers. All in all, she can fill any position that an outsider without a home seeking to help her Kindred might fall into.
Orylea's Personality:
Orylea is a very emotional being. She becomes very excited and exudes energy when she is actively tracking a criminal or carrying out a mission of mercy. When things don’t turn out well, the tears tend to flow, particularly when people are hurt or killed at the hands of others. When something she has done makes another happy, she becomes giddy, sharing their joy. When things are calm and quiet, Orylea worries about what could go wrong. Through all of these varied states of being, one thing is constant: Orylea takes her role seriously and does not find humor in the distress and hardships of others.
Current events are her preferred topic of conversation, the kind of on the go chatter that adventures tend to favor. While not unwilling to discuss her past, she sees no reason to reveal anything unless she is asked and the questioner has earned her trust. Even then she is hesitant, and would rather talk about the history of others and their accomplishments. This is not because she is protective of the story of her past, as it happened so long ago, but the emotions well up when she speaks of the animals and the dread monster which took them from her. Her tone is melancholy as she tells her tale and she does not like the sad emotions it makes her feel. However, if she reaches the finish, it always ends in a flurry of hopeful emotions as she is able to revitalize her wounded spirit.
Orylea in Combat:
Orylea detests violent combat, but she accepts that sometimes it is necessary to thwart the fell beast in others. When she is on her own, Orylea is never actively seeking out a fight. If she senses that she is about to fall prey to some situation which would be violent or deadly, Orylea will use her dimension door spell like ability to get as far from the threat as possible and hopefully avoiding it altogether. If she is ambushed for whatever reason, she will use her blinding beauty in combination with her ability to use her spells to summon animals which will help to fight for her and keep the attackers at bay. In a group, she will use her spells to aid the party as best she can. Healing and buffing spells to ensure survivability, or calling upon nature’s allies to help wherever needed. Her Augment Summoning feat helps to pump up her summoned creatures, giving them the extra strength and energy that they will need to fight.
Advancement Note:
Orylea can be easily advanced by adding druid levels. Any stat increases should be put into wisdom. Orylea will not take an animal companion.
The Orylea Q&A Session
What was that green beast that she kept referring to?
A green dragon. She had never encountered one before.
So how did that dragon get whooped?
First, the dragon and the nymph rolled the same initiatives. Than, the dragon rolled a 1 on its fort save against stunning glance, locking it up for 8 rounds (very unlucky, not to mention all the 1s he rolled on his breath weapon damage). Last, ghosts beat his bad touch AC and charisma drained him into a coma, after which he eventually starved and dehydrated. Remember, drain doesn’t heal.
What’s the deal with Orylea’s charisma score?
It used to be 21, but after all the ghost charisma drain, it was lowered to 10. Drain is permanent. For flavor reasons, this is why she has all the weird scars. If someone has knowledge (nature), they might recognize the mark on Orylea’s face as a brown bear paw (DC 16).
Well, there is this spell called restoration. Why doesn’t someone just cast it on her?
That would work, there is no denying it, but Orylea would never allow it willingly. She needs those scars as a reminder of those she had abandoned and those that had forgiven her. The original charisma is listed in case some sort of forced restoration were to occur. Along with the mechanical adjustments (unearthly grace, DCs, Wild Empathy), Orylea’s appearance would be restored, removing the scars and giving her entire body a supernatural shine.
What happened to the ruined utopia?
Nymphs live a LONG time, so if you do not want this setting anywhere near your game, you can just say it is long buried and forgotten. The magic source that was once there was destroyed by nature itself. You can of course use the idea if you’d like, but it is easily omitted.
You omitted your character’s CR. Why?
Mainly, because the CR of this character may be in dispute. Officially, a Nymph is CR 7, but without a charisma bonus, Orylea is much easier to beat. She does have elite array stats, some gear and level 7 druid casting, so she still has some things going her way. I would rule Orylea a CR 6 conservatively, but you may be hesitant to have a monster with casting level higher than CR which is understandable. However, this will probably be a pushover encounter at CR 7, and perhaps even at CR 6. Most NPC encounters are pushovers anyway, the Nymph is a monster so it is worth noting. In order to keep the Nymph at CR 7, you may want to add more gear. I suggest a cloak of resistance +2 to make her more survivable. All of this may be moot, because she really isn’t cruising for a bruising.
There isn’t any information about where Orylea lives or who she knows. Does she live in a vacuum or something?
My job is to make the NPC. Your job is to fit her into your world. Like most adventurers, she doesn’t have a home in the material sense, so she can be wherever you need her. Rather than give unneeded details, you can easily plug in the cities and personalities of your setting when deciding where to find her and who she knows. While she has been a traveler in the past, if you have a village or city in need of her, she can easily plant her roots for a longer stay.
Stunning Glance (Su): As a standard action, Orylea can stun a creature within 30 feet with a look. The target creature must succeed on a DC 13 Fortitude save or be stunned for 2d4 rounds. The save DC is Charisma-based.
Blinding Beauty (Su): This ability affects all humanoids within 30 feet of Orylea. Those who look directly at Orylea must succeed on a DC 13 Fortitude save or be blinded permanently as though by the blindness spell. Orylea can suppress or resume this ability as a free action. The save DC is Charisma-based.
Spell-Like Abilities: 1/day—dimension door. Caster level 7th. Unearthly Grace (Su) Orylea adds her Charisma modifier as a bonus on all of her saving throws, and as a deflection bonus to her Armor Class (Orylea has a Charisma modifier of 0, thus she gains none of these bonuses)
Wild Empathy (Ex): This power works like the druid’s wild empathy class feature, except that Orylea has a +6 racial bonus on the check, giving her a +6 modifier
Skill Bonuses: Orylea has a +8 racial bonus on any Swim check to perform some special action or avoid a hazard. She can always choose to take 10 on a Swim check, even if distracted or endangered. She can use the run action while swimming, provided she swims in a straight line.
Spells: Orylea casts divine spells as a 7th-level druid. Typical Druid Spells Prepared (6/6/4/3/2, save DC 15 + spell level)
Commonly prepared spells: 0—cure minor wounds x3, detect magic, light, resistance; 1st—calm animals, cure light wounds, detect animals or plants, endure elements, longstrider, speak with animals; 2nd—barkskin, bear’s endurance, gust of wind, heat metal; 3rd— cure moderate wounds x2, stone shape; 4th—freedom of movement, rusting grasp.
Equipment of Note: Dagger, Dragonhide Light Shield, Dragonscale Full Plate, Healing Kit (10 uses)
Orylea’s Story --As told by the nymph Orylea
I
I once knew of a place where everything was perfect. Such places do not exist anymore. They are the long forgotten artifacts of a world that circled many seasons in the past. The place I speak of was one of natural harmony and perfect balance. All of the creatures within it were granted the freedom to exist in their natural order, bound only by the universal laws of survival and succession. In the low lands, oak trees were allowed to climb to magnificent heights, casting cool shadows for moss to grow freely. Deer and wolves played out their dance along with other prey and their predators, checked by the subtle hand of nature. This place I knew of was the purest sort of place, untouched by the corrupting influences of the gods and their thralls. Fresh water flowed down from the mountain side, giving the land its lifeblood. The bears hunted the fish, the wildflowers carved niches wherever their roots could take hold and slowly, as generations past, each creature evolved, ascending its form ever closer to perfection.
I knew this place, because my very spirit was forged from it. Truly, I am that spirit, given form for the purpose of protecting the land from that which would threaten to corrupt its purity. To serve as protector; this was the nature of my very being, so it could be referred to, and without thought I accepted and relished this role. The perfect mechanisms of nature were beautiful to watch unfold. Both cyclic and predictable, yet completely random and exciting at their very core. This was a time when the world was more at peace than it is today. Rarely were there any incursions into the land to which my responsibilities were bound. Yes, occasionally, a woodsman would wander too far off course or a goblin would get lost and I could simply right their paths with a glance and a smile. These harmless encounters had no effect on the purity of the natural land itself. But these encounters, few and far between as they came, were most certainly having a tremendous effect on me.
My spirit grew curious, and I could not help but wonder what it was that separated these beings from nature itself. Questions mounted in my heart. Why were these creatures kept outside of the realm of nature? Was it their gods that corrupted them, granting them an autonomy that made them unnatural, and thereby, a threat? Or was it autonomy itself? Certainly the answer could not be the latter, because I myself was a thinking, reasoning and autonomous being who was very much part of nature. Far from the antagonist, I filled an integral role within the cycle. Why was it necessary to deny these other beings access to all that I was granted the privilege to know and behold? As my curiosity reached its pinnacle, I decided to explore these beings, these creatures which could commonly be referred to as “humanoids.” I sought to find out exactly what about them was corruptive and deemed harmful by nature.
At the time, I would not have defined my interest in the humanoid races as an obsession: though it can be said that any habit which hurts the things you love certainly qualifies as such. I can not say that I was neglectful of my duties, but as I began to venture out on my own, wandering further and further from my charge into the lands occupied by the humanoids, it was inevitable that I would come to miss the small things. There are fourteen signs in nature that those well attuned will seldom fail to recognize and read at the moment they take notice. These minor events, so routine in appearance, are written into the laws of the universe. They are a means of warning the true guardians of nature such as myself, of impending danger or devastation, and when deciphered correctly, they are the key instructions on how to act in a way which will best protect or preserve those charges for which we are responsible. So subtle are these signs, be they the falling of a branch with two orange leaves or a particularly beautiful pattern of bubbles at the bottom of a waterfall, that they must be sought after actively or they are bound to be missed altogether. As protector, it was my duty to keep my eyes at the ready, always scanning and searching for the first sign in a string which would begin to unfold the fate of my charge. Instead, my gaze was turned outward, deciphering the intricacies of a self-crafted environment. The works of humanoids captured my attention. They were amazing in their own right. These beings built more complicated denizens than the most intrepid beaver could ever fathom. They followed social conventions that would astound the most intelligent hyena matriarch. And throughout it all, the humanoid races walked such a fine line between disarray and pattern that many times the mere daily activities of these creatures surpassed the beauty of nature itself. It was easy to lose myself in the sheer fascination of it all.
Know that I had not turned my back on nature, for I still relied on it for my strength. I still remained vigilant despite my absence from my charge. But even so, I was amazed by the humanoids. Some things were just so difficult to deny. The races created huge buildings of great beauty as signs of their faith. They held wonderful camaraderie, even though they often argued and warred over petty matters. Things were never in harmony in the cities, but that very balance which defined nature was in fact present and impossible to refute. What may have made these places so tempting and attractive was that the humanoids were doing all of these things not because of the tenets of a universal law, but rather because they simply wanted to. They were able to exist by their own laws and even though their world was often violent and filled with uncertainty, even though the races were so short lived, their customs lived on and enabled their ideas and conviction to sustain their society beyond the existence of any one member.
My journeys to visit the humanoids were short at first, but extended in length over time. The mechanisms of nature were stable and I presumed my continuous presence within the untouched forest was unnecessary or even wasted. In many ways, I thought that perhaps the humanoids required my aid more then nature, but never did their rickety social supports collapse. What I was doing was not reconnaissance on my enemy or a systematic study of their habits for future analysis and interpretation. What I was doing was having fun, enjoying the drama of their trials and tribulations. I saw this as lacking consequence, as each time I returned to my charge, even from the longest of departures, the trees still stood tall, the water still flowed cool and crisp, and the wildflowers still flourished, their bright petals greeting me with each return.
Yet my consistency in returning to my charge proved not to be enough. The signs came and went without my knowledge. I may have been there yet failed to notice them. I may have been away, not in a position to spot and interpret them. Whatever the case, I did not know that they had come and gone, perhaps quickly, perhaps slowly with the cycling of the seasons. I did not know until I saw and read immediately. The Fourteenth sign. The final sign. I saw it upon one of my many returns from observing the humanoids. The sight was most distressing and upon the realization of its significance my entire being sank. A sapling, perhaps a foot in height, was crushed into the ground, as if caught and stomped underfoot where no feet had yet to tread. My mind struggled to imagine the consequences. Something massive and deadly was happening. My sense of responsibility was the only thing on my mind, and I forgot the world of humanoids and raced, panic stricken, to my own home.
II
it must be known that the pristine purity of my home was not mere coincidence. The land which was my charge rested upon a wellspring of magical energy. Nature sought to keep this energy safe and hidden from any and all beings who might subvert its power or steal it for their own use. Without its protector, nature had to resort to its own devices, devastating as they were. Even as I hurried to return, I could feel the beginnings of the last days of life as I knew it. The ground creaked underfoot, the grumbling and moaning of the shifting land filled my ears with its words of disapproval. Before long, the tremulent earth would show its hand, taking matters into its own discretion. I had missed all of the signs save one, and that would not be enough. Still, I ran, each step more unsteady then the last as the vibrations of the ground heightened in intensity. Would the land itself split open to swallow all that threatened it? Such a massive display of might well beyond my own means demonstrated to me that I was no longer needed. There was nothing that I could do to right the wrong which I had committed against nature. I refused to accept this. My heart still resided in those trees, in those waters, and at the top of that mountain. I needed to be with those animals, to get them to safety. The cycles of nature were broken and they would need guidance to find their way to safety.
As I got closer, I saw those precious creatures. I saw the fear in the wolves’ eyes. My gaze fell upon them, beckoned them to follow. But as I stood waiting, I knew that those animals would come to me no longer. They ran, back to the only place that they had known. Back to the destruction which was fast mounting. No longer could I run, no longer could I even stand. But it did not matter. One of the great oak trees, a being that had lived in this forest longer than even I had, fell only yards from my feet. I watched as other sentinels of the woods toppled, barring my passage. I was forced to stay in my place. To watch and listen. What damage had I done? I forced my eyes shut unable to bear the sight any longer, but my ears did not cease in punishing me. Although the volume of the chaos at hand was rising to its apex, I could make out the screams of pain from the dying animals; the snapping limbs that had struggled so long to reach the sun. And then I heard the lifeblood dripping. Each drop finding its mark upon the soil, returning to nature that which is only borrowed.
I could take the torment no longer. I screamed, heaving myself blindly into the over the trees, into wreckage. With the best of what remained of my strength and grace, I attempted to help and to heal, but the greatest oaks which I had seen spring up from acorns prevented me from going any further then I already had. A sudden and violent jolt of the earth shook me hard onto the ground. Slowly I rose to my feet, stricken with the realization that I had no way back into my home. Lest my own spirit be lost, I began to run from the very place that had given me life. In fear I ran from this place. Nature would not take my aid. I was abandoned because I had failed. Left to die. My eyes did not deserve one last glance. But still, I knew that I must apologize.
I turned around, the remorse welling up into shameful tears which fell upon my cheeks. Through hazy lenses I saw the devastation which was culminating. The strongest and oldest of the trees breaking under the stress, the earth itself cracking under the tremendous pressure of nature’s violence, splintering at seams that rested invisibly for centuries. With great hesitance I guiltily looked up to the sky to see the birds, the only creatures who would be spared this small segment of loss. The robins, flying free only to watch their homes collapse in upon themselves. All I wanted was some small hope, some sign that even though everything had turned out wrong, there was some small bit of a chance that it could all be made right once more.
Instead, what I saw felled me like the willow tree I had seen fall not long before. On my knees my eyes stayed transfixed on the cloud filled sky, but focused on a form that I had never seen before. A flying emerald swept through the sky. It approached with a ponderous gait powered by malicious strokes from mighty wings. I could feel my throat closing up. The debris in the air was settling thickly. Each breath came with more effort then the last. I watched. The gem in the sky came closer and became more distinct. Somewhere in my spirit, I knew what this thing was. I knew that I should run but my legs refused to yield to my heart’s command. I choked on the fetid air as the shape came ever closer and became more distinct. By the time the form tilted to make its decent, I could make out each individual scale on the tip of his snout.
While I should have been completely consumed by fear of this massive abomination to the face of nature, my fear became tempered by a horrifying revelation. Nature had not buried its enemy under its own weight as I would have imagined. Instead, in order to preserve its chastity, nature had deliberately destroyed its most precious possession to keep the claws of this fell beast from exhuming its untarnished essence. The form of evil stared at me. It might have been laughing, but all I could do was inhale the noxious fumes venting from between massive teeth which agitated my already strained lungs. I knew I should have been afraid. I should have cowered and pleaded. I should have submitted, as my traitorous life lacked any worth.
But staring into the beast’s indignant eyes, my wrath erupted. My skin already burned from the caustic gas and now my own spirit burned with a pain that matched. My role was once again clear as crystal. This paradise may have been destroyed because of my treason, but it was this monstrosity that had set everything into motion, the cause for the fourteenth sign, as well as all thirteen which had come and gone unnoticed before it. While my inner being had become desolate with ignominy, this creature stared its haughty smirk, not displeased to see this once pristine land now razed. Even if it meant nothing anymore, I placed all of these feelings into a single glare, one that would at least give the monster a glimpse of the pain I felt.
Of course, the beast had no desire to pay for its crimes, and as I met its gaze and fixed my stare, the massive abomination expelled a consuming cloud of death that only a despicable monster such as this could fill its lungs with. Quickly I threw myself flat to the ground in hopes of avoiding what was certain to come. The thick vapor coated my flesh and my lungs. I wanted to scream, but such a thing was impossible to do. Every inch of my body burned and I thought my eyes would melt out of their sockets, but in only a few moments, the gas began to clear and somehow, the world around me reappeared. I was alive. There was nothing pleasurable about this realization. For a moment, I lied still, hoping that the moisture remaining from the gas would burn me away, but suddenly I remembered what it was that had brought me to this point. My foe still lived and was near. Slowly, I fought through the pain to turn my head and look for the beast, wondering why it had not yet come to finish me.
There above me the emerald abomination stood frozen, jaws agape and eyes transfixed upon me. Scarcely was its figure animate, merely posing in some combination of shock and reflection. No sooner than I could ask the question of what could have brought such a wicked force to a sudden stop that the answer quickly came to me. My glare had stopped the creature, though certainly this condition was temporary. Soon, the malicious entity would recover and finish its despicable agenda. And even though I knew this, there was not a part of me which could be swayed to budge.
Forcing my body into action, I lifted myself off the ground, ready for the conclusion of this showdown. While preparing myself for this end, I noticed something wrong. I was aware of another presence around me. I thought perhaps it was a wounded animal who had gathered the courage to investigate the catastrophe and this new intrusion. For an instant I searched And than I saw this presence. A bear, but everything about it was terribly wrong. The creature had shape, but not form. Its chest moved, but it did not breathe. Its legs marched, but failed to touch the ground. But worst of all, I could not feel its essence. Even though I knew exactly what this creature was, I had no idea what it had become. And more frighteningly, other creatures were following it in a haunting procession toward the inanimate fell beast. A deer, a wolf, a rabbit and a weasel all followed. Even a blue-jay that used to sing as it perched in the palm of my hand flew to keep pace. And they were all wrong, all empty visages of what they once were. Nature no longer blessed these spirits flung out of the cycle of life.
Upon reaching their loathsome prey, the formless creatures tried their best to dismantle its form. Jaws, claws, hooves, and even the beak of the blue-jay which functioned best in serving worms to its young, they all made futile attempts to rend the beast. But none of them were able to dent the armored plates it carried. With great hubris they fought on, seeming confused, but never relenting. I did not know what to think. I wanted to be scared that when the beast awoke, it would eviscerate all of those poor animals just trying to defend their home. Although I knew that they were no longer living, I could not deny them the chance. I felt complete pity for these creatures who deserved none of this torment which had befallen them.
Now standing and waiting, the condemnable beast became mobile again. Yet rather than slaughter all of the creatures which surrounded it, the colossal fiend’s merely slumped to the ground in a massive heap. It happened abruptly with no drama. The earth did not split to claim its prey. Lightening did not strike to fry and mutilate the scales and all that resided within. The creature simply fell and did not move again.
III
The unliving animals stood silently circling the fallen body of the beast. They saw their quarry fallen before them. Slain by their blows, even though there were no familiar and visible marks of the hunt. They stared down at their kill for some time before the inevitable would happen: slowly, the unloving animals turned to face me. They seemed worried, but happy to see my face. I shuddered, unable to feel their happiness as I once had. This was a truly horrid feeling. They began to move toward me, seeking comfort from their protector spirit. I knew that I had no consolation to offer these unliving souls. Despite this, I did not back away from my animals. They came straight to me without reservation. My heart could only pound, the kind of fear reserved for mortals. But they did not notice. I stood frozen in place as the bear lifted his massive mitt and placed it gently upon my right cheek.
At his gentle touch I felt no warmth, no contact, only a sudden chill, the kind of cold that must exist only in the furthest reaches of the world. The cold did not meet my flesh, which still burned from the acrid gas. It seeped within. The very substance of my spirit was being ripped, as if sliced by a dagger made of ice sharpened so perfectly that it meets no resistance at all. Perhaps my spirit was just fragile. Perhaps I had no resistance to give. But upon feeling that pain, all I could do was fall back to my knees and whimper, wishing this to end.
The other creatures saw my distress and empathetically tried to lift my spirit with nudges from their beaks or muzzles, but each attempt at a touch only renewed the dread sensation. I writhed. The unliving creatures balked. Their forms slowly began to fade. I stared up from my fetal stance as they faded into nothingness. My spirit was shattered, my body was exhausted, and my mind was unable to comprehend anything. I just lied there for days, perhaps weeks, beside the body of the fell beast. From my position beside it, I could feel that the beast was still alive, comatose. Occasionally, it would spew forth a growl filled with bitter haze. Saliva dripped from its mouth. It was dying of thirst and hunger, lost in a land of its own creation. Eventually I stopped looking and listening to it, and by the time I was able to stand again, the monster had expired.
IIII
For the first time is my existence, I was without a home. By my natural role, I was a protector and I no longer had anything to protect. Yet, I was still alive. There was no denying this. I continued to be part of the world, even though I had no role within it. My connection to nature was wholly severed. I was weaker than I had ever been before, denied the gifts of strength and grace which it had once bestowed upon me. I could do no more to serve nature, but I needed a place to go.
The only place that I could think to go was to the cities of the humanoids, to return to watching them. Soon enough, I even entered those cities and was taken in as a lost cousin, horribly wounded in some unknown battle. I tried my best to become friendly with the people I was with. My magic was able to assist them when they needed it. Still, there was never any connection between myself and any individual. While they believed me to be one of their own, in truth I was a very alien being. Even though I spent much time studying people, I could not fully relate to them. I could not bond with them as I had once bonded so easily with the animals.
In order to avoid becoming suspicious, I traveled from town to town, never taking up permanent residence. As I saw the great variety of humanoids, I became appalled to see many of the things they did to one another. Yes, often times the animals would kill, but they did it to feed themselves, as part of nature’s perfect cycle, knowing that if they did not, they would ultimately perish. But the humanoids killed with malice. They hurt each other for sheer pleasure, they stole for personal comfort, and they betrayed one another for their own gains. I was shocked by these actions. There were no excuses. It seemed that each humanoid had a piece of the fell beat’s evil spirit lurking somewhere within, though some worked harder then others in their struggle to suppress it. Perhaps nature was correct in shunning these beings who were capable of performing grievous harm. But with thoughts of the animals of my home who had come to me once more in their unlife, I embraced the humanoid races. They were willing to aid me in my time of need. True, they had faults, but was I perfect? Rather than ignore or condemn them, I felt compelled to help them. I took it as my duty to protect them from that fell beast lurking inside. Humanoids were now my charge and rather than refer to them abstractly, I simply named them ‘Kindred.’
I now realize that I was never shattered, nor was I broken beyond repair. The scars that show so prominently upon my flesh remain. I wholly accept them. They are the signs of forgiveness from those I failed. My disconnection from nature is marked by these imperfections, because to pretend to be perfect would be a lie. I wear the green scales of the fell beast in mockery of its perverted ideals. Those, the very vices which I seek to purify in my kindred, making known the necessity for each to recognize and abolish the evil within. No one can conquer someone else’s demons in their stead, but without a guiding hand, they have little hope of ever doing so on their own. My Kindred gave me the strength and it is my greatest pleasure to lend my spirit in return.
I am home.
Physical Description of the nymph Orylea
Long tresses of black hair froth forth from beneath the emerald green scales of a dragon skull helmet, each lock falling limply and ending in ringlets at the small of her back. The flat coloration of the hair seems to absorb light completely, giving it a dull appearance. Hazel orbs hide within the shadows of this grand helm, surveying the world rather than judging it. A matching suit of field plate fashioned from the same brilliant green scales seems like it would be unwieldy as it wraps around a thin female form that comes short of five and a half feet in height. Indeed, these green scales cover every inch of her body, protecting and concealing what appears to be a gentle figure, perhaps that of an elven maid. Strapped to her back is a shield that shares the same set of scales upon its front. The only weapon that the figure appears to carry is a single hunting knife on a leather belt around her waist.
Should her gauntleted hands decide to remove the helm, a pallid face meets its beholder with a blank-rimmed stare. Adorning her right cheek is a large mark, appearing to be a bruise of some nature. To an observant eye it appears to be in the shape of a cruel wound from the claw of a large animal. Other such scars cover her skin, but are less apparent at an initial glance. A close inspection of these blemishes reveals that they are actually scars, deep, old, and chill to the touch. The structure of her face is very well balanced and perfect in its symmetry, giving the eerie impression that this woman once possessed an unearthly beauty now lost on the field of some battle long resolved but never forgotten.
Now that you know that your game can never be complete without her, here are some suggestions on how to integrate Orylea.
Currently, Orylea spends most of her time in various towns and cities, often performing minor miracles and helping to bring criminals to justice. Tracking and healing are her specialties, but when circumstances are dire, she tries just about anything to help. If ruffians should enter a town and harass the local citizens, Orylea will be there to help track them down so they may receive their punishment. She does not keep friends, but her distinct appearance makes her memorable to most everyone who encounters her. Few can forget the thin figure encased in dragonscale armor and the few people who see her face will never forget the haunting scars. As such, a simple Gather Information (DC 10) check will reveal that Orylea has been through a particular town recently, along with a good deed or two that she has done for the people.
As a short or long term character, Orylea can serve as a plot hook, as an ally, a source of information or as an interesting side character for the players to meet.
Plot hook: There are a number of ways Orylea can draw the characters into an adventure. She can ask them to help her track down an evildoer. Her good intentions can be taken advantage of and she may be in need of rescuing from a society that does not accept her help, possibly orcs. She may be under assault from a criminal group who want her out of the way as she is too steadfast to be bribed. The players can use her story to lead them to the long forgotten green dragon lair or the ruins of the unknown source of nature’s magic, which may or may not still exist. Orylea may be wounded from an assault by a savage monster and be in need of aid.
Ally: The PCs may lack a character with the Track feat and need someone to help them find a villain. Orylea and the PCs may be trying to find the same fugitive and join forces. Someone in the party may be in need of healing which the party is unable to provide. During her travels, Orylea may come upon their camp and help the wounded, potentially leading the party into another adventure. The party may temporarily accompany Orylea as they attempt to take down a criminal organization
Source of Information: Orylea has a number of useful skills that the characters may need, and she is willing to share if they have good intentions, including Knowledge (Local) +7, Knowledge (Nature) +7 and Survival +9. Orylea may also have situational information based on her travels, such as helpful facts about different cities and towns, wanted criminals and where to go for common needs, supplies and knowledge she is unable to provide.
Interesting Side Character: Orylea can be motivational. When the characters are at a low, from a defeat or a loss, Orylea and her tragic story can show how hope springs eternal. Orylea can be a very interesting volunteer town guard in a downtrodden location. She may serve as the town healer in a small village. In many cases, she can be an enigmatic local celebrity that people want to learn more about. Orylea can be an acquaintance to a group of good adventurers, lending them aid and if necessary asking it in return, forming a beneficial give and take relationship with people whose ideals are similar. She can be an emissary of peace between cities in strife, attempting to settle differences and calm heated tempers. All in all, she can fill any position that an outsider without a home seeking to help her Kindred might fall into.
Orylea's Personality:
Orylea is a very emotional being. She becomes very excited and exudes energy when she is actively tracking a criminal or carrying out a mission of mercy. When things don’t turn out well, the tears tend to flow, particularly when people are hurt or killed at the hands of others. When something she has done makes another happy, she becomes giddy, sharing their joy. When things are calm and quiet, Orylea worries about what could go wrong. Through all of these varied states of being, one thing is constant: Orylea takes her role seriously and does not find humor in the distress and hardships of others.
Current events are her preferred topic of conversation, the kind of on the go chatter that adventures tend to favor. While not unwilling to discuss her past, she sees no reason to reveal anything unless she is asked and the questioner has earned her trust. Even then she is hesitant, and would rather talk about the history of others and their accomplishments. This is not because she is protective of the story of her past, as it happened so long ago, but the emotions well up when she speaks of the animals and the dread monster which took them from her. Her tone is melancholy as she tells her tale and she does not like the sad emotions it makes her feel. However, if she reaches the finish, it always ends in a flurry of hopeful emotions as she is able to revitalize her wounded spirit.
Orylea in Combat:
Orylea detests violent combat, but she accepts that sometimes it is necessary to thwart the fell beast in others. When she is on her own, Orylea is never actively seeking out a fight. If she senses that she is about to fall prey to some situation which would be violent or deadly, Orylea will use her dimension door spell like ability to get as far from the threat as possible and hopefully avoiding it altogether. If she is ambushed for whatever reason, she will use her blinding beauty in combination with her ability to use her spells to summon animals which will help to fight for her and keep the attackers at bay. In a group, she will use her spells to aid the party as best she can. Healing and buffing spells to ensure survivability, or calling upon nature’s allies to help wherever needed. Her Augment Summoning feat helps to pump up her summoned creatures, giving them the extra strength and energy that they will need to fight.
Advancement Note:
Orylea can be easily advanced by adding druid levels. Any stat increases should be put into wisdom. Orylea will not take an animal companion.
The Orylea Q&A Session
What was that green beast that she kept referring to?
A green dragon. She had never encountered one before.
So how did that dragon get whooped?
First, the dragon and the nymph rolled the same initiatives. Than, the dragon rolled a 1 on its fort save against stunning glance, locking it up for 8 rounds (very unlucky, not to mention all the 1s he rolled on his breath weapon damage). Last, ghosts beat his bad touch AC and charisma drained him into a coma, after which he eventually starved and dehydrated. Remember, drain doesn’t heal.
What’s the deal with Orylea’s charisma score?
It used to be 21, but after all the ghost charisma drain, it was lowered to 10. Drain is permanent. For flavor reasons, this is why she has all the weird scars. If someone has knowledge (nature), they might recognize the mark on Orylea’s face as a brown bear paw (DC 16).
Well, there is this spell called restoration. Why doesn’t someone just cast it on her?
That would work, there is no denying it, but Orylea would never allow it willingly. She needs those scars as a reminder of those she had abandoned and those that had forgiven her. The original charisma is listed in case some sort of forced restoration were to occur. Along with the mechanical adjustments (unearthly grace, DCs, Wild Empathy), Orylea’s appearance would be restored, removing the scars and giving her entire body a supernatural shine.
What happened to the ruined utopia?
Nymphs live a LONG time, so if you do not want this setting anywhere near your game, you can just say it is long buried and forgotten. The magic source that was once there was destroyed by nature itself. You can of course use the idea if you’d like, but it is easily omitted.
You omitted your character’s CR. Why?
Mainly, because the CR of this character may be in dispute. Officially, a Nymph is CR 7, but without a charisma bonus, Orylea is much easier to beat. She does have elite array stats, some gear and level 7 druid casting, so she still has some things going her way. I would rule Orylea a CR 6 conservatively, but you may be hesitant to have a monster with casting level higher than CR which is understandable. However, this will probably be a pushover encounter at CR 7, and perhaps even at CR 6. Most NPC encounters are pushovers anyway, the Nymph is a monster so it is worth noting. In order to keep the Nymph at CR 7, you may want to add more gear. I suggest a cloak of resistance +2 to make her more survivable. All of this may be moot, because she really isn’t cruising for a bruising.
There isn’t any information about where Orylea lives or who she knows. Does she live in a vacuum or something?
My job is to make the NPC. Your job is to fit her into your world. Like most adventurers, she doesn’t have a home in the material sense, so she can be wherever you need her. Rather than give unneeded details, you can easily plug in the cities and personalities of your setting when deciding where to find her and who she knows. While she has been a traveler in the past, if you have a village or city in need of her, she can easily plant her roots for a longer stay.
Abilities: Str 27 +8 Dex 10 +0 Con 21 +5 Int 20 +5 Wis 21 +5 Cha 20 +5
“Crunch Stats” Hit Dice: 22d12+110 (+ 1d4+5 for 1 level in Sorcerer) HP: 276 (note, I have the rolls for all 22 d12’s, if anyone wants to see them!) AC: 29 (-2 size, +21 natural), Touch 8, Flat 29 Initiative: +0 Base Attack: +22 Grapples +38 Speed: 40ft, fly 150f (poor) Saves: Fortitude +18, Reflex +13, Will +20
“Non-Crunch, but still essential, Stats” Age: Adult Size: Huge Attack: +28 Breath Weapon (DC): 12d8 cold (26) Frightful Presence (DC): 180ft radius, HD21 or fewer, (will 26 negates)) Caster Level: 8th (7 for Dragon age, +1 for Sorcerer level) Space: 15ft Reach: 10ft (15ft with bite) DR: 5/Magic CR: 16
Attacks (of all shapes and sizes!) • +28 (2d8+8, bite) • Full Attack +28 melee (2d8+8, bite), +23 melee (2d6+4, 2 claws), +23 melee (1d8+4, 2 wings), +23 melee (2d6+12 tail) • Breath Weapon (Su): 50ft cone, 12d8 cold, Reflex DC 26 (half) • Breath Weapon (Su): 50ft cone, paralysis 1d6+6 rounds, Fortitude DC 26 negates • Snatch (Ex): Against Small or smaller creatures, bite for 2d8+8/ round or claw for 2d6+4/ round. *Both Breath Weapons are the “same” weapon. She only gets one use at a time, and if she uses 1, she still has to wait until it recharges before she can use the other. (different types of the SAME breath weapon, instead of 2 different breath weapons)
Skills and Their Modifiers • Bluff +15 • Concentration +21 • Diplomacy +19 • Disguise +27 • Escape Artist +18 • Heal +16 • Hide -8 • Intimidate +7 • Jump +24 • Knowledge (arcane) +19 • Knowledge (local) +19 • Knowledge (nature) +19 • Knowledge (religion) +19 • Listen +27 • Move Silently +3 • Search +27 • Sense Motive +27 • Spellcraft +18 • Spot +16 Feats • Power Attack • Flyby Attack • Hover • Snatch • Wingover • Improved Initiative • Run Special Abilities: Alternate Form, Immunity to acid and cold, cloudwalking, vulnerable to fire, feather fall, DR 5/Magic, Fog Cloud Alternate Form (Su): A Silver Dragon can assume any animal or humanoid form of medium size or smaller as a standard action three times per day. This ability functions as a polymorph spell cast on itself at its caster level, except that the dragon does not regain hit points for changing form and can only assume the form of an animal or humanoid. The dragon can remain in its animal or humanoid form until it chooses to assume a new one or return to its natural form. Cloudwalking (Su): A silver dragon can tread on clouds or fog as though on solid ground. The ability functions continuously but can be negated or resumed at will. Spell-Like Abilities: 3/Day—Fog Cloud 2/Day—Feather Fall
New spell: Escape Limits Enchantment Level: Sor/Wiz 4 Components: V Casting Time: 2 Rounds (special, this spell can be cast in 1 full round if the caster is willing to cut the duration in half) Range: Personal or touch Target: Creature touched Duration: 10 minutes/level Saving Throw: Will negates (harmless) Spell Resistance: Yes
Escape Limits allows the target to overcome one physical restriction they have. (restrictions are classified as something the target cannot do that a normal member of that target’s race/species should be able to do, such as a human being able to walk, an orc being able to see, or a bird being able to fly) The restriction the target escapes is decided by the caster, at the time of casting. During the spell duration, the target functions as if the physical restriction was nonexistent. If the spell ends mid-action (such as while a legless man is walking, or a wingless bird is flying), the target is dazed for 1d4+1 rounds/ +1 per caster level. If the caster casts this spell on themselves, they are dazed for an additional 1d4+1 rounds. If the caster casts this spell on another target, they are dazed for 1d4+1 rounds at the time of casting.
Sir Gallant the Brave Cat Familiar Tiny Animal Hit Dice: ½ d8 (2 hp) Initiative: +2 Speed: 30ft (6 squares) Armor Class: 15 (+2 size, +2 dex, +1 natural armor), touch 14, flat-footed 13\Base Attack/Grapple: +0/-12 Attack: Claw +4 melee (1d2-4) Full Attack: 2 claws +4 melee (1d2-4) and bite -1 melee (1d3-4) Space/Reach: 2-1/2ft. / 0ft. Special Attacks:- Special Qualities: Low-light vision, scent, improved evasion, share spells, empathetic link Saves: Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +1 Abilities: Str 3, Dex 15, Con 10, Int 6, Wis 12, Cha 7 Skills: Balance +10, Climb +6, Hide +14, Jump +10, Listen +5, Move Silently +6, Spot +5 Feats: Weapon Finesse, Alertness
Lizzathadorias grew up on her own, never knowing her parents. Plain and simple. She lived her life alone, never seeing another creature larger than a deer until she found herself sharing her homeland with a red dragon, a disicple of Ashardalon. The fought over the forrests of their territory, and Liz had the upper hand until the red dragon was joined by a second disicple of Ashardalon. Liz took a deadly blow to her left side, and crashed into the forest below them. Now, Liz was all but dead when a kinldy cleric she later knew only as Yosef found her. She was about his size at that age, and he cared for her in his cottage, and nursed her back to health. Unfortuneately, she lost the ability of her left wing.
It was then that she assumed the human personna as Lady Elizabeth. After a few years, Yosef and Elizabeth moved out of his cottage, and into a small town. She kept her true identity secret, living as an apprentice to Kurchez, the local sorcerer. It is there that she lives to this day. She gets by on a day-to-day basis pretending to have little magical powers, while she truly has the power of an adult dragon. On the hopes that she would one day get to fly again, she created her own spell that allowed her to overcome her weakness. She currently lives in a small town called "Vale", where she studies under Kurchez, hoping one day to be able to soar the skies as she did in her youth.
The ancient manor house is surrounded by a high wall overgrown with ivy. ]The wall seems to go on for miles; it is likely that the estate covers several hundred acres.
The locals will tell you that the place was once home to a powerful merchant, who filled his sprawling gardens with exotic species from all over the world. If you ask too many questions, though, they will tell you the story of young Garret Crackenhorn, who went over the wall to cut some flowers for his sweetheart. That was twenty years ago; he hasn't been heard from since. The mansion and its vast estate has been empty for fifteen of those years, but the garden still grows...
If you ask the crew of laborers who are renovating the mansion for the lord mayor, they'll tell you about the paranoid hermit they found prowling the grounds. They were sure the lord mayor would have him locked up, but after talking to the crazy coot for a half hour, the lord hired him on as the new gardener!
The lord mayor will tell you that the garden of his newly-acquired mansion is indeed home to some strange specimens; the first two crews of surveyors were eaten by the lilies! But the mayor believes that the hermit may be the solution to that problem. He is the Garret Crackenhorn of the local legend, and he has survived these past twenty years inside the compound, living off the land and defending himself with the pair of hedge-clippers he took for snipping flowers. The madman has even created a magical spell that helps him kill the things more effectively!
Ever since being hired on, though, Garret has spent an alarming amount of time reading up on gnomes. The mayor is worried that the man might have some funny ideas about his wife's treasured garden gnome collection. They came from a slain dragon's treasure trove and are perfectly life-like in every way. No mage has ever been able to detect a single glimmer of magic about them, though, so the lord mayor remains convinced that they can not be more than mere carvings. He just hopes that Garret will finish off the plant problem before his obsession turns into a crusade against the statuary.
If you talk to Garret, he'll tell you a rambling tale that spans twenty years of isolation and his slow slip into madness. He'll tell you of his long arguments with the apple tree that had tempted him into this chlorophylic hell, of the wall that was higher on the inside than it was on the outside, and of the viper that eventually slithered out of it and guided him through the garden's dangers during his return to the manor house. (Though he pats his shoulder and appears to pantomime handling a snake during this part of the tale, there is no viper to be seen.)
By this point, you will notcie the man's smell. He hasn't washed in two decades, and he isn't about to start just because he got a job working for some high-brow fuddy-duddy. Lice crawl in his hair, and grungy moss grows behind his ears. The only thing about him that isn't disgusting is the magic armor and weapon that the lord mayor recently commissioned specifically for his war against the plants. The trowel, especially, has been sharpened to a dagger-like edge, ready and willing to slash at the roots of any plant unlucky enough to cross its wielder.
If you can stand to stay around him, he'll continue to tell tales about his time in the garden. He grumbles about the vines with hands, whines about the talking trees, whispers of the carnivorous flowers, and raves about the exploding cacti that he has survived. If he gets worked up enough, he might even tell you of the treasure trove he found in the merchant's deepest glade, guarded by shuffling heaps of rotting vegetation. He is insistent on the fact that the garden gnomes are watching him; and they've gotten to Applescales!
The tales he tells may or may not be true; he could be sharing information useful for surviving the garden's horrors, or he could just be hallucinating. The only way to tell is to venture into the garden yourself...
Garret Crackenhorn a.k.a. "Garret the Gardener," a.k.a. "Crazy Crackenhorn" Male Human Ranger 5 TN Medium Humanoid Init +2; Senses Listen +11, Spot +11 Language Common
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AC 15, touch 12, flat-footed 13 HP: 32 (5 HD) Fort +6, Refl +6, Will +2
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Speed 30 ft. (6 squares) Melee+1 hedge-clippers +9 (1d6+5/19-20) or Melee Masterwork battleaxe +6 (1d8+2/x3) and Trowel +5 (1d4+1/19-20) Base Atk +5; Grp +7
Spells Per Day 1 1st -- weedkiller
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Abilities Str 15 Dex 14 Con 14 Int 11 Wis 13 Cha 6
Posessions+1 hedge-clippers, masterwork battleaxe, trowel, +1 leather armor, whetstone, various gardening implements, a pouch of salt, 10 gp
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Animal Companion: Applescales (Medium Viper): Garret's animal companion was an unusually potent tree-dwelling viper, one of the merchant's many exotic acquisitions. It died years ago, but in his madness, Garret never noticed. He still believes in its existence, always riding on his shoulder and whispering secrets in his ear. He has recently had arguments with the snake, because he believes it is telling him to submit to the will of the garden gnomes. Were Applescales still alive, the creature's stats would look like this:
Same as a standard Medium Viper (MM, pg. 280), except:
Melee Bite +1 (1d4-1 plus poison) Special Attacks Poison (DC 13, 1d6 Con initial and secondary damage) Feats Ability Focus (+2 to Poison DC)
New Weapon: Hedge-clippers: Though commonly used as a mere gardening implement, hedge-clippers can be crafted for use in battle as well. A set of hedge-clippers requires both hands to use, but delivers a great amount of force to the intended target. Because of this, a character using hedge-clippers can add twice their Strength bonus to the damage roll. Also, hedge-clippers can be used to grab an opponent's weapon, granting a +2 bonus on opposed attack rolls made to disarm an enemy (including the opposed attack roll to avoid beng disarmed if such an attempt fails).
New Spell: WEEDKILLER Transmutation Level: Rgr 1 Components: V, M Casting Time: 1 standard action Range: Touch Target: Weapon touched Duration: 1 min./level Saving Throw: None Spell Resistance: No This transmutation makes a weapon capable of focusing a ranger's training against the most innocuous of foes: those of the plant kingdom. For the duration of the spell, anyone with Favored Enemy: Plants who wields the weapon may deal Favored Enemy damage to any plant creature which the weapon strikes. Material Component: A dash of salt applied to the weapon's blade or head.
Design Notes: I used the standard Elite Array to generate Garret's stats, but removed two points from Charisma and added one each to Intelligence and Wisdom. At fourth level, Garret raised his Constitution by one.
Jayna Strang CN Human Female Illusionist 3/Rogue 11 HD: 3d4+11d6 (44 hp) Init: +9 (+5 Dex, +4 Improved Initiative) Speed: 30 feet AC: 1 (+5 dex, +1 studded leather of shadow and silent moves,) 15 touch, flat-footed 13 BAB: +9/+4 Grapple: +9 Attack: +15 (+1 spell-storing rapier) 1d6+1 15-20x2 or +15 mwk hand crossbow (1d4) 10-20x2 Full Attack: +15/+10 (+1 spell-storing rapier) 1d6+1 15-20x2 or +15 (ranged) mwk hand crossbow (1d4) 19-20x2 Space/Reach: 5 ft./ 5 ft. Special Attacks: - Special Abilities: SA +6d6, Evasion, Improved Evasion, Improved Uncanny Dodge, Trapsense +3 Saves: Fort. +4, Ref. +13, Will +7 Abilities: Str:10, Dex: 20, Con: 10, Int: 16, Wis: 12, Cha: 10 Feats/Skills: Improved Initiative, Leadership, Improved Critical (rapier), Run, Weapon Finesse, Spell Focus (Illusion), Scribe Scroll Balance +17, Bluff +18, Diplomacy +20, Disable Device +17, Disguise Self +18, Forgery +7, Gather Information +16, Hide +24, Jump +2, Knowledge (arcana) +7, Move Silently +24, Open Lock +14, Search + 8, Sense Motive +20, Sleight of Hand +17, Spellcraft +4, Spot +1, Tumble +19, Use Rope +5
Languages: Common, Draconic, Gnome, Elven
Spells: 5/6/3
Spells Prepared: On a typical day, all of Jayna’s slots are devoted to illusions and divinations. Take your pick. If going out on a job, she’s certain to prepare a Web and Grease spell.
Spellbook: Take your pick, save Evocation and Necromancy. She’s a 14th level character, and as such has access to any 1st and 2nd level spells she wants.
Specialization: As an illusionist, Jayna gains a +2 to any Spellcraft checks to learn a new spell from the school of illusion, and she is allowed to prepare a bonus spell at each level from her chosen school.Jayna’s prohibited schools are Necromancy and Evocation.
Spell Focus (Illusion): This feat permits Jayna to increase the save DC’s for all of her illusion spells by an additional +1.
Possessions: +1 Shadow Leather of Silent Moves (+3 AC, +5 to Hide and Move Silently) 9,660gp +1 Spell-storing rapier (+1 attack/damage, spell-storing ability) Glove of Storing (10,000gp) Ring of Mind Shielding (8,000gp) Ring of Wizardry I (see DM notes) (20,000gp) Hat of Disguise (1,800gp) Mwk handcrossbow (400gp) Mwk thieves tools (100gp) Bolts (10) Bag of Holding(Type I) Potion of Cat’s Grace (300gp) Potion of Haste (750gp) 2000gp
Adventuring Gear: Jayna has reasonable access to most mundane adventuring gear. It is up to the DM to equip with anything she might need when encountering the PC’s, such as rope, a climbing kit, torches, etc.
Character History
Gavin and Isanne Strang were doing well for themselves. Running one of the hottest fences and information brokering services on the Dragon Coast, they were rising fast in the underworld of the city of Warren. It was simple, really. After winning the confidence of the city watch by uncovering a smuggling ring outside of the city’s walls, they had so much goodwill banked with city officials that a blind eye was turned to their buying and selling of secrets. The money was rolling in, and life was looking good. A beautiful home, good offices in the Trade district, and expensive art were all purchased for the exchange of knowledge regarding a merchant’s torrid affair, a soldier’s illegal side business, and a high-ranking mage’s illicit drug habit. However, the couple soon wanted what money couldn’t buy: a child.
After months of effort, a child was finally conceived. Isanne was pregnant with a little girl. Unbeknownst to the happy couple, the midwife who gave them the news was a rampant alcoholic, and the news quickly spread around town to the Strang’s competitors. Fearful for their daughter’s safety, the couple fled Warren for the countryside, and several months later Isanne gave birth to baby Jayna.
After several years in relative isolation, the Strangs relocated to the thriving metropolis of Antioch, where Gavin and Isanne turned their hands to a more respectable living. Using gold from their previous life, the two set up shop as sellers of rare literature and fine spirits. Naturally, this sort of merchandise attracted the finer folk of Antioch. If they got a little tipsy and started letting sensitive information flow, so much the better, thought the two.
As a result of their lucrative trade, the Strangs were quite well to do. Jayna’s childhood left her lacking for nothing. Her parents schooled her at home, and as such she had an inordinate amount of free time to play and develop her interests. She soon became the fastest child in the neighborhood, winning every race with ease. Gymnastics were second nature to her, and she whiled away the evenings reading the classics and sneaking around in the shadows with her playmates, playing games of stealth and speed. Indeed, life was good.
At the age of eleven, the Strangs received a missive from a distant cousin. He was an instructor at an arcane school several hundred miles away, in the city of Reach. He wondered if Gavin and Isanne would be interested in giving their daughter a fundamental education in magic. When Jayna’s parents put the option before her, she jumped on it. She had always been fascinated by gnome street performers, who could conjure lights out of nowhere, amplify their voices threefold, and make copies of themselves dance in the streets. As a result, her trunk was packed, her boots tied tight, and her parents kissed her goodbye and sent her to the Arcane Collegiate in distant Reach.
Arcane Collegiate was everything the young girl could dream of, and so much more. The instructors were all mages of no small power, and the students were largely ready and willing to learn. Due to the nature of the school, the administration required that each student pick a specific school of magic to specialize in, in order to fully reach their ultimate potential. The choice was easy for Jayna. The power of misdirection and suggestion was well-understood by her, and she knew from her childhood games that you couldn’t hit what you couldn’t see. Illusion was the only choice for her. During the early days of her studies, she learned to fear necromantic magic, and flashy evocations went against everything she stood for. Why advertise your presence with a flash of light and bolts of electricity? Better to fade into the shadows, and let your enemies think they knew exactly where you were. She soon fell to her studies with a will.
Over the next few years, things went exceptionally well for Jayna. She excelled in her studies, and her illusion spells were especially strong. Instructors praised her, and she soon won a large group of friends, becoming somewhat of a leader among the student body. Even with all of this attention however, she never forgot her roots. Every day she made time for physical activity, and often-times persuaded her best friend Triel, an energetic gnomish girl who was studying transmutation, to sneak away from the school grounds at night, for an adventure into town. After instructors caught them several times for failing to be present during bed checks, they began using their magic to fool anyone making all but the most intense checks of their rooms. Soon, Jayna and her friends had the run of the school and surrounding streets. Her future seemed bright indeed.
Then tragedy struck.
Gavin and Isanne has managed to remain undetected in Antioch for the better part of two decades, but their luck failed them eventually. Several people who had been burnt by their trading of secrets managed to divine their location, and paid a midnight visit to the couple. After a brief and violent altercation, the two lay dead in their home, whilst their store was consumed in flames. The general populace of the city assumed that they had fallen victim to roving criminals, and nothing more. When word of her parents’ murder reached Jayna, the girl was beside herself in grief. She remained in isolation for weeks on end, consumed with sadness and wracked with feelings of guilt. Convinced that had she been there, perhaps something could have been done to thwart her parents’ murderers, or at the very least, determine their identity. She vowed that one day, she would find out who had committed such a heinous act, and avenge her parents.
That day approached far sooner than she thought it would.
In the eighth year of her studies, Jayna was nearing the end of her time at Arcane Collegiate, and was viewing graduation with mixed emotions. With her parents dead and their home looted, there was no money awaiting her after she got out, let alone a family to return to. There was nothing for the girl in Antioch, and she knew it. Murdoch Strang, her distant cousin who had offered her a place at school in the beginning, was well aware of this. Murdoch secretly approached Triel, and outlined Jayna’s dilemma to her. Immediately, the gnome asked her friend to travel home with her, and take up residency in her hometown. Jayna happily accepted, glad to have somewhere that would distract her from her troubles. One the eve of graduation, the two snuck away from the school grounds for a final night of mischief and revelry.
In the early hours of the morning, Jayna and Triel finished their rounds at the taverns and headed for the school grounds, confident that they could give the slip to any of the teachers that stood sentry at night along the walls. As they approached the academy however, they realized evading the sentries would be the least of their worries. Flames licked at many of the windows, and the sounds of battle were plainly audible, even from the street.
As the two slipped over the wall, the carnage became all too evident. Jayna could see a large number of students sprawled across the lawns, their bodies smoking, wands and scrolls strewn about them. A small force of the school’s instructors were backed into a corner, feverishly exchanging bolts of lightning and fire with the assailants. On closer examination, it was clear that the attackers were an organized force. All of them, mages and warriors alike were clad in a tabard that had the image of a rampant lion limned in flames. At their fore was a tall man, wielding a staff in one hand and a mace in the other. Students and instructors alike aimed for him, but to no avail. Their spells were absorbed in a crackle of azure energy, projectiles bounced from his armor, and he continued to carve a swath through the desperate defenders.
Triel and Jayna knew they had to do something, or all would be lost. Calling on their fledgling abilities, the two summoned a horde of insects, magic projectiles, and numerous illusory figures in the midst of the attackers. Confusion was sowed, and their ranks parted enough to let the two join their comrades. Just as they reached the instructors however, the tall man with the staff spoke a word of power, and Triel crumpled in a heap, her eyes and nose hemorrhaging blood. Just like that, the Strang girl had lost another loved one.
She turned to face the tall man, and when she did his eyes lit up in recognition. His lips curled in derision, and he spat “There’s that little Strang *****! I want her to suffer more than her parents did!” Suddenly, Jayna was engulfed in a pillar of arcane fire, and she collapsed. Her entire body coursed with pain, her eyes and skin burning hotter than the Nine Hells. Barely conscious, she was aware of several students grabbing her tunic and cloak, dragging her out of harm’s way. Through her clouded vision, she saw the instructors close ranks, determined to fight a desperate holding action against the invaders, no matter what the cost. Then everything faded to black…….
……..Jayna regained consciousness sometime later. She looked around, slowly realizing that she lay in the school’s ossuary, where the greatest masters and students were interred for all time. Her robes were scorched in numerous places, and her entire body ached with fatigue. Much to her surprise, a roll of parchment had been placed in her hand, encircled by a ring. Unrolling it, the girl realized it was in her uncle’s handwriting.
Dearest Jayna, I hope that you still live to read this. After you were injured, I had several of the students place you in the ossuary, which you know is the most secret location in the entire school. It may come as a shock to you, but the sole reason that we were attacked was you. That man that cast a spell on you, the man that knew your name, is the man that killed your parents. His name is Auric Dejarin, and long ago your parents sold him out to the authorities for his crimes. He swore to erase the entire Strang family, and is dead set on making good of that promise.
Listen to me dear. He is very dangerous, and I have placed you here because I fear for your safety. By the time you awake, the battle will be long over, and everyone either dead or gone. I have gated the surviving students out, and myself and the other instructors will destroy as many as possible, and then attempt escape from this place.
I want you to hide, Jayna. Go to ground, avoid notice. Dejarin will hunt for you. Find me when you can, but until then exercise caution. You were always a clever, resourceful girl, and I’ve no doubt that you will continue in that vein. You will avenge your parents, I have no doubt. But I urge you to wait until you are powerful enough.
To that end, I have given you my ring. I know you are but a fledgling mage, and this ring will enhance the number of spells you can cast. Since you’ve no way to further your arcane learning, rely on the spells you do have to supplement your natural skills. This ring will let you cast many more of the most basic spells. Remember girl, quantity is sometimes the only substitute for quality. Play it safe, and may the gods be with you. Find me, if I still live.
-Always,
-Uncle Murdoch. After reading the note, Jayna stumbled from the ossuary. It was early morning, and the sun had just risen. True to Murdoch’s word, the entire academy was deserted, save for the smoking corpses of her instructors and fellow students. As Jayna passed a pool of water, she got the greatest shock of her life. Her eyes were molten pools of fire, and mysterious runes had been etched into her skin. Obviously, Auric Dejarin’s spells had scarred her instead of killing her.
After scrounging around the academy for anything useful to her, Jayna managed to unearth a circlet that would let her alter her appearance, thus hiding her disfigurements, along with numerous other trinkets that would aid her in her exile. After the sun set, she slipped out of the wrecked walls of the academy, and far away from Reach.
The following two years were a blur. Jayna traveled far and wide, spending time with a circus, an adventuring group, a thieves guild, and an arms academy. Every engagement developed her skills in various ways. She learned how to tumble like an acrobat, circumvent dangerous traps, forge documents, and fence like a master warrior.
At the end of her self-imposed exile, Jayna returned to Antioch, the city of her birth. There, she used the funds she had gathered during her adventures to purchase a small tinkering shop, to serve as a front for true goal: to find out everything about Auric Dejarin and kill him. Though she has no particular talent for repairing broken objects, Jayna maintains the façade of tinker by using her magic to repair broken objects, and craft simple tools to sell. All the while, she keeps her ears open for information, and has become unwittingly become much like her deceased parents: The best information broker in the city.
Shortly after returning to Antioch, Jayna procured the services of a low-level cat-burglar almost by accident. Corran Vao was a tough for the local thieves guild, and as such viewed as disposable. The guild’s leaders needed to make a hit on a local merchant, and though he was well protected, they were confident that a suicide mission would finish the job. They told Corran of the job, and he agreed, ignorant of the fact that he wouldn’t make it out alive. Jayna caught wind of this through her contacts, and felt compelled to tell Corran he was heading for certain death. Sure enough, a little questioning of other members of the guild made this plain, and Corran went into hiding. Eternally grateful to Jayna for saving his life, he is slavishly devoted for her, and does an awful lot of legwork around the city, in addition to minding the shop when she’s out and about.
Jayna’s become fairly powerful, and is considering finding a mage to divine the location of her uncle Murdoch. If he’s still alive, she intends to find him, and begin preparations to kill Auric Dejarin. Physical Description Jayna stands about 5’3 carrying slight build with long red hair and a gorgeous face. Save for her molten red eyes and rune-etched skin, she would be deemed beautiful by anyone with a lick of sense. To disguise these disfigurements, Jayna always wears a hat of disguise, and chooses to have her features revert to what she looked like before the attack on her life. Never has she let anyone see her in her true form, lest word of the tinker with the molten eyes get out, and Auric comes looking for her. She always goes around clad in a set of leather armor, dyed black and form-fitting.
Attitude Jayna still harbors a deep sense of grief over her parents death, Triel’s death, and the slaughter of her entire school. Her years of traveling have matured her, and she now knows how to deal with this pain in a mature manner. Always in control of her emotions, Jayna presents a sunny, cheerful exterior to her customers and friends. When dealing in information or working on a job, she’s dead serious, and won’t even crack a smile, such is her focus.
Combat Jayna avoids frontal combat at all costs, due to her relatively low strength score and lack of armor. Instead, she prefers to use illusions to misdirect her foes, and likes to sneak attack from the shadows with her hand crossbow. If paired with a partner, she always tries to set up a flanking position. In addition, she likes to cast Reduce Person into her rapier, in hopes of shrinking her opponents down, and limiting their options in combat. Spells that she is particularly fond of are Blur, Mirror Image, and Web.
Fortitude:+ 1 Reflex :+ 4 Will :+ 2 BAB:+2 Grapple check:+ 3 Languages: Common
Short Sword [1d6, crit 19-20/x2, 1 lb, light, piercing] Shortbow [1d6, crit x3, range inc. 60 ft., 2 lb., piercing] Leather armor [light; + 2 AC; max dex + 6; check penalty 0; 15 lb.]
Feats: Improved Initiative Investigator Iron Will
Special Abilities: Sneak Attack +2d6 Trapfinding Evasion Trap Sense (level 3) Equipment: Mwk. Leather armor, mwk. Short sword, light crossbow, 10 bolts, thieves tools, 50 gp.
Description: Corran Vao is fanatically loyal to Jayna. He’s always doing her legwork, and it could be argued that he has a bit of a crush on her. Being tall, dark, and handsome, the same could be said in reverse, but nobody knows for sure. Corran’s past is unknown, but it’s obvious that he was never a very outstanding rogue. His shining quality is devotion. He’d die for Jayna without hesitation, and she knows this.
Notes to the DM/Adaptability: Jayna and her cohort Corran can be dropped into pretty much any campaign setting without too much trouble. They’re a good source of information, and can be used as allies or foes, depending on how the PCs meet them and treat them. I’ve deliberately left a lot of details ambiguous so that the DM can make up anything they need to. Feel free to swap out/change anything that doesn't jive with your campaign.
Jayna also has a Ring of Wizardry I. This is a 20,000gp item that was a gift to her from her uncle, and lets her cast more 1st level spells than she should. While out of line with her wealth limit, it gives her a little bit of character.
Should Jayna gain levels in your campaign, they would almost certainly be rogue levels.
A Half-Mummified Half-Orc greets you warmly. He introduces himself as Dert the Ranger of the Forest of Yus. Next to him stands a shy goblin with definite blue tint to his skin, Dert introduces him as Meno. Despite his numerous wounds he seems to be in an extremely good mood. When he learns that you’re just passing through, his mood becomes even more heightened. “Come new friends, The Forest has blessed me with stronger eyes and ears and even nose. It is time to party! I’ve got a pot of my world famous stew brewing and we have all night!”
Dert and Meno: A History
Dert was always a bit slow, even for someone with Orc blood. His human father, a bard of little talent, always told him stories before bedtime. Dert’s favorites were those about Rangers, silent hunters and heroes whose allies were the forests around them. By the time he came of age, Dert had already decided, he was going to become a ranger. He left home one night leaving a note and only taking three days worth of rations. By the next afternoon he had no food and was lost in a massive forest.
Dert went hungry for a few days, when he finally got some luck and managed to club a rabbit for food, an Owlbear decided it was going to steal his kill. Little Dert didn’t stand a chance, but lucky a traveling ranger by the name of Daridane appeared an neatly cut down the monster with a two-bladed sword. Dert had never seen such a cool weapon before. Daridane told him he should go home, that the forest did not care that he didn’t know how to survive out there. Dert would have none of that; he declared to Daridane that it was his dream to be a ranger, just like Daridane. Daridane was impressed with Dert’s strength of will and determination. He left Dert with two of his old weapons, a mundane two-bladed sword and shortbow. Daridane also told him about the forest and gave him several guidelines for surviving within it.
After Daridane had left, Dert now he had weapons to hunt with and he set out to become a ranger. Unfortunately he had forgotten the prayers and procedures that were necessary to train himself as a ranger. However, his powerful will and drive broke down a barrier in his mind and unlocked dormant psionic powers. Dert lived day to day, each day was a challenge, and he believed that he was becoming a ranger as his powers grew.
After a few years he met Meno, a goblin who fled from his tribe out of fear he would be murdered in his sleep. Dert treated Meno well. Dert tended to think the best of everyone, at least at first. Meno was transfixed by Dert, who he realized had the same power he did. Together they formed a brawn and brain team and managed to become the self-made guardians of the forest of Yus.
Recently Meno has harbored a secret from Dert, they’d been hunting a monstrous wolf that had been running amok. It was not until the night they fought the beast that Meno made the connection that it was a werewolf. Unfortunately he realized this right before the werewolf mauled him. He awoke to find Dert watching over him. As he came to he immediately became fearful, had he been infected? Meno couldn’t stand the thought, if he’d become a monster Dert would have to kill him. Meno couldn’t stand the thought of losing the only friend he had so he kept silent and tried to take care of his problem himself. He did not make it before the next full moon though, and when he woke up that morning he found the injured Dert lying next to the body of the werewolf. Thanks to the curse, Meno had a new outlook on life and almost left Dert there to die. Then he had an idea, if he let the curse take Dert as well, they could continue as they once were.
Dert and Meno: The current situation.
If the PCs are friendly and respectful of the forest, Dert will welcome them to dinner as above. Meno will be polite but somewhat cold. Dert is used to him being shy and won’t think anything of it. If someone has knowledge of psionics and tries to convince Dert he isn’t a ranger, he’ll lightly dismiss them as being silly.
The lycanthrope curse has taken hold in Dert, but he hasn’t had his alignment change yet. Dert thinks that the forest has granted him additional abilities because his senses of sight, hearing, and scent have improved since he now has animal hit dice. Dert trusts Meno completely and will be furious if someone suggests Meno has turned on him. Only with overwhelming proof will Dert believe accusations of Meno.
Meno is waiting for the curse to change Dert’s alignment to chaotic evil. He won’t want the PCs to stay for as long as Dert wants them to, especially if the next full moon is soon. He’ll constantly say things like “I’m sure they need to be on their way Dert, you shouldn’t keep them.” If a PC’s sense motive check beats his bluff check they can gather information from his behavior, but this is difficult due to Meno’s conceal thoughts power.
If Dert is given proof of Meno’s deception and plan, he will be horribly hurt and drive Meno away rather than fight him. If the PCs are capable of curing lycanthropy without wolvesbane (it is past the time where that will work), Dert will be absolutely thrilled. Meno will probably have to be subdued in this case because he of course likes his new mindset.
Using Dert and Meno in your campaign:
Dert fancies himself a ranger; he is however stat-wise a psychic warrior. His power list makes up for his utter lack of skill points and ranger abilities. His combat tactics are simply to charge in and make full attacks. If for whatever reason he can’t make a full attack, he will expend his psionic focus to power his psionic weapon feat for extra damage. He can also spend power points to charge his deep crystal two-bladed sword with psionic energy for extra energy. However, since he is a psychic warrior his power points are limited and all of his powers should be used in moderation during combat. If greatly threatened he will use mental barrier to increase his ac, usually augmenting it so that it lasts a few extra rounds.
Meno is a psion(Telepath), and has a more subtle approach to combat. He will open with psionic blast and then dominate and suggest enemies that he perceives to have a weak will. For more direct offense he will reduce someone to a comatose state with ego whip or use telekinetic maneuver to control the field. If damaged he will use hostile empathic transfer to heal himself and discourage enemies from further attacks.
Both Dert and Meno were created using 30 point buy.
For DMs new to psionics:
I’d like to point out a few important notes for those of you who are new to psionics.
One of the most important rules is that Dert and Meno cannot spend more power points on a single power than their manifester level (Equal to their level and a lot like caster level).
Another one is that under the default rules, magic and psionics are transparent. Which means that dispel magic dispels psionic effects as well as magical ones. It also means that spell resistance applies to psionic powers just like it does magic spells. In my entry I’ve included links to definitions of psionic terms in the srd. I hope you find them helpful.
For DMs who are anti-psionics.
In a non-psionic campaign Dert is a Barbarian3/Sorcerer6 and Meno is a Sorcerer7. I would provide stats for these builds but I don’t have the time. Sorry guys.
Dert and Meno:
Here are the stat blocks, I first have Dert and Meno without lycanthropy, and then with it.
Dert Half-Orc, 9th-Level Psychic Warrior Size/Type: Medium Humanoid (Orc, Psionic) Hit Dice: 9d8+18 (58 hp) Initiative: +3 Speed: 30 ft. (6 squares) Armor Class: 19 (+3 Dex, +5 Chain Shirt +1, +1 Two Weapon Defense), touch 13, flatfooted 17 Base Attack/Grapple: +6/+9 Attack: +1 Two-Bladed Sword +11 melee (1d8+5) or shortbow +9 ranged (1d6) Full Attack: +1/+1 Two-Bladed Sword +9/+9/+4/+4 melee (1d8+4/1d8+2) or shortbow +9/+4 ranged (1d6) Space/Reach: 5 ft./5 ft. Special Attacks: Psionic powers Special Qualities: Darkvision 60 ft. Saves: Fort +8, Ref +5, Will +6 Abilities: Str 17, Dex 17, Con 14, Int 6, Wis 16, Cha 8 Skills: Climb +5, Concentration +4, Move Silently +8, Swim +5 Feats: Exotic Weapon Proficiency(Two-Bladed Sword), Two Weapon Fighting, Two Weapon Defense, Psionic Weapon, Weapon Focus(Two-Bladed Sword), Leadership, Improved Two Weapon Fighting, Greater Psionic Weapon Challenge Rating: 9 Treasure: +1/+1 Deep Crystal Two-Bladed Sword, Boots of Elvenkind, Chain Shirt +1, Cloak of Resistance +1, 550 gp in unworked emeralds. Alignment: Chaotic Good Level Adjustment: +0
Tippi was born a precocious human girl on a bright and sunny day. Her family farm thrived amidst gently rolling hillsides within a cultivated river valley. The youngest of five siblings, she remained 'the baby' of the family well into adulthood. Her parents taught her the importance of the land and nature. Her earliest memory is sitting on bags of wheat in her father's wagon as it bounced in and out of the rutted road on the way to the flour mill. She remembers watching the small birds landing on the wagon, trying to grab a few stray grains before fluttering away.
Tippi was afflicted with asthma from childbirth. She endured most activities without problems, but when she overexerted herself, especially when chasing her siblings or playmates, she often had to stop for a lengthy breather. She'd lie on her back or on her side while the other children ran off and continued their games without her. Tippi was left alone, content to just to enjoy the company of the songbirds and other wildlife. She spent countless hours singing to the birds and learning their songs. She had a knack for wildlife and nature, for they remained her companions even while other children ran off. She became a bit of a local expert on flowers, birds, and bugs. If a farmer's crops were suffering a blight, she'd take a look and more often than not be able to precribe some remedy. She would delight whenever someone showed her an animal or plant that she'd never seen before. Her studies became so focused that she could, if she set her mind to it, imbue natural objects with magic. One of her first successes was with a magic pearl earring.
As Tippi blossomed into the flower of womanhood, she wondered at the joy of birds, dancing from plant to plant. As she grew older, she recognized that birds would spontaneously burst into song or dance, the way that children do but adults don't. During Tippi's periods of recovery from asthma attacks, she reflected on the beauty of nature, and an appreciation for life became the lynchpin of her personality, to find pleasure in every activity. Tippi's joy for life and apparent naivity added to her charm.
Tippi's first romance was with an apprentice locksmith, Rackham. Rackham attempted to woo young Tippi, but his courtship display was as insipid as that of a lowly tufted titmouse. Nevertheless, she accepted his clumsy advances and clumsier embraces. She eventually tired of his company and broke off their engagement. Rackham objected and besieged the lass with his entreaties, but from that point on she remained impenetrable. As the seasons passed, Rackham futilely continued to pursue Tippi, although she began to see other young men. One steamy summer afternoon, Rackham confronted Tippi in the glade where they first trysted. He said that he could live with the fact that she no longer belonged to him, but he could not tolerate the thought that she would ever belong to anyone else. Sweat dripped off the young man's chin as his temper rose with the afternoon heat. He violently struck her, and as she fell to the ground, the songbirds began to squawk in uproar. The afternoon sky darkened as hundreds of agitated birds took to the air. Rackham's blows continued to rain down upon Tippi and she lost consciousness. The birds began to swarm Rackham, first by the tens, then by the hundreds. Tippi awoke hours later, with a cool evening breeze chasing away the lingering daytime heat... the songbirds were quiet, but the scattered feathers on the ground and the bloody remains of Rackham provided ample evidence of what happened.
Tippi's parents feared that the Rackham's death would eventually be blamed on Tippi, so they encouraged her to go to the big city where she might find employment and avoid unpleasantness with the sheriff. Tippi was thrilled with the chance to go to the big city. The unpleasantness with Rackham had little effect on Tippi's jubilant demeanor. She still had an air of innocence, but she learned an important lesson from Rackham--how to read people's emotions.
Tippi's first job in the city was to act as a hoop-holder in a literal dog-and-pony show. She basically provided eye candy, holding the hoops while dogs jumped through them and then collecting donations from the audience after the show. She had a knack for animals and did quite well. One slow day, when there was almost no crowd, Tippi began to sing some folksongs, occasionally adding bits she learned from songbirds. She was an immediate hit. She became a star attraction in inns and theaters, and became known as "the voice of the nightingale". She was sought after and could almost always guarantee a sold-out show.
After many of her performances, and sometimes even during her performances, she would become winded... the old asthma continued to plague her, and caused her to cut some performances early. Rather than turning off the audiences, this caused an even greater demand for her singing. Tippi enjoyed the adulation of the crowds and her success, but she was also drawn back to nature. She established a cycle for herself, that she would migrate from the city to the wilderness each year, much as the birds do as they fly south for the winters. During her times in the wilderness, she practiced exercising and singing, in order to increase her stamina so that she could perform longer and better when she returned to the city. She also continued to imbue jewelry and other trinkets in order to improve her performing abilities, for example, she made a pair of magical castanets to chime along with her singing and help her keep a rhythm.
As an adult, Tippi is a slender, attractive woman. Her eyes are blue. Her brown hair curls on humid days. Her complexion is light. She powders her face when in the city. In the country she lets the sun brings out bright brown freckles on her nose and across cheeks. She has never suffered in her life, and an almost palpable innocence glows out of her pores. Tippi respects written laws, but not the confining mores of society. Her choices in lifestyle and lovers are unrestrained. She is likely to show up in public as a trophy consort of a wealthy gentleman. She is equally likely to have a romantic rendezvous with the gentleman's wife in an inconspicuous apartment. She goes out of her way to ease the suffering of the physically wounded and she takes risks to stand up for the opressed. She exercises great care in nursing a wounded animal back to health, but at the same time she is careless with people's emotions. She believes that everyone should be responsible for thier own happiness, and she cannot be held to blame for other people's hurt feelings. She has left a trail of heartbreak and broken marriages in her wake.
Tippi's fame grows as she becomes a recognized and sought after performer in the larger cities. Any theater that is fortunate enough to book a performance of "the voice of the nightingale" is assured of a sold-out house. After her performances, she is regularly invited to private parties or elegant balls, but she is equally sought after in parlors in the hopes that she'll discuss the politics of state or the politics of the bedroom. She often retires from the hustle of the city to relax in nature. She has a restless spirit, and finds as much pleasure alone in the wilderness as she does being adored by cheering fans. When she goes alone into the wilderness, she spends her days communing with nature, and in here evenings she tinkers with her jewelry, occasionally imbuing it with greater magic to enhance her performances and abilities when she returns to the city.
Even after Tippi has matured beyond her physical prime, she has a reputation as a femme fatale that appeals to adventurous people half her age. She is often sought after by the bold and daring who know only of her reputation. While in the metropolis, Tippi leaves the public stage and spends more time with powerful political figures, sometimes as an entertainer, sometimes as a consort, but most often acting as an advisor. Any successful advisor knows that being brilliant is half as important as being liked. When a powerful person needs to be convinced to change thier tactics, Tippi's charms often succeed where a less diplomatic person might alienate. She works best with a group of advisors, letting others think up a brilliant strategy, while she takes care of convincing the right people to adopt the strategy.
Tippi continues to split her time between the wilderness and the city; taking extended leaves of absence from important advisory positions in order to retire to the countryside. Every time she goes to the wilderness, she leaves behind a wake of politicing and rumors amidst the power vacuum. In the wilderness, she rarely spends more than a season in any area. She may live near a secluded seaside cliff one year, and in a dense forest the next. She periodically returns to old haunts, in order to see how people and places have changed, while the cycle of life has remained the same. ------------------------------------------------- *Introducing Tippi Hitchkin Into your campaign: Tippi could easily be introduced into your campaign as a source of information, or as a colorful recurring NPC. She is at home in both wilderness and urban environments. If the campaign world doesn't support a large metropolis, then Tippi would split her time between living in the woods and touring between a variety of mid-sized towns. It might be particularly interesting to introduce her early in her career, in order that the PCs can meet her later in her career as the campaign develops--in order to give your campaign a sense of being a living world. In a forest or wilderness setting, the party might be drawn by the sound of her singing or the singing of her swarm of songbirds. She might be encountered trying to fend off the entreaty of a persistent messenger that wants to book her for some performances in the metropolis. In town, she could be performing at any upscale inn or theater. Tippi is not designed as a combat encounter, being under equipped for combat and having an extremely weak "fighting" build. A DM should probably adjust any experience reward for overcoming her in combat by considering her to be a CR4 challenge at 5th level, a CR8 challenge at 10th level, and a CR12 challenge at 15th level.
*Will the caged bird sing? (urban adventure hook) A powerful ambassador from a foreign country becomes obsessed with Tippi after watching several of her performances. He wants her for himself but doesn't want to get his hands dirty, so he hires a party of adventuerers to kidnap her. Shortly after Tippi's dissappearance, (and several misses several perfmances,) it seems likely that Tippi will miss a private ball held by local lord. Tippi's manager or the local lord hire adventurers to find out what happened to Tippi, and to engineer her return if possible. The upcoming private ball provides a deadline in order to pressure the adventurers to act fast. Depending on the PCs alignment, the PCs might have been hired for the kidnapping, the rescue, or both! The ambassador from a foreign country could be replaced with an undead patron of the arts (vampire or lich), or a powerful aristocrat flunky of your campaign's primary villian.
*A Little Bird Told Me. (urban adventure hook) The party needs to gather information about or seek an audience with a high ranking member of a secretive guild. The guild member only comes out of hiding in order to attend one of Tippi's performances (and perhaps even then he uses a disguise.) The party might need to convince Tippi to provide information about the guild member, or they might have to persuade her to put on a performance in which she is used as bait to bring the guild member out of hiding.Things could be complicated if Tippi is currently in the forest and is not ready to return to the metropolis, or she might already be booked with private performaces for the local magistrate, or perhaps she has retired from public performances altogether.
*Birds of a Feather. (wilderness adventure hook) A rare forest bird has plumage that is required for crafting sleep arrow, screaming bolts, arrows of slaying, or some other magical ammunition. Or, depending on your campaign, perhaps an archery-focused prestige class uses the plumage on thier handcrafted arrows. The bird is rare, and is rapidly being hunted into extinction. If the PCs are on a quest to gather this plumage, Tippi would object to slaying the endangered birds. If an external organization is trying to destroy the birds, Tippi could seek out the PCs for assistance in dealing with the threat. An underground threat, such as drow arcane archers, might be appropriate, since Tippi wouldn't want to venture underground.
*The broken nest: (wilderness adventure hook) On a recent stay in the city, Tippi had an affair with a married man. When Tippi returned to the wilderness, the distrought man kills himself. The wife, hires the party to find Tippi and exact revenge. Otherwise, the wife hires a ranger/assasin to get revenge, and Tippi's manager in the city hires the party to stop the assasination. It is a chase to see who gets to Tippi first, and perhaps to get her to mend her ways.
The Choir (Tippi's druid Animal Companion) Tippi's animal companion is a swarm of several small species of songbirds that she calls "the choir". The swarm included chickadees, nuthatches, finches, and warblers. The flock of songbirds have a dazzling display of plumage, with nearly every color of the rainbow represented by some species of songbird. While it may seem strange for birds of different species to travel together, it is easier to understand when you watch how each bird looks for food. Chickadees flit from branch to branch looking for bugs and seeds. Nuthatches start at the top of the tree and walk headfirst down the tree, looking for insects from above. Warblers start at the bottom of the tree and work their way up the trunk looking for insects from below. Finches feed on fruit and buds. Since each species of bird looks for insect and seed food in a different way, they aren’t really competing with each other. In addition, traveling in a flock makes each individual bird safer as well. Predators have a much more difficult time sneaking up on a flock of birds than they would have sneaking up on an individual bird. While Tippi is in the wilderness, the Choir usually remain within distant earshot. While Tippi is within a metropolis, she'll often have an upper-floor apartment with a rooftop garden or with a view of a park. If there isn't a convient location for a flock of songbirds, they'll remain in the wilderness during Tippi's forays in the metropolis. The choir are protective of Tippi but are unlikely to attack or threaten anyone except for a stray tomcat or other small predator.
------------------------------ To make it easier to add Tippi to your campaign, three sets of stat-blocks have been provided, representing Tippi at 5th level, 10th level, and 15th level.
Stat Blocks at 5th level
Tippi Hitchkin Human Drd3/Brd2: CR 5; AL Neutral HD 3d8-3 plus 2d6-2; hp 17 Init +1 (Dex); Spd 30 ft.; AC 13 (2 armor, +1 Dex), touch 11, flat-footed 12 BAB/Grap +3/+3 Atk +4 melee (1d6 masterwork club) in wilderness only, none in city Full Atk +4 melee (1d6 masterwork quarterstaff) Saves: Fort +2 (+3 base, -1 Con), Ref +5 (+4 base, +1 Dex), Will +8 (+6 base, +2 Wis) Abilities: Str 10, Dex 12, Con 8, Int 13, Wis 15, Cha 15. Skills: Concentration +5(6 ranks, -1 Con), Diplomacy +8(6 ranks, +2 Cha), Handle Animal +8(6 ranks, +2 Cha), Knowledge(Local) +6(5 ranks, +1 Int), Knowledge (Nature) +9(6 ranks, +1 Int, +2 nature sense), Listen +8(6 ranks, +2 Wis), Perform(sing) +18(8 ranks, +2 Cha, +3 feat, +5 item), Sense Motive +10(5 ranks, +2 Wis, +3 feat), Survival +10(6 ranks, +2 Wis, +2 nature sense). Feats: Craft Wondrous Item, Skill Focus (Perform [sing]), Skill Focus (Sense Motive). Bard Class Abilities: Bardic music, bardic knowledge, countersong, fascinate, inspire courage +1 Druid Class Abilities: Animal companion, nature sense, wild empathy, Woodland stride, Trackless step
Druid Spells Prepared (4,3,2; save DC 12 + spell level): 0—cure minor wounds, detect poison, guidance, know direction; 1st—calm animals, cure light wounds, speak with animals; 2nd—owl's wisdom, tree shape. Bard Spells Per Day (3/2; save DC 12 + spell level) Bard Spells Known 0--detect magic, light, mending, message, lullaby; 1st--disguise self, expeditious retreat.
Posessions (4000gp expected): magical castanets (+5 competence bonus to perform(singing), requires 2 free hands) 2500 gp pearl of power earring (1st level) 1000gp Noble's outfit (in town) 100gp masterwork club (in wilderness) 300gp leather armor (in wilderness) 10gp purse with 25gp
The Choir Bird Swarm; Diminutive Animal (Swarm); AL Neutral HD 5d8; hp 22 Init +3 (Dex); Speed 5 ft. (1 square), fly 40 ft. (good) AC 19 (+4 size, +3 dex, +2 natural), touch 17, flat-footed 16 BAB/Grap +3/- Atk Swarm (1d6) Full Atk Swarm (1d6) SA: distraction (DC 12) SQ: Immune to weapon damage, low light vision SV Fort +4 (+4 base), Ref +9 (+4 base, +3 Dex, +2 Feat), Will +3 (1 Base, +2 Wis) Str 3, Dex 16, Con 11, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 4. Skills: Listen +8 (4 ranks, +2 feat, +2 Wis), Spot +8 (4 ranks, +2 feat, +2 Wis) Feats: Alertness, Lightning Reflexes Animal Companion Abilities: Link, share spells, Evasion Distraction (Ex): Any living creature that begins its turn with a swarm in its space must succeed on a DC 12 Fortitude save or be nauseated for 1 round. The save DC is Constitution-based. ------------------------------ Stat Blocks at 10th level
Tippi Hitchkin Human Druid 6/Bard 4: CR 10; AL Neutral HD 6d8 plus 4d6; hp 45 Init +1 (Dex); Spd 30 ft.; AC 13 (2 armor, +1 Dex), touch 11, flat-footed 12 BAB/Grap +7/+7 Atk +8 melee (1d6 masterwork club) in wilderness only, none in city Full Atk +8/+3 melee (1d6 masterwork club) Saves: Fort +6 (+6 base), Ref +7 (+6 base, +1 Dex), Will +9 (+6 base, +3 Wis) Abilities: Str 10, Dex 12, Con 10, Int 13, Wis 16, Cha 17. Skills): Concentration +6(6 ranks), Diplomacy +15(12 ranks, +3 Cha), Handle Animal +13(10 ranks, +3 Cha), Knowledge(Local) +6(5 ranks, +1 Int), Knowledge (Nature) +13(10 ranks, +1 Int, +2 nature sense), Knowledge (Nobility) +6(5 ranks, +1 Int), Listen +9(6 ranks, +3 Wis), Perform(sing) +27(13 ranks, +3 Cha, +3 feat, +8 item), Sense Motive +17(11 ranks, +3 Wis, +3 feat), Survival +15(10 ranks, +3 Wis, +2 nature sense). Feats: Craft Wondrous Item, Endurance, Natural spell, Skill Focus (Perform [sing]), Skill Focus (Sense Motive). Bard Class Abilities: Bardic music, bardic knowledge, countersong, fascinate, inspire courage +1, inspire competence Druid Class Abilities: Animal companion, nature sense, wild empathy, Woodland stride, Trackless step, resist nature's lure, wild shape (2x/day)
Druid Spells Prepared (5,4,4,3; save DC 13 + spell level): 0—cure minor wounds, detect poison, guidance, know direction, purify food and drink; 1st—calm animals, cure light wounds, entangle, speak with animals; 2nd—animal messenger, barkskin, owl's wisdom, tree shape; 3rd--cure moderate wounds, dominate animal, speak with plants. Bard Spells Per Day (3/3/1; save DC 13 + spell level) Bard Spells Known 0--detect magic, light, mending, message, lullaby, read magic; 1st--disguise self, expeditious retreat, tasha's hideous laughter; 2nd--eagle's splendor, tongues.
Posessions (16000gp expected): magical castanets (+8 competence bonus to perform(singing), requires 2 free hands) 6,400 gp belt of health (+2 Con - reflected in stats) 4,000 gp Periapt of wisdom (+2 Wis - reflected in stats) 4,000 gp pearl of power earring (1st level) 1000gp 2 Noble's outfits (in town) 100gp each masterwork club (in wilderness) 300gp leather armor (in wilderness) 10gp purse with 40gp turquoise necklace 50 gp
The Choir Bird Swarm; Diminutive Animal (Swarm); AL Neutral HD 7d8+7; hp 38 Init +3 (Dex); Speed 5 ft. (1 square), fly 40 ft. (good) AC 21 (+4 size, +3 dex, +4 natural), touch 17, flat-footed 18 BAB/Grap +5/- Atk Swarm (1d6) Full Atk Swarm (1d6) SA: distraction (DC 16) SQ: Immune to weapon damage, low light vision SV Fort +6 (+5 base, +1 Con), Ref +9 (+5 base, +3 Dex, +2 Feat), Will +4 (2 Base, +2 Wis) Str 3, Dex 17, Con 12, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 4. Skills: Listen +8 (4 ranks, +2 feat, +2 Wis), Spot +8 (4 ranks, +2 feat, +2 Wis) Feats: Ability Focus (distraction), Alertness, Lightning Reflexes Animal Companion Abilities: Link, share spells, Evasion, Devotion Distraction (Ex): Any living creature that begins its turn with a swarm in its space must succeed on a DC 16 Fortitude save or be nauseated for 1 round. The save DC is Constitution-based.
------------------------------ Stat Block for Tippi and the Choir (15th level)
Druid Spells Prepared (6,6,5,4,3,2; save DC 15 + spell level): 0—cure minor wounds, detect poison, guidance x2, know direction, purify food and drink; 1st—calm animals, cure light wounds, endure elements, entangle, magic fang, speak with animals x2; 2nd—animal messenger, barkskin, cat's grace, owl's wisdom, tree shape; 3rd--cure moderate wounds, curse of the albatross (new spell below), dominate animal, speak with plants; 4th--dispel magic, freedom of movement, scrying; 5th--commune with nature, tree stride. Bard Spells Per Day (3/4/3; save DC 13 + spell level) Bard Spells Known 0--detect magic, light, mending, message, lullaby, read magic; 1st--disguise self, expeditious retreat, grease, tasha's hideous laughter; 2nd--eagle's splendor, bluebird of happiness* (new spell below), tongues.
Posessions (59,000gp expected): magical castanets (+10 competence bonus to perform(singing), requires 2 free hands) 10,000 gp feathered tiara of sense motive (+10 competence bonus to sense motive) 10,000 gp belt of health (+4 Con - reflected in stats) 8,000 gp Periapt of wisdom (+4 Wis - reflected in stats) 8,000 gp Cloak of resistance +3 9000gp pearl of power earring (1st level) 1000gp pearl of power earring (3rd level) 9000gp 2 Noble's outfits (in town) 100gp each +1 club (in wilderness) 2300gp +1 leather armor (in wilderness) 1160gp purse with 40gp turquoise necklace 50 gp 250gp in bank
The Choir Bird Swarm; Diminutive Animal (Swarm); AL Neutral HD 9d8+12; hp 52 Init +4 (Dex); Speed 5 ft. (1 square), fly 40 ft. (good) AC 24 (+4 size, +4 dex, +6 natural), touch 18, flat-footed 20 BAB/Grap +5/- Atk Swarm (1d6) Full Atk Swarm (1d6) SA: distraction (DC 17) SQ: Immune to weapon damage, low light vision SV Fort +7 (+6 base, +1 Con), Ref +12 (+6 base, +4 Dex, +2 Feat), Will +3 (3 Base, +2 Wis) Str 3, Dex 18, Con 13, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 4. Skills: Listen +10 (6 ranks, +2 feat, +2 Wis), Spot +10 (6 ranks, +2 feat, +2 Wis) Feats: Ability Focus (distraction), Alertness, Lightning Reflexes, Toughness Animal Companion Abilities: Link, share spells, Evasion, Devotion, Multiattack (n/a) Distraction (Ex): Any living creature that begins its turn with a swarm in its space must succeed on a DC 17 Fortitude save or be nauseated for 1 round. The save DC is Constitution-based. ------------------------------ NEW SPELLS
Bluebird of Happiness Enchantment (Compulsion) [Mind-Affecting] Level: Brd 2, Drd 2 Components: V, S, DF Casting Time: 1 standard action Range: personal Target: You Duration: 1 round/level (D) Saving Throw: Will negates Spell Resistance: Yes A beautiful bluebird appears either on your shoulder or hovering nearby. Anyone within 60 ft. who views the bluebird feels joy and happiness unless they make a Will saving throw. The spell is similar to a gaze attack with a range of 60 ft--any defenses against gaze attacks, such as averting one's gaze, have similar chances of ignoring the bluebird of happiness spell. The effects of the spell automatically suppresses (but does not dispel) barbarian rage. The spell also supresses any any offensive morale bonuses granted by spells such as bless, good hope, and rage, as well as negating a the offensive aspects of a bard’s ability to inspire courage. For example, someone under the effect of heroism would keep thier +2 bonus to saves and skill checks, but they would lose the +2 bonus on attack rolls. While the spell lasts, a suppressed spell or effect has no effect. When the bluebird of happiness spell ends, the bluebird disappeas and the original spell or effect takes hold of the creature again, provided that its duration has not expired in the meantime.
Curse of the Albatross Necromancy Level: Brd 3/Drd3 Components: V, S Casting Time: 1 standard action Range: Medium (100 ft. + 10 ft./level) Area: All living creatures within a 40-ft.-radius burst Duration: Instantaneous, (1 day/caster level) see text Saving Throw: Will negates Spell Resistance: Yes All effected creatures are cursed; they suffer no immediate ill effects--but if they inflict harm on any bird, the penalties associated with the curse of the albatross take effect. The victim suffers a –4 penalty on attack rolls, saves, ability checks, and skill checks; they are also considered to be carrying a heavy load, weighed down by a symbolic albatross around their neck. A person that fails their Will save, but who has not yet harmed any bird, is aware of the penalties they will suffer if they inflict harm on a bird. The curse lasts for 1 day per level of the caster, regardless of whether the victim is suffering a penalty. The curse bestowed by this spell can be dispelled, removed with a break enchantment, limited wish, miracle, remove curse, or wish spell. Any creature with the animal type and a fly speed is considered a "bird" for the purpose of this spell, thus bats are protected by the spell, but rocs and harpies are not.
------------------------------ NEW MONSTER
BIRD SWARM Diminutive Animal (Swarm) Hit Dice: 3d8 (13 hp) Initiative: +2 Speed: 5 ft. (1 square), fly 40 ft. (good) Armor Class: 16 (+4 size, +2 Dex), touch 14, flat-footed 12 Base Attack/Grapple: +2/— Attack: Swarm (1d6) Full Attack: Swarm (1d6) Space/Reach: 10 ft./0 ft. Special Attacks: Distraction Special Qualities: half damage from slashing and piercing, low-light vision, swarm traits Saves: Fort +3, Ref +7, Will +3 Abilities: Str 3, Dex 15, Con 10, Int 2, Wis 14, Cha 4 Skills: Listen +7, Spot +7 Feats: Alertness, Lightning Reflexes Environment: Temperate forest Organization: Solitary, flight (2–4 swarms), or flock (11–20 swarms) Challenge Rating: 1 Treasure: None Alignment: Always neutral Advancement: None Level Adjustment: — A bird swarm could be composed of any number of species of birds: a murder of crows, black as night and filling the sky; a group of bold and opportunistic seagulls; a colony of aggressive starlings; just to name a few. A swarm of birds usually retreats when confronted. They normally live in harmony with nature and people. Once in a while, however, if a food source is threatened or if a nest has been disturbed, a swarm becomes aggressive and attacks relentlessly. For the most part, swarms of birds give ample warning of an impending attack with aggressive calls. The calls serve not only to warn away intruders, but to summon additional birds to defend the area. Combat A bird swarm scratches, claws, and pecks at living creatures, dealing 1d6 points of damage to any creature whose space it occupies at the end of its move. Distraction (Ex): Any living creature that begins its turn with a swarm in its space must succeed on a DC 11 Fortitude save or be nauseated for 1 round. The save DC is Constitution-based.
------------------------------ Adaptability Notes
Swarm as an Animal Companion: As with other animal companions, a DM can use the CR of the companion as an guide for when a swarm is a balanced companion for a druid or ranger. A reasonable option for 4th level druids would be a rat swarm or bat swarm. Depending on the flavor of your campaign world, you might consider allowing a druid to have a swarm of vermin as a companion. A spider swarm (for a level 1 druid), a locust swarm (for a level 7 druid), or a centipede swarm (for a level 10 druid), are all balanced. As a flavor element, you may want to limit vermin companions to evil characters or underdark races. Not because vermin themselves are evil, but because in many campaigns the use of poison by a being capable of moral judgements is considered an evil act. It is important that the druid understands that the swarm acts as a collective. The druid cannot command an individual creature from the swarm to do any particular task. In core rules, a druid's animal companion gains increases to Strength as the druid advances. For a swarm, I suggest that increasing Constitution is a fair alternate method for advancing the companion. Tippi's songbird swarm companion in the entry above reflects increases to CON rather than STR. To use core rules only for Tippi's swarm, at 5th level the Choir has 1 more Str and 1 less Con. At 10th level, the Choir has 2 more Str, 2 less Con. At 15th level, the Choir has 3 more Str, 3 less Con. Remember to reduce hit points, fortitude saving throws, and distraction DCs accordingly.
Chronic Asthma: Chronic asthma is characterized by extreme shortness of breath, repeated episodes or "attacks" lead to permanent lung damage. Asthma can be congenital or it can arise due to environmental factors. Congential asthma can only be cured by a wish; environmentally induced asthma can be cured with a heal spell and remediation of the environmental factors in order to prevent relapse. An asthma attack is represented in D20 by the fatigued condition... though rather than a character being physically farigued, they are unable to fully breathe and they suffer a corresponding weakness due to hypoxia. A character with asthma suffers a -4 penalty on the following checks and saves: Swim checks made to resist nonlethal damage, Constitution checks made to continue running, Constitution checks made to hold your breath, and Fortitude saves made to resist damage from suffocation. Cardiovascular activities are difficult for characters that suffer from asthma. A character with asthma that charges is fatigued on the following round. A character with asthma is immediately fatigued if they attempt to run at full speed. A character with asthma can safely run at 3x speed if they are in light armor and carrying no more than a light load. A character with asthma is automatically fatigued if they attempt to run in medium or heavy armor or when carrying a medium or heavier load. A character with asthma also has a 10% reduction of thier lifespan. A character that has the Endurance feat is able to counter some of the penalties on checks or saves, but still suffers a risk of acute asthma attacks from charging or running at full speed and they still suffer the reduction in life expectancy.
------------------------------ Game Balance Issues: (adaptability, technical information)
The spell "bluebird of happiness" is similar to calm emotions. Unlike calm emotions, this spell has both range and effects multiple targets. This spell, however, is significantly weaker (it doesn't prevent offensive activity and it doesn't thwart defensive morale bonuses.) The spell also indescriminately effects allies as well as opponents.
The spell "Curse of the Albatross" is similar to a standard bestow curse. Unlike a regular bestow curse, the spell has a limited duration, and very precise trigger conditions. Even if a person is effected by the curse, they can simply choose not to harm any bird in order to avoid any ill effects. The advantage of the curse of the albatross is the fact that it has multiple targets.
The stats for a bird swarm is based on a bat swarm. Birds and bats are small warmblooded animals of roughly the same size and strength. I believe that in removing the wounding special attack, the blindsense special quality, and racial modifiers of +4 to spot and listen is adequate to justify droping the CR from 2 to 1. The largest threat from a bat swarm is the wounding ability, rather than the simple 1d6 damage per round.
The disabilities for asthma are based primarily on reversing the bonuses provided by the Endurance feat. The reduction in run speed is meant to reflect that asthmatic people can compete athletically, but they run the risk of an attack if they push themselves too hard. There is some indication that people with asthma are more succeptable to some diseases (influenza, bronchial infections), but I didn't see enough consistency to warrant a broad reduction to FORT saves.
Coming out of the brush, seemingly out of nowhere, is man covered in leaves and various other items tapped from the flora and fauna which surrounds you. A spiked chain spins casually as the man leans on a tree, lights his pipe and asks, "Whats your business here travellers?"... Name: Nicolas Fortrisic Gender: Male Race: Half-Elf Class: Rogue 6/ Assassin 3 Challenge Rating: 9 Size and Subtype: Medium Humanoid Hit Dice and Hit Points: 9d6+9 Initiative: +8 Speed: 30 (6 squares) 40(8 squares) w/ Boots of Striding and Springing Armor Class: 18/19 (w/ Dodge) or 22/23 (see DM Notes) (+ 4 Dexterity, Leather +2, Ring of Protection +1) BAB/Grapple: +6/+1 or +7 Attack: +11/+6 Spike Chain +1 (2d4+3) or +11/+6 Light Crossbow (1d8) or +8/+3 Adamantine short sword Full Attack: +11/+6 Spike Chain +1 (2d4+3) or +11/+6 Light Crossbow (1d8) or +8/+3 Adamantine short sword Special Attacks: Sneak Attack, Death Attack, spells Special Qualities: Trapfinding, Trapsense, poison use, Improved Uncanny Dodge, Evasion, +1 on saves vs. poison, Half-elf racial traits Alignment: Lawful Evil Saves: Fort: +4 Ref: +12 Will: +5 Ability Scores: Str: 10 (14), Dex: 18, Con: 12, Int: 12, Wis: 12 Cha: 14 Skills and Feats: Exotic Weapon Proficiency – Spiked Chain, Weapon Finesse, Dodge, Improved Initiative, Combat Reflexes Balance +8, Bluff +11, Diplomacy +9, Disable Device +9, Disguise +10, Escape Artist +11, Forgery +6, Gather Information +7, Hide +21, Intimidate +4, Jump +8, Listen +5, Move Silently +14, Open Lock +9, Search +4, Spot +2, Tumble +9, Use Magic Device +9 Spells Prepared: (Assassin spell list DMG pg.181) DC:12 1st- Sleep, Disguise Self Languages: Common, Elf, Gnoll Possessions: Spike Chain +1, Boots of Striding and Springing, Shadowed Leather +2, Ring pf Protection +1, Adamantine short sword, Masterwork Adamantine Full Plate and Master Work steel shield (see DM notes), 6 applications of Large Scorpion poison (DMG pg. 297) Light Crossbow w/20 bolts
Special Attacks Sneak Attack(pg. 50 PHB) – Nicolas can strike for an extra 5d6 points of damage if his target is denied their Dexterity or if he flanks his target. Death Attack(pg. 180 DMG) - If Nicolas studies his opponent for 3 rounds he can attempt a death attack which will paralyze or kill his target. A DC 14 fortitude save must be passed to avoid suffering these effects. See the pages noted above for more information. Spells (pg 181 DMG) – Nicolas can cast a small number of 1st level spells from the Assassin spell list found on the pages given. Special Qualities Trapfinding(pg. 50 PHB) – Nicolas can Search for traps if the DC is 20 or higher. Trapsense +2(pg. 50 PHB) – Nicolas gets +2 to Reflex saves made to avoid trap attacks. Poison Use(pg. 181 DMG) – Nicolas doesn’t face any danger when applying poison. Improved Uncanny Dodge(pg. 50 PHB) – Nicolas retains his Dexterity even when attacked from Invisible attackers and cannot be caught flat footed. Additionally Nicolas can no longer be flanked except in certain situations. Read the pages above for more information. Evasion(pg. 50 PHB) – If Nicolas succeeds on a Reflex save versus a spell that would normally deal half damage, he takes none. Half -Elf Traits (pg. 18 PHB) – Nicolas has low light vision and is immune to sleep spells. He has a +2 versus enchantment spells or effects. Physical Description Nicolas is a tall and attractive male. He stands at an even 6 feet tall and weighs 185 pounds. Nicolas is lean and slender and moves with an elven grace although he certainly looks more human than elf. With long golden hair that sets evenly with his strong chin, Nicolas has deep blue eyes that have men trust him and ladies swoon over him. Nicolas is always clean and wears impeccable clothing kept to the highest standards. Whether wearing his field armor, the leather, or his adamantine dress armor Nicolas always looks regal.
Personality Nicolas is certainly not what most people would guess as an evil person. Nicolas is a soldier’s soldier. He is amiable, full of humor, self depreciating and graceful. Nicolas is also calculating, efficient and thorough in all tasks that he accepts or is ordered to pursue. It is because of those former qualities that make him a respected leader and noted soldier of high repute.
However Nicolas can be cold and uncaring to put it mildly. In hushed tones his troops will speak of how they could have saved a small villa if only Nicolas’s wish for the town’s young women had been fulfilled. It wasn’t and a marauding band of barbarians ransacked it and burned it to the ground. Patiently Nicolas and his squad watched from a nearby hill as the town was raised. The following morning Nicolas ordered the slaughter of every barbarian, to a man, before striking on a raid.
Nicolas too has no problem torturing, poisoning or even killing people as it suits him. To be sure he won’t kill if ordered not too but woe is the person that holds information that Nicolas Fortrisic deems valuable.
Adaptability and putting Nicolas Fortrisic in your campaign Nicolas was a born leader. He could always lead troops and had a way with people. However Nicolas liked torturing people. He used the natural rapport gained to bend peoples will to better get what he wanted. At a young age Nicolas would use blackmail, doublespeak and blatant lying to get people to do as he wished. He had a knack for it and absolutely enjoyed it. As he grew older he graduated to kidnapping, extortion and, finally, murder.
For every big and bad person there is always someone bigger and always someone more evil. Nicolas met that person in his late teens and that person held power. Constable Rudwick Caste loved wine, money and small children. Constable Caste was one of the most crooked authority figures in the town but almost the entire populace was ignorant to Rudwick’s peccadilloes. Nicolas found out about them though and paid the Constable a visit. Nicolas used his usual avenues of approach and was immediately threatened by the good Constable.
Nicolas relished this challenge. Nicholas laid low and pretended to be in hiding, afraid of the good constable. It took only a week and Rudwick was back to his old ways. Nicolas took this as a blessing and gave chase. He waited and watched, glad that he would rid the world of this evil person. When Rudwick finished with the boy and gave the perfunctory warning the young boy left. It was time for Nicolas to work.
Constable Rudwick proved to be quite the tough one. He took all Nicolas had and laughed. The laughing stopped when Nicolas sliced his throat. Not paying attention during the torture, Nicolas never realized that Rudwick had magically summoned reinforcements. Nicolas ran. Nicolas joined a city militia as a scout figuring that it would provide protection. It did and Nicola found a second calling.
Nicolas excelled at scouting. He found that he relished in the killing without the trappings of law. After only a few years, which passed by fast Nicolas thought, Nicolas was responsible for the capturing, retaining and questioning of any people his superiors felt were a danger to the nation. Nicolas relished this too and gleefully explored new ways of torture to get information. It was during one high stakes capture that Nicolas really became rewarded.
While on patrol one night Nicolas watched with his strike team as a caravan rolled by in the dark. Nicolas stopped it and found an opposing city’s senator in hiding, apparently being smuggled to a safe location away from the advancing troops. This high profile capture brought Nicolas fame and power.
Currently Nicolas is in charge of the Scouts 2 Regiment of The South (or whatever works in your campaign) and still takes contracts.
DM Notes Nicolas has been awarded a gleaming set of adamantine items in the form of sword, armor and shield. Nicolas is loathe wearing these items but will do so if ordered or if he wishes to make a grand presence. While wearing these items Nicolas suffers a -7 to his attack rolls as well as Strength and Dexterity ability and skill checks. This suit of armor is replete with baldric, heavy blue cloak and gloves as well as a plumed helm. Nicolas, because of the armors material gains DR 2/-.
I-d-errs -- Someone has been killing off good political members of the PCs place of residency. Who is it? -- Despite not being at war it would seem that troops are being attacked by troops from the next city. However the powers that be of said city swear that they are not attack the troops...so who is trying to start a war here? -- The king informs the PCs that a rogue unit is about, making him (her) look bad and, sadly, it probably is his (or her) fault. The PCs must stop a war hero..quietly. While investigating the king (or queen) is found dead. The war hero takes the throne..and the people rejoice. What will the PCs do? -- An evil king fears Nicolas because the people back him. He wants him "neautralized"...who will the PCs choose? -- While heavily outnumbered the PCs accept their fate. Suddenly a small military unit helps out. A gracious and amiable Nicolas offers them a spoton the team. How will the PCs react to the squad tactics that they come to see?
