Lvl. 1 Monk, Wields staff or unarmed, Lawful Good (Mostly), Arachnophobic
Phocaeas Caelorum (Parthia alias: Darius)
Lawful Good Human Monk
Knows Languages: Common, Dryad
HP:9 AC:10 Move: 15"
- Strength -16 —HP:0 DA:+1 WA: +350 ODOA: 1-3 BB/LG: 10%
- Intelligence – 9 — 1 Additional Language
- Wisdom -18 —MAA: +4
- Dexterity -17 —RAA +2 DA: -3
- Conditioning -15 —HPA: +1 SSS: 91% RS: 94%
- Charisma -13 —MNH: 5 LB: normal RA: normal
Can block or dodge missiles if a petrification save is made
Takes no damage from attack forms if saving throw is made
Can’t wear armor
Has Thief skills:
1. Open Locks 25+10=35%
2. Find/Remove Traps 20%
3. Move Silently 15+5=20%
4. Hide in Shadows 10+5=15%
5. Hear Noise 10%
6. Climb Walls 85%
—Bo Staff W:1.5lbs Sm-M: 1-6 L+: 1-3
—Open hand fighting does 1-3 damage at 1st level
Small Sack (equipped)
-Standard Rations 1wk
-Tinder Box w/ Flint and Steel
White Tunic with key pattern of turquoise on hem (equipped)
White cloak with turquoise open square pattern with red diamonds in the squares (equipped)
hardened leather sandals (equipped)
Bo staff (equipped)
Name: Phocaeas Caelorum
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Plum
Generally Resembles western Greek or High Persian stock
Wears his hair at neck length, has a scruffy travelers beard.
Fairly thin and light on his feet.
Short nose, Jutting jawline, high cheekbones
Phocaeas is of Lawful Good alignment, as befits a monk.
He does not make an effort to stamp out injustice or chaos where he finds it, as a paladin might, but does practice the self control and discipline that he learned at the monastery.
He generally tries to be Good, and in his heart he is benevolent, even if he must sometimes put his “duty” before morality.
He is arachnophobic and insectophobic, and will not willingly go near spiders or insects unless he is bound to.
He enjoys coffee, fruits and other sweets (perhaps more than he should, given his discipline)
He also likes ancient ruins, Relics and artifacts, and foreign cultures.
Phocaeas is rather enlightened and wise beyond his years, however his semi-cloistered upbringing has left him slightly slow to learn new things and naive to the ways of the world. However, this has been somewhat remedied with his last two years spent wandering in his native world.
He is very dexterous and skilled in the ways of his order, which is bolstered by his not-insignificant strength and conditioning.
He, like the order he was raised in, worships as his patron Pelor, the shining one, sun god of the people of Myrsani empire.
Phocaeas is particularly devout, but is not adverse to being respectful of and praying to the gods and spirits of the lands he passes through and his travelling companions.
Because of his backstory, Phocaeas has dedicated himself to Pelor and feels a vague sense of “duty” to travel the world. He does not know what his duty is, but goes where fate leads him and tries to do right by those he interacts with on the journey.
The Cenobii Solaris Excellentiam, the Monastary of solar excellence, is set in the foothills of the Aedira province of the continent sized Imperium Myrsanorum, the Myrsani Empire.
The monastery is on the low slopes of the great Mt. Plenus. It is a rich place, trading the wines, oils, dates, and olives that it produces with the nearby shepherding villages. The monks venerate Pelor, the Empire’s patron, as the bringer of light, strength, and abundance.
Most of the monks originated from the nearby hinterland, some came from further afield, places like the arid Tandersik trading cities or the insulae of Myrsa itself. The monks serve as peacemakers, arbiters, scholars, and especially priests of the surrounding province and the empire at large.
More than a score of years previously, the fifteenth emperor of Myrsa, Eocheric, declared the worship of Pelor illegal, forbade noontime business, and violently persecuted Pelor and the rest of the Myrsani pantheon in the name of a new dark god of his own devising.
The oracles of the great sun temples screamed out the prophecy that those who defended Pelor’s devotees would be duly rewarded. Some monasteries and temples refused to comply with the imperial edicts and were laid waste.
The imperial 18th praetorii legion was sent to silence the monks of the Cenobii solaris excellentiam. When the monks refused, the legion started to ravage the surrounding countryside. A party of monks was dispatched to save the nearby villages and stop the legion, which was being led on its pogrom by Emperor Eocheric himself.
The monks attacked during a solar eclipse and defeated the emperor and his Nyctae retainers.
After Eocheric’s death, the Myrsan senate seized control of the state back from the monarchy, establishing the third Myrsan republic. They quickly reversed Eocheric’s actions and peace returned to the land. The screaming oracles gave a final prophecy, that that which is rewarded must one day be returned, and fell mercifully silent.
A few months later, an unknown newborn with bright plum eyes arrived on the steps of the monastery in a golden basket and illuminated by one of the few shafts of sunlight on what was a rather cloudy day, which inspired his surname, the monks called him Caelorum, or “of-the-sky/ heavenly”
Phocaeas was raised uneventfully, just the same as the other initiates his age. He learned to work the vineyards and orchards around his home, and to process the olives into oil and grapes into wine. He learned to speak Myrsani (common) and Dyrad, which is seen as a sacred language by the Monks, who live near the high woods and speak with the trees and animals. He learned how to use his hands to fight and effectively attack and travel with his Bo staff.
He was rather cloistered inside the monastery, but enjoyed reading stories of the history of Myrsa and the barbarians that surround it. He only left when his master traded with the nearby villages for cheese, fruits, and breads to support the monastery.
Finally, sometime in his 22nd year, the elder masters of the monestary started to spend more time of him and they tried to impart some of their wisdom and enlightenment onto the eager Phocaeas. This was unusual, but Phocaeas did not pay the special attention much thought.
A few months later, the elders spoke of the last prophecy given by Pelor’s oracles, and finally told Phocaeas the story of his arrival at the monastery. They told Phocaeas that he must leave during the coming solar eclipse, “returned”, and may not return to stay at his lifelong home until he fulfills his duty.
Phocaeas was understandably upset, but he had long felt that his duty to the world lay elsewhere, and brighter skies always seemed to lay just over the horizon. He accepted the fate that seemed to have been ordained for him, and left when the shadow hid Pelor’s light from the world.
He wandered for many days and nights, serving the lawful side of the empire and working against it where it was corrupted. He traveled constantly, and when he felt that he had done what he was fated to do in a place, he moved on.
He traveled up past the hills of Mt. Plenus to the tropical northern valleys of the Garatian dwarves and their peak dwelling Yeti enemies, where he helped mediate a peace between the long suffering city-states of both races (a peace which will surely not last).
From there Phocaeas wandered south-west to the desert of Tandersik, newly subjugated by the Myrsani Empire, who have maintained the old order of a desert trader plutocracy of humans and camel-men, beneath which lay an even more ancient underclass of desert halflings. He helped maintain order in the Bazaars and salt lake port villages of the Tandersik province, while simultaneously lobbying for the halflings’ rights and attempting to root out a perverted form of the halfling cult of Dennari, lady of those oppressed, which was inspiring sectarian and revolutionary violence led by halfling millenialist fanatics such as the revolutionary Ba Za’ad.
Phocaeas was of course no master in his arts, he was barely a novice, yet there was still some skill in him that the common man lacked, and his sometimes surprising wisdom has aided him at every turn. He traveled wherever Pelor guided him, whether through signs and portents, or through prophetic dreams.
After a year and a half of being not-quite-lost, Phocaeas came to the gates of the island city of Transponti, in the Bay of Myrsa. It was a wondrous city, where the wealth of the whole empire flowed through on the way to the imperial capital. The cityscape was still very alien to Phocaeas, and he wandered gawking past great apartment insulae and anti-elven propaganda, the glorious litters of the rich and the pitiful cries of the poor, looming spires upon each temple of the Myrsani gods, and in their shadow great slave markets selling halflings, half-orcs, and goblins.
Phocaeas was not a rich man, but he did what he could to help the poor and worked to improve their condition, however the aristocracy that had their villae on the island began to paint him as a rogue in order to stop his meddling with the poor and eventually bribed the city scribes to put out a warrant for Phocaeas’ arrest on trumped up treason charges. Phocaeas went into hiding in a tavern near the dock just as, once more, a solar eclipse began.
Word spread quicker than thought among the poor, the slaves, and the oppressed in Transponti that one of the only people to publicly help them had disappeared, and it was believed that the senators that were staying on the island had kidnapped him and executed him without trial. A half-orc gladiator slated to die with almost fifteen hundred others in a great eclipse-deathmatch, who was named Xiuhcoatl, began to chant that his god of the night, Yohualli, was aiding the gladiators against the primarily sun worshiping Myrsani. This sparked a revolution, first the gladiators killed the Myrsani civilians in the arena, twenty thousand in all, and then spread outward from the grand hippodrome, slaughtering anyone who looked Myrsani and recruiting the oppressed into their cause.
The sun was blotted out, people were being massacred, the temples and houses were burning, lynchings led by both sides decorated every street corner. It seemed to be the end of the world.
The sun was not returning, the solar eclipse, which typically lasted but minutes, continued for days without an end in sight.
Phocaeas could not leave the tavern, if the Myrsani saw him, they would kill him as a revolutionary if they saw him, and if the newly formed (half) city-state of Ezo All Tepetl, saw him, he would be killed for being human, sacrificed on a blood altar to sustain the long night.
The two factions were in a stalemate, and the Myrsani Empire blockaded the city to prevent news of the revolt getting to the empire at large. Phocaeas was trapped.
In this dark time, he seemed fated to die in obscurity without a final glimpse of Pelor’s light. However, he knew without knowing that his greater duty lay elsewhere, and that his time in the city was at an end.
That was when he met the recruiter…