Exclusive Contest! Todd Lockwood draws your character! [NO MORE ENTRIES!]

[Mr Vergee]

Love the idea! May the best character win!

My character’s name is Angelo. He’s a slim, tall young man, only seventeen years old. His shoulders are broad and his arms are muscled from doing the dirty work on his stepfather’s farm during his youth. His skin is bronzed, his hair is pitch black and tied together in a tail. He has a serious demeanor which is reflected by the stern look in his gray eyes. He has a thin moustache which runs on to join his fine beard.

Angelo is the bastard son of a travelling gypsy. His mother had an affair with the man while he was passing through the village. This resulted in her last son, Angelo. When he was born, it was immediately evident that farmer Simon was not his father. Angelo had the traits of his gypsy forefathers written all over him. Farmer Simon beat up Angelo’s mother so badly that she had to stay in bed for weeks and could never bear children again.

Angelo grew up enduring his stepfather’s anger and aggression. Any excuse was enough to give the poor boy a beating. His half brothers were only too happy to join their father in the fray. Still, Angelo took this treatment stoically and developed an inner strength to withstand the punishment he was given. Whatever didn’t kill him, made him stronger.

Angelo’s adventuring career began when his village was attacked by hobgoblins and most of the villagers killed. The survivors were saved by soldiers from a neighbouring country and taken across the border. There all able-bodied young men were forced to join the army. This fate didn’t displease Angelo, though, since it would give him the chance to prove his worth and be appreciated for it.

Angelo, male human Ftr4/Bbn1, 1m82 tall, hp 41, init +2 (Dex), Spd 40 ft.; AC 22 (+2 Dex, +6 Chain shirt +2, +2 buckler +1, +1 ring of Protection +1, +1 Amulet of Natural Armor +1); Atk +11 melee (d8+6/crit 19-20, Longsword +3) or +7 (d8/crit x3, Longbow); SQ Rage (1/day), Fast Movement; AL CG; SV Fort +9, Ref +4, Will +2; Str 17, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 13, Wis 10, Cha 11.
Skills: Climb +6, Jump +7, Listen +6, Ride +9, Spot +5, Swim -4. Feats: Dodge, Expertise, Improved Disarm, Improved Trip, Mobility, Spring Attack.
Possessions: Bag of Holding, Ring of Sustenance, Eyes of the Eagle, Glove of Storing, Cloak of Resistance +1, Chain Shirt +2, Buckler +1, Ring of Protection +1, Amulet of Natural Armor +1, Longsword +3, Longbow with 50 arrows.

Angelo’s longsword consists of two woven blades and catches fire when he wields it.

 

[Baastet]

Minolin "The Mouse"

Basic Information:
Name: Minolin
A.K.A: The Mouse, Min, The Meanest Thing In Pigtails This Side Of Hellgate Keep.
Human Rogue 2/ Sorcerer 1
Age: 13
Location:
Forgotten Realms

Description: Minolin is 4'6 in height and weighs about 75 pounds. She has bright brown eyes that dart this way and that catching everything within their gaze. Her black hair is worn either in a short ponytail or pigtails tied with whatever baubles and string she can find. She has an angelic face with freckles that lightly dust her button nose and on her right cheek has a seemingly permanent dirt smudge. The only thing that mars the image of innocence is the knowing smirk that comes from having seen to much of "humanity". The only thing matching on Minolin is the pair of throwing daggers she keeps hidden up the voluminous sleeves of a oversized tunic, both of which (tunic & daggers) she won off a Dwarf in a dicing game. She has patched and frayed trousers with a hole starting to wear in one knee. These are tucked into old scuffed and battered floppy boots. Usually perched on her shoulder parrot-like is her familiar, a fluffy orange kitten.

Personality: Despite the look of abject poverty she carefully cultivates, Minolin is actually doing rather well for herself. She is a first rate pick pocket and a daring young entrepreneur. Her latest business venture is making "Potions of the Lion". This is a concoction of high proof alcohol of various types mixed with alumn into a noxious smelling brew. She adds a couple of over ripe berries for color and a quick cast of Nystul's Magic Aura on the mix. She claims that the hairs of the lion, seen in the vial, (actually from a poor bewildered tomcat she caught in the alley) lend their vitality and potence to the men who imbibe it. She has the solution of offering a part of the profits to certain ladies of negotiable affections, who then offer it to their patrons. She is quick of wit and of feet, not hesitating to flee when the tide turns against her. She is more than capable in a fight; most opponents discount her presense entirely until one of those knives flashes out into a tender area. Despite her years she can handle herself with surprising decorum when it is called for. She is a pint-sized cynic but fiercely loyal to those who have earned her trust and respect.

Background: Minolin was born into the world of the Citadel of the Raven, last stronghold of the Zhentarim. Her mother died in childbirth, Her father was never known. She was adopted by a prostitute by the name of Serida. Her life was brutal and painful. Until one day an up and coming Zhent mage stumbled on a little girl who’s cunning belied her age. She was taken by the mage, Jhedrim to train and use as his personal informant. It was through Jhedrim she learned the ways of stealth and earned her nickname of The Mouse, for she was small and quiet and quick. As she grew up Jhedrim noticed Minolin had a talent for magics. He fostered and encouraged Minolin's experimentation with her innate magics. Jhedrim hoped to one day harness them one day making her an even more potent agent prehaps even his personal assasin. Minolin worked steadily for her master digging up dirt on all his rivals and feeding false information to their spies. Until one day Jhedrim got himself killed after she gave him bad information. She had been duped and knew that her days were numbered. She had no other choice but to flee. She stowed away on a ship, squeezing her way into a thin crevice to avoid detection by the crew. She emerged at night using all her skills at stealth to steal water and crumbs left over in the galley. It was also on the ship she found her familiar, a flame-colored kitten named Bungry. When the ship docked in Skullport it brought more than it's haul of pirated goods. It also brought the Mouse to Waterdeep.

Minolin is originally a character from 2nd edition that I got to make but never play, as our game quickly broke up due to Desert Storm. But always I loved her. I recently have ressurected and updated her for 3rd edition and am currently playing her in my husband's campaign. ^_^

edited for typos

 

[Verdigris]

Jacc Swinn, the Swindler Bard:


Ol' Jacc is the epitome of the raffish bawd: he sings poorly but makes up for it in volume. He can always be counted on for a good story (most of which prominantly feature himself). Jacc Swinn always tells the truth, but only if it makes a good story.

Jacc fancies himself comely, and is undoubtedly handsome in a rough-hewn sort of way. He sports a brass tooth and energetically courts the ladies. Jacc Swinn neither brushes twice a day, nor is he adverse to smelling of salami. Fortunately, he does not object to others sporting the same qualities.

He wears a multi-hued cloak patched together from various sources. Bells and baubles jangle from every button on his outfit. His shoes are often mismatched. He keeps a whistle tied to his neck that he suspects has magical properties -- if for no other reason than when he gets to blowing it, his friends dissappear.

Swinn fights masterfully with a most unlikely weapon: he wields a long, dented clarion (a sort of straight bugle blown by mideavil heralds and such). He is chaotic and self-absorbed, but fundamentally decent sort of fellow. He is like a wild uncle that never grew up.

His main sidekick is a giant pair of voluptuous magical lips with the unlikely name of..."Lips". Having been magically saddled to Swinn as the result of a curse (by a powerful sorceress who objected to a kiss he gave to her daughter...which Swinn subsequently denied), Lips floats behind Swinn and offers sarcastic commentary on Swinn's activities. Although Swinn is now powerful enough to have absented himself from this unlikely companion, some soft spot in him has prevented him from doing so.

 

[Buddha the DM]

Aust Liadon
Half-Elven Ranger
32 years old
Mid-back length Black Hair (kept pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of his eyes), Ice Blue Eyes
5 ft 2 in, 142 lbs

Aust was raised in the forest by his parents who were both rangers. At a young age his family was ambushed by a band of goblins that were lead by a particularly nasty orc. Quickly his parents shoved him into the forest's underbrush. In chaos of the ensuing battle Aust's parents we killed by the orc, and his band, while Aust watched helplessly from his hiding spot. After the battle the raiders searched the area for Aust but they had no luck in finding him. Once the orc, and the remaining goblins, had left Aust crawled from his hiding spot and over to his parents' bodies where he mourned over them for 3 days. At the end of his period of mourning Aust spent the next day digging 2 graves for his parents. Aust took his father's longbow, and his mother's longsword, before placing the bodies into the graves gently into the graves that he had dug. With the bodies in their graves, and the graves filled in and marked, Aust gathered what was left of his families' supplies and headed off into the deep forest. Ever since the attack on his family, Aust has wandered his home forest protecting travelers of all sorts from a distance so the same thing would not happen to them.
----

I have included what I think is the valid parts of Aust's character sheet. If you want more info than what I have given from his character sheet you can go here. Aust's prefered mode of attack is with his composite longbow. He keeps his longsword strapped to his back underneath his backpack and bedroll when not in use.

----
<b>Aust Liadon:</b> Male Half-Elf Ranger 2; Medium-sized Humanoid (Elf); HD 2d8; hp 16; Init +2; Spd 30 ft; AC 15, touch 12, flat-footed 13 (+2 Dex, +3 Armor); Base Atk +2; Grp +3; Atk +3 melee (1d8+1/19-20/x2, Longsword) or +5 ranged (1d8/x3, Masterwork Composite Longbow); Full Atk +3 melee (1d8+1/19-20/x2, Longsword) or +5 ranged (1d8/x3, Masterwork Composite Longbow); SQ Favored Enemy (Magical Beast +2), Half-Elf Traits, Low-light Vision, Wild Empathy +2; AL NG; SV Fort +3, Ref +5, Will +1; Str 13, Dex 15, Con 11, Int 11, Wis 13, Cha 11.

<i>Skills & Feats:</i> Diplomacy +2, Gather Information +2, Hide +7, Knowledge (Nature) +7, Listen +7, Move Silently +7, Search +1, Spot +7, Survival +6; Point Blank Shot, Rapid Shot, Track.

<i>Combat Style (Ex):</i> Aust has selected archery. He gains the Rapid Shot feat without the normal prerequisites.

<i>Possessions</i>: Masterwork studded leather (AC +3, MDB +5, ACP 0, ASF 15%, 20 lbs), masterwork composite longbow, quiver (2 each with 20 arrows), longsword, backpack, bedroll, waterskin, sack, explorer's outfit, flint & steel, trail rations (3 days), signet ring, <i>potion of cure light wounds</i> (5), 37 gp, and 3 sp.

 

[Jon Potter]

Ixin is my wife's PC and I think she's a rather clever creation. She pulls in ideas and mechanics from many disparate sources (Green Ronin Publishing, Malhavoc Press, Dragon Magazine, Malladin's Gate Press, Badaxe Games, and Mongoose Publishing, to name the biggest influences) to create an exotic but never the less cohesive character concept.

Ixin is a draconic drakeling from a renaissance-era world who came to my dragonless, medieval campaign world in a rather spectacular fashion.

A roiling knot of luminescent cloud began to swirl in the air above the barnyard. Lightning crackled and the wind whipped and swirled. Fat Gurnie had time only to gasp and stare dumbly before the center of the cloud dilated, revealing a glittering black hole in the sky. Over the howl of the wind could be heard the increasing sound of a woman screaming. The screaming grew louder and louder and an instant later, a woman fell out of the hole. She belly-flopped in the barnyard with a bone-jarring thud and her screaming stopped abruptly.

The black hole in the sky began to close, but not before it also vomited out a gleaming sword that tumbled end over end through the air. Gurnie found himself unable to move, his eyes transfixed by the sword tumbling toward him blade over pommel. For an instant he was sure that he was going to be skewered by the falling weapon, but it embedded itself in the ground at his feet. Gurnie watched the blade's basket hilt waggle back and forth in the air and suddenly realized that he hadn't been breathing. He sucked in a lungful of air and took a frightened step backward.

The woman groaned and started to get to her feet. As she rose, Fat Gurnie's first thought was that she was beautiful. The next was that she was huge, standing fully half-a-head taller than he did. And finally, as he got a more complete look at her, he thought that he might be in serious trouble. She was dressed in fine - if a bit odd - clothing: leather boots and pantaloons, a frilly shirt beneath a tight-fitting leather vest and jerkin. Over it all, she wore a voluminous cloak trimmed in cloth-of-gold. Her head was bare and surmounted by fiery red hair, pulled back in a thick braid that hung to the middle of her broad back. Her complexion was ruddy and as she regarded him with honey-yellow eyes, he thought that he saw fine, iridescent scales on her cheeks and along the line of her strong jaw. Her sparklingly white teeth might have been a little pointed.

"Nunca confíe em um pixie," she grumbled as she dusted herself off and looked in the direction of the closed gate. "Näo podem ajudar-lhe mas fazer batota."

Born 125 years ago on the Io's Blood Islands far out in the great Western Ocean, Ixin has, much to her disgust, spent the last several decades as a pampered prisoner in the Imperial City of Highgate in the County of Bluffside on the western coast of Castillia.

"My name is Ixin, daughter of Ventisjir the Red, granddaughter of Lady Dominor Corastrixarosvith of Clan Vermillion," she said as she sheathed Arivivexoth at her hip, "Ur-Corastrixarosvith serves as Grand Councillor for Clan Vermilion to the Council of Wyrms. Her daughter, my mother, Ventisjir the Red, is a Clan Champion."

She spoke the litany without much interest or conviction. She'd repeated her lineage enough times in the last decades that it had ceased to impress her much anymore. But it was impressive, she knew, for Skrazargul the Green and his sons Drakes Thuulsias, Irthos, and Ulric made her repeat it often, their eyes flickering with lust and greed at each syllable. It was a gem in the horde for any Green Dragon, even one of Ur-Skrazargul's age and wealth, to have in his holding one of the lineage of Cr'Corastrixarosvith. Even though she only shared 1/4 of the Lady Dominor's fiery blood, Ixin knew that she was an important trophy for Skrazargul the Green. Not only was he naught but a Green, but neither did he claim clanblood on the Council; he had left the Dragon Isles to live in the human lands of Mid'gaard. But it was this very fact that made him attractive to Clan Vermilion who retained little of their former influence among the lesser races. So she, Ul-Ixin, was the linchpin of an elaborate political marriage of two Dragon Houses.

Given her lineage, it is not surprising that Ixin is a sorcerer with a proclivity for fire magic, who hopes to one day become a full-fledged dracomancer. In the meantime, she is unafraid to use her natural claws or her morningstar once her not-inconsiderable spells are exhausted. The intelligent cutlass, Arivivexoth, she never uses in combat, although its continuous Tongues ability allows her to communicate so long as the weapon is in her possession.

Once the townsfolk were convinced that she wasn't some type of demon, they warmed to her rather quickly. They pawed her mercilessly of course, clutching at her magical cloak, running their hands over the fine scales on her cheeks, marveling at the small horns that were all but hidden in her hairline. It was much the same treatment she experienced from Drake Irthos and more than a few of the more aggressive Hands in the Dragon's Claw. Of course, the townsfolk lacked the lecherous smirks and lascivious glances that were so common to all of Skrazargul's underlings.

Age: 125 (young by drakeling standards)
Sex: female
Height: 6ft. 2 in.
Weight: 215 lbs.
Hair: Red
Eyes: Gold
Skin: Coppery Red
Handedness: Right

 

[Marius Delphus]

Akbar the Almost-Insane

High-level Elf Wild Mage and pseudodragon familiar.

A little insanity is good for the soul.

As if being a 6’2", bald elf wasn’t enough to make him a little kooky, Akbar fell in love with the manipulation of magical chaos. With a passion for magic and magical items, Akbar has made a career out of terrifying his friends with unpredictable spells, and a complete disbelief that anything bad could come out of his magic. Reckless dweomer is not just a spell…it’s a way of life.

Even when spells don’t turn out even remotely as anticipated, Akbar has made the mantra of, "Is that not wonderful? Look at what I have done with my magic!!" a cornerstone in his life.

Adorned with magical rings, necklaces, bracers, boots, and cloak, and armed with a staff of power and staff of the magi (twisted into one big staff with a wish), Akbar wanders the world looking for magic and fun.

Though the bright mischievous twinkle in his eye is often mistaken for utter madness, in reality Akbar just sees the world from a little different perspective that allows him to believe that it’s all good. There is no doubt in his mind that the chaotic forces of magic will one day save the races from the perils they face.

With his pseudodragon familiar "Mayhem" on his shoulder, Akbar constantly is looking to help his friends by empowering them with the magic that he truly believes they need to make their lives complete. Unfortunately, not all of his friends understand this philosophy; in fact, they sometimes seem to think he is out to kill them. Luckily he sleeps lightly. But someday they’ll all understand just how wonderful Akbar's magic really is.

 

[ForceUser]

Reverend Jon Falco is a human cleric of Pelor, god of the sun. Born and raised in Suundi, he is slightly taller than average with a slim muscular build and short, sandy blond hair. His blue eyes are set in a tanned, friendly face framed by laugh lines and centered on an aquiline nose. He wears masterwork full plate armor of golden steel that shimmers dazzlingly in bright sunlight and is adorned with images of the Shining One. His holy symbol is an ancient Flan amulet enhanced with a persistent protection from evil effect. He carries a heavy darkwood shield painted white with a golden image of Pelor and wields a powerful mace called the Rod of the Shining One, bequeathed to him by an angel of his god. The rod is four feet long and ornate, and the head is a depiction of Pelor's wrathful visage. It possesses all the powers of a sun blade as well as the blessed and wondrous ability to critically hit undead. Reverend Falco is a theologian and a peaceful man at heart, but when called to defend the faithful he is a tireless and implacable foe of darkness.

 

[DonAdam]

Worth a shot

Sarin is an aasimar monk. He serves Ilmater (Forgotten Realms god of endurance, suffering, and healing), and as such dresses in tattered gray clothes trimmed with dark red. His bushy, black hair reaches down to his shoulders, with a single longer braid hanging from the left side of his head that is tied off with a simple red ribbon. He wears sandles with straps going partway up his ankles to secure the bottom of his pants, providing maximum mobility. His hands are wrapped in strips of dirty red cloth. The only adornment on his body is a black sash around his waste covered in red runes.

Scars litter his skin, as he spent a year imprisoned by a traitor he thought was his friend in which he was tortured and malnourished. His pale flesh is drawn tightly over his small, lithe frame. He barely clears 5'2", and most of the time looks like a simple beggar. His eyes are usually a light yellow, but glow bright when he is focused on battle or has become angry. His demeanor switches back and forth between two extremes: a compassionate gentleness for most everyone he meets, which contrasts strongly with the intense, disciplined wrath he directs at those he considers irredeemably evil.

 

[blueshade]

Dell - Monk of the Order of Shining Fists (female dwarf; worshipper of Pelor)

Description: I stand at the 4 foot with golden eyes like sunlight and red hair like the fire. My smile isn't perfect, for a lost my top front inscisor from my Orc enslaver and a tattoo on my right fist that I recieved shortly after I was freed. I only wear loose cotton clothes. They are kinda raggy now for it has been about 2 years since I have bought new ones.

Personality: I prefer to wear my brown sandals with gold tassels on my feet, but I will go barefoot if needed. My white cotton clothes are raggy, but all well whatever works. They serve their purpose. Nothing is exposed. My pants are all but held upon my waist by a golden colored sash. It is fairly abundant in fabric so I can hide things such as a vial or two of potions and some monies. My bedroll is home to everything else I carry. The silk rope that once belonged to my father is tied around my bedroll nice and tight so I can just sling it over my shoulder, for a snap of one's fingers is the same as the snap of one's neck. I travel lightly, so that I have everything all ready at a moment's notice. The trick is to know thy enemy and be quicker than they are. My belief is that all peoples are created equally but some choose the wrong paths to follow and sometimes they make others suffer from their gains. Slavery shall not be tolerated in my opinion, for it is the one flaw that I have found in some laws. It just should not exist to be. I use my strength to combine with my wits in a lethal combination so that I can enforce justice in this sometimes cruel world. Every sacrifice that I make personally is only for the better good.

Favorite Saying: "Slavery they can have anywhere. It is a weed that grows in every soil."

Background: I am the daughter of a merchant's slave ... making me a merchant serf from Stoneheim, the capital of Pomarj. There I worked trying to pay off my deceased parents' debts until I was brought out of my endentured life by a monk who won me in a contest of wits and fists. Upon my freedom I was able to learn from my new friend, Mego Yinn, who became known to me as my master, for that is what a student aptly calls his teacher. The tattoo that I bear has on my right fist has significant meaning to me. It consists of 4 axe blades rotating clockwise. The left and right axes, which are orange, are symbolic of the sun rising and setting showing the beginning and end of a day. The top axe, which is red, signifies noon when the sun is at it highest in the sky and also the hottest part of the day. Whereas, the bottom axe, which is blue, represents the sun down resting wisely preparing for a new day thus showing night. I wear this mark proud as my master always said, "explorers have to be ready to die lost." I am not sure I truly understand what he meant by that but I will continue traveling and seeking out justice for those like my family and seek out the truth in this life. Living the part of a student was my symbiotic life up until the wrongful death of my master/saviour, whom I lost in Sunndi about a year ago. Now as I wear the rings of my master, I seek out knowledge and self mastery through adventuring with an elven magics-user by the name of Destin Gimac and a roguish fighter by the name of Drago. I travel with my companions only to keep them out of trouble, for Destin is only a magic wielder, not one of fists, and Drago thinks he knows anything and everything. All peoples have the right to be protected just the same as the next. I am trying to live as how I had been for 10 years with my master, but focusing on law and order is not always as easily dealt. For example, when I see a chained being something within me just snaps and I lose all control of everything that I have been taught. Nothing but the task at hand matter to me then.
I am now on a quest that I have received in a vision from the all might Pelor himself to travel to the city of Greyhawk. In my vision I was told "when darkness falls" which I hope to find what this means. I have now journeyed to Greyhawk with my companions.

 

[mkletch]

Figured I'd toss in my latest character for a shot. Thanks to Kai Lord for the opportunity, and best of luck to all.

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Veqh is new to the Forgotten Realms, and an alien land it is. Created by Silpion, a Solar in the service of Lathander the Morninglord, Veqh is an Astral Deva not yet achieved of his full glory (Astral Deva lvl 8). Created with a single epic purpose, to destroy an evil artifact capable of creating nearly limitless numbers of undead, he searches the realms with dedicated purpose. When the artifact is found, he will succeed in destroying it by whatever means are necessary. Until then, Veqh seeks undead and their cruel creators, dealing justice to the masters and final death to the unliving.

Veqh stands just over 7 feet tall, with bronze-brown skin and brown hair with metallic gold highlights. His eyes glow with a faint but holy white light. His wingspan is nearly 15 feet, and he has practiced and perfected the art of flight with his glorious white, feathered wings. Unlike many of his celestial bretheren, Veqh has adapted to many of the customs of the realms with regard to clothing styles. He wears a brocade vest of white, emblazoned with gold and silver dragons. A heavy torc of white gold sits close about his neck. Pants and a long sleeved shirt of maroon silk, plain leather gloves and boots finish his 'costume' as he sees it.

But this pampered dress is often catches evil creatures off-guard, for Veqh is a powerful warrior for all righteous causes. Beneath his clothing, he wears a suit of elven chainmail, specially adapted to his inhuman physiology. In the customary manner of his kind he wields maces, one heavy and one light. With muscles rippling, two mighty arms wield two mighty weapons, all the better to subdue or destroy wrongdoers with alacrity. He possesses a large bow, but more often than not rushes into close contact, for justice is best meted out at arm's length.

Bashing foes in close combat, healing allies, and being a rock upon which the tides of the enemy break to no effect - these are the deeds for which Veqh of Lathander is noted by his companions. With his brilliant and holy aura surrounding him, Veqh is a beacon of justice and a warning to the unjust.

Veqh: Male Astral Deva 8; Medium-sized Outsider (Good); HD 6d8+18; hp 58; Init +3; Speed 50ft, fly 75ft (perfect); AC 27, touch 14 (+3 Dex, +7 natural, +6 armor, +1 deflection; never flat-footed); Base Atk +6; Grapple +9; Atk +11 melee (1d8+5/x2, Heavy Mace +2) or +9 ranged (1d8+2/x3, Mighty (+2) Composite Longbow); Full Atk +9/+4 melee (1d8+5/x2, +2 Heavy Mace) and +2 melee (1d6+2, +1 Ghost Touch Light Mace), or +9/+4 ranged (1d8+2/x3, Mighty (+2) Composite Longbow); SA Spell-like abilities; SQ Damage reduction 5/+1, darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, immunity to electricity, protective aura, fire resistance 5, spell resistance 18, tongues, uncanny dodge; AL LG; SV Fort +9 (+13 vs. poison), Ref +9, Will +9; Str 16, Dex 16, Con 16, Int 14, Wis 16, Cha 20.

Protective Aura (Su): As a free devas can surround themselves with a nimbus of light having a radius of 20 feet. This acts as a double-strength magic circle against evil and as a minor globe of invulnerability, both as cast by a sorcerer whose level equal to the deva’s Hit Dice. The aura can be dispelled, but the celestial can create it again as a free action on its next turn.

Tongues (Su): Astral devas can speak with any creature that has a language, as though using a tongues spell cast by a 14th-level sorcerer. This ability is always active.

Spell-Like Abilities: 3/day - aid, cure light wounds, continual flame, detect evil, dispel magic, invisibility sphere, remove curse, remove disease, remove fear, see invisibility. These abilities are as the spells cast by a sorcerer of level equal to the deva's hit dice (save DC 15 + spell level).

Uncanny Dodge (Ex): Astral devas are never caught flat-footed and cannot be flanked.

Skills & Feats: Concentration +13, Diplomacy +9, Intimidate +9, Knowledge (Arcana) +10, Knowledge (Religion) +10, Knowledge (Planes) +10, Listen +16, Move Silently +3, Sense Motive +12, Spot +16; Common, Celestial, Chondathan, Draconic, Illuskan, Infernal, Undercommon; Armor Proficiency (Light), Two-Weapon Fighting, Improved Flight.

Possessions: +1 mithril chainmail (AC +6, MDB +6, ACP -1), +2 heavy mace, +1 ghost touch light mace, mighty (+2) composite longbow, quiver with 20 arrows, torc of the goddess +1 (MoF), masterwork potion belt, potion of cure light wounds, belt pouch, 7-500gp gems, 4-200gp gems, 4-100gp gems, 2-50gp gems, 5cp, 24sp, 14gp.

Editied to include the ever-popular stat block.

-Fletch!