Land Outcast
Explorer
Last edited:
Darkness Under Cold Stones
Dire Lemming
First Post
[sblock='Shoon']
[sblock='Inventory']
[/sblock][sblock='Description']Age: 18
Height: 5’ 9”
Weight: 131
Eyes: greenish blue
Hair: blond
Skin: pale
Shoon's hair is short though not short enough to make you think it would stick up in the way it does. He has a lean, athletic build. He wouldn't stand out as someone who might be skilled in combat were it not for the large assortment of weapons attached to various parts of his clothing.[/sblock][sblock='History'] War came suddenly to the Queendom of Felunus, though not unexpectedly. The nearby Kingdom of Dowain had been expanding its borders for years now, ever since Duke Rolgarth had gained supreme command of its army. At first Felunus had attempted to remain neutral in the conflict, but as it’s weaker neighbors slowly succumbed it became clear that something must be done. Overruling the majority of the senate, Queen Kellena declared war on Dowain. Despite the initial doubts the war went extremely well. The queen’s husband Lord Cerod, Commander of the Queen’s Knights, was as masterful a military leader as his wife was a politician, and many expected Dowain to sue for peace as they were pushed farther and farther back towards their original territory.
In fact, Dowain had lost more soldiers to desertion than to Falunan steel, but Duke Rolgarth refused to surrender, doing everything in his power to hide the truth about the war from the king. He desperately required new allies and he called for help from the Order of Dusk, who had thus far remained neutral in the conflict, observing the war from their great citadel high in the northern mountains. They refused, and Rolgarth, furious but helpless could do nothing but continue losing troops. One night he received a strange visitor, a young man appeared in his bedchamber, soundlessly, and spoke to him, in a quiet, emotionless voice. “Rolgarth of Dowain, you have need of allies at this time, your last hope, the Order of Dusk, has refused you. Know that we are Nether Blade, w are darkness given thought and we shall assist you. In return, we merely request that when you are victorious, you remember our aid.” He said, his face an empty mask. Rolgarth’s agreement was immediate, nodding eagerly he said, “Yes, yes, anything you desire. I will tell you what to do. In the temples to the east and west of Sol Felunas there are a shield and a sword. The Shield of Dawn and the Sword of Dusk. Take them, without their power Felunus shall falter, then you may slay their pitiful wench, queen. I shall have my victory and you, your reward.” The man nodded silently, “Very well, know this Rolgarth, do not attempt to betray us, you will not enjoy the consequences.” And with that, he leapt from the bedroom window, and was gone. Not a week later he received word that there had been a massacre within the east and west sun temples of Felunus and that the sword and shield were gone. With that he redirected his forces for revenge on the Duskblades for what he saw as their betrayal.
Prince Zhalan, despite being the eldest child of the queen was never raised to rule, since as a male he was not in line for the throne. Still, as a member of the royal family he had many obligations. He was often send as a diplomat to various neighboring lands and so learned to appreciate the ways of others. His father also insisted that he learn physical combat as the wilderness was still dangerous, even with his personal bodyguard, Sion at his side at almost all times. The Prince took to these lessons eagerly, not only because of his father’s praise but also because of Sion, they had known each other since his father had brought her to the palace as a small child and at the age of 7 allowed her to become a squire in the Queen’s Knights, something unheard of at the time. In any case, she had been his shadow since then and though she was supposed to protect him, and was quite capable of it, he didn’t wish to see her put herself in harms way. While his mother was a compassionate and good woman, she was a queen, and was always very busy with royal affairs, so he spent most of his free time playing with his younger sister, and future queen, Princess Elesia and other members of the royal court, or training with Sion. He was popular with the Queen’s Knight’s who saw in him both the spirit of his mother and (despite also physically resembling his mother) the strength of his father, well most of them did. The war did little to affect his life, he was sent out less, and he saw his father and the knights less often as well, but other than that there was little he could notice. This however, would soon change for the worse. The massacres at the temples of Dawn and Dusk came as a shock to him as he had thought that there would never be such violence so deep within Felunus with the war being fought elsewhere. On top of it, the two powerful artifacts stored at the temples had disappeared. While Zhalan had no idea what this meant, his parents did.
Legend said that one who wielded the sword and shield could gain the ultimate power of Falunus’ most ancient and powerful artifact, the Orb of The Sun, said to be a gift from Amaterasu herself to bless Felunus. It was said that it had power to destroy nations, and the power to create life, though there was no historical account of it ever being used. It was clear that whoever had stolen the sword and shield wanted the orb as well, so in secret, Queen Kellena took the orb and used magic to bear it upon her forehead. Less than a week later the castle was assaulted in the night by an unknown group of assassins. To the astonishment of many who lived long enough to experience that emotion they seemed to be Duskblades yet for stealthier than normal, and superhumanly strong. However, the palace was prepared, they put up a strong defense despite the lack of soldiers that had left with the army, and the queen’s knights held there own.
An assassin crept into Zhalan’s room and approached his bed with barely a noise; he raised his sword, preparing to deliver a killing blow. There was a sound of ripping fabric and a blade cut through the blanket and into the assassin’s heart, he looked down at it and then slightly up, to see the woman crouched in front of him, holding it. He brought down his sword only to feel it cut through the soft mattress as she dove to the side, ripping the blade out and leaving a large gash. He collapsed on the remains of the bed, soaking the stuffing with his blood. Sion glanced around as Zhalan emerged from the shadows, “It looks like it’s started your highness, we better find the princess sister.” As they ran down the passage, Sion in front, a shadow suddenly jumped at them, Sion dodged just in time to avoid a grievous wound as a blade clipped her shoulder, rending her chain mail with frightening ease. “Enchantments.” She hissed as she took her turn to deal a far fiercer blow, the assassin went down to his knees but tried to gut Sion from his new position, Zhalak deftly threw his sai right into his head and there was a sickening crack, the assassin collapsed. “Are you alright, said Zhalan, eying the torn armor as he bent down to pick up his sai, “I’m fine,” Sion replied “he just got the armor.” They continued down the hall and into another turn when they run into another dark figure. I was not an assassin though, “Georg!” yelled Zhalan in surprise, “What are you doing here? What’s happened to my mother and father, and Ele?” The knight looked grim as he spoke. “Why are you still here, you need to leave, now. They want her highness alive but they’ll kill you.” “What? But… We have to rescue her.” Zhalan replied. “And what about my mother and father, aren’t you supposed to be with them?” Georg looked strange as he spoke. “The queen and Cerod… are dead.” He said. It took a moment for Zhalan to fully comprehend the meaning of these words. “But…” he said, “But you were right there. How could?” he couldn’t finish. Georg looked at him sadly, almost regretfully. “Well, we have to try to rescue Ele!” he said, trying to run off as Geog restrained him. “No, they won’t hurt her, they need her alive. You they will kill.” He pushed him back and Zhalan struggled to maintain his balance, glaring at the knight. He started to move forward again Sion put a hand to his shoulder. “Your highness…” she said quietly. He turned on her, “Are you going to help me, or just leave Ele to the assassins?!” he shot. Sion looked hurt, but all she said was; “I’m sorry.” As her fist collided with his abdomen and his world went dark.
Zhalan awoke bumping along in a wagon, the sun was low in sky to his left and as he sat up he realized that he was on a road, some distance away, to what he now realized was the south, he could make out the spires of the Sun Palace and Sol Felunus jutting from the lake on which they were built. He glanced around himself and saw Sion turning towards him. “Oh you’re awake!” she said, smiling faintly. “You punched me!” said Zhalan, mostly aghast but also slightly angry. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking over him to see if he was hurt, “but you wouldn’t listen to Sir Georg and he’s right you know.” There was no point in arguing about it now, regardless of the fact that Georg probably was right. So Zhalan set about watching the terrain as they passed by the uncomfortable hours.
Over the next days they stowed their old clothes to don less conspicuous ones than royal garb and knight’s uniforms. Finally they reached the northern border, Gerg said that this was as far as he could go with them and told them to keep traveling north. “Take on an identity, and some sort of profession.” He handed them a sack of gold and looked to the south. “I’m sorry your highness.” He said one more time, before he started to walk. Sion coaxed the horse forward and they set off into the unknown.
Though Zhalan has traveled a great deal, it has always been as part of a royal envoy and thus relatively sheltered. He’s usually only been able to gain random facts about the places he’s visited due in and though curious, is not the book reading type. So he his knowledge of the world outside the queendom is sketchy at best. He is a kind and compassionate person, this is sometimes mistaken weakness but he is in fact skilled with many exotic weapons. As part of his disguise, he has taken the name Shoon, after a famous martial artist of Felunus’ past. He cut his silver hair short and dyed it blond and has taken to wearing plain clothes. He’d never had a fashion sense to begin with so this was easy for him.
He is a bit naïve, generally thinking the best of others and rarely suspicious. Sion has been suspicious enough for the both of them, which has led to more than a few problems. They have taken on the guise of bounty hunters to assist in avoiding detection and to provide an income as they head further north.[/sblock][sblock='Sion']
Age 18
Height: 5’ 7”
Weight: 129
Eyes: brown
Hair: black
Skin: pale
Sion is a young woman with a pretty face that is often masked with concern, as she constantly dwells upon her duties as a bodyguard. Her devotion stems from both a feeling of debt towards Zhalan’s father and truly caring about Zhalan himself and she is often overzealous in protecting him. This is in fact what caused her to become ill in the first place, only pretending to sleep during his turn at watch, among other things. Sion is of about average height and build for a human female which often leads others to underestimate her strength. She currently looks a bit thin due to lack of nutrition from secretly saving part of her daily ration for an emergency. She usually (since she stopped wearing a squire’s uniform) wears a chain shirt over a plain tunic and trousers and knee high leather boots. Her dark hair doesn’t quite reach her shoulders and her eyes always seem alert and searching for danger.[/sblock][/sblock]
Code:
Name: Shoon (Prince Zhalan)
Class: Monk 2
Race: Human
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Alignment: LG
Str: 12 +1 Level: 2 XP: 1000
Dex: 17 +3 BAB: +1 HP: 14 of 14
Con: 10 +0 Grapple: +2
Int: 13 +1 Speed: 30 ft.
Wis: 14 +2 Init: +7
Cha: 10 +0
Total Base Armor Shield Dex Size Nat Misc
AC: 15 10 0 0 +3 0 0 +2
Touch: 15 Flat-footed: 12
Total Base Mod Misc
Fort: 3 +3 +0 0
Ref: 6 +3 +3 0
Will: 5 +3 +2 0
Weapon Attack Damage Critical Range
Unarmed strike +4 1d6+1 x2
Quarterstaff +2 1d6+1 x2
Kama +4 1d6+1 x2
Siangham +4 1d6+1 x2
Sai +4 1d4+1 x2 10
Languages:
Common
Celestial
Abilities:
Evasion
Unarmed Strike
Flurry of blows
Stunning Fist x2
Feats:
Improved Unarmed Strike
Stunning Fist
Weapon Finesse
Improved Initiative
Skills Total Ranks Mod Misc
Appraise 1 0 1
Balance 6 3 3
Climb 4 3 1
Craft 1 0 1
Diplomacy 5 5 0
Escape Artist 7 4 3
Forgery 1 0 1
Heal 4 2.5 2
Hide 3 0 3
Jump 4 3 1
Listen 2 0 2
Move Silently 3 0 3
Ride 3 0 3
Search 1 0 1
Sense Motive 2 0 2
Spot 2 0 2
Survival 2 0 2
Swim 4 3 1
Tumble 7 4 3
Use Rope 3 0 3
Code:
Equipment: Cost Weight Armor/Shield Bonus
Cold Weather Outfit 8 gp 7 lb.
Backpack 2 gp 2 lb.
Quarterstaff - 4 lb.
Kama 2 gp 2 lb.
Siangham 3 gp 1 lb.
Sai x3 3 gp 3 lb.
Nunchaku 2 gp 2 lb.
Total Weight: 21 lb.
Inside Backpack:
Grappling Hook 1 gp 4 lb.
Rope, Silk 10 gp 5 lb.
Climber’s Kit 80 gp 5 lb.
Healer’s Kit 50 gp 5 lb.
Total Weight: 19 lb.
Light Warhorse 150 gp -
Bit and bridle 2 gp 1 lb.
Pack Saddle 5 gp 20 lb.
Cart 15 gp 200 lb.
In Pack Saddle/Wagon
Monk’s Outfit 5 gp 2 lb.
Bedroll x2 2 sp 10 lb.
Flint and steel 1 gp -
Trail Rations x4 2 gp 4 lb.
Water Skin x2 2 gp 8 lb.
Masterwork Manacles, good lock x2 260 gp 6 lb.
Masterwork Manacles, good lock S x2 260 gp 6 lb.
Tent 10 gp 20 lb.
Money: 31gp 8sp
Light Medium Heavy Lift Drag
Weight Limit: 43 lb. or less 44-86 lb. 87-130 lb. 260 lb. 650 lb.
Current Encumbrance: 40 lb.Height: 5’ 9”
Weight: 131
Eyes: greenish blue
Hair: blond
Skin: pale
Shoon's hair is short though not short enough to make you think it would stick up in the way it does. He has a lean, athletic build. He wouldn't stand out as someone who might be skilled in combat were it not for the large assortment of weapons attached to various parts of his clothing.[/sblock][sblock='History'] War came suddenly to the Queendom of Felunus, though not unexpectedly. The nearby Kingdom of Dowain had been expanding its borders for years now, ever since Duke Rolgarth had gained supreme command of its army. At first Felunus had attempted to remain neutral in the conflict, but as it’s weaker neighbors slowly succumbed it became clear that something must be done. Overruling the majority of the senate, Queen Kellena declared war on Dowain. Despite the initial doubts the war went extremely well. The queen’s husband Lord Cerod, Commander of the Queen’s Knights, was as masterful a military leader as his wife was a politician, and many expected Dowain to sue for peace as they were pushed farther and farther back towards their original territory.
In fact, Dowain had lost more soldiers to desertion than to Falunan steel, but Duke Rolgarth refused to surrender, doing everything in his power to hide the truth about the war from the king. He desperately required new allies and he called for help from the Order of Dusk, who had thus far remained neutral in the conflict, observing the war from their great citadel high in the northern mountains. They refused, and Rolgarth, furious but helpless could do nothing but continue losing troops. One night he received a strange visitor, a young man appeared in his bedchamber, soundlessly, and spoke to him, in a quiet, emotionless voice. “Rolgarth of Dowain, you have need of allies at this time, your last hope, the Order of Dusk, has refused you. Know that we are Nether Blade, w are darkness given thought and we shall assist you. In return, we merely request that when you are victorious, you remember our aid.” He said, his face an empty mask. Rolgarth’s agreement was immediate, nodding eagerly he said, “Yes, yes, anything you desire. I will tell you what to do. In the temples to the east and west of Sol Felunas there are a shield and a sword. The Shield of Dawn and the Sword of Dusk. Take them, without their power Felunus shall falter, then you may slay their pitiful wench, queen. I shall have my victory and you, your reward.” The man nodded silently, “Very well, know this Rolgarth, do not attempt to betray us, you will not enjoy the consequences.” And with that, he leapt from the bedroom window, and was gone. Not a week later he received word that there had been a massacre within the east and west sun temples of Felunus and that the sword and shield were gone. With that he redirected his forces for revenge on the Duskblades for what he saw as their betrayal.
Prince Zhalan, despite being the eldest child of the queen was never raised to rule, since as a male he was not in line for the throne. Still, as a member of the royal family he had many obligations. He was often send as a diplomat to various neighboring lands and so learned to appreciate the ways of others. His father also insisted that he learn physical combat as the wilderness was still dangerous, even with his personal bodyguard, Sion at his side at almost all times. The Prince took to these lessons eagerly, not only because of his father’s praise but also because of Sion, they had known each other since his father had brought her to the palace as a small child and at the age of 7 allowed her to become a squire in the Queen’s Knights, something unheard of at the time. In any case, she had been his shadow since then and though she was supposed to protect him, and was quite capable of it, he didn’t wish to see her put herself in harms way. While his mother was a compassionate and good woman, she was a queen, and was always very busy with royal affairs, so he spent most of his free time playing with his younger sister, and future queen, Princess Elesia and other members of the royal court, or training with Sion. He was popular with the Queen’s Knight’s who saw in him both the spirit of his mother and (despite also physically resembling his mother) the strength of his father, well most of them did. The war did little to affect his life, he was sent out less, and he saw his father and the knights less often as well, but other than that there was little he could notice. This however, would soon change for the worse. The massacres at the temples of Dawn and Dusk came as a shock to him as he had thought that there would never be such violence so deep within Felunus with the war being fought elsewhere. On top of it, the two powerful artifacts stored at the temples had disappeared. While Zhalan had no idea what this meant, his parents did.
Legend said that one who wielded the sword and shield could gain the ultimate power of Falunus’ most ancient and powerful artifact, the Orb of The Sun, said to be a gift from Amaterasu herself to bless Felunus. It was said that it had power to destroy nations, and the power to create life, though there was no historical account of it ever being used. It was clear that whoever had stolen the sword and shield wanted the orb as well, so in secret, Queen Kellena took the orb and used magic to bear it upon her forehead. Less than a week later the castle was assaulted in the night by an unknown group of assassins. To the astonishment of many who lived long enough to experience that emotion they seemed to be Duskblades yet for stealthier than normal, and superhumanly strong. However, the palace was prepared, they put up a strong defense despite the lack of soldiers that had left with the army, and the queen’s knights held there own.
An assassin crept into Zhalan’s room and approached his bed with barely a noise; he raised his sword, preparing to deliver a killing blow. There was a sound of ripping fabric and a blade cut through the blanket and into the assassin’s heart, he looked down at it and then slightly up, to see the woman crouched in front of him, holding it. He brought down his sword only to feel it cut through the soft mattress as she dove to the side, ripping the blade out and leaving a large gash. He collapsed on the remains of the bed, soaking the stuffing with his blood. Sion glanced around as Zhalan emerged from the shadows, “It looks like it’s started your highness, we better find the princess sister.” As they ran down the passage, Sion in front, a shadow suddenly jumped at them, Sion dodged just in time to avoid a grievous wound as a blade clipped her shoulder, rending her chain mail with frightening ease. “Enchantments.” She hissed as she took her turn to deal a far fiercer blow, the assassin went down to his knees but tried to gut Sion from his new position, Zhalak deftly threw his sai right into his head and there was a sickening crack, the assassin collapsed. “Are you alright, said Zhalan, eying the torn armor as he bent down to pick up his sai, “I’m fine,” Sion replied “he just got the armor.” They continued down the hall and into another turn when they run into another dark figure. I was not an assassin though, “Georg!” yelled Zhalan in surprise, “What are you doing here? What’s happened to my mother and father, and Ele?” The knight looked grim as he spoke. “Why are you still here, you need to leave, now. They want her highness alive but they’ll kill you.” “What? But… We have to rescue her.” Zhalan replied. “And what about my mother and father, aren’t you supposed to be with them?” Georg looked strange as he spoke. “The queen and Cerod… are dead.” He said. It took a moment for Zhalan to fully comprehend the meaning of these words. “But…” he said, “But you were right there. How could?” he couldn’t finish. Georg looked at him sadly, almost regretfully. “Well, we have to try to rescue Ele!” he said, trying to run off as Geog restrained him. “No, they won’t hurt her, they need her alive. You they will kill.” He pushed him back and Zhalan struggled to maintain his balance, glaring at the knight. He started to move forward again Sion put a hand to his shoulder. “Your highness…” she said quietly. He turned on her, “Are you going to help me, or just leave Ele to the assassins?!” he shot. Sion looked hurt, but all she said was; “I’m sorry.” As her fist collided with his abdomen and his world went dark.
Zhalan awoke bumping along in a wagon, the sun was low in sky to his left and as he sat up he realized that he was on a road, some distance away, to what he now realized was the south, he could make out the spires of the Sun Palace and Sol Felunus jutting from the lake on which they were built. He glanced around himself and saw Sion turning towards him. “Oh you’re awake!” she said, smiling faintly. “You punched me!” said Zhalan, mostly aghast but also slightly angry. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking over him to see if he was hurt, “but you wouldn’t listen to Sir Georg and he’s right you know.” There was no point in arguing about it now, regardless of the fact that Georg probably was right. So Zhalan set about watching the terrain as they passed by the uncomfortable hours.
Over the next days they stowed their old clothes to don less conspicuous ones than royal garb and knight’s uniforms. Finally they reached the northern border, Gerg said that this was as far as he could go with them and told them to keep traveling north. “Take on an identity, and some sort of profession.” He handed them a sack of gold and looked to the south. “I’m sorry your highness.” He said one more time, before he started to walk. Sion coaxed the horse forward and they set off into the unknown.
Though Zhalan has traveled a great deal, it has always been as part of a royal envoy and thus relatively sheltered. He’s usually only been able to gain random facts about the places he’s visited due in and though curious, is not the book reading type. So he his knowledge of the world outside the queendom is sketchy at best. He is a kind and compassionate person, this is sometimes mistaken weakness but he is in fact skilled with many exotic weapons. As part of his disguise, he has taken the name Shoon, after a famous martial artist of Felunus’ past. He cut his silver hair short and dyed it blond and has taken to wearing plain clothes. He’d never had a fashion sense to begin with so this was easy for him.
He is a bit naïve, generally thinking the best of others and rarely suspicious. Sion has been suspicious enough for the both of them, which has led to more than a few problems. They have taken on the guise of bounty hunters to assist in avoiding detection and to provide an income as they head further north.[/sblock][sblock='Sion']
Code:
Name: Sion
Class: Fighter 2
Race: Human
Size: Medium
Gender: Female
Alignment: NG
Str: 16 +3 Level: 2 XP: 1000
Dex: 14 +2 BAB: +2 HP: 21 of 21
Con: 14 +2 Grapple: +5
Int: 12 +1 Speed: 30 ft.
Wis: 12 +1 Init: +6
Cha: 10 +0 ACP: -4
Total Base Armor Shield Dex Size Nat Misc
AC: 18 10 +4 +2 +2 0 0 0
Touch: 12 Flat-footed: 16
Total Base Mod Misc
Fort: 5 +3 +2
Ref: 2 0 +2
Will: 1 0 +1
Weapon Attack Damage Critical
Unarmed Strike +5 1d3 x2
Bastard Sword +5 1d10 19-20 x2
Languages:
Common
Celestial
Feats:
Armor Proficiency (light)
Armor Proficiency (medium)
Armor Proficiency (heavy)
Shield Proficiency
Tower Shield Proficiency
Simple Weapon Proficiency
Martial Weapon Proficiency
Exotic Weapon Proficiency (Bastard Sword)
Weapon Focus (Bastard Sword)
Alertness
Improved Initiative
Skills Total Ranks Mod Misc
Appraise 1 0 1
Balance 2 0 2
Climb 6 3 3
Concentration 2 0 2
Craft 1 0 1
Escape Artist 2 0 2
Forgery 1 0 1
Heal 1 0 1
Intimidate 5 5 0
Jump 6 3 3
Listen 4 1 1 2
Move Silently 2 0 2
Ride 2 0 2
Search 1 0 1
Sense Motive 1 0 1
Spot 5 2 1 2
Survival 1 0 1
Swim 6 3 3
Use Rope 2 0 2
Equipment:
Bastard Sword
Heavy Wood Shield
Chain Shirt
Cold Weather OutfitAge 18
Height: 5’ 7”
Weight: 129
Eyes: brown
Hair: black
Skin: pale
Sion is a young woman with a pretty face that is often masked with concern, as she constantly dwells upon her duties as a bodyguard. Her devotion stems from both a feeling of debt towards Zhalan’s father and truly caring about Zhalan himself and she is often overzealous in protecting him. This is in fact what caused her to become ill in the first place, only pretending to sleep during his turn at watch, among other things. Sion is of about average height and build for a human female which often leads others to underestimate her strength. She currently looks a bit thin due to lack of nutrition from secretly saving part of her daily ration for an emergency. She usually (since she stopped wearing a squire’s uniform) wears a chain shirt over a plain tunic and trousers and knee high leather boots. Her dark hair doesn’t quite reach her shoulders and her eyes always seem alert and searching for danger.[/sblock][/sblock]
Last edited:
Scotley
Hero
Kragor Tragaren Human Duskblade 2
Character [sblock]Kragor Tragaren
Human Duskblade 2nd lvl
Neutral Good
Str 15
Dex 12
Con 12
Int 14
Wis 12
Cha 12.
Patron:
Hit Points 8+1d8+2
AC 18, Touch 13, Flat 15
Init +1
BAB +2, Grap +3
Speed 30 (base 30, light armor)
Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +4
+6 Melee, Longsword, 1d8 19-20/x2
+4 Melee, Flail, 1d8 20/x2 trip or +2 on disarm
+3 Ranged, Javelin, 1d6, 20/x2, 30'r
Medium, 5'9" tall, 155 wt, 22 yrs old
Black curly hair, brown eyes, olive skin
Speaks common and celestial
Skills 20 (2+1Int per level +1 race and x4 at 1st level)
Climb (+2Str)
Concentration (4+1Con+4 feat on defensive, grappling or pinned)
Craft- (+2Int)
Decipher Script (1+2Int)
Jump (+2Str) ac
Knowledge (arcana) (5+2Int)
Knowledge (history) (1+2Int)
Knowledge (nature) (1+2Int)
Listen xx (+1Wis)
Ride (1+1Dex)
Search xx (+2Int)
Sense Motive (+1Wis)
Spellcraft (5+2Int+2Syn)
Spot xx (+1Wis)
Swim (1+1Str)
Feats
-Combat Casting (Class Bonus)
-Weapon Focus Longsword
-Quickdraw
-
Human Traits
-bonus feat at 1st level
-bonus skill points
Duskblade Abilities
-Arcane Attunement—Use dancing lights, detect magic, flare, ghost sound and read magic a combined total of 3+2Int per day.
-Armored Mage, Light
-Bonus Feat Combat Casting
-
Duskblade Spells Known Save DC: 10+2+Level of spell
Spells Per Day 4 0 Level, 4 1st Level
0th-acid splash, disrupt undead, ray of frost, touch of fatigue
1st-Kelgore’s Fire Bolt, Burning Hands, Magic Weapon
2nd-
Appearance/Personality: Kragor is a thin bookish looking young man with olive skin and and dark curly hair that reaches just to his shoulders. His dark eyes seem to have a perpetual squint to them, perhaps a product of his voracious reading. He is surprisingly strong despite his average size and thin frame. He is a fairly handsome lad, but somewhat careless about his appearance. He tends to favor simple comfortable clothes in light grays, greens and blues. A well made chain shirt serves to ease the appearance of thinness. He carries a small, but stout oaken shield painted with the Trageren arms, a rampant wildcat on a green field. He wears a finely made longsword with an odd black leather hilt wrapping that covers the crossguard (and its embossed blade and book emblems). A flail and dagger also hang from his belt and an oversized quiver full of javelins is worn at the shoulder. He almost always has a book of some sort to hand. He reads frequently and for this reason may come across as shy or reserved, but he likes people and enjoys their companionship. Like many young trained warriors he is often looking for an excuse to perform noble deeds or otherwise display his manly prowess.
History/Background: Kragor Tregaren was born a lessor son of a minor branch of a noble house in the Kingdom of Peltor east of Dowain. Belgor Tregaren was a aged warrior of some reknown who was deeply concerned that one of his sons was too bookish and not given to proper manly pursuits. He insisted that his son find militant order and study war. Cunningly, Kragor found an order where he could satisfy his father's directive as well as his own desires. He joined the Duskblades and studied not only war, but also magic. The training made him strong and able of body as well as bringing him the fortitude of mind to harness arcane power. He was just coming into his own as a student when the trouble with Duke Rolgarth started.
MW Chain Shirt 250 gp
Shield, light wooden 3 gp
Explorers’ Outfit
Cold Weather Outfit 7 gp
MW Long Sword 315 gp
Flail 12 gp
Javelins x10 10 gp
Dagger 2 gp
Backpack (center back) 2 gp
Bedroll (below backpack) 1 sp
Blanket, winter 5 sp
Belt pouch x2 2 gp
Torch x2 2 cp
Flint and Steel 1 gp
Assorted books--history, warfare, poetry, nature. 50 gp
Waterskin-water (backpack) 1 gp
Trail Rations-4 days (backpack) 2 gp
Sun Rodx2 4 gp
Holy Water x2 50 gp
Potion of Cure Light wounds x2 100 gp
Coins- 95 gp, 1sp, 4 cp (pouch)
[/sblock]
Prequel [sblock]Kragor woke from sleep with a start, “The hounds, the hounds!” He was drenched with a cold sweat. The howling was only a lone hungry wolf far out in the night. Shivering and in the chill room, he dropped a fresh log on the dying embers and prodded the fire in the little hearth back to life. There might not be enough to eat in this godsforsaken hamlet, but at least the forest meant they wouldn’t freeze. Wrapping a blanket around himself, the olive skinned man raised a flap to peek out the window. Still the small hours of the night he thought with a sigh. He should have taken the boat south and let Largos ride that nag into the frozen north. Largos was probably sitting on the Sunstrand drinking chilled wine punch under a palm tree. He thought back to that terrible day.
Largos burst into the study. “Gather your things lad, we must flee. Old Red Rolgarth has put a bounty on all Duskblades. Even young pups like you.”
Blinking in confusion Kragor asked, “The Duke? Why? We didn’t even fight in his war.”
“That’s the point lad. He thinks if you aren’t with him you’re against him. He never liked our order anyway. Brado and Silvo’s daughter took it upon themselves to try and help defend Longpool against the Duke’s men. That was all the excuse he needed to send his army to the Citadel.”
“Gods no!” The younger man got to his feet and began to buckle on his sword. “We’ll gut Rolgarth and hang him from the gate.”
“Easy lad it is too late for that. The Citadel is fallen. The High Ones decided it was better to flee though the Twilight Gate. Almost everyone got out. Senior Prado took the Tome of Dusk and Ammon’s Blade west across the sea. The rest are scattering.”
“The Book and Blade are safe?” Nodded to himself, “Then the order will survive. What of the initiate’s tower here?”
“To be abandoned and burned,” Largos announced. “We are to scatter you lot to the wind. You’ve your choice, we’ve a boat big enough for perhaps six…”
“I’ve never been fond of boats, is there ought else?”, Kragor cut in.
Largos shrugged, “I’ve an old nag in the yard that you can ride North on the high road if you like. Dara’s got a horse and will be going that way. I’ll take the boat.”
“Thank you Largos,” The men shook hands, “We’ll meet again soon. Someone will bring an end to Duke Rolgarth and the order will rebuild.” Largos nodded, but looked doubtful.
Kragor went to gather his gear and he and Dara departed quickly. As they road North a plume of smoke rose in the distance behind them. Soon, hounds were baying behind. The bounty hunters were in pursuit.
The rest was a jumble of memories, riding that nag until she dropped, the running and hiding, quick deadly engagements with the pursuers, spells and swords, Dara dying in his arms. Finally, he got far enough north that few people knew what the Duskblades were. His olive skin and curly dark hair stood out here, but word of Duke Rolgarth’s war much less his bounty had yet to reach this land.
Kragor took a drink of water from a pitcher on the night stand and put one more log on the fire. He slipped back into sleep wondering what the day would hold…[/sblock]
Character [sblock]Kragor Tragaren
Human Duskblade 2nd lvl
Neutral Good
Str 15
Dex 12
Con 12
Int 14
Wis 12
Cha 12.
Patron:
Hit Points 8+1d8+2
AC 18, Touch 13, Flat 15
Init +1
BAB +2, Grap +3
Speed 30 (base 30, light armor)
Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +4
+6 Melee, Longsword, 1d8 19-20/x2
+4 Melee, Flail, 1d8 20/x2 trip or +2 on disarm
+3 Ranged, Javelin, 1d6, 20/x2, 30'r
Medium, 5'9" tall, 155 wt, 22 yrs old
Black curly hair, brown eyes, olive skin
Speaks common and celestial
Skills 20 (2+1Int per level +1 race and x4 at 1st level)
Climb (+2Str)
Concentration (4+1Con+4 feat on defensive, grappling or pinned)
Craft- (+2Int)
Decipher Script (1+2Int)
Jump (+2Str) ac
Knowledge (arcana) (5+2Int)
Knowledge (history) (1+2Int)
Knowledge (nature) (1+2Int)
Listen xx (+1Wis)
Ride (1+1Dex)
Search xx (+2Int)
Sense Motive (+1Wis)
Spellcraft (5+2Int+2Syn)
Spot xx (+1Wis)
Swim (1+1Str)
Feats
-Combat Casting (Class Bonus)
-Weapon Focus Longsword
-Quickdraw
-
Human Traits
-bonus feat at 1st level
-bonus skill points
Duskblade Abilities
-Arcane Attunement—Use dancing lights, detect magic, flare, ghost sound and read magic a combined total of 3+2Int per day.
-Armored Mage, Light
-Bonus Feat Combat Casting
-
Duskblade Spells Known Save DC: 10+2+Level of spell
Spells Per Day 4 0 Level, 4 1st Level
0th-acid splash, disrupt undead, ray of frost, touch of fatigue
1st-Kelgore’s Fire Bolt, Burning Hands, Magic Weapon
2nd-
Appearance/Personality: Kragor is a thin bookish looking young man with olive skin and and dark curly hair that reaches just to his shoulders. His dark eyes seem to have a perpetual squint to them, perhaps a product of his voracious reading. He is surprisingly strong despite his average size and thin frame. He is a fairly handsome lad, but somewhat careless about his appearance. He tends to favor simple comfortable clothes in light grays, greens and blues. A well made chain shirt serves to ease the appearance of thinness. He carries a small, but stout oaken shield painted with the Trageren arms, a rampant wildcat on a green field. He wears a finely made longsword with an odd black leather hilt wrapping that covers the crossguard (and its embossed blade and book emblems). A flail and dagger also hang from his belt and an oversized quiver full of javelins is worn at the shoulder. He almost always has a book of some sort to hand. He reads frequently and for this reason may come across as shy or reserved, but he likes people and enjoys their companionship. Like many young trained warriors he is often looking for an excuse to perform noble deeds or otherwise display his manly prowess.
History/Background: Kragor Tregaren was born a lessor son of a minor branch of a noble house in the Kingdom of Peltor east of Dowain. Belgor Tregaren was a aged warrior of some reknown who was deeply concerned that one of his sons was too bookish and not given to proper manly pursuits. He insisted that his son find militant order and study war. Cunningly, Kragor found an order where he could satisfy his father's directive as well as his own desires. He joined the Duskblades and studied not only war, but also magic. The training made him strong and able of body as well as bringing him the fortitude of mind to harness arcane power. He was just coming into his own as a student when the trouble with Duke Rolgarth started.
MW Chain Shirt 250 gp
Shield, light wooden 3 gp
Explorers’ Outfit
Cold Weather Outfit 7 gp
MW Long Sword 315 gp
Flail 12 gp
Javelins x10 10 gp
Dagger 2 gp
Backpack (center back) 2 gp
Bedroll (below backpack) 1 sp
Blanket, winter 5 sp
Belt pouch x2 2 gp
Torch x2 2 cp
Flint and Steel 1 gp
Assorted books--history, warfare, poetry, nature. 50 gp
Waterskin-water (backpack) 1 gp
Trail Rations-4 days (backpack) 2 gp
Sun Rodx2 4 gp
Holy Water x2 50 gp
Potion of Cure Light wounds x2 100 gp
Coins- 95 gp, 1sp, 4 cp (pouch)
[/sblock]
Prequel [sblock]Kragor woke from sleep with a start, “The hounds, the hounds!” He was drenched with a cold sweat. The howling was only a lone hungry wolf far out in the night. Shivering and in the chill room, he dropped a fresh log on the dying embers and prodded the fire in the little hearth back to life. There might not be enough to eat in this godsforsaken hamlet, but at least the forest meant they wouldn’t freeze. Wrapping a blanket around himself, the olive skinned man raised a flap to peek out the window. Still the small hours of the night he thought with a sigh. He should have taken the boat south and let Largos ride that nag into the frozen north. Largos was probably sitting on the Sunstrand drinking chilled wine punch under a palm tree. He thought back to that terrible day.
Largos burst into the study. “Gather your things lad, we must flee. Old Red Rolgarth has put a bounty on all Duskblades. Even young pups like you.”
Blinking in confusion Kragor asked, “The Duke? Why? We didn’t even fight in his war.”
“That’s the point lad. He thinks if you aren’t with him you’re against him. He never liked our order anyway. Brado and Silvo’s daughter took it upon themselves to try and help defend Longpool against the Duke’s men. That was all the excuse he needed to send his army to the Citadel.”
“Gods no!” The younger man got to his feet and began to buckle on his sword. “We’ll gut Rolgarth and hang him from the gate.”
“Easy lad it is too late for that. The Citadel is fallen. The High Ones decided it was better to flee though the Twilight Gate. Almost everyone got out. Senior Prado took the Tome of Dusk and Ammon’s Blade west across the sea. The rest are scattering.”
“The Book and Blade are safe?” Nodded to himself, “Then the order will survive. What of the initiate’s tower here?”
“To be abandoned and burned,” Largos announced. “We are to scatter you lot to the wind. You’ve your choice, we’ve a boat big enough for perhaps six…”
“I’ve never been fond of boats, is there ought else?”, Kragor cut in.
Largos shrugged, “I’ve an old nag in the yard that you can ride North on the high road if you like. Dara’s got a horse and will be going that way. I’ll take the boat.”
“Thank you Largos,” The men shook hands, “We’ll meet again soon. Someone will bring an end to Duke Rolgarth and the order will rebuild.” Largos nodded, but looked doubtful.
Kragor went to gather his gear and he and Dara departed quickly. As they road North a plume of smoke rose in the distance behind them. Soon, hounds were baying behind. The bounty hunters were in pursuit.
The rest was a jumble of memories, riding that nag until she dropped, the running and hiding, quick deadly engagements with the pursuers, spells and swords, Dara dying in his arms. Finally, he got far enough north that few people knew what the Duskblades were. His olive skin and curly dark hair stood out here, but word of Duke Rolgarth’s war much less his bounty had yet to reach this land.
Kragor took a drink of water from a pitcher on the night stand and put one more log on the fire. He slipped back into sleep wondering what the day would hold…[/sblock]
Scotley
Hero
Brotherhood of the Flame
The Brotherhood of the Flame is a loose affiliation of clerics worshiping elemental fire. There is little in the way of organization or dogma. Each brother or sister finds their own peace with fire, and chooses a path accordingly. Some represent fire as a tool of humanity, others revel in its destructive side. There are no churches or centers of learning for the brotherhood, new priests are sought out and instructed by the old. However, one can identify a Brother by their symbol, the three part flame, and each member has a burn scar somewhere on their body, from the final induction ceremony.
Alignment: CN
Domains: Fire, Sun, Destruction, Strength, Earth
The Brotherhood of the Flame is a loose affiliation of clerics worshiping elemental fire. There is little in the way of organization or dogma. Each brother or sister finds their own peace with fire, and chooses a path accordingly. Some represent fire as a tool of humanity, others revel in its destructive side. There are no churches or centers of learning for the brotherhood, new priests are sought out and instructed by the old. However, one can identify a Brother by their symbol, the three part flame, and each member has a burn scar somewhere on their body, from the final induction ceremony.
Alignment: CN
Domains: Fire, Sun, Destruction, Strength, Earth
Rhun
First Post
Balund Skullseer
Neutral Human Spirit Shaman 2
Experience: 1000 (?)
Balund never fit in among city dwellers…his fondness for bones and skulls, and his odd habit of speaking to ghosts and spirits ostracized him from the society into which he had been born. When the local folk finally chased him out of the city, he took up wandering the land, and eventually fell in with nomadic tribesman who considered his ability to speak with spirits a rare gift. With the help of the tribal wisewoman, Balund developed his skills into more useful abilities. He also learned to hunt and fight among the tribesmen, becoming an excellent shot with a bow. After several years with the tribe, and having adopted many of their ways, the spirits whispered to Balund that is was time to seek the path of adventure. As the spirits whispered a path to him, he traveled across the lands, never remaining in any one place for too long.
Balund is of average height, and has a wiry, athletic build. He has strange patterns tattooed in woad upon his face, and rubs his dark hair with a white, lumpy powder (lime, which turns his hair white and causes it to spike up in fearsome looking tufts). Balund’s eyes are a clear, icy blue, and his gaze has been known to give honest folk a chill feeling. He dresses in a tribal fashion, wearing furs and leathers over his chainmail shirt, and wears jewelry fashioned out of odd bits of bones, brass beads and other worthless bits. He often mutters and whispers under his breath as if talking to someone, and sometimes has full conversations seemingly with the air. He has a habit of answering questions cryptically, and often refers to “the spirits” when he speaks. Most folk who observe Balund for any significant period of time usually come to the conclusion that the man is quite mad. He is often found drawing runes and symbols in dirt and dust, or casting bones and rocks to read the portents that the spirits speak to him.
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Height: 5’ 9”
Weight: 165 lb
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black (White)
Skin: Fair
STR: 12 [+1] 4 point
DEX: 14 [+2] 6 points
CON: 12 [+1] 4 points
INT: 10 [+0] 2 points
WIS: 16 [+3] 10 points
CHA: 14 [+2] 6 points
HP: 16 (14 + 2)
Armor Class: 17 (10 base + 2 dex + 4 armor + 1 shield)
Initiative: +2
Speed: 20' (30’ base, medium load)
BAB: +1
Attack:
- +2 Handaxe (1d6+1, x3)
- +3 Javelin (1d6+1, x2, 30’) or +4 (1d6+2) within 30’
- +4 Short Bow (1d6+1, x3, 60’) or +5 (1d6+2) within 30’
FORT: +4 (3 base + 1 con)
REFL: +2 (0 base + 2 dex)
WILL: +6 (3 base + 3 wis)
Abilities:
- Human Bonus Feat
- Human Bonus Skill Points
- Spirit Guide - Snake (Alertness)
- Wild Empathy
- Spellcasting
- Chastise Spirts
Feats:
1st Level
- Point Blank Shot
- Precise Shot
Skills: (24)
Concentration +4 (3 ranks, +1 con)
Diplomacy +5 (3 ranks, +2 cha)
Heal +5 (2 ranks, +3 wis)
Knowledge (local) +2 (2 ranks)
Listen +9 (4 ranks, +3 wis, +2 alertness)
Spellcraft +2 (2 ranks)
Spot +9 (4 ranks, +3 wis, +2 alertness)
Survival +5 (2 ranks, +3 wis)
Swim +3 (2 ranks, =1 str)
Languages:
- Common
Spells Per Day:
Level 0 (DC13): 4/4 – retrieved: Cure Minor Wounds, Light, Detect Magic
Level 1 (DC14): 2/4 – retrieved: Cure Light Wounds, Produce Flame
Equipment:
Armor & Shield
- Chain shirt (100gp, 25lb)
- Buckler (15gp, 5lb)
Melee weapons
- Hand Axe (6gp,3lb)
- Dagger (2gp, 1lb)
Ranged weapons
- Shortbow, composite masterwork (450gp, 2lb)
- 40 arrows (2gp, 6lb)
- 2 javelins (2gp, 4lb)
Miscellaneous Magical or Psionic Items
- N/A
Potions
- 2 cure light wounds
Mundane equipment
- Traveler’s Outfit (1gp, -lb)
- Backpack (2gp, 2lb)
- Bedroll (1sp, 5lb)
- Flint & steel (1gp, -lb)
- Chalk, 3 pieces (3cp, -lb)
- 4 sacks (4sp, 2lb)
- 5 days trail rations (25sp, 5 lb)
- Waterskin (1gp, 4 lb)
- Everburning torch (90gp, 1lb)
Weight Carried: Medium load, 65lb
Remaining money: 126 gp, 9 sp, 7 cp
Neutral Human Spirit Shaman 2
Experience: 1000 (?)
Balund never fit in among city dwellers…his fondness for bones and skulls, and his odd habit of speaking to ghosts and spirits ostracized him from the society into which he had been born. When the local folk finally chased him out of the city, he took up wandering the land, and eventually fell in with nomadic tribesman who considered his ability to speak with spirits a rare gift. With the help of the tribal wisewoman, Balund developed his skills into more useful abilities. He also learned to hunt and fight among the tribesmen, becoming an excellent shot with a bow. After several years with the tribe, and having adopted many of their ways, the spirits whispered to Balund that is was time to seek the path of adventure. As the spirits whispered a path to him, he traveled across the lands, never remaining in any one place for too long.
Balund is of average height, and has a wiry, athletic build. He has strange patterns tattooed in woad upon his face, and rubs his dark hair with a white, lumpy powder (lime, which turns his hair white and causes it to spike up in fearsome looking tufts). Balund’s eyes are a clear, icy blue, and his gaze has been known to give honest folk a chill feeling. He dresses in a tribal fashion, wearing furs and leathers over his chainmail shirt, and wears jewelry fashioned out of odd bits of bones, brass beads and other worthless bits. He often mutters and whispers under his breath as if talking to someone, and sometimes has full conversations seemingly with the air. He has a habit of answering questions cryptically, and often refers to “the spirits” when he speaks. Most folk who observe Balund for any significant period of time usually come to the conclusion that the man is quite mad. He is often found drawing runes and symbols in dirt and dust, or casting bones and rocks to read the portents that the spirits speak to him.
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Height: 5’ 9”
Weight: 165 lb
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black (White)
Skin: Fair
STR: 12 [+1] 4 point
DEX: 14 [+2] 6 points
CON: 12 [+1] 4 points
INT: 10 [+0] 2 points
WIS: 16 [+3] 10 points
CHA: 14 [+2] 6 points
HP: 16 (14 + 2)
Armor Class: 17 (10 base + 2 dex + 4 armor + 1 shield)
Initiative: +2
Speed: 20' (30’ base, medium load)
BAB: +1
Attack:
- +2 Handaxe (1d6+1, x3)
- +3 Javelin (1d6+1, x2, 30’) or +4 (1d6+2) within 30’
- +4 Short Bow (1d6+1, x3, 60’) or +5 (1d6+2) within 30’
FORT: +4 (3 base + 1 con)
REFL: +2 (0 base + 2 dex)
WILL: +6 (3 base + 3 wis)
Abilities:
- Human Bonus Feat
- Human Bonus Skill Points
- Spirit Guide - Snake (Alertness)
- Wild Empathy
- Spellcasting
- Chastise Spirts
Feats:
1st Level
- Point Blank Shot
- Precise Shot
Skills: (24)
Concentration +4 (3 ranks, +1 con)
Diplomacy +5 (3 ranks, +2 cha)
Heal +5 (2 ranks, +3 wis)
Knowledge (local) +2 (2 ranks)
Listen +9 (4 ranks, +3 wis, +2 alertness)
Spellcraft +2 (2 ranks)
Spot +9 (4 ranks, +3 wis, +2 alertness)
Survival +5 (2 ranks, +3 wis)
Swim +3 (2 ranks, =1 str)
Languages:
- Common
Spells Per Day:
Level 0 (DC13): 4/4 – retrieved: Cure Minor Wounds, Light, Detect Magic
Level 1 (DC14): 2/4 – retrieved: Cure Light Wounds, Produce Flame
Equipment:
Armor & Shield
- Chain shirt (100gp, 25lb)
- Buckler (15gp, 5lb)
Melee weapons
- Hand Axe (6gp,3lb)
- Dagger (2gp, 1lb)
Ranged weapons
- Shortbow, composite masterwork (450gp, 2lb)
- 40 arrows (2gp, 6lb)
- 2 javelins (2gp, 4lb)
Miscellaneous Magical or Psionic Items
- N/A
Potions
- 2 cure light wounds
Mundane equipment
- Traveler’s Outfit (1gp, -lb)
- Backpack (2gp, 2lb)
- Bedroll (1sp, 5lb)
- Flint & steel (1gp, -lb)
- Chalk, 3 pieces (3cp, -lb)
- 4 sacks (4sp, 2lb)
- 5 days trail rations (25sp, 5 lb)
- Waterskin (1gp, 4 lb)
- Everburning torch (90gp, 1lb)
Weight Carried: Medium load, 65lb
Remaining money: 126 gp, 9 sp, 7 cp
Last edited:
hafrogman
Adventurer
Ivan Bernhardt
[sblock=Character]
[/sblock]
[sblock=Description]Ivan is a tall, striking man of average build, but with a powerful presence to him. His dark red hair flows to his shoulders, pulled back to reveal sharp features and bright, green eyes. He's young still, just into his mid-twenties, but acts with maturity and confidence in his role as priest. There is a large burn scar on his chest, but mostly it is covered, showing as only a few faint tendrils climbing up his neck.[/sblock][sblock=Background]Ivan has lived in the same town his whole life, but he's never shown any discontent with that fact. Twenty four years ago, the winter was just as bitterly cold as this one, when he was brought into the world. His mother held him in her arms, sitting close to the hearth to keep the chill from her newborn son. The babe gazed deep into the dancing flames and a relationship was forged that would last him a lifetime.
He was a fairly normal child, running, playing with the other children. Sometimes minding his elders, sometimes not. But the one place he stood out was his obsession with fire. It took him longer than other children to learn to mind it's power and not get himself burned. He could occasionally be found lost in thought, staring into the flames, oblivious to the rest of the world.
When he was older, he found his way to Danya and the Brotherhood of Flame, seeking her instruction. Ivan learned about fire as an elemental force, fire the destroyer and fire, the giver of life. He learned respect for fire, not the simple fear of its bite that most have, but a true and deep understanding of fire's role in the world and human life. He studied for a long time with the priest, and eventually became a iniate of the fire. In his final induction, he embraced the living fire to his chest, it's power infusing him even as it burned him. Ivan is still young, but the eldest of Danya's adepts. He strives to serve his town, using his powers to stave off the encroaching winters as best he can. One day, he hopes to be qualified to take Danya's place, but that day is still far off.
He still remembered Balund from years before, a fey youth, to be sure. But always seemingly wise beyond his years. Once, while wandering the Winter Woods before this cold season, Ivan had stumbled across a cave, the symbols he found there matched those that Balund would festoon himself with. Obviously his old friend still lived, the cave was abandoned now, but Balund might return.
The cold of this winter is biting, and Danya's premonitions sent Ivan into the wilds, seeking aid. Knowing of no place else to go, he seeks Balund in the cave. When the shaman arrived he was accompanied by an orc, but one of seemingly decent intent. Perhaps this was the aid he sought. He told them Danya's tales and convinced them to return with him to help the people.
Now, more strangers have arrived in town. Southerners, unaccustomed to the winter, they stay in Danya's care. But perhaps they too will serve his purpose. All who can help will be needed.[/sblock]
[sblock=Character]
Code:
[B]Name:[/B] Ivan Bernhardt
[B]Class:[/B] Cleric
[B]Race:[/B] Human
[B]Size:[/B] Medium (6'1", 193 lbs)
[B]Gender:[/B] Male
[B]Alignment:[/B] Chaotic Good
[B]Deity:[/B] Fire
[B]Str:[/B] 14 +2 (6p.) [B]Level:[/B] 2 [B]XP:[/B] 0
[B]Dex:[/B] 10 +0 (2p.) [B]BAB:[/B] +1 [B]HP:[/B] 18 (2d8+4)
[B]Con:[/B] 14 +2 (6p.) [B]Grapple:[/B] +3
[B]Int:[/B] 10 +0 (2p.) [B]Speed:[/B] 20'
[B]Wis:[/B] 16 +3 (10p.) [B]Init:[/B] +0
[B]Cha:[/B] 14 +2 (6p.)
[B]Base Armor Shield Dex Size Misc[/B]
[B]Armor:[/B] 16 10 +5 +1 +0 +0 --
[B]Touch:[/B] 10
[B]Flat:[/B] 16
[B]Base Mod Misc[/B]
[B]Fort:[/B] +5 +3 +2 +0
[B]Ref:[/B] +0 +0 +0 +0
[B]Will:[/B] +6 +3 +3 +0
[B]Weapon Attack Damage Critical[/B]
MW Heavy Mace +4 1d8+2 20
Dagger +3 1d4+2 19-20
Dagger, Thrown +1 1d4+2 19-20 (10' range increment)
[B]Languages:[/B] Common
[B]Abilities:[/B]
Aura(Chaos, Good)
Turn Undead
Spontaneous Healing
Domains
- Fire (turn water, rebuke fire) [5/day]
- Sun (greater turning 1/day)
Clerical Spells
[B]Spells:[/B]
0th: 4 (Cure Minor Wounds x2, Light, Purify Food and Drink)
1st: 3+1 (Bless, Magic Weapon, Endure Elements, Burning Hands [D])
[B]Feats:[/B]
Negotiator[human]
Sacred Healing[1st]
[B]Skill Points:[/B] 15 [B]Max Ranks:[/B] 5/2
[B]Skills: Ranks Mod Misc[/B]
Concentration +7 5 +2 --
Diplomacy +9 5 +2 +2
Heal +8 5 +3 --
xSense Motive +7 0 +3 +2,+2
Armor Check Penalty: -3
[B]Equipment: Cost Weight[/B]
Backpack 2gp 2lb
Belt Pouch 2gp 1lb
Blanket, Winter 0.5gp 3lb
Flint & Steel 1gp 0lb
Holy Symbol (silver) 25gp 1lb
Rations (7 days) 3.5gp 7lb
Rope, Silk (50') 10gp 5lb
Waterskin 1gp 4lb
MW Heavy Mace 312gp 8lb
Dagger (2) 4gp 2lb
MW Breastplate 350gp 30lb
MW Buckler 165gp 5lb
Total 876
[B]Total Weight:[/B] 68lb (medium load)
[B]Money:[/B] 24 gp 0 sp 0 cp[sblock=Description]Ivan is a tall, striking man of average build, but with a powerful presence to him. His dark red hair flows to his shoulders, pulled back to reveal sharp features and bright, green eyes. He's young still, just into his mid-twenties, but acts with maturity and confidence in his role as priest. There is a large burn scar on his chest, but mostly it is covered, showing as only a few faint tendrils climbing up his neck.[/sblock][sblock=Background]Ivan has lived in the same town his whole life, but he's never shown any discontent with that fact. Twenty four years ago, the winter was just as bitterly cold as this one, when he was brought into the world. His mother held him in her arms, sitting close to the hearth to keep the chill from her newborn son. The babe gazed deep into the dancing flames and a relationship was forged that would last him a lifetime.
He was a fairly normal child, running, playing with the other children. Sometimes minding his elders, sometimes not. But the one place he stood out was his obsession with fire. It took him longer than other children to learn to mind it's power and not get himself burned. He could occasionally be found lost in thought, staring into the flames, oblivious to the rest of the world.
When he was older, he found his way to Danya and the Brotherhood of Flame, seeking her instruction. Ivan learned about fire as an elemental force, fire the destroyer and fire, the giver of life. He learned respect for fire, not the simple fear of its bite that most have, but a true and deep understanding of fire's role in the world and human life. He studied for a long time with the priest, and eventually became a iniate of the fire. In his final induction, he embraced the living fire to his chest, it's power infusing him even as it burned him. Ivan is still young, but the eldest of Danya's adepts. He strives to serve his town, using his powers to stave off the encroaching winters as best he can. One day, he hopes to be qualified to take Danya's place, but that day is still far off.
He still remembered Balund from years before, a fey youth, to be sure. But always seemingly wise beyond his years. Once, while wandering the Winter Woods before this cold season, Ivan had stumbled across a cave, the symbols he found there matched those that Balund would festoon himself with. Obviously his old friend still lived, the cave was abandoned now, but Balund might return.
The cold of this winter is biting, and Danya's premonitions sent Ivan into the wilds, seeking aid. Knowing of no place else to go, he seeks Balund in the cave. When the shaman arrived he was accompanied by an orc, but one of seemingly decent intent. Perhaps this was the aid he sought. He told them Danya's tales and convinced them to return with him to help the people.
Now, more strangers have arrived in town. Southerners, unaccustomed to the winter, they stay in Danya's care. But perhaps they too will serve his purpose. All who can help will be needed.[/sblock]
Voadam
Legend
Thoma Griffith Orc Barbarian
Thoma Griffith
Male humanoid (Orc)
CN barbarian ape totem
Str 20
Dex 14
Con 16
Int 10
Wis 10
Cha 6
AC 16 (+2 Dex, +4) Touch 12, flatfooted 14
Hp 27
F +6, R +2, W +0
Init +2
BAB +2
Grapple +7
MV 30' climb 15'
Attack
Falchion +8(+10) 2d4+7(+10) 18-20 slashing or
Spiked Gauntlet +7(+9) 1d4+5(+7) piercing cold iron or
throwing axe +4 1d6+5 RI 10 ft. slashing
Feats: Extra Rage
Skills:
Climb +18
Intimidate +5
Survival +5
Swim +10
Languages: Orc, Common
Equipment - 900 gp total
Masterwork falchion 425 gp
Masterwork Chain shirt 250 gp
Cold Iron Spiked Gauntlet 10 gp
Throwing axe x5 40 gp
Cure light wounds potion x3 150 gp
Backpack, food, sundry wilderness gear ~ 15 gp
10 gp
Background
Glog was an independent minded orc warrior who did not like the direction of the tribe's cruel headman Bloodmar. He often took his throwing axes and went hunting just to get away from things. One day on one of his extended treks through the snow capped mountains he saw the signs of a smoke fire coming from one of the caves. When he investigated he found large runes traced in the snow, fetishes festooning the cave entrance, and a lone spike haired human sitting inside the cave staring into a fire. "The spirits said you'd come." He spoke in the tongue of mortal men. This intrigued Glog who came in amidst the heavy smells of burnt herbs. Glog chose not to attack but listened to what the man had to say.
"The spirits wait for you, as does your totem. I am Balund, I will be your guide should you choose to walk into the land of spirits. If you do your life will be forever altered. You will meet the spirit half of your soul and you will be born anew in the eyes of the spirits and of men. Or you can strike me down and walk out of this cave the same as you are now. If you choose to walk in the spirit world sit here and consume these herbs. I will send you there and call you back." The man then turned back to the fire muttering to himself as Glog stood over him.
Glog sat and picked up the dried mushroom caps before him. He stared at them a moment then tossed them into his tusked maw and began to chew as the shaman's mutters turned into a chant. The room became filled with heavier and heavier smoke until all was a misty gray. Soon he heard the cries of hunting birds, howling wolves, and bleating mountain goats. There was a shuffling noise within the mist and heavy breathing that grew louder and louder, from something big. Out of the mist a great white furred ape form rushed into view and charged Glog. Glog's soul responded and he charged the beast meeting its rush head long. The two grappled, both raging and storming, their blood pounding through their veins. Swarms of great beast forms flew around them, boars, dragonnes, massive owls, all calling out as they sailed over and around the pair. The grapplers' forms blurred and they crushed each other in enveloping bear hugs until they absorbed each other, becoming one.
The chanting of the shaman then was heard again calling, calling him back.
Glog opened his eyes and the shaman spoke, staring off to the Second World where the last of the spirits still gathered. "Awake to the mortal walking world. You are not the orc you were. You now are blessed by the spirits and share the gifts of your totem." Glog felt the insubstantial touch of a griffin wing as the last of the spirits circling him left. "The spirits name you Thoma Griffith." And it felt right.
Thoma now was possessed of the greater strength, rage, and fearsome aspect of his totem. He could climb the sheerest ice cliff with ease. Thoma left the tribe forever that day to journey with Balund.
Thoma Griffith
Male humanoid (Orc)
CN barbarian ape totem
Str 20
Dex 14
Con 16
Int 10
Wis 10
Cha 6
AC 16 (+2 Dex, +4) Touch 12, flatfooted 14
Hp 27
F +6, R +2, W +0
Init +2
BAB +2
Grapple +7
MV 30' climb 15'
Attack
Falchion +8(+10) 2d4+7(+10) 18-20 slashing or
Spiked Gauntlet +7(+9) 1d4+5(+7) piercing cold iron or
throwing axe +4 1d6+5 RI 10 ft. slashing
Feats: Extra Rage
Skills:
Climb +18
Intimidate +5
Survival +5
Swim +10
Languages: Orc, Common
Equipment - 900 gp total
Masterwork falchion 425 gp
Masterwork Chain shirt 250 gp
Cold Iron Spiked Gauntlet 10 gp
Throwing axe x5 40 gp
Cure light wounds potion x3 150 gp
Backpack, food, sundry wilderness gear ~ 15 gp
10 gp
Background
Glog was an independent minded orc warrior who did not like the direction of the tribe's cruel headman Bloodmar. He often took his throwing axes and went hunting just to get away from things. One day on one of his extended treks through the snow capped mountains he saw the signs of a smoke fire coming from one of the caves. When he investigated he found large runes traced in the snow, fetishes festooning the cave entrance, and a lone spike haired human sitting inside the cave staring into a fire. "The spirits said you'd come." He spoke in the tongue of mortal men. This intrigued Glog who came in amidst the heavy smells of burnt herbs. Glog chose not to attack but listened to what the man had to say.
"The spirits wait for you, as does your totem. I am Balund, I will be your guide should you choose to walk into the land of spirits. If you do your life will be forever altered. You will meet the spirit half of your soul and you will be born anew in the eyes of the spirits and of men. Or you can strike me down and walk out of this cave the same as you are now. If you choose to walk in the spirit world sit here and consume these herbs. I will send you there and call you back." The man then turned back to the fire muttering to himself as Glog stood over him.
Glog sat and picked up the dried mushroom caps before him. He stared at them a moment then tossed them into his tusked maw and began to chew as the shaman's mutters turned into a chant. The room became filled with heavier and heavier smoke until all was a misty gray. Soon he heard the cries of hunting birds, howling wolves, and bleating mountain goats. There was a shuffling noise within the mist and heavy breathing that grew louder and louder, from something big. Out of the mist a great white furred ape form rushed into view and charged Glog. Glog's soul responded and he charged the beast meeting its rush head long. The two grappled, both raging and storming, their blood pounding through their veins. Swarms of great beast forms flew around them, boars, dragonnes, massive owls, all calling out as they sailed over and around the pair. The grapplers' forms blurred and they crushed each other in enveloping bear hugs until they absorbed each other, becoming one.
The chanting of the shaman then was heard again calling, calling him back.
Glog opened his eyes and the shaman spoke, staring off to the Second World where the last of the spirits still gathered. "Awake to the mortal walking world. You are not the orc you were. You now are blessed by the spirits and share the gifts of your totem." Glog felt the insubstantial touch of a griffin wing as the last of the spirits circling him left. "The spirits name you Thoma Griffith." And it felt right.
Thoma now was possessed of the greater strength, rage, and fearsome aspect of his totem. He could climb the sheerest ice cliff with ease. Thoma left the tribe forever that day to journey with Balund.
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