D20Dazza's PC Master Thread
- Thread starter D20Dazza
- Start date
Not in a game at the moment
Appearance, Personality, Background
[sblock]
Appearance: She wears a tight leather skullcap and a silvery, grey shirt of chain that she has blackened with armour black. A belt of leather encircles her waist, 4 slim leather pouches dangle from the wide, tooled hide – two on each side. A simple buckle of copper keeps the band tight. Across the chain shirt stretches a tight leather bandoleer, six small pouches adhere to the leather surface, each held closed with a brass stud for ease of opening. Upon her back rests a small, compact leather backpack, similarly blackened as the armour, and buckled and buttoned in brass.
Strapped to her left thigh is a scabbard that holds a short sword with a worn, leather handle. A short bow rests across her shoulders, a quiver of arrows strapped to her right thigh. Clutched tightly in her hands is a long, straight staff, one end shod in a copper sleeve the other end shod in iron.
Her skin is dark and dusty and her arms have been stained and tattooed with scarlet and blue inks. Her eyes are a deep emerald green and her hair hangs long and straight, although she often wears it tied back in a long, intricate braid.
Personality: Karooshka has always dreamt of being the greatest adventurer the world has ever known. She wants her name to be synonymous with adventuring and she’s out to prove that girls can do it just as well as guys. In fact, she strives to find different environments to test her skills in. She catalogues her life by the places she has been and people she has met. Much to the annoyance of some she peppers her conversation with “When I was in….” and “Well, did you know that in…”, making some think of her as a ‘know-it-all’. She loves fun and jokes and is slow to anger.
Background: Roo, for that is the name by which her friends call her, has always travelled. Unlike most elves Roo’s father carried her with him instead of leaving her at their home. Her father had gained the trust of a spice merchant and had become the overseer of one of the company’s trade routes. He regularly travelled the route, which crossed both land and sea, to see to the safety of the trade goods. Roo revelled in the freedom and grew to be strong willed and determined. After years of travelling with her father she entreated him for leave to explore on her own and he grudgingly ascended to her pleas.
Roo’s first stop, after leaving the protection of her father, was the fabled coastal city of Stormgate. That great metropolis that was permanently ringed by a raging storm that required specially trained navigators to pilot visitors through, whether travelling by land, sea or even air. She lived in Stormgate for a little less than a year, bunking in one of the Hadozee shantytowns that nestled amongst the great wharfs that jutted like rotting teeth in to the wild grey waters of the harbour. During her time in the city she teamed up with a halfling rogue called Nimblewit. He schooled her in the basics of stealth and exploration - the rudiments of traps and how to circumvent their dangers; how to distribute ones weight to walk more quietly; how to fold ones body in to the shadows to avoid detection; and, most importantly to Roo’s mind, how to manipulate magic to her advantage.
But it was not in Roo’s nature to linger in one place long and soon she was on her way, boarding a sleek caravel called Wave Skimmer. She worked aboard the ship for about six months, all the time honing her gymnastic abilities upon the rigging and rails of the small ship as well as her combat ability in the many encounters with pirates, and abominations of the Deep.
She landed in a small city called Freeport, the largest settlement in a chain of small islands that were at the crossroads of several shipping lanes. She was entranced by the sites and stayed in the city for almost a year, exploring the city and its surrounds as well as the small islands and reefs that dotted the area.
From Freeport she again returned to the mainland but this time to the eastern coast where she had not before been. It was here that she first met The Captain. She was impressed by his steely determination and his quiet resolve. He also provided a ready source of adventure for, although she knew not his agenda, she did know that he was well travelled and that his work took him to dangerous, interesting places – and this was something that greatly interested her. She journeyed with the man, and slowly fell in love with him – although that love was never returned. Roo has been in a black mood since The Captain’s death.
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Code:
[b]Name[/b] Keleeiroo “Roo” Longwillow
[b]Rogue 6[/b]
[i]Elf[/i]
[b]Alignment:[/b] Neutral Good
[b]Deity:[/b] Corellon Larethian
[b]Sex:[/b] Female
[b]Height:[/b] 5 ’6”
[b]Weight:[/b] 145 lbs
[b]Hair: [/b] Light caramel brown with flecks of red
[b]Skin:[/b] She has dusky skin and has dyed her arms a deep scarlet colour with swirls and runes of deep blue patterned across the tight skin.
[b]Eyes:[/b] Green
[b]Age:[/b] 126
[b]Str:[/b] 14 (+2) [6 points]
[b]Dex:[/b] 19 (+4) [10 points]
[b]Con:[/b] 10 (+0) [4 points]
[b]Int:[/b] 12 (+1) [4 points]
[b]Wis:[/b] 10 (+0) [2 points]
[b]Cha:[/b] 10 (+0) [2 points]
Racial: +2 Dex; -2 Con
Level: 1x Dex
[b]Racial Abilities[/b]
Immunity to sleep effects; +2 save versus enchantment spells or effects
Low-light vision
Weapon Proficiency (longsword, rapier, longbow, shortbow)
+2 Listen, Search, Spot
[b]Class Abilities[/b]
[i]Rogue[/i]
Prof (simple; hand crossbow; rapier, shortbow; short sword)
Prof (light; no shields)
Sneak Attack +3d6
Trapfinding
Evasion– avoid “half-damage” spell damage with successful Reflex save
Trap Sense +2
Uncanny Dodge – retain Dex modifier to AC in most circumstances
[b]Hit Dice:[/b] 6d6
[b]HP:[/b] 6+ =
[b]AC:[/b] 20 (+22*) (+4 armour; +4 Dex; +2 magic) Touch – 14 (16*), Flat-footed – 16 * Trap Sense – to avoid traps
[b]ACP:[/b] 0
[b]Init:[/b] +4 (+4 Dex)
[b]Speed:[/b] 30ft
[b]Saves:[/b]
Fortitude + 3 [+2 base, +1 Con]
Reflex + 9 (11*) [+5 base, +4 Dex] * Trap Sense – to avoid damage from traps
Will + 2 [+2 base]
[b]BAB/Grapple:[/b] +4/+6
[b]Melee Atk:[/b] +7 (+5/+5) Quarterstaff (1d6+3 (+2 (Str) +1 (magic))/1d6+2;x2)
[b]Melee Atk:[/b] +6 Short Sword (1d6+2 19-20/x2)
[b]Ranged Atk:[/b] +8 Shortbow (1d8; x3; 80’)
[b]Class Skills:[/b] 8+1x4=36; 8+1x5=45 total 81
Balance 10 (4 ranks; +4 Dex; +2 Synergy)
Climb 7 (9*) (5 ranks; +2 Str) * synergy from Use Rope when climbing with a rope
Decipher Script 6 (5 ranks; +1 Int)
Disable Device 9 (11*) (5 ranks; +4 Dex) *+2 masterwork thieves tools
Escape Artist 9 (11*)(5 ranks; +4 Dex) * synergy from Use Rope if check involves rope
Hide 10 (6 ranks; +4 Dex)
Jump 10 (6 ranks; +2 Str; +2 Synergy)
Listen 5 (3 ranks; +0 Wis; +2 racial)
Move Silently 10 (6 ranks; +4 Dex)
Open Lock 10 (12*) (6 ranks; +4 Dex) *+2 masterwork thieves tools
Search 13 (7 ranks; +4 Dex; +2 Racial)
Spot 8 (6 ranks; +0 Wis; +2 Racial)
Tumble 11 (5 ranks; +4 Dex; +2 Synergy)
Use Magic Device 7 (9*) (7 ranks)* synergy from Decipher Script when using scrolls
Use Rope 9 (11*) (5 ranks; +4 Dex) * synergy from Escape Artist with checks that involve bindings
[b]Feats:[/b]
1/3/6
Two-weapon fighting
Tactile Trapsmith (Cadv) – Use Dex instead of Int for Search and Disable Device
Combat Expertise
[b]Languages:[/b] Common; Elven; Draconic
[b][u]Equipment[/u][/b]
[I]carrying capacity:[/I] 58/116/175
[b][i]Wearing or carrying at hand[/i][/b]
[b]+2 Mithril Chain Shirt[/b] – 5250gp (12.5lbs) – [I]ACP 0 Max Dex +6 10% Magic fail[/I]
[b]+1/+1 quarterstaff – 4600gp (4lb)
[b]Backpack[/b] – 2gp (2lb)
[b]Potion Bandoleer[/b] – 6 ‘slots’; each pouch reinforced with an iron sheath – 30gp (8lbs)
[b]Wand Belt[/b] – 2 long, slender leather pouches hang either side – 15gp (3lbs)
[b]Shortbow[/b] – 30gp (2lb)
[b]40 Arrows [/b] – 2gp (6lb)
[b]Short Sword[/b] – 10gp (2lb)
[b][i]In or on containers[/i][/b]
[b]2 Potions of Cats Grace[/b] – 600gp
[b]Potion of Invisibility[/b] – 300gp
[b]Potion of Darkvision[/b] – 300gp
[b]wand of magic missiles[/b] – 750gp (50 charges)
[b]wand of cure light wounds[/b] – 750gp (50 charges)
[b]Waterskin[/b] – 1gp (4 lbs)
[b]Flint and Steel[/b] – 1 gp (--)
[b]Whetstone[/b] - 2cp (1lb)
[b]2 Sunrods[/b] - 4gp (2lb)
[b]Explorers Outfit[/b] – 10gp (8lb)
[b]masterwork thieves tools[/b] - 100gp (2lb)
Total weight carried – 56.5 lbs, light load.
[b]Money[/b]
244-gp 10-sp 1-cp
~~~~~[sblock]
Appearance: She wears a tight leather skullcap and a silvery, grey shirt of chain that she has blackened with armour black. A belt of leather encircles her waist, 4 slim leather pouches dangle from the wide, tooled hide – two on each side. A simple buckle of copper keeps the band tight. Across the chain shirt stretches a tight leather bandoleer, six small pouches adhere to the leather surface, each held closed with a brass stud for ease of opening. Upon her back rests a small, compact leather backpack, similarly blackened as the armour, and buckled and buttoned in brass.
Strapped to her left thigh is a scabbard that holds a short sword with a worn, leather handle. A short bow rests across her shoulders, a quiver of arrows strapped to her right thigh. Clutched tightly in her hands is a long, straight staff, one end shod in a copper sleeve the other end shod in iron.
Her skin is dark and dusty and her arms have been stained and tattooed with scarlet and blue inks. Her eyes are a deep emerald green and her hair hangs long and straight, although she often wears it tied back in a long, intricate braid.
Personality: Karooshka has always dreamt of being the greatest adventurer the world has ever known. She wants her name to be synonymous with adventuring and she’s out to prove that girls can do it just as well as guys. In fact, she strives to find different environments to test her skills in. She catalogues her life by the places she has been and people she has met. Much to the annoyance of some she peppers her conversation with “When I was in….” and “Well, did you know that in…”, making some think of her as a ‘know-it-all’. She loves fun and jokes and is slow to anger.
Background: Roo, for that is the name by which her friends call her, has always travelled. Unlike most elves Roo’s father carried her with him instead of leaving her at their home. Her father had gained the trust of a spice merchant and had become the overseer of one of the company’s trade routes. He regularly travelled the route, which crossed both land and sea, to see to the safety of the trade goods. Roo revelled in the freedom and grew to be strong willed and determined. After years of travelling with her father she entreated him for leave to explore on her own and he grudgingly ascended to her pleas.
Roo’s first stop, after leaving the protection of her father, was the fabled coastal city of Stormgate. That great metropolis that was permanently ringed by a raging storm that required specially trained navigators to pilot visitors through, whether travelling by land, sea or even air. She lived in Stormgate for a little less than a year, bunking in one of the Hadozee shantytowns that nestled amongst the great wharfs that jutted like rotting teeth in to the wild grey waters of the harbour. During her time in the city she teamed up with a halfling rogue called Nimblewit. He schooled her in the basics of stealth and exploration - the rudiments of traps and how to circumvent their dangers; how to distribute ones weight to walk more quietly; how to fold ones body in to the shadows to avoid detection; and, most importantly to Roo’s mind, how to manipulate magic to her advantage.
But it was not in Roo’s nature to linger in one place long and soon she was on her way, boarding a sleek caravel called Wave Skimmer. She worked aboard the ship for about six months, all the time honing her gymnastic abilities upon the rigging and rails of the small ship as well as her combat ability in the many encounters with pirates, and abominations of the Deep.
She landed in a small city called Freeport, the largest settlement in a chain of small islands that were at the crossroads of several shipping lanes. She was entranced by the sites and stayed in the city for almost a year, exploring the city and its surrounds as well as the small islands and reefs that dotted the area.
From Freeport she again returned to the mainland but this time to the eastern coast where she had not before been. It was here that she first met The Captain. She was impressed by his steely determination and his quiet resolve. He also provided a ready source of adventure for, although she knew not his agenda, she did know that he was well travelled and that his work took him to dangerous, interesting places – and this was something that greatly interested her. She journeyed with the man, and slowly fell in love with him – although that love was never returned. Roo has been in a black mood since The Captain’s death.
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Not in a game at the moment
Spells and Turning
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1st Level
Rebuke Undead:
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~~~~~
Appearance:
Personality:
Background:
Code:
[b]Swoopaid A.K.A Swaid[/b]
[b]Fighter 1/Cleric 6/Combat Medic 5[/b]
[i]Raptorian Monstrous Humanoid[/i]
[b]Place of Origin:[/b] Elemental Plane of Air
[b]Alignment:[/b] Lawful Neutral
[b]Deity:[/b] Kithin (domains Death and Fire)
[b]Sex:[/b] Male
[b]Height:[/b] 5’6”
[b]Weight:[/b] 120 lbs
[b]Feathers: [/b] black and white
[b]Eyes:[/b] Yellow
[b]Age:[/b] 28 (at a guess – can’t recall his birthday, he feels 28)
[b]Str:[/b] 12 (+1) [4 points]
[b]Dex:[/b] 18 (+2) [6 points] Gloves of Dex
[b]Con:[/b] 13 (+1) [5 points]
[b]Int:[/b] 10 (+0) [2 points]
[b]Wis:[/b] 22 (+6) [13 points] Periapt of Wisdom +2
[b]Cha:[/b] 10 (+0) [2 points]
Level: 3xWis
[b]Racial Abilities[/b]
+10 Jump
Gliding 40’ (average)
Flight 40’ (average)
Dive attack
Pact with the Wind Lords
Unerring Direction
Low-light Vision
Weapon Familiarity (Foot bow)
+2 Climb and Spot
[b]Class Abilities[/b]
[i]Cleric[/i]
Rebuke Undead
Spells
[I]Combat Medic[/I]
Healing Kicker: imbue healing spells with a secondary effect, 7/day, effect = Sanctuary; Reflex; Aid
Defensive Casting: Class level bonus to Concentration Checks made to cast defensively
Field Healer: Make a heal check as a move action and can take 10 even when stressed or distracted
Mobility
Evasion
Spontaneous Heal
Spells
[b]Hit Dice:[/b] 1d10; 6d8, 5d6
[b]HP:[/b] 10+36+20+12 (con) = 78
[b]AC:[/b] 26 (+4 Dex, + 8 Mithril Chain Shirt; +2 Ring Force Shield; +2 Ring Pro) Touch – 16, Flat-footed – 22
[b]ACP:[/b] 0
[b]Init:[/b] +4 (+4 Dex)
[b]Speed:[/b] 30ft/fly 40ft (average)
[b]Saves:[/b]
Fortitude + 9 [+8 base, +1 Con]
Reflex + 10 [+6 base, +4 Dex]
Will 12 [+6 base, +6 Wis]
[b]BAB/Grapple:[/b] +7/+2 /+8
[b]Melee Atk:[/b] +8 Spear (1d8+3;x3)
[b]Ranged Atk:[/b] +11 Spear (1d8+3 x3; 20')
[b]Ranged Atk:[/b] + 13 Footbow (1d8; x3; 110’)
[b]Class Skills:[/b]
Climb 5 (2 ranks; +1 Str; +2 racial)
Concentration 12 (8 ranks; +1 Con; +3 focus)
Heal 15 (9 ranks; +6 Wis)
Jump 11 (0 ranks; +1 Str; +10 racial)
Spellcraft 8 (8 ranks; +0 Int)
Spot 8 (+6 Wis; +2 racial)
[b]Feats:[/b]
Fly By Attack
Augment Healing (C.Div ) - +2 HPs per spell level
Combat Casting
Dodge
Hover
Skill Focus (Concentration) (9th)
[b]Languages:[/b] Common; Tuilvilanuue
[b][u]Equipment[/u][/b]
[b][i]Wearing or carrying at hand[/i][/b]
[b]+4 Mithril Chain Shirt[/b] – 17100gp (25lbs)
[b]Ring of Force Shield[/b] – 8500gp
[b]Ring of Protection +2[/b]
[b]Gloves of Dex +4[/b] – 16000gp
[b]Periapt of Wisdom +2[/b] – 4000gp
[b]Bag of Holding[/b] – 2500gp
[b]Tattoo of Amity[/b]
[b][i]In or on containers[/i][/b]
[I]Bag of Holding Type 1 (250lbs)[/I]
[b]+1 Long Spear[/b] – 2305gp (9lbs)
[b]+2 Footbow[/b] - 8450gp (3 lb)
[b]50 Arrows Frost[/b] - 2303gp (8 lb)
[b]Staff of Healing[/b] – 27750gp (6lb)
[b]10 Blessed Bandages[/b] – 100gp (HofB)
[b]Everlasting Rations[/b] – 350gp (HofB)
[b]Potion of Owls Wisdom[/b] – 300gp
[b]Potion of Eagles Splendour[/b] – 900gp
[b] 2 Scrolls of Darkvision[/b] – 750gp
[b]Waterskin[/b] – 1gp (4 lbs)
[b]Flint and Steel[/b] – 1 gp (--)
[b]Whetstone[/b] - 2cp (1lb)
[b]5 Sunrods[/b] - 10gp (10lb)
[b]Bedroll[/b] - 1sp (5lb)
[b]6 Healers Kits[/b] – 300gp (6lbs)
Total weight carried – 25 + whatever is drawn from the Bag of Holding lbs, light load.
[b]Money[/b]
70 gp sp cpSpells and Turning
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1st Level
Rebuke Undead:
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~~~~~
Appearance:
Personality:
Background:
Metropolis - World in Waiting (ch1), Slaves to the City (ch2)
Appearance
Ghost Hound is albino, his hair is jaggedly cut to shoulder length. His features are very angular, giving him the appearance of a predatory wolf. His teeth are clean and straight. He wears a light leather trench coat, high leather boots, dark sharkskin gloves, and a dark fur felt grosgrain
Personality
Ghost Hound is bright and quick-witted, his appearance can be a little confronting but he is a genuinely warm person. He is trusting and tries to be helpful. He feels particularly benevolent towards those in the lower (or lowest) socio economic bracket.
Background
Hound is a journalist and investigator. He rails against the establishment and strives for a better place for the down trodden. More often than not he finds his investigations leave him waist deep in the paranormal. He works for a local rag, a self financed operation run by an ideological hard arsed half orc called Burke. Occasionally, to supplement his income, he hires his investigative skills out but, the case has to pique his interest - a cheater stalker his is not.
He was born in The Apartments, 7 tall stone spires with hundreds of floors and a maze of rooms, corridors and staircases. All interconnected by bridges, tunnels and magical portals. All of the races of Metropolis have legends regarding the creation of The Apartments and no two of those legends is the same. The only thing that is common in the legends is the fact that somewhere in the vertical labyrinth something is hidden. Whether that something is benevolent or malign is unknown but every race has representatives searching for whatever it is. The Apartments are a constant skirmish, a war of attrition. Sure, a race may hold a particular series of rooms or even a floor or two for anywhere from weeks to months. In fact the Killi-kelli-hek, a barbaric, flesh-eating breed of dwarf, have inhabited the same three floors in one of the towers for the last 73 years. Recently the Killi-kelli-hek have become agitated and expansionist. Where as before they would hunt in small groups for meats and goods they are now moving through The Apartments in greater numbers. Hound believes that someone is using the Killi-kelli-hek to further their own ends, there is no other logical reason why they would all of a sudden become more aggressive - is there?
Hound lost his parents, both Wayfinders, at an early age. Fortuitously for him the first 'people' to wander past the weeping child who sat beside the bodies of his parents were not frenetic nor were they ritualistic, in fact they weren't even hungry. They were a posse of 3 ghouls. The small child, knowing no better, stood and waited. The ghouls, Grym, Gryme, and Grynn, were amazed that the boy had not run screaming from them, he was too young to realise the predicament he was in (and being elven he was immune to their paralytic touch). The ghouls, being not foolish and quite intelligent, decided that they could use the small child. They named him Hound because of the way he trailed after them. The ghouls were careful to ensure that they sheltered their 'child' from the more base, violent, reprehensible side of their nature. The ghouls tutored the boy, taught him how to survive and introduced him to some of the more questionable talents that he uses in his investigations today. Eventually though the gig was up. Hound discovered their true nature and only just made it away from them alive. In fact if not for the actions of Gryme, who had spent the most time teaching Hound, he would surely have been killed. This deception forged Hound into the truth seeker that he is.
Hound supposes that the reason so many of his cases end up being paranormal is because of his unusual upbringing, maybe somehow his soul resonates to the pulse of the supernatural.
Hound has been investigating a story involving biomagical engineering on indentured workers on some of the sewer farms. He believes that these biofarms are a front for duplicitous 'God' dealings. The farms he has been investigating abut a religious sanctuary dedicated to the mysterious deity known as Hess Ne-el Il'ithuk . The followers of this somewhat questionable deity have a penchant for violence and experimentation. They refer to Hess Ne-el Il'ithuk as 'God' and anyone daring to invoke another deity or call 'God' by his actual name on their patch is dealt with quickly, brutally and without mercy.
Game Notes
[sblock]
The Apartments
The Apartments, 7 tall stone spires with hundreds of floors and a maze of rooms, corridors and staircases. All interconnected by bridges, tunnels and magical portals. All of the races of Metropolis have legends regarding the creation of The Apartments and no two of those legends is the same. The only thing that is common in the legends is the fact that somewhere in the vertical labyrinth something is hidden. Whether that something is benevolent or malign is unknown but every race has representatives searching for whatever it is. The Apartments are a constant skirmish, a war of attrition. Sure, a race may hold a particular series of rooms or even a floor or two for anywhere from weeks to months. In fact the Killi-kelli-hek, a barbaric, flesh-eating breed of dwarf, have inhabited the same three floors in one of the towers for the last 73 years. Recently the Killi-kelli-hek have become agitated and expansionist. Where as before they would hunt in small groups for meats and goods they are now moving through The Apartments in greater numbers.
The Apartments are sort of dungeon like, although the adversaries are various street gangs. Do you know the movie The Warriors? That movie could happen in The Apartments. There are hundreds of gangs/factions/cults/cabals etc operating in there plus a bevy of treasure hunters. These organisations are based along racial, political, cultural, religious, fun, and plain old survival lines. The Apartments are very fluid with old gangs dieing off and new ones forming constantly. The gangs are always fighting.
Not all the gangs are looking for the 'holy grail' and not all inhabitants of The Apartments are gang members. The Wayfinders are nomadic, they live a life running from the gangs and treasure hunters. They are not an organisation but are the refuse of the spires that are forced to flee or die. They are called the Wayfinders as they always seem to find a new, unexplored section of The Apartments. It's as though the buildings are making new tunnels, staircases, rooms, arches, bridges etc to assist the flight of the Wayfinders.
There are several neutral areas in the spires where entrepreneurs have set up operations, everything from flea markets to the black market. Almost anything (except that damn artifact) can be found somewhere in The Apartments. The trick is finding where it is being sold.
Zimmerman
Mr Zimmerman is one of the many merchants that are currently partaking of the newest wealthy fad, Family Trading. Purchasing ones own family, or even selling them, in order to fit a social niche has risen in popularity in the past year. Apparently Mr Zimmerman contacted one of the dealers in the Apartments that kidnap street children in order to train them and sell them to wealthy buyers. Mr Zimmerman purchased Stephanie from a black market racketeer called Thylon, .
His (current?) daughter is Stephanie.
Thylon
Thylon is a ruthless trader and gang leader located in the Dyllathan Buildings. He is willing to take advantage of any situation to sell what the desperate or needy require. He sold his own mother to organ farmers years ago, then purchased several of her body parts back under a third party, then sold them a second time for a substantial profit.
Currently his specialty is Family Trading, a fashionable pastime that has picked up in the last year. Due to the chaotic breeding patterns of the poorer areas of town, as well as the recent craze of nobility slumming that ended under a decade ago (Lord Brant found himself up to his ears in visitors when his peasant 'pals' discovered who his was and where he lived) it was found that several children were being born to illegitimate fathers that could be traced back to nobility.
Seeing a possible commodity, certain merchant princes purchased a group of children, then paid minor clergymen and wizards to authenticate the birthright, and finally formally adopted them to stake claim to another man's legacy. Showing off such children, and trading them for vast amounts of money, has now become a craze that has blown out of control, and even to own the third son of a merchant prince's cousin is worth something in the world of politics, if you know how to use it of course.
The Dyllathan buildings
are a collection of small spires attached to a central tower that is located on the more hospitable sides of the Apartments, closest to the docks to allow outsiders to trade for whatever the ward chooses to export at that moment. It is rumoured that the Dyllathan building was once home to a Dwarven Warlord by the name of Iobold that attempted to force the Apartments to fall under his rule by 'Right of Might'. Iobold went missing several weeks into his campaign, some say he got lost in the network of tunnels and corridors, others say that the buildings chose to swallow him up rather than conform to this method of Law.
The Hunters
A small symbol of a sword jutting from the bowels of a dog signifies the Hunters. The Hunters were once a powerful gang of hooligans, thieves and confidence men that slowly grew to establish a large power base within The Apartments. The entire group gathered to oust a local crime lord several years ago, but they had failed to recognize the power that the man held. His magic slew them all too swiftly, and he brought their souls back to their bodies, locking them in eternal undeath. After years of servitude, the necromancer disappeared, allowing what was left of the gang to resume their old haunts, but now their numbers and power had waned significantly.
Bremmen duGaur
Bremmen duGuar was once a heavy in the area, selling insurance to established businesses and ridding the Ivory Markets of 'unwanted traders'. Seems that several years ago he hooked up with one of the many religions the dots the streets of Metropolis, the Yellow Cult, and prospered in his business dealings. Now it seems that Bremmen was doing their work for them, he 'oversees' several stalls in the Ivory Markets that deal with herbal extracts, organ sales, and temporal regression*.
*It seems that some people will believe in anything to stay young and beautiful. Temporal Regression is a process that people with the right money can attempt, though the more educated know that it is folly. Merchants deal in Elf blood, injecting it into the veins of the customer in order to grant a small measure of Immortality. As long as people keep getting the treatments, they would live forever. Or so they say.
The Yellow Cult
Ghost had heard of this 'Yellow Cult' before though, crossing them in his dealings investigating the followers of Hess Ne-el Il'ithuk. The Yellow Cult openly provided help to the sick and needy of the streets, but rumour was that they cultivated the organs of the sick and dying for their bio-magical experiments.
Phesen
There are many infusions created by the sewer shamans of Metropolis that rarely see the light of day, mainly due to the fact that they are powerful enough to draw the attention of unscrupulous merchants from the surface. Phesen is a more advanced fusion, usually only created my masters of the art. It combines the magic within two minor spells to assist the consumer, that of cure light wounds and lesser restoration.
[/sblock]
Code:
Ghost Hound
Elf Bard 4 (XP 6,000) Alignment: CG
Height: 5'2" Weight: 93lbs. Age: 130
hair: white eyes: red skin: white
Region of Origin: The Apartments (Metropolis)
STR 8 -1 (0 point)
DEX 16 +3 (6 point +2 racial)
CON 10 (4 point -2 racial)
INT 14 +2 (6 point)
WIS 10 (2 point)
CHA 17 +3 (10 point, +1 4th level)
HP: 22
Init: +3
BAB/Grapple: +3/+2
Speed: 30ft
+1 Light Mace +7 (1d6+1 damage, X2)
Composite Long Bow +6 (1d8, X3, 110') - 20 Arrows
Dagger +6 (1d4, 19-20/X2)
ACP: 0
AC: 14 (+1 Bracers Armour, +3 Dec)
Touch/Flatfooted: 14/11
Fort: +2
Ref: +8
Will: +5 (+2 vs enchantment spells and spell like abilities and effects)
+2 versus saves against all Undead
Skills:
Bluff 8 (5 ranks, +3 DEX)
Concentration 3 (3 ranks, +0 CON)
Decipher Script 4 (2 ranks, +2 INT)
Diplomacy 7 (4 ranks, +3 CHA)
Gather Information 8 (5 ranks, +3 CHA)
Knowledge (religion) 5 (3 ranks, +2 INT)
Knowledge (local) 5 (3 ranks, +2 INT)
Knowledge (arcana) 5 (3 ranks, +2 INT)
Listen 4 (2 ranks, +0 WIS, +2 Racial)
Perform (oratory) 10 (7 ranks, +3 CHA)
Perform (sing) 6 (3 ranks, +3 CHA)
Profession (journalist) 2 (2 ranks, +0 WIS)
Search 4 (+2 INT, +2 Racial)
Sense Motive 5 (5 ranks, +0 WIS)
Sleight of Hand 5 (2 ranks, +3 DEX)
Spellcraft 9 (7 ranks, +2 INT)
Spot 2 (+0 WIS, +2 Racial)
Languages: Common, Elf, Draconic, Goblin
Feats:
Unquenchable Flame of Life (+2 saves vs Undead - Libris Mortis)
Weapon Finesse
Abilities:
Racial
Immune to magical sleep effects
Low light vision
Racial Weapon Prof - long sword, rapier, longbow, short bow
Bard
Bardic Music
Bardic Knowledge
Counter Song
Fascinate
Inspire Courage +1
Inspire Confidence
Spells Day: (3, 2+1, 0+1)
1-lvl spells (DC13)
Detect Magic
Message
Daze
Lullaby
Flare
Read Magic
2-lvl spells (Dc14)
Cause Fear
Gryme's Hideous Laughter
Hypnotism
3-lvl spells (DC15)
Scare
Locate Object
Items:
2 potions cure light wounds (150gp)
Cloak Resistance +1 (1,000gp)
Bracers Armour +1 (1,000gp)
Dust Tracelessness (250gp)
Universal Solvent (50gp)
+1 light mace (2,305gp)
Composite Long Bow
20 Arrows
Dagger
card: "You have been cordially invited to celebrate the 8th birthday of Ms. Stephanie Zimmerman"
2 x Phesen (cure light wounds and restoration fx)
Utility Belt
-Flask
-Bullseye Lantern
-1 pint oil
-Scroll case
--5 sheets paper
--10 sheets parchment
Belt Pouch
-5 pieces chalk
-flint and steel
-2 vials ink
-2 ink pens
-small steel mirror
Cloak, leather
-Masterwork manacles (cloak pocket)
-Empty Sack (cloak pocket)
Signal whistle (leather throng around neck)
Signet Ring
Dark lensed glasses
Total wt: 20.5 lbs.
Monies: 30gp, 8sp, 2cpAppearance
Ghost Hound is albino, his hair is jaggedly cut to shoulder length. His features are very angular, giving him the appearance of a predatory wolf. His teeth are clean and straight. He wears a light leather trench coat, high leather boots, dark sharkskin gloves, and a dark fur felt grosgrain
Personality
Ghost Hound is bright and quick-witted, his appearance can be a little confronting but he is a genuinely warm person. He is trusting and tries to be helpful. He feels particularly benevolent towards those in the lower (or lowest) socio economic bracket.
Background
Hound is a journalist and investigator. He rails against the establishment and strives for a better place for the down trodden. More often than not he finds his investigations leave him waist deep in the paranormal. He works for a local rag, a self financed operation run by an ideological hard arsed half orc called Burke. Occasionally, to supplement his income, he hires his investigative skills out but, the case has to pique his interest - a cheater stalker his is not.
He was born in The Apartments, 7 tall stone spires with hundreds of floors and a maze of rooms, corridors and staircases. All interconnected by bridges, tunnels and magical portals. All of the races of Metropolis have legends regarding the creation of The Apartments and no two of those legends is the same. The only thing that is common in the legends is the fact that somewhere in the vertical labyrinth something is hidden. Whether that something is benevolent or malign is unknown but every race has representatives searching for whatever it is. The Apartments are a constant skirmish, a war of attrition. Sure, a race may hold a particular series of rooms or even a floor or two for anywhere from weeks to months. In fact the Killi-kelli-hek, a barbaric, flesh-eating breed of dwarf, have inhabited the same three floors in one of the towers for the last 73 years. Recently the Killi-kelli-hek have become agitated and expansionist. Where as before they would hunt in small groups for meats and goods they are now moving through The Apartments in greater numbers. Hound believes that someone is using the Killi-kelli-hek to further their own ends, there is no other logical reason why they would all of a sudden become more aggressive - is there?
Hound lost his parents, both Wayfinders, at an early age. Fortuitously for him the first 'people' to wander past the weeping child who sat beside the bodies of his parents were not frenetic nor were they ritualistic, in fact they weren't even hungry. They were a posse of 3 ghouls. The small child, knowing no better, stood and waited. The ghouls, Grym, Gryme, and Grynn, were amazed that the boy had not run screaming from them, he was too young to realise the predicament he was in (and being elven he was immune to their paralytic touch). The ghouls, being not foolish and quite intelligent, decided that they could use the small child. They named him Hound because of the way he trailed after them. The ghouls were careful to ensure that they sheltered their 'child' from the more base, violent, reprehensible side of their nature. The ghouls tutored the boy, taught him how to survive and introduced him to some of the more questionable talents that he uses in his investigations today. Eventually though the gig was up. Hound discovered their true nature and only just made it away from them alive. In fact if not for the actions of Gryme, who had spent the most time teaching Hound, he would surely have been killed. This deception forged Hound into the truth seeker that he is.
Hound supposes that the reason so many of his cases end up being paranormal is because of his unusual upbringing, maybe somehow his soul resonates to the pulse of the supernatural.
Hound has been investigating a story involving biomagical engineering on indentured workers on some of the sewer farms. He believes that these biofarms are a front for duplicitous 'God' dealings. The farms he has been investigating abut a religious sanctuary dedicated to the mysterious deity known as Hess Ne-el Il'ithuk . The followers of this somewhat questionable deity have a penchant for violence and experimentation. They refer to Hess Ne-el Il'ithuk as 'God' and anyone daring to invoke another deity or call 'God' by his actual name on their patch is dealt with quickly, brutally and without mercy.
Game Notes
[sblock]
The Apartments
The Apartments, 7 tall stone spires with hundreds of floors and a maze of rooms, corridors and staircases. All interconnected by bridges, tunnels and magical portals. All of the races of Metropolis have legends regarding the creation of The Apartments and no two of those legends is the same. The only thing that is common in the legends is the fact that somewhere in the vertical labyrinth something is hidden. Whether that something is benevolent or malign is unknown but every race has representatives searching for whatever it is. The Apartments are a constant skirmish, a war of attrition. Sure, a race may hold a particular series of rooms or even a floor or two for anywhere from weeks to months. In fact the Killi-kelli-hek, a barbaric, flesh-eating breed of dwarf, have inhabited the same three floors in one of the towers for the last 73 years. Recently the Killi-kelli-hek have become agitated and expansionist. Where as before they would hunt in small groups for meats and goods they are now moving through The Apartments in greater numbers.
The Apartments are sort of dungeon like, although the adversaries are various street gangs. Do you know the movie The Warriors? That movie could happen in The Apartments. There are hundreds of gangs/factions/cults/cabals etc operating in there plus a bevy of treasure hunters. These organisations are based along racial, political, cultural, religious, fun, and plain old survival lines. The Apartments are very fluid with old gangs dieing off and new ones forming constantly. The gangs are always fighting.
Not all the gangs are looking for the 'holy grail' and not all inhabitants of The Apartments are gang members. The Wayfinders are nomadic, they live a life running from the gangs and treasure hunters. They are not an organisation but are the refuse of the spires that are forced to flee or die. They are called the Wayfinders as they always seem to find a new, unexplored section of The Apartments. It's as though the buildings are making new tunnels, staircases, rooms, arches, bridges etc to assist the flight of the Wayfinders.
There are several neutral areas in the spires where entrepreneurs have set up operations, everything from flea markets to the black market. Almost anything (except that damn artifact) can be found somewhere in The Apartments. The trick is finding where it is being sold.
Zimmerman
Mr Zimmerman is one of the many merchants that are currently partaking of the newest wealthy fad, Family Trading. Purchasing ones own family, or even selling them, in order to fit a social niche has risen in popularity in the past year. Apparently Mr Zimmerman contacted one of the dealers in the Apartments that kidnap street children in order to train them and sell them to wealthy buyers. Mr Zimmerman purchased Stephanie from a black market racketeer called Thylon, .
His (current?) daughter is Stephanie.
Thylon
Thylon is a ruthless trader and gang leader located in the Dyllathan Buildings. He is willing to take advantage of any situation to sell what the desperate or needy require. He sold his own mother to organ farmers years ago, then purchased several of her body parts back under a third party, then sold them a second time for a substantial profit.
Currently his specialty is Family Trading, a fashionable pastime that has picked up in the last year. Due to the chaotic breeding patterns of the poorer areas of town, as well as the recent craze of nobility slumming that ended under a decade ago (Lord Brant found himself up to his ears in visitors when his peasant 'pals' discovered who his was and where he lived) it was found that several children were being born to illegitimate fathers that could be traced back to nobility.
Seeing a possible commodity, certain merchant princes purchased a group of children, then paid minor clergymen and wizards to authenticate the birthright, and finally formally adopted them to stake claim to another man's legacy. Showing off such children, and trading them for vast amounts of money, has now become a craze that has blown out of control, and even to own the third son of a merchant prince's cousin is worth something in the world of politics, if you know how to use it of course.
The Dyllathan buildings
are a collection of small spires attached to a central tower that is located on the more hospitable sides of the Apartments, closest to the docks to allow outsiders to trade for whatever the ward chooses to export at that moment. It is rumoured that the Dyllathan building was once home to a Dwarven Warlord by the name of Iobold that attempted to force the Apartments to fall under his rule by 'Right of Might'. Iobold went missing several weeks into his campaign, some say he got lost in the network of tunnels and corridors, others say that the buildings chose to swallow him up rather than conform to this method of Law.
The Hunters
A small symbol of a sword jutting from the bowels of a dog signifies the Hunters. The Hunters were once a powerful gang of hooligans, thieves and confidence men that slowly grew to establish a large power base within The Apartments. The entire group gathered to oust a local crime lord several years ago, but they had failed to recognize the power that the man held. His magic slew them all too swiftly, and he brought their souls back to their bodies, locking them in eternal undeath. After years of servitude, the necromancer disappeared, allowing what was left of the gang to resume their old haunts, but now their numbers and power had waned significantly.
Bremmen duGaur
Bremmen duGuar was once a heavy in the area, selling insurance to established businesses and ridding the Ivory Markets of 'unwanted traders'. Seems that several years ago he hooked up with one of the many religions the dots the streets of Metropolis, the Yellow Cult, and prospered in his business dealings. Now it seems that Bremmen was doing their work for them, he 'oversees' several stalls in the Ivory Markets that deal with herbal extracts, organ sales, and temporal regression*.
*It seems that some people will believe in anything to stay young and beautiful. Temporal Regression is a process that people with the right money can attempt, though the more educated know that it is folly. Merchants deal in Elf blood, injecting it into the veins of the customer in order to grant a small measure of Immortality. As long as people keep getting the treatments, they would live forever. Or so they say.
The Yellow Cult
Ghost had heard of this 'Yellow Cult' before though, crossing them in his dealings investigating the followers of Hess Ne-el Il'ithuk. The Yellow Cult openly provided help to the sick and needy of the streets, but rumour was that they cultivated the organs of the sick and dying for their bio-magical experiments.
Phesen
There are many infusions created by the sewer shamans of Metropolis that rarely see the light of day, mainly due to the fact that they are powerful enough to draw the attention of unscrupulous merchants from the surface. Phesen is a more advanced fusion, usually only created my masters of the art. It combines the magic within two minor spells to assist the consumer, that of cure light wounds and lesser restoration.
[/sblock]
Shadows Descending
Background:Grymsnarl padded silently through the dense undergrowth sniffing at the air as he moved. There it was again, that faint smell of something not right, something tainted, something that had upset the natural balance. He stopped and listened, his ears perking up and twitching left and right ready to detect the slightest sound, before again sliding quietly through the brush and continuing the hunt.
He and his pack had been on the trail of whatever abomination was stalking the forest for almost a week now and, slowly but surely, the enemy had got the upper hand. As each day had passed another of the pack had succumbed to the wiles of the predator, another of his family had died a gruesome, painful death. It was always the same; the pack made 'camp' together and then during the evening one of the number would disappear. The disappearance would shortly be followed by a howl of pain and then, the inevitable; the remaining pack members would find the body, or what remained. Each body had been completely skinned. It was almost as if someone had turned his pack mates inside out - not a hair was found and the process was completed less than a minute after the howl had broken the evenings silence.
Grymsnarl was the only one of his pack remaining, and he was ashamed to admit that he was scared. His adversary was getting closer to human lands and that meant trouble. He knew that if he didn't soon close with the enemy that his task would become so much more difficult. If he had to enter a human city it would become almost impossible - but he would not rest, he would have his vengeance.
"OWWWWWWWWWW", he had been distracted, deep in thought when the trap snapped shut around his right leg. The blades of the wicked device crushed his leg, almost severing it. Grymsnarl dropped to the ground howling in pain, his lifeblood slowly seeping into the ground. Darkness engulfed his senses.
\m/o0o\m/
The sharp tang of pinesap awoke him from a dream. He blinked his eyes and yawned. He was lying in the grass beneath a great pine, it's boughs spreading peacefully overhead, the bright sun shining through the leaves and dappling his dark fur with shadows. Beside him was a freshly slaughtered rabbit, a small hole had been dug amongst the tree roots and filled with sweet smelling water. He stood slowly and shook his head "What had happened" he wondered, "where was the pack?" and then he slumped back to the ground as the memories came crashing back upon him.
For days he lost the will to live, he never saw who had tended his wound, which was completely healed with only a ring of furless skin showing where the teeth of the vicious trap had torn his leg apart. But soon the fire for vengeance had been reignited and Grymsnarl once again took up the hunt. Which, unfortunately, led him straight to the great free city of the humans - to Mokmael.
\m/o0o\m/
The city confused Grymsnarl; it was a cacophony of sound and smells that constantly assailed his senses. He quickly lost track of the enemies trail, which had become quite tough to follow after the time he had spent convalescing in any event.
He fell into the habit of patrolling the streets of Mokmael looking for any sign of his enemy. He circled the city once every couple of days sniffing for any trace, the scent of his opponent indelibly etched into his mind forever. It was lucky for Grymsnarl that the city was home to many a stray hound and he was able to blend in easily, adapting and learning to live on the streets.
For two years now Grymsnarl has roamed the streets of Mokmael, searching for any sign of the enemy. Occasionally he will get a lead but it has all proven to no avail. But, he will not give up, he will persevere, he will continue to learn the ways of the city and he will have his vengeance.
Grymsnarl has befriended several people in Mokmael, it is these few that know of his special heritage, most people believing him a simple wardog of above average intelligence. Generally he stays with Windwhistle, a bard that owns an above average inn in a below par section of one of the slum areas. The Whistling Gale is a tidy, well maintained inn whose clientelle are more often adventurers down on their luck rather than the usual petty criminal, thugs and vagabonds that frequent some of the seedier taverns of the district.
It was at the Whistling Gale that Grymsnarl met Weldin Ghar of the Crimson Sun, a mage of some repute (at least in his mind). A tight friendship grew between Weldin and the hound, a friendship that grew until Weldin had become part of Grymsnarl's pack. Weldin has been a great boon to Grymsnarl, he has crafted special magical tools that the hound is able to use to compliment his own natural talents.
Windwhistle would likely give an artist a free brew or two, or three, for a mural on one of his walls. He has a love of fine art and takes every opportunity he can to add to his collection, which he shows off to his patrons with great delight. You should have seen want happened to the kobold who ignored the 'do not touch the artwork' signs that litter the inn - messy!
Note: He has at least three mysteries that he wrestles with.
1. Who is the enemy?
2. What did the enemy do with his family's pelts?
3. Who saved him in the forest (and why?) - he owes a debt of gratitude.
Appearance: Grymsnarl has a shaggy, unkempt look about him, with fur stripped brown, tan and black, except for a patch of white on his chest. His gold pupils stare from large, watery eyes, giving him a sad, about to cry look. His tail is long and heavily furred and his ears stand upright, and taper to a point. His right leg has a ring of skin where the fur won’t grow.
He wears a black leather harness that has steel rings at the joins. The front of the harness has a leather plate that a pouch has been attached to. Around his throat he wears a wide silver collar studded with dark blue crystal. Upon his front legs are tied tight black leather sleeves that have been embossed with runes. His right paw sports a small plain gold ring.
Personality: Grymsnarl thinks of his friends as his pack and will do anything he can to aid them. He hates evil with a passion. He is not as intense and focussed with regard the loss of his first pack as he was when he first arrived in the city, having lost some of his bitterness when he found his new pack, but he still misses them dearly and wants vengeance. He is still a little scared, why did the enemy hunt his pack and why was he spared, or was he? Is the enemy still after him? For this reason he can be a little cautious at tiems.
He is energetic and quick and always keen to go for a run or play.
[sblock]
Grymsnarl
Rogue 4
Blink Dog Medium Magical Beast (LA2 + 4HD)
Alignment: Lawful Good
Deity: ??
Sex: Male
Height: 2’8” at the shoulder
Weight: 50 lbs
Fur: Brindle
Eyes: Yellow
Age: 7
Str: 8 (-1) [0 points]
Dex: 22 (+6) [16 points]
Con: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Int: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Wis: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Cha: 10 (+0) [2 points]
Level: 2xDex
Racial Abilities
Magical beast 10-sided HD
Blink (at will – caster level 8; end or evoke as a free action)
Darkvision 60’
Dimension Door (caster level 8; once a round as a free action and can act immediately after teleporting)
Low-light vision
Scent
+3 Natural Armour
Class Abilities
Sneak attack +2d6
Trapfinding
Evasion
Trap Sense +1
Hit Dice: 4d10 (monstrous); 4d6 (class); + 2d8 (LA)
HP: 11(1st) + 27 + 20 + 14 = 72
AC: 25 (+6 Dex; +3 Natural; +4 Armour; +2 Deflection) – Touch - 18, Flat-footed – 19
ACP: 0
Init: +8 (+6 Dex; +2 Feat)
Speed: 40’
Saves:
Fortitude 6 [+5 base, +1 Con]
Reflex 14 [+8 base, +6 Dex]
Will 6 [+4 base (+2 Iron Will), + 2 Wis]
BAB/Grapple: +7/+2 /+7
Melee Atk: + 15/+10 Bite (+7/+2 BAB; +6 Dex; +2 Magic)(1d8-1 +1d6 (electricity);x2)
Class Skills:
Blink Dog (2+Int) x 4 + (2+Int) x3 = 21; Rogue 8+Int x 4 = 36
Hide 15 (9 ranks; + 6 Dex)
Listen 8 (7 ranks; + 1 Wis)
Move Silently 15 (9 ranks; + 6 Dex)
Search 12 (10 ranks; + 2 Int)
Sense Motive 5 (4 ranks; + 1 Wis)
Spot 11 (10 ranks; + 1Wis)
Survival 9 {11} (8 ranks; + 1 Wis; {+2 when following tracks})
Feats:
Track (Bonus Feat)
Iron Will
Weapon Finesse (Bite)
Improved Natural Attack (increase natural attack die type) - MM
Quick Reconnoiter (Spot and Listen as free actions; +2 Init) - CAdv
Languages: Blink Dog; Common; Celestial
Equipment
Wearing
+4 Harness of Armour – 16000gp (5lbs) (leather harness with steel rings at the joins)
Sleeves of Dexterity +2 – 4000gp (leather sleeves that are tied to the front legs)
Ring of Protection +2 – 8000gp
Collar of Natural Weapons +2 Shock – 18600gp
Bag of Holding – 2500gp (15lb) (strapped to his chest)
In or on containers
Bag of Holding Type 1 (250lbs)
3 Potions Cure Moderate Wounds – 900gp
Total weight carried – 25 + whatever is pulled from the Bag of Holding lbs, light load.
Money
0
[/sblock]
Background:Grymsnarl padded silently through the dense undergrowth sniffing at the air as he moved. There it was again, that faint smell of something not right, something tainted, something that had upset the natural balance. He stopped and listened, his ears perking up and twitching left and right ready to detect the slightest sound, before again sliding quietly through the brush and continuing the hunt.
He and his pack had been on the trail of whatever abomination was stalking the forest for almost a week now and, slowly but surely, the enemy had got the upper hand. As each day had passed another of the pack had succumbed to the wiles of the predator, another of his family had died a gruesome, painful death. It was always the same; the pack made 'camp' together and then during the evening one of the number would disappear. The disappearance would shortly be followed by a howl of pain and then, the inevitable; the remaining pack members would find the body, or what remained. Each body had been completely skinned. It was almost as if someone had turned his pack mates inside out - not a hair was found and the process was completed less than a minute after the howl had broken the evenings silence.
Grymsnarl was the only one of his pack remaining, and he was ashamed to admit that he was scared. His adversary was getting closer to human lands and that meant trouble. He knew that if he didn't soon close with the enemy that his task would become so much more difficult. If he had to enter a human city it would become almost impossible - but he would not rest, he would have his vengeance.
"OWWWWWWWWWW", he had been distracted, deep in thought when the trap snapped shut around his right leg. The blades of the wicked device crushed his leg, almost severing it. Grymsnarl dropped to the ground howling in pain, his lifeblood slowly seeping into the ground. Darkness engulfed his senses.
\m/o0o\m/
The sharp tang of pinesap awoke him from a dream. He blinked his eyes and yawned. He was lying in the grass beneath a great pine, it's boughs spreading peacefully overhead, the bright sun shining through the leaves and dappling his dark fur with shadows. Beside him was a freshly slaughtered rabbit, a small hole had been dug amongst the tree roots and filled with sweet smelling water. He stood slowly and shook his head "What had happened" he wondered, "where was the pack?" and then he slumped back to the ground as the memories came crashing back upon him.
For days he lost the will to live, he never saw who had tended his wound, which was completely healed with only a ring of furless skin showing where the teeth of the vicious trap had torn his leg apart. But soon the fire for vengeance had been reignited and Grymsnarl once again took up the hunt. Which, unfortunately, led him straight to the great free city of the humans - to Mokmael.
\m/o0o\m/
The city confused Grymsnarl; it was a cacophony of sound and smells that constantly assailed his senses. He quickly lost track of the enemies trail, which had become quite tough to follow after the time he had spent convalescing in any event.
He fell into the habit of patrolling the streets of Mokmael looking for any sign of his enemy. He circled the city once every couple of days sniffing for any trace, the scent of his opponent indelibly etched into his mind forever. It was lucky for Grymsnarl that the city was home to many a stray hound and he was able to blend in easily, adapting and learning to live on the streets.
For two years now Grymsnarl has roamed the streets of Mokmael, searching for any sign of the enemy. Occasionally he will get a lead but it has all proven to no avail. But, he will not give up, he will persevere, he will continue to learn the ways of the city and he will have his vengeance.
Grymsnarl has befriended several people in Mokmael, it is these few that know of his special heritage, most people believing him a simple wardog of above average intelligence. Generally he stays with Windwhistle, a bard that owns an above average inn in a below par section of one of the slum areas. The Whistling Gale is a tidy, well maintained inn whose clientelle are more often adventurers down on their luck rather than the usual petty criminal, thugs and vagabonds that frequent some of the seedier taverns of the district.
It was at the Whistling Gale that Grymsnarl met Weldin Ghar of the Crimson Sun, a mage of some repute (at least in his mind). A tight friendship grew between Weldin and the hound, a friendship that grew until Weldin had become part of Grymsnarl's pack. Weldin has been a great boon to Grymsnarl, he has crafted special magical tools that the hound is able to use to compliment his own natural talents.
Windwhistle would likely give an artist a free brew or two, or three, for a mural on one of his walls. He has a love of fine art and takes every opportunity he can to add to his collection, which he shows off to his patrons with great delight. You should have seen want happened to the kobold who ignored the 'do not touch the artwork' signs that litter the inn - messy!
Note: He has at least three mysteries that he wrestles with.
1. Who is the enemy?
2. What did the enemy do with his family's pelts?
3. Who saved him in the forest (and why?) - he owes a debt of gratitude.
Appearance: Grymsnarl has a shaggy, unkempt look about him, with fur stripped brown, tan and black, except for a patch of white on his chest. His gold pupils stare from large, watery eyes, giving him a sad, about to cry look. His tail is long and heavily furred and his ears stand upright, and taper to a point. His right leg has a ring of skin where the fur won’t grow.
He wears a black leather harness that has steel rings at the joins. The front of the harness has a leather plate that a pouch has been attached to. Around his throat he wears a wide silver collar studded with dark blue crystal. Upon his front legs are tied tight black leather sleeves that have been embossed with runes. His right paw sports a small plain gold ring.
Personality: Grymsnarl thinks of his friends as his pack and will do anything he can to aid them. He hates evil with a passion. He is not as intense and focussed with regard the loss of his first pack as he was when he first arrived in the city, having lost some of his bitterness when he found his new pack, but he still misses them dearly and wants vengeance. He is still a little scared, why did the enemy hunt his pack and why was he spared, or was he? Is the enemy still after him? For this reason he can be a little cautious at tiems.
He is energetic and quick and always keen to go for a run or play.
[sblock]
Grymsnarl
Rogue 4
Blink Dog Medium Magical Beast (LA2 + 4HD)
Alignment: Lawful Good
Deity: ??
Sex: Male
Height: 2’8” at the shoulder
Weight: 50 lbs
Fur: Brindle
Eyes: Yellow
Age: 7
Str: 8 (-1) [0 points]
Dex: 22 (+6) [16 points]
Con: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Int: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Wis: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Cha: 10 (+0) [2 points]
Level: 2xDex
Racial Abilities
Magical beast 10-sided HD
Blink (at will – caster level 8; end or evoke as a free action)
Darkvision 60’
Dimension Door (caster level 8; once a round as a free action and can act immediately after teleporting)
Low-light vision
Scent
+3 Natural Armour
Class Abilities
Sneak attack +2d6
Trapfinding
Evasion
Trap Sense +1
Hit Dice: 4d10 (monstrous); 4d6 (class); + 2d8 (LA)
HP: 11(1st) + 27 + 20 + 14 = 72
AC: 25 (+6 Dex; +3 Natural; +4 Armour; +2 Deflection) – Touch - 18, Flat-footed – 19
ACP: 0
Init: +8 (+6 Dex; +2 Feat)
Speed: 40’
Saves:
Fortitude 6 [+5 base, +1 Con]
Reflex 14 [+8 base, +6 Dex]
Will 6 [+4 base (+2 Iron Will), + 2 Wis]
BAB/Grapple: +7/+2 /+7
Melee Atk: + 15/+10 Bite (+7/+2 BAB; +6 Dex; +2 Magic)(1d8-1 +1d6 (electricity);x2)
Class Skills:
Blink Dog (2+Int) x 4 + (2+Int) x3 = 21; Rogue 8+Int x 4 = 36
Hide 15 (9 ranks; + 6 Dex)
Listen 8 (7 ranks; + 1 Wis)
Move Silently 15 (9 ranks; + 6 Dex)
Search 12 (10 ranks; + 2 Int)
Sense Motive 5 (4 ranks; + 1 Wis)
Spot 11 (10 ranks; + 1Wis)
Survival 9 {11} (8 ranks; + 1 Wis; {+2 when following tracks})
Feats:
Track (Bonus Feat)
Iron Will
Weapon Finesse (Bite)
Improved Natural Attack (increase natural attack die type) - MM
Quick Reconnoiter (Spot and Listen as free actions; +2 Init) - CAdv
Languages: Blink Dog; Common; Celestial
Equipment
Wearing
+4 Harness of Armour – 16000gp (5lbs) (leather harness with steel rings at the joins)
Sleeves of Dexterity +2 – 4000gp (leather sleeves that are tied to the front legs)
Ring of Protection +2 – 8000gp
Collar of Natural Weapons +2 Shock – 18600gp
Bag of Holding – 2500gp (15lb) (strapped to his chest)
In or on containers
Bag of Holding Type 1 (250lbs)
3 Potions Cure Moderate Wounds – 900gp
Total weight carried – 25 + whatever is pulled from the Bag of Holding lbs, light load.
Money
0
[/sblock]
Last edited:
Hanable's Hunters
Story[sblock]That confirmed it in his mind. The merchant sitting outside the emporium and sipping from an expensive looking crystal glass, that shimmered in the sparse afternoon light, sported eight rings upon his chubby, immaculately manicured fingers and that marked him out for special attention; those simple gold bands marked him as an enemy, a member of the Aurum. Whitlok sighed, he had been in Korth for less than an hour and already he had stumbled across a diversion. A diversion that would likely make him late for his meeting, and he hated being late. But the simple fact of the matter was that if he didn’t act now he would be distracted during the meeting and Hanable hated it when he was distracted and didn’t pay close enough attention to the customers wants. So, those waiting for him would just have to continue waiting, he’d get to them when he had finalised this pressing business.
Whitlok whistled sharply and a large badger moved ponderously out of the shadows of the cart which had conveniently been providing a quiet place out of the way to doze. He reached down and stroked the top of the badger’s head with his dirty, stubby fingers. His gaze never left the gaudily dressed human that he had been watching now for the better part of ten minutes.
“So Digga, looks like we gotta lil’ job ta do fore our meetin” He muttered as he distractedly scratched at his wide, oft-broken nose. “But we be need’n a c’motion, sumtin to get this fella off t’ main street.”
He grunted as he stood, an old back injury making him wince in discomfort, and straightened his large, floppy, wide brimmed hat, the front of which had been pinned up so as not to obscure his vision. He looked left and right down the busy thoroughfare, weighing up opportunities for distraction. He spied a cart being drawn by two oxen and grinned – perfect, now all he needed was to make them bolt and that was something that Digga, with his sharp teeth and a well placed bite to the leg, was very good at. Unfortunately it also meant that there might be some damage to the street, an unavoidable side effect of his line of work. He was about to kneel and whisper his plan to Digga when he spied a figure wrapped in a dark, heavy cloak approach the merchant. The figure stopped at the left shoulder of the merchant, bent down so his mouth was equal with the merchant’s ear and whispered urgently while gesticulating towards the mouth of a nearby alley.
“Now this looks promisin’ Digga”, Whitlock said as a broad grin spread across his heavily weathered face. His square, blocky yellowing teeth, normally hidden behind his dark moustache, double-braided beard and depreciating scowl, flashed in the afternoon sun. “Looks like tis day might jus’ be a ripper after all me ol’ friend”.
Across the street the merchant rose heavily to his feet, his wide paunch stretching the expensive fabric of his expertly stitched and embroidered tunic. He eyed the crowd around him distastefully until his eyes settled on a mailed thug leaning against a nearby building. The merchant tilted his head imperceptibly at the warrior and motioned for the cloaked figure to lead the way.
“Interestin”, Whitlok mumbled under his breath “looks like tis jus’ got a lil’ bit difficult”. He quickly adjusted the straps on the chain shirt that fit snugly over his wiry body and stamped some life back into his feet.
Luckily for Whitlok he knew exactly where the alleyway that the pair made their way towards led. He watched as the warrior eased his way from the wall and strode nonchalantly after the pair. Whitlok studied the man, who he saw now was more boy than man, probably hadn’t even seen service in the war he thought to himself. The boy carried himself with an air of self-importance, he swaggered as if the street was his and even threatened an old woman that had the audacity to accidentally bump into him.
“Typical of the stingy bastards” Whitlok whispered to Digga, “tryin’ to save a few gold, buys substandard goods and now he’s gonna pay. Hehe, this is gunna be fun Digga, time for the old tag n’ trip me ol’ mate”
Digga slowly perambulated the crowded street, following the young warrior who was even now reaching the mouth of the alleyway. Whitlok, on the other hand, quickly raced up the street in the opposite direction, having to roll under the pair of startled oxen that blocked his way forward as they continued to work their way ponderously up the street. He careened around the corner of the next alleyway, climbed expertly up on to a pile of wooden kegs and launched himself into the air fingers scrabbling to catch hold of the rooftop. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as the roof gave a groan but he managed to kick his legs and throw his weight forward pivoting and rolling sideways on to the roof before a handful of tiles slipped from their housing and crashed to the alley below.
“Thank Balinor” he managed to squeeze out as he pushed himself to his feet. He pulled Khezek, his ancestral urgosh, from it’s sheath upon his back and steadied himself as he quickly made his way across the rooftop. Luck seemed to be with him this day, the damned Aurum was so confident in his wealth and the ability of the guard that trailed him, that he wasn’t even bothering to try and be unobtrusive. He was making enough noise, arguing heatedly with someone, the cloaked stranger Whitlok presumed, that he would never even hear the attack coming. Whitlok reached the far edge of the roof, caught sight of the merchant and his cloaked comrade and launched himself into the air.
He landed on his feet with a heavy thud, the soles of his high, black leather boots absorbing most of the impact. Letting the momentum of his leap tip him forward he drew his shoulders in and curled into a ball tumbling between the startled pair. The Aurum slouched to the ground and let out a scream as the razor sharp axe blade sliced through his Achilles heel. Whitlok rolled to a stop, sprung to his feet, spun and growled at the cloak figure.
“It’s the dandy man I want, I have no beef with ye at t moment and ye’d be best off keeping it tat way”
The cloaked figure looked down at the hamstrung man who was screaming and clawing at the hem of his cloak. He stomped on the merchant’s fingers and spat in disgust.
“You can have him dwarf.” A silky voice purred from the depths of the hooded cowl, “He has proven he is of no use to my mistress but I mark ye, and I will tell my mistress of what transpired here this day, and, know this, if my mistress desires it you will die. Know this to be true.” Before Whitlok could react the cloaked figure whispered ancient magic and disappeared in a swirl of inky darkness.
Whitlok quickly turned his attention to the warrior that was warily making his way down the street, his sword blade wavering as he held it resolutely before him. The merchant was slowly dragging himself up the alley, trying desperately to claw his way to freedom, a bloody trail marking his route in the dirt of the alley, flies starting to gather to lap thirstily at the mans lifeblood as it leaked into the ground.
The merchant wasn’t going to get far, not, at any rate, before Whitlok took care of the inexperienced warrior. He quickly advanced down the alley towards the young fighter, his axe shaft cradled comfortably in his hands. He wanted this over with quickly, and wanted the boy unbalanced. He glared at the boy, mustering all his years of experience in the Karrnathi army into his stride and bearing, trying to impress upon the young man just how much trouble he was in. The boy swung his sword threateningly before him; sweat beading on his brow, the tip of his blade dropping slightly as his immature muscles struggled to keep the heavy blade steady.
Whitlok broke into a run. The boy steadied himself for a charge but he wasn’t expecting what happened next. The dwarf hurtled down the alley and skidded to a halt just in front of the boy warrior, who quickly stepped back, tripped over the badger that had quietly snuck up behind him and fell heavily to the ground, the sword spilling from his grasp. Whitlok kicked the blade further away and jammed the point of his urgosh at the boys exposed throat, stopping just short of actually piercing the skin.
“Let this be a lessin for ye brat.” Whitlok thundered as he kept a wary eye on the boy “I watched ye bully the peasants in the street earlier, let’s see just how threatin’ ye are without that yard of cold steel at yer side. Stand, slowly like and strip”. The boy got shakily to his feet “I was only doin’ me job” he muttered as he unbuckled his armour and let it fall to the ground.
Whitlok addressed the badger without taking his hands from the haft or his eyes from the boy “Digga, go and see t’ that mewlin’ bastard that be makin’ ‘is way down t’ alley, don’t let ‘im go any further ‘fore I get t’ chance t’ finish ‘im orf.’ The badger ambled slowly up the alley, bearing down on the unfortunate merchant whose once immaculate clothing was now bedraggled and caked with blood, vomit, snot and tears.
“Now boy, tat weren’t doin’ no job, nope, you was employed t’ protect that snivellin’ ‘eap o’ trash back there n’ look at ‘im. If you’d spent more time doin yer job n’ less time parading around like some popinjay ye might’ve found yerself still employed and not in t’ unfortunate position you’re in at t’ moment.” The boy, was openly weeping and shaking and had stripped down to all but his smalls. “and those boys” Whitlok growled looking at his undergarments. “And then you can march on down the street or I’ll let me lil ‘airy friend over there bite ye dangly bits.” That was enough for the boy, he threw his (now thoroughly soiled) undergarments to the ground and raced down the alley and out of sight.
Whitlok turned back to the merchant that now lay still in the middle of the alley a short distance away, the bulky badger standing before him and blocking his progress forward. Whitlok strode resolutely down the dusty alley. His face set in a determined scowl. The merchant looked up at the bulky mass of the angry dwarf.
”Why?” he gasped “what have I done to you?”
“You chose t’ wrong side” Whitlok spat as the point of his urgosh flashed downwards “This is fer me kin you Aurum dog.”[/sblock]
Stats
Background[sblock]Whitlok is the last sane surviving member of his immediate family. Most of the minor families that had ties to his clan have been assimilated into other clans now. Clan Khasamenn is affectively dead. His mother is in an asylum in Atur after losing her mind when she discovered the bodies of her husband and most of their children in an apparent murder/suicide. Whitlok, the eldest of the children, had been training in Khyber at the time of the tragedy. Whitlok could not believe that his father could have done such a shallow, selfish act.
The apparent murder/suicide severely affected the clan’s social standing. They went from socialites to social pariahs. The downfall of Khasamenn's mercantile interests was swift and brutal.
Whitlok mourned like any son would, he convalesced his mother and did what he could to assist the former families of his clan. Eventually he had to sell up his family’s holdings to Antus ir'Soldorak. Whitlok took his mother and moved down to Karrnath. He joined the Karrnathian army so that he could afford to have his mother properly cared for. It was during this time, showing a natural aptitude for scouting, that he was trained in the arts of stealth and woods lore by elven strike troops in Karrnwood. It was also during this time that he met his friend, Digga.
Early in his army career Whitlok met Hanable. It was during a job protecting a caravan that was travelling between Karrnath and Talenta. Hanable happened to be travelling in the same direction and so joined the caravan for a period. Hanable liked the young, quiet dwarf and told him of the Hunters. Whitlok was impressed by the quiet authority and confidence Hanable exuded and, long after their brief encounter, Whitlok still remembered the strength of the man.
At the end of the war Whitlok tracked down the man that had left such an impression on him (well Hanable lets him believe that he tracked him down). Still needing an income to support his mother he was seeking work. Hanable had told Whitlok some of his plans for the Hunters and Whitlok craved action. Whitlok signed on immediately and has been working for Hanable for the last 2 years.
Hanable had discovered the truth about the unfortunate events that had befallen the Khasamenn's and told Whitlok of the link between Antus ir'Soldorak and the Aurum. The wrongness of his father’s actions had rubbed him raw over the last 5 years. He could not reconcile the actions of the man with the father he knew and loved. Hanable helped him uncover the truth. His father had gone against the wishes of the Aurum and had cost them a lucrative deal. The deaths of his family had been pay back.
Whitlok swore revenge, but Hanable counselled patience. "Revenge is a dish best served cold" he told Whitlok. "You can not hope to derail the Aurum single handedly. You need training, skills, magic to counter their's, patience my friend."[/sblock]
Picture of Whitlok and Digga
Story[sblock]That confirmed it in his mind. The merchant sitting outside the emporium and sipping from an expensive looking crystal glass, that shimmered in the sparse afternoon light, sported eight rings upon his chubby, immaculately manicured fingers and that marked him out for special attention; those simple gold bands marked him as an enemy, a member of the Aurum. Whitlok sighed, he had been in Korth for less than an hour and already he had stumbled across a diversion. A diversion that would likely make him late for his meeting, and he hated being late. But the simple fact of the matter was that if he didn’t act now he would be distracted during the meeting and Hanable hated it when he was distracted and didn’t pay close enough attention to the customers wants. So, those waiting for him would just have to continue waiting, he’d get to them when he had finalised this pressing business.
Whitlok whistled sharply and a large badger moved ponderously out of the shadows of the cart which had conveniently been providing a quiet place out of the way to doze. He reached down and stroked the top of the badger’s head with his dirty, stubby fingers. His gaze never left the gaudily dressed human that he had been watching now for the better part of ten minutes.
“So Digga, looks like we gotta lil’ job ta do fore our meetin” He muttered as he distractedly scratched at his wide, oft-broken nose. “But we be need’n a c’motion, sumtin to get this fella off t’ main street.”
He grunted as he stood, an old back injury making him wince in discomfort, and straightened his large, floppy, wide brimmed hat, the front of which had been pinned up so as not to obscure his vision. He looked left and right down the busy thoroughfare, weighing up opportunities for distraction. He spied a cart being drawn by two oxen and grinned – perfect, now all he needed was to make them bolt and that was something that Digga, with his sharp teeth and a well placed bite to the leg, was very good at. Unfortunately it also meant that there might be some damage to the street, an unavoidable side effect of his line of work. He was about to kneel and whisper his plan to Digga when he spied a figure wrapped in a dark, heavy cloak approach the merchant. The figure stopped at the left shoulder of the merchant, bent down so his mouth was equal with the merchant’s ear and whispered urgently while gesticulating towards the mouth of a nearby alley.
“Now this looks promisin’ Digga”, Whitlock said as a broad grin spread across his heavily weathered face. His square, blocky yellowing teeth, normally hidden behind his dark moustache, double-braided beard and depreciating scowl, flashed in the afternoon sun. “Looks like tis day might jus’ be a ripper after all me ol’ friend”.
Across the street the merchant rose heavily to his feet, his wide paunch stretching the expensive fabric of his expertly stitched and embroidered tunic. He eyed the crowd around him distastefully until his eyes settled on a mailed thug leaning against a nearby building. The merchant tilted his head imperceptibly at the warrior and motioned for the cloaked figure to lead the way.
“Interestin”, Whitlok mumbled under his breath “looks like tis jus’ got a lil’ bit difficult”. He quickly adjusted the straps on the chain shirt that fit snugly over his wiry body and stamped some life back into his feet.
Luckily for Whitlok he knew exactly where the alleyway that the pair made their way towards led. He watched as the warrior eased his way from the wall and strode nonchalantly after the pair. Whitlok studied the man, who he saw now was more boy than man, probably hadn’t even seen service in the war he thought to himself. The boy carried himself with an air of self-importance, he swaggered as if the street was his and even threatened an old woman that had the audacity to accidentally bump into him.
“Typical of the stingy bastards” Whitlok whispered to Digga, “tryin’ to save a few gold, buys substandard goods and now he’s gonna pay. Hehe, this is gunna be fun Digga, time for the old tag n’ trip me ol’ mate”
Digga slowly perambulated the crowded street, following the young warrior who was even now reaching the mouth of the alleyway. Whitlok, on the other hand, quickly raced up the street in the opposite direction, having to roll under the pair of startled oxen that blocked his way forward as they continued to work their way ponderously up the street. He careened around the corner of the next alleyway, climbed expertly up on to a pile of wooden kegs and launched himself into the air fingers scrabbling to catch hold of the rooftop. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as the roof gave a groan but he managed to kick his legs and throw his weight forward pivoting and rolling sideways on to the roof before a handful of tiles slipped from their housing and crashed to the alley below.
“Thank Balinor” he managed to squeeze out as he pushed himself to his feet. He pulled Khezek, his ancestral urgosh, from it’s sheath upon his back and steadied himself as he quickly made his way across the rooftop. Luck seemed to be with him this day, the damned Aurum was so confident in his wealth and the ability of the guard that trailed him, that he wasn’t even bothering to try and be unobtrusive. He was making enough noise, arguing heatedly with someone, the cloaked stranger Whitlok presumed, that he would never even hear the attack coming. Whitlok reached the far edge of the roof, caught sight of the merchant and his cloaked comrade and launched himself into the air.
He landed on his feet with a heavy thud, the soles of his high, black leather boots absorbing most of the impact. Letting the momentum of his leap tip him forward he drew his shoulders in and curled into a ball tumbling between the startled pair. The Aurum slouched to the ground and let out a scream as the razor sharp axe blade sliced through his Achilles heel. Whitlok rolled to a stop, sprung to his feet, spun and growled at the cloak figure.
“It’s the dandy man I want, I have no beef with ye at t moment and ye’d be best off keeping it tat way”
The cloaked figure looked down at the hamstrung man who was screaming and clawing at the hem of his cloak. He stomped on the merchant’s fingers and spat in disgust.
“You can have him dwarf.” A silky voice purred from the depths of the hooded cowl, “He has proven he is of no use to my mistress but I mark ye, and I will tell my mistress of what transpired here this day, and, know this, if my mistress desires it you will die. Know this to be true.” Before Whitlok could react the cloaked figure whispered ancient magic and disappeared in a swirl of inky darkness.
Whitlok quickly turned his attention to the warrior that was warily making his way down the street, his sword blade wavering as he held it resolutely before him. The merchant was slowly dragging himself up the alley, trying desperately to claw his way to freedom, a bloody trail marking his route in the dirt of the alley, flies starting to gather to lap thirstily at the mans lifeblood as it leaked into the ground.
The merchant wasn’t going to get far, not, at any rate, before Whitlok took care of the inexperienced warrior. He quickly advanced down the alley towards the young fighter, his axe shaft cradled comfortably in his hands. He wanted this over with quickly, and wanted the boy unbalanced. He glared at the boy, mustering all his years of experience in the Karrnathi army into his stride and bearing, trying to impress upon the young man just how much trouble he was in. The boy swung his sword threateningly before him; sweat beading on his brow, the tip of his blade dropping slightly as his immature muscles struggled to keep the heavy blade steady.
Whitlok broke into a run. The boy steadied himself for a charge but he wasn’t expecting what happened next. The dwarf hurtled down the alley and skidded to a halt just in front of the boy warrior, who quickly stepped back, tripped over the badger that had quietly snuck up behind him and fell heavily to the ground, the sword spilling from his grasp. Whitlok kicked the blade further away and jammed the point of his urgosh at the boys exposed throat, stopping just short of actually piercing the skin.
“Let this be a lessin for ye brat.” Whitlok thundered as he kept a wary eye on the boy “I watched ye bully the peasants in the street earlier, let’s see just how threatin’ ye are without that yard of cold steel at yer side. Stand, slowly like and strip”. The boy got shakily to his feet “I was only doin’ me job” he muttered as he unbuckled his armour and let it fall to the ground.
Whitlok addressed the badger without taking his hands from the haft or his eyes from the boy “Digga, go and see t’ that mewlin’ bastard that be makin’ ‘is way down t’ alley, don’t let ‘im go any further ‘fore I get t’ chance t’ finish ‘im orf.’ The badger ambled slowly up the alley, bearing down on the unfortunate merchant whose once immaculate clothing was now bedraggled and caked with blood, vomit, snot and tears.
“Now boy, tat weren’t doin’ no job, nope, you was employed t’ protect that snivellin’ ‘eap o’ trash back there n’ look at ‘im. If you’d spent more time doin yer job n’ less time parading around like some popinjay ye might’ve found yerself still employed and not in t’ unfortunate position you’re in at t’ moment.” The boy, was openly weeping and shaking and had stripped down to all but his smalls. “and those boys” Whitlok growled looking at his undergarments. “And then you can march on down the street or I’ll let me lil ‘airy friend over there bite ye dangly bits.” That was enough for the boy, he threw his (now thoroughly soiled) undergarments to the ground and raced down the alley and out of sight.
Whitlok turned back to the merchant that now lay still in the middle of the alley a short distance away, the bulky badger standing before him and blocking his progress forward. Whitlok strode resolutely down the dusty alley. His face set in a determined scowl. The merchant looked up at the bulky mass of the angry dwarf.
”Why?” he gasped “what have I done to you?”
“You chose t’ wrong side” Whitlok spat as the point of his urgosh flashed downwards “This is fer me kin you Aurum dog.”[/sblock]
Stats
Code:
Whitlok ir’Khasamenn
Dwarf Ranger 4/Extreme Explorer 1 (XP 11,750) Alignment: CG
Height: 4'8" Weight: 167lbs. Age: 58
hair: black, blonde streaks eyes: blue skin: dark, dusty
Region of Origin: Mror Holds
Action Points: 9 (d8)
STR 16 +3
DEX 16 +3
CON 13 +1 (+2 racial)
INT 15 +2
WIS 14 +2 (+1 4th level)
CHA 8 –1 (-2 racial)
HP: 36 (8 + [URL=http://invisiblecastle.com/find.py?id=95106]HERE[/URL] + 5 con)
Init: +3
BAB/Grapple: +4/+7
Speed: 20ft
Urgosh Axe Head (+1): +8 or +6 (fighting two handed) – 1d8+4 (1+3)
Urgosh Spiked End (masterwork): +8 or +6 (fighting two handed) – 1d6+1
Light Cross Bow Shock: +7 – 1d8 + 1d6 (electrical)
Heavy Mace: +7 – 1d8+3
Dagger: +7 1d4+3
+1 vs orcs and goblinoids
ACP: -1 (masterwork)
AC: 18 (+1 chain shirt; +3 Dex)
Touch/Flatfooted: 13/15
+4 dodge vs Giants
Fort: +5 (+2 vs poison)
Ref: +9
Will: +3 (+2 vs spells and spell like abilities and effects)
Skills:
Balance 3 (1 rank, DEX bonus, -1 ACP)
Climb 5 (3 ranks, STR bonus, -1 ACP)
Disable Device 3 (1 rank, INT bonus)
Handle Animal 2 (3 ranks, CHR bonus)
Hide 7 (5 ranks, DEX bonus, -1 ACP)
Jump 6 (4 ranks, STR bonus, -1 ACP)
Knowledge (Dungeoneering) 6 (4 ranks, INT bonus)
Knowledge (Geography) 5 (3 ranks, INT bonus)
Knowledge (Nature) 6 (4 ranks, INT bonus)
Knowledge (History) 3 (1 rank, INT bonus)
Listen 6 (4 ranks, WIS bonus)
Move Silently 7 (5 ranks, DEX bonus, -1 ACP)
Open Lock 4 (1 rank, DEX bonus)
Search 6 (4 ranks, INT bonus)
Spot (4 ranks, WIS bonus)
Survival 9 (7 ranks, WIS bonus)
Swim 6 (3 ranks, STR bonus)
Tumble 4 (2 ranks, DEX bonus, -1 ACP)
Use Magic Device 1 (2 ranks, CHR bonus)
Use Rope 6 (3 ranks, DEX bonus)
+2 racial check on appraise and craft for metal or stone items
+2 racial bonus to search stone
Languages: Common, Dwarf, Undercommon, Orc.
Feats:
Aberrant Dragonmark – Pass Without Trace
Action Boost
Endurance (class ability)
Two Weapon Fighting (Combat Style class ability)
Abilities:
Racial
Darkvision 60’
Stonecunning
Weapon Famililarity (Dwarf War Axe and Urgosh)
Stability
Ranger
Favoured Enemy – Aurum
Track
Wild Empathy
Combat Style (noted under feats)
Endurance (noted under feats)
Animal Companion – badger
Extreme Explorer
Additional Action Points
Trap Sense +1
Deity: Balinor
Spells: (1 1st bonus spell)
1-lvl spells (DC13)
Speak with Animals
Items:
Chain Shirt +1 (1250gp)
Urgosh +1 (Axe head) (2650gp)
Hewards Handy Havesack (2000gp)
Light Crossbow Shock (2335gp)
4 Potions Cure Light Wounds (200gp)
Potion Jump (50gp)
Potion Mage Armour (50gp)
Dagger
Heavy Mace
40 Crossbow Bolts
Hunters Broach
Hewards Handy Havesack (5 lbs)
Centre Pocket (80lbs)
Winter Blanket
Grappling Hook
Bullseye Lantern
Miners Pick
50’ Silk Rope
Shovel
Tent
Bedroll
Crowbar
Hammer
7 Days Iron Rations
2 Waterskins
Right Pocket (15 lbs – 5 remaining)
Cold Weather Outfit
Explorers Outfit
Identification Papers, with Portrait
Left Pocket (12 lbs – 8 remaining)
5 Candles
3 Map Cases
3 Fishhooks
2 Empty Flasks
Flint and Steel
Small Steel Mirror
Clay Tankard
Sewing Needle
Whetstone
Climbers Kit
Total wt: 59 lbs.
Monies: 1030gp
DIGGA
Badger (small animal)
HD: 1d8+2 (do you want to roll this or can he have max?)
Init: +3
Spd: 30' (6 squares); Burrow 10' (2 squares)
AC: 15 (+1 size, +3 dex, +1 natural), touch 14, flat-footed 12
BAB/Grapple: +0/-5
Attack: Claw +4 melee (1d2-1)
Full Attack: 2 claws +4 melee (1d2-1) and bite -1 melee (1d3-1)
Space/Reach: 5'/5'
Special Attacks: Rage
Special Qualities: Low-Light Vision, Scent, Link, Share Spell
Saves: Fort +4, Ref +5, Will +1
Abilities: Str 8, Dex 17, Con 15, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 6
Skills: Escape Artist +7, Listen +3, Spot +3
Feats: Track, Weapon Finesse
Tricks: Guard
Digga is an old badger, his fur has largely turned white and is quite long and shaggy compared to the normal badger. He is lazy and likes to eat and sleep. He is faithful though and respects Whitlok. They work well together although Whitlok is afraid that Digga is reaching the end of his life, he seems to be sleeping more and disappearing for stretches at a time.Background[sblock]Whitlok is the last sane surviving member of his immediate family. Most of the minor families that had ties to his clan have been assimilated into other clans now. Clan Khasamenn is affectively dead. His mother is in an asylum in Atur after losing her mind when she discovered the bodies of her husband and most of their children in an apparent murder/suicide. Whitlok, the eldest of the children, had been training in Khyber at the time of the tragedy. Whitlok could not believe that his father could have done such a shallow, selfish act.
The apparent murder/suicide severely affected the clan’s social standing. They went from socialites to social pariahs. The downfall of Khasamenn's mercantile interests was swift and brutal.
Whitlok mourned like any son would, he convalesced his mother and did what he could to assist the former families of his clan. Eventually he had to sell up his family’s holdings to Antus ir'Soldorak. Whitlok took his mother and moved down to Karrnath. He joined the Karrnathian army so that he could afford to have his mother properly cared for. It was during this time, showing a natural aptitude for scouting, that he was trained in the arts of stealth and woods lore by elven strike troops in Karrnwood. It was also during this time that he met his friend, Digga.
Early in his army career Whitlok met Hanable. It was during a job protecting a caravan that was travelling between Karrnath and Talenta. Hanable happened to be travelling in the same direction and so joined the caravan for a period. Hanable liked the young, quiet dwarf and told him of the Hunters. Whitlok was impressed by the quiet authority and confidence Hanable exuded and, long after their brief encounter, Whitlok still remembered the strength of the man.
At the end of the war Whitlok tracked down the man that had left such an impression on him (well Hanable lets him believe that he tracked him down). Still needing an income to support his mother he was seeking work. Hanable had told Whitlok some of his plans for the Hunters and Whitlok craved action. Whitlok signed on immediately and has been working for Hanable for the last 2 years.
Hanable had discovered the truth about the unfortunate events that had befallen the Khasamenn's and told Whitlok of the link between Antus ir'Soldorak and the Aurum. The wrongness of his father’s actions had rubbed him raw over the last 5 years. He could not reconcile the actions of the man with the father he knew and loved. Hanable helped him uncover the truth. His father had gone against the wishes of the Aurum and had cost them a lucrative deal. The deaths of his family had been pay back.
Whitlok swore revenge, but Hanable counselled patience. "Revenge is a dish best served cold" he told Whitlok. "You can not hope to derail the Aurum single handedly. You need training, skills, magic to counter their's, patience my friend."[/sblock]
Picture of Whitlok and Digga
Last edited:
B Movie
Anthony "Meat" Guilao
Male
Birthplace: Sydney, Australia
Height: 5'11""
Weight: 115 lbs
Age: 18 (January 5, 1987)
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Wavy, Brown
Classes: Strong 1/Dedicated 1
Occupation: Student
XP: 1,000
Vision Type: Normal
Action Points: 5
Reputation: +1
Wealth: +7 (+6 starting, +1 Student)
Speed: 30'
Initiative: +0 (+0 Dex)
STR 10 (0) (costs 2)
DEX 10 (0) (costs 2)
CON 10 (0) (costs 2)
INT 16 (+3) (costs 10)
WIS 16 (+3) (costs 10)
CHA 14 (+2) (costs 6)
HP: 13
Massive Damage: 13
AC: 12
[10 Base, +0 Dex, +2 Defense Bonus]
Saves:
Fort +2 [2 base +0 Con]
Ref +2 [0 base +0 Dex, +2 Lightning Reflexes]
Will +4 [1 base +3 Wis]
Languages Known:
~ English
Attacks:
Base Attack: +1 [No Bonuses]
Melee: +1 [+1 base +0 Str] +1 damage
Ranged: +1 [+1 base +0 Dex]
Grapple: +1 [+1 base +0 Str]
Skills:
Strong (24)
Computer Use 7 [4 ranks, +3 Int]
Jump 4 [4 ranks, +0 Str]
Knowledge (tactics) 7 [4 ranks, +3 Int]
Knowledge (current events) 7 [3 ranks, +3 Int]
Knowledge (popular culture) 7 [3 ranks, +3 Int]
Perform (act) 5 [3 ranks, +2 Cha]
Research 6 [3 ranks, +3 Int]
Swim 4 [4 ranks, +0 Str]
Dedicated (8)
Investigate 8 [2 ranks, +3 Int, +3 Skill Emphasis]
Spot 5 [2 ranks, +3 Wis]
Survival 5 [2 ranks, +3 wis]
Treat Injury 5 [2 ranks, +3 Wis]
Talent: Melee Smash (+1 melee damage); Skill Emphasis (Investigate)
Feats:
~ Simple Weapons (Strong Hero Class)
~ Increased Damage Threshold (1st Level) - Massive Damage = Con +3
~ Lightning Reflexes (1st Level) - +2 Reflex saves
Equipment:
Casual Clothes
Overcoat
Cell Phone
Portable Video Camera
Backpack
Chemical Light Sticks (5)
Compass
Flashlight, Battery Flood
Sleeping Bag
Meat suffered from Guillain Barre's syndrome, a virus that attacks the nervous system resulting in short term paralysis. In Meat's case short term was 9 months. He lost all muscle tone and had to relearn to walk. During his time in hospital Meat had a lot of time to think about how much he had lost, it didn't take him long to work out that instead of moaning he should be spending his time learning and looking forward. He realised how shallow he had been and swore he would rectify things as soon as he was able. His friends started noticing the change and soon it was only his girlfriend who would regularly visit. He was alive after all and even if he never walked again he could still contribute meaningfully to society. Meat got audiotapes to listen to while in hospital. He watched the history, national geographic, how to, discovery and computer channels. When he had some movement in his arms he would voraciously read. Meat has recently been released from hospital. He still sometimes suffers from dizzy spells and is occasionally shaky on his legs. A marathon runner he is not (in fact a light jog would be about all he could manage at the moment).
Meat (Anthony Cowan): Strong 1/Dedicated 1
-ex-jock, now socially conscious, thinks his friends are a little shallow, is trying to broaden his girlfriend, Muffy's, mind. Has only recently met the punk, not sure of his motives. Is recovering from a debilitating virus, is still very weak
Muffy: Charismatic
-Prom Queen, cheerleader, models, doing a liberal arts degree, dating Meat who she is finding a little irritating, she thinks he is too deep now but she still feels sorry for him and is having a hard time trying to work out how to break it off without appearing to be a bitch, the dirty weekend away is the last chance for their relationship as far as she is concerned.
Anthony "Meat" Guilao
Male
Birthplace: Sydney, Australia
Height: 5'11""
Weight: 115 lbs
Age: 18 (January 5, 1987)
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Wavy, Brown
Classes: Strong 1/Dedicated 1
Occupation: Student
XP: 1,000
Vision Type: Normal
Action Points: 5
Reputation: +1
Wealth: +7 (+6 starting, +1 Student)
Speed: 30'
Initiative: +0 (+0 Dex)
STR 10 (0) (costs 2)
DEX 10 (0) (costs 2)
CON 10 (0) (costs 2)
INT 16 (+3) (costs 10)
WIS 16 (+3) (costs 10)
CHA 14 (+2) (costs 6)
HP: 13
Massive Damage: 13
AC: 12
[10 Base, +0 Dex, +2 Defense Bonus]
Saves:
Fort +2 [2 base +0 Con]
Ref +2 [0 base +0 Dex, +2 Lightning Reflexes]
Will +4 [1 base +3 Wis]
Languages Known:
~ English
Attacks:
Base Attack: +1 [No Bonuses]
Melee: +1 [+1 base +0 Str] +1 damage
Ranged: +1 [+1 base +0 Dex]
Grapple: +1 [+1 base +0 Str]
Skills:
Strong (24)
Computer Use 7 [4 ranks, +3 Int]
Jump 4 [4 ranks, +0 Str]
Knowledge (tactics) 7 [4 ranks, +3 Int]
Knowledge (current events) 7 [3 ranks, +3 Int]
Knowledge (popular culture) 7 [3 ranks, +3 Int]
Perform (act) 5 [3 ranks, +2 Cha]
Research 6 [3 ranks, +3 Int]
Swim 4 [4 ranks, +0 Str]
Dedicated (8)
Investigate 8 [2 ranks, +3 Int, +3 Skill Emphasis]
Spot 5 [2 ranks, +3 Wis]
Survival 5 [2 ranks, +3 wis]
Treat Injury 5 [2 ranks, +3 Wis]
Talent: Melee Smash (+1 melee damage); Skill Emphasis (Investigate)
Feats:
~ Simple Weapons (Strong Hero Class)
~ Increased Damage Threshold (1st Level) - Massive Damage = Con +3
~ Lightning Reflexes (1st Level) - +2 Reflex saves
Equipment:
Casual Clothes
Overcoat
Cell Phone
Portable Video Camera
Backpack
Chemical Light Sticks (5)
Compass
Flashlight, Battery Flood
Sleeping Bag
Meat suffered from Guillain Barre's syndrome, a virus that attacks the nervous system resulting in short term paralysis. In Meat's case short term was 9 months. He lost all muscle tone and had to relearn to walk. During his time in hospital Meat had a lot of time to think about how much he had lost, it didn't take him long to work out that instead of moaning he should be spending his time learning and looking forward. He realised how shallow he had been and swore he would rectify things as soon as he was able. His friends started noticing the change and soon it was only his girlfriend who would regularly visit. He was alive after all and even if he never walked again he could still contribute meaningfully to society. Meat got audiotapes to listen to while in hospital. He watched the history, national geographic, how to, discovery and computer channels. When he had some movement in his arms he would voraciously read. Meat has recently been released from hospital. He still sometimes suffers from dizzy spells and is occasionally shaky on his legs. A marathon runner he is not (in fact a light jog would be about all he could manage at the moment).
Meat (Anthony Cowan): Strong 1/Dedicated 1
-ex-jock, now socially conscious, thinks his friends are a little shallow, is trying to broaden his girlfriend, Muffy's, mind. Has only recently met the punk, not sure of his motives. Is recovering from a debilitating virus, is still very weak
Muffy: Charismatic
-Prom Queen, cheerleader, models, doing a liberal arts degree, dating Meat who she is finding a little irritating, she thinks he is too deep now but she still feels sorry for him and is having a hard time trying to work out how to break it off without appearing to be a bitch, the dirty weekend away is the last chance for their relationship as far as she is concerned.
The Secret Scion
Bail
Human Barbarian 2
Medium Humanoid
Alignment: Neutral Good
Deity: Soveriegn Host
Region: Darguun
Sex: Male
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 145 lbs
Skin: Dark, husky, spent as lot of time outside
Hair: Black
Eyes: Hazel
Age: 14
Action Points: 5
Str: 16 (+3) [10 points]
Dex: 16 (+3) [10 points]
Con: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Int: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Wis: 8 (0) [0 points]
Cha: 10 (0) [2 points]
Class Abilities
Fast Movement (+10' speed); Illiterate; Rage 3/day (+4 Str; +4 Con; +2 Will; -2 AC; 8 rounds plus newly improved con bonus); Uncanny Dodge (Retain Dex bonus of caught flat footed, or attacked by invisible foe)
Hit Dice: 1d12
HP: 25
AC: 16 (+3 Dex, +3 Studded Leather ) Touch – 13, Flat-footed – 13
ACP: -1
Init: +3 (+3 Dex)
Speed: 40ft
Saves:
Fortitude + 5 [3 base, +2 Con]
Reflex + 3 [+0 base, +3 Dex]
Will -1 [+0 base, -1 Wis]
BAB/Grapple: +2/+5
Melee Atk: +5 Great Axe (1d12+3 +3;x3)
Melee Atk: +5 Warhammer (1d8+3;x3)
Melee Atk: +5 Spear (1d8+3;x3)
Ranged Atk: +5 Spear (1d8+3 x3; 20')
Class Skills:
Climb 4 [2 ranks, +3 Str, -1 ACP]
Craft 0 [+0 Int]
Handle Animal 2 [2 ranks, +0 Chr]
Intimidate 5 [5 ranks, +0 Chr]
Jump 7 [5 ranks, +3 Str, -1 ACP]
Listen 5 [5 rank, +0 Wis]
Ride 3 [+3 Dex]
Survival 4 [4 ranks, +0 Wis]
Swim 3 [2 ranks, +3 Str, -2 ACP]
Tumble 5 [0 ranks (cc), +3 Dex, +2 Synergy]
Feats:
Extend Rage (+5 rounds)
Extra Rage (2 extra times a day)
Languages: Common, Goblin
Equipment
Wearing or carrying at hand
Great Axe – 20gp (12 lbs)
Spear - 2gp (6lb)
Warhammer - 12gp (5lb)
Studded Leather Armour – 25gp (20 lbs)
In or on containers
Backpack - 2gp (2 lbs)
Waterskin – 1gp (4 lbs)
Flint and Steel – 1 gp (--)
Whetstone - 2cp (1lb)
5 Sunrods - 10gp (10lb)
Bedroll - 1sp (5lb)
Total weight carried – 65 lbs, light load.
Money
132 gp 9 sp 8 cp
~~~~~
Appearance: Bail is tall and thin with wiry muscles and broad shoulders, he is only 14 and is still growing. His face is hairless except for the bushy eyebrows. His nose is crooked, lieing slightly to the left, a result of the many beatings that he endured while young. He wears his hair long and lank, often tieing it back in a pony tail.
Personality:Bail has had a hard life and it shows, he is quiet and withdrawn and acts like a beaten puppy when in large crowds, shying away from people and sticking to the shadows, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible but when riled - Watch Out! He doesn't take well to being threatened or too bullies and is likely to take matters into his own hands.
Background: Bail had never known his true parents. As he understood it now they had been in a caravan travelling between Cyre and Zilargo that had been forcibly delayed in Darguun. His father had been killed and his pregnant mother held and 'maintained' until she had given birth, upon which time her usefulness was at an end and she had been slaughtered like some useless herd animal.
Bail was raised recruited by the Kech Shaarat to be a member of the Plain, a secret organisation of spies and agents who are all non-goblinoid and more easily able to infiltrate the societies of the fairer races. He did as he was told, was an attentive student and, by avoiding the steady blows that would rain down on he and the other recruits became quite quick on his feet. He began to develop an aptitude for stealth, his reflexes becoming finally honed, his balance and carriage marked him as a young man of speed.
The Plain were kept in line not only by threats to their physical being but also threats to their families. At this time Bail wasn't aware of the fate that had ultimately befallen his parents as the Kech Shaarat's plan was nefarious in the extreme. The tribe employed several Changelings who would impersonate the parents of the children that were slowly swelling the ranks of the Plain. It was easy with those born after abduction for they would never have the opportunity to recall their parents, but not all children were born in Darguun and the tactic kept them all in line. There was fierce competition between the children, a ruthless competition for food and attention that was cultivated by their wicked maters.
Bail was one of the few that learnt the goblin language; he was quick in mind as well as on his feet and would pick up snatches of the language as he grew. When he was 14 he overheard a conversation that finally helped put all the pieces of the puzzle that had been bugging him for years together. He swore then that he would escape and did so the very next night, using the skills that his maters had so diligently taught him over the last 14 years. They had made him the perfect weapon and he cut them deep that night.
Bail is on the run for two reasons, the first is that the Kech Sharrat don't want word of their secret reaching the ears of the outside world, not even the ears of those in Darkuun, as the great Lhesh Haruuc is not aware of the network and would surely think ill of the Kech Sharrat for keeping the network secret. Secondly, Bail stole something very valuable to the tribe before he left. Something that they will pursue Bail to the very ends of Khorvaire, and even the depths of Khyber, to recover.
[sblock]Bail ended up grabbing a small book during his flight, one that he later found out seemed to be the reason he was being pursued. It didn't look like much, a dark brown leather journal with cheap paper pages. But once you opened it, you realized what it was. It was the detailed description of the upbringing and missions of three others in the Plain, ones like you that had been deceived and used. There was also a slim sliver of an Eberron dragonshard in the book, one you discovered allowed some limited communication from the reader to one of the three agents, once one was in range.
One was Irian Lashay, a dancer and musician that worked in a House Phiarlan entertainment house in Sharn. She often did music for private gatherings, and gathered interesting bits of information from the nobles that she entertained. Another was Wes Garthaser, a skilled artificer that worked for House Orien on the lightning rails in Sharn. He supplied information on who and what was going where and why. The last was Wallbreaker, a male personalitied warforged purchased from House Cannith through a broker late in the Last War. He's twenty years old, and used as a bodyguard and strongarm for some unsavory types in Sharn. He's utterly neutral, but has no idea about the morality of his actions. He supplies information on crime barons and their activities.
The book is very detailed in their deception, placement, and cultivation, and would be able to bring the organization down, or at least strike a major blow to the Plain's operations in Sharn. [/sblock]
Bail
Human Barbarian 2
Medium Humanoid
Alignment: Neutral Good
Deity: Soveriegn Host
Region: Darguun
Sex: Male
Height: 5’7”
Weight: 145 lbs
Skin: Dark, husky, spent as lot of time outside
Hair: Black
Eyes: Hazel
Age: 14
Action Points: 5
Str: 16 (+3) [10 points]
Dex: 16 (+3) [10 points]
Con: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Int: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Wis: 8 (0) [0 points]
Cha: 10 (0) [2 points]
Class Abilities
Fast Movement (+10' speed); Illiterate; Rage 3/day (+4 Str; +4 Con; +2 Will; -2 AC; 8 rounds plus newly improved con bonus); Uncanny Dodge (Retain Dex bonus of caught flat footed, or attacked by invisible foe)
Hit Dice: 1d12
HP: 25
AC: 16 (+3 Dex, +3 Studded Leather ) Touch – 13, Flat-footed – 13
ACP: -1
Init: +3 (+3 Dex)
Speed: 40ft
Saves:
Fortitude + 5 [3 base, +2 Con]
Reflex + 3 [+0 base, +3 Dex]
Will -1 [+0 base, -1 Wis]
BAB/Grapple: +2/+5
Melee Atk: +5 Great Axe (1d12+3 +3;x3)
Melee Atk: +5 Warhammer (1d8+3;x3)
Melee Atk: +5 Spear (1d8+3;x3)
Ranged Atk: +5 Spear (1d8+3 x3; 20')
Class Skills:
Climb 4 [2 ranks, +3 Str, -1 ACP]
Craft 0 [+0 Int]
Handle Animal 2 [2 ranks, +0 Chr]
Intimidate 5 [5 ranks, +0 Chr]
Jump 7 [5 ranks, +3 Str, -1 ACP]
Listen 5 [5 rank, +0 Wis]
Ride 3 [+3 Dex]
Survival 4 [4 ranks, +0 Wis]
Swim 3 [2 ranks, +3 Str, -2 ACP]
Tumble 5 [0 ranks (cc), +3 Dex, +2 Synergy]
Feats:
Extend Rage (+5 rounds)
Extra Rage (2 extra times a day)
Languages: Common, Goblin
Equipment
Wearing or carrying at hand
Great Axe – 20gp (12 lbs)
Spear - 2gp (6lb)
Warhammer - 12gp (5lb)
Studded Leather Armour – 25gp (20 lbs)
In or on containers
Backpack - 2gp (2 lbs)
Waterskin – 1gp (4 lbs)
Flint and Steel – 1 gp (--)
Whetstone - 2cp (1lb)
5 Sunrods - 10gp (10lb)
Bedroll - 1sp (5lb)
Total weight carried – 65 lbs, light load.
Money
132 gp 9 sp 8 cp
~~~~~
Appearance: Bail is tall and thin with wiry muscles and broad shoulders, he is only 14 and is still growing. His face is hairless except for the bushy eyebrows. His nose is crooked, lieing slightly to the left, a result of the many beatings that he endured while young. He wears his hair long and lank, often tieing it back in a pony tail.
Personality:Bail has had a hard life and it shows, he is quiet and withdrawn and acts like a beaten puppy when in large crowds, shying away from people and sticking to the shadows, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible but when riled - Watch Out! He doesn't take well to being threatened or too bullies and is likely to take matters into his own hands.
Background: Bail had never known his true parents. As he understood it now they had been in a caravan travelling between Cyre and Zilargo that had been forcibly delayed in Darguun. His father had been killed and his pregnant mother held and 'maintained' until she had given birth, upon which time her usefulness was at an end and she had been slaughtered like some useless herd animal.
Bail was raised recruited by the Kech Shaarat to be a member of the Plain, a secret organisation of spies and agents who are all non-goblinoid and more easily able to infiltrate the societies of the fairer races. He did as he was told, was an attentive student and, by avoiding the steady blows that would rain down on he and the other recruits became quite quick on his feet. He began to develop an aptitude for stealth, his reflexes becoming finally honed, his balance and carriage marked him as a young man of speed.
The Plain were kept in line not only by threats to their physical being but also threats to their families. At this time Bail wasn't aware of the fate that had ultimately befallen his parents as the Kech Shaarat's plan was nefarious in the extreme. The tribe employed several Changelings who would impersonate the parents of the children that were slowly swelling the ranks of the Plain. It was easy with those born after abduction for they would never have the opportunity to recall their parents, but not all children were born in Darguun and the tactic kept them all in line. There was fierce competition between the children, a ruthless competition for food and attention that was cultivated by their wicked maters.
Bail was one of the few that learnt the goblin language; he was quick in mind as well as on his feet and would pick up snatches of the language as he grew. When he was 14 he overheard a conversation that finally helped put all the pieces of the puzzle that had been bugging him for years together. He swore then that he would escape and did so the very next night, using the skills that his maters had so diligently taught him over the last 14 years. They had made him the perfect weapon and he cut them deep that night.
Bail is on the run for two reasons, the first is that the Kech Sharrat don't want word of their secret reaching the ears of the outside world, not even the ears of those in Darkuun, as the great Lhesh Haruuc is not aware of the network and would surely think ill of the Kech Sharrat for keeping the network secret. Secondly, Bail stole something very valuable to the tribe before he left. Something that they will pursue Bail to the very ends of Khorvaire, and even the depths of Khyber, to recover.
[sblock]Bail ended up grabbing a small book during his flight, one that he later found out seemed to be the reason he was being pursued. It didn't look like much, a dark brown leather journal with cheap paper pages. But once you opened it, you realized what it was. It was the detailed description of the upbringing and missions of three others in the Plain, ones like you that had been deceived and used. There was also a slim sliver of an Eberron dragonshard in the book, one you discovered allowed some limited communication from the reader to one of the three agents, once one was in range.
One was Irian Lashay, a dancer and musician that worked in a House Phiarlan entertainment house in Sharn. She often did music for private gatherings, and gathered interesting bits of information from the nobles that she entertained. Another was Wes Garthaser, a skilled artificer that worked for House Orien on the lightning rails in Sharn. He supplied information on who and what was going where and why. The last was Wallbreaker, a male personalitied warforged purchased from House Cannith through a broker late in the Last War. He's twenty years old, and used as a bodyguard and strongarm for some unsavory types in Sharn. He's utterly neutral, but has no idea about the morality of his actions. He supplies information on crime barons and their activities.
The book is very detailed in their deception, placement, and cultivation, and would be able to bring the organization down, or at least strike a major blow to the Plain's operations in Sharn. [/sblock]
Valenar "Side Trek" (Elven Wedding)
~~~~~
Appearance: Salina is a small petite looking halfling with her blonde hair tied in two pony tails, twinkling blue eyes (the left one has a scar beneath it), and a smattering of freckles across her button-like nose finish off her features. She would be quite attractive if not for her sometimes (ok most times) abrasive manner and foul mouth. She refuses to wear anything that a woman wears, always dressing in the latest male fashions.
Personality: Salina may be a slight girl, but she is tough, she can mix it with the best of them (and often does). She is always out to prove that just because she is a girl, and small to boot, she isn't helpless. She will go on the front foot when treated like a lady, insisting on being one of the boys - she has gotten into more than one fight because someone tried to be chivalrous to her. She treats Khorvaire halflings with disdain, believing they are soft and have lost their way.
Background: Salina grew up on the Talenta Plains and loved the nomadic life style of her tribe, she showed a great aptitude for stealth and was soon accompanying the warriors of the tribe on hunting missions. Being even smaller than the average halfling she would use her natural stealth to great advantage, stalking her prey.
Her tribe refused to acknowledge her nomination when she declared herself ready to join the ranks of the warriors. it was unheard of for this particular tribe to acknowledge that a woman could be the equivalent in the martial ways as a man, and only men were accepted into the ranks of the tribal warrios.
Salina showed exactly what she was made of that day and bares the scar under her left eye as a badge of honour. Since leaving her tribe in disgust she has made her way in the world by hiring on as a caravan gaurd and accepting odd jobs that have thrown her together with a number of different characters, both Talenta born and foreigners.
It is one of these recent hirings that has landed her in her current predicament. She was gaurding a caravan through Valentar (which carried the personal effects of Searliad Dailraes, an elven scholar. He had passed away and his heirs where having his things brought to Taer Valaestasto be appraised) when it was attacked by elves. Salina was knocked unconscious early in the fight and woke to find the caravan destroyed. She is slowly making her way back to the Planes, and looking for opportunities to take revenge on her employers killers.
Code:
[b]Salina[/b]
[b]Talenta Halfling Rogue 5[/b]
[i]Small Humanoid[/i]
[b]Alignment:[/b] Chaotic Neutral
[b]Deity:[/b] Spiritualisitic worship of Balinor, Lord of the Beasts and the Hunt
[b]Region:[/b] Talenta Planes
[b]Sex:[/b] Female
[b]Height:[/b] 3'1"
[b]Weight:[/b] 35 lbs
[b]Skin: [/b] Dark, freckled skin
[b]Hair: [/b]Blonde
[b]Eyes:[/b] Blue
[b]Age:[/b] 25
[b]Exp:[/b] 10,400
[b]Action Points:[/b] 7 (1d6)
[b]Str:[/b] 10 (+0) [4 points]
[b]Dex:[/b] 19 (+4) [10 points]
[b]Con:[/b] 12 (+1) [4 points]
[b]Int:[/b] 14 (+2) [6 points]
[b]Wis:[/b] 10 (0) [2 points]
[b]Cha:[/b] 10 (0) [2 points]
[b]Class Abilities[/b]
Sneak Attack +3d6
Trapfinding
Evasion (successful Refles save against half damage results in no damage)
Trap Sense +1
Uncanny Dodge (retain Dex bonus to AC if caught flat footed or struck by invisible opponent but not if immobile)
[b]Hit Dice:[/b] d6 +1
[b]HP:[/b] 25
[b]AC:[/b] 19 (+4 Dex, +4 Mithril Chain Shirt, +1 Size) Touch – 14, Flat-footed – 14 (unless immobilised)
[b]ACP:[/b] 0
[b]Init:[/b] +4 (+4 Dex)
[b]Speed:[/b] 20ft
[b]Saves:[/b]
Fortitude + 3 [+1 base, +1 Con, +1 Racial]
Reflex + 9 [+4 base, +4 Dex, +1 Racial]
Will +2 [+1 base, +0 Wis, +1 Racial] (+2 racial morale to fear saves)
[b]BAB/Grapple:[/b] +3/-1
[b]Melee Atk:[/b] +5 (+3 BaB, +1m/w, +1 racial) Masterwork Talenta Tangat (1d8;18-20/x2)
[b]Melee Atk:[/b] +5 Flaming Short Sword (+3 BaB, +1m/w, +1 racial) (1d6 (+1d6 flame);19-20/x2)
[b]Ranged Atk:[/b] Short Bow +7 (+3 BaB, +4 Dex) (1d6 x3; 60')
[b]Ranged Atk:[/b] Talenta Boomerang +8 (+3 BaB, +4 Dex, +1 racial) (1d3 x2; 30')
- +1 Thrown weapons (racial)
[b]Class Skills:[/b]
Appraise 2 [+2 Int]
Balance 8 [4 ranks, +4 Dex]
Bluff 0 [+0 Cha]
Climb 6 [4 ranks, +0 Str, +2 Racial]
Craft 2 [+2 Int]
Decipher Script 3 [1 rank, +2 Int]
Diplomacy 0 [+ Cha]
Disable Device 11 [7 ranks, +4 Dex]
Disguise 0 [+0 Cha]
Escape Artist 8 [4 ranks, +4 Dex]
Forgery 2 [+2 Int]
Gather Information 0 [+0 Ch]
Hide 14 [6 ranks, +4 Dex, +4 Racial]
Intimidate 0 [+0 Cha]
Jump 9 [5 ranks, +0 Str, +2 Racial, +2 synergy]
Knowledge (local) 2 [+2 Int]
Listen 6 [4 ranks, +0 Wis, +2 Racial]
Move Silently 14 [8 ranks, +4 Dex, +2 Racial]
Open Lock 8 [6 ranks, +2 Int]
Ride 6 [+4 Dex, +2 Military Saddle]
Search 10 [8 ranks, +2 Int]
Sense Motive 0 [+0 Wis]
Sleight of Hand 6 [2 ranks, +4 Dex]
Spot 8 [8 ranks, +0 Wis]
Swim 0 [+0 Str]
Tumble 11 [5 ranks, +4 Dex, +2 Synergy]
Use Magic Device 8 [6 ranks, +2 int]
Use Rope 6 [2 ranks, +4 Dex]
[b]Feats:[/b]
Martial Weapon Proficiency
Talenta Warrior (sharrash, tangat and boomerang are treated as martial weapons; +1 damage when mounted; add action point result to damage and attack)
(Next level = weapon finesse or focus)
[b]Languages:[/b] Common, Halfling, Elf, Goblin
[b][u]Equipment[/u][/b]
[b][i]Wearing or carrying at hand[/i][/b]
[b]Flaming Short Sword (+1 attack - m/w)[/b] – 2310 gp (1 lb)
[b]Masterwork Taleta Tangat (+1 attack - m/w, +1d6 fire damage)[/b] - 340gp (8lb)
[b]Short Bow[/b] - 30gp (2lb)
[b]20 Arrows[/b] - 1gp - (3lb)
[b]Mithril Chain Shirt[/b] – 1100 gp (10 lbs)
[b]Wand of Cure Light Wounds[/b] - 750gp
[b]Potion of Cats Grace[/b] - 300gp
[b]Potion Pass Without Trace[/b] - 50gp
[b]Arrow of Venom (like dagger of venom)[/b]
[b][i]In or on containers[/i][/b]
[b]Backpack[/b] - 2gp (2 lbs)
[b]Waterskin[/b] – 1gp (4 lbs)
[b]Flint and Steel[/b] – 1 gp (--)
[b]Whetstone[/b] - 2cp (1lb)
Total weight carried – 31 lbs, light load. (less 33)
[b]Clawfoot[/b] - 150gp (--)
[b][i]Carried by Clawfoot[/i][/b]
[b]Military Saddle[/b] - 20gp (30lb)
[b]Tent[/b] - 10gp (20lb)
[b]Winter Blanket[/b] - 5sp (3lb)
[b]40 Arrows[/b] - 2gp (6lb)
[b]Saddle Bags[/b] - 4gp (8lb)
[b]5 Sun Rods[/b] - 10gp (5lb)
Total 72lbs (light 86, medium 173, heavy 260)
HP: 13; Init: +3; Spd: 40'; AC 16 (T13, FF 13); BAB/Grapple +1/+4; Attack +4 Talons (1d8+3); Full Attack +4 Talons (1d8+3), 2 Foreclaws -1 (1d3+1), Bite -1 (1d6+1); Space/Reach 5'/5'; SQ Low Light Vision, Scent;Saves F+5, R+6, W+1; Str 17, Dex 17, Con 15, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 10; Skills - Hide +12, Jump +20, Listen +10, Spot +10, Survival +10; Feats - Run.
[b]Money[/b]
13 gp 4 sp 8 cpAppearance: Salina is a small petite looking halfling with her blonde hair tied in two pony tails, twinkling blue eyes (the left one has a scar beneath it), and a smattering of freckles across her button-like nose finish off her features. She would be quite attractive if not for her sometimes (ok most times) abrasive manner and foul mouth. She refuses to wear anything that a woman wears, always dressing in the latest male fashions.
Personality: Salina may be a slight girl, but she is tough, she can mix it with the best of them (and often does). She is always out to prove that just because she is a girl, and small to boot, she isn't helpless. She will go on the front foot when treated like a lady, insisting on being one of the boys - she has gotten into more than one fight because someone tried to be chivalrous to her. She treats Khorvaire halflings with disdain, believing they are soft and have lost their way.
Background: Salina grew up on the Talenta Plains and loved the nomadic life style of her tribe, she showed a great aptitude for stealth and was soon accompanying the warriors of the tribe on hunting missions. Being even smaller than the average halfling she would use her natural stealth to great advantage, stalking her prey.
Her tribe refused to acknowledge her nomination when she declared herself ready to join the ranks of the warriors. it was unheard of for this particular tribe to acknowledge that a woman could be the equivalent in the martial ways as a man, and only men were accepted into the ranks of the tribal warrios.
Salina showed exactly what she was made of that day and bares the scar under her left eye as a badge of honour. Since leaving her tribe in disgust she has made her way in the world by hiring on as a caravan gaurd and accepting odd jobs that have thrown her together with a number of different characters, both Talenta born and foreigners.
It is one of these recent hirings that has landed her in her current predicament. She was gaurding a caravan through Valentar (which carried the personal effects of Searliad Dailraes, an elven scholar. He had passed away and his heirs where having his things brought to Taer Valaestasto be appraised) when it was attacked by elves. Salina was knocked unconscious early in the fight and woke to find the caravan destroyed. She is slowly making her way back to the Planes, and looking for opportunities to take revenge on her employers killers.
Xen'Drik, Eberron: Stone of Sorrows - GAME APPEARS DEAD
Khek-Tahaal
Elf (Drow - Zin'll) Rogue 1/Cleric 1 (XP 2,000) Alignment: CN (spontaneuos cure)
Height: 3'6" Weight: 36lbs. Age: 16
hair: white eyes: red skin: black with white scorpion acid scars
Region of Origin: Xen-Drik
Deity: Vulkoor
[sblock]
STR 12 (+1)
DEX 20 (+5)
CON 12 (+1)
INT 16 (+3)
WIS 18 (+4)
CHA 10 (+0)
COM 8
HP: 16
Init: +5
BAB/Grapple: +0/+2
Speed: 20ft/20' Climb
Light Cross Bow +5 (1d6; 19-20/x2; 80')
Kama +4 (1d4+1;x2) (+1 size; +1 str; +1 masterwork; +1weapon focus)
ACP: 0
AC: 18 (+2 masterwork chitin armour, +5 Dex; +1 Size)
Touch/Flatfooted: 16/13
Fort: +3
Ref: +7
Will: +6 (+2 vs enchantment spells and spell like abilities and effects; +2 spells and spell like abilities)
Skills:
Balance 9 (4 ranks;+5 Dex)
Climb 5 (4 ranks; +1 Dex)
Concentration 3 (2 ranks; +1 Con)
Decipher Script 5 (2 ranks;+3 Int)
Disable Device 7 (2 ranks; +3 Int; +2 Masterwork Thieves Tools)
Escape Artist 6 (1 rank; +5 Dex)
Hide 12 (3 ranks; +5 Dex; +4 Racial)
Heal 4 (0 ranks; +4 Wis)
Jump 5 (4 ranks; +1 Str)
Knowledge (Religion) 4 (1 rank; +3 Int)
Listen 8 (4 ranks; +4 Wis; +2 Racial)
Move Silently 12 (3 ranks; +5 Dex; +4 Racial)
Open Lock 9 (2 ranks; +5 Dex; +2 Masterwork Thieves Tools)
Search 9 (4 ranks; +3 Int; +2 Racial)
Sleight of Hand 7 (2 ranks; +5 Dex)
Spellcraft 5 (2 ranks; +3 Int)
Spot 8 (2 ranks; +4 Wis; +2 Racial)
Tumble 9 (4 ranks; +5 Dex)
Use Magic Device 1 (1 rank)
Use Rope 9 (4 ranks; +5 Dex)
Languages: Xen-Drik Drow; Drow, sign; Draconic; Giant; Infernal
Feats:
Brachiation (c.adv) (Move through trees of a certain denseness at base speed)
Exotic Weapon - Kama (War Domain - ? not sure if the special feature of the war domain extends to exotic weapon proficiencies, I can't see why it wouldn't, should just read weapon proficiency in deities favoured weapon??)
Weapon Focus (Kama) - (War Domain)
Abilities:
Racial
Dark vision 120'
Light Blindness
Spell Like Abilities 1/day - Dancing Lights; Darkness; Faerie Fire
Rogue
Sneak Attack +1d6 damage
Trap Finding
Cleric
Command/Rebuke Undead (D20+Cha - 3/day)
Domains - Destruction; War
Spells Day: (3, 1+1,)
0-lvl spells (DC 14)
Detect Magic
Read Magic
Resistance
1-lvl spells (DC15)
Inflict Light Wounds
Sanctuary
Items:
20 Bolts - 2lb
Light Crossbow - 4lb
Masterwork Chitin Armour - 10lb
Masterwork Karma - 2lb
Scroll Case - (belt) - .5lb
Flask (pouch) - 1.5lb
Flint and Steel (pouch)
Belt Pouch - .5lb
Waterskin - 4lb
Whetstone (pouch) - 1lb
Masterwork thieves Tools (pouch) - 2lb
Dust Tracelessness (pouch)
Scroll Cure Light Wounds
Total wt: 27.5 lbs.
Monies: 11gp, 9sp, 5cp[/sblock]
Notes
bone through nose and ears. sharpened teeth. wears no shoes; fast, wiry,
adept of Vulkoor. he and his treat the Skorn with reverance. As for the other half bloods, they're just distrusted by the Zinill as a matter of course, maybe these two adventuring companions will prove the exception to the rule. The Zinill live in trees and generally feel more comfortable off the ground than on. Khek tends to get very fidgity and uptight when forced onto the ground for extended periods. If he is on the ground he is always on the move, as though staying in one spot hurts him. Khek isn't very good with interacting with others, he tends to see a meal rather than an equal when talking to any but drow.
Khek-Tahaal
Elf (Drow - Zin'll) Rogue 1/Cleric 1 (XP 2,000) Alignment: CN (spontaneuos cure)
Height: 3'6" Weight: 36lbs. Age: 16
hair: white eyes: red skin: black with white scorpion acid scars
Region of Origin: Xen-Drik
Deity: Vulkoor
[sblock]
STR 12 (+1)
DEX 20 (+5)
CON 12 (+1)
INT 16 (+3)
WIS 18 (+4)
CHA 10 (+0)
COM 8
HP: 16
Init: +5
BAB/Grapple: +0/+2
Speed: 20ft/20' Climb
Light Cross Bow +5 (1d6; 19-20/x2; 80')
Kama +4 (1d4+1;x2) (+1 size; +1 str; +1 masterwork; +1weapon focus)
ACP: 0
AC: 18 (+2 masterwork chitin armour, +5 Dex; +1 Size)
Touch/Flatfooted: 16/13
Fort: +3
Ref: +7
Will: +6 (+2 vs enchantment spells and spell like abilities and effects; +2 spells and spell like abilities)
Skills:
Balance 9 (4 ranks;+5 Dex)
Climb 5 (4 ranks; +1 Dex)
Concentration 3 (2 ranks; +1 Con)
Decipher Script 5 (2 ranks;+3 Int)
Disable Device 7 (2 ranks; +3 Int; +2 Masterwork Thieves Tools)
Escape Artist 6 (1 rank; +5 Dex)
Hide 12 (3 ranks; +5 Dex; +4 Racial)
Heal 4 (0 ranks; +4 Wis)
Jump 5 (4 ranks; +1 Str)
Knowledge (Religion) 4 (1 rank; +3 Int)
Listen 8 (4 ranks; +4 Wis; +2 Racial)
Move Silently 12 (3 ranks; +5 Dex; +4 Racial)
Open Lock 9 (2 ranks; +5 Dex; +2 Masterwork Thieves Tools)
Search 9 (4 ranks; +3 Int; +2 Racial)
Sleight of Hand 7 (2 ranks; +5 Dex)
Spellcraft 5 (2 ranks; +3 Int)
Spot 8 (2 ranks; +4 Wis; +2 Racial)
Tumble 9 (4 ranks; +5 Dex)
Use Magic Device 1 (1 rank)
Use Rope 9 (4 ranks; +5 Dex)
Languages: Xen-Drik Drow; Drow, sign; Draconic; Giant; Infernal
Feats:
Brachiation (c.adv) (Move through trees of a certain denseness at base speed)
Exotic Weapon - Kama (War Domain - ? not sure if the special feature of the war domain extends to exotic weapon proficiencies, I can't see why it wouldn't, should just read weapon proficiency in deities favoured weapon??)
Weapon Focus (Kama) - (War Domain)
Abilities:
Racial
Dark vision 120'
Light Blindness
Spell Like Abilities 1/day - Dancing Lights; Darkness; Faerie Fire
Rogue
Sneak Attack +1d6 damage
Trap Finding
Cleric
Command/Rebuke Undead (D20+Cha - 3/day)
Domains - Destruction; War
Spells Day: (3, 1+1,)
0-lvl spells (DC 14)
Detect Magic
Read Magic
Resistance
1-lvl spells (DC15)
Inflict Light Wounds
Sanctuary
Items:
20 Bolts - 2lb
Light Crossbow - 4lb
Masterwork Chitin Armour - 10lb
Masterwork Karma - 2lb
Scroll Case - (belt) - .5lb
Flask (pouch) - 1.5lb
Flint and Steel (pouch)
Belt Pouch - .5lb
Waterskin - 4lb
Whetstone (pouch) - 1lb
Masterwork thieves Tools (pouch) - 2lb
Dust Tracelessness (pouch)
Scroll Cure Light Wounds
Total wt: 27.5 lbs.
Monies: 11gp, 9sp, 5cp[/sblock]
Notes
bone through nose and ears. sharpened teeth. wears no shoes; fast, wiry,
adept of Vulkoor. he and his treat the Skorn with reverance. As for the other half bloods, they're just distrusted by the Zinill as a matter of course, maybe these two adventuring companions will prove the exception to the rule. The Zinill live in trees and generally feel more comfortable off the ground than on. Khek tends to get very fidgity and uptight when forced onto the ground for extended periods. If he is on the ground he is always on the move, as though staying in one spot hurts him. Khek isn't very good with interacting with others, he tends to see a meal rather than an equal when talking to any but drow.
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