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Message: <blockquote data-quote="James Heard" data-source="post: 2474716" data-attributes="member: 7280">I haven't finished him, or even finished formatting him, but I thought I'd post what I have to see if I could try to get in on this and see how this IH thing goes. I haven't the slightest clue if I've screwed up something so far, which is kind of nice. Everyone likes surprises, right?MoromoHuman Man-At-Arms 1medium humanoid (human)Init  SensesLanguages Common, First Speech, Ferrish-------------------------------ACDRHP 12 (1d4+6/level)Fortitude Reflex Willpower-------------------------------SpeedBase AttackMeleeRangedAttack OptionsCombat Gear-------------------------------Abilities Str 15 Dex 15 Con 15 Int 14 Wis 15 Cha 10Traits Resilient Toughness, Nomad: Cavalry WarriorFeats All simple and martial weapons, all armor, and all shields; Mounted Combat 1, Mounted Archery 1, War Leader 1Skills Perception 4, Wilderness Lore 4, Social 4, Appraise 2, Balance 2, Climb 3, Concentration 4, Escape Artist 3, Heal 4, Swim 2Moromo never knew his father, nor his mother either, having spent his early years passed around the small village where he was raised as a sort of communal slave, performing minor tasks for scraps of bread and bits of foul discards from the villagers' tables. That changed when Moromo was eight years old and the armored riders from the east came charging out of the forest, burned the village to the ground and took everyone as slaves. Many villagers died on the long march from the village from exhaustion, many more died from the appetites of the soldiers that took them. Moromo, always a slave, persisted.Several years went by, and Moromo was passed by coin or promise to a dazzling variety of owners until his last owner found himself impaled upon the tip of a lance by more grizzled and frightening riders. Those riders told Moromo that he was free, but Moromo knew in his heart he was not free. So he followed the riders on foot for long months, following the crushed swath of plains grasses deep into each night so that he could find the riders in the morning as they made camp. At first the riders were not amused and thought him a foe, throwing stones at Moromo. Eventually though, when he could not catch up by daybreak they would wait for him like a trustworthy dog. As the dog grew older though, and the riders grew leaner, they eventually found themselves before a keep of similar individuals and decided to kill those worthies and set up shop inside it themselves.Moromo was welcomed inside the still smoldering keep to aid the new owners in disposing of the bodies, and welcomed longer for the ear he lent to aging veterans of the eternal struggle. Eventually the riders, having few or no children of their own, began to treat Moromo as that worthy. They taught him the mechanics of death like few others might, took him raiding upon the neighboring villages, and Moromo experienced the thrill of the twilight of life & death from the other end of the blade.His experience with the riders ended one night swiftly. Moromo waited till all of the old men were drunk and sotted with wine, slew as many of them as his arm could withstand, and burned the keep to the ground as Moromo waited outside to slay the survivors. When his "father" finally caught up with him with his summons, Moromo was already fast working through his taste for blood that the riders unleashed in him. Having nothing better to do than follow the notions of a powerful madman, Moromo went.PersonalityMoromo possesses a sharp wit and tongue when he chooses to use it, as well as the smooth manner of one well-accustomed to having to ingratiate themselves or face a pike.AppearanceTall, lean, and dark, Moromo's appearance is marked mostly by his hollow, empty eyes. People seem to see different things in there, and truly he might be handsome to some if it weren't for that portion of his anatomy's betrayal of his soul.</blockquote>

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