D&D 5E [RG] Uller's Out of the Abyss
- Thread starter Uller
- Start date
This Effin’ GM
Hero
EVANDUR RAULSON!!! Male Human Paladin
[sblock] The visions have not left.
As a young man growing up in Cormyr, stories of valiant heroes were his bread and butter. Not nobly born, becomming a Purple knight of Cormyr would never be possible without divine intervention, but that certainly didn't keep a young farmboy from dreaming.
He was twelve when the visions began. They were small at first, guiding him to stop local bullies from picking on his friends just by putting him in the right place at the right time. The visions guided him to exercise and seek training from whomever he could in combat. Daily, he made worship to the unknown enitity giving the visions. On his 18th birthday, it was revealed to him that he was a chosen of Lathander, the morninglord. After confirmation from a priest in a nearby town, he was anointed a paladin and sent to train with the knights of Cormyr.
His parents were very proud.
Upon his graduation, he believed he was ready. His visions, growing stronger over years, began to show him a terror of fur and fang moving about by darkness underneath the light of a strange moon, terrorizing those who came across it's path. After traveling for months, he came upon the answer: a werewolf, terrorizing local citizens. He knew this was his destiny. He joined up with some other travelers, mercenaries, who claimed he would be their healer. Clearly they were unaware of the true power and purpose of a Paladin, but he did not care. He would achieve his destiny and likely convert his new comrades in the process.
His parents would have been proud.
They stalked the beast for three nights. Upon the third night, a confrontation came that him the chance to achieve his destiny and show the others what the power of a God can do. The beast met his challenge and a fight was had. The beast met his challenge and in the end, it was not the beast who lay on the ground, bleeding his last. As his comrades took flight from the fight which had quickly turned downhill, the final thing he heard from his companies leader was an offhanded remark about the uselessness of a dead do gooder.
He awoke some time later, no idea how time had past. The journey to his god's realm was far darker than he had imagined, filled with visions of the fanged beast laughing at him, mocking him, and strangely ebony skinned elves healing his wounds through poultices as they dragged him into the darkness. Impossible, he rememebered thinking. Dark Elves would never heal, they can only destroy. Everyone knew that. He awoke in that darkness. A cage of some sort. Unwashed, wounds stitched together efficiently, if not for comfort. The after life was uncomfortable, dark, and painful and he was alone. This delusion was of course shattered when his captors came to check on his status. Strong, handsome, and fallen they called him. Abandoned, they said. He did not speak their language but they knew words in his own. These words meant little to the word they use most often: slave. They laughed at his denials, mocked his screams of anger and pain, and reprimanded him brutally when he attempted to resist. He attempted resistance often. He held out unbroken for a long time.
His parents would have been proud, had they known he was alive.
He is broken now. He feels he is. He knows not what Lathander had in store for him, as the vision of the fanged beast continues to laugh. To destroy. Mocking him, the strange moon ever hanging overhead. The visions plague him when he sleeps, and the drow punish him when he wakes. His life is now series of pain with no end in sight. He will be sold soon, he assumes. A broken shell of a man, once a farmhand, once a paladin, but never a knight. Forever a slave.
The visions have not left.
Evendur Raulson
Human Paladin 1
Background: Soldier (Cavalry)
Str 16 (+3)
Dex 10 (+0)
Con 14 (+2)
Int 8 (-1)
Wis 12 (+1 or +3 Saves)
Cha 14 (+2 or +4 Saves)
HP 12 (1d10+2)
AC 10 (18 Fully Armored Chainmail and Shield)
Prof Bonus +2
Init +0
Speed: 40 Ft
Proficiencies
--------------
Weapons: Simple, Martial
Armor: Light, Medium, Heavy, and Shields
Saves: Wisdom and Charisma
Race
-------
Human
-+1 Str and +1 Con
-Feat (Mobility)
Paladin
-Lay On Hands (5hp per day)
-Divine Sense (3/Day)
Skills
-------
Athletics +5
Intimidation +4
Medicine +3
Perception +3
Persuasion +4
Languages
----------
Common, Elven
Equipment
-------------
Money: 10gp
Weapons
--------
Longsword +5 Attack 1d8+3 slashing damage (1d10+3 damage Two Handed)
Javelin +5 Attack 1d6+3 piercing damage (Range 30/120)
Armor
------
Chainmail, Shield
Others
-----
5 Javelins, Explorer’s Pack, cracked Holy Symbol of Lathander, Cavalry Insignia, werewolf fang, from the first encounter with the beast, on a necklace), deck of cards, belt pouch, and common clothes
[/sblock]
[roll=20]1d20[/roll]
[sblock] The visions have not left.
As a young man growing up in Cormyr, stories of valiant heroes were his bread and butter. Not nobly born, becomming a Purple knight of Cormyr would never be possible without divine intervention, but that certainly didn't keep a young farmboy from dreaming.
He was twelve when the visions began. They were small at first, guiding him to stop local bullies from picking on his friends just by putting him in the right place at the right time. The visions guided him to exercise and seek training from whomever he could in combat. Daily, he made worship to the unknown enitity giving the visions. On his 18th birthday, it was revealed to him that he was a chosen of Lathander, the morninglord. After confirmation from a priest in a nearby town, he was anointed a paladin and sent to train with the knights of Cormyr.
His parents were very proud.
Upon his graduation, he believed he was ready. His visions, growing stronger over years, began to show him a terror of fur and fang moving about by darkness underneath the light of a strange moon, terrorizing those who came across it's path. After traveling for months, he came upon the answer: a werewolf, terrorizing local citizens. He knew this was his destiny. He joined up with some other travelers, mercenaries, who claimed he would be their healer. Clearly they were unaware of the true power and purpose of a Paladin, but he did not care. He would achieve his destiny and likely convert his new comrades in the process.
His parents would have been proud.
They stalked the beast for three nights. Upon the third night, a confrontation came that him the chance to achieve his destiny and show the others what the power of a God can do. The beast met his challenge and a fight was had. The beast met his challenge and in the end, it was not the beast who lay on the ground, bleeding his last. As his comrades took flight from the fight which had quickly turned downhill, the final thing he heard from his companies leader was an offhanded remark about the uselessness of a dead do gooder.
He awoke some time later, no idea how time had past. The journey to his god's realm was far darker than he had imagined, filled with visions of the fanged beast laughing at him, mocking him, and strangely ebony skinned elves healing his wounds through poultices as they dragged him into the darkness. Impossible, he rememebered thinking. Dark Elves would never heal, they can only destroy. Everyone knew that. He awoke in that darkness. A cage of some sort. Unwashed, wounds stitched together efficiently, if not for comfort. The after life was uncomfortable, dark, and painful and he was alone. This delusion was of course shattered when his captors came to check on his status. Strong, handsome, and fallen they called him. Abandoned, they said. He did not speak their language but they knew words in his own. These words meant little to the word they use most often: slave. They laughed at his denials, mocked his screams of anger and pain, and reprimanded him brutally when he attempted to resist. He attempted resistance often. He held out unbroken for a long time.
His parents would have been proud, had they known he was alive.
He is broken now. He feels he is. He knows not what Lathander had in store for him, as the vision of the fanged beast continues to laugh. To destroy. Mocking him, the strange moon ever hanging overhead. The visions plague him when he sleeps, and the drow punish him when he wakes. His life is now series of pain with no end in sight. He will be sold soon, he assumes. A broken shell of a man, once a farmhand, once a paladin, but never a knight. Forever a slave.
The visions have not left.
Evendur Raulson
Human Paladin 1
Background: Soldier (Cavalry)
Str 16 (+3)
Dex 10 (+0)
Con 14 (+2)
Int 8 (-1)
Wis 12 (+1 or +3 Saves)
Cha 14 (+2 or +4 Saves)
HP 12 (1d10+2)
AC 10 (18 Fully Armored Chainmail and Shield)
Prof Bonus +2
Init +0
Speed: 40 Ft
Proficiencies
--------------
Weapons: Simple, Martial
Armor: Light, Medium, Heavy, and Shields
Saves: Wisdom and Charisma
Race
-------
Human
-+1 Str and +1 Con
-Feat (Mobility)
Paladin
-Lay On Hands (5hp per day)
-Divine Sense (3/Day)
Skills
-------
Athletics +5
Intimidation +4
Medicine +3
Perception +3
Persuasion +4
Languages
----------
Common, Elven
Equipment
-------------
Money: 10gp
Weapons
--------
Longsword +5 Attack 1d8+3 slashing damage (1d10+3 damage Two Handed)
Javelin +5 Attack 1d6+3 piercing damage (Range 30/120)
Armor
------
Chainmail, Shield
Others
-----
5 Javelins, Explorer’s Pack, cracked Holy Symbol of Lathander, Cavalry Insignia, werewolf fang, from the first encounter with the beast, on a necklace), deck of cards, belt pouch, and common clothes
[/sblock]
[roll=20]1d20[/roll]
Last edited:
Hmm, okay, maybe I won't go paladin this time...
EDIT: Or maybe, we are from the same order...
Last edited:
This Effin’ GM
Hero
Did you want to do paladin? I can 100% switch with no issue I left his background like that so if someone wabted that class I can say hes a paladin who has lost faith and go a different class!
I was planning on making the "black sheep" of the order, which would totally work alongside a "proper" Dawnbringer. I have no qualms about running a paladin alongside another paladin. I am going to be a slightly unoptimized Dex-based paladin. I was even going to be of Lathander, so our characters could know each other, or even have been captured together. (Read a little of your background, just to see if our concepts were too similar.) Let me present my background and see if you want to run side-by-side. Hey, two paladins wouldn't hurt...
Herobizkit
Adventurer
Here's a rough outline of Bertram "Tunnel Rat" Thornberry
Halfling Ranger 1
Background: Outlander
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (formerly Neutral Good)
Str 12 (+1)
Dex 16 (+3)
Con 14 (+2)
Int 12 (+1)
Wis 14 (+1)
Cha 8 (-1)
HP 12 (1d10+2)
AC 13 (14 leather)
Prof Bonus +2
Init +3
Speed: 25 Ft
Proficiencies
--------------
Weapons: Simple, Martial
Armor: Light, Medium, and Shields
Saves: Strength and Dexterity
Race
-------
Halfling, Stout
- +2 Dex and +1 Con
- Speed 25 feet
- Nimbleness: can move through space of any creature Med or larger
- Lucky: reroll 1 on an attack roll, skill check or saving throw
- Advantage on saves againt being frightened
- Advantage on poison saves; resistance to poison damage
Ranger
Favored enemy: Goblins and Kobolds
Favored terrain: Underdark
Skills
-------
Athletics (STR) +3
Investigation (INT) +3 (+5 if in Underdark)
Perception (WIS) +4 (+6 if in Underdark)
Stealth (DEX) +5
Survival (WIS) +4 (+6 if in Underdark)
Languages
----------
Common, Halfling, Goblin
Equipment
-------------
Money: 10gp
Weapons
--------
Shortsword +5 Attack 1d6+3 piercing and 1d6 piercing off-hand
Shortbow +5 Attack 1d6+3 piercing (Range 80/320)
Staff +3 Attack 1d6+1 bludgeoning or 1d8+1 two-handed
Armor
------
Leather
Others
-----
a dungeoneer's pack, a pair of short swords, a shortbow, 20 arrows with quiver, a staff, a hunting trap, a trophy from an animal you killed, a set of traveler's clothes, belt pouch
Characteristics
-----
Feature: Wanderer
You have an excellent memory for maps and geography, and you can always recall the general layout of terrain, settlements, and other features around you. In addition, you can find food and fresh water for yourself and up to five other people each day, provided that the land offers berries, small game, water, and so forth.
Personality:
I've lost too many friends, and I'm slow to make new ones.
I'm haunted by memories of war. I can't get the images of violence out of my mind.
Ideal:
Nation. My people are all that matter.
Bond:
I will bring terrible wrath down on the evildoers who destroyed my homeland.
Okay, this time for sure...
six-sided - (1d6)[3]
dee-20 - (1d20)[13]
Background:
[sblock]"There was a time when I saw daylight, when my tribe wandered the plains with the changing of the seasons. Then we came upon a paradise, an oasis among the foothills, lush and green with a lake full of fish and high mountain walls to protect us from the winter's winds.
Those hills were home to all sorts of vermin below the surface, however. Goblins. Kobolds. Rats the size of dogs. We didn't know where they were coming from; I volunteered to find out. I dedicated my time to crawling through burrows and warrens, mazes of darkness and rock, seeking out these meddlesome pests.
One day, can't remember when now, I returned from a hunt to find my tribe under attack. I couldn't believe my eyes to see Elves, their blades glinting in the moonlight, skin as black as the sky above. I couldn't understand their speech, but they sounded like they were laughing, maybe even singing... in the blink of an eye, my tribe lay strewn about, killed to the last.
I wanted to rush them, to avenge their deaths with my own blades... but no. No, I chose to judge these... these Drow... not as Elves, but as monsters. As vermin. And they needed to be exterminated.
I followed them as they returned below ground, tracked them for days before I realized that they must have known I was following them all along... Maybe they had a rear guard, or they sent someone to double-back on me. Next thing I knew, I felt a crack on the back of my head, and then...
Well, here I am. Prisoner of these... creatures. Now I'm trapped within their cells, tortured, beaten, forced to play their twisted games...
It doesn't matter what you do with my flesh, you bastards. You're all going to be stuck like squealing kobolds and flayed for what you've done to my people.
All I need to do is wait. Wait... and survive."[/sblock]
Halfling Ranger 1
Background: Outlander
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (formerly Neutral Good)
Str 12 (+1)
Dex 16 (+3)
Con 14 (+2)
Int 12 (+1)
Wis 14 (+1)
Cha 8 (-1)
HP 12 (1d10+2)
AC 13 (14 leather)
Prof Bonus +2
Init +3
Speed: 25 Ft
Proficiencies
--------------
Weapons: Simple, Martial
Armor: Light, Medium, and Shields
Saves: Strength and Dexterity
Race
-------
Halfling, Stout
- +2 Dex and +1 Con
- Speed 25 feet
- Nimbleness: can move through space of any creature Med or larger
- Lucky: reroll 1 on an attack roll, skill check or saving throw
- Advantage on saves againt being frightened
- Advantage on poison saves; resistance to poison damage
Ranger
Favored enemy: Goblins and Kobolds
Favored terrain: Underdark
Skills
-------
Athletics (STR) +3
Investigation (INT) +3 (+5 if in Underdark)
Perception (WIS) +4 (+6 if in Underdark)
Stealth (DEX) +5
Survival (WIS) +4 (+6 if in Underdark)
Languages
----------
Common, Halfling, Goblin
Equipment
-------------
Money: 10gp
Weapons
--------
Shortsword +5 Attack 1d6+3 piercing and 1d6 piercing off-hand
Shortbow +5 Attack 1d6+3 piercing (Range 80/320)
Staff +3 Attack 1d6+1 bludgeoning or 1d8+1 two-handed
Armor
------
Leather
Others
-----
a dungeoneer's pack, a pair of short swords, a shortbow, 20 arrows with quiver, a staff, a hunting trap, a trophy from an animal you killed, a set of traveler's clothes, belt pouch
Characteristics
-----
Feature: Wanderer
You have an excellent memory for maps and geography, and you can always recall the general layout of terrain, settlements, and other features around you. In addition, you can find food and fresh water for yourself and up to five other people each day, provided that the land offers berries, small game, water, and so forth.
Personality:
I've lost too many friends, and I'm slow to make new ones.
I'm haunted by memories of war. I can't get the images of violence out of my mind.
Ideal:
Nation. My people are all that matter.
Bond:
I will bring terrible wrath down on the evildoers who destroyed my homeland.
Okay, this time for sure...
six-sided - (1d6)[3]
dee-20 - (1d20)[13]
Background:
[sblock]"There was a time when I saw daylight, when my tribe wandered the plains with the changing of the seasons. Then we came upon a paradise, an oasis among the foothills, lush and green with a lake full of fish and high mountain walls to protect us from the winter's winds.
Those hills were home to all sorts of vermin below the surface, however. Goblins. Kobolds. Rats the size of dogs. We didn't know where they were coming from; I volunteered to find out. I dedicated my time to crawling through burrows and warrens, mazes of darkness and rock, seeking out these meddlesome pests.
One day, can't remember when now, I returned from a hunt to find my tribe under attack. I couldn't believe my eyes to see Elves, their blades glinting in the moonlight, skin as black as the sky above. I couldn't understand their speech, but they sounded like they were laughing, maybe even singing... in the blink of an eye, my tribe lay strewn about, killed to the last.
I wanted to rush them, to avenge their deaths with my own blades... but no. No, I chose to judge these... these Drow... not as Elves, but as monsters. As vermin. And they needed to be exterminated.
I followed them as they returned below ground, tracked them for days before I realized that they must have known I was following them all along... Maybe they had a rear guard, or they sent someone to double-back on me. Next thing I knew, I felt a crack on the back of my head, and then...
Well, here I am. Prisoner of these... creatures. Now I'm trapped within their cells, tortured, beaten, forced to play their twisted games...
It doesn't matter what you do with my flesh, you bastards. You're all going to be stuck like squealing kobolds and flayed for what you've done to my people.
All I need to do is wait. Wait... and survive."[/sblock]
Last edited:
Code:
Name: Damaia
Class: Warlock 1
Race: Tiefling
Background: Acolyte
Size: Medium (5' 3"; 166 lbs.)
Gender: Female
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Deity: Loviatar
Str: 8 (-1) HP: 8 (1d8)
Dex: 13 (+1) AC: 11
Con: 10 (0)
Int: 15 (+2) Speed: 30
Wis: 12 (+1) save: +3 Init: +1
Cha: 17 (+3) save: +5 Passive Perception: 11
Skills: Abilities:
Acrobatics +1 Ability Score Increase (Racial; +2 CHA, +1 INT)
Animal Handling +1 Darkvision 60 ft.
*Arcana +4 Resistance to Fire
Athletics -1
*Deception +5 Pact Magic (Regain all expended spell slots after short or long rest)
History +2 Otherworldly Patron (Great Old One)
*Insight +3 Awakened Mind (can communicate telepathically with any creature you can see within 30 ft.)
Intimidation +3
Investigation +2
Medicine +1
Nature +2
Perception +1
Performance +3
Persuasion +3
*Religion +4
Slight of Hand +1
Stealth +1
Survival +1
Proficiencies:
Armor: Light
Weapons: Simple
Tools: None
Languages: Common, Deep Speech, Infernal, Undercommon
Weapon Attack Damage Type Range
Attack Spell (CHA) +5 By Spell
Spell Slots: 1
Cantrips: Eldritch Blast, Mage Hand, Thaumaturgy
First Level: Arms of Hadar, Hex
Equipment:
Money:
Personality Trait: I am intolerant of other faiths and condemn the worship of other gods.
I see omens in every event and action. The gods try to speak to us, we just need to listen.
Ideal: Aspiration. I seek to prove myself worthy of my god's favor by matching my actions against his or her teachings.
Bond: I would die to recover an ancient relic of my faith that was lost long ago.
Flaw: I judge others harshly, and myself even more severely.Capture was intentional. Damaia is hunting down an ancient relic of Loviatar's to help her sect overcome the oppression of the other faiths that comes with worshiping the mistress of pain. Tomes and texts speak of it being rumored as hidden among the people of the Underdark, but going that route alone is a death wish. The best way to get into the Underdark and closer to the relic is by having them escort you in. And the only way that happens is if you are a slave. So she allowed herself to be captured just inside one of the entrances near Waterdeep, hoping that she would be brought further into the caverns and caves, and just maybe into Menzoberranzan itself.
Now, getting free of these spider-loving heathens is another story...[/sblock] [sblock=Portrait]
Character[sblock]Ezraen half-elf (drow) paladin 1
Ability Scores: Str 12; Dex 16; Con 12; Int 10; Wis 10; Cha 16
Background: Criminal (burglar)
hp: 11
AC: 17 (chain shirt and shield)
Prof bonus: +2
Saving Throws: Wisdom, Charisma
Attacks: rapier (melee 5 ft. reach, +5 atk, 1d8+3) OR sling (range 30 ft./120 ft., +5 atk, 1d4+3)
Skills: Religion (+2), Insight (+2), Stealth (+5), Sleight of Hand (+5; swapping out Deception from burglar), Perception (+2), Acrobatics (+5)
Proficiencies: All armors and shields, simple and martial weapons, thieves’ tools
Languages: Common, Elvish, Dwarvish
Racial traits: Darkvision (60’), Fey ancestry (advantage on saving throws v. charm, and magic cannot put you to sleep), Skill versatility (proficient in 2 skills of choice - Perception, Acrobatics)
Class features: Divine Sense (PHB p. 84), Lay on hands heal 5 hp/long rest (PHB p. 84)
Personality trait: I am a bit of a scoundrel, but I sure make a loveable one! I do what is right, even if it means going against the law
Ideals: Redemption There is a spark of good in everyone. Sometimes they just need a second chance
Bonds: I accidentally killed a noble, whose house I was burgling. The order of the Dawnbringers gave me a chance at redemption and a place in their service.
Equipment: chain shirt, shield (w/ holy emblem engraved), thinblade (rapier), daggers (x2), sling, pouch w/ 20 sling stones, priest’s pack, mess kit[/sblock]
Backstory
[sblock]Ezraen was born of violence in one of many drow raids to the surface hamlet of Espar, near Cormyr. His mother, unable to come to abort the pregnancy, left the child at an orphanage in a nearby town. Ezraen grew up among children like him, yet he was always the outsider. No matter what he did, or how nice he was, he could not outrun the stigma of his dark elf heritage.
Inevitably, he fell into the wrong crowd, and soon he was burgling the houses of the rich that he felt needed to be ‘taken down a peg’. Following a strict code, Ezraen tried to always make sure that no one got hurt when they burglarized a home, regardless of whether they were on his team or a resident of the house. For almost half of a year, he and his band had a measure of success, and were starting to build a reputation amongst both the common-folk and the nobles of the region.
One day everything turned South. One nobleman took it upon himself to gain prestige by being the one to catch these ruffians, and laid in wait in a secret compartment in his house. While Ezraen and his gang began divesting the noble of his finery, the nobleman sprung out, stabbing one of the scoundrels through the heart with his rapier, and shooting another with a crossbow. The young half-drow heard a window shatter as the last of his mates barreled through the window, and he scrambled to escape! The haughty nobleman cut him off, taunting him as he swished his rapier back and forth threateningly.
“Draw your blade, blaggart! Die knowing that you were defeated by Duke Wysterial Vallancourt!” the noble demanded.
The only weapon that Ezraen had was a knife, what was he going to do? He slipped back and forth, throwing whatever he could at the mad noble to distract him. The young half-elf frantically hopped off the bannister down to the first floor. White hot pain ran up Ezraen’s leg as it twisted awkwardly beneath him, leaving the burglar sprawled across a plush carpet.
Duke Vallancourt stalked down the stairs like a cat about to pounce on wounded prey. “Sad little rabbit, you picked the wrong den to stick your nose in…”
The Duke’s scream split the air, as Ezraen’s knife hilt protruded from the top of his foot, blood staining the carpet below! The burglar yelped as the noble’s blade tore through the flesh of his shoulder, but Ezraen lunged toward the Duke anyway and shoved him back as hard as he could.
The silence was deafening. Ezraen looked up to see the look of shock on Duke Wysterial Vallancourt as the life faded from his eyes, a spearpoint protruding from his chest. All the commotion had caused one of the spears from a decorative suit of armor to fall forward. The world spun…
The town guard found Ezraen trying to stop the life’s blood from spilling out from the nobleman’s heart. An act that may have saved his life…
--
The trial was quick and the sentence was death. Only intervention by the Knight Grace of the Order of the Dawnbringer stayed the executioner’s blade.
The ceremony was solemn and Ezraen the burglar died that day. A life of pain, loneliness, and anger washed away with the cold water at dawn. The acolytes laid the vestments upon the young half-drow as the Knight Grace led him through his vows. Ezraen the Dawnbringer rose that day, looking out at the sunrise. Today is a new day… [/sblock]
Ability Scores: Str 12; Dex 16; Con 12; Int 10; Wis 10; Cha 16
Background: Criminal (burglar)
hp: 11
AC: 17 (chain shirt and shield)
Prof bonus: +2
Saving Throws: Wisdom, Charisma
Attacks: rapier (melee 5 ft. reach, +5 atk, 1d8+3) OR sling (range 30 ft./120 ft., +5 atk, 1d4+3)
Skills: Religion (+2), Insight (+2), Stealth (+5), Sleight of Hand (+5; swapping out Deception from burglar), Perception (+2), Acrobatics (+5)
Proficiencies: All armors and shields, simple and martial weapons, thieves’ tools
Languages: Common, Elvish, Dwarvish
Racial traits: Darkvision (60’), Fey ancestry (advantage on saving throws v. charm, and magic cannot put you to sleep), Skill versatility (proficient in 2 skills of choice - Perception, Acrobatics)
Class features: Divine Sense (PHB p. 84), Lay on hands heal 5 hp/long rest (PHB p. 84)
Personality trait: I am a bit of a scoundrel, but I sure make a loveable one! I do what is right, even if it means going against the law
Ideals: Redemption There is a spark of good in everyone. Sometimes they just need a second chance
Bonds: I accidentally killed a noble, whose house I was burgling. The order of the Dawnbringers gave me a chance at redemption and a place in their service.
Equipment: chain shirt, shield (w/ holy emblem engraved), thinblade (rapier), daggers (x2), sling, pouch w/ 20 sling stones, priest’s pack, mess kit[/sblock]
Backstory
[sblock]Ezraen was born of violence in one of many drow raids to the surface hamlet of Espar, near Cormyr. His mother, unable to come to abort the pregnancy, left the child at an orphanage in a nearby town. Ezraen grew up among children like him, yet he was always the outsider. No matter what he did, or how nice he was, he could not outrun the stigma of his dark elf heritage.
Inevitably, he fell into the wrong crowd, and soon he was burgling the houses of the rich that he felt needed to be ‘taken down a peg’. Following a strict code, Ezraen tried to always make sure that no one got hurt when they burglarized a home, regardless of whether they were on his team or a resident of the house. For almost half of a year, he and his band had a measure of success, and were starting to build a reputation amongst both the common-folk and the nobles of the region.
One day everything turned South. One nobleman took it upon himself to gain prestige by being the one to catch these ruffians, and laid in wait in a secret compartment in his house. While Ezraen and his gang began divesting the noble of his finery, the nobleman sprung out, stabbing one of the scoundrels through the heart with his rapier, and shooting another with a crossbow. The young half-drow heard a window shatter as the last of his mates barreled through the window, and he scrambled to escape! The haughty nobleman cut him off, taunting him as he swished his rapier back and forth threateningly.
“Draw your blade, blaggart! Die knowing that you were defeated by Duke Wysterial Vallancourt!” the noble demanded.
The only weapon that Ezraen had was a knife, what was he going to do? He slipped back and forth, throwing whatever he could at the mad noble to distract him. The young half-elf frantically hopped off the bannister down to the first floor. White hot pain ran up Ezraen’s leg as it twisted awkwardly beneath him, leaving the burglar sprawled across a plush carpet.
Duke Vallancourt stalked down the stairs like a cat about to pounce on wounded prey. “Sad little rabbit, you picked the wrong den to stick your nose in…”
The Duke’s scream split the air, as Ezraen’s knife hilt protruded from the top of his foot, blood staining the carpet below! The burglar yelped as the noble’s blade tore through the flesh of his shoulder, but Ezraen lunged toward the Duke anyway and shoved him back as hard as he could.
The silence was deafening. Ezraen looked up to see the look of shock on Duke Wysterial Vallancourt as the life faded from his eyes, a spearpoint protruding from his chest. All the commotion had caused one of the spears from a decorative suit of armor to fall forward. The world spun…
The town guard found Ezraen trying to stop the life’s blood from spilling out from the nobleman’s heart. An act that may have saved his life…
--
The trial was quick and the sentence was death. Only intervention by the Knight Grace of the Order of the Dawnbringer stayed the executioner’s blade.
The ceremony was solemn and Ezraen the burglar died that day. A life of pain, loneliness, and anger washed away with the cold water at dawn. The acolytes laid the vestments upon the young half-drow as the Knight Grace led him through his vows. Ezraen the Dawnbringer rose that day, looking out at the sunrise. Today is a new day… [/sblock]
This Effin’ GM
Hero
My rolls, which wont let me on editing my post.....
[roll0]
[roll=isitgonnawork?]1d6[/roll]
[roll0]
[roll=isitgonnawork?]1d6[/roll]
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