edit- annnd.. stats! After talking with the GM a bit, decided to take a level in ranger to make some of the backstory less handwavy<br/><br/>Amon-Tir<br/><br/>Lawful Good<br/>Ranger1/Paladin 3<br/>Human<br/>Male<br/>Medium<br/>21 Years old<br/>6'3"<br/>Black hair<br/>Green Eyes<br/><br/>Strength 16<br/>Dexterity 15<br/>Constitution 14<br/>Intelligence 14<br/>Wisdom 14<br/>Charisma 18<br/><br/>AC: 21 (+5 armor, +2 Dex, +3 shield, +1 ring) Touch: 15 Flat-Footed: 20<br/>Hit Points: 40<br/>Speed: 30 feet<br/>Initiative: +2<br/><br/>Fortitude: +11<br/>Reflex: +9<br/>Will: +9<br/><br/>Base Attack Bonus: +4<br/>Combat Manuever Bonus: +7<br/>Combat Manuever Defense: 20 (10+str+dex+def+BAB)<br/><br/>Attacks:<br/>+1 Longsword +8 (1d8+4, 19-20/x2)<br/>Alchemical Silver Heavy Mace +7 (1d8+3, x2)<br/>Spiked Gauntlet +7 (1d4+3, x2)<br/>Comp Longbow +6 (1d8+3, x3)<br/><br/>Skills:<br/>Perception +11<br/>Diplomacy +11<br/>Sense Motive +11<br/>Survival +8<br/>Climb +8<br/>Stealth +8<br/>Knowledge History +4<br/>Swim +7<br/>Ride +7<br/>Heal +9<br/>Intimidate +10<br/>Languages:<br/>Common<br/>Osirion<br/>Ignan<br/><br/><br/>Feats:<br/>1-Combat Expertise<br/>1-Power Attack<br/>2-Cleave<br/>3-Alertness<br/><br/>Special Abilities:<br/>Track +1<br/>Wild Empathy +5<br/>Favoured Enemy  (Outsider (evil))<br/>Aura of Good<br/>Smite Evil 1/day<br/>Lay on Hands 5/day (1d6, mercy: fatigued)<br/>Divine Grace<br/>Aura of Courage<br/>Divine Health<br/><br/>Talents: Armor Expert, Rich Parents<br/><br/>Equipment:<br/>+1 Chain Shirt<br/>Alch Silver Heavy Mace<br/>Composite Longbow (+3 Str)<br/>40 Arrows<br/>100ft Silk Rope<br/>10 Pitons<br/>Grappling Hook<br/>Bullseye Lantern<br/>10 pints of Oil<br/>Backpack<br/>Sunrod<br/>Waterskin<br/>Signal Whistle<br/>2 sacks<br/>Healer's kit x2<br/>Map Case x2<br/>Absalom Area Maps (100gp)<br/>+1 Longsword<br/>Ring of Protection +1<br/>Flint and steel<br/>+1 Mithral Heavy Steel Shield<br/>Spiked Gauntlet<br/>Ink<br/>inkpen<br/>10 sheets paper<br/>empty flask<br/>tindertwig x2<br/>bedroll<br/>chalk x2<br/>charcoals<br/>signet ring<br/>whetstone<br/>soap<br/>Light Horse (combat trained)<br/>saddle bags<br/>riding saddle<br/>belt pouch<br/><br/>Money: 163 gold, 7 silver, 5 copper<br/><br/>Character Description: Tall and lithely muscled, Amon projects a sense of confidence and reassurance as a near palpable aura, offsetting what could have otherwise become a feel of the imposing about him. His green eyes are bright and warm in their gaze, set in bronze skinned features of a chiseled, leonine handsomeness and framed with a mane of thick black hair. When he moves, it is with a fusion of the courtier's grace and a soldier's precision. When he speaks, his voice is richly toned, and at times can feel resonant, as if the call of trumpets. It is as if the radiance of his soul gleams outward from him, in shining gaze, weapons, armour and speech.<br/><br/>Character Background:<br/><br/>Few people are as keenly aware of the responsibility and promise of the reborn legacy of Osirion as Amon-Tir, for it was his own family's history and pride alike returned to life along with the wider destiny of his nation entire. His had been a line of nobles draped in storied and great deeds. Of generals and high priests, heroes and legends. But as his nation fell to stagnation, so too did they, and when his nation fell to subjugation, they descended into ruin and poverty. There was nothing left to them but a fierce remembrance, of stories passed from father to son, of membership in ancient but now fringe cults just to keep bitter memories alive. Centuries of shame passed in such a manner. When the cry of restoration rang out through the land, none heard it so truly as the line of Tir, frayed, tattered stories woven back together to again inspire towards glory. Their voices shouted among the loudest for the Pharaoh's legitimacy, and with a convincing passion. In a coup that was not completely bloodless, where such fighting occurred, they were those throwing themselves to the front of conflicts.<br/><br/>Such devotion was richly rewarded, the family Tir ennobled once again, gathered up by Kehmet I to be among the symbols of promise that was both new and ancient. Amon never tired of hearing this story of his family told in increasingly vivid detail by a venerable grandfather who had been there for Khemet's rise. Of a faith in a nation and a people that had held true across millennia, and been rewarded at last. His grandfather would ever remind him that such reward should now come with a conviction to never again fall as they had before, to never again be conquered, to never lose their glory and pride, their preeminent place in the world. He delighted in these stories and morals as a child, taking them to heart and using them as a guiding star to live by.<br/><br/>It was Amon himself that seemed to be the embodiment of that reward and conviction both, as if he sprang directly from the ancient heroes of his line, shown in strong limbs, a keen and seeking mind, and with a sheer force of personality that radiated from within yet seemed to channel the primal beyond. Such quality could have made a man arrogant and filled personal ambition. For Amon, they were only greater reasons to serve his land, and developed in him a burning compulsion to do so. For it was Osirion itself that had allowed such lines as his to originally flourish, that had fostered such qualities for him to inherit. It was the pride of her people that brought about a national redemption that raised his family back up, for him to have an upbringing that nourished his strengths. His family, his Pharaoh, his nation deserved nothing less than his best, for him to strive to be his nation in microcosm, a restored and rising glory, a fusion of ancient wisdom, and energetic dynamism that could be a force for order and virtue in a world that seemed in so many places to lack for it. He believed, and his soul was radiant for it. He made use of his family's wealth to garner training in whatever he could drink in, from swordsmanship to history, seeking to refine a sanctified dedication to virtue that felt literally empowering from mystics and holy men.<br/><br/>His idealistic patriotism drove him to seek service in the armed forces of his nation, prevailing on his grandfather to pull strings to paradoxically insure that his social status did not get him any privileged ranking. It found him stationed in a border outpost where a more gnarled and grizzled commander placed there from disfavour found his teeth set on edge by this beardless boy and his relentless optimism. Amon found himself with the worst of possible duties, such as were normally reserved for those under punishment or reprimand of some kind. From digging out and cleaning latrines, to whatever backbreaking labour under the burning sun was available, it fell to Amon's (if at least increasingly toned for the endless strain of it) shoulders. And he did so without complaint, or faltering, or breaking. When a seething with frustrated fury commander demanded the why of it, the youth said simply and with calm.<br/><br/>"Though I know who should be set to them normally, these are duties that must be done all the same. Even the most odious of tasks in any great working must be done, lest others must be pulled from their own jobs to do them, in a cascading chain that sees a grand society that grows from the support of even the smallest tasks collapse for their lack. There is no shame in then in the grace of acts that preserve a functioning beyond the person doing them."<br/><br/>Incensed, his superior shifted gears, and had everyone around Amon given far more burdensome assignments, proclaiming the boy was accorded special treatment due to his higher birth, working to have Amon hated and spurned by those he served with. And it succeeded well enough, save for Amon enduring the disdain, curses, ostracism and occasional bruises (though he would defend himself in fights) without complaint, temper, curses, or a flagging of morale. In fury once more, his commander called Amon before him, and his explanation was given with the same ease and quiet self assurance as before.<br/><br/>"These men who hate me, and are burdened to the point of pain in their duties, succeed in them all the same, serve and endure all the same. And it is because of that hate of me. They have a unity they did not have before, a brotherhood between them that will serve them well on the battlefield or in campaign, long after their memories of me are gone. Though I would rather inspire that in them through hope and great deeds, their loathing is a small price for me to pay for strangers to become brothers."<br/><br/>Choking on rage, his commander moved Amon up to active service. Patrols in the worst locations, in the harshest environments, in the bloodiest of missions, with as little support as might be possible, hoping to see the boy maimed or mangled, sent to fear and trauma and flight along home.  Through will, skill and tenacity, Amon returned each time with objectives realized, even if with the pain of fresh injuries here and there, and the blood that would cover him sometimes his own. And when he was healed (or healed enough as his commander would allow), he went back out again. He was pressed into action again and again, to the point where he might have to crawl to return through fatigue, but he crawled all the same. Such convalescences as he could get often interrupted with thinly justified floggings or other punishments.  It rehabilitated his reputation with his brethren at least, as they saw at last deeds and bearing to inspire, a stoic endurance that awed them.<br/><br/>At long last, he was brought again before his leader, who was near ragged and red from the sheer force of the hate and rage he carried. And then Amon sincerely thanked him.<br/><br/>"I used to worry. That all my dreams were the fancies of a child. Beautiful, but only because they were shaped from glass and just as fragile. That they would not survive adversity, hardship, bloodshed and warfare, with the sight of my own people choosing their lesser impulses over their better ones. Now I know my dreams are forged in steel. Now I know I can live for them, die for them, lead men for them. I owe you more than I can ever repay in my lifetime, but I promise you, I will do everything I can to share the strength you have given me, back with you."<br/><br/>His commander demolished his own office in incoherent, feral anger, bringing a greatsword towards an unblinking, unflinching Amon (who it must be said was otherwise not in great shape to defend himself), who said just simply.<br/><br/>"If you kill me, you'll always remember who broke who, and it will consume you."<br/><br/>Amon was soon transferred after that, though the letter of commendation with it was a strange thing, saying just that "You cannot defeat this soldier, you can only kill him."<br/><br/>Amon's service since then has been as sterling as should be expected from a paladin, earning him an officer's commission (whatever one would be suitable). He is praised by those he serves with for inspiring the men around him to greater effort, and for heroic acts on behalf of pharaoh, land, and people.<br/><br/>His view of Osirion's occupation of Absalom is one of absolute need, given the nature of the other forces present, from infernalism to decadence. If his nation was not there, he might have requested of himself to travel out.  His is a great nation, where men who were one day in bondage have been manumitted to the point where a very Council of Liberated Slaves runs most of the nation, where a people languishing in stagnation have risen back to glory. These qualities are a strength and virtue the whole world can benefit from, and Absalom is where Osirion can show that for truth. He tempers his sorrow at the state of the city with a hope for the opportunities that can come.