Character Submission
Here is a character that I cooked up some time ago and have been waiting to submit to a PbP Shackled City campaign.
I would very much like to play, but unfortunately I can only post three times a week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday. If you want to go faster, I will respectfully withdraw.
But if everyone is okay with it, I would like to jump in with both feet!
And so I present to you . . .
Adamant Bohaven
Code:
Male halfling ranger 1
Small humanoid (halfling)
HD 1d10+1; hp 11
Init +3
Spd 20 ft.
AC 17, touch 14, flat-footed 14
Base Atk +1; Grp –2
Atk +5 melee (1d4+1/x3, handaxe)
or +5 ranged (1d6/x3, longbow)
Full Atk +5 melee (1d4+1/x3, handaxe)
or +5 ranged (1d6/x3, longbow)
or +1/–3 melee (1d4+1/x3, handaxe and 1d3+1/x4, light pick)
SA favored enemy (monstrous humanoids) +2
SQ wild empathy +1
AL CG
SV Fort +4, Ref +6, Will +2
Str 12, Dex 17,. Con 13, Int 12, Wis 13, Cha 8.
Skills:
Climb +4, Hide +10, Jump +4,
Knowledge (nature) +3, Listen +7, Move Silently +8,
Profession (gardener) +2, Search +2, Spot +5,
Survival +5
Feats: Track, Weapon Finesse.
Languages: Common, Halfling, Elven.
Possessions: handaxe, light pick, 4 daggers, longbow,
studded leather,
backpack,
3 candles, flint and steel,
ink vial, inkpen, journal,
4 trail rations, waterskin (full),
whetstone, 4 sunrods
Appearance:
While most halflings might seem almost perpetually joyful, never without a smile or a witty remark, Adamant retains a look of grim determination on his unshaven face. Long, dark hair frames his face, which he ignores when it catches on his stubble or covers his eyes. Every step he takes is with supreme purpose and focus, his ears always pricked, his intense storm-gray eyes always scanning. He may have to crane his neck to speak with most others twice his height, yet somehow, he always seems to look at others directly and right into their eyes.
Background:
Adamant had trained for years in preparation to become a clanwarden of his small halfling community. The Wardens, a small and elite force, protected their friends and families from bandits, marauders, and wandering beasts. To join their ranks, one must pass the test of search, survival, and stealth. A dire boar, captured and then released into the surrounding woods at night, would undoubtedly leave a trail. Upon waking the following morning, it was Adamant's task to track, find, and capture the creature by nightfall. He plunged into the trees, confident in his abilities, and immediately identifying the boar's trail. Fates, however, rallied against him. A freak storm broke, washing away the boar's trail, washing it away to practically nothing. Still, Adamant plodded on, seeing a tuft of hair here, catching a whiff of the animal there. Finally, as his deadline approached and the sun began to set, he found the boar feasting on its own meal. Adamant withdrew his bow, knocked an arrow, and shot the creature clean through its neck. Grinning, Adamant returned home, his prize slung across his shoulders, hardly noticing the buckling of his knees beneath the animal's weight.
Adamant returned home to discover he had caught the wrong prey.
The boar Adamant had been sent to track had been especially marked on one of its hooves, detectable only through arcane magic. No such mark appeared on the boar Adamant had brought. Not only had he failed his test, but some also began to suspect he had not tried at all, that he had downed the first he had come across, that he had cheated. Adamant protested, requested another chance, but he was declined. He would never be eligible again: he had lost his chance.
Adamant's dream had shattered. What's more, no one looked him straight into his eyes again, doubting him. Adamant spent more time in the woods, away from the narrowed eyes, the shakes of heads. Eventually, he realized he was not even missed in his community when he spent days, even weeks, meditating in the wild. One day, without saying good-bye, he simply left in search of a community that might accept him.
