Cevero Jinotega Martamian IV

Veteran, Patrician, Progressive


“Empower Within.” -Jinotega Mantra

Name: Cevero Jinotega Martamian IV
Level: Bard 5/Pathfinder Chronicler 2
Deity: Traditionally the Jinotega are followers of The Great Twelve. However, Cevero is open minded to the varied and radically different people across the Maran continent concerning their beliefs in the supernatural.
Homeland: Mara
Race: Human
Size: M
Gender: M
Age: 55
Height: 6’2"
Weight: 200 lbs.
Hair: Gray
Eyes: Blue
EXP: 20k/26k for lvl 8

STR: 9 (-1)
DEX: 8 (-1)
CON: 12 (1)
INT: 17 (3)
WIS: 16 (3)
CHA: 20 (5)

HP: 57
SPD: 6
Init: -1
FORT: 5 (4 vs Other Bards)
REF: 6 (
4 vs. Other Bards)
WILL: 8 (+4 vs. Other Bards)
BAB: 4
CMB: 4
CMD: 14

Class skills
Acrobats, BLuff, Craft, Disguise, Escape Artist, Intimidate, Perform, Profession, Spellcraft, Stealth

Knowledges: Arcana:15, Dungeoneering:15, Engineering:15, Geography:15, History:15, Local:15, Nature:15, Nobility:15, Planes:10, Religion:15
Perform (Oratory):13
Profession (Scribe):16
Ride: 5
Sense Motive(V):13
Survival: 11
Swim: 0
Use Magic Device:13
Sleight of Hand:4

Languages Ceran, Bartamian, Mancian, Eldar, Gabdonian, Orc: Malska

W.P. Simple, also w/Longsword, rapier, sap, shortsword(gladius), shortbow, whip, Residency, Citizenship, Patrician, Rich, Rich.

Special Abilities
Bardic Knowledge (1/2 L to all knowledges)
Bardic Performance
Cantrips (can play 0 lvl spells X times)
Inspire Courage(1)
Inspire Competence
Deep Pockets(carry 100g/lvl [700gp current] of trinkets, and scrolls in pockets/bag/satchel, +4 to STR when determining encumbrance, +4 to Sleight of Hand when concealing item on body)
Master Scribe (can always take 10 on Ling/Prof.Oratory, and gets CL in Ling, Prof, Use Magic Device)
Versatile Performance: Oratory (diplomacy, sense motive)
well versed (
4 vs all saves against bards)
Live to Tell(can reroll persistent effect for saving throw)
Pathfinding (+5 on survival/INT vs getting lost/escaping maze spell, considered always on ‘road or trail’ for movement & can extend the courtesy to other PC’s via DC 15 Survival)

Known: lvl 0:6, lvl 1:4, lvl 2:3
Per day: lvl 0:X, lvl 1:6, Lvl 2:3

Lvl 0 spells: Summon Instrument, Mending, Read Magic, Light, Message, Detect Magic
Lvl 1 spells: Unseen Servant, Cure Lt. Wounds, Disguise Self, Charm Person
Lvl 2 spells: Blood Biography, Mirror Image, Cure Mod. Wounds


Jinotega Dynasty

The Jinotega clan is of Patrician status and heritage. The family has been a well-rounded instrument of Mara since the dawn of it’s time. Maintaining the idea and speaking it’s clan mantra “Empower Within,” the Jinotega sculpt Mara out of its always developing ‘current’ state of being. The political and societal output of what Mara can produce can always be relied upon within its own borders. Reaching as far back as the Early Days the clan came about by one Harrastus Jinotega.

An apparent zealot of Opiter, Harrastus was one of the men rallied under Nathanus Sernum’s 100 swords. Helping to cut through the guards of the tyrant up until the very moment Tari came man to man with Nathanus, Harrastus was a lively supporter of the revolution. According to legend after the battle for the Capistine Martus himself appeared from the ruined dusts of the battle. Bound by broken rock, cracked blades, splinters, and war dust Martus bequeathed the newly formed Patricianal senators to build an obelisk in honor to his new kingdom. He then left and turned into a pile of dust! Entranced by the vision Nathanus built the sculpture and found remarkable effects, a city full of supporters. Martus be praised! Opiter in his Heavens!

Embracing change from the past Nathanus requited the assistance of Harrastus to fold into Mara’s political rungs the religious undertakings of Opiter and his many followers. Most of the Opiter following were of pleb status, but with the fanatical Harrastus as an advisor between the new order of the land and the Twelve Gods Order’s there was a radical turnout of support for the nation. Many people flocked to make offerings to the Gods for the future of Mara. The sacrifices were plentiful and pleased the Gods. For years there was a prosperity throughout the land. Harrastus’ line passed through many generations and bonded with other powerful elites to thrive under the Jinotega clan. The Jinotega seed was prosperous and the family tree grew generously.

Many different families conduct services under the guise of the Jinotega clan name. The orders are varied, and the ties remain strong to this day, as elders advice usually takes hold. Amongst the older orders are Malceyodon, Van Sayyar, Oortlocke, Estcherd, Cowldorl, Martamian, Der Matsoo, Spyryite, and Gorithsti. Many other younger and varied families have married in at one point or another, but it is generally believed the that Patricianal lines are traced, thus most Jinotega trace their ancestor to Harrastus Jinotega.

Amongst the more famous Jinotega of their time there was this time in AM …TBC

The Letter Hattusa A.M 5750


We have lost Old Plithers. The Dying Will has much to say of your status now. I know you’ve always been the careful one, and not really the one for family business, but there are things for you. Things you need to come to terms with. Things here for you now. Back home. Leave Hattusa. I beg you. Before the land claims your life and I hear war stories of heads on lizard pikes. So dreadful. The things that we hear back at home. Please Cevero. I would not have you cast into some evil ceremony with snake gods and lizard folk. Please come home to me.

Martamian Blood A.M. 5752

Recently, with the outings of other Patricianal families, and the heart of Mara at it’s breaking point a vie for control has come from within. Spurring for power each Patricianal family casts it’s lot in the hopes for a better realm. Better run by them.

In rapid succession the families may even eliminate old enemies, thus strengthening the grip between the cartel-like factions that want to rule Mara with a pimp’s fist. They do this mainly by running out family owned business, even farm-side residents to install their local economies using brute force when necessary.

In the meantime Cevero – staying at his summer villa – has been awakened by a surprise messenger earlier in the day. The padfoot brought news that one, Jaxtus Larridon Enyo, has summoned a meeting with the reputed Lord Cevero. Knowing the Larridon clan to be of a qualitative repour, but not knowing anything of an Enyo family, he took the meeting, albeit a bit forced. The Larridon Patrician gained status at the close of the Blood Reign. At that point in history the fall of the city had swallowed some of it’s older, more liberal counterparts. Mara is a ravenous city sometimes, and can be outright strange even on it’s best days. The citizens have grown accustomed to it’s hungers.

The Jinotega villa’s curtains were dripping from the late rains of the day from the outside. A carriage donning the banner of a hare on a poppy field began to pull up at the front of the summer-home. The host of the vehicle and his driver servant approached the house after the halt. Inside Cevero, Glorion and Eptar had cleaned the room to be used, and had the tea on the way with the cheeses already sliced. As Cevero stalked about placing foreign objects and mismatched socks in their correct places, he stooped to drop a half-bitten piece of crumbled cheese at Vella’s alter. Turning to Opiter, he placed his hands at his brow and under the chin.

He mouthed quietly, “Empower Within.”

The knocking at the front entrance sent Eptar on his nimble feet. When Cevero came back into the kitchen he saw the dwarf’s progress and dismissed him. Then met up with Eptar in the main room where the elf was just beginning to enter, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture to seat the guests.

“Welcome to my home Jaxtus,” Cevero initiated, “have you come, willing the Gods, bearing news of our Eastern Treaties? Or dost some other business acquaint you to me?”

“Dear Cevero your other siblings were loathe to see me on such short notice, but I bring news which needs speaking over. We must talk. Many changes are coming to Mara.”

Cevero gestured to the food and large viewing wall, " Come. We will discuss it over tea in this sight room."

Soon Eptar had re-entered to serve the men a tray of refreshments: a bar of mostly sliced cheese, corn bread, corn bread rinds, corn crackers, and chilled goats milk. Jaxtus’ slave remained standing and did not engage in either the food or words. Cevero and his guest made small talk over the food and quickly found themselves getting back on track to the conversation when it hit a roundabout point.

“Well Cevero the commons to the East were reluctant to sign our agreement. There were long discussions about rights and privileges over residency and titles, and plots. For the most part they were willing to cooperate, but refused until our end of the bargain has been fulfilled.”

“I’m not certain I understand Jaxtus. What other sorts of promises can we make before the proper parliament makes it to the capital for co-signment? What other rights can we offer? Citizenship can only be granted for humans you know this,” Cevero watched Jaxtus nod, “with time perhaps we can gift the elves citizenship, but for now how could we manage it? It’s not up to us, just yet, whether or not to cut through the red tape. You know as well as I do that the Marans and Eldar get along just fine, but we are conquerors Jaxtus. Conquerors of them. Only after the lust of our ‘superior ideologies’ has been filled can we rationally relate the idea of peace and prosperity between two nations, now does that sound healthy?”

“You see Cevero. This is why I have come. To negotiate a new treaty. One that will work.”

“But Jaxtus, we’ve been working on this campaign going two and a half years now. I don’t understand, why re-edify it now when it’s so close?”

“Oh Cevero. You Martamians are all so old school. You see Cevero,” as Jaxtus stared the old man in the face, “the Martamians have been honor bound to Mara for hundreds upon hundreds of years. The ideas that you and your CLAN have turned into law have done nothing more than open the gateway for our country to be run over with slaves and all their nasty cultural habits. These ideas are a way of an old republic. A republic that needs retiring.”

Jaxtus looked over his shoulder at his slave who brandished from his attire a well sharpened gladius. The slave-man eye balled Cevero. It was an assassination.

Cevero spat, “You mean you’ve come to sweep away the cobwebbed corners of Mara so you can what? Put a new face on the republic? Damn you and your treachery Larridon. Glorion! Eptar! We have been deceived! Arm yourselves!”

Cevero’s slaves appeared from different sides of the room. Glorion, armed with a gardening hoe, waddled forward to poke at the slave-man. Eptar had a cooking knife and paired off with Jaxtus who had drawn a gladius from his robes.

“Kill them Decius! And leave old Cevero for me!” Jaxtus bellowed.

The muscled slave jumped to the call and clashed with Glorion. Decius, who moved like a soldier, spared little effort in dispatching the house slave. After watching Decius murder Glorion, Cevero withdrew from the room to his study, where he stored his oddities. Now negotiating with Decius, Jaxtus abandoned the Eptar battle to storm after Cevero.

In the study room Cevero quickly opened his war-chest. The patter of footsteps treading behind him made him think of Hattusa in the early days, when you couldn’t see what was going on in the night. War dogs, and the screams of trogs and men howled as they died in battle. Fires flashed in his mind of Mara ablaze. He could still hear the long silenced battle-field that Mara had become at one point, and Ralta shouting his prophecies amongst a hushed army of people that were Mara.

Suddenly, Jaxtus was behind him taking up the doorway. Cevero turned to face him, armed with a piece of parchment. The two men spoke no words, but their body language was hostile in the most obvious of manners.

Decius came through the doorway, getting by Jaxtus he said, “Can’t wait to taste pure Patrician bl-”

He was cut short by a whisper from Cevero, and a black portal seemed to open beneath Decius’ feet. As Decius looked down to react the brightest light shone about, engulfing him. The light dissipated like a candle and Decius was reduced to a pile of bones and ash.

“Your move,” Cevero spoke up as the parchment lifted to dust at his fingertips.

Jaxtus slowly approached, weary of anything. Cevero backed away as slowly and upon whence reaching the wall instinctively reached up behind him to pull down a gladius. Set in a crest above his praying table the Jinotega coat of arms fell to pieces. No longer waiting for the old man to become more prepared Jaxtus lunged, piercing point forward. The blade plunged into Cevero’s back and became lodged. As the impaled Cevero turned to face his enemy he brought his dull blade down over his head, but Jaxtus was faster and stronger. He avoided Cevero’s cleave entirely and, laughing at the old man, danced about the room to a pole-arm rack.

Brandishing a pike at Cevero now Jaxtus made an attempt to charge. Cevero, knowing his room better reached out his free hand to evade behind his old storm shield, propped on a stand conveniently in range. In a flash the pike came through the shield, holding it in place. Appearing from the other side Cevero’s strong arm came down once more. The blunted gladius popped Jaxtus’ skull like an egg for breakfast.

Panting, and bleeding out Cevero made it to his main desk were all sorts of parchment, rocks, gifts, trinkets, and most importantly a crystal ball were waiting. Ignoring the messy desk he cleared away the things covering the crystal ball, which began to float a few inches off the table-top. Rubbing the crystal ball impertinently a face appeared in the globe.

“Help me. I’m dying at my villa. I’ve been stabbed. Help me Leodous…” and he lost consciousness.

Time passed. He lived through memories of his first wife. Their failure with birthing a child. He watched the burial several times. No success. He was five and fifty and still had no children to pass his livings on to. He felt sad. He yearned for a woman. Suddenly he began to hear voices penetrating his thoughts.

“He’s waking up now,” a soft velvety voice spoke with precise measurement. “He should be fine. There was no splintering and the slice was very clean.”

Cevero’s eyes adjusted to faces looking down on him.

“Im still alive,” he gasped, trying to sit up.

The elven voice came again, “Slowly Cevero. The spell hasn’t finished binding your skin. You can’t rely on loba like real magic. It does make getting my attention easy though, doesn’t it?”

“Jaxtus. Is he dead?” Cevero asked.

“Your Bray put him down for good. We came as soon as we saw you through the globe my Lord,” Leodous said cleaning the now sharpened looking blade of it’s brain matter.

“Hmmph. Poor Glorion. Poor Eptar. Just preparing for the casual day. Murdered for stupidity,” Cevero stood now.

The wound was no more than a red line at this point. He looked about his house servants, all trusted and then turned back to his room to look about his study. The slaves aided him in walking at first, but he managed to get back to his own strength in no time. He pulled out a black chest of gold trim buried beneath years of scattered artifacts that spanned the reaches of Mara. Opening it Cevero withdrew from it an ancient cloth with the striking surprise of crow’s feathers darting out of it, it was wrapped around something. Unwrapping the feather cloak Cevero revealed a grand golden scepter, the end looked like little golden trees, and the top had an ancient beasts head. The scepter glimmered in the candle light of the room.

“King Arren’s scepter,” he said with an intense whisper.

Leodous and the other elf slaves present broke into different actions. Some bent a knee, some began to draw signs in the air and on their bodies, and others merely closed their eyes. Leodous broke out a fetish from his pocket and held it tight with both hands, he began to whisper to himself.

“Jaxtus probably had some foolish plan to rob this. It is in the national census for historical artifacts under the clan’s respectable curio program. Many people can know, just most too lazy to read. I bet he planned to restore it to Eldar lands in hopes of revivn the long dead marty’s memory. This device was won so long ago. Taken as a token of war by my long dead relatives, there can be no instance that this should ever return. It would break Mara, and we have for too long been a broken land. War forever on the borders, lives of a nation that never ceases to grow, and the politics at an unendurable overextension. Mara would have a completely different face in 100 years if Jaxtus had left here today with this. Terrible. I suppose it’s time for some Jinotega ingenuity. Time to solve the problem ourselves, the mysteries of the world as my home.”

Cevero placed the scepter back into its cloth in the box. Turning to his company he saluted with a fist over his heart and spoke, “Empower Within.”


“The job will get dirty, but you seem of a nasty demeanor,” Cevero said to the large Gabo.

“Pay what you say and I won’t care about the jobs,” the Gabo hissed and hacked out.

“Well, I must have you know now, while we’re here. I’ll need someone who can help me travel through the world later, and defend me if need be, as I am old. And possibly kill for me when the time calls for it,” Cevero informed the Gabo.

“Battle is a sweet thing. I am not loathe to take your job Martamian. If you will need killing, it is something we say. I am gifted,” the Gabo snarled.

“Good. Well. For the time being you’ll watch after my estates as I work with my retainer to stash some terribly influential objects in a safe place,” the old man asked of the Gabo.

“My whip stays oiled, I am strong always,” the Gabo said with confidence.

Understanding that Gabdonians aren’t human Cevero took that as a yes. He pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill with ink.

“Uhm. Can you write your name?” asked Cevero.

“What is it? Writing?” inquired the Gabo.

“Yes, but…” Cevero stood about a moment, then concluded. He took the ink from the well and rubbed across the Gabo’s paw. Placing it on the agreement papers his hand basically covered the entirety of it.

“Good,” said Cevero pleased with his remedy.

“What does that spell?” asked the old man pointing at the paw print.

“Atanadessu Berenlanx Ekkupi-Edad, born under the bleeding sun!” roared the Gabo throwing his arms in the air.

“Whoa,” Cevero said startled putting a coin purse into the air, “then I call you that? What you said?”

“No!” barked the Gabo.

The two exchanged a glance before Cevero gave a half-shrugged surrender and tilt of the head.

“I am Lanx!” cheered the Gabo. Who then snatched the purse from Cevero’s extended hand. Cevero rolled up the agreement and stored it in his files room across the grounds. Rows of documents were stored here, some humorous, others political, and varied results when opened at random. After that he had the Gabo walk him from the small room to the other side of the house, conversations were brief between the two. When they stopped in the dining hall the Gabo lit up a tobac pipe at the table. Not too bothered by the stench, Cevero was pleased to have a good guard about. He then proceeded to introduce the Gabo to the house delight of C nights: Roast Lamb. Which ceased to be C night house meals that evening. After the Gabo got drunk enough to hurl the lamb bits across the room onto the wall, where hours of scrubbing couldn’t even remove his bile, it was switched to fish.


Cevero Jinotega Martamian IV

Mara Quixotic_Earthling