Cry Havoc's Shackled City - Character Sheet Thread
- Thread starter Cry Havoc
- Start date
Ryltar
First Post
Thalon Cor’luil
Chaotic neutral Wood Elf Fighter Level 1
Ability Scores: Str 14, Dex 18, Con 10, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8.
HD 1d10; hp 10;
Init +4; Spd 30 ft;
Armor Class 17, touch 14, flat-footed 13;
BAB +1; Grapple +2;
Attacks: +3/+3 melee (1d4 + 2/1d4 +1, crit 18-20, Kukri) or +5 ranged (1d8/crit x3, Longbow);
Special Qualities: Low-light Vision, +2 to saves vs enchantment, immune to sleep effects
Saves: Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +2;
Languages spoken: Common, Elven
Skills and Feats:
Balance +4
Jump +3
Knowledge (Nature) +1
Listen +4
Search +2
Spot +4
Tumble +4
Armor Proficiency (Light, Medium, Heavy)
Weapon Proficiency (Elf, Simple, Martial)
Shield Proficiency
Two-Weapon Fighting
Weapon Finesse
Possessions:
26 gp, 2 sp, 9 cp
Waterskin (4 lb), Traveler's outfit (5 lb), Longbow (3 lb), 2 Kukri (each 2 lb), Studded leather armor (20 lb), Whetstone (1 lb), 3 Trail rations (each 1 lb), Fishhook (0 lb), Flint and steel (0 lb), Bedroll (5 lb), 60 arrows (each .15 lb).
Total load: 54,7. Load capacities: 59/117/174 lbs.
Deity: Corellon Larethian.
Eye Color: Green.
Hair Color: Black.
Skin Color: Copper-tinged.
Height: 6' 0"
Weight: 200 lbs.
Age: 140
Appearance: Taller and more muscular than the norm, this Wood Elf has the level gaze that comes from one whose entire life has been in preparation for battle. When not actively fighting, Thalon almost appears on edge, like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. His intensity is obvious when looking into his steely green eyes which seem to be slowly scanning all that is around him, taking it in and weighing it. His long, straight black hair is usually tied back behind his ears with a thin, unadorned leather strap. His face shows much scarring, the evidence of a rough life lived in almost constant combat. His clothing tends to be a a patch-work of various shades of green and doesn't appear to be washed too often. His appearance sets him apart within the crowded confines of a city and Thalon tries to avoid these whenever possible. In wooded areas however he is able to blend in with ease.
Background: Thalon was born in a secluded elven community somewhere in the Broken Forest. His father, a seasoned hunter, and his loving mother spent lots of time with their son, and took great pride in bringing him up according to ancient elven values and traditions. Thalon rejoiced in what was taught to him, feeling at home in the forests and brother to all the beings within. Soon his heart was invariably bonded to the beauty of his homeland.
As he grew up, the young elf was taught the way of the sword by his father, a notion that was inherently different to understand for Thalon – why should there be any need to use claws and teeth, which, made not by nature, but by elven hands, would invariably destroy the perfect balance that surrounded him? His father turned away, distraught by the innocence inherent in his young son. Gritting his teeth, he then spoke of the dangers surrounding their utopia – aberrations created by foul sorcery that stalked the woods, hordes of foul orcish warriors, the anathema of everything elven, and the hideous undead ensorcelled by black magic that occasionally plagued the borders of the elven realm. Thalon took it all in with an incredulous look on his face, first believing his father to be joking. Then, the grim realisation set in: his sheltered life had as of yet spared him the dangers that plagued and haunted his people. His whole outlook of life had been a façade, a feeble attempt by his parents to protect him – their only child and pride - from reality. His eyes blazing, he for the first time ever made a demand of his father – to be given the opportunity to make himself a matched pair of weapons, and to be given the right to help his father protect the homeland. His parents argued against it, but finally had to give in to the ardent desires of their son, fulfilling his wish and initiating him into the elven troops that patrolled the borders of the Broken Forest.
His first ever confrontation would be the one that should both shape his destiny and influence his life for decades to come. A human necromancer had set up his liar in an ancient elven grove dedicated to the spirits of the Ancestors, and was unyielding in negotiations, threatening the elven emissaries with eternal unlife, should they try and use force to drive him out of the grove. The elves had ground their teeth in barely-concealed fury, but had been powerless to attack the mighty magician. The troops were rallied, as this abomination could no longer be allowed to continue. Seeing that Thalon had no battle experience whatsoever, the elven commander ordered him and a small group of younger elven fighters and woodsmen to standby as reinforcements, and only to enter battle, if the luck turned against those brave elves that would try to take on the human in a frontal assault. Thalon’s father was ordered to scout ahead, as his skill in remaining unseen was unrivaled amongst the elves.
Thalon’s group hid themselves in a small grove of trees, about half a mile removed from the site of the battle. The elves fidgeted nervously, some checking if their bows were properly strung, others sharpening their blades. Thalon drew the twin kukris his father had crafted for him before the battle, having cautioned that his son use them only in the direst need, and held them before his eyes. The twinkling stars and the beauty of the elven forest framed his face, drawn thin with worry for his father, but his focus and resolve were clear in his steely gaze. Well, then. If he had to see battle, he would make his father proud, and show him why he had always been wrong in …
A loud cry rose into the night sky, chilling the elves to the bone, followed by a flash of lighning a small distance away. The animals of the forest ceased their nightly concert, and for a few seconds, all was cast in deadly silence. Then, another cry rang out, followed by the clash of steel on steel. Exploding into motion, the young elves forgot all about their orders, drawn by the excitement of battle and fear for their kin. The small band sped along the trails, crashing into the underbrush towards the site of the battle, not caring for any sounds they might make. Battle was already joined, and danger was near.
As they reached the small grove that constituted the necromancer’s lair, they were greeted by a dreadful sight. Strewn all over the place were the bodies of elven warriors, still clad in their armor, but horribly burned and mutilated. A few were yet on their feet, fighting desperately against a horde of shambling creatures barring their way. Behind the unnatural horde stood a man clad in black robes, shouting echoing syllables at the top of his hoarse voice. An elven archer tried to shoot him with a yew arrow, but failed as the missile bounced off the human as if it were but a straw. Thalon and his band nocked their arrows and fired, a few of their shots hitting the mark and making one of the shambling corpses look like a pincushion. The undead snarled, but did not drop. Instead, it swung a mighty blow against the elven warrior blocking its path – and advanced on the young fighters, many of which paled and bolted. Only Thalon and two others stayed back, spreading out and drawing their weapons, knowing, that they would not be able to help their comrades if they did not destroy this horror first. The lumbering figure snarled again, then lunged at one of Thalon’s comrades, disembowelling the elf who could not get his defenses up fast enough. With a cry of rage, Thalon and his sole remaining companion sprang upon the creature, slashing at it from behind, but only grazing its skin, as it quickly turned away and leaped out of their reach. While the elves were still trying to find a way to deal with the undead spirit, the Necromancer, however, had not remained idle. A missile tinged with a greenish sheen shot through the air, taking Thalon’s companion in the throat and dropping him with a gurgling sound. The young elf’s mind raced. He could not beat this creature alone. He would need to …
His thoughts were cut short as his opponent leaped again, using his moment of distraction to grapple him and pin his arms to his side, all the while frantically trying to bite him. Thalon, knowing he was doomed, struggled with all of his might, but could not dislodge the undead, throwing his head wildly to evade the snapping jaws, almost falling unconscious from the stink of the creature’s rotting breath. Almost overcome, he finally resorted to a different tactic: giving in to his foe, and letting himself fall backwards, using the force of the fall to throw the vile beast out above him, and jumping to his feet again. His opponent, though possessed by a certain kind of feral cunning, never saw the move coming, and was still lying on his face when Thalon was upon him, cutting and slashing at its throat, his kukris drawing deep lines in the creature’s mottled skin, finally decapitating the struggling undead in a desperate swing. The young elf leapt to his feet, trying to reorient himself. He still felt dizzy, and his breathing hurt. No time to think about that, now, though. He leapt toward the necromancer with a loud scream, who, at this moment, was struggling with the last two remaining elven warriors, using a shimmering blade to keep one busy while trading clubbing blows with another, who dropped dead the moment Thalon entered the fray, his skull crushed.
The human blinked incredulously as yet another elf assaulted him. Would they not see that he was superior? His might would tear them all to shreds. Mumbling an incantation, he pointed a finger at the charging young warrior, his hand taking on a sickly violet glow. When Thalon was only a few paces away, a ray of energy left the mage’s finger and stabbed through the darkness toward him, a shining beacon of the elf’s foolishness. The moment it would have hit Thalon, though, the enraged elf felt something bump into him from the side, throwing him off course, flinging him a few feet away. Tumbling toward the ground in a futile attempt to keep his footing, he beheld with horror the figure of his father, standing at the spot where Thalon had stood a second earlier, frozen in his movement, turned into a column of a white, crystalline substance. The wind took this opportunity to blow through the trees, a soft breeze that met the statue of Thalon’s father, and, with a soft sighing sound, carrying away myriads of tiny particles of dust, leaving nothing in its wake.
Thalon, overcome with grief, knew nothing more at this point, waking the next morning in a clearing filled with decay and death. The necromancer lay before him, his black cloak separated in exactly one point, a kukri having drawn a second, ugly mouth across his throat. The young elf would, in all the years to come, never forget the rictus grin that was locked on the dead human’s face, in its moment of death still displaying nothing but smug glee.
After a few hours, Thalon was found by an elven patrol, alarmed by the fact that no one had sent news about the outcome of the battle the following night. They wept, as they saw the carnage in their once sacred group, and they were overcome with rage as they looked into the face of the necromancer. They took their dead and bore them back into the village, burning the undead in a small spot outside the grove. The village elders, upon listening to the story Thalon told in a flat voice, lauded him and called him a hero and a defender of the elven people. The young elf would have none of it, though. He proclaimed with an emotionless voice, that he had suffered the ultimate failure, letting the human destroy his father all because of his foolishness. He claimed that never, ever could he look into a lake again to see his mirror image, and that he was not a hero. He would, however, from this day henceforth, devote all his strength to what he perceived to be his father’s legacy: protect the homeland. But he would not stay with his own people, as he could not bear their sight as testament to his failure. He vowed for all the gods to listen that he would leave the forest and set out, rooting out the enemies of elvendom on their own ground. None that he knew of should be able to deal damage to the Broken Wood anymore. The elders tried to discourage him from what they perceived was no carefully-laid plan, but rather impulsive action caused by his father’s death, but in the end could not stop him withouth forcing their will upon him. Thus, Thalon Cor’luil left the Broken Wood the day after, not looking back, but keeping his burning eyes focused on the horizon. His path clearly lay before him.
What Thalon is up to now: Having travelled extensively, honing his fighting skills and rooting out foes of elvendom where he can find them, the young elf has just freshly arrived in the city of Cauldron, reluctantly resting his weary feet in an inn, listening to the gossip of the patrons for clues about anything that might threaten his beloved homeland.
Fears/Weaknesses: Thalon is haunted still by the death of his father, and thus tends not to talk about it. He is not quick to make friends, and many are put off by his looks, but once one looks behind the façade the elf hides behind, he is quite an amiable fellow. Not a great planner or strategist, Thalon’s biggest strength beside his skill in battle is his intuition and steely resolve, which any allies of his can depend on.
Chaotic neutral Wood Elf Fighter Level 1
Ability Scores: Str 14, Dex 18, Con 10, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8.
HD 1d10; hp 10;
Init +4; Spd 30 ft;
Armor Class 17, touch 14, flat-footed 13;
BAB +1; Grapple +2;
Attacks: +3/+3 melee (1d4 + 2/1d4 +1, crit 18-20, Kukri) or +5 ranged (1d8/crit x3, Longbow);
Special Qualities: Low-light Vision, +2 to saves vs enchantment, immune to sleep effects
Saves: Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +2;
Languages spoken: Common, Elven
Skills and Feats:
Balance +4
Jump +3
Knowledge (Nature) +1
Listen +4
Search +2
Spot +4
Tumble +4
Armor Proficiency (Light, Medium, Heavy)
Weapon Proficiency (Elf, Simple, Martial)
Shield Proficiency
Two-Weapon Fighting
Weapon Finesse
Possessions:
26 gp, 2 sp, 9 cp
Waterskin (4 lb), Traveler's outfit (5 lb), Longbow (3 lb), 2 Kukri (each 2 lb), Studded leather armor (20 lb), Whetstone (1 lb), 3 Trail rations (each 1 lb), Fishhook (0 lb), Flint and steel (0 lb), Bedroll (5 lb), 60 arrows (each .15 lb).
Total load: 54,7. Load capacities: 59/117/174 lbs.
Deity: Corellon Larethian.
Eye Color: Green.
Hair Color: Black.
Skin Color: Copper-tinged.
Height: 6' 0"
Weight: 200 lbs.
Age: 140
Appearance: Taller and more muscular than the norm, this Wood Elf has the level gaze that comes from one whose entire life has been in preparation for battle. When not actively fighting, Thalon almost appears on edge, like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. His intensity is obvious when looking into his steely green eyes which seem to be slowly scanning all that is around him, taking it in and weighing it. His long, straight black hair is usually tied back behind his ears with a thin, unadorned leather strap. His face shows much scarring, the evidence of a rough life lived in almost constant combat. His clothing tends to be a a patch-work of various shades of green and doesn't appear to be washed too often. His appearance sets him apart within the crowded confines of a city and Thalon tries to avoid these whenever possible. In wooded areas however he is able to blend in with ease.
Background: Thalon was born in a secluded elven community somewhere in the Broken Forest. His father, a seasoned hunter, and his loving mother spent lots of time with their son, and took great pride in bringing him up according to ancient elven values and traditions. Thalon rejoiced in what was taught to him, feeling at home in the forests and brother to all the beings within. Soon his heart was invariably bonded to the beauty of his homeland.
As he grew up, the young elf was taught the way of the sword by his father, a notion that was inherently different to understand for Thalon – why should there be any need to use claws and teeth, which, made not by nature, but by elven hands, would invariably destroy the perfect balance that surrounded him? His father turned away, distraught by the innocence inherent in his young son. Gritting his teeth, he then spoke of the dangers surrounding their utopia – aberrations created by foul sorcery that stalked the woods, hordes of foul orcish warriors, the anathema of everything elven, and the hideous undead ensorcelled by black magic that occasionally plagued the borders of the elven realm. Thalon took it all in with an incredulous look on his face, first believing his father to be joking. Then, the grim realisation set in: his sheltered life had as of yet spared him the dangers that plagued and haunted his people. His whole outlook of life had been a façade, a feeble attempt by his parents to protect him – their only child and pride - from reality. His eyes blazing, he for the first time ever made a demand of his father – to be given the opportunity to make himself a matched pair of weapons, and to be given the right to help his father protect the homeland. His parents argued against it, but finally had to give in to the ardent desires of their son, fulfilling his wish and initiating him into the elven troops that patrolled the borders of the Broken Forest.
His first ever confrontation would be the one that should both shape his destiny and influence his life for decades to come. A human necromancer had set up his liar in an ancient elven grove dedicated to the spirits of the Ancestors, and was unyielding in negotiations, threatening the elven emissaries with eternal unlife, should they try and use force to drive him out of the grove. The elves had ground their teeth in barely-concealed fury, but had been powerless to attack the mighty magician. The troops were rallied, as this abomination could no longer be allowed to continue. Seeing that Thalon had no battle experience whatsoever, the elven commander ordered him and a small group of younger elven fighters and woodsmen to standby as reinforcements, and only to enter battle, if the luck turned against those brave elves that would try to take on the human in a frontal assault. Thalon’s father was ordered to scout ahead, as his skill in remaining unseen was unrivaled amongst the elves.
Thalon’s group hid themselves in a small grove of trees, about half a mile removed from the site of the battle. The elves fidgeted nervously, some checking if their bows were properly strung, others sharpening their blades. Thalon drew the twin kukris his father had crafted for him before the battle, having cautioned that his son use them only in the direst need, and held them before his eyes. The twinkling stars and the beauty of the elven forest framed his face, drawn thin with worry for his father, but his focus and resolve were clear in his steely gaze. Well, then. If he had to see battle, he would make his father proud, and show him why he had always been wrong in …
A loud cry rose into the night sky, chilling the elves to the bone, followed by a flash of lighning a small distance away. The animals of the forest ceased their nightly concert, and for a few seconds, all was cast in deadly silence. Then, another cry rang out, followed by the clash of steel on steel. Exploding into motion, the young elves forgot all about their orders, drawn by the excitement of battle and fear for their kin. The small band sped along the trails, crashing into the underbrush towards the site of the battle, not caring for any sounds they might make. Battle was already joined, and danger was near.
As they reached the small grove that constituted the necromancer’s lair, they were greeted by a dreadful sight. Strewn all over the place were the bodies of elven warriors, still clad in their armor, but horribly burned and mutilated. A few were yet on their feet, fighting desperately against a horde of shambling creatures barring their way. Behind the unnatural horde stood a man clad in black robes, shouting echoing syllables at the top of his hoarse voice. An elven archer tried to shoot him with a yew arrow, but failed as the missile bounced off the human as if it were but a straw. Thalon and his band nocked their arrows and fired, a few of their shots hitting the mark and making one of the shambling corpses look like a pincushion. The undead snarled, but did not drop. Instead, it swung a mighty blow against the elven warrior blocking its path – and advanced on the young fighters, many of which paled and bolted. Only Thalon and two others stayed back, spreading out and drawing their weapons, knowing, that they would not be able to help their comrades if they did not destroy this horror first. The lumbering figure snarled again, then lunged at one of Thalon’s comrades, disembowelling the elf who could not get his defenses up fast enough. With a cry of rage, Thalon and his sole remaining companion sprang upon the creature, slashing at it from behind, but only grazing its skin, as it quickly turned away and leaped out of their reach. While the elves were still trying to find a way to deal with the undead spirit, the Necromancer, however, had not remained idle. A missile tinged with a greenish sheen shot through the air, taking Thalon’s companion in the throat and dropping him with a gurgling sound. The young elf’s mind raced. He could not beat this creature alone. He would need to …
His thoughts were cut short as his opponent leaped again, using his moment of distraction to grapple him and pin his arms to his side, all the while frantically trying to bite him. Thalon, knowing he was doomed, struggled with all of his might, but could not dislodge the undead, throwing his head wildly to evade the snapping jaws, almost falling unconscious from the stink of the creature’s rotting breath. Almost overcome, he finally resorted to a different tactic: giving in to his foe, and letting himself fall backwards, using the force of the fall to throw the vile beast out above him, and jumping to his feet again. His opponent, though possessed by a certain kind of feral cunning, never saw the move coming, and was still lying on his face when Thalon was upon him, cutting and slashing at its throat, his kukris drawing deep lines in the creature’s mottled skin, finally decapitating the struggling undead in a desperate swing. The young elf leapt to his feet, trying to reorient himself. He still felt dizzy, and his breathing hurt. No time to think about that, now, though. He leapt toward the necromancer with a loud scream, who, at this moment, was struggling with the last two remaining elven warriors, using a shimmering blade to keep one busy while trading clubbing blows with another, who dropped dead the moment Thalon entered the fray, his skull crushed.
The human blinked incredulously as yet another elf assaulted him. Would they not see that he was superior? His might would tear them all to shreds. Mumbling an incantation, he pointed a finger at the charging young warrior, his hand taking on a sickly violet glow. When Thalon was only a few paces away, a ray of energy left the mage’s finger and stabbed through the darkness toward him, a shining beacon of the elf’s foolishness. The moment it would have hit Thalon, though, the enraged elf felt something bump into him from the side, throwing him off course, flinging him a few feet away. Tumbling toward the ground in a futile attempt to keep his footing, he beheld with horror the figure of his father, standing at the spot where Thalon had stood a second earlier, frozen in his movement, turned into a column of a white, crystalline substance. The wind took this opportunity to blow through the trees, a soft breeze that met the statue of Thalon’s father, and, with a soft sighing sound, carrying away myriads of tiny particles of dust, leaving nothing in its wake.
Thalon, overcome with grief, knew nothing more at this point, waking the next morning in a clearing filled with decay and death. The necromancer lay before him, his black cloak separated in exactly one point, a kukri having drawn a second, ugly mouth across his throat. The young elf would, in all the years to come, never forget the rictus grin that was locked on the dead human’s face, in its moment of death still displaying nothing but smug glee.
After a few hours, Thalon was found by an elven patrol, alarmed by the fact that no one had sent news about the outcome of the battle the following night. They wept, as they saw the carnage in their once sacred group, and they were overcome with rage as they looked into the face of the necromancer. They took their dead and bore them back into the village, burning the undead in a small spot outside the grove. The village elders, upon listening to the story Thalon told in a flat voice, lauded him and called him a hero and a defender of the elven people. The young elf would have none of it, though. He proclaimed with an emotionless voice, that he had suffered the ultimate failure, letting the human destroy his father all because of his foolishness. He claimed that never, ever could he look into a lake again to see his mirror image, and that he was not a hero. He would, however, from this day henceforth, devote all his strength to what he perceived to be his father’s legacy: protect the homeland. But he would not stay with his own people, as he could not bear their sight as testament to his failure. He vowed for all the gods to listen that he would leave the forest and set out, rooting out the enemies of elvendom on their own ground. None that he knew of should be able to deal damage to the Broken Wood anymore. The elders tried to discourage him from what they perceived was no carefully-laid plan, but rather impulsive action caused by his father’s death, but in the end could not stop him withouth forcing their will upon him. Thus, Thalon Cor’luil left the Broken Wood the day after, not looking back, but keeping his burning eyes focused on the horizon. His path clearly lay before him.
What Thalon is up to now: Having travelled extensively, honing his fighting skills and rooting out foes of elvendom where he can find them, the young elf has just freshly arrived in the city of Cauldron, reluctantly resting his weary feet in an inn, listening to the gossip of the patrons for clues about anything that might threaten his beloved homeland.
Fears/Weaknesses: Thalon is haunted still by the death of his father, and thus tends not to talk about it. He is not quick to make friends, and many are put off by his looks, but once one looks behind the façade the elf hides behind, he is quite an amiable fellow. Not a great planner or strategist, Thalon’s biggest strength beside his skill in battle is his intuition and steely resolve, which any allies of his can depend on.
Ankh-Morpork Guard
First Post
Code:
[B]Name:[/B] Fenrik Sammel
[B]Class:[/B] Rogue
[B]Race:[/B] Human
[B]Size:[/B] Medium
[B]Gender:[/B] Male
[B]Alignment:[/B] CG
[B]Deity:[/B] Olidammara (Or whatever suits his interests at the moment)
[B]Str:[/B] 13 +1 [B]Level:[/B] 1 [B]XP:[/B] 0
[B]Dex:[/B] 14 +2 [B]BAB:[/B] +0 [B]HP:[/B] 6 (1d6)
[B]Con:[/B] 10 +0 [B]Grapple:[/B] +1 [B]Current HP:[/B] 6
[B]Int:[/B] 13 +1 [B]Speed:[/B] 30'
[B]Wis:[/B] 8 -1 [B]Init:[/B] +2
[B]Cha:[/B] 16 +3 [B]ACP:[/B] -1
[B]Base Armor Shld Dex Size Nat Misc Total[/B]
[B]Armor:[/B] 10 +3 +0 +2 +0 +0 +0 15
[B]Touch:[/B] 12 [B]Flatfooted:[/B] 13
[B]Base Mod Misc Total[/B]
[B]Fort:[/B] 0 +0 +0
[B]Ref:[/B] 2 +2 +4
[B]Will:[/B] 0 -1 -1
[B]Weapon Attack Damage Critical[/B]
Rapier +1 1d6+1 18-20/x2
[B]Languages:[/B] Common, Elven
[B]Abilities:[/B] Sneak Attack +1d6, Trapfinding
[B]Feats:[/B] Combat Expertise, Improved Feint
[B]Skill Points:[/B] 40 [B]Max Ranks:[/B] 4/2
[B]Skills Ranks Mod Misc Total[/B]
Appraise 4 +1 +5
Bluff 4 +3 +7
Disable Device 4 +2 +6
Escape Artist 4 +2 -1 +5
Move Silently 4 +2 -1 +5
Open Lock 4 +2 +6
Search 4 +1 +5
Sense Motive 4 +3 +7
Sleight of Hand 4 +2 -1 +5
Tumble 4 +2 -1 +5
[B]Equipment: Cost Weight[/B]
Rapier 20gp 2 lbs
Studded Leather 25gp 20 lbs
Traveler's Outfit 1gp 5 lbs
Backpack 2gp 2 lbs
-Bedroll 1sp 5 lbs
-Trail Rations(x4) 2gp 4 lbs
-Whetstone 2cp 1 lb
-Silk Rope(50ft) 10gp 5 lbs
-Thieves' Tools 30gp 1 lb
[B]Total Weight:[/B] 45 lbs(light) [B]Money:[/B] 35gp 8sp 8cp
[B]Lgt Med Hvy Lift Push[/B]
[B]Max Weight:[/B] 51 101 150 300 750
[B]Age:[/B] 22
[B]Height:[/B] 5'9"
[B]Weight:[/B] 135 lbs
[B]Eyes:[/B] Blue
[B]Hair:[/B] Brown
[B]Skin:[/B] TanAppearance: Fenrik has scruffy, near-shoulder length brown hair with a habit of getting in his ice blue eyes. His face is clean, smooth, but somehow doesn't show his young age as much as it seems like it should. There's usually a smile on his face, and this smile becomes more of a grin anytime a woman is around. Overall, he is generally lean and he almost looks like a coiled spring ready to be let go.
Background: Born and raised in a boring, middle of no where farm, Fenrik quickly escaped that life as soon as he could. He found himself in a city, of which he never really found out the name. It didn't matter to him. It was the people that amazed him, and quickly gained his interest. He learned how to tell people what they wanted to hear so as to make them more...friendly and helpful towards him. He also learned a few other less honourable(depending on your definition of honour, of course) skills during that time.
Through his life, Fenrik has been driven from place to place by one simple motivation. Women. Over time, he came to the belief that he was simply the God's gift to women, and that they just hadn't realized that yet. Of course, sometimes Fenrik is not moving to another place to FIND women, but simply trying to escape the enraged one with the dagger he didn't happen to see before making that comment about her sister who he could have sworn wasn't in any way related to her. Despite all the failures, it has simply made Fenrik more determined to prove to the women of the world that he's better than every other male that exists. So, he adventures, finding treasure, gold...shiny things that women like for some reason.
It is this that has brought him to Cauldron(this, and the threat to never return to the last town he was in for asking the Duchess, who looked nothing LIKE a Duchess mind you, something a little too close to the Duke).
Code:
[SIZE=4]Aleria Corlean[/SIZE]
[i]Neutral Good Sorcerer Level 1[/i]
[U]Ability Scores:[/U] Str 8, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 10, Cha 16.
HD 1d4; hp 5;
Init +3; Spd 30 ft;
[U]Armor Class[/U] 13, touch 13, flat-footed 10;
BAB +0; Grapple -1;
[U]Attacks:[/U] -1 melee (1d4 -1, crit 20/X2, Dagger), +3 ranged (1d6-1 crit 20/x3, shortbow),
-1 melee (1d6 -1, crit 20/X2, quarterstaff);
[U]Special Qualities:[/U] Low-light Vision, +2 to saves vs enchantment,
immune to sleep effects, +2 to listen, search and spot,
automatic search
[U]Saves:[/U] Fort +1, Ref +3, Will +2;
[U]Languages spoken:[/U] Common, Elven, Draconic
[U]Skills and Feats:[/U]
Appraise +1
Balance +3
Bluff +4 (+1 ranks)
Climb -1
concentration +3 (+2 ranks)
diplomacy +3
disguse +3
escape artist +3
forgery +1
gather information +3
hide +3
intimidate +3
jump -1
knowledge (arcane) +5 (+4 ranks)
listen +2 (+2 for being an Gray elf)
move silent +3
ride +3
Search +2 (+2 for being an Gray elf)
Spell craft +4 (+3 ranks)
Spot +2 (+2 for being an Gray elf)
Swim +0 (+2 skill - cross class)
use rope +3
Weapon Proficiency (Elf, Simple)
Scribe Spell
[U]Possessions:[/U]
dagger (1 lb) 2gp
Short Bow (2 lb) 30 gp
20 arrows (3 lb) 1 gp
Quarter Staff (4 lb) 0gp
Waterskin (4 lb) 1gp
Explorer's outfit (0 lb) 0
Whetstone (1 lb) 2 cp
2 Trail rations (2 lb) 1 gp
Flint and steel (0 lb) 1 gp
Bedroll (5 lb) 1sp
pouch (.5 lb) 1 gp
Spell component pouch (2 lb) 5gp
weight: 24.5 lbs
money remaining 32 gold 8 silver 8 copper
Deity: Boccob
Eye Color: Right: Silver/Grey Left: Green.
Hair Color: Blond.
Height: 4'10"
Weight: 116 lbs.
Sex: Female
Age:115
[U]Spells[/U]
—— 0-Level Spells (Cantrips) ——
Acid Splash
Daze
Light
Ray of Frost
—— 1st-Level Spells ——
Color Spray
Mage ArmorAppearance: Short even for elven standards, Aleria stands at 4'10". Her blonde hair is done into a single braid that reaches the small of her back, undone it would probably reach the back of her knees. She is proud of her hair and goes to great lengths to keep it neat and clean. People would consider her attractive and she knows it but tries not to use it to her advantage (mostly).
Distintive features Her left eye is green while her right is a greyish silver.
She has a birthmark/tattoo of a dragon, it starts at the corner of her right eye and travels down her neck onto her back.
Background: Aleria was abandoned when she was just a baby, her parents left her in a small elven village deep withing Jagged Pine forest and was adopted by an elven couple that had no children. Her childhood was normal and she grew up with the other children of the village without ever knowing that she was adopted.
All that changed as she came into puberty, the color in her right eye started to faded away and the dragon birthmark slowly appeared as well as strange occurrences started to manifest in various parts of the village. The normally xenophobic elves grew even more paraniod and with tension running high Aleria's parents had no other option but to tell her the truth about her past.
She was devistated, the people that raised her weren't her actual parents, so who were they? Why did they abandon her? That and hundreds of other questions ran through her mind. Her adopted parents belived that she was the cause of the strange occurrences and they hoped that if they expained it the others would come to accept her abilities.
They were wrong, with a someone to pin their problems on the rest of the village flew into a near frenzy, demanding that she should be exiled. There was some even demanding her death, she barely had time to grab what little belongings she owned and to flee into the forest.
Alone and scared she ran for hours eventually collapsing at the base of a large tree truely alone for the first time she cried until she had no more tears, she desprately wished that she had someone with her, so she wasn't so alone.
Eventually she fell into a deep slumber only to be awoken hours later by a gentle nudging, she opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was a strange human face looking down at her. Once the man calmed her down, he explained that he heard her crying and came looking for her, he told her that what was happening was a normal thing and that in fact she was a sorcerer, someone who could tap into the raw power of magic without the need of countless hours of study.
Kip, as he liked to be called invited her to his home, he explained that he too was a sorcerer and that he has been living in the forest for years and he would like to help her control her powers. With no where else to go she agreed. True to his word he helped her, months went by as he taught her how to control her abilities, as well as telling her about the outside world. Teaching not to be too trustfull of strangers, not everyone will have her best interests at heart. Once she had enough confidence she went out in search of her birth parents. Having no idea where to start she just wandered eventually coming to the city of cauldron.
Vigwyn the Unruly
First Post
Code:
[B]Name:[/B] Brokkus Cronin
[B]Class:[/B] Cleric
[B]Race:[/B] Gold Dwarf
[B]Size:[/B] Medium
[B]Gender:[/B] Male
[B]Alignment:[/B] CN
[B]Deity:[/B] Obad-Hai
[B]Str:[/B] 14 +2 (6p.) [B]Level:[/B] 1 [B]XP:[/B] 0
[B]Dex:[/B] 12 +1 (6p.) [B]BAB:[/B] +0 [B]HP:[/B] 9 (1d8+1)
[B]Con:[/B] 12 +1 (2p.) [B]Grapple:[/B] +2 [B]Current HP:[/B] 9
[B]Int:[/B] 10 +0 (2p.) [B]Speed:[/B] 20' [B]Spell Save DC Mod:[/B] +2
[B]Wis:[/B] 15 +2 (8p.) [B]Init:[/B] +1
[B]Cha:[/B] 12 +1 (4p.) [B]ACP:[/B] -4
[B]Base Armor Shld Dex Size Nat Misc Total[/B]
[B]Armor:[/B] 10 +4 +0 +1 +0 +0 +0 15
[B]Touch:[/B] 11 [B]Flat-footed:[/B] 14
[B]Base Mod Misc Total[/B]
[B]Fort:[/B] 2 +1 +3
[B]Ref:[/B] 0 +1 +1
[B]Will:[/B] 2 +2 +4
[B]+2 racial bonus against poison, spells, or spell-like effects[/B]
[B]Weapon Attack Damage Critical[/B]
Dwarven waraxe 2h +2 1d10+3 x3
Dwarven waraxe 1h +2 1d10+2 x3
Light crossbow +1 1d8 19-20x2 (range 80’)
[B]Languages:[/B] Common, Dwarven
[B]Abilities:[/B]
[B]Dwarf:[/B] Darkvision 60’; Stonecunning: automatic Search checks for unusual
stonework (including traps) within 10’; Stability (+4 bonus vs. bull rush
or trip); +1 Atk vs. aberrations; +4 dodge bonus to AC vs. giant-type
[B]Cleric:[/B] Spontaneous Casting, Turn Undead (5x/day)
[B]Feats:[/B] Martial Weapon Proficiency [dwarven waraxe]
[B]Skill Points:[/B] 8 [B]Max Ranks:[/B] 4/2
[B]Skills Ranks Mod Misc Total[/B]
Appraise 0 +0 +0 (+2 stone or metal)
Balance 0 +1 +1 (-3 when in armor)
Climb 0 +2 +2 (-2 when in armor)
Craft 0 +0 +0 (+2 stone or metal)
Escape Artist 0 +1 +1 (-3 when in armor)
Heal 4 +2 +6
Hide 0 +1 +1 (-3 when in armor)
Jump 0 +2 +2 (-2 when in armor)
Knowledge (religion) 4 +0 +4
Listen 0 +2 +2
Move Silently 0 +1 +1 (-3 when in armor)
Search 0 +0 +0 (+2 unusual stonework)
Spot 0 +2 +2
Swim 0 +2 +2 (-6 when in armor)
[B]Equipment: Cost Weight[/B]
Explorer’s Outfit 0gp --lb
Scale mail 50gp 30lb
Holy symbol, wooden 1gp --lb
Dwarven waraxe 30gp 8lb
Light crossbow 35gp 4lb
Bolts (20) 2gp 2lb
Waterskin 1gp 4lb
Spell component pouch 5gp 2lb
[B]Total Weight:[/B] 50lb [B]Money:[/B] 1gp 0sp 0cp
[B]Lgt Med Hvy Lift Push[/B]
[B]Max Weight:[/B] 58 116 175 350 875
[B]Age:[/B] 68
[B]Height:[/B] 4'2"
[B]Weight:[/B] 172lb
[B]Eyes:[/B] hazel
[B]Hair:[/B] chestnut
[B]Skin:[/B] golden tanCleric Domains:
Air (Turn or destroy earth creatures; rebuke, command or bolster air creatures)
Earth (Turn or destroy air creatures; rebuke, command or bolster earth creatures)
Spells Per Day: 3/2+1
Spells Prepared:
0—detect magic, guidance, read magic;
1st—comprehend languages, obscuring mist*, summon monster I
Prepares spells at dawn
Can’t cast Law spells
Appearance: Brokkus, or Acolyte Cronin as he is known in his official capacity, is stocky and lean. His scale mail armor covers a muscular body toned by a lifetime of difficult physical work. However, his hazel eyes betray a fancy for the philosophical. His golden tan skin is complemented by a luxurious chestnut beard, the strands of which hang in a multitude of meticulous braids from his chin and jaw. His head is completely bald. Although he doesn’t wear cleric’s vestments while away from the monastery, he does cover his armor with a kelly green tunic, and a large wooden symbol of Obad-Hai hangs around his waist on a simple leather thong.
Background: Brokkus’s homeland lies thousands of miles away, and is an enormous underground city-state. Brokkus’s parents, however, were part of a small contingent sent to colonize a distant mountain range, so Brokkus was born and raised in the mountains. His days were spent hard at work, carving new tunnels and halls deep into the side of the mountain. Leisure time, however, was spent exploring the wooded surface, with its great, wide sky.
Brokkus’s life and thinking took on an odd sort of balance: between earth and air. For Brokkus, earth began to symbolize the underground world of work and physical effort, while air came to symbolize the surface world where he found the freedom and space to pursue his philosophical studies. These two aspects of his life balanced his body and mind as well, making him both strong and wise.
Brokkus found great wonder in the strange, almost spiritual balance of his life. It reminded him of the balance he found in the natural world of his up-bringing: earth and air. When he came of age, he left for the local monastery of Obad-Hai. He was a good student there, devoting his time to the mastery of the Earth and Air clerical domains. Obad-Hai’s neutral nature complemented Brokkus’s sense of balance well.
However, his chaotic nature eventually overcame him, and Brokkus asked the Prefect for permission to leave the monastery to pursue his studies as a traveling cleric. The Prefect, seeing that Acolyte Cronin would not be denied, consented. Brokkus took up his axe and bow, armored himself in scale mail forged by the dwarven colonists, and set out to learn more about earth and air in the wide world.
When Brokkus heard of an entire city perched precariously in the caldera of a dormant volcano, he simply had to go there. To think, an entire city existing in the balance between earth and air! Now that he is here in the city of Cauldron, Brokkus finds that his curiosity is nearly burning him from the inside out. He wants nothing more than to understand the mysteries of this place. Of course, that kind of exploring is difficult to do alone...
silentspace
First Post
Vishan Xandrythar "Shan" "The Gray Trader"
Male Human Wizard 1
Alignment: Neutral
Patron Deity: Fharlanghn
Height: 5' 10''
Weight: 140 lbs
Hair: White (shaved)
Eyes: Silver
Age: 17
Str: 8 (-1) [0 points]
Dex: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Con: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Int: 16 (+3) [10 points]
Wis: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Cha: 10 (+0) [2 points]
Class and Racial Abilities: Medium Humanoid (human), base speed 30, Bonus feat, Extra Skill Points
Hit Dice: 1d4 + 2
HP: 6
AC: 12 (+2 Dex)
Init: +2 (+2 Dex)
Speed: 30 ft
Arcane Spell Failure: 0%
Saves:
Fortitude +4 [+0 base, +2 Con, +2 Great Fortitude]
Reflex +4 [+0 base, +2 Dex, +2 Lightning Reflexes]
Will +3 [+2 base, +1 Wis]
BAB: +0
Melee Atk: -1 (1d4-1, 19-20/x2, P or S, Dagger)
Ranged Atk: +2 (1d4-1, 19-20/x2, 10 r, P or S, Dagger)
Skills:
Ranks: 24
Concentration +6 [4 ranks, +2 Con]
Decipher Script +4 [1 ranks, +3 Int]
Knowledge (Arcana) +7 [4 ranks, +3 Int]
Knowledge (History) +4 [1 ranks, +3 Int]
Knowledge (Nobility and Royalty) +7 [4 ranks, +3 Int]
Knowledge (Planes) +7 [4 ranks, +3 Int]
Sense Motive +2 [1 cc ranks, +1 Wis]
Spellcraft +7 [4 ranks, +3 Int]
Feats:
Lightning Reflexes (Human)
Great Fortitude (Level 1)
Scribe Scroll (Wizard 1)
Languages: Common, Draconic, Elven, Undercommon
Spells Prepared:
Save DC +3
0th (3) - dancing lights, ghost sound, prestidigitation
1st (1+1) - charm person, magic missile
Spellbook:
0th - acid splash, arcane mark, dancing lights, daze, detect magic, detect poison, disrupt undead, flare, ghost sound, light, mage hand, mending, message, open/close, prestidigitation, ray of frost, read magic, resistance, touch of fatigue
1st - charm person, disguise self, expeditious retreat, identify, magic missile, shield
Equipment: (Starting Gold 75 gp)
Explorer's outfit [-, - lb]
Spell component pouch (in pockets) [5 gp, 2 lb]
Signal whistle (around neck) [8 sp, - lb]
Dagger (on belt) [2 gp, 1 lb]
Pouch (on belt) [1 gp, 1/2 lb]
- Spellbook [-, 3 lb]
- Caltrops [1 gp, 2 lb]
- Chalk [1 cp, - lb]
- Flint and steel [1 gp, - lb]
- Ink [8 gp, - lb]
- Inkpen [1 sp, - lb]
- Oil [1 sp, 1 lb] x3
- Parchment [2 sp, - lb]
- Money (see below) [-, 1 lb]
Value: 19.41 gp
Weight: 12.5 lb
Carrying Capacity: 26/53/80
Money
23 gp, 7 sp, 7 cp
"Rufus", pet Guard Dog [25 gp, - lb]
Medium Pack Saddle [5 gp, 3.75 lb]
- Bedroll [1 sp, 5 lb]
- Rations [5 sp, 1 lb]
- Torch [1 cp, 1 lb] x2
- Waterskin [1 gp, 4 lb]
Value: 31.62 gp
Weight: 15.75 lb
Carrying Capacity: 100/200/300
Appearance: Vishan is a thin man with intense silver eyes, perhaps the faint mark of celestial or dragon blood. His clothes are all of a subtle warm gray, and he keeps himself and his gear well-groomed and clean. His head is shaved clean, but his eyebrows are white (white hair is a mark of his family, along with his silver eyes). He wears fine gray clothing, covered with a gray cloak and hat.
Background: Vishan Xandrythar bears the name of his grandfather, who was a wizard of great power and repute. His grandfather started the Xandrythar Academy, a school of wizardry, in the capital city. When Vishan was twelve, and a student at Xandrythar Academy, his grandfather went on an expedition in the Underdark, never to return.
Vishan left the school on his seventeenth birthday, the lure of adventure being too interesting to resist. Bearing his grandfather's name and family resemblance, though, is a little too much for him to deal with. So he's shaved his head and cloaked himself in grey, and poses as a travelling merchant. Calling himself the "Gray Trader", he's travelled as far and wide as he could. Vishan enjoys being on the move and meeting people. He desires to be a great wizard, and to live up to his grandfather's name. When he feels he has reached a certain level of power, he plans to use his name freely once again, and delve into the Underdark to find out what happened to his grandfather. Until then, however, he poses as nothing more than a travelling merchant, not a wizard.
Vishan has a great appreciation for the fairer sex, and has been known to go to great lengths to pursue them. He revels in his magic and freedom, but hopes to meet that special someone one day.
Vishan is travelling with his pet dog, Rufus. Rufus looks very much like a wolf, with silver and gray fur, and shining yellow eyes. Rufus is equipped with a gray pack saddle. Vishan has no particular talent for handling animals, but Rufus is trained as a guard dog, and is always ready to Defend Vishan, even if no threat is present. Rufus has served Vishan well on his travels so far, but knowing that safety comes in numbers, Vishan is looking for more companions to travel with.
Male Human Wizard 1
Alignment: Neutral
Patron Deity: Fharlanghn
Height: 5' 10''
Weight: 140 lbs
Hair: White (shaved)
Eyes: Silver
Age: 17
Str: 8 (-1) [0 points]
Dex: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Con: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Int: 16 (+3) [10 points]
Wis: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Cha: 10 (+0) [2 points]
Class and Racial Abilities: Medium Humanoid (human), base speed 30, Bonus feat, Extra Skill Points
Hit Dice: 1d4 + 2
HP: 6
AC: 12 (+2 Dex)
Init: +2 (+2 Dex)
Speed: 30 ft
Arcane Spell Failure: 0%
Saves:
Fortitude +4 [+0 base, +2 Con, +2 Great Fortitude]
Reflex +4 [+0 base, +2 Dex, +2 Lightning Reflexes]
Will +3 [+2 base, +1 Wis]
BAB: +0
Melee Atk: -1 (1d4-1, 19-20/x2, P or S, Dagger)
Ranged Atk: +2 (1d4-1, 19-20/x2, 10 r, P or S, Dagger)
Skills:
Ranks: 24
Concentration +6 [4 ranks, +2 Con]
Decipher Script +4 [1 ranks, +3 Int]
Knowledge (Arcana) +7 [4 ranks, +3 Int]
Knowledge (History) +4 [1 ranks, +3 Int]
Knowledge (Nobility and Royalty) +7 [4 ranks, +3 Int]
Knowledge (Planes) +7 [4 ranks, +3 Int]
Sense Motive +2 [1 cc ranks, +1 Wis]
Spellcraft +7 [4 ranks, +3 Int]
Feats:
Lightning Reflexes (Human)
Great Fortitude (Level 1)
Scribe Scroll (Wizard 1)
Languages: Common, Draconic, Elven, Undercommon
Spells Prepared:
Save DC +3
0th (3) - dancing lights, ghost sound, prestidigitation
1st (1+1) - charm person, magic missile
Spellbook:
0th - acid splash, arcane mark, dancing lights, daze, detect magic, detect poison, disrupt undead, flare, ghost sound, light, mage hand, mending, message, open/close, prestidigitation, ray of frost, read magic, resistance, touch of fatigue
1st - charm person, disguise self, expeditious retreat, identify, magic missile, shield
Equipment: (Starting Gold 75 gp)
Explorer's outfit [-, - lb]
Spell component pouch (in pockets) [5 gp, 2 lb]
Signal whistle (around neck) [8 sp, - lb]
Dagger (on belt) [2 gp, 1 lb]
Pouch (on belt) [1 gp, 1/2 lb]
- Spellbook [-, 3 lb]
- Caltrops [1 gp, 2 lb]
- Chalk [1 cp, - lb]
- Flint and steel [1 gp, - lb]
- Ink [8 gp, - lb]
- Inkpen [1 sp, - lb]
- Oil [1 sp, 1 lb] x3
- Parchment [2 sp, - lb]
- Money (see below) [-, 1 lb]
Value: 19.41 gp
Weight: 12.5 lb
Carrying Capacity: 26/53/80
Money
23 gp, 7 sp, 7 cp
"Rufus", pet Guard Dog [25 gp, - lb]
Medium Pack Saddle [5 gp, 3.75 lb]
- Bedroll [1 sp, 5 lb]
- Rations [5 sp, 1 lb]
- Torch [1 cp, 1 lb] x2
- Waterskin [1 gp, 4 lb]
Value: 31.62 gp
Weight: 15.75 lb
Carrying Capacity: 100/200/300
Appearance: Vishan is a thin man with intense silver eyes, perhaps the faint mark of celestial or dragon blood. His clothes are all of a subtle warm gray, and he keeps himself and his gear well-groomed and clean. His head is shaved clean, but his eyebrows are white (white hair is a mark of his family, along with his silver eyes). He wears fine gray clothing, covered with a gray cloak and hat.
Background: Vishan Xandrythar bears the name of his grandfather, who was a wizard of great power and repute. His grandfather started the Xandrythar Academy, a school of wizardry, in the capital city. When Vishan was twelve, and a student at Xandrythar Academy, his grandfather went on an expedition in the Underdark, never to return.
Vishan left the school on his seventeenth birthday, the lure of adventure being too interesting to resist. Bearing his grandfather's name and family resemblance, though, is a little too much for him to deal with. So he's shaved his head and cloaked himself in grey, and poses as a travelling merchant. Calling himself the "Gray Trader", he's travelled as far and wide as he could. Vishan enjoys being on the move and meeting people. He desires to be a great wizard, and to live up to his grandfather's name. When he feels he has reached a certain level of power, he plans to use his name freely once again, and delve into the Underdark to find out what happened to his grandfather. Until then, however, he poses as nothing more than a travelling merchant, not a wizard.
Vishan has a great appreciation for the fairer sex, and has been known to go to great lengths to pursue them. He revels in his magic and freedom, but hopes to meet that special someone one day.
Vishan is travelling with his pet dog, Rufus. Rufus looks very much like a wolf, with silver and gray fur, and shining yellow eyes. Rufus is equipped with a gray pack saddle. Vishan has no particular talent for handling animals, but Rufus is trained as a guard dog, and is always ready to Defend Vishan, even if no threat is present. Rufus has served Vishan well on his travels so far, but knowing that safety comes in numbers, Vishan is looking for more companions to travel with.
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