Kobin Roshada

A member of the Church of the Silver Flame, Kobin seeks to eliminate the demons of his world - both without, and within...

Description:

Kobin Roshada
- Half-Elf
- Cleric / Monk (1 / 1)

STR 14 (2)
DEX 15 (2)
CON 17 (3)
INT 15 (2)
WIS 18 (4)
CHA 16 (3)

FORT 6
REFL 4
WILL 7

AC 18
BAB 0
INIT 2

Melee +2
Ranged +2
Grapple +2

Weapons:
Masterwork Quarterstaff (1d6 / 1d6) [+1 to hit roll]
Sai [x2] (1d4 x2)

Class Features
- Domains:
– Exorcism
– Good
– Knowledge
– Protection

- Spells
– Lvl 0: 3
– Lvl 1: 2

Racial Traits
- Immune to sleep spells
- +2 saves to enchantments
- Low light vision
- +1 to Search, Spot, Listen
- +2 to Diplomacy, Gather Information

Feats
- Stunning Fist

Bio:

Family History

My father and mother, Risan Borasi and Lila Juras, were born in the Eldeen Reaches. Their home was Watercrest, a small Elven and Human settlement north-east of Merylsward, along the waters of the Eldeen Bay. They were a community of farmers and herders, living with the land and sharing in its bounty. Separated from the larger settlements and major towns of the Eldeen Reaches, struggle and hardship were present in everyday life. Little support came from the government. Even so, they made due, and appreciated what they did have.

The demons came on the 16th of Sypheros, 973 YK.

Crossing from the Demon Wastes, dozens of monstrous creatures flooded into the town just before dawn.
They slaughtered their herds. They burned their houses. They torched their fields. They butchered any townsperson not healthy, fit, or lucky enough to escape. My father was one of 14 men who took up arms to defend them, distracting the overwhelming numbers of demonic beings from the fleeing innocent. In the chaos, six horse-drawn carts were saved by these mens’ bravery. My mother, pregnant with me, was on the last to escape, rescued by her neighbors from the rubble of her home.

My father… My father was not seen again.

With the family of farmers whom she escaped with, Lila traveled south-east, away from the plumes of smoke and Abyssal screeches behind her. She promised to protect me from all dangers in the world. The safest place she could think of was Thrane, where the Church of the Silver Flame would keep them safe from the evils she had vividly encountered, and had taken her husband from her.

My Story

I was born in Flamekeep, on Sar, Olarune 23rd, 974 YK. In my early years, my mother became a zealot of the Church, dedicating much of her energy and money to supporting its institutions. She eventually became an ordained preacher, spreading the word of the Church to small congregations throughout Flamekeep. My bedtime stories were always about a hero conquering hordes of demons, and she never let me forget the sacrifice my father made to save us.

When I became of age (13), my mother encouraged me to join the Church’s Legion. I felt empowered by the bravery and strength my father showed, and in his honor, I agreed. After five years of training, I was fully initiated and ordained. As is traditional, one takes a new name to replace their family identity – I chose the name Roshada, which means “Father’s Footsteps”. This was one of the proudest moments of my life. My mother still swears she saw Risan present at the ceremony.

I was immediately sent to the front lines of the War – clerics and their healing spells were in high demand. However, my age and inexperience made me completely unprepared for the violence and hatred I would face in the field. My devotion to protecting the weak, and bravely facing evil, were the only things that kept me alive and sane. My dreams were filled with the visions of what could have been, if the monsters of the Demon Wastes had never come…

One powerful experience I had was of the Warforged. I saw them abused and rejected by mortal beings, and always felt they deserved much more respect than were ever given on the battlefield. I was one of the few mortals that ever spoke friendly to them, providing me with a unique opportunity to experience the life and personality of these beings. One in particular, 319, was as fascinated by me as I was by them. We shared many ideas about life and existence, as we both searched for meaning and understanding. Our friendship continued until their platoon left mine, a year before the end of the war. Before they departed, they shared with me their first major decision – a new name and gender, which they wanted to adopt when the war was finished. I wonder if they are still alive….

I also was only 130 miles west of Cyre, when the Great Shaking rippled through the land. What I felt and what I saw on the eastern horizon that day, is something I still fear speaking of…. Even my military report is false, for fear of what the Church may think of my experience….

By the time the war had ended, I was 24 and exhausted, spiritually and physically. I returned to the Church to find it a changed organization. My youthful enthusiasm had blinded me to the political games the church played, with its members and with Thrane as a whole. As an adult, I saw it as corrupted, influenced by the wealthy and privileged, drifting from its nature of protection and order. My mother, still a firm zealot, rejected my perspective and maintained utter devotion to the Church. The loss of my father, and her fear of the Demonic, had clouded her reasoning and led her into paranoid darkness.

Conflicted by my experiences of war, I struggled with the path I had chosen. Was this the life my father would have wanted for me? Were the deeds I had done for the Legion in keeping with my values? Had I really been fighting evil, or protecting the interests of the elite? I grew to hate Thrane, and the Church I had dedicated my life to. My mother would have disowned me, if I was not the only connection she had left to my father – regardless, she dismissed me and sent me away. I wandered, living off the kindness of fellow Church members as I traveled west, and then south.

One morning, I woke to find myself in the company of a monk, sitting silently by the dwindling embers of my fire. Noticing my shock, he spoke. “You don’t know me, but I know you”, he told me. As I cautiously joined the monk, I asked how this was so. “I have had visions”, he shared, “visions of a sprout struggling to grow. Cast over it was a great shadow, its darkness strangling the small sprout. No matter how the sprout leaned and shifted, the shadow held the sunlight at bay – I knew that the sprout would perish if it did not overcome this obstacle. Whispers of ‘Roshada’ have filled my mind, and I knew it was by divine will that I seek this sprout. I believe that is you, yes?” I found myself laughing at the story, but not because I found it foolish, but because I found it auspicious. After two months of wandering, in his company, I felt peace. This was my first encounter with my friend and teacher, Komasu Nesala.

Nesala was the Master of Records at a small monastery in Breland, just outside of Woodhelm. I was brought to Eagna Ceilte (meaning “Purity of Faith”), where the monks practiced the art of the Sacred Fist. I was taught that my body was the purist gift of life, and the ultimate tool in defeating evil. Through meditation and practice of the Martial Arts, I could purify my mind and body, and become a vessel for the Divine Fire; of which no evil can stand against. In meditation, I found peace and insight – in martial practice, I found strength and dedication.

For two years, I practiced and learned with the monks of Eagna Ceilte. I learned the value and sacredness of life, and came to understand the connection to divinity that all living things shared. My desire for violence had diminished, though not my hatred of the demonic. Nesala once shared with me: “Life is in constant struggle with death – and each manifests physically. Demons are the harbingers of death… They are born of it, and create it everywhere they go. We are the defenders of life – and like fire, we go forth and burn the creations of death into purity. As we burn, they transform into smoke, and rise to the heavens – released from their binds of hate and death. Remember this always, Kobin – you must control the fire, burn only the impure, and cleanse the world for the sake of all life.”

After two years, I felt ready to initiate into the Order. I approached Nesala, and to my surprise, he flatly rejected my request. After all my training, I was shocked by his unkind and dispassionate response. I demanded an explanation. “Life is not all good, Kobin. You must learn to accept all beings of life with equal respect – in its many forms and attitudes. If you wish to embody the great power of the Divine Fire, you must be of pure mind – you must know how to direct this force with pure mind, heart, and soul.” Realizing his words were correct, I asked what he felt I should do. “Go to Sharn. There are few places better in the world to encounter such a diversity of life.”

After two days here, I’m understanding what he really meant. This city’s dizzyingly-tall towers provide environments for all walks of life, and is a melting pot of attitudes. I’ve already smelled smells that will haunt me for as long as I live. Nesala’s wisdom is unsurpassed, matched only by his sense of humor…. But my accommodations are adequate, and I’ve met some interesting characters. My first night here, I met a young Elf at the bar – she was enticingly charismatic, and we somehow ended up on a booze-filled bar hop across Sharn, stretching nearly till dawn… Needless to say, I didn’t handle my Orcish Wine very well. I hope Nesala doesn’t hear about this, or I’ll be the laughing stock of the monastery.

This morning, I came out for breakfast to find a Warforged sitting silently at a table. As I sat and ate breakfast, I contemplated introducing myself, being the first of its kind I had seen in years. I wonder if they knew 319?

I returned from morning meditation to find them gone – but the bartender says they went south, towards the Goblin Marketplace. I hope I can catch up with them and make their acquaintance…

Kobin Roshada

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