Ayremac, Half-Human/Half-Celestial - Holy Warrior
Ayremac, Half-Human/Half-Celestial Male Expert 1/Holy Warrior 3
Str 16, Dex 16, Con 16, Int 16, Wis 18, Cha 20
Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +7
Atk +8 melee (1d8+5/19-20 Longsword +2), +6 ranged (currently none)
AC 23 (+9 full plate +1, +2 heavy shield, +3 Dex, +1 natural), hp 36
SA darkvision, daylight 1/day, bless 1/day, protection from evil 3/day, aid 1/day, detect evil 1/day, smite evil 1/day, holy smite 1/day, remove disease 1/day, cure serious wounds 1/day, neutralize poison 1/day, save soul, eyes of justice, turn undead 7/day, shield of righteousness, necromanitc ward, righteous fury 1/day, disease immunity, acid resistance 10, cold resistance 10, electricity resistance 10, wings (fly 60)
Feats/Skills: Sacred Healing, Mounted Combat, Bluff +10, Diplomacy +11, Gather Information +8, Handle Animal +8, Heal +12, Intimidate +13, Knowledge (religion) +8, Knowledge (nobility) +6, Profession (merchant) +7, Ride +10, Sense Motive +1
Equipment: +1 spiked plate armor, +1 morningstar, +2 longsword, necklace of adaptation, wand of cure light wounds (20 charges) hide from undead potion x4, mage armor potion, spider climb potion, remove disease potion
Arland Penibel was just a politician, well, a rising star really, but nothing too extraordinary the day his life changed forever. He had always been an honest, law abiding citizen. He got along marvelously with everyone. He was well schooled, but not overly bright, he was athletic but not unbeatable, and he could hold a decent conversation. People just liked him.
His parents, who were not royalty but had made a name for themselves as successful coastal merchants, had first encouraged him to pursue regional administrative duties (politics). He petitioned the local magistrates and was appointed to a low level position. He was very good. His first year he had diminished crime, lowered the overall tax burden of his citizens, increased crop and animal husbandry yields, and made a friend of the people.
Of course, any one who had been in politics for more then a year would understand that what is good for the people is not always good for the ruling party.
Unbeknownst to Arland dark forces were already at work, plotting against him. He had taken a young bride and they were pregnant with their first child. One evening, after a long day at the administration building, he stopped to pay homage to the general pantheon of gods and a man stepped up behind him and pressed a blade against his Adam's Apple.
"You are going to allow the requisition of ALL the Apothecaries healing herb's for the use of the kings army… or you're going to find blood pouring from your family one night"
Arland, not understanding what had happened ran home and spent the night with his wife. He silently wept that evening while she slept in his arms. He was afraid.
The next day a messenger delivered an order from another office asking that a particular herb be harvested in great quantities through out his control and turned over to the higher authorities. The order stated that although all of the herb was being requisitioned, it was with in the local advisors realm to put some aside for the use of his people.
Arland, after interviewing the local head apothecary found that there was quite a store of the local herb. He asked that the apothecary put aside, hidden, for a later day a good amount of the herb. He then signed the order to have all the local farmers and apothecaries turn over all of the remaining herb from their fields and personal stores.
Several months later a sickness washed over the town and sure enough, this herb was a key ingredient for the healing potion. Arland, thinking that he had passed what ever test his assailant had put on him had the apothecary quietly prepare the healing potion from his private stores and he began to spread the potion to those afflicted. About a week after the sickness began, a traveling sales company came to town. They had the potion required to heal the sick (amongst many others) but they had this potion in great quantities.
It did not sell as well as they had thought. Arland could almost see the surprise on their faces as people passed them by, saying they had fought of the disease or found other cures. One of the men actually eyed Arland evilly and Arland knew that this was the plot. He went back to his office and drafted a letter to his superior. He informed him that he felt he may have uncovered a plot against the kings people and that he would relay more information to one of his trusted messengers instead of passing the information through the normal channels. He then raced home.
But it was too late.
He found his beloved bride dead and his young son gone. Arland was overcome and spent several days in the care of the priests and clerics of his local temple. The people swept the region, looking for any sign of his son, but he was gone. Arland was crushed and gave up his seat, he would not even answer the regional superiors questions about what his message had meant. It was Umba that brought him peace after weeks of prayer. As a young man, age of 19, Arland was about to make a transformation. He had spent his youth as any able man did, learning to fight and ride, but he was lucky in that he had been taught the basics of history, reading, writing and politics. Now his real training began...as a righteous holy warrior of Umba. He spent two years training. He prayed hard, seeking guidance to understand the passage of his wife and small child into the after life and with righteous zeal he believed. He found peace in the understanding that they have transcended to a better place and that their death, although painful and hollowing to him, was not the worst thing that could happen to them.
His skills at rebuking the dead and his power of belief made him an able warrior. He was by no means the best in his temple, but he held his own. Recently, he had helped his temple turn away some sickened zombies, created from his own towns people and the high cleric of his temple had prayed with Arland and called a beast of burden….a warhorse, to aid him.
Guilehem, the Cleric of his temple, charged Arland to seek out the cause of the plight that had afflicted his town and temple. Not knowing the seriousness of the quest, he did not choose his best Holy Warrior, but an able and sound choice all the same.
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Huzair, Fire Elemarn - Rogue/Wizard
Huzair Blacksmoke, Fire Elemarn Male Rogue 1/Wizard 6
Str 11, Dex 17, Con 15, Int 18, Wis 6, Cha 12
Fort +4, Ref +7, Will +3
Atk +4 melee (1d6+1 [fire] masterwork fever iron longspear), +7 ranged (1d6+1 [fire] masterwork fever iron longspear)
AC 19 (+4 mithril warcaster's armor, +3 dex, +2 ring of protection +2), hp 38
SA lowlight vision, heat metal 1/day, fire resistance 5, firesight
Feats/Skills: Healing Flames, Scribe Scroll (bonus), Spell Mastery, Appraise +8, Balance +7, Bluff +10, Concentration +10, Craft (alchemy) +10, Craft (painting) +8, Disable Device +7, Forgery +8, Knowledge (arcana) +12, Move Silently +7, Open Locks +4, Sleight of Hand +7, Read Lips +5, Search +8, Spellcraft +14, Tumble +7, Use Rope +7
Spells (4/3/3/2):
Equipment: Ring of Protection +2, Ring of Blinking, Ring of Invisibility (faulty), Amulet of Natural Armor +1, Earrings of Lies, Wand of Scorch (11 charges), Heward's Handy Haversack, Slippers of Spider Climbing, Potion of Cure Light Wounds (x2), Scroll of Cause Fear, Scroll of Disguise Self, Scroll of Enlarge Person, Scroll of Expeditious Retreat (x2), Scroll of Blur, Scroll of Levitate, Scroll of Mirror Image, Scroll of Scorching Ray
Huzair was bought/adopted as a servant/child to a high level member of the thief’s guild. It was assumed that he was from the Ethnegarian Karnate where people have dark skin. This man, Taarish, used Huzair and a few other children to pick pockets, shoplift and do errands in the city of Farmin, known for its gambling dens and brothels.
One day Huzair and 2 other boys decided to break into a home just outside the city. They had found the work easy before if no one was home, but this was different. When they broke in they encountered all sorts of neat magical stuff… including a golem. The wizard, named Garan-Zak, appeared out of no where shortly after the golem animated. He literally Held the children for questioning. The other kids told immediately who they were out of fear when questioned by the old wizard, while Huzair remained tightlipped when they were interrogated. This fascinated Garan-Zak and he recognized Huzair’s true nature. When told that his comrades squealed, Huzair became angry and told the wizard they were all in for a severe beating for failure. The Garan-Zak eyed up Huzair and gave him a choice to go back to his master and never set foot in this house again, or come to live with him and learn the art and science of wizardry. He implied he has seen few as intelligent as Huzair and that he would be a natural.
The wizard told Huzair that if Taarish gave him trouble to point this stick at him and say “Pyros”. He came back and was told “no wizard will take my best young thief” and he began to beat Huzair for his brashness. Huzair became angry and used the wand as the wizard said and his master was incinerated instantly. No one seemed to mind that the high member had been disposed up since it meant an upward movement in the ranks of the thieves guild, so Huzair went to live with the wizard and learn his trade, while the other boys began to work for other members of the thieves guild, Barak who owned the largest gambling hall in Farmin and his brother Faraz who owned the brothel. The wizard had him marked with identical tattoos to him so that everyone would know that if they messed with Huzair, they were messing with him. Needless to say after what happened to Huzair’s master no one even looked crossly at Huzair. In fact Huzair remained in contact with the underworld of Farmin, much to the displeasure of the good wizard, but boys will be boys and he needed friends. For 7 years his studies went well and the wizard became like a father to Huzair. The wizard worried about Huzair hanging around the wrong element, but knew that he had a good heart in spite of his taste for gambling, women and drink. He also knew he was one of the most intelligent creatures he had ever met and had a natural gift for the arcane.
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Ixin, Half-Dragon - Battle Sorcerer
Ixin Chaririejir, Female Half-Dragon (Red) Battle Sorcerer 4
Str 18, Dex 13, Con 18, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 16
Fort +5, Ref +2, Will +4
Atk +6 melee (1d6+5/x2 scimitar), +4 ranged (none currently)
AC 21 (+6 leather armor +3, +1 Ring of Protection, +4 natural), hp 43
SA darkvision, low-light vision, fire immunity, sleep immunity, paralysis immunity, breath weapon [cone of fire] 1/day, Glide
Feats/Skills: draconic heritage (bonus), draconic toughness, dragon wings, versatile spellcaster, Concentration +7, Knowledge (arcana) +8, Spellcraft +5, Use Magical Device +10
Spells (5/2/1): 0/dancing lights, 0/detect magic, 0/mage hand, 0/prestidigitation, 0/read magic, 1/magic missile, 1/true strike, 2/wraithstrike
Equipment: Leather Armor +3, Ring of Protection +1, Matched Pair Scimitars +1, scroll of false life
Ixin was born 125 years ago on the Io's Blood Islands
"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.
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Karak, Mountain Dwarf - Barbarian/Fighter/Cleric
Karak Kloskurmbur, Dwarf Male Barbarian 1/Fighter 5/Cleric 2
Str 20, Dex 10, Con 18, Int 10, Wis 15, Cha 8
Fort +13, Ref +2, Wis +9
AC 23 (+11 full plate+2, +2 axeblock buckler +1), hp 93
Atk +16 melee ([1d10+9] +1d6 cold, frost dwarven waraxe +1), +8 ranged (1d6+6 throwing axe)
SA Darkvision, Stability, Stonecunning, +2 vs. poison, spells, +1 atk vs. orcs/goblins, +4 AC vs. giants, Whirlwind Rage 1/day, evasion, Smite Evil 1/day, Inspire Allies 1/day
Feats/Skills: Toughness, Weapon Focus (dwarven waraxe), Power Attack, Cleave, Iron Will, Weapon Specialization (dwarven waraxe), Climb +1, Concentration +7, Craft (armorsmith) +4, Intimidate +1, Jump +3, Listen +4, Ride +2, Survival +5
Cleric Domains: Destiny, Nobility
Spells (4/3): 0/detect poison, 0/cure minor wounds, 0/inflict minor wounds, 0/read magic, 0/resistance, 1/cure light wounds, 1/divine favor, 1/doom, 1/true strike
Equipment: full plate +2, +1 axeblock buckler, frost dwarven waraxe +1, 2 throwing axes, boots of the winterland, gauntlets of ogre power, ring of feather falling, ring of freedom, wand of lesser vigor (33 charges), wand of cure light wounds (4 charges), scroll of dominate animal, charm bracelet with two charms (Luckstone and Clover), traveling gear
Karak was always religious for a fighter. He grew up believing in Shaharizod and was angry at the goddess that he was not chosen as Battleguard. He loved his brother, but still kept the seed of jealousy that Malak gained the rank of Battleguard when Karak could not. He protected his brother above all else even his own life, feeling it was his duty to protect the chosen of Shaharizod.He never knew why he was not chosen, he just felt it must be because he was less, not capable, not qualified.
After failing the entry tests for the Battleguard training hall, he went back to his homeland and studied mining and forging and fighting like any good dwarf, but his heart was not in it. He thought there must be more to life than being skilled with axe, mail, and shield but does not know what that might be.
"All were on edge due to the onset of the plague and the king’s men were no less at edge, often dealing cruelly and wickedly to those that disturbed their watch. The sergeant at arms approached Karak, kneeling on the street, and poked him in the back with his pole arm. “Ye better be moving along now, stuntie, we cannot no be having a disturbance in the merchant square. Take your dead now and move ye along.” Karak’s shoulders were still slumped in defeat as he cried silently upon his brother’s breast. The small squad of men at arms took a few steps back when the saw the sign of the pox on the dead dwarf’s face. The poleaxe poked again hard and rudely between the shoulder blades of the grieving dwarf. “I said, stuntie, be moving along now. Come, now go.” Karak sat like the boulder in the stream, cold, hard, and unmoving.
The sergeant’s men moved another step back making the sign of Flor as they retreated hoping to the Gods that they would not catch the pox. The sergeant lost for the fact that his command went unheard. Gripping his pole arm with two hands, he shoved hard with the iron capped butt end into Karak’s back. The force of the blow pushed Karak forward over his dead brother’s body and his hands splayed out to the side to catch himself from falling onto his brother. His left hand slapped the flagstones, his right hand landed on the leather wrapped hilt of his war axe.
Quietly and quickly the merchant tents closest to Karak untied the straps that held the main flap in place and let them drop with a plop onto the flagstones. The merchants dipped inside and were not to be seen again that night. Suddenly where there were a small throng of evening shoppers there were now none. All that remained in the square was a lone dwarf who stood planted with his feet square on the ground and a headless sergeant at arms with both his arms still gripping the offending pole axe. Lying next to the sergeant like petals of a flower were five of his men. Dead from grievous war axe wounds to the chest, head, back and arms. Steam rose from Karak’s body as his sweat cooled in the night air."
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Morier, Albino Drow - Eldritch Warrior/Havoc Mage
Morier Tulien, Male Drow (albino) Warrior 1/Eldritch Warrior 5/Havoc Mage 1
Str 15, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 14
Fort +10, Ref +3, Will +3
AC 20 (+5 chain shirt +2, +2 dex, +1 ring of protection, +1 amulet of natural armor), hp 59
Atk +7 melee (1d10+4 keen maiming bastard sword +1/17-20), +6 ranged (currently none)
SA: Darkvision, immunity to sleep, +2 to saves vs. spells, magic resistance 18, dancing lights 1/day, veil of shadows 1/day, faerie fire 1/day, Battlecast 2
Feats/Skills: Power Attack, Energy Affinity [electricity], Elemental Blade [electricity], Scribe Scroll (bonus), Improved Toughness, Thunderstrike, Concentration +8, Craft (weaponsmith) +9, Intimidate +4, Knowledge (arcana) +10, Ride +3, Spellcraft +10, Survival +2
Spells Known (3/3/1 day): 0/electric jolt, 0/mending, 0/quick boost, 1/true strike, 1/endure elements, 2/bull's strength
Equipment: masterwork silver greatsword, mithril chain shirt +2, Ravager (+1 keen maiming bastard sword), Amulet of Natural Armor +1, Ring of Protection +1
"Might I ask what you are?" asked the sorcerer.
For a moment the child was puzzled. "What you are" was a question he had not thought of before. He had been called different. He was reminded that he was wrong in every way. An embarrassment, a mistake, a freak. He had been told that he was evil, though he didn't truly believe it. He tried to find words to explain, but none came.
"You look for all the world as though you are a Drow, but your skin is as pale as the moon." the man said, "But forgive me, you should rest now. We'll talk later."
The child closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. Sleep, though was far from his mind. He still mistrusted the man who seemed to be taking such good care of him. The urge to run was strong, but he had nowhere to go. Home was no option. He had left there for the last time ever; he had decided that first and foremost. The only person he trusted there or anywhere was Mna, the troglodyte slave who had been in his parent's employ. He had been the only source of learning, the only source of interaction, and the only source of kindness anyone had ever shown him. Those moments of kindness had cost him though, in violent currency. But finding Mna would mean returning home, and he was sure that there would be no escaping death if he were ever discovered in Gr'inth'alia again.
He thought about opening his eyes, to survey what his surroundings offered in terms of escape, but the thought of having to answer the stranger's questions where he had none to give caused him to abandon the idea. He didn't know why he was different. He didn't know why his skin was pure white instead of ebony-black. He didn't know why his eyes weren't the same pale blue as the other men and women he saw walking the streets. He just knew he was different, and he had been punished severely for it.
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Shamalin, Half-Elf - Cleric
Shamalin Ferelac, Half-Elf Female Cleric 7
Str 11, Dex 10, Con 12, Int 14, Wis 15, Cha 16
Fort +6, Ref +2, Will +7
AC 25 (+11 heavy plate +2, +4 large steel shield +2), hp 45
Atk +1 melee (1d8/19-20 longsword [a weapon with which she is not actually proficient]), +5 ranged (currently none)
SA Lowlight Vision, Turn Undead 10/day
Feats/Skills: extra turning, empower spell, reach spell, Concentration +8, Diplomacy +13, Heal +11, Knowledge (religion) +9, Sense Motive +6, Spellcraft +6
Cleric Domains: Healing, Knowledge
Spells (6/4+1/3+1/2+1/1+1):
Equipment: Heavy Plate Armor +2, Large Steel Shield +2, Circlet of Persuasion, Ring of Feather Fall, miscellaneous gear
Shamalin's mother was known throughout Pelham as The Golden Voice, her beauty surpassed only by that of her song. Her arias regularly graced the halls of Duke Kesin, and she grew to womanhood enjoying a comfortable lifestyle within the walls of his city. Eventually, however, jealousy and shame forced her to abandon her career and take refuge with the sisers of mercy in Flocksam. Without judgement among the followers of Flor, she bore an illegitimate daughter. The young mother took sick and died shortly thereafter, leaving, Shamalin to be raised by the priestesses there.
As Shamalin grew, it became apparent that she had inherited some of her mother's god-given ability. She was free to explore her talent, and took to entwining music and with the art of healing practiced at the temple. Her unique blend of expression and medicine delighted her sisterhood "family." Not everyone shared an appreciation for her art, however. As a youngster, she exasperated the local merchants by hanging around the marketplace singing melodies to those sick or stricken animals which had been marked for slaughter, and then pleading for their lives to be spared. Whether her song did anything more than calm the uncomfortable beasts, no one could say for certain. But Shamalin pursued her passions nonetheless, weaving her music into temple healing rites until it became difficult to separate the two.
Time passed and soon the head of the local order, Holy Sister Elza, deemed it time for the young priestess to venture out into the world to share her gift. Hesitant at first, Shamalin grew to relish the opportunity to travel and learn about a world much bigger than Flocksam. Each experience provided a new facet to her song. She traveled wherever the call for healing drew her, and soon found her place within a company of adventurers known as The Speckled Band.
