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[hafrogman]

Kylest

Name:       Kylest
Class:      Barbarian 2
Race:       Dwarf
Size:       Medium (4'2", 175 lb)
Gender:     Male
Alignment:  True Neutral     

Str: 19 +4     Level:    2     XP: 1,000
Dex: 14 +2     BAB:     +2     HP: 26 (2d12+8)   +4 While Raging
Con: 18 +4     Grapple: +6     PP: 2
Int: 13 +1     Speed:   30'
Wis: 14 +2     Init:    +2
Cha: 10 +0

(+2 str, +2 con (bonus); +1 str @ level 2) 

                      Base  Armor  Shield  Dex  Size  Misc
Armor: 16              10     +3     +1     +2   +0    --   -2 While Raging
Touch: 12
Flat:  16 (Uncanny Dodge)

+1 ac vs. giants


                      Base  Mod  Misc
Fort:  +7              +3    +4   +0
Ref:   +2              +0    +2   +0
Will:  +4              +0    +2   +0     +2 While Raging

+2 save vs. poison, spells, spell-like effects.


Weapon                Attack  Damage  Critical  Type
Longsword, 1h          +6     1d8+4     19-20     S
Longsword, 2h          +5     1d8+6     19-20     S     (-1 AC) 
Spiked Gauntlet        +6     1d4+4      20       P
Dagger                 +6     1d4+4     19-20    P/S
Unarmed                +6     1d3+4      20       B

Raging (+2 attack, +2 dmg 1h, +3 dmg 2h)
+1 attack orcs and goblinoids


Languages:
Common, Dwarven, Orc
   

Abilities:
Dark Vision
Stonecutting
Dwarven Weapon Familiarity
Stability
+2 Save vs. Poison, Spells
+1 Attack vs. Orcs, Goblinoids
+4 Dodge vs. Giants
+2 Appraise Stone, Metal
+2 Craft Stone, Metal
Fast Movement
Illiteracy
Rage (1/day)
Uncanny Dodge


Feats:
Improved Unarmed Strike [1st]
Wild Talent [Bonus]


Skill Points: 25    Max Ranks: 5/2

Skills:               Ranks  Mod  Misc

*Climb +8              5     +4
Concentration +4       0     +4
Intimidate +5          5     +0
*Jump +7               5     +3
Listen +7              5     +2
Survival +3            1     +2
*Tumble +2            2cc    +1

*Armor Check Penalty: -1


Equipment:                Cost  Weight
Backpack                   2gp     2lb
Belt Pouch                 2gp     1lb
Rations (4 days)           2gp     4lb
Rope, Silk (50')          10gp     5lb
Waterskin                  1gp     4lb
Whetstone                  2cp     1lb

Longsword                 15gp     4lb
Spike Gauntlet             5gp     1lb
Dagger                     2gp     1lb 

Studded Leather           25gp    20lb
Buckler                   15gp     5lb

Total Weight: 48lb / 76lb light load
Money: 15 gp 9 sp 8 cp

Background

I have occasionally heard others speak of our people and the glory of the old kingdom, but I'm not sure I believe them. I never got close to any dwarves. I never really got close to anyone, but it's the dwarves I'm talking about now. So I was never close, but I watched them enough. They didn't impress me. Lickspittle toadies, sniveling cowards, soulless automatons, or foolish zealots. Everybody has to find their own way to live under the orcs. Mine was blood.

I don't know who my parents were. I assume they're dead. Either way, I wasn't raised around other dwarves, I think that's intentional. My earliest memories are of my handler, an Orc of course. When I was young, I called him 'Master'. Once I was old enough to understand what it meant, I stopped. He tried to beat that little bit of impertinence out of me, but didn't succeed. I think I was worth too much money for him to simply kill me.

Most of my youth was spent learning how to fight. The orcs like to train the fighters young, and alone. Less chance of any friendship or blood kin causing trouble during the fights. Once you're in the pit, you fight. It doesn't matter that the dwarf across from you might be your father, or your brother. He's going to try and kill you, and you'll do just the same. . . there are no choices.

Every morning started with practice. After shaving of course. All male dwarves start their day by shaving. The orcs have this real thing against beards, I don't know why. I once saw some damn fool that wasn't trying to make a statement or something. He must have managed to avoid notice for a few days at least, but the fur on his face gave him away. Six orcs pinned him down and started shaving him with a rusty knife. Once they were done with the beard, they just kept going, flaying the skin away from his face. It wasn't a pretty sight.

Every so often, I'd be sent to a pit to fight. Sometimes it was a disobediant slave, sometimes an animal, or monster, and sometimes it was another gladiator, just like me. There was a lot of betting involved, and I assume my handler got a share, because he was always smiling after I won. I don't think it was out of concern for my safety.

Then the routine changed. The fights started coming more frequently, and they were always against other gladiators. My handler wouldn't tell me anything, just mentioned a 'tournament', and then ignored me. So I kept fighting. The whys and the wherefores don't matter so much when someone is trying to kill you. Since I'm here today, you can assume I didn't lose. I won fight after fight, until the last one. I can still remember the look on the face of the dwarf as my steel pinned him to the wall. He was really young, and he just looked really surprised.

A huge cheer went up from above the pit, and went on for quite a while. Then a knotted rope was tossed down into the pit, and a large orc peered over the side. I'd never seen him before, but he looked important.

"Congratulations on your victory, dwarf. You may go."

I was puzzled.

"Go where?"

He blinked one or twice and looked at someone else, out of my view for a second. Then he barked in laughter. It wasn't a pleasant noise.

"You just won your freedom. Take it now, or lose it again. Your choice."

I climbed out of the pit then, and stood at the top looking around. My handler was there, he looked furious, but said nothing. The important orc pointed down a tunnel, and I set off. Eventually daylight led me to my first taste of the outside world. Freedom wasn't something I had ever even thought of before, but now that I had it, I was going to make use of it. I quickly made my way out into the mountains.

I don't think my handler intended to let me go. He couldn't stop me in front of his own leader, but later I saw him leading a group of orcs around the mountainside. They were looking for something. I didn't let myself be seen, and once they gave up, I started making my way down the mountain side. Perhaps in the lowlands I could find a new life. One of my own.

As I camped that day, I found myself thinking about the dwarves. Every slave I'd seen crumble under their load. Every voice shouting for dwarven kind that was silenced under an iron-shod boot. Every dwarf, raised to fight, that had died by my hands. Their silenced voices asailed me in my sleep, but I railed against them. Who am I to owe anything to the dwarves? They did nothing for me, I fought my own way to freedom. So why do they haunt me?

Appearance

Kylest doesn't look like much the dwarves from the old stories. He has no axe, no horned helmet, and most notably, no beard. Kylest may no longer be required to shave totally smooth every morning, but he still keeps most of the beard gone. Only a layer of stubble graces his chin as a gesture of freedom. His face is grim, and bears old, badly healed scars. His hair is ill-kempt, and hangs loosely around his head.