Characters for the Tol Haggerun Prophecy

Jacoby of Amberlea
Tallfellow Fighter 1
Alignment: Lawful Good
Patron: Bahamut, The Platinum Dragon
Height: 4' 1"
Weight: 31 lbs
Hair: Redish blonde
Eyes: Light brown
Age: 24

Str: 14 (+2) [10 points, -2 racial]
Dex: 12 (+1) [2 points, +2 racial]
Con: 16 (+3) [10 points]
Int: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Wis: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Chr: 10 (0) [2 points]

Class and Racial Abilities:
+2 Dex, -2 Str, Small (+1 to AC and attacks, +4 to Hide checks), +1 racial bonus on all saving throws, +2 moral bonus on saving throws against fear. +1 racial bonus on attack rolls with thrown weapons and slings, +2 racial bonus on Search, Spot and Listen checks, automatic search check to detect secret or concealed doors within 5 feet.

Hit Dice: 1d10
Wound Points: 16
Vitality Points: 13
Armor Class: 16 (+1 Dex, +1 size, +2 armor, +2 shield)
Damage Reduction: 2
Action Points: 5
Initiative: +1 (+1 Dex)
Speed: 20ft

Saves:
Fortitude +6 [+2 base, +3 Con, +1 racial]
Reflex +2 [+0 base, +1 Dex, +1 racial]
Will +2 [+0 base, +1 Wis, +1 racial]
+2 moral bonus on saving throws against fear

BAB: +1
Melee Atk: +4 (1d6+2 /19-20/P lance) or +5 (1d10+3 /19-20/S greatsword)
Ranged Atk: +4 (1d3+2 /x2/50 ft./B, sling)

Skills:
Listen +4 [1 rank cross-class, +1 Wis, +2 racial]
Handle Animal +9 [4 ranks, +0 Chr, +3 Skill Focus feat, +2 Equipment]
Ride +5 [4 ranks, +1 Dex]
Search +3 [+1 Int, +2 racial]
Spot +4 [1 rank cross-class, +1 Wis, +2 racial]
-2 armor check penalty

Feats:
Simple Weapon Proficiency
Martial Weapon Proficiency (All)
Armor Proficiency (Light, Medium & Heavy)
Shield Proficiency
Tower Shield Proficiency
Skill Focus (Animal Handling)
Mounted Combat

Languages: Lur, Mitean, Elven

Heirloom: Vorpal, the sword of Sir Johann of Barduth (medium-size masterwork longsword)

Equipment: Chain shirt w/ cap, heavy wooden shield, lance w/ star pennon, sling w/ 10 bullets, explorer's outfit, animal trainer's kit, backpack, bedroll, flint and steel, wooden holy symbol of Vhara, 2 sacks, waterskin, whetstone, trail rations x4. (Total weight = 43.5 lb)

Treasure: 7 gp, 0 sp, 8 cp

Amber
Dog, riding (Fawn Great Dane)
Medium Animal, HD: 2d8+4; WP 15; VP 13; Init +2; Spd 40 ft.; AC 16, touch 12, flat-footed 14; BAB +1; Grap +3; Atk/Full Atk +3 melee (1d6+3, bite); Space/Reach: 5 ft./5 ft.; SA –; SQ low-light vision, scent; AL N; SV Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +1; Str 15, Dex 15, Con 15, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 6.
Skills: Jump +8, Listen +5, Spot +5, Swim +3, Survival +1*.
*Riding dogs have a +4 racial bonus on Survival checks when tracking by scent.
Feats: Alertness, Track.
Tricks: Come, Heel, Stay
Equipment: Leash and muzzle, riding saddle. (total weight = 25 lb)

Carrying Capacity: A light load for a riding dog is up to 100 pounds; a medium load, 101–200 pounds; and a heavy load, 201–300 pounds. A riding dog can drag 1,500 pounds.

_________________

Background:
Jacoby grew up amongst a peaceful community of halfling homesteaders in a small pastoral area along the foothills of the eastern mountains of Mitea south of the Tulgey wood. Known for its swaying fields of golden grain, the halflings named their land ‘Amberlea’. Jacoby grew up knowing a simple life, helping his father by tending the farm's draft dogs. The years rolled by and they were a blur of sowing and reaping, interspersed with the simple joys of an urban life; the birthing of new livestock, harvest festivals, holidays and simply growing up. All that began to change in one dark summer when death came to Amberlea. A large green scaled wyrm, with wide spade-like teeth, long talons and small wings began to stalk the livestock of the community. None of the simple country folk were well versed in monster lore so none could properly identify what type of beast terrorized their land. Though some called it "the dragon" others thought it bore a resemblance to the creatures that lived in the nursery tales told to frighten children, and so others named it the "Jabberwock".

At first it's victims were simply fat sheep, but then pigs and eventually a hen house full of chickens were slain and eaten. Many in the community were terrified and some families began to pack up their belongings to move on; the halfling way. Others sought to protect their livestock with clever traps and alarms and nighttime vigils, but the creature was wily and easily circumvented or overwhelmed the simple defenses set in place by the halflings. The slaughter continued. One night, when the farm next to Jacoby's family's own was attacked in the night, the grisly remains of the defenders who had stood vigil were found dismembered and half eaten. From then on the wyrm didn't limit itself to the lure of livestock, preferring the taste of halfling flesh. The community was horrified and most were ready to leave en masse when along came a mighty Urlic knight bearing a silver star pennon at the tip of his lance, clad in gleaming armor and mounted upon a huge horse, easily the size of the Jabberwock itself! He addressed the community's elders and introduced himself as Sir Johann of Barduth. He told the townsfolk that we was a veteran warrior of the Order of the Dragon and assured them that he'd faced similar creatures before. He promised to confront the beast and return peace to Amberlea. The elders accepted the man's claims and encouraged their fellows to remain for an extra day or two. The knight, mounted upon his mighty steed, patrolled the community for two days without incident. Some thought that the creature had caught wind of the mighty hero and had died of fear.

Two days later the dragon skulked out of the Tulgey wood and into Amberlea. In the dwindling twilight, the Jabberwock lay siege to Jacoby's family's farm. As his father herded his wife and children into the root-cellar he instructed Jacoby to take a draft dog and ride like the wind to fetch the knight. With his heart pounding Jacoby fled the farm with all haste and soon found the knight. The two quickly returned to the farm together where they sighted the Jabberwock's tail poking out of the barn. The squeals of the pigs and chickens could be heard as the beast feasted. The knight fired a few shots from his bow, skewering the visible tail and rump of the creature which howled in pain and quickly turned to confront the new threat, knocking down the barn's supporting wall with it's great head as it turned. The knight successfully shot a few more arrows at the beast before it sighted him, loudly burbled a challenge and began to charge while furiously beating its wings. The knight quickly dropped his bow and spare spears, spurred his horse into a gallop and leveled his lance at the Jabberwock. Mounds of turf flew into the air as the two combatants raced towards each other. The knight's lance found it's mark first and skewered the beast in the shoulder joint, badly wounding it. It roared in pain but still the beast was not yet dead and so it lunged forward and clamped it's mighty jaws onto the knight's leg, breaking the bone and tearing through the greeve, muscle and flesh. The knight's horse reared and crashed it's mighty hooves down onto the Jabberwock's back and wings in a succession of thunderous blow which caused the wyrm too loose the knight’s leg. In retaliation, the Jabberwock spun quickly in place and crashed it's serpentine tail into the horse's legs, bringing the mount crashing down and sending the knight rolling across the field. Down and defenseless, the horse was quickly dispatched by the beast's great claws and teeth. The knight, limply climbed to his one good leg and drew his sword and called out to the creature. It's maw dripping with blood and it's shoulder bleeding the beast looked up from its feast and slowly began to stalk towards the knight, carefully studying it's one remaining foe. The knight hopped forward and braced himself as best he could to receive the creature's attack. Jacoby couldn't believe the man's bravery; no halfling would have approached the beast in the first place let alone have remained teetering defiantly on one leg ready to continue fighting. As the beast charged the two combatants came once more together. The knight managed a few good sword strokes into the Jabberwock's wing and neck before himself being knocked back down. Even from his vantage point Jacoby could see the knight;s bloody sword swinging and cleaving into the monster's torso as it fell upon the fallen knight. Too soon the fight was over. The blood soaked and gravely injured beast pulled itself off the dead knight and roared in victory. Apparently having had its fill, the Jabberwock began to limp weakly back towards the Tulgey wood to nurse its many wounds in relative safety.

Jacoby was crushed; he was certain the valorous knight had been going to succeed. Now that he was dead, Jacoby knew what would happen next. The halflings would pack up, abandon their farms and livelihood and flee. They would travel to other villages, beg for food and shelter and pray to survive the upcoming winter. Amberlea as he knew it would disappear. All the while, the Jabberwock would lick its wounds and slowly recover from the battle. It would be back to hunt other poor souls far too soon. That's the moment that Jacoby realized that he could not afford to run from the beast, nor could his people wait for another mighty human hero to come and challenge the beast. Opposing evil was as much his responsibility as it had been the fallen knight's.

Bending down, Jacoby picked up one of the knight's discarded spears lying at his feet. He walked forward to where the knight had dropped his lance after he’d used it to impale the beast and undid the blood-stained silver star pennon that graced it's shaft. This he tied to the spear he carried, which was still quite sizable for his small stature, though it would have to do. Raising the pennon back into the air as the knight had carried it, he continued forward to where the brave warrior had fallen. Who had been this valorous man who gave his life to defend a people he didn't even know? He closed the knight's wide, vacant eyes and uttered a prayer to the being whose silver star graced his pennon. He then picked up the large sword from the fallen knight's limp hand and strapped it to his own back with the knight's belt so that its point wouldn't drag along the ground. Ignoring the knight's sundered shield, which he couldn't have hefted anyway, Jacoby went to the remains of his family's barn. As the surviving animals continued to squeal in fear, Jacoby found the hen house's diminutive door out from it's frame, but still whole. This too would have to do as well. He took the small square door and strapped it to his forearm with rope while using that arm's hand to hold the door's handle as an impromptu shield. The remainder of the rope he spooled across his chest to serve as a meek layer of protection for his torso against the Jabberwock's long claws.

Finally, as the crows began to descend on the fallen knight and horse's remains, his family emerged from their refuge. His siblings stood about, mouths agape, staring at the carnage and destruction the battle had wrought on their humble farm. His mother wept and tried to reassure them that the monster had fled, that everything would be alright now. Jacoby heard her words but found no comfort in them. Her promises sounded hollow to his ears. Jacoby was trying to coax one of the family's draft dogs to carry him on its back when his father found him. Seeing his son arranged as he was, he immediately knew what Jacoby intended: "You're going to seek the Jabberwock?!?" "Yes. Someone has to." answered Jacoby as he mounted his uncertain steed. His father opened his mouth to protest but then saw the resolve in his eldest son's purposeful movements and the steady set of his eyes. That determination was the reason he'd sent Jacoby to fetch the knight while the rest of the family had taken shelter. "Beware it's bite..." his father finally said as he fixed his own leather cap onto his son's head, "...and don't let it catch you in its claws. Surely the animals of the Tulgey wood will be spooked by its passing. Don't let the calls of the birds distract you and keep clear of any other upset animals."

And so it was that Jacoby, astride his draft-dog, dressed in his farm clothes, armored with a coil of rope, his father’s leather cap and a hen-house door and holding aloft a large spear with a silver star pennon, left his farm behind and entered the Tulgey wood to hunt and slay the injured Jabberwock. He followed the trail of blood and ground up dirt left in the beast’s passing for nearly a league. He continued to track it late into the day when he finally came to rest at the foot of a large oak tree. He and his brothers had often played in the tree as children and had named it the “Tumtum” tree on account of its fat belly shaped trunk. Jacoby was beginning to grow frustrated at his lack of progress in sighting the creature when he was startled by the cracking of twig from the direction he'd come. Whirling about, he saw in the long shadow of the tree a pair of hungry eyes, burning like twin embers in the dark. The beast had circled back in an attempt to surprise him. His dog began to bark, quickly turned tail and ran. The beast roared and charged the halfling, loudly beating the air with its small tattered wings as it came. Quickly raising the door to shield himself from its fangs, Jacoby planted the spear but into the ground and set it's point towards the Jabberwock ever-growing form. Although the spear bit deeply into the creature's hide, it's headlong rush snapped the spear’s shaft and the beast collided forcefully with the diminutive halfling shattering the impromptu shield and knocking Jacoby senseless.

When he miraculously awoke sometime later, it was dark out and his dog was insistently licking his face. He found himself lying in a large pool of thick blood beneath the head of the Jabberwock. Wild eyed and breathing quickly, Jacoby scrambled backwards and desperately tried to free his limp arm from the ropes that had secured the door to it. Panicking, he drew the knight’s sword, but in the dim light, the halfling could see that the wyrm was long dead and already growing cold. Jacoby slowly walked back towards the wyrm. After a few long moments he hefted the sword overhead and began to slash and stab at it's hide while screaming in surprise and elation. After several deliberate strikes Jacoby succeeded in severing the dragon's head and, using his coil of rope, tied it to his dog's harness. And so it was that Jacoby dragged the Jabberwock's severed head behind him as he returned to his kinsmen in Amberlea and his waiting father's embrace.

While Jacoby's arm mended, life in Amberlea began to return to a semblance of normalcy. The knight was quietly buried in the village's cemetery and the Jabberwock’s head was soon mounted above the hearth of the local inn. Day after day, while he healed, townsfolk would ask Jacoby to recount the tale of the Jabberwock's demise. He told them the truth; that it was the knight who deserved the credit for the kill; that the beast had been severely wounded by the heroic efforts of the martyred knight and that he himself had only been lucky that the wyrm had run itself through upon his spear before he'd lost consciousness. When Jacoby failed to elaborate or embellish his tale to the satisfaction of the villagers the local tale-spinners took over, eventually composing the song "Jabberwocky".

When he was healed Jacoby left Amberlea; much to the confusion of the locals and the sadness of his family. The moment that he picked up the fallen knight's spear he'd set himself on a different path than that of his kinsmen. Sir Johann had died fighting the good fight and now there was one less knight able to protect the helpless. Jacoby would take the knight's armaments and continue in that valorous hero's footsteps as best he could for as long as he was able.

Clare Karaby
Female Human Cleric of Good (Pistis Sophia) 1
Alignment: Lawful Good
Deity: Pistis Sophia
Height: 5' 2''
Weight: 104lbs
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Dark Blue
Age: 19

Str: 10 (+0) [2 points]
Dex: 8 (-1) [0 points]
Con: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Int: 15 (+2) [8 points]
Wis: 16 (+3) [10 points]
Cha: 14 (+2) [6 points]

Class and Racial Abilities: One extra feat at first level, 4 extra skill points at first level, 1 extra skill point at each level thereafter. Aura of good, divine spells, turn undead. Proficient with all simple weapons, all types of armor, and with shields (except tower shields). Good and Law domains.

Hit Dice: 1d8+2
VP/WP: 10/14
AC: 19 (-1 Dex, +4 exalted, +6 class defense bonus)
Action Points: 5
Init: -1 (-1 Dex)
Speed: 30ft

Saves:
Fortitude +4 [+2 base, +2 Con]
Reflex +0 [+0 base, +0 Dex]
Will +5 [+2 base, +3 Wis]

BAB: +0
Melee Atk: +0 (1d6/x2/B, quarterstaff)

Skills:
Concentration +6 [4 ranks, +2 Con]
Diplomacy +8 [4 ranks, +2 Cha, +2 exalted]
Heal +7 [4 ranks, +3 Wis]
Knowledge (history) +6 [4 ranks, +2 Int]
Knowledge (religion) +6 [4 ranks, +2 Int]

Feats:
Sacred Vow (human bonus 1st level)
Vow of Poverty (1st level)
Vow of Nonviolence (Vow of Poverty bonus)

Languages: Trade, Lur, Celestial

Spells prepared
DC +3 (DC +7 for non-damaging spells)
0th – create water, detect poison, mending
1st – bless, vision of heaven (BoED) (D) – protection from evil

Equipment
Quarterstaff – 0gp (4 lbs)
Wooden holy symbol – 25gp (1 lb)
Sack – 1sp (1/2 lb)
Trail rations (1 days worth) 5sp (1 lb)
Traveler’s outfit (Free)
Family Bible - This bible is a holy text that Clare's family possessed for generations. Their family tree is inside, several generations' worth, as well as lists of births, deaths, and marriages. It is illuminated and full of pictures, and was a scribe's masterwork. It contains the prayers that her family followed all of Clare's life. She carries it now to feel close to her family, having had it bestowed on her by her mother before she left. (When studied for a suitable amount of time, this provides a +1 on Knowledge (religion) checks.) 5 lbs


Total weight – 11.5 lbs, light load.

~~~~~

Appearance:
Clare is a young, fresh-faced girl that looks like your common shepherdess or milkmaid, until you notice the strange tattoo of white roses climbing her left cheek. It calls attention to her deep blue eyes flecked with faint gold, eyes that occasionally have their attention focused on something no one else can see. She is short and slight, with a thin build. Her hair is either loose about her face or braided out of the way with grass stems. She has a wooden holy symbol of angel wings on a strip of leather about her neck, and a long ash staff in her hand. She wears only the simplest robes and boots, homespun peasant garments of a light brown.

Personality: Clare is generally soft-spoken, unless she is speaking out in the cause of peace. Whether this is to calm a barroom brawl, a children’s quarrel, or a noble’s duel, this is when the full force of her passionate belief comes into her voice. She has tried to root out things within her that make her angry, attempting to cultivate an unruffled calm that others can emulate. But when things do disturb her, she is more apt to remove herself from that situation to go pray for a peaceful spirit, than risk losing her temper.

Background: Clare was the daughter of a sheep farmer, a man of modest wealth and good temper. He and his wife raised ten children, all of whom stayed on the farm to help them. Everyone worked, for there was not enough money for hired hands, but with a family of twelve, and growing each year with spouses and children, there was no lack of able bodies. Clare was responsible for her own part of the flock, and had a good touch with the young lambs and older ewes. The family lived a simple life, and all was happy.

Clare’s father had a brother, a rich man who traded far and wide until he was greatly wealthy. He was something of a miser, and never married so he would have no sons to make off with his wealth. When Clare was fourteen, he died and left his estate to his brother. The entire family tromped off to the town to inspect the fine mansion filled with elegant furnishing, fine paintings and sculptures, and exotic rarities from abroad. With such wealth the older married children could finally go off on their own and establish their own homes and farms.

Clare’s father, however, would hear none of that. With such wealth in front of him, he saw no reason why he should give large shares to his children. He could provide amply for them all, expand the house and farm, and give everyone plenty of room. Clare’s siblings, however, did not see eye to eye with their father. A simple disagreement began to turn in a deep rift between parent and child and began to fester and poison the rest of the family.

Clare had always been good with words, and could always soothe the childhood quarrels of her siblings. She tried to calm tempers, and for a while even succeeded. However, her oldest brother felt he had chaffed under his father’s rule long enough. Never mind that he had been happy only a few months before working side-by-side with his father. With the promise of wealth, luxury, and security within his grasp, he stole a large portion of gold and fled with his wife and children. Now an argument turned into a war, as some members of the family tried to take their portion of their wealth, while others tried to stop them. The guards were called, but were reluctant to apply the law to what they felt was just a family squabble.

Clare finally turned to the church, a local god of healing and poverty, for advice and succor. The old priest gave her certain seeds and told her to plant them before the gates of her father’s house and her dead uncle’s estate. They were enchanted white roses, and would only bloom when peace reigned in their family. If peace would not come, the roses would not bloom, but would instead grow and block the entrances to the homes that held such hate and sorrow within their walls.

Clare knew her family was heaping hurt upon hurt, with stealing of this, breaking of that, and now the wrongs were so tangled that no one could sort them out. She planted the roses, and within a single night they had covered both houses. Her family found they could leave them, but the thorny vines would not let them back in while war reigned within their hearts. Neither blade nor fire could kill the magical vines, and the family began to understand what was keeping them from their homes. Clare let them know the true key for regaining their home, but told them she had to leave. There was too much pain at home, too many times when her pleas for peace had been ignored. The pain her family had endured was finally starting to heal, but Clare was just beginning to realize how much more pain there was within the world.

As she had traveled between her farm and the town, she could see the same situation as her family played out with different players, on different scales, with different elements, but all leading to the same violence and pain. She realized that if she had been able to speak to her family earlier, much could have been prevented. Going to the priest again, she asked to enter into the church so that she could serve the cause of peace. The priest marked her with their symbol, the white rose, so that all would know that she was a bringer of peace. Also, because her family’s greed for wealth had torn her apart, she forsook material possessions, living as only the lowliest beggar could do. It was almost as how she lived when her family was happy, and it was this way that she could do the most good.

Misha “Burning Rose” Koldun

Class: Fighter 1
XP: 0
Race: Human (Careli Descent)
Alignment: Lawful Good
Patron: Raziel
Description: Misha is not particularly tall; he stands at about 5’8” and has a lean build with wild unruly hair. He wears his hair in braids around his left ear, the braids end in scintillating beads of various colors that shine brightly in the light. On his back he has a dark tattoo of a rose with flames leaping from it, hence his nickname. His skin is dark, and his eyes are green. He stays in good shape, and is always working to better his physical fitness.

Strength 14 (6 pts.)
Dexterity 12 (4 pts.)
Constitution 14 (6 pts.)
Intelligence 10 (2 pts.)
Wisdom 12 (4 pts.)
Charisma 16 (10 pts.)

Base Attack Bonus: +1
Melee Attack: +3
Ranged Attack: +2
Attack: "Honor" Masterwork Greatsword (+4 melee, 2d6+3, 19-20/x2), Dagger (+3 melee, 1d4+2, 19-20/x2), Shortbow (+2 ranged, 1d6, x3)
Fortitude Save: +5
Reflex Save: +1
Will Save: +1
Wounds: 14
Vitality: 12
Defense: 13 (+1 Dexterity, +2 Armor)
Damage Resistance: 2 (2 from Armor)
Initiative: +5

Skills: Diplomacy (2) +5, Knowledge – Religion (2) +2, Ride (4) +5

Feats: Servant of the Heavens, Power Attack, Improved Initiative

Special Traits: +1 skill point per level

Equipment: "Honor" Medium Masterwork Greatsword (Heirloom Item), Shortbow, 20 Arrows, Medium Dagger, Scale Mail, Backpack (Bedroll, Winter Blanket, Caltrops, Crowbar, Hooded Lantern, 50 feet Silk Rope, Grappling Hook), 2 Waterskins, Talia - Riding Horse (Military Saddle, Bit & Bridle, 2 Saddlebags), 28 GP, 4 SP

Languages: Lur

Background: Born into poverty, Misha was raised in a Lower Luri household; he was the last of six children and a burden from the day he was born. He never had things easy and could have become a thug working on the streets of Veltune if he didn’t have a revelation as a young boy coming into his own as a man.

Misha left his family at the age of six and was a street urchin; he was well on his way to becoming a street criminal. But at the age of ten he tried to rob the wrong person, a priest. His friends got away but the priest was able to nab Misha, and the poor boy had to face the music. Unlucky for the priest, real trouble was brewing when evil rivals to his faith tried to surprise and murder the priest.

Misha could not stand by as he felt that someone had to help the priest, and in that moment he made a choice that has lived with him ever since. He would protect others from the evil that exists in the world. Misha fought with all his might and although he got many bruises and cuts for his troubles the priest survived and drove off his attackers.

Misha was inducted as a youth into the monastery and trained at the priest’s behest. He learned the ways of the religious crusader and the path of the righteous. At the age of 17 he had a vision, a vision of a splendid warrior bathed in the golden glow of the exalted and righteous. The vision did not speak but he knew what it meant, and he has since taken the silent message to heart that he must fight to protect those that cannot protect themselves, and root out evil.

Misha will pursue Cleric after 4th level then Fist of Raziel prestige class at 8th level.

1. “Well that is an interesting question, such choices are hard for any man to make, even one such as I. But I would choose 12 of our number, those that were healthiest and most righteous, and split their number to six male, and six female. I would take two each of he youngest, three each of those that are adult, and two that have age and wisdom to aid the younger. I would stay behind to help those left, perhaps shepherd them onward,” Misha says with a heavy heart.

2. “The sins of the past hold a heavy toll on any man’s heart; but you must also measure a man’s redemption as well. I would not turn him in, because one must accept that he has redeemed and if there is no evil in his heart then I am not one to turn him away from the path, let him be an object lesson that one can turn away from a dark path. I know his plight well and perhaps sentiment clouds my judgment, but I would leave him be,” Misha finishes.

3. “Madness is perhaps a sign of evil; if he claims to have murdered the woman then who are we to fault him. I don’t see how this is difficult,” Misha says with a quizzical frown.

4. “I cannot hold to such a promise when an innocent man’s livelihood is at stake I must act. If he will not do the honorable thing and turn himself in, then I must break the promise and lose a friendship. I will not stand by and let another suffer needlessly,” Misha says adamantly.

Ralan

Class: Rogue 1
Race: Human
Alignment: Lawful Good
Patron: Ayala
Description:
Strength 14 (6 pts.)
Dexterity 12 (4 pts.)
Constitution 12 (4 pts.)
Intelligence 12 (4pts.)
Wisdom 14 (6 pts.)
Charisma 15 (8 pts.)

Base Attack Bonus: +0
Melee Attack: +2
Ranged Attack: +1
Attack: Masterwork Morningstar (+3 melee, 1d8+2 (+3 two handed), x2), Dagger (+2 melee, 1d4+2, 19-20/x2), Dagger-thrown (+3 ranged, 1d4+2, 19-20/x2, 10ft), Javelin-thrown (+3 ranged, 1d6+2, x2, 30ft)
Fortitude Save: +1
Reflex Save: +3
Will Save: +2

Wounds: 12
Vitality: 7
Defense: 8 (+ 3 Class, +1 Dexterity, + 4 Armor)
Damage Resistance: 2 ( from Armor)
Initiative: +1

Skills:

Skillpoints: 36+4 (Human)
armor check penalty: -2

Bluff : + 6 [ 4 Ranks + 2 (Cha) ]
Diplomacy : + 6 [ 4 Ranks + 2 (Cha) ] +2 bonus when interacting with good creatures
Disable device : + 7 [ 4 Ranks + 1 (Int) + 2 masterwork thief tools ]

Gather information : + 6 [ 4 Ranks + 2 (Cha) ]
Hide : + 3 [ 4 Ranks + 1 (Dex) -2 ARMOR PENALTY ]
Listen : + 6 [ 4 Ranks + 2 (Wis) ]
Move silently : + 3 [ 4 Ranks + 1 (Dex) -2 ARMOR PENALTY ]

Search : + 5 [ 4 Ranks + 1 (Int) ]
Sense motive : + 6 [ 4 Ranks + 2 (Wis) ] +2 bonus when interacting with good creatures
Spot : + 6 [ 4 Ranks + 2 (Wis) ]


Feats: Nimbus of light, Holy radiance

Special Traits: extra feat & 4 skill points at 1st level, +1 skill point per level
Sneak attack +1d6, trapfinding
Nimbus of light: Shine bright light within 5ft, shadowy illumination within 10 ft
Holy radiance: 1d4 damage to undead within 10ft

Equipment:

Item ; Price ; Weight ; Location
Explorer's Outfit with grey cloak ; 10 gp ; 8 lb ; Worn
Chain shirt ; 100 gp ; 25 lb ; worn
Holy symbol, wooden ; 1 gp ; 0 lb ; worn
Dagger ; 2 gp ; 1 lb ; Belt left
Dagger ; 2 gp ; 1 lb ; Belt right
Dagger ; 2 gp ; 1 lb ; strapped to right ankle
Javelins (2) ; 2 gp ; 4 lb ; Strapped to back, under cloak
Masterwork Morningstar (heirloom) ; 0 gp ; 8 lb ; tuck in belt on backside (covered by cloak)
Thieves' Tools ; 30 gp ; 2 lb ; Inside shirt (rolled in flexible case)

Backpack ; 2 gp ; 2 lb ; worn, back
Sack (empty) ; 0,1 gp ; 0,5 lb ; backpack
Trail rations (4 days) ; 2 gp ; 4 lb ; backpack
Winter Blanket ; 0,5 gp ; 3 lb ; rolled and strapped to backpack
Bedroll ; 0,1 gp ; 5 lb ; rolled with the blanket
Soap (per lb.) ; 0,5 gp ; 1 lb ; packpack
Scroll case ; 1 gp ; 0,5 lb ; packpack
Ink (1 oz. vial) ; 8 gp ; 0 lb ; In scrollcase
Inkpen ; 0,1 gp ; 0 lb ; In little box, properly protected
Parchment (5) ; 1 gp ; 0 lb ; In little box, properly protected
Iron Pot ; 0,5 gp ; 10 lb ; strapped to backpack
Shovel ; 2 gp ; 8 lb ; strapped to backpack
Handaxe ; 6 gp ; 3 lb ; backpack

Rope (silk) 50 ft ; 10 gp ; 5 lb ; packpack
Waterskins (1) ; 1 gp ; 4 lb ; packpack
Chalk, 10 pieces ; 0,02 gp ; 0 lb ; right belt pouch (note; 10 in packpack)

Belt Pouch ; 1 gp ; 0,5 lb ; worn, left side
Oil, 2x 1 pint flasks ; 0,2 gp ; 2 lb ; 2 pints in left belt pouch
2 Sewing Needles ; 1 gp ; 0 lb ; left belt pouch, pinned to a cork
Flint and Steel ; 1 gp ; 0 lb ; left belt pouch
Chalk, 2 pieces ; 0,02 gp ; 0 lb ; left belt pouch (note: 10 in packpack)
Small steel mirror ; 10 gp ; 0,5 lb ; left belt pouch, covered by cloth

Belt Pouch ; 1 gp ; 0,5 lb ; worn, right side
Bell ; 1 gp ; 0 lb ; right belt pouch


Money 2,96 gp right belt pouch

Total weight carried (with backpack) 99,5 lb
Total weight carried (without backpack) 53,5 lb

Languages: Trade and Lur

Background:
Ralan was the only son of a moderately wealthy merchant house from
Darisant, in Lurien. He led an easy life until his wife and only child were killed
by agents of evil. Stricken by grief and having lost all hope, he roamed from town
to town, drinking heavily and not caring about his own soul. One day, he was
attacked by thugs and to his great horror, they were undead. As he lay
dying, a being of light, a cleric, saved him. As if in a dream, as he saw the cleric fight off the undead, he had a vision of Ayailla, the mistress of light. He only saw her image in his
mind, but that was enough. In gratitude, he he gave away to charity what the possessions he couldn't carry and followed the cleric to his temple.

Ralan firmly believes that the dark lords create undead to to make mortals
suffer. Fortunately, Ayala, the mistress of light other gods of good, are there
to watch over and protect mortals from such aberations. His goal in life is now
to destroy undead wherever they can be found.

Ralan will multiclass into Cleric at level 3, take the cosmopolitan feat (gather information) & multiclass into cleric. This way, he can get the 8 ranks in gather information faster to enter the shadobane stalker prestige class.

-----------------------------------------------
Edit: June 13th 05: added 2 handed damage on morningstar

Shuelsai Deng

Still Under Construction tweaked as of June 01

Shuelsai Deng (SHkOOL-say DAeeNG)

Druid 1
NG Human Male
Homeland: An Island Somewhere Near Chunabo, Kurst
Height: 5'2
Weight: 105 lbs.
Hair: Deep Black
Eyes: An incongruous green
Age: Old looking, but it could just be the salt rime.

S 13 +1(5)
D 13 +1(5)
C 13 +1(5)
I 14 +2(6)
W 14 +2(6)
Ch 13 +1(5)

F +3 Vitality 9
R +1 Wounds 13
W +4 Defense Bonus +4

AC 15 (10+4DB+1Dex)
BAB+0
Melee +1/Ranged +1
Spear +1 Hit 1d8 DMG 20' Range Piercing
Sling -1 Hit 1d3 DMG 50' Range Bludgeoning

Skills (28+7/lvl) & Feats
Craft-Shipbuilding 2 (+4)
Handle Animal 2 (+3)
Knowledge-Nature 4 (+8)
Knowledge-Arcana(CC) 2 (+4)
Listen 2 (+4)
Profession-Navigator 2 (+4)
Profession-Sailor 2 (+4)
Spellcraft 2 (+4)
Spot 2 (+4)
Survival 4 (+8)
Swim 2 (+3)
Spell Focus (Conjuration)
Augment Summoning

Languages: Kurst, Druidic, Lur, Trade
Class Abilities: Animal Companion, Nature Sense, Wild Empathy
Patron: Bharrai

Animal Companion
Moro, A Bluetip Sea Hawk

Equipment:
Spear
Sling w/20 sling stones (-1 Attack, 1d3 dmg)
Flint & Steel
Fishing Net
Waterskin
Holly & Mistletoe
Peasant's Clothing (Shuelsai's clothes are quite clean, he usually wanders around in little more than a loincloth and maybe a turban)
82 gp unspent
Shuelsai's Boat (heirloom item, no stats yet)

Shuelsai is a sailor, like his father and grandfather before him. Unlike his more mercantile-oriented family though, Shuelsai sees much of the value in his homeland of Kurst as being its untouched wilderness and not the spoils that can be derived from within. Therefore he tutored under wise sea shamans that sailed the coasts of his homeland, learning his craft from them and how to live with the land and not despoil it.

Shuelsai is a humble man, given more to singing loudly out-of-key and teaching young children about the rigging of the sails or the names of birds than seeking out fame. He doesn't truly see himself as doing good deeds really, he just tries to do the right thing and somehow keep everyone smiling and laughing. In the end, Shuelsai doesn't necessarily "fight evil" at all - but he protects the people whom evil would diminish or harm. If that's heroic, so be it - Shuelsai would never claim it nor distress you by denying it.

Physically Shuelsai radiates a serene sense of brown when he's not smiling, which is isn't often. It's hard to say if the woody color is from birth or simply from years of lounging about decks tending nets. He's not very tall, nor particularly sturdy looking except when you realize that every pale line creased into his flesh is an old scar from a loose line or some sea creature.Shuelsai is missing a significant portion of his left ear and some teeth. He looks old, but not even Shuelsai could tell you how old exactly he is. Nor does he particularly care, though he's quite stoic about the fact that he's outlived three wives. Shuelsai's most startling feature though, are his twinkling green eyes. Not only do they look awfully out of place on the man, they look out of place on anyone from his entire village - or even the islands around Chunabo period. Shuelsai tends to explain this by wild tales about his father getting him on his mother during high tide, or a wild wedding party that ended up on the moon. The truth is that he doesn't know. Shuelsai is a creature of the present, not an artifact of his past.

Sharma - Human Bard 1

I'll update it to the appropriate template within a few days.


Appearance: XXXX

Background: A mere sixteen years of age, Sharma is a joyful spirit. Born into a simple working family in the city, his father worked as a common laborer near the city docks and his mother wove baskets, Sharma grew to appreciate the simplicities of life quite quickly. Without the stout frame of his father, his deft fingers aided his mother where he could, but too often he would sit and talk with the passer byes. Even at an exceptionally young age, he listened with a sharp ear and could impassion others with the classic epic tales. The listeners would smile and listen attentively, often leaving only after the tale had finished and often with a hand-weaved basket from his mother.

Business took an upturn and soon the young Sharma began to attract his own crowds, adventurers and others would come to him to spread their tales. Often, Sharma would listen, sip his tea and reconstruct the story from the details told to him, the best tales were those of the celestial heroes who would battle against the dark forces which attempted to corrupt and spoil the land and peoples. As a simple boy growing up, his stomach turned at the knowledge that there were those in the world who would whisper promises into your ear while they reached for the knife to cut your throat, and worse. He heard tales of the most atrocious beings, devils and demons, vile creatures who stole your soul and lived by devouring them, but at the same time he heard tales of the Holy Powers who appealed to man and beast alike to live in harmony, to strive against the toil of evil and darkness. It was in one such tale that he heard of the siblings Chaav and Lastai, a sister and brother of the heavens. They spoke of bringing joy to people, to take pleasure in the simple and natural parts of life, it was through this power that they turned against the vile darkness which used temptation and greed to taint the natural good in objects of beauty, in people, and in work.

To Sharma, this is what he did already, his life was to tell tales and bring people to understand the strength in the beauty of their lives, whether sick and destitute or wealthy and healthy. At first, Sharma associated most closely with the brother of the two powers, Chaav, his ideals spread the values of the joy and beauty in the simplest of lives. However, on Sharma’s sixteenth birthday he met a beautiful, young lass named Naomi. The two quickly fell in love, or at least as close to love as sixteen year olds come, and they spent the next two months together. She was the daughter of a merchant, who worked hard to make an honest living. It was a joyous time where Sharma learned the great passions of love and pleasure. His associations with the holy powers slowly shifted, from Chaav, the bringer of simple joy, to Lastai, the proponent of pleasure in it’s many forms, although Chaav kept a special place in his heart. Their love lasted nearly six months, however, Naomi’s father business began to fail, perhaps it was the mans’ love of others that doomed him, he was willing to give and give, but when it was time for them to return the favor it was not forthcoming. Soon, out of desperate measures to ensure the survival of his family, he turned to less than reputable sources for a loan. Things were better for a short while, but when they came to collect, he could not meet their demands. The last Sharma saw of Naomi was a blissful walk through the gardens. They disappeared into the night, her fathers business burned to the ground, and no trace of their family remained. Whispers spread of the fathers business with thieves guilds and other dastardly organizations.

Sharma was lost, he struggled, fought against the rumors but they spread nonetheless. At his young age, few believed him, despite his knack for relating the glorious tales of heroes. When it came time for them to listen to anything but heroics, those who had paid him heed turned their backs on the young man. Sharma, distraught and saddened, set out to seek his lovely Naomi. This is where he begins.

Bump so I can find this later.