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Thread: PC Campfire

  1. #1

    Default PC Campfire

    A weary adventuring party sits down around the fire to rest before another day of surprises...
    Last edited by Boethius; 06-01-2019 at 09:50 PM.

  2. #2

    Default PC Campfire

    Karlis' story was written before he was born. His mother was the prized concubine of a powerful warlord from southern badlands. The warlord swelled with pride when he learned that he would sire a son to carry on his legacy. Imagine his horror when the babes skin was scarlet, and wore ramhorns around his brow. Karlis' mother was wise enough to flee while she still drew breath, finding her way north and joining a traveling circus where she made her living plying her magics to the entertainment of many. While crowds drew to watch her spectacle, they scorned her son. Rage grew in karlis' heart as he aged, hardening him, like a blade under a hot flame. Karlis knuckles grew hard, whether he was fighting other kids from the circus, or just defending himself from the mobs from whichever town he found himself in. even karlis' wasn't so thick headed to believe he could take crowds of other kids, many larger and stronger than he was with just his bare hands. His mother cried when she saw him chase a mob of bullies away with a swinging chain. She didn't see a scared child defending himself, but rather the spitting image of a warlord, a man that painted sand red with a bladed chain.

    As the years wore on, Karlis outgrew the circus and tried to find his way as a servant of fortune

    these days Karlis hides his face from the world and wields a spiked chain, whether in honor of a demon in the south, or a devil beneath, only a witch could know for sure.

    Karlis is chaotic neutral. grew up primarily in Arax, his mother pushed him towards the worship of helenana, he secretly always found the god Drasga appealing, He is going to take 2 levels of fighter before going into slayer (kind of a skilled frontliner who mostly controls the battlefield)
    Last edited by Grayson Tagger; 05-22-2019 at 09:11 AM.

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Jul 2011
    Antwerp, Belgium
    Blog Entries


    Character name: Tycho Boughbreaker
    Quote Originally Posted by Appearance
    Tycho is a huge man, barrel chested with broad shoulders and massive arms. He's much faster than he looks as well. He keeps his prematurely grey hair short and his beard trimmed. His handsome yet rugged face is accented by his deep blue eyes. His voice is strong and deep, capable equally of instilling fear with threats and soothing emotions with salving words.

    Quote Originally Posted by Vital stats
    Age: 28
    Height: 6'11"
    Weight: 242lbs
    Race: Sulis
    Class: Bloodrager
    Ideal party roles: Frontline warrior, party face
    Quote Originally Posted by Sheet link
    Quote Originally Posted by Background
    Tycho was born to a harlot and countless fathers in a no-name settlement bordering the military fort Roughstone on the southern border of Durvale with Arax. His home was not without love but his youth was hard and poor. He was the eldest of 10 children and he helped his mother dutifully in caring for and raising his siblings. Infant mortality is high in such circumstances and only 6 of the 10 children lived past the age of four. Tycho grew up mostly on the muddy streets of the settlement, scrounging together money to help support his family. Often through larceny, sometimes as hired hand. His size and strength were a blessing to him there and he was able to at least alleviate the worst of his family's troubles. Throughout his youth his family was his only concern and he cared for his siblings greatly. They are a predictably diverse bunch:
    Terza, a fiery haired half-orc girl of unending mischief and the youngest living of the lot.
    Dinah, a slight raven haired human girl with too much curiosity for her own good.
    Farek, who likes to call himself Frek because of a slight speech impediment. This human boy has begun as an apprentice to a local leatherworker.
    Tannis, a tiefling boy that was an expert in hide and seek and always managed to get away with murder.
    Gerard, a sickly pale child who nonetheless grew and prospered with the voice of an angel.
    Tycho remembers well the names of his siblings that died: Danikah, Yuzha, Fergie and Mouse.

    The death of Mouse especially is still a deep regret of Tycho. She was the youngest and smallest of the children. A sweet girl with a radiant innocent smile. She used to sleep in Tycho's bed and they had a bond stronger than any. Until she fell ill. There was little to be done without money for a priest. Her death was the main cause that Tycho lost all faith. The day he buried Mouse's frail body in the frozen ground that winter was when he disavowed all gods as frauds and pointless puppet masters.

    When he was 12 he got hold of a job with the local blacksmith ferrying coal and manning the great bellows in the forge; unskilled labor that was ideally suited for his massive physique. It was a welcome change to the perpetual edge of destitution his family was used to.
    It was there he met the son of the garrison captain. The noble commander was visiting the blacksmith to negotiate repairs for his men's armors and Tycho was hauling in coal. The young men shared a look and both fell hard for each other. Tycho was 15 at the time, Gannymus the half elf noble's son was of comparable age. And oh how his father did not approve. Not one bit. Gann and Tycho snuk around for a year; midnight rendezvous under moonlight; secretive notes delivered through servants. It was a year of dangerous bliss. Until his father caught them. The older noble was furious, not only for the poor pedigree of his son's love interest but also for the threat this posed to his continued noble line. Tycho, awed and intimidated by the noble's title and standing didn't dare stand up to the man as he beat him with a cane. What hurt most though was Gann not standing up to his father either. Even as the guards dragged him away he sobbed not because of the physical pain but because of how betrayed he felt. The time he spent in the stockade gave him ample opportunity to nurture his disdain for the entire noble cast and feudal system as well as teach the fragility of non-familial bonds. Months passed and finally he was released with the clear message that he was no longer welcome in the settlement. He learned that Gann had left, or been sent away, to where he could not find out. He wanted to stay, to not abandon his family but the continued pressure of the constabulary made that impossible. It was a small comfort that two of his brothers had found employment; Farek worked for a leatherworker and Gerard was employed by a garrison wizard as a messenger.

    It was then that providence led him to the tavern of the next settlement where he encountered a contingent of Sundered Shields mercenaries. It took some convincing but by the next morning he had signed up and left with the men at arms. The squad's sergeant was a stern magus named Thracka who saw untapped magical potential in Tycho. He introduced Tycho to a collection of magic teachers but none were able to get Tycho to manifest any magic. On the martial front however Tycho was a natural, learning everything he could from the company's combat masters. As well as learning the dwarven tongue from Thracka. His time with the Sundered Shields was most productive and though he never returned home he did manage to send regular amounts of coin to his family. It was the least he could do.
    The complete absence of any kind of morality in the company weighed on him though. It bothered him that one day they were instruments of villainy while the next day they acted as protectors of the weak. After four years he left the company. On amicable terms but committed to make his own way, a less hypocritical way, in the world. This turned out much harder done than said though.

    He wandered aimlessly for a while. Never staying in one place for long. One of his weaknesses is his love for drink. After a whole night on one of his infamous drinking binges he got entangled in a fight with the local peacekeepers. Normally that would be that but fate had it that he managed to severely wound one of the guards. He was sentenced to prison, a punishment not unknown to him but didn't think it was particularly unjust, as usual. It was better than the gallows in any case. It did occur to him that either he was going to keep breaking the law and get better at not getting caught OR stop doing stupid illegal stuff altogether. If only he knew how to do either one. He was pleasantly surprised when he was brought before a magistrate and they offered him blood work in exchange for his freedom.
    There he is now, resigned to his punishment and determined to see it through. Not out of any love for the law but perhaps this new venture would lead him to better horizons than the ones he's seen so far.
    Quote Originally Posted by Personality
    Tycho doesn't talk very much and he is content to be with any people he knows, just hanging back without necessarily feeling the need to partake in conversations.
    He is confident in his physical capacity but where mental prowess and knowledge is concerned he will defer to others. He is aware of his own limitations. His words carry weight and he has a magnetic and rousing personality.
    Underneath his calm and stoic appearance slumbers an icy rage. While Tycho is slow to anger he never forgets past slights.

    In truth his motives are selfish. His actions are born from the viewpoint of himself. He fights when he wants to fight; to capture something he wants or perhaps to further his own ambition. He is not a cruel man and doesn't condone villainy but at the same time he views overly altruistic actions as naive and asking for disappointment.

    This moral ambiguity and apathy will undoubtedly get him into trouble as it already has, if not with the world at large then with his own languid conscience. It will take time and experience for him to change and grow.
    - Executor Divine Katharina Durmond - Rise of the Runelords
    - Freya 'Forcefox' DeVos - Power Corrupts
    - Tycho Boughbreaker - Fall of Melior

    - Against the Shadow - Pathfinder Midnight campaign
    - Chronicles of Misthaven - Pathfinder Homebrew campaign

  4. #4


    Smokebeak, Tengu Alchemist

    Smokebeak was the 4th of 7 children born to a poor herbalist in the poor section of Clare's third largest city. Growing up he showed interest in herbalism, so when he was old enough, he was apprenticed to a roving Alchemist.

    He loved Alchemy and enthusatically completed his apprenticeship in record time and used most of his funds to set up is own alchemy shop in a small village.Unfortunatly, no one in the village trusted the strange Tengu with a constant smell of chemicals and explosions coming from his his small shop He soon went out of business, and had to sell all of his things to pay debts. with his last 100 gold he purchased some travelling gear and set out for a new life as an adventurer where his alchemical training would be appreciated.

    Smokebeak is a short, heavyset tengu male with a pale grey beak about the color of campfire smoke from where he gets his name. Many of his feathers are singed from chemical burns and he always smells of chemicals.

    Smokebeak is a brash tengu with a wide streak of curiousity that often overpowers his common sense. He is constantly experimentign with whatever he finds to see what he can make, and trying to force the results off on his friends.
    Last edited by LakethePondling; 05-23-2019 at 02:03 AM.

  5. #5
    Join Date
    Dec 2010
    California, USA



    Character Name:
    Redfang "Red" Bloodmar


    Vital Stats:
    Age: 20
    Height: 6'-1"
    Weight: 150lbs
    Race: Skinwalker [Witchwolf]
    Class: Witch [Cartomancer]
    Ideal Party Roles: Buffer/Debuffer, Fortune Teller, Magic-User

    Sheet Link:
    Redfang "Red" Bloodmar

    Redfang Bloodmar, or "Red" as he prefers to be called, hails from The Dark Forest where he was born into a family of witchwolves seeking to distance themselves from the legends and stigma of violent werewolves. Although raised in a strongly hierarchical home with clearly defined Alpha rolls, independence and creativity were always encouraged. Due to the nomadic nature of the family, Red was often exposed to trading posts and small settlements which afforded him a chance to see a world larger than the homeland boundaries and, as his parents hoped, beyond the darkness of The Dark Forest. Recognized for his natural intellect while still young, Red's youth was spent learning the traditions of his people and learning the fortune teller's trade of his mother. Save for the secret of his people's ancestry, Red's youth seemed indistinguishable from any other nomadic youth. Hard work, family values, gatherings of family and friends, late night revelries, laughter, lean times and plenty, all seemed normal until the cards spoke to him.

    Misfortune and sorrow, that's what the cards kept repeating. No matter how many times he shuffled the deck, no matter how many times he tried his own fortune, it came back the same cards, the same fortune. Camped outside of a little village, Red headed toward the city square just after sunset. His father would be selling wares and his mother offering her services as a fortune teller to anyone who could scrape up the coin to afford a telling. She'd have the answers. Red reached the village center and it seemed the whole town had shown up. A local festival was underway and what meager coins the people had were held loosely as the festivities wore on and the people were milling about with energy even as the stars and moon rose overhead. That's when misfortune struck. Red was not unaware of his family's secret, of the nature of his bloodline. However he was several years past the Age of Revealing and had lost the fear of ever being exposed. Now with the moon overhead Red felt the rush of bloodlust and power that was his heritage and to his everlasting horror, he changed. He barely escaped, they, barely escaped. It took months for the wounds of that night to heal and years for the nightmares to ease. Red had become secretive about his nature, preferring to hid the truth than reveal it if it meant avoiding pain, real or imagined.

    The years that followed were difficult, the family had to move further afield to keep ahead of rumors. Going back to the Clan wasn't an option, not after his father had won the position of Alpha only to walk away, lingering too long in one place tempted the fates. With younger siblings to think of, and the cards urging him to move on. Red packed his bags and with tearful goodbyes, struck out on his own. Turns out fortune telling isn't all that much in demand. Striking out as a lone wolf, Red befriended whom he wished and avoided more dangerous fare. His way with the cards bought him a brief stint with a merchant caravan that saw a little action in the form of a bandit raid. The bandits suffered from an unfortunate series of accidents and false starts while the merchant company fared far better. When Red informed his employer that the fortune was his doing, he received a hearty guffaw and threat of reduced pay for "doing nothing". Apparently cursing your boss with bad luck is taboo in most employment situations and Red found himself moving on in search of something more fulfilling. Most of all he missed his family and having companions. The clink of coin and the promise a warm meal wasn't a bad thing either.

    Red is often gregarious around others desiring friendship, but always wary of getting too close. He is protective of the deck of harrow cards he owns, the worn cards are old and passed down through several generations of his family. His confidence in the cards is often seen as overly superstitious a claim that isn't entirely untrue. Although he has a preference toward altruism, Red has a predator's hunger waiting for an excuse to unleash.

    Red is often confused about himself, uncertain about what world he really wants to live in. For all his industriousness, he can be remarkably lazy. Preferring to hide the wolf inside with a laugh and smile and keep it caged behind idle hands. It's kept him alive this far, but really he's more than that. He's often motivated by fear yet he desires to be fearless.

    Red is much like his cards. One never quite knows what to expect what will turn up. Today an easy smile, tomorrow a ruthless outburst. Time and experience will help him even things out, maybe. Depends on what the cards hold.
    Last edited by Doc-Holiday; 05-27-2019 at 03:33 AM.

  6. #6
    Join Date
    Sep 2014
    Southern California, USA
    Blog Entries



    Character Name:


    Vital Stats:
    Age: 22
    Height: 3'11"
    Weight: 77 lbs.
    Race: Ratfolk
    Class: Theologian (Cleric archetype) of Furor
    Ideal Party Roles: Debuffer, Blaster

    Sheet Link:

    When asked, those who know Riggett will sum him up with a story from his youth. Though it may be apocryphal, it nevertheless is true to the man. Born the runt of his litter in a dusty corner of Novraev, the ratfolk pup would escape the din of his family hut by scrambling to the tops of the city walls, peering out into the rolling grassland, daring to dream of a world beyond his modest life. Every day he would climb those walls and peer out, and every day he would evade hungry ravens. He watched the seasons and the weather change—the wind, the rain, the snow, the tornados, but the course of his life was ultimately set by a thunderstorm. Dark, mountainous clouds released a bright flash, and a sharp crack of thunder announced impending doom. To the young Riggett, this gift from Furor would have been enough, but there was more to come. His heart thumped in his chest, and his eyes twinkled as the smallest bits of orange and yellow caught his focus. The subsequent wildfire would have burned down half the city were it not for the valiant efforts of the hobgoblin fire brigade. Riggett's friends will tell you that it was on that day that the course of Riggett's life and devotion to the Maelstrom was set, and they might be right. Riggett himself will wave his hand and offer a different account. Perhaps it was an explosion in a nearby alchemist's lab, or induction into a goblinoid street gang. The story is never the same, and the ending is never different.

    Riggett is amicable toward those he knows and hostile towards those he doesn't. In either case, he is always enthusiastically so. He is quick in the tongue and slight in his step, but around displays of elemental might he grows uncharacteristically quiet, caught in awe. Unless, of course, he is the source of such elemental might—then one will observe a giddiness on the verge of mania.
    Last edited by theScrappy; 05-24-2019 at 09:21 PM.

  7. #7
    Join Date
    May 2017
    Bariloche, Argentina
    Blog Entries


    Lazarz Vengeraev!



    Click me!

    Physical Description:
    Long-limbed, tall and gaunt-looking, this singing warrior has in fact a very wiry musculature and shoulders like boulders. That's right, those are not shoulder pads. His absent look and slightly hunched posture are both telling signs of long confinement and of the creeping tendrils of dementia setting in. Multiple scars tell of old battles, won, lost, and forgotten. He dons an old iron armour haphazardly put together. His messy, long streaks of hair and his worn furs and leathers don't obscure his dignified, solemn air.

    Vital Stats:
    Age: 34
    Height: 6'3"
    Weight: 170lbs
    Race: Hobgoblin
    Class: Skald

    Character Sheet:


    Lazarz's days of glory took place outside Novraev, as he belonged to a group that joined the New Law later in history. And so he made a name and a living by striking panic in the hordes of the enemy with blade and song in the southern badlands. There is a special kind of anger that can turn one into a skald, and no amount of splitting skulls open will properly release it. It needs to be said. Lazarz knew how.

    Hobgoblins, all their shortcomings notwithstanding, know better than to frown upon a soldier's quirks. This one had a prodigious memory and contributed in no small manner to the budding libraries and written records of the young hobgoblin nation: songs and legends, myths and history.

    But Lazarz was also a warrior. The angry fluttering of standards in the battlefield. The drumming as the armies marched onwards. The war horn announcing death and glory. Such things would turn a younger Lazarz into a demon of song and a leader of war. Surprising those who knew and respected him, his frenzy once seized him during peacetime and wouldn't let go; for more five years he raved, locked up, his beautiful singing voice torn by the constant shouting. Thus he wasted away in isolation, their wardens not daring to kill him, for what would he have to say about the hells he was visiting upon his return?

    By the time the wardens noticed that he had regained his senses, a couple of days had passed. He had been training and rehearsing, eating and drinking in silence, making no objections. The day he saw it fit, he declared that he was ready to leave. By then, of course, all his worldly possessions where no longer his, and neither was his military rank. He didn't object to that, either.

    After adapting again to the real world around him, he requested a formal audience with the authorities. It was granted. He left Novaraev shortly afterwards, perhaps to die, perhaps to avoid being a burden to society again, should he relapse. Did he say anything of importance to the triumvirate before setting out? Hard to tell. He may have forgotten it already.

    On the roads of Melior, the warrior sings.


    Authoritative and outspoken, he has a short temper and a sharp tongue, with a blade to match. He takes care of those travelling with him and although he could spin tales or discuss ideas for hours, he is not one for small talk.
    Last edited by Alcazar QZR; 05-30-2019 at 12:51 PM.

  8. #8
    Join Date
    Aug 2014
    Arkansas, Central Time
    Blog Entries


    Player: GhoulRising

    Character Name: Aldona Drachmann

    Vital Stats
    Height- 5'9"
    Weight- 152 lbs
    Race- Human
    Class- Fighter (will take two levels, then multiclass into cleric and Holy Vindicator prestige class)
    Ideal Party Roles- Frontline warrior, Tank (later on healer and support caster)


    Much like others born into her social class in Arax, Aldona did not have many opportunities in life. Her father, while a successful blacksmith for the miners working nearby had only just managed to have three children in his old age with her younger mother, one boy and two girls. The long gap between his rapidly fading abilities and the youthful strength and lack of skill in his children meant that all of his skills might not be passed on in time. This caused him to work Aldona's brother Roland to the bone, attempting to cram a lifetimes's worth of experience into a young body as soon as he could. Unfortunately this haste resulted in a metalworking accident as the fumes from a new alloy billowed into Roland's lungs, causing him to scream and collapse onto the ground. Aldona rushed her brother to the nearest church she could find and frantically pledged anything in her power in exchange for her brother being healed. Without a second thought the priest called on Niliri and with Her divine power halted the deterioration of the young boy's body. Damage was still done and beyond the newly frocked priests ability to reverse yet it was enough to allow Roland to work again- but only in short shifts. The accident shocked Aldona's father and woke him to the danger he had put his only son in. Filled with regret he visibly eased up on the young man and began again, but slower and more thorough. Satisfied that her brother was out of danger Aldona returned to the church and asked about how she should pay what she owned. The priest replied that help was needed for a small group of priests traveling through the village to the warzone between Durvale and Arax, and with her strength and endurance from helping her father over the years alongside her brother she would be an asset for the mission. She joyously accepted and immediately returned home to inform her family about the repayment of the debt. Instead of sighs of relief and blessings for her journey she was met with wails of sorrow from her mother and silent fist clenching from her father. They knew why the mission required more bodies- because every journey always ended with many of the members never returning from the battlefield. Yet after a long night of pleading and repeated reminders of their debt to the church Aldona set out in the morning with a few gifts from her family. An old set of armor and a mace from her father, and a journal to write in from her mother. She waved goodbye and set out on the first journey away from home she had ever made, in the company of people she hardly knew, into a place she should never have gone.

    As the weeks passed and the group of pilgrims, clerics and guards roamed the battlefields and back lines of the Regicide War what she saw changed Aldona. The clerics were more concerned with healing the injuries rather than helping to address the cause of them. They ignored the big picture for what was in front of them, even to the point of passivity with any and all conflict. The disconnect between their vows to help the injured and their hesitation to step in and halt the wounds being created caused Aldona to question their mission. Why would they not help the forces of Arax and drive back the soldiers of Durvale? Would there not be less injuries if they helped stop the war? Aldona became more and more vocal about taking an active role in the war effort, not simply being a passive bystander. Eventually the head priest of the chapter offered her a way out- if she could find someone to take her on, she could join the fight in a much more active manner. Finally allowed to try out her beliefs Aldona ran from unit to unit, searching for someone who would take on a nineteen year old with no fighting experience. She was ejected from group after group as no one was willing to take her on as they were sure she would die in the first few minutes of the fighting and be a waste of training and gear. But finally she discovered a chapter of Farail paladins and clerics mustering for an offensive. As the clerics exhorted the people in the group to stand and become the shield of Arax, to stop the Durvalans from slaying more of their brothers and sisters, to end this period of lawlessness and chaos the fire inside Aldona lit for the first time. Without a care she joined them as the chapter strode into battle, hymns roared above the clash of arms as spears and maces lashed out at the soldiers of Durvale. She stood as close as she could to the frontlines, supporting her newfound brothers and sisters in arms with her mace and shield. The sheer furvor of the chapter led to them breaking through the battleline, allowing the cavalry of Arax to sweep through and route the enemy. Once the fervor faded away the the clerics were among their members with their prayers and blessings, one of them inquired with some surprise as who this young lady was. Sheepishly Aldona admitted being swept up in the emotional tide and following along without even knowing who she joined. Laughing the cleric told her she had joined the Order of the Sunrise, a small chapter of the church of Farail that had found their place on the battlefield.

    Seeing how well she meshed with the group Aldona joined them officially and began to see the change she had always wanted. Evil would not be tolerated, but smote. If there was injustice seen a member would confront the perpetrator, and if needed stop them from committing it ever again. For a time it was the most religious and fulfilling experience Aldona had ever had. Until the day came where a message was received that the chapter had been recalled back to their original church, and would be leaving the battlefield behind. After a long goodbye with promises to meet up again Aldona left the chapter to travel back home to share her earnings with her family. She found them in good health, but as always lacking in income as her father's health declined even further. So once more the young woman headed out into the world to help support her family and right the wrongs she found there.


    Serious, bordering on stern. She sees the world as filled with problems people can fix, they are just too lazy or lack the conviction to do so. Has a lot of trouble ignoring evil of any degree and will go out of her way to help those in need. If she cannot solve a problem herself she attempts to appeal to others sense of righteousness, which has mixed results. This self-imposed mission to stamp out evil causes her a lot of stress, which she resolves through copious amounts of tobacco, her only vice that she picked up from a fellow member of the Order. She has considered alcohol in the past but decided against it after seeing too many drunk soldiers.
    Last edited by GhoulRising; 05-29-2019 at 10:29 PM.

    “Defend the weak, protect both young and old, never desert your friends. Give justice to all, be fearless in battle and always ready to defend the right."

    —The law of Badger Lords”
    Brian Jacques, Lord Brocktree


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