lior_shapira
Explorer
Here is a character I created for a soon to begin Eberron campaign, I'd appreciate comments on the background story, the character itself... 
Game Stats
NomKalTash(Nom)
Kalashtar Psion(Shaper)2: CR 2; ECL 2; Size M; HD 2d4; hp 7; Init +1; Spd 30 ft; AC 13, touch 11, FF 12; BAB +1; Grapple +0; Atk: +0 melee (1d3 - 1, Unarmed), +0 melee (1d6 - 1, Quarterstaff); SQ Immunity to the dream effects, +2 vs Mind-affecting, Naturally Psionic, Psi-like Abilities;
SV Fort +0, Ref +1, Will +5; AL LG; Str 8, Dex 12, Con 10, Int 16, Wis 14, Cha 14.
Languages spoken: Common and Quor. Bonus Languages: Draconic and Riedran
Skills and Feats: Bluff +6, Concentration +5, Disguise +4, Knowledge (Arcana) +6, Knowledge (Psionics) +8, Psicraft +10, Use Psionic Device +5; Boost Construct, Research.
Power Points: 11.
Powers Known: Catfall, Vigor, Astral construct, Energy ray, Force scre.
Background Story
He lay on the cold stone floor of the library curled up in a fetal position, dropping the tomes I rushed to him and rolled him unto his back. Vacant eyes stared back at me, hollow empty black orbs. As a shout started to form in my throat, icy tendrils of a thought not my own clasped at my mind and I felt consciousness slipping away...
I mostly remember Korrandar, it's high peaks forever hidden by clouds, I remember stories about the storm guardians, the dragons who dwell in the mountains and protect us from The Inspired. But that I fear is all. I have no memory of my father or mother, who have been dead all these years, I have no recollection of Malieki stronghold where I was born and lived. I have no recollection of that night of fire, fifty years ago when Tai-Khad, my Khiri-Meth(mentor), took my away with him.
My first memory of my new life is the waves crashing on our ship as we sailed toward Khorvaire, the salty taste of the air and the cries of sea gulls as we neared land. I must have been seven years old as we landed in the port town of Ader in Q'Bara and yet all that came before is darkness.
From the little the Khiri-Meth told me I deduced that it was soldiers of The Thousand Eyes who stormed us that night, crawling like the maggots they are through sewage tunnels and ancient caverns until reaching the innards of the fortress. My parents perished that night and Tai-Khad took it on himself to raise me as his own.
Tired of our jailed existence he decided to brave a journay to a new land, a land torn in a vicious war, where a man of any race can make a name for himself and perhaps make a difference in the grand sense of schemes.
It was not an easy life, growing amongst alien races, fearing the Inspired always, working to hone the skills that would someday, hopefully, allow me to help my people. We settled down in Sharn, City of Towers, my master taking work as a researcher at the university, and me, his apprentice at all things.
"The Dreaming Dark" I thought as the world paled in my eyes, finally catching up to us...
I know not whether it was luck or the Path of Light guiding me, but I managed to call upon a force to fight for me. As my would be assasin and my champion battled, I fled. I will not hide from the truth, I ran until I could run no more, leaving Tai-Khad for dead, protecting only my own miserable existence.
When I returned the next day there was no trace of the attacker, my master has been rushed to the hospital, only to remain in a comatose state. He does not recognize me, I cannot reach him. I've tried to touch his thought, whisper in his mind, to no avail.
A few thrown books and a spilled ink bottle are all that were left in the library and the university funded investigators found nothing. I'm not sure they even believe me it was the work of the Inspired. But I know and that is enough.
Too long have I been in this self made prison of books and scrolls, replacing the mountain fortresses of Adar with this fortress of knowledge. I will go into this world, for good or for bad, will all my shortcomings and fears. Perhaps a cure can be found for my master, perhaps I will be able to fight the Dreaming Dark, perhaps I will restore my honor... that is what I am going to find out. - NomKalTash of the Kalashtar
Appearence
Standing 5'10" tall, NomKalTash is a thinly built male Kalashtar of fair complexion. Long brown hair with specks of gray adorn his somewhat angular face. Blue eyes and a strong nose are accentuated by deep worry lines running down his face.
A young Kalashtar, NomKalTash is 55 years old and may yet live to see 250. There is spring in his steps although he walks quietly and hesitantly, used more to the company of books and solitude than to the rough manner of men.
He usually dresses in simple colors, brown and black or a dark red. Usually light cotton clothes and simple shoes.
He carries no weapon and bears no armor, or at least such was his manner in his secure life so far.
His voice is a deep barritone and while speaking common, only the faintest foreign accent can be heard in his voice.
Game Stats
NomKalTash(Nom)
Kalashtar Psion(Shaper)2: CR 2; ECL 2; Size M; HD 2d4; hp 7; Init +1; Spd 30 ft; AC 13, touch 11, FF 12; BAB +1; Grapple +0; Atk: +0 melee (1d3 - 1, Unarmed), +0 melee (1d6 - 1, Quarterstaff); SQ Immunity to the dream effects, +2 vs Mind-affecting, Naturally Psionic, Psi-like Abilities;
SV Fort +0, Ref +1, Will +5; AL LG; Str 8, Dex 12, Con 10, Int 16, Wis 14, Cha 14.
Languages spoken: Common and Quor. Bonus Languages: Draconic and Riedran
Skills and Feats: Bluff +6, Concentration +5, Disguise +4, Knowledge (Arcana) +6, Knowledge (Psionics) +8, Psicraft +10, Use Psionic Device +5; Boost Construct, Research.
Power Points: 11.
Powers Known: Catfall, Vigor, Astral construct, Energy ray, Force scre.
Background Story
He lay on the cold stone floor of the library curled up in a fetal position, dropping the tomes I rushed to him and rolled him unto his back. Vacant eyes stared back at me, hollow empty black orbs. As a shout started to form in my throat, icy tendrils of a thought not my own clasped at my mind and I felt consciousness slipping away...
I mostly remember Korrandar, it's high peaks forever hidden by clouds, I remember stories about the storm guardians, the dragons who dwell in the mountains and protect us from The Inspired. But that I fear is all. I have no memory of my father or mother, who have been dead all these years, I have no recollection of Malieki stronghold where I was born and lived. I have no recollection of that night of fire, fifty years ago when Tai-Khad, my Khiri-Meth(mentor), took my away with him.
My first memory of my new life is the waves crashing on our ship as we sailed toward Khorvaire, the salty taste of the air and the cries of sea gulls as we neared land. I must have been seven years old as we landed in the port town of Ader in Q'Bara and yet all that came before is darkness.
From the little the Khiri-Meth told me I deduced that it was soldiers of The Thousand Eyes who stormed us that night, crawling like the maggots they are through sewage tunnels and ancient caverns until reaching the innards of the fortress. My parents perished that night and Tai-Khad took it on himself to raise me as his own.
Tired of our jailed existence he decided to brave a journay to a new land, a land torn in a vicious war, where a man of any race can make a name for himself and perhaps make a difference in the grand sense of schemes.
It was not an easy life, growing amongst alien races, fearing the Inspired always, working to hone the skills that would someday, hopefully, allow me to help my people. We settled down in Sharn, City of Towers, my master taking work as a researcher at the university, and me, his apprentice at all things.
"The Dreaming Dark" I thought as the world paled in my eyes, finally catching up to us...
I know not whether it was luck or the Path of Light guiding me, but I managed to call upon a force to fight for me. As my would be assasin and my champion battled, I fled. I will not hide from the truth, I ran until I could run no more, leaving Tai-Khad for dead, protecting only my own miserable existence.
When I returned the next day there was no trace of the attacker, my master has been rushed to the hospital, only to remain in a comatose state. He does not recognize me, I cannot reach him. I've tried to touch his thought, whisper in his mind, to no avail.
A few thrown books and a spilled ink bottle are all that were left in the library and the university funded investigators found nothing. I'm not sure they even believe me it was the work of the Inspired. But I know and that is enough.
Too long have I been in this self made prison of books and scrolls, replacing the mountain fortresses of Adar with this fortress of knowledge. I will go into this world, for good or for bad, will all my shortcomings and fears. Perhaps a cure can be found for my master, perhaps I will be able to fight the Dreaming Dark, perhaps I will restore my honor... that is what I am going to find out. - NomKalTash of the Kalashtar
Appearence
Standing 5'10" tall, NomKalTash is a thinly built male Kalashtar of fair complexion. Long brown hair with specks of gray adorn his somewhat angular face. Blue eyes and a strong nose are accentuated by deep worry lines running down his face.
A young Kalashtar, NomKalTash is 55 years old and may yet live to see 250. There is spring in his steps although he walks quietly and hesitantly, used more to the company of books and solitude than to the rough manner of men.
He usually dresses in simple colors, brown and black or a dark red. Usually light cotton clothes and simple shoes.
He carries no weapon and bears no armor, or at least such was his manner in his secure life so far.
His voice is a deep barritone and while speaking common, only the faintest foreign accent can be heard in his voice.
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