Whitlok ir’Khasamenn
Story[sblock]That confirmed it in his mind. The merchant sitting outside the emporium and sipping from an expensive looking crystal glass, that shimmered in the sparse afternoon light, sported eight rings upon his chubby, immaculately manicured fingers and that marked him out for special attention; those simple gold bands marked him as an enemy, a member of the Aurum. Whitlok sighed, he had been in Korth for less than an hour and already he had stumbled across a diversion. A diversion that would likely make him late for his meeting, and he hated being late. But the simple fact of the matter was that if he didn’t act now he would be distracted during the meeting and Hanable hated it when he was distracted and didn’t pay close enough attention to the customers wants. So, those waiting for him would just have to continue waiting, he’d get to them when he had finalised this pressing business.
Whitlok whistled sharply and a large badger moved ponderously out of the shadows of the cart which had conveniently been providing a quiet place out of the way to doze. He reached down and stroked the top of the badger’s head with his dirty, stubby fingers. His gaze never left the gaudily dressed human that he had been watching now for the better part of ten minutes.
“So Digga, looks like we gotta lil’ job ta do fore our meetin” He muttered as he distractedly scratched at his wide, oft-broken nose. “But we be need’n a c’motion, sumtin to get this fella off t’ main street.”
He grunted as he stood, an old back injury making him wince in discomfort, and straightened his large, floppy, wide brimmed hat, the front of which had been pinned up so as not to obscure his vision. He looked left and right down the busy thoroughfare, weighing up opportunities for distraction. He spied a cart being drawn by two oxen and grinned – perfect, now all he needed was to make them bolt and that was something that Digga, with his sharp teeth and a well placed bite to the leg, was very good at. Unfortunately it also meant that there might be some damage to the street, an unavoidable side effect of his line of work. He was about to kneel and whisper his plan to Digga when he spied a figure wrapped in a dark, heavy cloak approach the merchant. The figure stopped at the left shoulder of the merchant, bent down so his mouth was equal with the merchant’s ear and whispered urgently while gesticulating towards the mouth of a nearby alley.
“Now this looks promisin’ Digga”, Whitlock said as a broad grin spread across his heavily weathered face. His square, blocky yellowing teeth, normally hidden behind his dark moustache, double-braided beard and depreciating scowl, flashed in the afternoon sun. “Looks like tis day might jus’ be a ripper after all me ol’ friend”.
Across the street the merchant rose heavily to his feet, his wide paunch stretching the expensive fabric of his expertly stitched and embroidered tunic. He eyed the crowd around him distastefully until his eyes settled on a mailed thug leaning against a nearby building. The merchant tilted his head imperceptibly at the warrior and motioned for the cloaked figure to lead the way.
“Interestin”, Whitlok mumbled under his breath “looks like tis jus’ got a lil’ bit difficult”. He quickly adjusted the straps on the chain shirt that fit snugly over his wiry body and stamped some life back into his feet.
Luckily for Whitlok he knew exactly where the alleyway that the pair made their way towards led. He watched as the warrior eased his way from the wall and strode nonchalantly after the pair. Whitlok studied the man, who he saw now was more boy than man, probably hadn’t even seen service in the war he thought to himself. The boy carried himself with an air of self-importance, he swaggered as if the street was his and even threatened an old woman that had the audacity to accidentally bump into him.
“Typical of the stingy bastards” Whitlok whispered to Digga, “tryin’ to save a few gold, buys substandard goods and now he’s gonna pay. Hehe, this is gunna be fun Digga, time for the old tag n’ trip me ol’ mate”
Digga slowly perambulated the crowded street, following the young warrior who was even now reaching the mouth of the alleyway. Whitlok, on the other hand, quickly raced up the street in the opposite direction, having to roll under the pair of startled oxen that blocked his way forward as they continued to work their way ponderously up the street. He careened around the corner of the next alleyway, climbed expertly up on to a pile of wooden kegs and launched himself into the air fingers scrabbling to catch hold of the rooftop. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as the roof gave a groan but he managed to kick his legs and throw his weight forward pivoting and rolling sideways on to the roof before a handful of tiles slipped from their housing and crashed to the alley below.
“Thank Balinor” he managed to squeeze out as he pushed himself to his feet. He pulled Khezek, his ancestral urgosh, from it’s sheath upon his back and steadied himself as he quickly made his way across the rooftop. Luck seemed to be with him this day, the damned Aurum was so confident in his wealth and the ability of the guard that trailed him, that he wasn’t even bothering to try and be unobtrusive. He was making enough noise, arguing heatedly with someone, the cloaked stranger Whitlok presumed, that he would never even hear the attack coming. Whitlok reached the far edge of the roof, caught sight of the merchant and his cloaked comrade and launched himself into the air.
He landed on his feet with a heavy thud, the soles of his high, black leather boots absorbing most of the impact. Letting the momentum of his leap tip him forward he drew his shoulders in and curled into a ball tumbling between the startled pair. The Aurum slouched to the ground and let out a scream as the razor sharp axe blade sliced through his Achilles heel. Whitlok rolled to a stop, sprung to his feet, spun and growled at the cloak figure.
“It’s the dandy man I want, I have no beef with ye at t moment and ye’d be best off keeping it tat way”
The cloaked figure looked down at the hamstrung man who was screaming and clawing at the hem of his cloak. He stomped on the merchant’s fingers and spat in disgust.
“You can have him dwarf.” A silky voice purred from the depths of the hooded cowl, “He has proven he is of no use to my mistress but I mark ye, and I will tell my mistress of what transpired here this day, and, know this, if my mistress desires it you will die. Know this to be true.” Before Whitlok could react the cloaked figure whispered ancient magic and disappeared in a swirl of inky darkness.
Whitlok quickly turned his attention to the warrior that was warily making his way down the street, his sword blade wavering as he held it resolutely before him. The merchant was slowly dragging himself up the alley, trying desperately to claw his way to freedom, a bloody trail marking his route in the dirt of the alley, flies starting to gather to lap thirstily at the mans lifeblood as it leaked into the ground.
The merchant wasn’t going to get far, not, at any rate, before Whitlok took care of the inexperienced warrior. He quickly advanced down the alley towards the young fighter, his axe shaft cradled comfortably in his hands. He wanted this over with quickly, and wanted the boy unbalanced. He glared at the boy, mustering all his years of experience in the Karrnathi army into his stride and bearing, trying to impress upon the young man just how much trouble he was in. The boy swung his sword threateningly before him; sweat beading on his brow, the tip of his blade dropping slightly as his immature muscles struggled to keep the heavy blade steady.
Whitlok broke into a run. The boy steadied himself for a charge but he wasn’t expecting what happened next. The dwarf hurtled down the alley and skidded to a halt just in front of the boy warrior, who quickly stepped back, tripped over the badger that had quietly snuck up behind him and fell heavily to the ground, the sword spilling from his grasp. Whitlok kicked the blade further away and jammed the point of his urgosh at the boys exposed throat, stopping just short of actually piercing the skin.
“Let this be a lessin for ye brat.” Whitlok thundered as he kept a wary eye on the boy “I watched ye bully the peasants in the street earlier, let’s see just how threatin’ ye are without that yard of cold steel at yer side. Stand, slowly like and strip”. The boy got shakily to his feet “I was only doin’ me job” he muttered as he unbuckled his armour and let it fall to the ground.
Whitlok addressed the badger without taking his hands from the haft or his eyes from the boy “Digga, go and see t’ that mewlin’ bastard that be makin’ ‘is way down t’ alley, don’t let ‘im go any further ‘fore I get t’ chance t’ finish ‘im orf.’ The badger ambled slowly up the alley, bearing down on the unfortunate merchant whose once immaculate clothing was now bedraggled and caked with blood, vomit, snot and tears.
“Now boy, tat weren’t doin’ no job, nope, you was employed t’ protect that snivellin’ ‘eap o’ trash back there n’ look at ‘im. If you’d spent more time doin yer job n’ less time parading around like some popinjay ye might’ve found yerself still employed and not in t’ unfortunate position you’re in at t’ moment.” The boy, was openly weeping and shaking and had stripped down to all but his smalls. “and those boys” Whitlok growled looking at his undergarments. “And then you can march on down the street or I’ll let me lil ‘airy friend over there bite ye dangly bits.” That was enough for the boy, he threw his (now thoroughly soiled) undergarments to the ground and raced down the alley and out of sight.
Whitlok turned back to the merchant that now lay still in the middle of the alley a short distance away, the bulky badger standing before him and blocking his progress forward. Whitlok strode resolutely down the dusty alley. His face set in a determined scowl. The merchant looked up at the bulky mass of the angry dwarf.
”Why?” he gasped “what have I done to you?”
“You chose t’ wrong side” Whitlok spat as the point of his urgosh flashed downwards “This is fer me kin you Aurum dog.”[/sblock]
Stats
Code:
Whitlok ir’Khasamenn
Dwarf Ranger 4/Extreme Explorer 1 (XP 11,750) Alignment: CG
Height: 4'8" Weight: 167lbs. Age: 58
hair: black, blonde streaks eyes: blue skin: dark, dusty
Region of Origin: Mror Holds
Action Points: 9 (d8)
STR 16 +3
DEX 16 +3
CON 13 +1 (+2 racial)
INT 15 +2
WIS 14 +2 (+1 4th level)
CHA 8 –1 (-2 racial)
HP: 36 (8 + [URL=http://invisiblecastle.com/find.py?id=95106]HERE[/URL] + 5 con)
Current HP: 18
Init: +3
BAB/Grapple: +4/+7
Speed: 20ft
Urgosh Axe Head (+1): +8 or +6 (fighting two handed) – 1d8+4 (1+3)
Urgosh Spiked End (masterwork): +8 or +6 (fighting two handed) – 1d6+1
Light Cross Bow Shock: +7 – 1d8 + 1d6 (electrical)
Heavy Mace: +7 – 1d8+3
Dagger: +7 1d4+3
+1 vs orcs and goblinoids
ACP: -1 (masterwork)
AC: 18 (+1 chain shirt; +3 Dex)
Touch/Flatfooted: 13/15
+4 dodge vs Giants
Fort: +5 (+2 vs poison)
Ref: +9
Will: +3 (+2 vs spells and spell like abilities and effects)
Skills:
Balance 3 (1 rank, DEX bonus, -1 ACP)
Climb 5 (3 ranks, STR bonus, -1 ACP)
Disable Device 3 (1 rank, INT bonus)
Handle Animal 2 (3 ranks, CHR bonus)
Hide 7 (5 ranks, DEX bonus, -1 ACP)
Jump 6 (4 ranks, STR bonus, -1 ACP)
Knowledge (Dungeoneering) 6 (4 ranks, INT bonus)
Knowledge (Geography) 5 (3 ranks, INT bonus)
Knowledge (Nature) 6 (4 ranks, INT bonus)
Knowledge (History) 3 (1 rank, INT bonus)
Listen 6 (4 ranks, WIS bonus)
Move Silently 7 (5 ranks, DEX bonus, -1 ACP)
Open Lock 4 (1 rank, DEX bonus)
Search 6 (4 ranks, INT bonus)
Spot (4 ranks, WIS bonus)
Survival 9 (7 ranks, WIS bonus)
Swim 6 (3 ranks, STR bonus)
Tumble 4 (2 ranks, DEX bonus, -1 ACP)
Use Magic Device 1 (2 ranks, CHR bonus)
Use Rope 6 (3 ranks, DEX bonus)
+2 racial check on appraise and craft for metal or stone items
+2 racial bonus to search stone
Languages: Common, Dwarf, Undercommon, Orc.
Feats:
Aberrant Dragonmark – Pass Without Trace
Action Boost
Endurance (class ability)
Two Weapon Fighting (Combat Style class ability)
Abilities:
Racial
Darkvision 60’
Stonecunning
Weapon Famililarity (Dwarf War Axe and Urgosh)
Stability
Ranger
Favoured Enemy – Aurum
Track
Wild Empathy
Combat Style (noted under feats)
Endurance (noted under feats)
Animal Companion – badger
Extreme Explorer
Additional Action Points
Trap Sense +1
Deity: Balinor
Spells: (1 1st bonus spell)
1-lvl spells (DC13)
Speak with Animals
Items:
Chain Shirt +1 (1250gp)
Urgosh +1 (Axe head) (2650gp)
Hewards Handy Havesack (2000gp)
Light Crossbow Shock (2335gp)
4 Potions Cure Light Wounds (200gp)
Potion Jump (50gp)
Potion Mage Armour (50gp)
Dagger
Heavy Mace
40 Crossbow Bolts
Hunters Broach
Hewards Handy Havesack (5 lbs)
Centre Pocket (80lbs)
Winter Blanket
Grappling Hook
Bullseye Lantern
Miners Pick
50’ Silk Rope
Shovel
Tent
Bedroll
Crowbar
Hammer
7 Days Iron Rations
2 Waterskins
Right Pocket (15 lbs – 5 remaining)
Cold Weather Outfit
Explorers Outfit
Identification Papers, with Portrait
Left Pocket (12 lbs – 8 remaining)
5 Candles
3 Map Cases
3 Fishhooks
2 Empty Flasks
Flint and Steel
Small Steel Mirror
Clay Tankard
Sewing Needle
Whetstone
Climbers Kit
Total wt: 59 lbs.
Monies: 1030gp
DIGGA
Badger (small animal)
HD: 1d8+2 (do you want to roll this or can he have max?)
Init: +3
Spd: 30' (6 squares); Burrow 10' (2 squares)
AC: 15 (+1 size, +3 dex, +1 natural), touch 14, flat-footed 12
BAB/Grapple: +0/-5
Attack: Claw +4 melee (1d2-1)
Full Attack: 2 claws +4 melee (1d2-1) and bite -1 melee (1d3-1)
Space/Reach: 5'/5'
Special Attacks: Rage
Special Qualities: Low-Light Vision, Scent, Link, Share Spell
Saves: Fort +4, Ref +5, Will +1
Abilities: Str 8, Dex 17, Con 15, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 6
Skills: Escape Artist +7, Listen +3, Spot +3
Feats: Track, Weapon Finesse
Tricks: Guard
Digga is an old badger, his fur has largely turned white and is quite long and shaggy compared to the normal badger. He is lazy and likes to eat and sleep. He is faithful though and respects Whitlok. They work well together although Whitlok is afraid that Digga is reaching the end of his life, he seems to be sleeping more and disappearing for stretches at a time.
Background[sblock]Whitlok is the last sane surviving member of his immediate family. Most of the minor families that had ties to his clan have been assimilated into other clans now. Clan Khasamenn is affectively dead. His mother is in an asylum in Atur after losing her mind when she discovered the bodies of her husband and most of their children in an apparent murder/suicide. Whitlok, the eldest of the children, had been training in Khyber at the time of the tragedy. Whitlok could not believe that his father could have done such a shallow, selfish act.
The apparent murder/suicide severely affected the clan’s social standing. They went from socialites to social pariahs. The downfall of Khasamenn's mercantile interests was swift and brutal.
Whitlok mourned like any son would, he convalesced his mother and did what he could to assist the former families of his clan. Eventually he had to sell up his family’s holdings to Antus ir'Soldorak. Whitlok took his mother and moved down to Karrnath. He joined the Karrnathian army so that he could afford to have his mother properly cared for. It was during this time, showing a natural aptitude for scouting, that he was trained in the arts of stealth and woods lore by elven strike troops in Karrnwood. It was also during this time that he met his friend, Digga.
Early in his army career Whitlok met Hanable. It was during a job protecting a caravan that was travelling between Karrnath and Talenta. Hanable happened to be travelling in the same direction and so joined the caravan for a period. Hanable liked the young, quiet dwarf and told him of the Hunters. Whitlok was impressed by the quiet authority and confidence Hanable exuded and, long after their brief encounter, Whitlok still remembered the strength of the man.
At the end of the war Whitlok tracked down the man that had left such an impression on him (well Hanable lets him believe that he tracked him down). Still needing an income to support his mother he was seeking work. Hanable had told Whitlok some of his plans for the Hunters and Whitlok craved action. Whitlok signed on immediately and has been working for Hanable for the last 2 years.
Hanable had discovered the truth about the unfortunate events that had befallen the Khasamenn's and told Whitlok of the link between Antus ir'Soldorak and the Aurum. The wrongness of his father’s actions had rubbed him raw over the last 5 years. He could not reconcile the actions of the man with the father he knew and loved. Hanable helped him uncover the truth. His father had gone against the wishes of the Aurum and had cost them a lucrative deal. The deaths of his family had been pay back.
Whitlok swore revenge, but Hanable counselled patience. "Revenge is a dish best served cold" he told Whitlok. "You can not hope to derail the Aurum single handedly. You need training, skills, magic to counter their's, patience my friend."[/sblock]
Picture of Whitlok and Digga
