The toughest thing to overcome in this week’s random rolls was the dexterity of seven,
but there was a lot of other great information to work with. Tying in the death
of his father with his divine birth was difficult. I had to find a love that he
could have and meant the world to him that was not an actual lover. Choosing a
class, however, is always the hardest part. This week I went with straight up
fighter.
Amunaltalu Smokehole
Born in the nation of Thuvia, Amunaltalu took his name from one of the small volcanic pockets that spewed smoke
near his family’s estate. His father was a well-respected sculptor, show pieces
were sought after by every noble and merchant prince. But behind the façade of
master artisan lurked a dark and violent man.
Throughout his childhood Amunaltalu’s father despised
him. One of the local seers always said he was destined for greater things and
although his father was a great success, he could not stand the thought of his
own son outdoing him. When he was born the priest said that Amunaltalu was
touched by the gods, that divine energy
had been infused in him. For this reason his father took out his anger on his
mother and occasionally his older sister.
All through his childhood he watched his father’s hidden
violence, but being chosen to be mentored by the very seers that said he would
amount to greater things meant that he could turn a blind eye. He spent his
life training for his purpose, to fight. Living and breathing the acrid smoke
of the very holes from which he took his name. Ensconced in heavy armor as the
fumes both poisoned and hardened him.
One night his mother had too much. She confided in her
son her pain, begged him to use his power to free her. Amunaltalu loved his
mother very much, but he only knew one way, violence. When his father was
asleep he murdered him. He crushed his progenitor’s skull with the shield
bought for him by the very same man. But murder is murder and although he felt
no guilt his mother bid him to flee.
The young warrior ran through Thuvia and across Rahadoum
to the land of the lost and forgotten, The Shackles. He settled into the city
of Neruma, which was not on the coast but deep on the mainland. He was one of
the few to realize that this was the land of the lizardmen and that their
strange beliefs permeated the land.
In the deep caverns below the land Amunaltalu found
solace. Here the same thick smoke that came from the belly of the earth that he
knew from childhood rose up. The boy felt a calling that opened up not just his
mind but the history of his genes. For the first time the blood of his Jann
manifested and called out to the old ones that inhabited this plane even before
the gods. His blood called to the fire and the volcanic smoke that flowed under
The Shackles.
Although the boy could now channel the elemental fire in
his blood and could hear the voices of the elder god known as Mhar, he was
never granted power by his god. Instead he was tasked with defending the
caverns and volcanic flow for the time when his master may rise again. Alone in
body, but not in spirit, Amunaltalu now waits and defends his master’s realm.
From the fires of the core of Golarion these bits of
information took shape, but what was your character? What class do these stats
and background coalesce into in your mind? How did this suli’s father die?
Where did the great old one Mhar sneak into his mind?
Bringing these character to life is a second full time
job. Contributions to my Patreon or Paypal help me invest more of that time
into creation instead of worrying about keeping the lights on. If you’d like to
support your favorite content provider – come on, that’s me, admit it – please
consider contributing.
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