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IG's Legend of The Ripper [RG]
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<blockquote data-quote="Autumn" data-source="post: 3636747" data-attributes="member: 50015"><p>[sblock=Fen]<strong>Fenadin 'Fen' Cassell</strong></p><p>Human Male</p><p>Neutral</p><p>Scout 1</p><p></p><p>12 Strength (+1) (4 pts.)</p><p>16 Dexterity (+3) (10 pts.)</p><p>12 Constitution (+1) (4 pts.)</p><p>14 Intelligence (+2) (6 pts.)</p><p>12 Wisdom (+1) (4 pts.)</p><p>8 Charisma (-1) (0 pts.)</p><p></p><p>BAB: +0</p><p>Grapple: +1</p><p>HP: 9</p><p>Initiative: +3</p><p>Speed: 30 ft.</p><p>ACP: -0</p><p>AC: 15 (+3 Dex, +2 Armor), flat-footed 12, touch 13</p><p></p><p>Attack:</p><p>Handaxe +1 Melee, Damage 1d6+1, Crit 20/x3</p><p></p><p>or Shortbow +3 Ranged, Damage 1d6, Crit 20/x3, Range 60 ft.</p><p></p><p>or Light Crossbow +3 Ranged, Damage 1d8, Crit 19-20/x2, Range 80 ft.</p><p></p><p>Notes: </p><p>+1 Attack and Damage with Ranged Attacks within 30'</p><p>No penalty for firing into melee</p><p>+1d6 Damage within 30' while Skirmishing</p><p></p><p>Fort Saves: +1 (+0 Base, +1 Con)</p><p>Reflex Saves: +5 (+2 Base, +3 Dex)</p><p>Will Saves: +1 (+0 Base, +1 Wis)</p><p></p><p>Feats:</p><p>Point Blank Shot (Human Bonus)</p><p>Precise Shot</p><p></p><p>Abilities:</p><p>Skirmish (+1d6)</p><p>Trapfinding</p><p></p><p>Skills: (44; max ranks 4/2) </p><p>+5 Balance (2 ranks +3 Dex)</p><p>+5 Climb (2 ranks +3 Dex)</p><p>+7 Hide (4 ranks +3 Dex)</p><p>+3 Jump (2 ranks +1 Str)</p><p>+4 Knowledge (Local) (2 cc ranks +2 Int)</p><p>+5 Listen (4 ranks +1 Wis)</p><p>+7 Move Silently (4 ranks +3 Dex)</p><p>+6 Search (4 ranks +2 Int)</p><p>+5 Sense Motive (4 ranks +1 Wis)</p><p>+5 Spot (4 ranks +1 Wis)</p><p>+5 Survival (4 ranks +1 Wis)</p><p>+3 Swim (2 ranks +1 Str)</p><p>+5 Tumble (2 ranks +3 Dex)</p><p>+7 Use Rope (2 ranks +3 Dex +2 Circumstance)</p><p></p><p>Notes:</p><p></p><p>Languages: </p><p>Common</p><p>Elven</p><p>Orc</p><p></p><p>Equipment: </p><p>Shortbow (2 lbs, 30 gp)</p><p>20x Arrows (3 lbs, 1 gp)</p><p>Light Crossbow (4 lbs, 35 gp)</p><p>20x Bolt (2 lbs, 2 gp)</p><p>Handaxe (3 lbs, 6 gp)</p><p>Leather Armor (15 lbs, 10 gp)</p><p>Backpack (2 lbs, 2 gp)</p><p>-50' Silk Rope (5 lbs, 10 gp)</p><p>-Bullseye Lantern (3 lbs, 12 gp)</p><p>-2 pints Oil (2 lbs, 2 sp)</p><p>-10x Tindertwig (0 lbs, 10 gp)</p><p>2x Smokestick (1 lb, 20 gp)</p><p>Potion of Cure Light Wounds (0 lbs, 50 gp)</p><p>11gp, 8 sp</p><p></p><p>Total Weight: 42 lbs (Light Load)</p><p></p><p>Age: 31</p><p>Height: 6'2"</p><p>Weight: 185 lbs</p><p>Eyes: Blue-grey</p><p>Hair: Brown</p><p>Skin: Deeply Tanned</p><p></p><p>[sblock=Appearance]Fen is a big, lanky guy, giving off a general impression that's all old leather and hard liquor. He doesn't really look like someone you'd want to tangle with, even if his build is wiry rather than buff and even if the weary expression in his eyes and his slumped posture make him look old before his time. Years of hard living have taken their toll, but it seems there's some fight in him yet. He wears a battered old broad-brimmed hat and an equally battered travelling cloak, rarely bothering to remove either of them except to sleep.[/sblock]</p><p></p><p>[sblock=History]Fen's father was a military man, and he always expected his son to follow in his footsteps. That was fine with Fen. He was raised on war stories, drinking them up while sat wide-eyed on his father's knee. The hitch came when Fen was twelve. Maybe he wouldn't have minded so much if his father had died a good death in battle. That, he could have understood. But it just seemed so wrong that his father, the man he'd always idolised, who had always seemed so strong and brave, could meet his inglorious end at the wrong end of a broken bottle in a bar room brawl. </p><p></p><p> The next few years were difficult, but eventually Fen did join the army. His mother managed to convince him, far enough, that it was what his father would have wanted, and that the dead man's wishes were still worth honoring. The boy went through basic training with sullen determination and even saw a little action. His commanding officer noted that he seemed to have some natural aptitude and passed his observations along. The result was that Fen was offered a chance to get out of the ranks and train as one of the army's elite scouts and skirmishers. Caring little one way or the other, he accepted, retrained, and served another year.</p><p></p><p> By this time he was eighteen, and he was becoming the typical angry young man. He spoke little to his comrades, or to anybody else for that matter. On leave, while the rest of them chased girls around and danced, he sat in a corner drinking hard. </p><p></p><p> It was the alcohol that finally did for him. He was caught drunk on duty one day when he was twenty, and reacted to his commanding officer's reprimands by punching him in the jaw. </p><p></p><p> He was duly court-marshalled and discharged. He went back to his hometown beaten, confused and angry. He crawled inside a bottle, and stayed there more or less for nearly a decade, scraping together enough money to live by mooching off his mother and through occasional stints as a bouncer or day laborer. </p><p></p><p> When he was thirty, his mother finally died. It had been a long time since they'd spoken, but the shock of it hit Fen hard. He was sober at the funeral, and though it didn't last he hasn't quite slipped back into his earlier rut. He's begun making a living as a freelance investigator - a calling that hasn't on the whole endeared him to the watch, but that has at least given him something to occupy his mind and keep him sober part of the time.[/sblock][/sblock]</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Autumn, post: 3636747, member: 50015"] [sblock=Fen][b]Fenadin 'Fen' Cassell[/b] Human Male Neutral Scout 1 12 Strength (+1) (4 pts.) 16 Dexterity (+3) (10 pts.) 12 Constitution (+1) (4 pts.) 14 Intelligence (+2) (6 pts.) 12 Wisdom (+1) (4 pts.) 8 Charisma (-1) (0 pts.) BAB: +0 Grapple: +1 HP: 9 Initiative: +3 Speed: 30 ft. ACP: -0 AC: 15 (+3 Dex, +2 Armor), flat-footed 12, touch 13 Attack: Handaxe +1 Melee, Damage 1d6+1, Crit 20/x3 or Shortbow +3 Ranged, Damage 1d6, Crit 20/x3, Range 60 ft. or Light Crossbow +3 Ranged, Damage 1d8, Crit 19-20/x2, Range 80 ft. Notes: +1 Attack and Damage with Ranged Attacks within 30' No penalty for firing into melee +1d6 Damage within 30' while Skirmishing Fort Saves: +1 (+0 Base, +1 Con) Reflex Saves: +5 (+2 Base, +3 Dex) Will Saves: +1 (+0 Base, +1 Wis) Feats: Point Blank Shot (Human Bonus) Precise Shot Abilities: Skirmish (+1d6) Trapfinding Skills: (44; max ranks 4/2) +5 Balance (2 ranks +3 Dex) +5 Climb (2 ranks +3 Dex) +7 Hide (4 ranks +3 Dex) +3 Jump (2 ranks +1 Str) +4 Knowledge (Local) (2 cc ranks +2 Int) +5 Listen (4 ranks +1 Wis) +7 Move Silently (4 ranks +3 Dex) +6 Search (4 ranks +2 Int) +5 Sense Motive (4 ranks +1 Wis) +5 Spot (4 ranks +1 Wis) +5 Survival (4 ranks +1 Wis) +3 Swim (2 ranks +1 Str) +5 Tumble (2 ranks +3 Dex) +7 Use Rope (2 ranks +3 Dex +2 Circumstance) Notes: Languages: Common Elven Orc Equipment: Shortbow (2 lbs, 30 gp) 20x Arrows (3 lbs, 1 gp) Light Crossbow (4 lbs, 35 gp) 20x Bolt (2 lbs, 2 gp) Handaxe (3 lbs, 6 gp) Leather Armor (15 lbs, 10 gp) Backpack (2 lbs, 2 gp) -50' Silk Rope (5 lbs, 10 gp) -Bullseye Lantern (3 lbs, 12 gp) -2 pints Oil (2 lbs, 2 sp) -10x Tindertwig (0 lbs, 10 gp) 2x Smokestick (1 lb, 20 gp) Potion of Cure Light Wounds (0 lbs, 50 gp) 11gp, 8 sp Total Weight: 42 lbs (Light Load) Age: 31 Height: 6'2" Weight: 185 lbs Eyes: Blue-grey Hair: Brown Skin: Deeply Tanned [sblock=Appearance]Fen is a big, lanky guy, giving off a general impression that's all old leather and hard liquor. He doesn't really look like someone you'd want to tangle with, even if his build is wiry rather than buff and even if the weary expression in his eyes and his slumped posture make him look old before his time. Years of hard living have taken their toll, but it seems there's some fight in him yet. He wears a battered old broad-brimmed hat and an equally battered travelling cloak, rarely bothering to remove either of them except to sleep.[/sblock] [sblock=History]Fen's father was a military man, and he always expected his son to follow in his footsteps. That was fine with Fen. He was raised on war stories, drinking them up while sat wide-eyed on his father's knee. The hitch came when Fen was twelve. Maybe he wouldn't have minded so much if his father had died a good death in battle. That, he could have understood. But it just seemed so wrong that his father, the man he'd always idolised, who had always seemed so strong and brave, could meet his inglorious end at the wrong end of a broken bottle in a bar room brawl. The next few years were difficult, but eventually Fen did join the army. His mother managed to convince him, far enough, that it was what his father would have wanted, and that the dead man's wishes were still worth honoring. The boy went through basic training with sullen determination and even saw a little action. His commanding officer noted that he seemed to have some natural aptitude and passed his observations along. The result was that Fen was offered a chance to get out of the ranks and train as one of the army's elite scouts and skirmishers. Caring little one way or the other, he accepted, retrained, and served another year. By this time he was eighteen, and he was becoming the typical angry young man. He spoke little to his comrades, or to anybody else for that matter. On leave, while the rest of them chased girls around and danced, he sat in a corner drinking hard. It was the alcohol that finally did for him. He was caught drunk on duty one day when he was twenty, and reacted to his commanding officer's reprimands by punching him in the jaw. He was duly court-marshalled and discharged. He went back to his hometown beaten, confused and angry. He crawled inside a bottle, and stayed there more or less for nearly a decade, scraping together enough money to live by mooching off his mother and through occasional stints as a bouncer or day laborer. When he was thirty, his mother finally died. It had been a long time since they'd spoken, but the shock of it hit Fen hard. He was sober at the funeral, and though it didn't last he hasn't quite slipped back into his earlier rut. He's begun making a living as a freelance investigator - a calling that hasn't on the whole endeared him to the watch, but that has at least given him something to occupy his mind and keep him sober part of the time.[/sblock][/sblock] [/QUOTE]
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