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[Voadam]

Turalisj'na'Sveargith ("Tur")
Lizardfolk - Medium Humanoid (Reptilian)
Lizardfolk 1 / Barbarian (Dragon Totem) 1
Str 16 (+3)
Dex 14 (+2)
Con 14 (+2)
Int 9 (-1)
Wis 14 (+2)
Cha 13 (+1)
Mov: 30'
Init: +2
BaB: +1
HP: 14
AC: 16 (+2 nat. armor, +2 dex, +2 ref)
Fort: +4
Ref: +4
Will: +2
Attack: 2 claws +4 melee (1d4+3) and bite +2 melee (1d4+1), Greateaxe +4 melee (1d12+4, x3) and bite +2 melee (1d4+1), Kukri +4 melee (1d4+3, 18-20/x2) and claw +2 melee (1d4+1) and bite +2 melee (1d4+1), Javelin +3 range (1d6+3, 30ft)
Grapple: +4
Feats: Blind Fight, Multiattack
Special Abilities: Rage (1x/day)
Special Qualities: Hold breath
Skills:
Balance (0) +6
Climb (0) +3
Intimidate (4) +5
Jump (0) +7
Listen (3) +5
Speak Language (Dover)
Survival (4) +6
Swim (0) +7

Languages: Draconic, Dover
Equipment:
Cold Iron Greataxe (40gp)
2 Javelins (2gp)
Kukri (8gp)
Potion (Cure Lt Wnds) (50gp)


Hold Breath
A lizardfolk can hold its breath for a number of rounds equal to four times its Constitution score before it risks drowning.

Background:
In his previous life, Turalisj had had everything. A promising young son of the Maekrix of Clan Kuric, he had been the first of the season's hatchlings to devour his last sibling and was inducted into the warrior caste in the first culling. His size, prowess and lineage had won him respect. After his final molt, he had bonded with a powerful broodmate, allied himself with her sire, and begun his ascension into the ranks of power.

A mere six months later, and he was nothing. Less than nothing, he was an outcast. That he had committed no crime was irrelevant. In this abominable wasteland, he had no clan, no mate, no slaves, and no honor. What he did have was a cursed lifedebt to a tribe of sucklings whose ways he would never understand.

He remembered nothing of his translation to this world, or of the time - however long - that immediately followed. He remembered only the birds. The warmbloods had found him bleeding out his last on some game trail near the edge of their lands. He had apparently been attacked and left for dead, but by what they did not know. There was no doubt in his mind that if their situations had been reversed, he would have spit-roasted and devoured them, but this was not their way. They dragged him back to their settlement and, despite their ignorance of his race, they managed to nurse him back to health. Why they would do such a thing, he would never understand, but in the time since his rescue, the Dovers had adopted a number of other foundlings. In Tur's mind, it was a level of foolishness that bordered on the suicidal. To bring in these outsiders, to give them such close access to their mates and hatchlings.... it boggled the mind. Their folly had, over time, inspired in Tur a feeling that was almost, but not entirely, quite unlike pity. He could not find the words to describe it. It was like pity, but without the desire to destroy and consume. But that wasn't exactly right, either. What was perfectly clear, in any case, was that they needed protecting, often from themselves, and Tur meant to do it. Their motivations for saving his life were mysterious, but the consequences of that act were not. For a warrior of the Dragonkin, a lifedebt was a serious matter. Tur would protect them, whether they liked it or not.