The Lost Patriarch PC's

All TLP players please post charecters here.

Ackalon Holerson Rogue/Ranger 5/1 Half-elf Chaotic Neutral

Str: 10 0 (2pts)
Dex: 16 +3 (10pts)
Con: 12 +1 (4pts)
Int: 14 +2 (6pts)
Wis: 10 0 (2pts)
Chr: 13 +1(4pts +1 level 4)

Hit points: 36
AC: 17 (10 +3 Dex +2 leather +2 magic)
Initiative: +7 (+3 Dex +4 Improved Initiative)
BAB:+4
Melee: +8 Short Sword (+1magic +3weapon finess)or +6/+5 2 weapon fighting
Range: +8 Light crossbow
Dam: 1d6+1 shortsword, 1d8+1 Light Crossbow

Feats:
Track, Improved Initiative, Weapon Finess (Short Sword), Combat Expertise, 2 Weapon Fighting, Favored Enemy (goblinoids), Evasion, Uncanny Dodge, Sneak Attack +3d6

Languages:
Elven, Commen, Goblin, Orc

Saves:
Fort: +4...Ref: +7...Will: +1 (immune to sleep +2vs enchantments)

Skills.......................Rank...........Stat.......Mod......Total
Appraise....................6...............2.......................8
Bluff.........................6...............1.......................7
Climb........................4........................................4
Decipher Script...........3...............2.......................5
Profession(Merchant)...3........................................3
Disable Device............6...............2...........2...........10(with mw thief tools)
Gather Info................4...............1........................5
Hide.........................7...............3.........................10
Listen.......................4............................1............5
Move Silently.............7...............3.........................10
Open Lock.................6...............3............2...........11(with mw thief tools)
Search......................7...............2...........1............10
Sense Motive.............4..........................................4
Spot.........................7............................1............8
Use Rope...................3...............3.........................6
Craft (Bowyer)...........2...............2.........................4
Ride.........................2................3........................5
Wilderness Lore..........5..........................................5

Equipment:
Leather Armor +2 4160gp 15#
+1 Light Crossbow 2335gp 6#
+1 Short Sword 2310gp 3#
Short Sword 10gp 3#
30 Quarrels (lt crossbow) 3gp 3#
Bag of Holding (type 1) 2500gp 15#
Potions:
* 8 Cure Light Wounds 400gp
1 Cure Mod Wounds 300gp
* 2 Blur 600gp
Light Riding Horse with riding saddle 85gp
*Backpack 2gp 2#
*Waterskins x2 2 gp 2#
*x2 Silk Rope 20gp
Masterwork Thieves tools 100gp 2#
*Explores outfit 10gp 8#
*7 Days Trail Rations 3gp 5sp 7#

*in bag of holding until needed
Enc:
49#
Medium Encumberance (20'speed)
Monies:
256gp 5sp

Background:

The only son of a elven woman and human merchant of a moderate city in Fallon, Ackalon was raised to take over the buisness when he came of age. He watched as his father paid both guards and thieves "protection" funds, which coincidently drove his buisness into the ground. As he grew into adulthood, he deceided that the only way to survive in this envirnment was to look out for number 1...himself. Joining up with a group of young thieves, The Tattered Ferrets, they started their own "protection" rackets, along with minor crimes started moving into (without thinking) another syndicates area. Normally this would of resulted in being beaten or warned off, but the new "Head" of the local crime family deceided that these young upstarts should be made a example of. He "arranged" a meeting of the Tattered Ferrets with some corrupt guards and had them all arrested...during the trials the youngsters were given a choice, join the militia or serve a good amount of time in prison. Ackalon, like several of his friends, opted for the military.
Due to his natural stealth, and lack of physical strength, he found himself in the forest and border patrols conscripted out to the main forces. As a boisterous young man, he initially found the experience exciting, but as time progressed and seeing several of his friends slain in ambushes and straight up fights, he deceided the army life was not for him. Leaving his post after 10 months of duty (he was conscripted for 2 years) he sought the fortune his natural abilities brought him. He has done quite well for himself finding his skills quite useful to adventuring companies and other mercenary groups (not to mention his larceny skills in towns)and one day does plan on returning back to Fallon to seek out the man who sent him out...and replace him as head of his own syndicate.

Appearance:
Ackalon is a slim being...taking after his mothers elven side more then the human. 5'3" tall and only 115# he looks as though a strong breeze will carry him away. His elven heritage left him with the typical pointed ears (not above his head though...that looks silly) and slightly angular features. His hair, not regularly washes is black and very unkempt. He keeps to himself, listening more then talking, although when the subject of money comes up he definitly lights up and more then likely begins to take quite an interest in what is being discussed.

Thromgril Ruukenschlager

Thromgril Ruukenschlager
Male Dwarf
Barbarian 2 / Fighter 4

STR 17 +3 (10pts. + 4th lvl.)
DEX 12 +1 (4 pts.)
CON 16 +3 (6 pts.)
INT 10 +0 (2 pts.)
WIS 12 +1 (4 pts.)
CHA 8 -1 (2 pts.)

Hit points: 71
AC: 16 (10 +1 Dex +4 chain shirt +1 magic)
Initiative: +1 (+1 Dex)
BAB:+6/+1
Melee: +11/+6 Greataxe (+1 magic +3 Str, +1 focus)
Range: +7 Shortbow
Dam: 1d12+7 Greataxe(+1 magic, +4 Str.2H, +2 spec.), 1d8 Shortbow
*Raging: +13/+8 Greataxe 1d12+10 dam.

.........Bs...Ab...Msc...Mod

Fort:...7...+3...+1......11
Ref:....1...+1...+1.......3
Will:....1...+1...+1.......3

..............................Rk......Ab..........Mod

Climb........................5......+3...........8
Craft (stone).............1.....(+2)..........3
Craft (carpentry)........1......+0...........1
Handle Animal.............1......-1............0
Intimidate..................2......-1............1
Intuit Direction...........2......+1............3
Jump........................9......+3...........12
Listen.......................9......+1..........10
Swim........................1.....+3...........4*
Wilderness Lore..........5.....+1............6

Rage 3x day
Uncanny Dodge

Power Attack
Cleave
Weapon Focus: Greataxe
Weapon Spec.: Greataxe
Power Critical: Greataxe
Extra Rage

+1 Keen Greataxe 8320
+1 Amulet of Natural Armor 2000
+1 Cloak of Resistance 1000
Masterwork Chain Shirt 400
Potions
Bull’s Strength x2 600
Cure Moderate x2 600
Short Sword 10
Dagger x2 4
Shortbow 30
20 Arrows 1
Backpack, Bedroll, Blanket 3
Crowbar 2
Grappling Hook & 50’ Rope 3
Hammer & Spikes x5 1
Pick 3
3 Empty Sacks +
2 Empty Flagons 1
Stonemasons Kit 5
Carpentry Kit 5

Walkin’ Around Money - 12gp (hehe)


Thromgril was born into a prosperous clan of dwarves, who made their mark prospecting in the hinterlands of the Iscag Mountains. The veins of ore were untouched, and the clan busied themselves felling trees on the mountainside to support their burgeoning mining efforts. Wheels moved water, giant stones were crushed, chords upon chords of lumber were cut, and finally, the elder craftsmen began to delve deep into the mountain. Though very young, Thromgril was put to work in the lumberyard and in the shafts, building his strength and his skills.

One night like any other, Thromgril was chopping wood on the far end of the camp after dusk. A strange feeling crept over him, he felt the animals of the woods scamper as if a storm was brewing, yet he saw no clouds. And then there were horns. Foul blasts from the tusks of some fell beast, bellowing through the trees. Though he was still young and quite short, Thromgril sprinted as fast as he could back to the clan's encampment. Chaos ensued as the warband of foul orcs swarmed over the timber walls of the makeshift fort. Thromgril watched as uncles, cousins, and elders of his clan fell one by one to the jagged blades of the green skinned monsters.

Maybe it was luck, or his size that let him be ignored just long enough to get to his family's burrow. Finding it empty, and on the verge of sheer panic, Thromgril's heart nearly burst when his own mother, dirt and blood caked into her once luxurious sideburns, came bursting through the door. Tears streaming down her face, she held what could only be his father's torque in her hands, drenched in blood; Thromgril knew full well, that ancestral collar had fit too tightly around his neck to be removed peaceably. Suddenly, with a loud thud, her body seized up, and she fell to the ground, a thrown axe deeply buried in her back. The torque rolled to Thromgril's feet. The smell of blood mixed with the overpowering stench of orc offal hung in the air as the lumbering shape of the wolfrider approached. A long, nasty, crooked knife was pulled from the rider’s belt, as he uttered some guttural slur and made and obscene gesture with his privates. As Thromgrill bent to pick up his father’s torque, he was nearly lifted off the ground by his hair, as the orc made a hideous gash in his cheek. Before losing consciousness, the last thin he remembered was the blade of a sword spilling through the orc’s neck. And then there was blackness.

Thromgril awoke to the sound of water and an old dwarf coughing. Olie, the lame, sonless stonecutter, was sitting next to him, the rushing of an underground stream was behind him. He tore his beard as he relayed to the young Thomgril the fate of their clan. The bloodline was broken, and the clan’s treasure, the famed Karaakstone…lost. Olie also told him that they could never again return to Firebreath Hall with honor, and pay homage to King Thendar as a clan of the Forge. Indeed that was the day when Thromgril forgot his clan’s own name, and took that of Ruukenschlager, the slayer of orcs.

For many moons they lay hid, using the access tunnels that were built to divert water out of the mines. Olie taught him many things, how to hide, and to hunt, but mostly, how to hate. The old dwarf died in the night, leaving Thromgril what little they had saved from the fires of the orcs pillaging. Thromgril swore an oath on his mentor’s dead body: he will regain his clan’s honor in the throes of battle, his death will be known in Firebreath Hall, and even the King himself will know his name as the fell doom of all Goblinoids. Then, Thromgrill took his knife and did things to his hair and beard which are unspeakable in proper dwarven society. And with his giant axe slung over his shoulder, Thromgril came down from the mountain…….

Appearance:
Thromgril is definitely unforgettable. He has an immense torso, huge arms, and hands the size of hams. His chain shirt barely fits him. It has a tendency to ride up over his rotund belly, which he is quite proud of, and will slap it to punctuate his boisterous dialogue. His legs are barely visible from the front due to this massive gut. His male pattern balding has been shaved up from the neckline to make a tight horseshoe around his head from ear, to ear. Thromgril has a tendency to spike this "fringe" using whatever animal fat is available, regardless of whatever smell accompanies it. His beard has been shaved *shudder* down to what most dwarves would consider a handlebar mustache. But all others see it as an enormous growth of facial hair, shaved on the lower lip and straight down, and also straight down the middle of his cheeks. These remaining four locks he sometimes decorates with strange objects tied into them. Thromgril's drinking habits often leave him waking up in the morning with strange tattoos. Did I mention the smell?

Personality:

Thromgril is a gruff, even amongst dwarves. He respects strength and endurance, on the battlefield and in the tavern. His sad past, and grave oath have led him to a life of near social solitude. He has a sense of humor, though not a legendarily good one. He is loyal to any who will witness him in battle, hoping to one day have a chronicler of his deeds. Unfortunately, he has scared off or outlived most of these.

Skarsus Coldfate

"Skarsus Coldfate"

Fighter 6 Human Neutral Good

Str: 16 +3 (10 pts)
Dex: 16 +3 (8 pts +1 level 4)
Con: 14 +2 (6 pts)
Int: 10 +0 (2 pts)
Wis: 8 -1 (0 pts)
Chr: 10 +0(2pts)

Hit points: 62

AC: 21 (10 +3 Dex, +5 majick chain shirt, +3 majick lg wooden shield)

Initiative: +3 (+3 Dex)

BAB:+6/+1

Melee:
+11/+5 +1 Long Sword (dam 1d8+6, crit 17-20 x2)
+9/+3 Heavy Lance (dam 1d8+3 *x2 if used from horseback, x6 inc. Spirited Charge, crit 20 x3)
+9/+3 Dagger (dam 1d4+3, crit 19-20 x2)

Ranged:
+9/+3 Mighty Composite Shortbow +2 (dam 1d8+2, crit x3)


Feats:
Mounted Combat (Bonus - Human)
Ride-By Attack (lvl1)
Spirited Charge (Fighter lvl2)
Power Attack (lvl3)
Cleave (Fighter lvl4)
Weapon Focus *Longsword* (Fighter 6)
Weapon Specialisation *Longsword* (lvl6)

Saves:
Fort: +7 (+5 base, +2 con)
Ref: +3 (+2 base, +3 dex, -1 armour, -1 shield)
Will: +2 (+2 base, +0 wis)

Skills.......................Rank...........Stat.......Mod......Total
Handle Animal.............7...............0............0...........7
Spot..........................0..............-1...........0..........-1
Listen........................0..............-1...........0..........-1
Jump.........................2...............3............0..........5
Climb.........................2...............3............0..........5
Ride..........................7...............3............-2.........8
Wilderness Lore...........4..............-1............0..........1

Equipment:
+1 Chain Shirt 1250gp
+1 Large Wooden Shield 1157gp
+1 Keen Longsword 8315gp
Heavy lance 10gp*
Mighty Composite Shortbow (+2) 225gp
40 Arrows 2gp*
Dagger 2gp
Explorer's Outfit 10gp
Waterskin 1gp
Whetstone 2cp
2 Sacks 2sp*
50' Hemp Rope 1gp*
Belt Pouch 1gp
3 Torches 2cp
Flint & Steel 1gp
2 Winter Blankets 1gp*
Backpack 2gp
4 Potios of Cure Moderate Wounds 1200gp
2 Potions of Bulls Strength 600gp
1 week of Trail Rations 35sp*
Heavy Warhorse 400gp
Studded Leather Barding 100gp
Military Saddle 20gp
Saddlebags 4gp*
Bit and Bridle 2gp
1 Week of Feed 35cp*

*These items are stored in saddle-bags on Palientha

Monies: 236gp, 3cp

"Palientha" - Heavy War Horse (Large Creature)

Str 18 +4, Dex 13 +1, Con 17 +3, Int 2 -4, Wis 13 +1, Cha 6 +2

AC: 17 (-1 size, +1 dex, +4 natural, +3 barding)
HP: 44
Initiative: +1
Speed: 50'
Melee: 2x Hooves +6 (dam 1d6+4)
Bite +1 (1d4+2)
Special Abilities: Scent
Skills: Listen +7
Spot +7

Appearance:

Skarsus Coldfate is not tall for a man of Mier standing only 5'8". Proud in stature regardless of his shortcoming, the shortcut dark hair'd (Long is the current fashion with Mier males, blonde being the common colour.) lad has proven that he has every right to ride next to his fellow warriors in battle. He is both muscular and lithe, and shows great ability in the saddle - many's the bandit he has brought down with sword or lance. His young features show a wisdom lacking in most, eyes seemingly those of a youngster, bely his experiences that his beard and battle scars would suggest otherwise. He is dressed in a standard Mierian cavalryman's armour and helm with dark red cloak and breeks (That denote the Keep he rides out from), his magical blade, "Skevnor" scabbarded at his thigh.

Background:

Skarsus came from a humble background, a farmer's son, expected to be a farmer just as his father's father had been. Skarsus had never understood why anyone would want the life of a farmer in Mier. The lands were near barren - tilling the soil was near impossible with the rocks that infested the ground at all levels and acidic dirt that would provide poor conditions for any but the most hardy (and usually the least profitable) crops. His life was uneventful and rather typical of a lad in the farming communties along the border with Fallon. Occasional raids by Fallonese bandits meant that a constant military presence by Mier Riders was neccessary and so Skarsus dream of leaving his humble beginnings started.....

"I was fourteen and the year's crops had been taken in, ready to be taken to market. Me Mam and Pa and me big sis' Astlod were alseep, but I was still awake and watched the stars, waiting for a shooting star to wish on. I heard Droppin', our goat bleat (which she never did cos she was the best of all our goats) and snuck downstairs to see what was botherin' her, thinkin' maybe it was a fox. Peeking into the darkness, I saw the forms of men sneekin' about. They were headed to the barn where our turnips were bein' stored until we could get the monies together with our neighbour Poerst to rent some wagons and horses, and I knew they were thievin'. So I heads back to the house to wake Pa. He told me to go hide in the attic and I did, and he grabbed my great-granpa's sword "Skevnor" and went to meet them. I was everso scared, though I did my best to try to watch him. Ma and Astlod had kitchen knives in their hands and holed themselves up in Ma and Pa's bedroom. I was so sure that Pa could make the bad men leave. He snuck into the barn and I heard a terrible scream. Then I saw him run out and knew he had gotten one of them. But as he came to the house one man who had hided himself came out of a shadow and stuck his knife in Pa's back. O, it was horrible! I screamed and heard Ma and Astlod whimper and forced myself to make not one sound more. But the man had heard, and after wiping his knife on Pa's shirt, he called to the other men and they all came into the house. I couldn't see cos I was hided, but I heard the screams..... My Ma and sis'. I ran down and with a stool in my hand went to hit one of them and he grinned and sliced my face with his knife and I don't remember much else.
It was the smoke that woke me. I was in the arms of a 'Rider and he was putting a rag to my head. My home was on fire and my family was gone. I didn't even try to see their bodies, cos I knew it would have been too much. I had no-where to go, so I joined the local Riders at their barracks as a stable boy. It were'n't long before I was old enough to start training as a Rider meself. Now it's the end of my first year as a Rider and I've seen my fair share of scraps I tells ya.

Thing is, why would one of them wizard-men want me to help him? Per'aps he can show me the stars, perhaps he can spell my Ma and Pa back from the grave?

Derrik Forgehammer, Cleric 6


Appearance: When not covered from head to toe in the dark-gray suit of adamantine fullplate, Derrik often wears a sleeveless tunic with a leather smithy apron and a pair of trousers, all of them with their fair share of pit and scorch marks from embers flying from the forge. His face maintains a rough pondering visage most of the time, thoughts of some forge creation rambling through his head. His eyes are soft and a deep brown, almost like pits of freshly turned earth. His skin is soft despite the many hours spent in front of the forge, his callouses, although quite obviously covering his hands are not rough but rather smooth like marble. When gearing for battle he appears the visage of a dark-gray mountain of plating, his shield prepped before him and his warhammer swung over his shoulder.

Background: Born to the son of a gem merchant within the great Firebreath Hall, Derrik's father quickly noticed his son's interest in the forge, as the boy would disappear for hours only to be found watching one of the master smiths at work, quiet and at ease. Using his influence, Derrik's father was able to land an apprenticeship with the head smithy in the Hall upon Derrik's fifteenth year.

For many years Derrik studied with the master smith, slowly gaining even greater reverence for the forge. The art of smithing became a spiritual act for the young Derrik and despite being generally unschooled in the ways of the clergy, he soon found a divine spark in the forge which he has since kindled into true faith. Derrik's apprenticeship was the longest ever within the hall, the master knowing the potential within the earnest young lad. Seventy years had passed under the master's tutelage and the divine spark within the forge he had begun to embrace apart from the following of Justico.

For a year he stayed within Firebreath Hall but felt unable to truly tap his potential without having first been through the world. Setting out from the Iscag Mountains, he travelled through the kingdom of Ultimia learning how to work his spirit into the items he crafted from the forge, visited the elves of Gahalamear, skirted the edges of Necromia and has even served as a blacksmith for the great horsemen of Mier. He is currently traveling with his two mules (Aeon and Minutia) and serving those causes he feels compel his heart and hammer.

Drawn to the city of Skyrium by a mysterious messenger, Derrik has been recruited, along with another dwarf, a sea-elf, a half-elf and a human, by a mage of the Golden Citadel. The Chieftan of Skelandgrief threatens the last vestiges of civility upon the continents with the Sceptre of the Sea Dragon and only the lost kingdom of Amun, destroyed thousands of years ago, can hope to prevent such a fate. They have set out to Zakor in the realm of the Mier under the direction of a horseman of the same country, each having received a gift from the mage. Derrik's gift being a pair of gauntlets of ogre power.

Personality: He serves those causes he feels are strong and pure, has little use for the exact word of the law but still knows the strength it holds in keeping together a nation. Derrik has all too often seen the way words twist and squirm and does not appreciate it when too much talk and not enough action occurs. Derrik has found his own faith apart from the deities, his spiritual connection to the forge fuels his hand at the forge and in battle.

Zar-Vroxiar Xiglinous, Elf of the Dark Waters

Zar-Vroxiar Xiglinous, Elf of the Dark Waters.
Sea Elf
Wizard (Transmuter) Level 6
(School specialization: Transmutation. Prohibited schools; Abjuration & Enchantment)

Alignment: True Neutral

STR:... 10 ……….+0
DEX:…. 16 ……….+3
CON:... 12 ……….+1
INT:.... 16 ……….+3
WIS:…. 10 ……….+0
CHA:... 10 ……….+0

HIT POINTS: 25

ARMOR CLASS: 18 …….(+3 Mod)…(+5 Armor)
ARCANE SPELL FAILURE: 10%
ARMOR CHECK PENALTY: -0

SAVING THROWS
SAVE……….Total…..Base……Mod……Cloak
Fortitude:.. +4 ……..+2………+1………+1
Reflex:…….. +6 ……..+2………+3………+1
Will:..………. +6 ……..+5………+0………+1

BAB: +3
SPEED: 60 feet
INITIATIVE: +3

FEATS
1st Spell Focus (Evocation)
3rd Light Armor Proficiency
5th Spell Focus (Necromancy)
6th Spell Mastery

CLASS SKILLS
Alchemy: +11 …(+8 Ranks)…(+3 Int)…
Concentration: +10 …(+9 Ranks)…(+1 Con)…
Knowledge Arcana: +8 …(+5 Ranks)…(+3 Int)…
Knowledge Planes: +7 …(+4 Ranks)…(+3 Int)…
Spellcraft: +8 …(+8 Ranks)…(+3 Int)…

CROSS CLASS SKILLS
Hide: +6 …(+3 Ranks)…(+3 Dex)…
Move Silently: +6 …(+3 Ranks)…(+3 Dex)…
Search: +7 …(+2 Ranks)…(+3 Int)…(+2 Race)…
Listen: +5 …(+2 Ranks)…(+0 Wis)…(+2 Race)…

LANGUAGES SPOKEN
* Native Languages
Common*
Aquarian*
Elven
Aquan
Draconic
Skarnor
Undercommon

SPELL BOOK
* Transmutation Spells
# Spell Focus (+2DC for Evocation and Necromancy Spells)
($) Spell Mastery
L0
Arcane Mark, Dancing Lights, Detect Magic, Detect Poison, #Disrupt Undead, #Flare, #Light, Ghost Sound, *Mage Hand, *Mending, *Open/Close, Prestidigitation, Ray of Frost, Read Magic.
L1
*Animate Rope, *Burning Hands, Change Self, Charm Person, #Chill Touch, Comprehend Languages, *Erase, *Expeditious Retreat, *Feather Fall, Grease, Identify, *Jump, ($)Mage Armor, #Magic Missile, *Magic Weapon, *Message, Mount, Nystul’s Undetectable Aura, Obscuring Mist, #Ray of Enfeeblement, *Reduce, *Spider Climb, Summon Monster I, #Tenser’s Floating Disk, True Strike, Unseen Servant, Ventriloquism.
L2
*Alter Self, Blur, *Bull’s Strength, *Cat’s Grace, *Dark Vision, *Endurance, Invisibility, ($)Invisibility, *Knock, *Rope Trick, #Spectral Hand, Summon Monster II.
L3
Displacement, ($)Fire Ball, Flame Arrow, *Fly, #Gentle Repost, Leomund’s Tiny Hut, Lightning Bolt, Summon Monster III, Tongues, #Vampiric Touch, *Water Breathing.

SCROLLS
L1
Animate Rope, Burning Hands, Change Self, Charm Person, Chill Touch, Comprehend Languages, Erase, Feather Fall, Grease, Jump, Mage Armor, Magic Missile, Message, Mount X3, Nystul’s Undetectable Aura, Obscuring Mist, Ray of Enfeeblement, Reduce, Spider Climb, Summon Monster I, Tenser’s Floating Disk X2, Unseen Servant X2, Ventriloquism.
L2
Alter Self, Blur, Cat’s Grace, Dark Vision, Invisibility X2, Knock, Rope Trick, Spectral Hand.
L3
Displacement, Flame Arrow, Gentle Repost, Leomund’s Tiny Hut, Lightning Bolt, Summon Monster III, Tongues.

EQUIPMENT
+1 Mithral Shirt
+4 AC (Armor Bonus), +1 AC (Magic), +6 Max Dex Bonus.
10% Arcane Spell Failure, No Armor Check Penalty
10 pounds
1,100gp Mithral Shirt + 1,000gp +1 Magic = 2,100gp

Cloak of Resistance +1
All saves +1, 1,000gp

Heward’s Handy Haversack
2,000gp

Boots of Striding and Springing
Double movement rate, +10 Jump. 2,500gp

Rapier (20gp)
Long Bow (75gp)
40 Arrows (2gp)
Dagger (2gp)

Acid, Flask (10gp)
Caltrops x2 (2gp)
Candle x10 (1sp)
Case, Map or Scroll x4 (4gp)
Chalk x10 (1sp)
Flint and Steel (1gp)
Holy Water, Flask (25gp)
Ink, 1oz (8gp)
Ink Quills x10 (1gp)
Mirror, small steel (10gp)
Oil, pint x4 (4sp)
Sack x2 (2sp)
Silk Rope, 50’ (10gp)
Smoke Stick (20gp)
Sunrod x 4 (8gp)
Soap (5sp)
Spell Component Pouch (5gp)
Spellbook, blank, extra (15gp)
Tindertwig x 10 (10gp)
Trail Rations, 6 days (3gp)
Traveler’s Outfit (1gp)
Waterskin x3 (3gp)
Winter Blanket (5sp)

Total Spent: 12,470gp, 8sp
Remaining Money: 530gp, 2sp








A spark.

A flame springs to life, fueled by magic. Cackling and swirling, the flame grows and yet, condenses, increasing in density and pressure while growing brighter and hotter. A miniature sun takes form between the hands of a grinning young wizard.

The gasps of his peers feeds his pride. He knows that the spell he is now casting is beyond most of them and not even taught until the later years of the Royal Atlantia Academy of Magic because of the dangerous nature of the spell.

The Fire Ball but waits for its master’s command.

Then, suddenly, the spell fizzles and the glowing ball of intense flame disappears. Zar-Vroxiar looks at the space between his hands where he once “held” the dangerous spell and his mind races to figure out what happened.

“Dispel Magic, Zar.” Came the voice of a cocky lad. “I cast it on you.”

Zar glares up at the grinning Sea Elf, his rival since arriving at the Academy. Nrovalius was the most popular young Elf in the Academy, he was even a fair wizard. He was several years older than Zar-Vroxiar, and two class levels above. But, even so, Zar was the most promising young wizard in the school and since day one, he’d been out to prove it. Nrovalius was loved by everyone, popular, athletic, smart, witty, funny, good-looking and successful in everything he did.

Naturally, Zar hated him.

“The terms of the duel, I believe, was that the loser must leave the Academy forever.” Nrovalius grinned as he sashayed up to Zar.

“You said that you would use only one spell.” Zar-Vroxiar spat back at him.

“And I have!” Nrovalius said joyfully.

“You’ve only cancelled magic in the area, you’ve not beaten me.” Zar replies angrily, wondering why Nrovalius is so pleased.

“Not yet, I haven’t.” Nrovalius replies as he leaps forward. Zar turns to run out of the radius of the dispel magic spell but isn’t quick enough as Nrovalius grabs him by the cuff of the neck, spins him around, grins and says, “You lose.” He says as his fist plows into Zar’s face.

20 years later.

Nrovalius’ fist and the cheers of the students gathered around watching the duel haunt Zar-Vroxiar to this day. His gray eyes glare at the fire warming the area. The snoring of the fat, useless mercenary to his left makes him grit his teeth and wish he knew a Silence spell. He’d have known it had he not challenged Nrovalius to that duel. He’d have known it if he have not underestimated his opponent. But Nrovalius taught him a valuable lesson that day.

Zar-Vroxiar had always been hungry for power and there was no mightier force in heaven, on Men’Thar or under it than magic. And few ever showed the promise at mastering the great power than he. His family was poor, too poor to afford the school. But because of his unmatched talent with minor tricks as a boy, a wealthy merchant chose to sponsor him and paid the bill. In only a few years at the Academy, he’d raced past his peers in his class and the class ahead of him.

But Zar was hungry for power and too proud to be satisfied with it, but wanted everyone to acknowledge him for his power. He was not as liked as Nrovalius and so, in the eyes of his peers, not as talented as he. Zar had challenged him to the duel to prove to everyone that he was going to be the greatest wizard to graduate the academy and not Nrovalius.

In his quest for glory, Zar-Vroxiar had not considered the actual rules. He’d expected Nrovalius to duel him, magic to magic. Nrovalius knew he could not match Zar, spell for spell. But the terms of victory were not specific, only that one of them be defeated. And Nrovalius beat Zar that day liked he’d never been beat before. Zar had learned a valuable lesson that day. While magic might be the greatest power, it was not the only kind of power. Wealth was power, charisma held power and among other things, the physical body also holds power as his missing right K-9 testified to.

Shamed and penniless, Zar fled the Atlantia. His dreams of being the greatest wizard of Atlantia became instead a quest to learn anything he could about magic. While his abilities had grown, he knew he was not the wizard he would have been with just a few more years in the academy and, worse, that he would never be able to achieve the kind of power he could have achieved had he been able to stay in the school.

He looked at the fat mercenary next to him and the swill swigging Ax-man just beyond. The roguish Halfling across from Zar belched and passed out, spilling the rest of his ale in the stew pot warming in the fire.

“Probably doubled the quality of the stew.” Zar thought angrily, knowing he could catch on with a more respectable band of adventurers, probably in the next town.

Zar looked up into the sky and smiled at the stars. Yes, things were not where he’d like them to be, but there was always tomorrow and another adventure filled with more for him to learn. He stood as the dwarf toppled over onto his sleeping mat, gathered his things, helped himself to 500 pieces of the parties gold (Which would be his cut… at least, he figured it would be close enough) and strode out of camp. He’d be long gone before the booze wore off and considering the dwarf was the parties tracker, Zar felt safe enough with only a half hour’s head start to say nothing of the entire night’s head start that he had.

Vendetta said:

Man, Ferrix, that's the coolest character sheet!

Click to expand...

I'd take the credit but I can't it's the Living EN World standard character sheet. It is mad sweet, although the equipment section can get tedious with all of those spaces.