Battle for the Four Islands Characters
- Thread starter GWolf
- Start date
Jarval
Explorer
Bokaru Kitsuki
Human Level 2 Samurai, Lawful Good
STR 14 (+2)
DEX 16 (+3)
CON 12 (+1)
INT 14 (+2)
WIS 10 (+0)
CHA 12 (+1)
Combat Stats:
Base Attack Bonus: +2
Melee: +4 [+2 BAB, +2 STR]
Ranged: +5 [+2 BAB, +3 DEX]
Hit Points: 22 [10 + 10 (levels) + 2 (CON)]
Armor Class: 17 [10 + 3 (DEX) + 4 (Partial Armor))]
Initiative: +7 [+3 DEX, +4 Improved Initiative]
Movement Rate: 20 feet (30 base, reduced to 20 by armor)
Attacks per round:
Katana (+6 to hit, 1d10+3 dmg)
or Wakizashi (+5 to hit, 1d6+2 dmg)
or Masterwork Mighty (+2) Composite Shortbow (+6 to hit, 1d6+2 dmg)
Weapons and Armor:
Armor: Masterwork Partial Armor (+4 AC, Armor penalty -2, 25% Spell Failure Chance)
Weapons: Katana (1d10 dmg, Crit 19-20/x2)
Wakizashi (1d6 dmg, Crit 19-20/x2)
Masterwork Mighty (+2) Composite Shortbow (1d6 dmg, Crit x3, Rng 70 ft)
Saving Throws:
Fort: +4 [+3 base, +1 CON]
Ref: +3 [+0 base, +3 DEX]
Will: +3 [+3 base, +0 WIS]
Feats:
Armor Proficiency (Light) (Free for Samurai)
Armor Proficiency (Medium) (Free for Samurai)
Simple Weapons Proficiency (Free for Samurai)
Martial Weapons Proficiency (Free for Samurai)
Quick Draw (1st level feat)
Improved Initiative (Bonus human feat)
Weapon Focus (Katana) (Bonus 2nd level feat)
Skills:
Climb +5 (5 ranks, +2 STR, -2 Armor)
Diplomacy +6 (5 ranks, +1 CHA)
Iaijutsu Focus +6 (5 ranks, +1 CHA)
Intimidate +6 (5 ranks, +1 CHA)
Ride +8 (5 ranks, +3 DEX)
Sense Motive +5 (5 ranks)
Swim -3 (5 ranks, +2 STR, -2 Armor, -8 Weight)
Languages:
Celestial, Common, Draconic.
Special Abilities:
Bonus feat at 1st level.
+1 Skill Point per level.
Favored Class: Any.
Equipment:
Backpack
- 50' Silk Rope
- Grappling Hook
- Whetstone
- 2 Potions of Cure Light Wounds
- 1083 gp, 9 sp, 8 cp
Wearing / Carrying
- Explorer's Clothes
- Materwork Partial Armor
- Katana
- Wakizashi
- Shortbow
- 20 arrows
Total Weight Carried: 56 lb
Load: Light
Current XP:
Current: 1,000
Next Level: 3,000
Born the son of a noble in the lands of the Empire to the east, Bokaru had grown up with the finest things in life. This included weapons training, as he followed his father's wishes by following the path of the samurai. The young Bokaru showed much skill in this path, including the art of Iaijutsu.
The Empire was dominated by two clans: The Kitsuki clan and the Anborakaro clan. These two been at peace for many decades, but this changed on the death of Imura Anborakaro, and the ascendance of his niece, Emiko, to head of the clan. She coveted the Kitsuki gold mines that lay just across the boarder from Anborako lands. She broke the age of peace, and led her troops across the border. While they gained some ground, there progress was quickly halted by the Kitsuki army. After several months of bitter fighting, the two clan chiefs decided to end the bloodshed. The two clans struck a peace deal, including one of the Kitsuki gold mines. Unbeknown to either side, the mine workings were close to exhausted. After only two months of work, the gold dried up. Emiko became convince she had been betrayed, not least due to the whisperings of the court wizard.
Emiko's feeling of betrayal grew into full-blooded dark hatred. She decided to make sure the Kitsui's could never fool her again. She had her wizard summon demons, devils, and beasts so evil that their very names corrupted those who heard them. In the darkness of a moonless night, the demonic assassins struck, smashing their way into the Kitsuki manor. They were met by the blades of both Bokaru and his father, who struck down a dozen of the hell spawn, with only the slightest of wounds. Hoping to save his family, Bokaru and his father quickly led his mother and young brother away from the now unsafe palace. However, Bokaru's father little knew the nature of the wound he now carried. The bile that had covered the creature's claws started to twist his body, and warp his mind. Even by the time they reached the lands of the Eagle clan, allies of the Kitsui's, his very soul was being tainted by evil.
Saku Eagle took in the family, naming them as part of his own family while they resided in his lands. All seemed well for the next few days, but then people started going missing around the Eagle palace. Fearing the Anborakaro demons, Saku had the palace put under heavy guard, and summoned his shugenja. They patrolled the palace by night, using their magical senses to search of any trace of evil. They found a strong trail to stables, where they found Bokaru's father, feasting on the body of a stable hand. The demon-man snarled as it spotted the shugenja. It sprang forwards, tearing the head off one of the young mages, and escaped the compound, fleeing into the night.
Bokaru left his family in the care of Saku Eagle, and came to the Adventure Academy to learn more of the western lands. He knew he would need allies to retake his homeland, and hoped his skills as a warrior would attract others to his cause. He also prayed that the westerner's magic might offer some hope of finding and curing his father, although he held out little hope on that count.
Shortly after his arrival, the Academy was destroyed during a pirate raid. He helped with the defence of the Academy, but was forced to evacuate along with a few other students. Distraught, he returned to his homeland, only to find it changed. Sine Tzuh, a clan-chief, had seized the Emperor's throne, and was leading the Gisen Empire to war with the other islands. Bokaru has joined his army, hoping to gain enough influence to expose Emiko Anborakaro for the devil worshiper that she is...
Bokaru was sent as part of a small expedition to the Artic Isle. The expedition hoped to find coal and gold, both rumoured to be in great store on this cold island, but met only with disaster. Their ship was wrecked by a violent storm, and the few survivors who made it to the shore were quickly picked off by the creatures that inhabit the isle. Only Bokaru has survived, his blade saving him from many fell beasts. He's weak, close to death, but still quick and determined to live.
Human Level 2 Samurai, Lawful Good
STR 14 (+2)
DEX 16 (+3)
CON 12 (+1)
INT 14 (+2)
WIS 10 (+0)
CHA 12 (+1)
Combat Stats:
Base Attack Bonus: +2
Melee: +4 [+2 BAB, +2 STR]
Ranged: +5 [+2 BAB, +3 DEX]
Hit Points: 22 [10 + 10 (levels) + 2 (CON)]
Armor Class: 17 [10 + 3 (DEX) + 4 (Partial Armor))]
Initiative: +7 [+3 DEX, +4 Improved Initiative]
Movement Rate: 20 feet (30 base, reduced to 20 by armor)
Attacks per round:
Katana (+6 to hit, 1d10+3 dmg)
or Wakizashi (+5 to hit, 1d6+2 dmg)
or Masterwork Mighty (+2) Composite Shortbow (+6 to hit, 1d6+2 dmg)
Weapons and Armor:
Armor: Masterwork Partial Armor (+4 AC, Armor penalty -2, 25% Spell Failure Chance)
Weapons: Katana (1d10 dmg, Crit 19-20/x2)
Wakizashi (1d6 dmg, Crit 19-20/x2)
Masterwork Mighty (+2) Composite Shortbow (1d6 dmg, Crit x3, Rng 70 ft)
Saving Throws:
Fort: +4 [+3 base, +1 CON]
Ref: +3 [+0 base, +3 DEX]
Will: +3 [+3 base, +0 WIS]
Feats:
Armor Proficiency (Light) (Free for Samurai)
Armor Proficiency (Medium) (Free for Samurai)
Simple Weapons Proficiency (Free for Samurai)
Martial Weapons Proficiency (Free for Samurai)
Quick Draw (1st level feat)
Improved Initiative (Bonus human feat)
Weapon Focus (Katana) (Bonus 2nd level feat)
Skills:
Climb +5 (5 ranks, +2 STR, -2 Armor)
Diplomacy +6 (5 ranks, +1 CHA)
Iaijutsu Focus +6 (5 ranks, +1 CHA)
Intimidate +6 (5 ranks, +1 CHA)
Ride +8 (5 ranks, +3 DEX)
Sense Motive +5 (5 ranks)
Swim -3 (5 ranks, +2 STR, -2 Armor, -8 Weight)
Languages:
Celestial, Common, Draconic.
Special Abilities:
Bonus feat at 1st level.
+1 Skill Point per level.
Favored Class: Any.
Equipment:
Backpack
- 50' Silk Rope
- Grappling Hook
- Whetstone
- 2 Potions of Cure Light Wounds
- 1083 gp, 9 sp, 8 cp
Wearing / Carrying
- Explorer's Clothes
- Materwork Partial Armor
- Katana
- Wakizashi
- Shortbow
- 20 arrows
Total Weight Carried: 56 lb
Load: Light
Current XP:
Current: 1,000
Next Level: 3,000
Born the son of a noble in the lands of the Empire to the east, Bokaru had grown up with the finest things in life. This included weapons training, as he followed his father's wishes by following the path of the samurai. The young Bokaru showed much skill in this path, including the art of Iaijutsu.
The Empire was dominated by two clans: The Kitsuki clan and the Anborakaro clan. These two been at peace for many decades, but this changed on the death of Imura Anborakaro, and the ascendance of his niece, Emiko, to head of the clan. She coveted the Kitsuki gold mines that lay just across the boarder from Anborako lands. She broke the age of peace, and led her troops across the border. While they gained some ground, there progress was quickly halted by the Kitsuki army. After several months of bitter fighting, the two clan chiefs decided to end the bloodshed. The two clans struck a peace deal, including one of the Kitsuki gold mines. Unbeknown to either side, the mine workings were close to exhausted. After only two months of work, the gold dried up. Emiko became convince she had been betrayed, not least due to the whisperings of the court wizard.
Emiko's feeling of betrayal grew into full-blooded dark hatred. She decided to make sure the Kitsui's could never fool her again. She had her wizard summon demons, devils, and beasts so evil that their very names corrupted those who heard them. In the darkness of a moonless night, the demonic assassins struck, smashing their way into the Kitsuki manor. They were met by the blades of both Bokaru and his father, who struck down a dozen of the hell spawn, with only the slightest of wounds. Hoping to save his family, Bokaru and his father quickly led his mother and young brother away from the now unsafe palace. However, Bokaru's father little knew the nature of the wound he now carried. The bile that had covered the creature's claws started to twist his body, and warp his mind. Even by the time they reached the lands of the Eagle clan, allies of the Kitsui's, his very soul was being tainted by evil.
Saku Eagle took in the family, naming them as part of his own family while they resided in his lands. All seemed well for the next few days, but then people started going missing around the Eagle palace. Fearing the Anborakaro demons, Saku had the palace put under heavy guard, and summoned his shugenja. They patrolled the palace by night, using their magical senses to search of any trace of evil. They found a strong trail to stables, where they found Bokaru's father, feasting on the body of a stable hand. The demon-man snarled as it spotted the shugenja. It sprang forwards, tearing the head off one of the young mages, and escaped the compound, fleeing into the night.
Bokaru left his family in the care of Saku Eagle, and came to the Adventure Academy to learn more of the western lands. He knew he would need allies to retake his homeland, and hoped his skills as a warrior would attract others to his cause. He also prayed that the westerner's magic might offer some hope of finding and curing his father, although he held out little hope on that count.
Shortly after his arrival, the Academy was destroyed during a pirate raid. He helped with the defence of the Academy, but was forced to evacuate along with a few other students. Distraught, he returned to his homeland, only to find it changed. Sine Tzuh, a clan-chief, had seized the Emperor's throne, and was leading the Gisen Empire to war with the other islands. Bokaru has joined his army, hoping to gain enough influence to expose Emiko Anborakaro for the devil worshiper that she is...
Bokaru was sent as part of a small expedition to the Artic Isle. The expedition hoped to find coal and gold, both rumoured to be in great store on this cold island, but met only with disaster. Their ship was wrecked by a violent storm, and the few survivors who made it to the shore were quickly picked off by the creatures that inhabit the isle. Only Bokaru has survived, his blade saving him from many fell beasts. He's weak, close to death, but still quick and determined to live.
Last edited:
Zhure
First Post
Jofre Hasheen
Jofre Hasheen (NG)
Race: Human
6'0"; 175 lbs; Age 17
Psychic Warrior 2
13 STR +1
12 DEX +1
15 CON +2
16 INT +3
10 WIS +0
10 CHA +0
Armor Class 17 (=10 +1 Dex +6 armor)
Initiative: +1 Dex
Saves:
Fortitude: +5 = (+3, +2 Con)
Reflex +1 = (+0, +1 Dex)
Will +0 = (+0, +0 Wis)
Encumbrance: 50/100/150
Proficiencies:
Armor: Light, Medium, Heavy
Weapons: All Simple, All Martial
Languages: Common, Zugain, Gisen, Trisil
Skills 30 :
+3 Autohypnosis (1 rank, +2 Con)
+7 Balance (5 ranks, +1 Dex, -1 armor, +2 Tumble synergy)
+5 Climb (5 ranks, +1 Str, -1 armor)
+3 Concentration (1 rank, +2 Con)
+7 Jump (5 ranks, +1 Str. -1 armor, +2 Tumble synergy)
+3 Stabilize Self (1 ranks, +2 Con)
-13 Swim (2 ranks, +1 Str, -16 weight)
+7 Tumble (5 ranks, +1 Dex. -1 armor, +2 Jump synergy)
+5 Use Psionic Device (5 ranks, +0 Cha)
Feats:
Human - Power Attack
1st level - Cleave
Psychic Warrior Bonus 1st - Expertise
Psychic Warrior Bonus 2nd - Weapon Focus (Falchion)
HIT POINTS: 16+4 (Con) = 20
POWER POINTS: 3
Powers:
0th level: Valor (Con, Au), Float (Dex, Au), Bolt (Dex, Au)
Audible: kiai
Psionic Modes:
Thought Shield, Mind Thrust
Equipment:
Weapons & Armor (BAB = +1):
(0 gp) +1 (?) Crystal Falchion +5 to hit (+1 BAB, +1 Str, +1 enhancement, +1 Weapon Focus), 2d4+2 dmg, 18-20/x2, (16 pounds)
(225 gp) Mighty Composite Shortbow (STR +2), +2 to hit (+1 BAB, +1 Dex), 1d6+1 dmg (Jofre is only STR 13), 20/x3, (2 pounds)
(650gp) MW Chain Shirt, MW 4-mirror armor, MW dastana (+6 AC; +4 Max Dex, -1 check, 30% ASF; 40 pounds)
BackQuiver
-- (1 gp) arrows: 20 (3 lb)
(2 gp) Backpack: (2 lb)
-- (1 gp) waterskin (4 lb)
-- (1 sp) bedroll (5 lb)
-- (2 gp) trail rations: 8 days (4 lb)
(1 gp) Beltpouch (1 lb)
(750 gp) Dorje of Lesser Body Adjustment: 50 charges (1 lb)
-- (1 cp) whetstone (1 lb)
--(1 gp) flint & steel (0 lb)
(90 gp) Everburning torch (on closeable brooch, 0 lb)
(200 gp) Boots of Burst (1 lb)
Total Weight: 80 pounds
Platinum: 0
Gold: 1
Silver: 8
Copper: 9
Experience:
Goal: 3,000
Current: 1,000
The dusty traveler enters the tavern, removes his cloak, shaking off a cloud in the doorway. The setting sun's rays cut across his silhouette, highlighting him in a nimbus of gold, accented by the motes coming off of his cloak. Throwing the battered, once-white cloak across his forearm, he strides to the bar in a measured step.
His face looks weary but his smooth tread and erect carriage belies any exhaustion he may feel; he walks as if he were a character in a play depicting a man with too much pride and nobility. The stranger's apparel, on the other hand, is anything but proud: faded cloak, simple tunic and trews of brown and grey; his shoes are rude leather pouches with draw strings holding them on. Even though every sword in the tavern, including the man's long hooked blade is draped with a peace tie, its clear the man is willing to defend himself. His darkened features and burnoose turban mark him as a member of one of the wandering tribes of the southern edge of the hot islands of Zuga.
The tavern is quiet, well before the evening crowd is due to trickle in and the only patrons are a gaudily dressed dandy at the bar and a quartet of rough-and-tumble rowdies, clad in leather jerkins. They carry the look of bully boys for the local Thieves Guild and probably are wearing a few weapons not tied in a peace bond. The four men are engrossed in a game of po'kirr, the tiles clack together without a word being exchanged. The other patron, a lute strung across his back, sits humming a tune, keeping time with his hands against the counter.
"Wine please, bartender," the stranger says, tossing his cloak across a barstool while sitting on the one adjacent to it. The bartender sets a leather jack on the counter, collects a handful of mismatched copper coins. There's a brief pause while the bartender looks at the odd assortment of coins, then he shrugs and heads back to clean the counter again.
"Greetings, stranger and well met," the dandy approaches, a hand extended from his slash-and-puff sleeves. When the newcomer fails to react, the hand is withdrawn. "My name," the man continues without apparent offense, "is Skeeve, a famous troubadour from the far south and am here to make my name equally famous in 'round here."
There's a long pause, as if the stranger's voice is stunted from misuse, "Best of luck in your endeavor, Skeeve," and he turns back to nursing his jack of wine.
"Let me strike a bargain, master traveler," Skeeve says. "I'll tell you a tale (since the rules of the tavern forbid me from singing) and if you're not convinced I am a great storyteller, I'll refill your cup. If you are convinced, you'll fill my now-empty cup."
The traveler looks up from his drink, staring deeply into the eyes of Skeeve. A hint of a grin plays about the edge of the his mouth, "Agreed, Skeeve."
Skeeve raises his voice to a more oratory level: "A score of years ago, even farther south than here in Zuga, a free-wheeling pasha held a celebration, commemorating the twelfth birthday of his only male hild. Until then, only daughters had graced the pasha's family line and we was sorely worried about losing his hold on the tribe (for the southerner's hold a preternatural amount of power resides within a man's abilities to have male children). The celebration lasted for almost a week and the boy was declared a man at the end of that time, having been alive for a dozen years.
"The time had come to determine the fate of the now-adult child, and the pasha, reclining on a bend of silk cushions, sent for his general. 'Train him and make him a great warrior,' to which the general agreed, saying he would train the boy with his finest soldiers and make of him a warrior to be feared throughout the entire world.
"A month and a day later, the general was summoned back before the pasha 'Tell me,' the pasha said, 'how fares my only son?' The general knelt down in front of the pasha. 'He is a magnificent warrior, my chief,' the general swore, 'more capable than any other fighter ever I have beheld.' Before he could continue the pasha leapt from his cushions, brandishing a great curved sword and lopped of the general's head.
"The stunned members of the court were silent. 'Let this be a lesson to all: I saw my son practicing with the other warriors and noted how they held back. While he is still my son, never will he be a great warrior.
"From the shadowed recesses of the back of the tent, a robed wizard stepped forward. 'My chief, let me train the lad as a magus, for, if he cannot be a great warrior, wizards hold the respect of the people almost as well as a warrior would and hold their fear even more so. I can make him a great sorceror.'
"The pasha agreed, and summoned the wizard back before him in two months and two days. 'How fares my beloved son? The wizard, mindful of the demise of the general, knelt some distance from the pasha. 'He is poor as a mage, my liege, but we shall continue to train him until he becomes one.'
"The pasha looks thoughtful, then gestures with his hands, sending a ball of fire to consume the wizard. As the smoldering corpse of the once-powerful sorceror slowly teetered over the pasha turned to the silent crowd of his court. 'While I appreciate his honesty, the wizard failed to keep his promise to me and thus he had to die. Is there no one who can make my son into a powerful man,' he cried out.
"From the assembled crowd a man walked forward, one of the dervishes of the desert, the crazy holy men who follow an ascetic path to enlightenment. 'We will train your son, pasha, but we make no promise as to how he will do.' The crowd (and to be honest, the pasha as well) were astonished, as the holy men never volunteered to accept a candidate without putting him through grueling tests.
"The pasha agreed, and, in three months and three days he called the chief of the dervishes back to his tent. 'How fares my son in his learnings?' asked the pasha. The old man of the desert, from across the tent, knelt down and said, 'My pasha, he has learned most of what we could teach him and he is the most apt pupil I have seen in my lifetime; one day he will become the head of our order if he chooses this path.'
"The pasha smiled at the man, 'No, my son will be the pasha when I have passed on, as I followed my father before me.' 'With all respect,' the dervish replied, 'Your son's path is now his to choose, for that is the way of the dervish, and he has chosen to remain free of the obligations and burdens of both rulership and his lineage.'
"At this the pasha was so incensed he could not speak, but reached back behind his throne of cushions and pulled forth a great curved horn bow and let fly a black shafted arrow at the old dervish. The old man deftly avoided the arrow and ran from the tent back into the desert. His last words as he headed out were: 'For the sins of pride and unjustness, the gods have seen fit to turn your own son away from you.'
"The pasha's men scoured the desert but were unable to find the dervishes. The pasha's son, in hopes of drawing the pursuit away from his spiritual brethren, left Zuga and has wandered the wide face of the world. In the meantime, the pasha has tried to have more children, but he has sired none since then. There is talk among the southern people that he has lost the will to sire them since the loss of his only son, but others claim it is a further penalty assessed by the gods. Whatever the case, the pasha has had no more children since then.
"To this day, the son is pursued by the warriors of his father who wish to bring him home where he can continue the family line, even if they cannot make him rule, they feel they can make him sire children, so the pasha can have grandchildren of direct male descent to assume his throne. The enemies of the pasha also hunt the son, for they know they can deal a great blow to the pasha by killing off his estranged son."
The bard pauses in his recitation, and the stranger leans forward, offering his untouched jack of wine to the storyteller. "Masterfully done, Skeeve," the stranger says, "while it may not have been the best is was adequate and you deserve a drink."
"But, sir!" the bard cries, "Don't you want to know how the story ends?"
The stranger throws his cloak over his shoulder and heads for the door. "I already know how it ends, Skeeve-- it doesn't end, not ever."
The man leaves the tavern, the bard drains the wineskin and notices the po'kirr table is empty, the tiles have been silent since shortly after he started the story. Racing outside, Skeeve trips over the unconscious forms of the four men who had been gambling inside the tavern earlier. Their weapons are all out but unblooded. Seeing nobody around, Skeeve quickly empties the men's purses. "My thanks, noble Hasheen," the minstrel mutters under his breath and he heads back into the tavern to have his first full meal in weeks.
* * * * * *
Jofre has traveled far in the five years since he left his father's lands. He has been to most of the various island groups, usually to be found once again by an agent from Zuga. Recently Jofre has tried to remain inconspicuous and he took an extended journey to the arctic lands, hired on as a guard to protect an archeological expedition. Once there, Jofre was once again spotted by bounty hunters from Zuga. He managed to slip away from his pursuers, but he is now stranded in the frozen arctic.
-edit- carrying crystal falchion as well, assuming it's at least a masterwork weapon.
At inn: (375 gp) MW Falchion +4 to hit (+1 BAB, +1 Str, +1 MW, +1 Weapon Focus), 2d4+1 dmg, 18-20/x2, (16 pounds)
Jofre Hasheen (NG)
Race: Human
6'0"; 175 lbs; Age 17
Psychic Warrior 2
13 STR +1
12 DEX +1
15 CON +2
16 INT +3
10 WIS +0
10 CHA +0
Armor Class 17 (=10 +1 Dex +6 armor)
Initiative: +1 Dex
Saves:
Fortitude: +5 = (+3, +2 Con)
Reflex +1 = (+0, +1 Dex)
Will +0 = (+0, +0 Wis)
Encumbrance: 50/100/150
Proficiencies:
Armor: Light, Medium, Heavy
Weapons: All Simple, All Martial
Languages: Common, Zugain, Gisen, Trisil
Skills 30 :
+3 Autohypnosis (1 rank, +2 Con)
+7 Balance (5 ranks, +1 Dex, -1 armor, +2 Tumble synergy)
+5 Climb (5 ranks, +1 Str, -1 armor)
+3 Concentration (1 rank, +2 Con)
+7 Jump (5 ranks, +1 Str. -1 armor, +2 Tumble synergy)
+3 Stabilize Self (1 ranks, +2 Con)
-13 Swim (2 ranks, +1 Str, -16 weight)
+7 Tumble (5 ranks, +1 Dex. -1 armor, +2 Jump synergy)
+5 Use Psionic Device (5 ranks, +0 Cha)
Feats:
Human - Power Attack
1st level - Cleave
Psychic Warrior Bonus 1st - Expertise
Psychic Warrior Bonus 2nd - Weapon Focus (Falchion)
HIT POINTS: 16+4 (Con) = 20
POWER POINTS: 3
Powers:
0th level: Valor (Con, Au), Float (Dex, Au), Bolt (Dex, Au)
Audible: kiai
Psionic Modes:
Thought Shield, Mind Thrust
Equipment:
Weapons & Armor (BAB = +1):
(0 gp) +1 (?) Crystal Falchion +5 to hit (+1 BAB, +1 Str, +1 enhancement, +1 Weapon Focus), 2d4+2 dmg, 18-20/x2, (16 pounds)
(225 gp) Mighty Composite Shortbow (STR +2), +2 to hit (+1 BAB, +1 Dex), 1d6+1 dmg (Jofre is only STR 13), 20/x3, (2 pounds)
(650gp) MW Chain Shirt, MW 4-mirror armor, MW dastana (+6 AC; +4 Max Dex, -1 check, 30% ASF; 40 pounds)
BackQuiver
-- (1 gp) arrows: 20 (3 lb)
(2 gp) Backpack: (2 lb)
-- (1 gp) waterskin (4 lb)
-- (1 sp) bedroll (5 lb)
-- (2 gp) trail rations: 8 days (4 lb)
(1 gp) Beltpouch (1 lb)
(750 gp) Dorje of Lesser Body Adjustment: 50 charges (1 lb)
-- (1 cp) whetstone (1 lb)
--(1 gp) flint & steel (0 lb)
(90 gp) Everburning torch (on closeable brooch, 0 lb)
(200 gp) Boots of Burst (1 lb)
Total Weight: 80 pounds
Platinum: 0
Gold: 1
Silver: 8
Copper: 9
Experience:
Goal: 3,000
Current: 1,000
The dusty traveler enters the tavern, removes his cloak, shaking off a cloud in the doorway. The setting sun's rays cut across his silhouette, highlighting him in a nimbus of gold, accented by the motes coming off of his cloak. Throwing the battered, once-white cloak across his forearm, he strides to the bar in a measured step.
His face looks weary but his smooth tread and erect carriage belies any exhaustion he may feel; he walks as if he were a character in a play depicting a man with too much pride and nobility. The stranger's apparel, on the other hand, is anything but proud: faded cloak, simple tunic and trews of brown and grey; his shoes are rude leather pouches with draw strings holding them on. Even though every sword in the tavern, including the man's long hooked blade is draped with a peace tie, its clear the man is willing to defend himself. His darkened features and burnoose turban mark him as a member of one of the wandering tribes of the southern edge of the hot islands of Zuga.
The tavern is quiet, well before the evening crowd is due to trickle in and the only patrons are a gaudily dressed dandy at the bar and a quartet of rough-and-tumble rowdies, clad in leather jerkins. They carry the look of bully boys for the local Thieves Guild and probably are wearing a few weapons not tied in a peace bond. The four men are engrossed in a game of po'kirr, the tiles clack together without a word being exchanged. The other patron, a lute strung across his back, sits humming a tune, keeping time with his hands against the counter.
"Wine please, bartender," the stranger says, tossing his cloak across a barstool while sitting on the one adjacent to it. The bartender sets a leather jack on the counter, collects a handful of mismatched copper coins. There's a brief pause while the bartender looks at the odd assortment of coins, then he shrugs and heads back to clean the counter again.
"Greetings, stranger and well met," the dandy approaches, a hand extended from his slash-and-puff sleeves. When the newcomer fails to react, the hand is withdrawn. "My name," the man continues without apparent offense, "is Skeeve, a famous troubadour from the far south and am here to make my name equally famous in 'round here."
There's a long pause, as if the stranger's voice is stunted from misuse, "Best of luck in your endeavor, Skeeve," and he turns back to nursing his jack of wine.
"Let me strike a bargain, master traveler," Skeeve says. "I'll tell you a tale (since the rules of the tavern forbid me from singing) and if you're not convinced I am a great storyteller, I'll refill your cup. If you are convinced, you'll fill my now-empty cup."
The traveler looks up from his drink, staring deeply into the eyes of Skeeve. A hint of a grin plays about the edge of the his mouth, "Agreed, Skeeve."
Skeeve raises his voice to a more oratory level: "A score of years ago, even farther south than here in Zuga, a free-wheeling pasha held a celebration, commemorating the twelfth birthday of his only male hild. Until then, only daughters had graced the pasha's family line and we was sorely worried about losing his hold on the tribe (for the southerner's hold a preternatural amount of power resides within a man's abilities to have male children). The celebration lasted for almost a week and the boy was declared a man at the end of that time, having been alive for a dozen years.
"The time had come to determine the fate of the now-adult child, and the pasha, reclining on a bend of silk cushions, sent for his general. 'Train him and make him a great warrior,' to which the general agreed, saying he would train the boy with his finest soldiers and make of him a warrior to be feared throughout the entire world.
"A month and a day later, the general was summoned back before the pasha 'Tell me,' the pasha said, 'how fares my only son?' The general knelt down in front of the pasha. 'He is a magnificent warrior, my chief,' the general swore, 'more capable than any other fighter ever I have beheld.' Before he could continue the pasha leapt from his cushions, brandishing a great curved sword and lopped of the general's head.
"The stunned members of the court were silent. 'Let this be a lesson to all: I saw my son practicing with the other warriors and noted how they held back. While he is still my son, never will he be a great warrior.
"From the shadowed recesses of the back of the tent, a robed wizard stepped forward. 'My chief, let me train the lad as a magus, for, if he cannot be a great warrior, wizards hold the respect of the people almost as well as a warrior would and hold their fear even more so. I can make him a great sorceror.'
"The pasha agreed, and summoned the wizard back before him in two months and two days. 'How fares my beloved son? The wizard, mindful of the demise of the general, knelt some distance from the pasha. 'He is poor as a mage, my liege, but we shall continue to train him until he becomes one.'
"The pasha looks thoughtful, then gestures with his hands, sending a ball of fire to consume the wizard. As the smoldering corpse of the once-powerful sorceror slowly teetered over the pasha turned to the silent crowd of his court. 'While I appreciate his honesty, the wizard failed to keep his promise to me and thus he had to die. Is there no one who can make my son into a powerful man,' he cried out.
"From the assembled crowd a man walked forward, one of the dervishes of the desert, the crazy holy men who follow an ascetic path to enlightenment. 'We will train your son, pasha, but we make no promise as to how he will do.' The crowd (and to be honest, the pasha as well) were astonished, as the holy men never volunteered to accept a candidate without putting him through grueling tests.
"The pasha agreed, and, in three months and three days he called the chief of the dervishes back to his tent. 'How fares my son in his learnings?' asked the pasha. The old man of the desert, from across the tent, knelt down and said, 'My pasha, he has learned most of what we could teach him and he is the most apt pupil I have seen in my lifetime; one day he will become the head of our order if he chooses this path.'
"The pasha smiled at the man, 'No, my son will be the pasha when I have passed on, as I followed my father before me.' 'With all respect,' the dervish replied, 'Your son's path is now his to choose, for that is the way of the dervish, and he has chosen to remain free of the obligations and burdens of both rulership and his lineage.'
"At this the pasha was so incensed he could not speak, but reached back behind his throne of cushions and pulled forth a great curved horn bow and let fly a black shafted arrow at the old dervish. The old man deftly avoided the arrow and ran from the tent back into the desert. His last words as he headed out were: 'For the sins of pride and unjustness, the gods have seen fit to turn your own son away from you.'
"The pasha's men scoured the desert but were unable to find the dervishes. The pasha's son, in hopes of drawing the pursuit away from his spiritual brethren, left Zuga and has wandered the wide face of the world. In the meantime, the pasha has tried to have more children, but he has sired none since then. There is talk among the southern people that he has lost the will to sire them since the loss of his only son, but others claim it is a further penalty assessed by the gods. Whatever the case, the pasha has had no more children since then.
"To this day, the son is pursued by the warriors of his father who wish to bring him home where he can continue the family line, even if they cannot make him rule, they feel they can make him sire children, so the pasha can have grandchildren of direct male descent to assume his throne. The enemies of the pasha also hunt the son, for they know they can deal a great blow to the pasha by killing off his estranged son."
The bard pauses in his recitation, and the stranger leans forward, offering his untouched jack of wine to the storyteller. "Masterfully done, Skeeve," the stranger says, "while it may not have been the best is was adequate and you deserve a drink."
"But, sir!" the bard cries, "Don't you want to know how the story ends?"
The stranger throws his cloak over his shoulder and heads for the door. "I already know how it ends, Skeeve-- it doesn't end, not ever."
The man leaves the tavern, the bard drains the wineskin and notices the po'kirr table is empty, the tiles have been silent since shortly after he started the story. Racing outside, Skeeve trips over the unconscious forms of the four men who had been gambling inside the tavern earlier. Their weapons are all out but unblooded. Seeing nobody around, Skeeve quickly empties the men's purses. "My thanks, noble Hasheen," the minstrel mutters under his breath and he heads back into the tavern to have his first full meal in weeks.
* * * * * *
Jofre has traveled far in the five years since he left his father's lands. He has been to most of the various island groups, usually to be found once again by an agent from Zuga. Recently Jofre has tried to remain inconspicuous and he took an extended journey to the arctic lands, hired on as a guard to protect an archeological expedition. Once there, Jofre was once again spotted by bounty hunters from Zuga. He managed to slip away from his pursuers, but he is now stranded in the frozen arctic.
-edit- carrying crystal falchion as well, assuming it's at least a masterwork weapon.
At inn: (375 gp) MW Falchion +4 to hit (+1 BAB, +1 Str, +1 MW, +1 Weapon Focus), 2d4+1 dmg, 18-20/x2, (16 pounds)
Last edited:
buzzard
First Post
Marcus Perblentious
Lvl 2 Alchemist
Lawful Nuetral
Str 10
Dex 14
Con 8
Int 18
Wis 11
Chr 12
AC 16
HP 6
Saves:
-1 Fort
+2 Reflex
+2 Will
BAB +1
Heavy Crossbow: +3 (+4 within 30'), 1d8 19-20 x2
quarterstaff +1, 1d6 20 x2
Feats: Point blank shot, skill focus (Alchemy)
Skills: Alchemy 11(5), Craft glassblowing 6(2) , Diplomacy 4(3), Decipher Script 7 (3) , Disable Device 7 (3), Gather Information 4 (3), Heal 2, Knowledge (Geography) 9(5), Knowledge (Chemistry) 9(5), Knowledge (Trism Islands) 9(5), Profession (Apothecary) 5, Appraise 6 (2), Handle Animal 2(1), Search 9(5), Spot 5
Languages: common, Gisen, Reloneion, Zugain, Trisil
Possesions: Alchemist Lab (1st level), Masterwork light crossbow, 50 quarrels, chain shirt, 2 riding dogs, 50' silk rope, bandoleer, belt of pouches, backpack, quarterstaff, 10 pitons. alchemist's tome, bedroll, heavy blanket, tent, winter clothes,4 waterskins, 2 weeks rations (for self and dogs), lantern, 4 flask of alchemist's fire.
91 GP
Elixirs:
0 level: Hold portal x2
light x2
resistance x2
cure minor wounds x3
daze
purify food and drink x3
Level 1:Alarm x2
Cause Fear x2
Change Self
Charm Person
Cure light wounds x4
Endure Elements
Expeditious Retreat x2
Grease x2
Jump
Mage Armor
Obscuring Mist
Shield
Sleep x2
Spider Climb
Tome:
0: All
1st: Cause Fear, change self, cure light wounds, Mage Armor, sleep, shield, grease, charm person.
Marcus is the third son of an equestrian from the island of Trism. His family is very wealthy, and he has been provided with an exquisite education, and every luxury of the age. Given his lot in the succession, it was essentially guaranteed that he would have no aristocratic duties, and thus was encouraged to concentrate on his studies. Given the generally poor state of his health through his youth, he could not take up an honorable trade in the military, so a scholar was his lot without any choice of his own. He did learn the details of etiquette, and the details of politics, but that was a matter of having a tutor teach all three sons at once, rather than any focus.
A wise tutor, Heraclitus, who once had been an adventuring alchemist, taught Marcus of the wonders of science and alchemy. He also related many of the marvelous things which he had seen in his travels. One regret was always expressed by the old man- that he never found the Philosopher's Stone. This was a mighty artifact which could change one substance into another.
Marcus, owing to the frailty which kept him indoors, suffered for friends. He was attached to Heraclitus, but this did not substitute for playmates. To solve this his parents also provided him with pets. He developed a great fondness for dogs.
As his studies progressed, he mastered much of what was taught by Heraclitus, and became an alchemist in his own right. This was well received by his parents, who had worried over the future of their frail child.
On attaining his majority, two major changes came in his life. Heraclitus died, of old age, and Marcus announced that he would honor his mentor by finding that which Heraclitus had always sought. He would find the Philosopher's Stone.
This dismayed his parents greatly who doted on their brilliant youngest child. They attempted to cajole him into staying home. However he was adamant. He would do this with, or without their blessing. They acquiesced to his wishes and endowed his expedition with a trust. They did have one comfort- his lab was at their home, and he needed to periodically return to continue his work.
Off Marcus went on his explorations. He has travelled over the breath of his own isle, but found little hints towards his goal. The best he had found was a lead that pointed to the arctic island. Thus he set out for there with his trusty guard dogs, Castor and Pollux. He hired a merchant captain to take him there, but the man was of a rather dubious sort. Marcus was taken to the agreed upon site, and ferried ashore with his dogs and supplies. The boat was to remain offshore, for Marcus had paid the man generously for his time. However the unscrupulous captain decided that the money was in his pocket, and when the fool died on the dangerous shore, there would no one to tell the tale. Thus Marcus found himself stranded on a frozen with only his dogs for companions, and only his alchemical wonders with which to protect himself.
buzzard
Lvl 2 Alchemist
Lawful Nuetral
Str 10
Dex 14
Con 8
Int 18
Wis 11
Chr 12
AC 16
HP 6
Saves:
-1 Fort
+2 Reflex
+2 Will
BAB +1
Heavy Crossbow: +3 (+4 within 30'), 1d8 19-20 x2
quarterstaff +1, 1d6 20 x2
Feats: Point blank shot, skill focus (Alchemy)
Skills: Alchemy 11(5), Craft glassblowing 6(2) , Diplomacy 4(3), Decipher Script 7 (3) , Disable Device 7 (3), Gather Information 4 (3), Heal 2, Knowledge (Geography) 9(5), Knowledge (Chemistry) 9(5), Knowledge (Trism Islands) 9(5), Profession (Apothecary) 5, Appraise 6 (2), Handle Animal 2(1), Search 9(5), Spot 5
Languages: common, Gisen, Reloneion, Zugain, Trisil
Possesions: Alchemist Lab (1st level), Masterwork light crossbow, 50 quarrels, chain shirt, 2 riding dogs, 50' silk rope, bandoleer, belt of pouches, backpack, quarterstaff, 10 pitons. alchemist's tome, bedroll, heavy blanket, tent, winter clothes,4 waterskins, 2 weeks rations (for self and dogs), lantern, 4 flask of alchemist's fire.
91 GP
Elixirs:
0 level: Hold portal x2
light x2
resistance x2
cure minor wounds x3
daze
purify food and drink x3
Level 1:Alarm x2
Cause Fear x2
Change Self
Charm Person
Cure light wounds x4
Endure Elements
Expeditious Retreat x2
Grease x2
Jump
Mage Armor
Obscuring Mist
Shield
Sleep x2
Spider Climb
Tome:
0: All
1st: Cause Fear, change self, cure light wounds, Mage Armor, sleep, shield, grease, charm person.
Marcus is the third son of an equestrian from the island of Trism. His family is very wealthy, and he has been provided with an exquisite education, and every luxury of the age. Given his lot in the succession, it was essentially guaranteed that he would have no aristocratic duties, and thus was encouraged to concentrate on his studies. Given the generally poor state of his health through his youth, he could not take up an honorable trade in the military, so a scholar was his lot without any choice of his own. He did learn the details of etiquette, and the details of politics, but that was a matter of having a tutor teach all three sons at once, rather than any focus.
A wise tutor, Heraclitus, who once had been an adventuring alchemist, taught Marcus of the wonders of science and alchemy. He also related many of the marvelous things which he had seen in his travels. One regret was always expressed by the old man- that he never found the Philosopher's Stone. This was a mighty artifact which could change one substance into another.
Marcus, owing to the frailty which kept him indoors, suffered for friends. He was attached to Heraclitus, but this did not substitute for playmates. To solve this his parents also provided him with pets. He developed a great fondness for dogs.
As his studies progressed, he mastered much of what was taught by Heraclitus, and became an alchemist in his own right. This was well received by his parents, who had worried over the future of their frail child.
On attaining his majority, two major changes came in his life. Heraclitus died, of old age, and Marcus announced that he would honor his mentor by finding that which Heraclitus had always sought. He would find the Philosopher's Stone.
This dismayed his parents greatly who doted on their brilliant youngest child. They attempted to cajole him into staying home. However he was adamant. He would do this with, or without their blessing. They acquiesced to his wishes and endowed his expedition with a trust. They did have one comfort- his lab was at their home, and he needed to periodically return to continue his work.
Off Marcus went on his explorations. He has travelled over the breath of his own isle, but found little hints towards his goal. The best he had found was a lead that pointed to the arctic island. Thus he set out for there with his trusty guard dogs, Castor and Pollux. He hired a merchant captain to take him there, but the man was of a rather dubious sort. Marcus was taken to the agreed upon site, and ferried ashore with his dogs and supplies. The boat was to remain offshore, for Marcus had paid the man generously for his time. However the unscrupulous captain decided that the money was in his pocket, and when the fool died on the dangerous shore, there would no one to tell the tale. Thus Marcus found himself stranded on a frozen with only his dogs for companions, and only his alchemical wonders with which to protect himself.
buzzard
Last edited:
Corlon
First Post
Corlon...
Lv 2 Monk
Age: 18
Male, 5'8", 160#, Blue, Blond, LN
Initiative +3 Dex, HP 16
Languages: Common
AC 16, +3 Dex, +3 Wis
Stats:
Str 14/+2
Dex 16/+3
Con 10/+0
Int 10/+0
Wis 16/+3
Cha 10/+0
Saves:
Fortitude +3, +3 Base
Reflex +6, +3 Base, +3 Dex
Will, +6, +3 Base, +3 Will
Attacks:
Melee +3, +1 Base, +2 Str
Ranged +4, +1 Base, +3 Str
Skills:
Balance +10, +3 Dex, +5 Ranks, +2 Misc
Hide +8, +3 Dex, +5 Ranks
Listen +4, +3 Wis, +1 Ranks
Move Silently +8, +3 Dex, +5 Ranks
Tumble +8, +3 Dex, +5 Ranks
Swim +6 (- whatever weight I have), +2 Str, +4 Ranks
Feats/Special Abilities:
Dodge, Improved Grapple
Unarmed Strike, Stunning Attack, Flurry of Blows, Evasion, Deflect Arrows
Stuff:
Waterskin
Beltpouches (3)
Signet Ring
Artisans Clothes
Cold weather clothes
Trail Rations (2 days)
Masterwork Club
Masterwork Sling
Bullets (20)
Small Steel Mirror
135 pp, 24 gp, 21 sp, 20cp
Born into a broken household, Corlon never got to live a "happy childhood." At age ten, he couldn't stand it any more so he ran away to a monestary to learn the ways of unarmed combat. At the monestary he kept more to himself and found the everyday life of a monk to be boring, but could never get the money or courage to leave the safety of the monestary.
But one day, Corlon's one true friend at the monestary was murdered, and Corlon swore to track down the killer. He scrounged up some money, packed his belongings, and set out after the killer.
Corlon tracked the killer to the shore of Relone, where he boarded a ship, and chased the man to the Zuga islands. Making friends on his journies, Corlon learned many skills, especially how to swim from the towns on the Zuga island. Corlon used his new found abilities to keep on the trail, but he started to wonder what would make a killer kill a monk at a monestary, and then just keep on running.
Lv 2 Monk
Age: 18
Male, 5'8", 160#, Blue, Blond, LN
Initiative +3 Dex, HP 16
Languages: Common
AC 16, +3 Dex, +3 Wis
Stats:
Str 14/+2
Dex 16/+3
Con 10/+0
Int 10/+0
Wis 16/+3
Cha 10/+0
Saves:
Fortitude +3, +3 Base
Reflex +6, +3 Base, +3 Dex
Will, +6, +3 Base, +3 Will
Attacks:
Melee +3, +1 Base, +2 Str
Ranged +4, +1 Base, +3 Str
Skills:
Balance +10, +3 Dex, +5 Ranks, +2 Misc
Hide +8, +3 Dex, +5 Ranks
Listen +4, +3 Wis, +1 Ranks
Move Silently +8, +3 Dex, +5 Ranks
Tumble +8, +3 Dex, +5 Ranks
Swim +6 (- whatever weight I have), +2 Str, +4 Ranks
Feats/Special Abilities:
Dodge, Improved Grapple
Unarmed Strike, Stunning Attack, Flurry of Blows, Evasion, Deflect Arrows
Stuff:
Waterskin
Beltpouches (3)
Signet Ring
Artisans Clothes
Cold weather clothes
Trail Rations (2 days)
Masterwork Club
Masterwork Sling
Bullets (20)
Small Steel Mirror
135 pp, 24 gp, 21 sp, 20cp
Born into a broken household, Corlon never got to live a "happy childhood." At age ten, he couldn't stand it any more so he ran away to a monestary to learn the ways of unarmed combat. At the monestary he kept more to himself and found the everyday life of a monk to be boring, but could never get the money or courage to leave the safety of the monestary.
But one day, Corlon's one true friend at the monestary was murdered, and Corlon swore to track down the killer. He scrounged up some money, packed his belongings, and set out after the killer.
Corlon tracked the killer to the shore of Relone, where he boarded a ship, and chased the man to the Zuga islands. Making friends on his journies, Corlon learned many skills, especially how to swim from the towns on the Zuga island. Corlon used his new found abilities to keep on the trail, but he started to wonder what would make a killer kill a monk at a monestary, and then just keep on running.
Last edited:
Zhure
First Post
grrrr@+4 BAB. Sorry, I'll fix it. Did it all from memory. Thanks for letting me know. 
31 was the point-buy in the original description.
Swapped out Great Cleave for Expertise. Might change it to something else. That screwed up my whole progression plan, lol.
Swapped out the Psionic Tattoos for Boots of Burst (from the web enhancement).
Greg
31 was the point-buy in the original description.
Swapped out Great Cleave for Expertise. Might change it to something else. That screwed up my whole progression plan, lol.
Swapped out the Psionic Tattoos for Boots of Burst (from the web enhancement).
Greg
Last edited:
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