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Old 3rd October 2008, 05:04 PM   #2 (permalink)
Bohemian Ear-Spork
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Join Date: Aug 2006
Posts: 62
Bohemian Ear-Spork Goblin Sharpshooter (Lvl 2)
Simon Sinople

Stat Block


Male Human Dread Necromancer 1
Lawful-Neutral Medium Humanoid (human)
6'2", 215 lbs., Red hair, brown eyes


Str 13(+1)
Dex 14(+2)
Con 15(+2)
Int 15(+2)
Wis 13(+1)
Cha 16(+3)

Fort: +2, Ref: +2, Will: +3

Hit Points: 8 (1d6+2)
Init +6
Spd 30 ft/x4;
AC 16 (+4 armor, +2 dex), touch 12, flat-footed 14;

Base Atk/Grapple +0/+1
Greataxe: +1 Two-handed (1d12+1; 20/x3)
Dagger: +1 One-handed (1d4+1;1 9-20/x2)
Charnel Touch: +1 One-handed Touch (1d8 Negative; 20/x2)

Heavy Crossbow: +2 Two-handed (1d10;19-20/x2)





Trained Skills
  • Bluff: +7 (4 ranks +3 Chr)
  • Concentration: +6 (4 ranks +2 Con)
  • Knowledge (arcana): +6 (4 ranks +3 Int)
  • Knowledge (religion): +6 (4 ranks +2 Int)
  • Spellcraft: +6 (4 ranks +2 Int)
Feats
  • Spell Focus: Necromancy (1st level)
  • Improved Initiative (1st level Human bonus)
Dread Necromancer Abilities
  • Turn Undead(Su): Can turn undead 6 times per day. A turning check is made on 1d20+3; turning damage is equal to 2d6+4 on a successful check.
  • Charnel Touch (Su): 1/round at will, as a melee touch attack, attack a living foe and 1d8 points of Negative Energy damage. This touch heals undead, and can be delivered through a spectral hand spell.
Spells




1st Level: (4/Day)Equipment
  • Greataxe (20 GP)
  • Dagger (2 gp)
  • Heavy Crossbow (50 GP)
    • Quiver of 10 Bolts (1 GP)
    • Sleep Bolt
  • Chain Shirt (100 GP)
  • Backpack (2 GP)
    • Potion of Cure Light Wounds
    • Bedroll (1 SP)
    • Waterskin (1 GP)
    • 3 days Trail Rations (15 SP)
    • Empty Sack (1 SP)
    • 3 Sunrods (6 GP)
    • 5 Tindertwigs (5 GP)
  • 10 GP, 5 SP



Character History

Simon Sinople was born dead. He took his first, shuddering breath a good fifteen minutes after he came into this world, as his mother wept over what she thought was her baby's corpse.

It was, in retrospect, inevitable -- or so the whispers of the neighbors had it. Everyone hears the stories, knows that the 13th son of a 13th son is both doomed and damned, but really...how often is such a child born, even in lands as prosperous as those of Cauldron?

Damned or no, Simon grew up as a fairly ordinary child. Bright, friendly, always willing to lend a hand when asked. He got into his fair share of trouble, but no more than any other child. Only his unusual pallor marked him as being in any way unusual, and once it became clear that sunlight caused him no distress? Most managed to forget the ominous omens of his birth, and convinced themselves that the old stories were nothing more than that.

Simon was sixteen when that changed. He'd gotten into a fight with Adaric Miller, over a girl, of course, and the two of them were brawling in a manner entirely typical of two teenaged boys who were normally good friends. Adaric was either luckier or clumsier than his wont that day, and managed to break Simon's nose with one of his frantic punches.

Simon doesn't remember being angry, when he thinks back. Not the usual sort of anger, at least. This was a cold and righteous fury, unlike anything he'd ever known before. He felt his body grow cold; the heat of the blood running down his face was like boiling water. And as Adaric stuttered out his apologies, Simon's hand reached out of its own accord and clenched around the boy's left arm.

That's when Adaric started screaming.

His arm was left twisted and withered by Simon's touch; fifteen years later, and it still hangs useless at his side.

That's when the whispers started up again. Accompanied by glares this time, and thrown stones on more than a few occasions. Simon left a few weeks later, in the dead of night. He'd heard the stories himself by this time, the ones that had never before been told in his presence. He knew what people thought he was, he knew that they were wrong about him, and he was going to prove it.

They weren't wrong, or so the priests of Wee Jas told him. The 13th son of a 13th son is doomed to become something neither entirely alive nor wholly dead, a thing that thrives upon and commands necrotic power. Simon understood, and reluctantly believed, their words...but he refused to accept that he had no control over his own destiny.

He went on the road, constantly moving from place to place, learning what he could about his curse along the way. Simon discovered how much power he really had, and how it could be used, and grew ever stronger in his determination that he would control this power, and not vice-versa.

Simon did what good he could, over the years. He saved a few lives, killed a few bandits, learned more than a few secrets. He's got friends now, all throughout the Cauldron region, although none of them truly understand the source of his power. He avoids Hollowsky, though, even now. He probably always will. He'll not take the risk of seeing his family again.

Of late, Simon's dreams have been troubling him. Something is coming, something awful, and it's been calling to him with increasing urgency. Opposing this force, whatever it may be, is clearly his only choice right now....


Appearance

Tall and stocky, tending towards stoutness (to be charitable), Simon tends to dress as well as he can afford, favoring rich embroidery and deep greens and reds. He flatly refuses to wear black, considering it beneath his dignity.

His skin is unusually pale for a man who spends so much time in the sun, and his red hair and beard are long enough to give him a slight resemblance to a lion. His eyes are brown, with occasional flickers of sickly green when reflecting light.


Personality

Open and friendly, oftentimes to a fault -- Simon has a tendency to be overly familiar with new acquaintances, treating them as though he's known them for years.

He follows a strict and self-imposed code of honor; if someone with honest intentions asks him for help, he will give it or die trying.

Simon considers himself to be a follower of Wee Jas, driven mainly by a thirst for knowledge, but he makes a point of offering prayers to any of the more benevolent gods when presented an opportunity. "Can't hurt," he tells himself.

Last edited by Bohemian Ear-Spork; 3rd November 2008 at 08:11 PM..
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