Hammerhead
Explorer
Name: The Lightbringer
Civilian ID: Tendak Lightbringer
Faction: The Fated
Power Level: 15
Points Earned:
Points Spent:
Sex: Male
Age: 31
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 168 lbs.
Eyes: Gold
Hair: Gold
Costume: Finely-made clothes
Identity: Public
Abilities:
STR: 14 (+2)
DEX: 20 (+5)
CON: 14 (+2)
INT: 20 (+5)
WIS: 20 (+5)
CHR: 20 (+5)
(Total ability pp =48 )
Saves:
Damage: +4/+17
Fort: +9
Reflex: +15
Will: +15
Attacks:
Base: +10 (30 pp)
Melee: +15
Ranged: +15
Defense:
Base: +8 (16 pp)
Defense: 34
Flat Footed: 18
Initiative: +19
Hero Points: 10
Speed: 55 ft., leap 25 ft.
Skills (Ranks): Acrobatics +16 (1), Bluff +20 (5), Diplomacy +17 (0), Disguise +17 (0) Disable Device +11 (1), Hide +15 (0) Intimidate +17 (0), Languages +3 (Celestial, Abyssal, Infernal), Listen +10 (0), Move Silently +15 (0), Open Locks +16 (1), Sense Motive +10, Sleight of Hand +18 (1), Spot +10, Survival +10, Taunt +17 (0)
(Total pp spent in skill =12 )
Feats: Attack Finesse, Attractive, Dodge, Evasion, Great Fortitude, Hero's Luck (3), Heroic Surge, Improved Initiative, Inspire, Leadership, Rapid Strike, Surprise Strike, Throwing Mastery, Toughness, See Invisibility, True Sight.
(Total pp spent in feats = 36)
Super Powers:
Energy Control (Light) +10 (Extras: Strike; Power Stunts: Dazzle (Area) +5, Dual Damage; Source: Mystical (Divine); Total Cost 34pp)
Super Dexterity +10 (Extras: Super Charisma +10, Super Wisdom +5, Super Intelligence +5, Running +5, Amazing Save +5 (Fortitude, Will); Power Stunts: Leaping (Bouncing); Source: Training; Total Cost 77 pp)
(Total pp spent in powers = 111pp)
Weaknesses: Vulnerable (Darkness), Unlucky, Selfish
Background:
"The blow came suddenly, without warning, and I found myself sprawled out on the ground, blood dripping from my nose and a fiery pain engulfing my mind. That was the first, and last time my father, Darek Lightbringer, the famed champion, had struck me. I was fifteen years old that day.
I'm still not sure why he hit me. Sure, I was being flippant and obnoxious, but I was always flippant and obnoxious. Now, I realize that it probably wasn't what I did, but who I was. A Dawnherald. One of the legendary aasimar who can control the celestial radiance of Pelor, Lathander, Apollo, whoever you call him. Now, most of my race can just create some sort of soft glow. Me, I can do a lot more with it, like create a blade of light that can slice through steel, or blast a crowd with enough light that it will temporarily blind the fools.
All these Dawnheralds of the past were mighty and great heroes, and I never exactly cared to live up to this reputation. Me, I'm smart enough to know that heroism generally leads to an early grave. I'd rather live life for my own sake than sacrifice it for some other worthless idiot.
After my dad Darek hit me, I found myself shipped off to some prime world, commisioned as an officer in one of their militaries. Said I would learn some discipline there, or some other garbage. Well, I learned many things in the army, but discipline wasn't one of them. I became a master of leadership, tactics, and strategy. I studied under their finest blade, who taught me many intricacies of swordsmanship. I also learned quite a bit from the common soldiers who I led: how to cut a man's throat (something I certainly would never have learned from my father), how to gamble, how to cheat, how to steal, well, you get the idea.
After about a year with the army, I grew bored. Although I was already a colonel and enjoying many fine priveliges, I knew my father might come calling. So I took my best and most loyal troops and deserted, forming my own mercenary company. That didn't last too long before I had to leave because of some unpleasant company in the form of my younger brother, Melthar.
I know I haven't mentioned Melthar yet, because there really isn't that much to tell. He grew up as dad's favorite kid. Melthar called him sir, was honest, forthright, thrifty, etcetera, etcetera, etcertera. He hated me, of course, because I was the Dawnherald and got all of Darek's attention. So he compensates for his childhood inadequacies by making my life hell, when he can. He's some Mercykiller now who always seems a step behind me, trying to kill me. (My other brother also tries to kill me from time to time, but that's another story).
After this first unfortunate incident involving my younger brother Melthar, I found a portal back to Sigil, and after some thought, joined the Fated. I wasn't sure what to do with my life next. All I had ever really known was the military life, and I wasn't exactly in a hurry to go back to that. Then I bumped into a blood named Metatron, a powerful arcanist.
I worked for Metatron for about three years, serving as his agent. I was paid well, and the work was interesting. I mainly worked in the Upper Planes and various Primes, occasionally around Sigil. Then, one day, he disappeared. I was counting on him to hold open a portal back to Sigil after I finished discussing some things with some white dragon. It was child's play for him. Of course, there was no portal when I got back. So here I was, stuck in the frigid world of Syglacia holding a white dragon's eye while snow piled up around my knees, hoping that the portal would open. I probably would have died there if that hermit hadn't arrived.
I tried communicating with the old man in mangy furs, but we didn't exactly share the same language. We shouted at each other for a few minutes, until I killed him, stole his furs, and followed his footprints back to his cave. It took me about a year to find a way back to Sigil, but I finally did.
I spent the next few years adventuring throughout the planes and Sigil, sometimes alone, sometimes with a few friends, interrupted by various tragedies and misfortunes, usually in the form of my brothers, I occasionally heard gossip and rumors about Metatron, but I never saw or heard from his again, despite my efforts. Until, in the middle of a game of Devil's Dice with a pair of abishai and an efreet, I get a package telling me the old sorcerer is dead, and I have something to do with his will or estate or something. I was actually kind of sad to hear the news, since I kind of liked him and I never did figure out why he left me in the middle of some god-forsaken (yes, literally, there were no gods worshipped there) winterland. Maybe I will never get any answer, but this could be an opportunity for personal profit, at the very least.
Civilian ID: Tendak Lightbringer
Faction: The Fated
Power Level: 15
Points Earned:
Points Spent:
Sex: Male
Age: 31
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 168 lbs.
Eyes: Gold
Hair: Gold
Costume: Finely-made clothes
Identity: Public
Abilities:
STR: 14 (+2)
DEX: 20 (+5)
CON: 14 (+2)
INT: 20 (+5)
WIS: 20 (+5)
CHR: 20 (+5)
(Total ability pp =48 )
Saves:
Damage: +4/+17
Fort: +9
Reflex: +15
Will: +15
Attacks:
Base: +10 (30 pp)
Melee: +15
Ranged: +15
Defense:
Base: +8 (16 pp)
Defense: 34
Flat Footed: 18
Initiative: +19
Hero Points: 10
Speed: 55 ft., leap 25 ft.
Skills (Ranks): Acrobatics +16 (1), Bluff +20 (5), Diplomacy +17 (0), Disguise +17 (0) Disable Device +11 (1), Hide +15 (0) Intimidate +17 (0), Languages +3 (Celestial, Abyssal, Infernal), Listen +10 (0), Move Silently +15 (0), Open Locks +16 (1), Sense Motive +10, Sleight of Hand +18 (1), Spot +10, Survival +10, Taunt +17 (0)
(Total pp spent in skill =12 )
Feats: Attack Finesse, Attractive, Dodge, Evasion, Great Fortitude, Hero's Luck (3), Heroic Surge, Improved Initiative, Inspire, Leadership, Rapid Strike, Surprise Strike, Throwing Mastery, Toughness, See Invisibility, True Sight.
(Total pp spent in feats = 36)
Super Powers:
Energy Control (Light) +10 (Extras: Strike; Power Stunts: Dazzle (Area) +5, Dual Damage; Source: Mystical (Divine); Total Cost 34pp)
Super Dexterity +10 (Extras: Super Charisma +10, Super Wisdom +5, Super Intelligence +5, Running +5, Amazing Save +5 (Fortitude, Will); Power Stunts: Leaping (Bouncing); Source: Training; Total Cost 77 pp)
(Total pp spent in powers = 111pp)
Weaknesses: Vulnerable (Darkness), Unlucky, Selfish
Background:
"The blow came suddenly, without warning, and I found myself sprawled out on the ground, blood dripping from my nose and a fiery pain engulfing my mind. That was the first, and last time my father, Darek Lightbringer, the famed champion, had struck me. I was fifteen years old that day.
I'm still not sure why he hit me. Sure, I was being flippant and obnoxious, but I was always flippant and obnoxious. Now, I realize that it probably wasn't what I did, but who I was. A Dawnherald. One of the legendary aasimar who can control the celestial radiance of Pelor, Lathander, Apollo, whoever you call him. Now, most of my race can just create some sort of soft glow. Me, I can do a lot more with it, like create a blade of light that can slice through steel, or blast a crowd with enough light that it will temporarily blind the fools.
All these Dawnheralds of the past were mighty and great heroes, and I never exactly cared to live up to this reputation. Me, I'm smart enough to know that heroism generally leads to an early grave. I'd rather live life for my own sake than sacrifice it for some other worthless idiot.
After my dad Darek hit me, I found myself shipped off to some prime world, commisioned as an officer in one of their militaries. Said I would learn some discipline there, or some other garbage. Well, I learned many things in the army, but discipline wasn't one of them. I became a master of leadership, tactics, and strategy. I studied under their finest blade, who taught me many intricacies of swordsmanship. I also learned quite a bit from the common soldiers who I led: how to cut a man's throat (something I certainly would never have learned from my father), how to gamble, how to cheat, how to steal, well, you get the idea.
After about a year with the army, I grew bored. Although I was already a colonel and enjoying many fine priveliges, I knew my father might come calling. So I took my best and most loyal troops and deserted, forming my own mercenary company. That didn't last too long before I had to leave because of some unpleasant company in the form of my younger brother, Melthar.
I know I haven't mentioned Melthar yet, because there really isn't that much to tell. He grew up as dad's favorite kid. Melthar called him sir, was honest, forthright, thrifty, etcetera, etcetera, etcertera. He hated me, of course, because I was the Dawnherald and got all of Darek's attention. So he compensates for his childhood inadequacies by making my life hell, when he can. He's some Mercykiller now who always seems a step behind me, trying to kill me. (My other brother also tries to kill me from time to time, but that's another story).
After this first unfortunate incident involving my younger brother Melthar, I found a portal back to Sigil, and after some thought, joined the Fated. I wasn't sure what to do with my life next. All I had ever really known was the military life, and I wasn't exactly in a hurry to go back to that. Then I bumped into a blood named Metatron, a powerful arcanist.
I worked for Metatron for about three years, serving as his agent. I was paid well, and the work was interesting. I mainly worked in the Upper Planes and various Primes, occasionally around Sigil. Then, one day, he disappeared. I was counting on him to hold open a portal back to Sigil after I finished discussing some things with some white dragon. It was child's play for him. Of course, there was no portal when I got back. So here I was, stuck in the frigid world of Syglacia holding a white dragon's eye while snow piled up around my knees, hoping that the portal would open. I probably would have died there if that hermit hadn't arrived.
I tried communicating with the old man in mangy furs, but we didn't exactly share the same language. We shouted at each other for a few minutes, until I killed him, stole his furs, and followed his footprints back to his cave. It took me about a year to find a way back to Sigil, but I finally did.
I spent the next few years adventuring throughout the planes and Sigil, sometimes alone, sometimes with a few friends, interrupted by various tragedies and misfortunes, usually in the form of my brothers, I occasionally heard gossip and rumors about Metatron, but I never saw or heard from his again, despite my efforts. Until, in the middle of a game of Devil's Dice with a pair of abishai and an efreet, I get a package telling me the old sorcerer is dead, and I have something to do with his will or estate or something. I was actually kind of sad to hear the news, since I kind of liked him and I never did figure out why he left me in the middle of some god-forsaken (yes, literally, there were no gods worshipped there) winterland. Maybe I will never get any answer, but this could be an opportunity for personal profit, at the very least.
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