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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
Puppy Kicking PCs
- Thread starter Ankh-Morpork Guard
- Start date
- Status
Paxus Asclepius
First Post
Gwyn ap Fomor Human Half-fiend1/Ranger 2 (non-casting variant)
Str 14 (6 points)
Dex 14 (4 points, +2 template)
Con 14 (6 points)
Int 12 (4 points)
Wis 10 (2 points)
Cha 14 (6 points)
Skills:
Heal +5 [5 ranks]
Hide +7 [5 ranks, +2 Dex]
Intimidate +9 [5 ranks, +2 Cha, +2 feat]
Listen +5 [5 ranks]
Move Silently +7 [5 ranks, +2 Dex]
Search +6 [5 ranks, +1 Int]
Spot +5 [5 ranks]
Survival +5 [5 ranks]
Languages:Common, Abyssal
Feats: Improved Buckler Defense, Cosmopolitan: Intimidate, TWF (bonus), Track (bonus)
Class Abilities: Favored enemy +2 (humans), Wild Empathy (+4)
Racial Abilities: Darkness 3/day, claws (1d4 damage), outsider, natural armor +1, darkvision 60 feet
HP: 18
AC: 19 (Dex +2, armor +5, shield +1, natural +1)
Attacks: +5 scimitar, +3 scimitar/+3 pick, +5 composite longbow, +4 truncheon
Damage: 1d6+2, 18-20/x2 scimitar, 1d4+1 20/x4 pick, 1d8+2 longbow, 1d8+2 truncheon
F+5
R+5
W+2
EQ: +1 chain shirt, MW buckler, MW scimitar, MW light pick, MW composite longbow mighty +2, truncheon, 3 potions of CLW, 60 arrows, 22 gp.
Appearance: Gwyn dresses in drab browns and greens when in the woods; in civilization, he prefers dark grays. He is the stereotypical hooded stranger in a bar, tall, dark-haired, and strangely handsome, at least initially. He appears sympathetic, almost friendly, to most strangers, but a perceptive individual will note that the smile never reaches his ruby eyes.
Background: Gwyn was born of the violent union of a cornugon and a hapless milkmaid. At eight months, he tore his way free of his mother's womb, impatient to enter the world he already viewed as his playpen. Unsurprisingly, the villagers exposed him on a mountaintop, in the firm knowledge that the gods would dispose of this demonspawned monstrosity. Instead, he crawled his way to the nearest road, where he was found by pilgrims and brought to an orphanage. It took the monks, followers of the god of mercy, nine years before they admitted to themselves that Gwyn was irredeemably evil, during which time he had tortured and tormented the other three dozen orphans. When the paladin arrived to dispatch him (the monks being sworn to pacifism), Gwyn fled into the wilderness. In the decade that followed, he has gone back and forth between solitary mayhem and group brigandage, though most bandits can only tolerate him so long before even the hardest hearts are sickened.
Personality: To call Gwyn "sadistic" is as great an understatement as calling the tarrasque "capable in combat." He delights only in the unmitigated terror of others; physical suffering is amusing, but ultimately inadequate. As a result of his fiendish blood, he considers himself inherently superior to almost every humanoid, and this superiority gives him not only a right, but an obligation, to use lesser beings as his playthings. Oddly, he has a strong sense of beauty; while he delights in shattering minds, especially of young women, he refuses to mar their faces, and were he to burn down a cathedral, he would likely take the time to remove the stained glass windows, while leaving the screaming parishioners inside.
Str 14 (6 points)
Dex 14 (4 points, +2 template)
Con 14 (6 points)
Int 12 (4 points)
Wis 10 (2 points)
Cha 14 (6 points)
Skills:
Heal +5 [5 ranks]
Hide +7 [5 ranks, +2 Dex]
Intimidate +9 [5 ranks, +2 Cha, +2 feat]
Listen +5 [5 ranks]
Move Silently +7 [5 ranks, +2 Dex]
Search +6 [5 ranks, +1 Int]
Spot +5 [5 ranks]
Survival +5 [5 ranks]
Languages:Common, Abyssal
Feats: Improved Buckler Defense, Cosmopolitan: Intimidate, TWF (bonus), Track (bonus)
Class Abilities: Favored enemy +2 (humans), Wild Empathy (+4)
Racial Abilities: Darkness 3/day, claws (1d4 damage), outsider, natural armor +1, darkvision 60 feet
HP: 18
AC: 19 (Dex +2, armor +5, shield +1, natural +1)
Attacks: +5 scimitar, +3 scimitar/+3 pick, +5 composite longbow, +4 truncheon
Damage: 1d6+2, 18-20/x2 scimitar, 1d4+1 20/x4 pick, 1d8+2 longbow, 1d8+2 truncheon
F+5
R+5
W+2
EQ: +1 chain shirt, MW buckler, MW scimitar, MW light pick, MW composite longbow mighty +2, truncheon, 3 potions of CLW, 60 arrows, 22 gp.
Appearance: Gwyn dresses in drab browns and greens when in the woods; in civilization, he prefers dark grays. He is the stereotypical hooded stranger in a bar, tall, dark-haired, and strangely handsome, at least initially. He appears sympathetic, almost friendly, to most strangers, but a perceptive individual will note that the smile never reaches his ruby eyes.
Background: Gwyn was born of the violent union of a cornugon and a hapless milkmaid. At eight months, he tore his way free of his mother's womb, impatient to enter the world he already viewed as his playpen. Unsurprisingly, the villagers exposed him on a mountaintop, in the firm knowledge that the gods would dispose of this demonspawned monstrosity. Instead, he crawled his way to the nearest road, where he was found by pilgrims and brought to an orphanage. It took the monks, followers of the god of mercy, nine years before they admitted to themselves that Gwyn was irredeemably evil, during which time he had tortured and tormented the other three dozen orphans. When the paladin arrived to dispatch him (the monks being sworn to pacifism), Gwyn fled into the wilderness. In the decade that followed, he has gone back and forth between solitary mayhem and group brigandage, though most bandits can only tolerate him so long before even the hardest hearts are sickened.
Personality: To call Gwyn "sadistic" is as great an understatement as calling the tarrasque "capable in combat." He delights only in the unmitigated terror of others; physical suffering is amusing, but ultimately inadequate. As a result of his fiendish blood, he considers himself inherently superior to almost every humanoid, and this superiority gives him not only a right, but an obligation, to use lesser beings as his playthings. Oddly, he has a strong sense of beauty; while he delights in shattering minds, especially of young women, he refuses to mar their faces, and were he to burn down a cathedral, he would likely take the time to remove the stained glass windows, while leaving the screaming parishioners inside.
Last edited:
NeuroZombie
Explorer
Name: Nyos Xtrigian
Class: Cleric 1, Wizard 2
Race: Human
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Alignment: Lawful Evil
HP: 16 (1d8+2d4+3-Toughness)
XP: 3,000
Str: 10
Dex: 12 +1
Con: 10
Int: 16 +3
Wis: 14 +2
Cha: 12 +1
BAB: +1, +1 Quarterstaff, + 2 Dagger, +2 Light Crossbow
Speed: 30'
Init: +1
AC: 12 (+1 Dex, +1 Ring of Protection)
Fort: +2 (+2 base)
Ref: +2 (+1 base, +1 Dex)
Will: +7 (+5 base, +3 Wis)
Weapons
Quarterstaff - Dmg 1d6, Crit 18-20(x2)
Dagger - Dmg 1d4, Crit 19-20x2, Range 10’
Light Crossbow - Dmg 1d8, Crit 19-20(x2), Range 80’
Languages: Common, Elven, Draconic, Infernal
Feats: Scribe Scroll, Toughness, Spell Focus (Necromancy), Augment Summoning, Alertness (from Familiar)
Skills: Concentration +5 (5r), Craft (Alchemy) +8 (5r), Diplomacy +3 (2r), Heal +3 (1r), Knowledge (Arcana) +8 (5r), Knowledge (Religion) +8 (5r), Knowledge (The Planes) +6 (3r), Spellcraft +7 (4r), Bluff +3 (2r), Disguise +2 (1r), Hide +2 (1r), Appraise +6 (+3f), Listen +4 (+2f), Spot +4 (+2f)
*r=ranks; f=familiar; bluff, disguise & hide come from trickery domain
Cleric Abilities:
Rebuke Undead 4/day
Death & Trickery domains
Divine Spells 4/1+1
Orisons: (prep:light x2, guidance, resistance)
1-level: (prep: bane, cause fear[domain])
Wizard Abilities:
Arcane Spell 4/3
Cantrips: all (prep: detect magic, ray of cold, acid splash, touch of fatigue)
1-level: chill touch, summon monster I, mage armor, magic missile, feather fall, ray of enfeeblement, protection from good (prep: chill touch, magic missile, ray of enfeeblement)
Equipment:
Ring of protection +1, potion of cure light wounds, spellbook, backpack, common lantern, 2 oils, 10 candles, ink & pen, 10 days rations, scroll organizer (from T&B, holds 15 scrolls) w/ 2 burning hands, 2 mage armor, 2 summon monster I, 2 inflict light wounds, light horse, bit & bridle, saddle & saddlebags, 10 days feed.
Money: 135 gp
Familiar:
Xyco the Raven
HD 3
HP 6
AC 15
Initiative +2
Attack +5 claws d2-5
Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +7
Move 10’, 40’ flying
Str 1, Dex 15, Con 10, Int 6, Wis 14, Cha 6
Listen +6, Spot +2
Weapon Finess (claws)
Speaks Common, Improved Evasion, Share Spells, Empathic Link
Age: 26
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 123lbs.
Eyes: Pale Blue
Hair: Black
Appearance: Nyos is a vision in black. He wears a pair of light, black leather breeches, belted at the waist and a matching leather vest with pockets sewn in for his spell components. He wears a dark grey poets shirt that flares with small ruffles at the end of the sleeves. He wears his long hair neatly tied in a pony tail with a tie made of small animal bones. He sports a finely shaved goatee, replete with a long, waxed mustache.
Background:
Nyos was born the third, and youngest son of a minor baron on the outskirts of the kingdom. His two older brothers were bullies that always treated the younger, smarter brother as if he were a punching bag. Every day, when he could get away from his brothers brutality, Nyos would wander the barons keep and the surrounding area plotting ways to get revenge again his older siblings. On one such occasion, Nyos discovered a hidden passageway in the keep which led to an ancient library and shrine to the god of death and trickery, Nerull. Nyos took every moment that he had and spent it within his own secret place and made a connection to his dark god. Nyos became a cleric of Nerull and his first act of villainy was to kill his brothers in cold blood. He barely escaped with his life as his father thundered, drunkenly, after him with a small contingent of guards. Nyos escaped and wherever he could, he taught himself more of magic and discovered his true calling as a cleric of Nerul and as a necromantic Wizard. Nyos now wanders the countryside in search of the lore that will help him to become something that he never was in his younger days, powerful.
Personality:
Nyos is typically a cold and calculating fellow, drawn within his own mind, scheming and planning his own rise to power. Without a steady source of income, he has stooped to adventuring as needed to gain the riches and knowledge he craves and the power that knowledge brings.
Class: Cleric 1, Wizard 2
Race: Human
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Alignment: Lawful Evil
HP: 16 (1d8+2d4+3-Toughness)
XP: 3,000
Str: 10
Dex: 12 +1
Con: 10
Int: 16 +3
Wis: 14 +2
Cha: 12 +1
BAB: +1, +1 Quarterstaff, + 2 Dagger, +2 Light Crossbow
Speed: 30'
Init: +1
AC: 12 (+1 Dex, +1 Ring of Protection)
Fort: +2 (+2 base)
Ref: +2 (+1 base, +1 Dex)
Will: +7 (+5 base, +3 Wis)
Weapons
Quarterstaff - Dmg 1d6, Crit 18-20(x2)
Dagger - Dmg 1d4, Crit 19-20x2, Range 10’
Light Crossbow - Dmg 1d8, Crit 19-20(x2), Range 80’
Languages: Common, Elven, Draconic, Infernal
Feats: Scribe Scroll, Toughness, Spell Focus (Necromancy), Augment Summoning, Alertness (from Familiar)
Skills: Concentration +5 (5r), Craft (Alchemy) +8 (5r), Diplomacy +3 (2r), Heal +3 (1r), Knowledge (Arcana) +8 (5r), Knowledge (Religion) +8 (5r), Knowledge (The Planes) +6 (3r), Spellcraft +7 (4r), Bluff +3 (2r), Disguise +2 (1r), Hide +2 (1r), Appraise +6 (+3f), Listen +4 (+2f), Spot +4 (+2f)
*r=ranks; f=familiar; bluff, disguise & hide come from trickery domain
Cleric Abilities:
Rebuke Undead 4/day
Death & Trickery domains
Divine Spells 4/1+1
Orisons: (prep:light x2, guidance, resistance)
1-level: (prep: bane, cause fear[domain])
Wizard Abilities:
Arcane Spell 4/3
Cantrips: all (prep: detect magic, ray of cold, acid splash, touch of fatigue)
1-level: chill touch, summon monster I, mage armor, magic missile, feather fall, ray of enfeeblement, protection from good (prep: chill touch, magic missile, ray of enfeeblement)
Equipment:
Ring of protection +1, potion of cure light wounds, spellbook, backpack, common lantern, 2 oils, 10 candles, ink & pen, 10 days rations, scroll organizer (from T&B, holds 15 scrolls) w/ 2 burning hands, 2 mage armor, 2 summon monster I, 2 inflict light wounds, light horse, bit & bridle, saddle & saddlebags, 10 days feed.
Money: 135 gp
Familiar:
Xyco the Raven
HD 3
HP 6
AC 15
Initiative +2
Attack +5 claws d2-5
Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +7
Move 10’, 40’ flying
Str 1, Dex 15, Con 10, Int 6, Wis 14, Cha 6
Listen +6, Spot +2
Weapon Finess (claws)
Speaks Common, Improved Evasion, Share Spells, Empathic Link
Age: 26
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 123lbs.
Eyes: Pale Blue
Hair: Black
Appearance: Nyos is a vision in black. He wears a pair of light, black leather breeches, belted at the waist and a matching leather vest with pockets sewn in for his spell components. He wears a dark grey poets shirt that flares with small ruffles at the end of the sleeves. He wears his long hair neatly tied in a pony tail with a tie made of small animal bones. He sports a finely shaved goatee, replete with a long, waxed mustache.
Background:
Nyos was born the third, and youngest son of a minor baron on the outskirts of the kingdom. His two older brothers were bullies that always treated the younger, smarter brother as if he were a punching bag. Every day, when he could get away from his brothers brutality, Nyos would wander the barons keep and the surrounding area plotting ways to get revenge again his older siblings. On one such occasion, Nyos discovered a hidden passageway in the keep which led to an ancient library and shrine to the god of death and trickery, Nerull. Nyos took every moment that he had and spent it within his own secret place and made a connection to his dark god. Nyos became a cleric of Nerull and his first act of villainy was to kill his brothers in cold blood. He barely escaped with his life as his father thundered, drunkenly, after him with a small contingent of guards. Nyos escaped and wherever he could, he taught himself more of magic and discovered his true calling as a cleric of Nerul and as a necromantic Wizard. Nyos now wanders the countryside in search of the lore that will help him to become something that he never was in his younger days, powerful.
Personality:
Nyos is typically a cold and calculating fellow, drawn within his own mind, scheming and planning his own rise to power. Without a steady source of income, he has stooped to adventuring as needed to gain the riches and knowledge he craves and the power that knowledge brings.
Name: Sunedilar al Hazir
Class: Fighter 3
Race: Human
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Alignment: Lawful Evil
HP: 27 (3d10 +1 Con)
XP: 3,000
Str: 16 (+3)
Con: 12 (+1)
Dex: 12 (+1)
Int: 14 (+2)
Wis: 10
Cha: 10
BAB: +3
AB for weapons:
- +8 with spiked chain (+3 Str, +1 MW, +1 WF)
- +6 with spiked gauntlet (+3 Str)
- +5 with heavy crossbow (+1 Dex, +1 MW)
Spd:30'
Int: +1
AC: 16 (+6 magic breastplate, +1 Dex)
Saves:
- Fort: +4 (+1 Con)
- Ref: +2 (+1 Dex)
- Will: +1
Weapons:
- Masterwork Spiked Chain (2d4+3/x2)
- Masterwork Heavy Crossbow (1d10/19-20x2)
- Spiked Gauntlets (1d4+3/x2)
Languages: Common,...
Equipment: Masterwork spiked chain, spiked gauntlet (x2), masterwork heavy crossbow, +1 breastplate, 1 potion of cat's grace, 2 potions of CLW, 2 oils of magic weapon, 60 crossbow bolt, masterwork artisan's tools, explorer's outfit, light horse, (other equipment to be bought as appropriate)
Money: 169 gp
Skills:
- Craft (Weaponsmithing) (6 ranks +2 Int) = +8
- Ride (3 ranks +1 Dex) = +4
- Appraise (weapons) (3 ranks +2 Int +2 Appraise Synergy) = +7
- Climb (3 ranks +3 Str) = +6
- Search (3 ranks +2 Int) = +5
- Knowledge (weapons) 2 (2 ranks +2 Int) = +4
- Intimidate (2 ranks) = +2
Feats:
- Combat Reflexes
- Exotic Weapon Proficiency (Spiked Chain)
- Weapon Focus (Spiked Chain)
- Combat Expertise
- Improved Disarm
Age: 24
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 186 lbs.
Eyes: Brown
Hair: None
Appearance: Sunedilar typically favors the light clothing of his homeland and his cult, wearing light, loose pants and shirts along with a vest marked with a two tailed scorpion on the back, it's stingers curling around to the front. He keeps both his face and his head shaved at all times. He most often appears to be completely impassive, but if quite capable of showing extreme rage and haughtiness when provoked.
Background: Sunedilar was born to a family of devout followers of Vorlash, the warrior god of Krinjat clan (and probably a manifestation of Hextor), a semi-nomadic people living in the Norenal Steppe, a arid scrubland area near the Golden Way, a major trade route which the Krinjat frequently raided. The al Hazir family had served the dark god from time immemorial, and Sunedilar followed the footsteps of legions of his ancestors and devoted himself to the cult.
As a warrior of Vorlash, Sunedilar studied weapons of all kinds, particularly the sacred vorlan-tal, the "twin sting" or spiked chain. When his parents were killed during a caravan raid, Sunedilar simply threw himself further into his studies, becoming a cruel and deadly fighter, internalizing not just the techniques of the cult but also its doctrines regarding taking from the weak. By the time his training ended, Sunedilar was more than ready to begin his career as a raider, looting caravans and selling captives into slavery.
After a few years, Sunedilar was called before the elders of the cult and charged with a sacred duty. Vorlash had decreed that the time was coming for the Krinjat to become more than raiders. It was time for conquest. And Sunedilar would help prepare the way. He was tasked to travel to the neighboring lands and look for weaknesses, find allies, and do whatever he could to soften the enemy up before the inevitable war. Sunedilar, seeing an opportunity to both serve his god and gain greater personal wealth and power, agreed at once.
Personality: Sunedilar keeps his emotions to himself most of the time, maintaining stoic discipline in order to avoid stupid mistakes. He finds excessive violence and cruelty distasteful unless it serves a definate purpose. He enjoys wealth and the luxuries it can provide, but he has no problem denying those things if they become distracting or get in the way of gaining power.
Class: Fighter 3
Race: Human
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Alignment: Lawful Evil
HP: 27 (3d10 +1 Con)
XP: 3,000
Str: 16 (+3)
Con: 12 (+1)
Dex: 12 (+1)
Int: 14 (+2)
Wis: 10
Cha: 10
BAB: +3
AB for weapons:
- +8 with spiked chain (+3 Str, +1 MW, +1 WF)
- +6 with spiked gauntlet (+3 Str)
- +5 with heavy crossbow (+1 Dex, +1 MW)
Spd:30'
Int: +1
AC: 16 (+6 magic breastplate, +1 Dex)
Saves:
- Fort: +4 (+1 Con)
- Ref: +2 (+1 Dex)
- Will: +1
Weapons:
- Masterwork Spiked Chain (2d4+3/x2)
- Masterwork Heavy Crossbow (1d10/19-20x2)
- Spiked Gauntlets (1d4+3/x2)
Languages: Common,...
Equipment: Masterwork spiked chain, spiked gauntlet (x2), masterwork heavy crossbow, +1 breastplate, 1 potion of cat's grace, 2 potions of CLW, 2 oils of magic weapon, 60 crossbow bolt, masterwork artisan's tools, explorer's outfit, light horse, (other equipment to be bought as appropriate)
Money: 169 gp
Skills:
- Craft (Weaponsmithing) (6 ranks +2 Int) = +8
- Ride (3 ranks +1 Dex) = +4
- Appraise (weapons) (3 ranks +2 Int +2 Appraise Synergy) = +7
- Climb (3 ranks +3 Str) = +6
- Search (3 ranks +2 Int) = +5
- Knowledge (weapons) 2 (2 ranks +2 Int) = +4
- Intimidate (2 ranks) = +2
Feats:
- Combat Reflexes
- Exotic Weapon Proficiency (Spiked Chain)
- Weapon Focus (Spiked Chain)
- Combat Expertise
- Improved Disarm
Age: 24
Height: 6'2"
Weight: 186 lbs.
Eyes: Brown
Hair: None
Appearance: Sunedilar typically favors the light clothing of his homeland and his cult, wearing light, loose pants and shirts along with a vest marked with a two tailed scorpion on the back, it's stingers curling around to the front. He keeps both his face and his head shaved at all times. He most often appears to be completely impassive, but if quite capable of showing extreme rage and haughtiness when provoked.
Background: Sunedilar was born to a family of devout followers of Vorlash, the warrior god of Krinjat clan (and probably a manifestation of Hextor), a semi-nomadic people living in the Norenal Steppe, a arid scrubland area near the Golden Way, a major trade route which the Krinjat frequently raided. The al Hazir family had served the dark god from time immemorial, and Sunedilar followed the footsteps of legions of his ancestors and devoted himself to the cult.
As a warrior of Vorlash, Sunedilar studied weapons of all kinds, particularly the sacred vorlan-tal, the "twin sting" or spiked chain. When his parents were killed during a caravan raid, Sunedilar simply threw himself further into his studies, becoming a cruel and deadly fighter, internalizing not just the techniques of the cult but also its doctrines regarding taking from the weak. By the time his training ended, Sunedilar was more than ready to begin his career as a raider, looting caravans and selling captives into slavery.
After a few years, Sunedilar was called before the elders of the cult and charged with a sacred duty. Vorlash had decreed that the time was coming for the Krinjat to become more than raiders. It was time for conquest. And Sunedilar would help prepare the way. He was tasked to travel to the neighboring lands and look for weaknesses, find allies, and do whatever he could to soften the enemy up before the inevitable war. Sunedilar, seeing an opportunity to both serve his god and gain greater personal wealth and power, agreed at once.
Personality: Sunedilar keeps his emotions to himself most of the time, maintaining stoic discipline in order to avoid stupid mistakes. He finds excessive violence and cruelty distasteful unless it serves a definate purpose. He enjoys wealth and the luxuries it can provide, but he has no problem denying those things if they become distracting or get in the way of gaining power.
Last edited:
John E Smoke
First Post
Name: Dulanse Geriardor, aka Dulanse the Red
Class: Swashbuckler 3
Race: Human
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Alignment: Lawful Evil
HP: 26 (3d10)
XP: 3,000
Str: 10
Dex: 16 +3
Con: 11
Int: 14 +2
Wis: 10
Cha: 13 +2
BAB: +3, +8 Masterwork Rapier, + 7 Masterwork Dagger, +6/+5 Rapier and Dagger
Speed: 30'
Init: +3
AC: 17 (+3 Dex, +3 Masterwork Studded Leather, +1 Two Weapon Defense)
Fort: +3, +1 Res. = +4
Ref: 1 +3 Dex, +1 Grace, +1 Res. = +5
Will: +1, +1 Res. = +2
Weapons
Masterwork Rapier - Dmg 1d6+2 Insight, Crit 18-20x2
Masterwork Silver Dagger - Dmg 1d4+2 Insight, Crit 19-20x2, Range 10
Languages: Common, Elven, Draconic
Abilities: Grace +1 (Bonus to reflex saves), Insightful Strike (Intelligence bonus to damage with finessable weapons)
Feats: Weapon Focus: Rapier, Two-Weapon Fighting, Weapon Finesse, Two-Weapon Defense
Skill Points: 42
Balance: 5 ranks +3 Dex, +2 Tumble synergy Dex = +10
Bluff: 6 ranks +2 Cha = +8
Climb: 3 ranks = +3
Diplomacy: 6 ranks +2 Cha, +4 Bluff and Sense Motive synergy = +12
Jump: 5 ranks +2 Tumble synergy = +8
Profession: Merchant 3 ranks = +3
Sense Motive: 6 ranks = +6
Swim: 2 ranks = +2
Tumble: 6 ranks +3 Dex, +2 Jump synergy = +11
Equipment:
Masterwork Studded Leather, Masterwork Rapier, Masterwork Silver Dagger, Noble's Outfit, Traveller's Outfit, Courtier's Outfit, 3 potions of cure light wounds, 3 magic weapon oils, Cloak of resistance +1 (other equipment to be bought as it fits the game), Light Horse, Riding Saddle, Saddle Bags, Signet Ring, Various pieces of jewelry (total worth: 100 gp)
Money: 284 gp
Age: 22
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 145lb
Eyes: Green
Hair: Blonde
Appearance: Dulanse typically dresses in fine clothing befitting his family's wealth and prestige, favoring black and often wearing either a crimson sash or cape. He takes pains to keep up his appearance, keeping his hair trimmed and his face clean-shaven.
Background:
The Geriardors are a prominent merchant family that make their home in Calcurt, the capital city of Calislan. Though technically of common station, their wealth has enabled to grease many palms, and they are poised to use their influence to marry into the aristocracy.
Dulanse is the fourth son of Arlan, the head of the family. Certain that he would receive a pittance of an inheritance when the time came, and not particularly interested in the family business, Dulanse decided to act on his own initiative and politick his way into a noble family's heart. He found his mark (and, as he would later claim, his love) in a young lady named Ariadne, the daughter of a local baron. Unfortunately for Dulanse, he found himself in competition for her affections as the young Lord Delryn, a cousin of the prince, had become quite smitten with her.
Dulanse arranged to meet Ariadne in secret one night, to discover that with her father's blessing, she had been betrothed to Delryn. Enraged by her news, Dulanse plunged a dagger in her heart and buried her.
Though his crime has not been discovered and he has not been suspected in Ariadne's disappearance, Dulanse has since arranged to visit his uncle near the border of Calislan under the pretense of helping manage the family operations there. It is here that he is keeping a low profile and plotting his revenge against Delryn, whom he blames for the loss of Ariadne.
Personality:
On the surface, Dulanse tends to be full of wit and charm, for he is able to handle nearly any social situation with grace. Underneath, however, he is a hateful, spoiled bastard with a furious temper that erupts whenever he doesn't get his way. He often lacks patience due to his pampered upbringing, but he is still quite capable of plotting and scheming to achieve his ends. Though he is a skilled warrior, he usually prefers to stay away from such messiness, relying on others to do the dirty work for him.
Class: Swashbuckler 3
Race: Human
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Alignment: Lawful Evil
HP: 26 (3d10)
XP: 3,000
Str: 10
Dex: 16 +3
Con: 11
Int: 14 +2
Wis: 10
Cha: 13 +2
BAB: +3, +8 Masterwork Rapier, + 7 Masterwork Dagger, +6/+5 Rapier and Dagger
Speed: 30'
Init: +3
AC: 17 (+3 Dex, +3 Masterwork Studded Leather, +1 Two Weapon Defense)
Fort: +3, +1 Res. = +4
Ref: 1 +3 Dex, +1 Grace, +1 Res. = +5
Will: +1, +1 Res. = +2
Weapons
Masterwork Rapier - Dmg 1d6+2 Insight, Crit 18-20x2
Masterwork Silver Dagger - Dmg 1d4+2 Insight, Crit 19-20x2, Range 10
Languages: Common, Elven, Draconic
Abilities: Grace +1 (Bonus to reflex saves), Insightful Strike (Intelligence bonus to damage with finessable weapons)
Feats: Weapon Focus: Rapier, Two-Weapon Fighting, Weapon Finesse, Two-Weapon Defense
Skill Points: 42
Balance: 5 ranks +3 Dex, +2 Tumble synergy Dex = +10
Bluff: 6 ranks +2 Cha = +8
Climb: 3 ranks = +3
Diplomacy: 6 ranks +2 Cha, +4 Bluff and Sense Motive synergy = +12
Jump: 5 ranks +2 Tumble synergy = +8
Profession: Merchant 3 ranks = +3
Sense Motive: 6 ranks = +6
Swim: 2 ranks = +2
Tumble: 6 ranks +3 Dex, +2 Jump synergy = +11
Equipment:
Masterwork Studded Leather, Masterwork Rapier, Masterwork Silver Dagger, Noble's Outfit, Traveller's Outfit, Courtier's Outfit, 3 potions of cure light wounds, 3 magic weapon oils, Cloak of resistance +1 (other equipment to be bought as it fits the game), Light Horse, Riding Saddle, Saddle Bags, Signet Ring, Various pieces of jewelry (total worth: 100 gp)
Money: 284 gp
Age: 22
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 145lb
Eyes: Green
Hair: Blonde
Appearance: Dulanse typically dresses in fine clothing befitting his family's wealth and prestige, favoring black and often wearing either a crimson sash or cape. He takes pains to keep up his appearance, keeping his hair trimmed and his face clean-shaven.
Background:
The Geriardors are a prominent merchant family that make their home in Calcurt, the capital city of Calislan. Though technically of common station, their wealth has enabled to grease many palms, and they are poised to use their influence to marry into the aristocracy.
Dulanse is the fourth son of Arlan, the head of the family. Certain that he would receive a pittance of an inheritance when the time came, and not particularly interested in the family business, Dulanse decided to act on his own initiative and politick his way into a noble family's heart. He found his mark (and, as he would later claim, his love) in a young lady named Ariadne, the daughter of a local baron. Unfortunately for Dulanse, he found himself in competition for her affections as the young Lord Delryn, a cousin of the prince, had become quite smitten with her.
Dulanse arranged to meet Ariadne in secret one night, to discover that with her father's blessing, she had been betrothed to Delryn. Enraged by her news, Dulanse plunged a dagger in her heart and buried her.
Though his crime has not been discovered and he has not been suspected in Ariadne's disappearance, Dulanse has since arranged to visit his uncle near the border of Calislan under the pretense of helping manage the family operations there. It is here that he is keeping a low profile and plotting his revenge against Delryn, whom he blames for the loss of Ariadne.
Personality:
On the surface, Dulanse tends to be full of wit and charm, for he is able to handle nearly any social situation with grace. Underneath, however, he is a hateful, spoiled bastard with a furious temper that erupts whenever he doesn't get his way. He often lacks patience due to his pampered upbringing, but he is still quite capable of plotting and scheming to achieve his ends. Though he is a skilled warrior, he usually prefers to stay away from such messiness, relying on others to do the dirty work for him.
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Lydia Shardweaver
Female Human Cleric 3 of Wee Jas
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Height: 5' 2''
Weight: 120lbs
Hair: Black
Eyes: Dark Blue
Skin: Fair
Age: 20
Str: 10 (+0) [2 points]
Dex: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Con: 10 (+0) [2 points]
Int: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Wis: 15 (+2) [10 points]
Cha: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Class and Racial Abilities:
No favored class, free feat at first level, 4 skill points at first level, 1 extra skill points at all other levels, rebuke dead 5/day, free conversion to inflict spells, Death and Law domains.
Hit Dice: 3d8
HP: 20
AC: 16 (+2 Dex, +4 armor)
Init: +2 (+2 Dex)
Speed: 30ft
Saves:
Fortitude +3 [+3 base, +0 Con]
Reflex +3 [+1 base, +2 Dex]
Will +5 [+3 base, +2 Wis]
+1 circumstance bonus on saving throws against mind-affecting effects, poison, sleep, paralysis, stunning, and disease due to Lichloved feat.
BAB: +2
Melee Atk: +3 (1d4/19-20/x2 MW medium silver dagger) or +3 (1d6/x2 MW light mace)
Ranged Atk: +4 (1d8/19-20/x2/80 ft., light crossbow)
Skills:
Concentration +4 [4 ranks, +0 Con]
Diplomacy +3 [1 rank, +2 Cha] (+5 versus evil creatures)
Intimidate +2 [+2 Cha] (+4 versus evil creatures)
Knowledge (arcana) +4 [3 ranks, +1 Int]
Knowledge (religion) +6 [5 ranks, +1 Int]
Knowledge (the planes) +2 [1 ranks, +1 Int]
Profession (mortician) +5 [3 ranks, +2 Wis]
Ride +4 [4 cc ranks, +2 Dex]
Spellcraft +7 [3 ranks, +2 Int, +2 synergy from Knowledge (arcana)]
Feats:
Evil Brand (human bonus)
Lichloved (1st level)
Malign Spell Focus (3rd level)
Languages: Common, Infernal, Draconic
Spells Prepared
Save DC +2
0th - Read Magic, Guidance, Light, Cure Minor Wounds
1st - Bane, Detect Undead, Divine Favor (D) - Cause Fear
2nd - Hold Person, Zone of Truth (D) - Death Knell
Equipment:
Light Warhorse - 150gp
Bit and bridle - 2gp
Riding saddle - 10gp
Saddlebags - 4gp
Wearing or carrying
Belt pouch 1gp
Waterskin 1gp
MW Silver dagger 310gp
MW Light mace 305gp
MW Chain shirt 250gp
Iron holy symbol of Wee Jas 25gp
Backpack 2gp
-Bedroll 5sp
-Everburning torch 110gp
-Sunrods (5) 10gp
-Flint and steel 1gp
-50 ft. silk rope 10gp
-Paper (10 sheets) 4gp
-Ink (two vials) 16gp
-Inkpen 1gp
-Trail rations (20 days worth) 10gp
-Cleric's vestments 5gp
-Cold weather outfit 8gp
-4 Flasks unholy water 100gp
-Scroll of magic weapon 25gp
-Scroll of lesser restoration 150gp
-Scroll of animate dead 625gp
-2 Potions of cure light wounds 100gp
-Wand of detect magic 375gp
Money
51gp 5sp
Appearance:
Lydia is a short, petite woman with an aura of absolute competence around her. She keeps her raven-black hair elaborately braided, so it is hard to tell how long it is. Her dark blue eyes and fair skin all collaborate to make her fairly attractive, but her cool demeanor tends to keep people away.
She wears dark gray traveling leathers when she's traveling, with touches of red at her shirt, laces on her jerkin, stitches, and her boots. Over it all she wears a black cloak. On a chain around her neck is a red-enameled iron holy symbol of Wee Jas, though she rarely displays it if she thinks it would be unwise. Also, she bears an evil brand of Wee Jas' darkest desires on her chest. Normally she covers it, but when she wants to impress someone she will unlace her shirt slightly to let it show.
Lydia carries an elaborate black mace with a red head that she also uses in her ceremonies to Wee Jas. It's carved with symbols of death. She also carries a silver dagger with a ruby in the pommel as well as a more mundane crossbow.
When performing a ceremony for Wee Jas, she wears the ruby red robes and elaborate headdress of her church.
Lydia travels on a black horse of good breeding, its tack dyed to match her clothes. When possible she will remain on horseback to keep her head higher than those she is addressing... or threatening.
Personality and Background:
Lydia is a cool, quietly aloof woman with a deep passion for raising the dead. A daughter of a prominent minor noble of an ancient lineage, she grew up a disappointment to her family. The youngest of eight siblings (five older brothers and three older sisters), she was teased unmercifully for her differences from her family. She was far shorter than all of them, raven-haired to their brown curls, blue-eyed to their hazel. She enjoyed books, reading, and esoteric subjects of magic and religion, while her siblings had to practically be forced into even learning to write their own names.
Her parents were actually rather proud of her accomplishments, though not Lydia herself. She was smart enough to keep the family chronicles and family tree up to date, which meant they didn't have to pay a scholar to do it for them. When she was able to meet their expectations they would give her cool word of praise. However, she was never given a hug, never told she was loved, and never really thought she was nothing more than a convenient replacement for an otherwise expensive service. But her siblings wouldn't accept the fact that she received any kind of special attention at all.
In the cruel manner of children her siblings set out to break her spirit. They would steal her books, destroy her notes, push or trip her around the manner, and call her all sorts of names. Whenever she obtained a pet, one of her sisters would let it out or her brothers would kill it. Eventually, after many tears, she started ignoring the dead pets and continued to talk to them as if they were still alive. Realizing that she still got some comfort in talking to their corpses, she coped.
Seeing that she was becoming inured to their cruelty, her siblings opted for a more permanent method of getting rid of their troublesome sister. One night they stole into her room, bludgeoned her into unconsciousness and locked her in the family crypt with their recently deceased uncle. She regained consciousness in total darkness and in pain. Feeling her way around, she found the corpse of her uncle lying in state. Relieved she climbed next to him and snuggled into his arms, as he wouldn't leave her or rebuke her like her parents of siblings.
When she lapsed into unconsciousness again, she dreamed of some of the things she had read before, particularly about Wee Jas, the Ruby Sorceress. She remembered that she had read that sometimes Wee Jas' worshippers could create undead, though she didn't remember much because her horrified teacher had taken that book away from her when he realized what she was reading.
Upon waking she kneeled on her uncle's chest and began to pray into the darkness. To be able to raise the dead, to take an unresisting companion that would never criticize her or hurt her wherever she went was a dream she longed to fulfill. Hearing her plea, Wee Jas sent her a vision, demanding her obedience in exchange for power. As Wee Jas' words promised real rewards for her service, Lydia agreed wholeheartedly.
It was two days before anyone in the family estate missed Lydia, and another day before anyone heard her chanting in the crypt. Opening it with trepidation, they found Lydia with her uncle's corpse. Raising her hands above her head she blasted them with fear, causing them to flee before her. Giddy with the power of seeing others fear her, she quickly went to her father's vault and took the money that was hers by right and inheritance. Also have taken her uncle's dagger and her father's best horse, she set off. She took the name Shardweaver to represent the way she had woven together the shards of her shattered life into a new whole.
Lydia has been working hard for two years in order to obtain the power to raise the dead. She knows she is close to being able to do it herself, but for now has just a precious single scroll with which to do it. She's searching for the perfect corpse to be her companion before she casts the spell.
Lydia is a somewhat frail-seeming woman with several unhealthy obsessions and burning passions. She follows Wee Jas fervently, believing that She rescued Lydia from her hellish home life. She gladly smites enemies of her goddess, hoping to prove herself enough so that one day she might have a whole family of undead to care for her.
She cares far more for undead than for the living, as the living tend to bring her nothing but misery. If she could she would kill the world and raise them all as compliant undead. More than once she has longed for the purity of lichdom and sees that as a great goal for the glory of Wee Jas.
Female Human Cleric 3 of Wee Jas
Alignment: Lawful Evil
Height: 5' 2''
Weight: 120lbs
Hair: Black
Eyes: Dark Blue
Skin: Fair
Age: 20
Str: 10 (+0) [2 points]
Dex: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Con: 10 (+0) [2 points]
Int: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Wis: 15 (+2) [10 points]
Cha: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Class and Racial Abilities:
No favored class, free feat at first level, 4 skill points at first level, 1 extra skill points at all other levels, rebuke dead 5/day, free conversion to inflict spells, Death and Law domains.
Hit Dice: 3d8
HP: 20
AC: 16 (+2 Dex, +4 armor)
Init: +2 (+2 Dex)
Speed: 30ft
Saves:
Fortitude +3 [+3 base, +0 Con]
Reflex +3 [+1 base, +2 Dex]
Will +5 [+3 base, +2 Wis]
+1 circumstance bonus on saving throws against mind-affecting effects, poison, sleep, paralysis, stunning, and disease due to Lichloved feat.
BAB: +2
Melee Atk: +3 (1d4/19-20/x2 MW medium silver dagger) or +3 (1d6/x2 MW light mace)
Ranged Atk: +4 (1d8/19-20/x2/80 ft., light crossbow)
Skills:
Concentration +4 [4 ranks, +0 Con]
Diplomacy +3 [1 rank, +2 Cha] (+5 versus evil creatures)
Intimidate +2 [+2 Cha] (+4 versus evil creatures)
Knowledge (arcana) +4 [3 ranks, +1 Int]
Knowledge (religion) +6 [5 ranks, +1 Int]
Knowledge (the planes) +2 [1 ranks, +1 Int]
Profession (mortician) +5 [3 ranks, +2 Wis]
Ride +4 [4 cc ranks, +2 Dex]
Spellcraft +7 [3 ranks, +2 Int, +2 synergy from Knowledge (arcana)]
Feats:
Evil Brand (human bonus)
Lichloved (1st level)
Malign Spell Focus (3rd level)
Languages: Common, Infernal, Draconic
Spells Prepared
Save DC +2
0th - Read Magic, Guidance, Light, Cure Minor Wounds
1st - Bane, Detect Undead, Divine Favor (D) - Cause Fear
2nd - Hold Person, Zone of Truth (D) - Death Knell
Equipment:
Light Warhorse - 150gp
Bit and bridle - 2gp
Riding saddle - 10gp
Saddlebags - 4gp
Wearing or carrying
Belt pouch 1gp
Waterskin 1gp
MW Silver dagger 310gp
MW Light mace 305gp
MW Chain shirt 250gp
Iron holy symbol of Wee Jas 25gp
Backpack 2gp
-Bedroll 5sp
-Everburning torch 110gp
-Sunrods (5) 10gp
-Flint and steel 1gp
-50 ft. silk rope 10gp
-Paper (10 sheets) 4gp
-Ink (two vials) 16gp
-Inkpen 1gp
-Trail rations (20 days worth) 10gp
-Cleric's vestments 5gp
-Cold weather outfit 8gp
-4 Flasks unholy water 100gp
-Scroll of magic weapon 25gp
-Scroll of lesser restoration 150gp
-Scroll of animate dead 625gp
-2 Potions of cure light wounds 100gp
-Wand of detect magic 375gp
Money
51gp 5sp
Appearance:
Lydia is a short, petite woman with an aura of absolute competence around her. She keeps her raven-black hair elaborately braided, so it is hard to tell how long it is. Her dark blue eyes and fair skin all collaborate to make her fairly attractive, but her cool demeanor tends to keep people away.
She wears dark gray traveling leathers when she's traveling, with touches of red at her shirt, laces on her jerkin, stitches, and her boots. Over it all she wears a black cloak. On a chain around her neck is a red-enameled iron holy symbol of Wee Jas, though she rarely displays it if she thinks it would be unwise. Also, she bears an evil brand of Wee Jas' darkest desires on her chest. Normally she covers it, but when she wants to impress someone she will unlace her shirt slightly to let it show.
Lydia carries an elaborate black mace with a red head that she also uses in her ceremonies to Wee Jas. It's carved with symbols of death. She also carries a silver dagger with a ruby in the pommel as well as a more mundane crossbow.
When performing a ceremony for Wee Jas, she wears the ruby red robes and elaborate headdress of her church.
Lydia travels on a black horse of good breeding, its tack dyed to match her clothes. When possible she will remain on horseback to keep her head higher than those she is addressing... or threatening.
Personality and Background:
Lydia is a cool, quietly aloof woman with a deep passion for raising the dead. A daughter of a prominent minor noble of an ancient lineage, she grew up a disappointment to her family. The youngest of eight siblings (five older brothers and three older sisters), she was teased unmercifully for her differences from her family. She was far shorter than all of them, raven-haired to their brown curls, blue-eyed to their hazel. She enjoyed books, reading, and esoteric subjects of magic and religion, while her siblings had to practically be forced into even learning to write their own names.
Her parents were actually rather proud of her accomplishments, though not Lydia herself. She was smart enough to keep the family chronicles and family tree up to date, which meant they didn't have to pay a scholar to do it for them. When she was able to meet their expectations they would give her cool word of praise. However, she was never given a hug, never told she was loved, and never really thought she was nothing more than a convenient replacement for an otherwise expensive service. But her siblings wouldn't accept the fact that she received any kind of special attention at all.
In the cruel manner of children her siblings set out to break her spirit. They would steal her books, destroy her notes, push or trip her around the manner, and call her all sorts of names. Whenever she obtained a pet, one of her sisters would let it out or her brothers would kill it. Eventually, after many tears, she started ignoring the dead pets and continued to talk to them as if they were still alive. Realizing that she still got some comfort in talking to their corpses, she coped.
Seeing that she was becoming inured to their cruelty, her siblings opted for a more permanent method of getting rid of their troublesome sister. One night they stole into her room, bludgeoned her into unconsciousness and locked her in the family crypt with their recently deceased uncle. She regained consciousness in total darkness and in pain. Feeling her way around, she found the corpse of her uncle lying in state. Relieved she climbed next to him and snuggled into his arms, as he wouldn't leave her or rebuke her like her parents of siblings.
When she lapsed into unconsciousness again, she dreamed of some of the things she had read before, particularly about Wee Jas, the Ruby Sorceress. She remembered that she had read that sometimes Wee Jas' worshippers could create undead, though she didn't remember much because her horrified teacher had taken that book away from her when he realized what she was reading.
Upon waking she kneeled on her uncle's chest and began to pray into the darkness. To be able to raise the dead, to take an unresisting companion that would never criticize her or hurt her wherever she went was a dream she longed to fulfill. Hearing her plea, Wee Jas sent her a vision, demanding her obedience in exchange for power. As Wee Jas' words promised real rewards for her service, Lydia agreed wholeheartedly.
It was two days before anyone in the family estate missed Lydia, and another day before anyone heard her chanting in the crypt. Opening it with trepidation, they found Lydia with her uncle's corpse. Raising her hands above her head she blasted them with fear, causing them to flee before her. Giddy with the power of seeing others fear her, she quickly went to her father's vault and took the money that was hers by right and inheritance. Also have taken her uncle's dagger and her father's best horse, she set off. She took the name Shardweaver to represent the way she had woven together the shards of her shattered life into a new whole.
Lydia has been working hard for two years in order to obtain the power to raise the dead. She knows she is close to being able to do it herself, but for now has just a precious single scroll with which to do it. She's searching for the perfect corpse to be her companion before she casts the spell.
Lydia is a somewhat frail-seeming woman with several unhealthy obsessions and burning passions. She follows Wee Jas fervently, believing that She rescued Lydia from her hellish home life. She gladly smites enemies of her goddess, hoping to prove herself enough so that one day she might have a whole family of undead to care for her.
She cares far more for undead than for the living, as the living tend to bring her nothing but misery. If she could she would kill the world and raise them all as compliant undead. More than once she has longed for the purity of lichdom and sees that as a great goal for the glory of Wee Jas.
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Guilt Puppy
First Post
Name: Alev Pure
Class: Ari1/Rog2
Race: Elf
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Alignment: Lawful Evil
HP: 15 (1d8 + 2d6 -3 for Con)
XP: 3000
Str: 14 (+2) (6 pts)
Dex: 16 (+3) (6 pts)
Con: 8 (-1) (2 pts)
Int: 14 (+2) (6 pts)
Wis: 10 (+0) (2 pts)
Cha: 14 (+2) (6 pts)
BAB: +1
AB for weapons:
- Dagger: +4, 1d4+2 19-20/x2
- Rapier: +5, 1d6+2 18-20/x2
- Kukri: +5, 1d4+2 18-20/x2
- Falchion: +4, 1d4+3 18-20/x2
- Rapier & Kukri: +3, 1d6+2 18-20/x2 & +3, 1d4+1 18-20/x2
Spd:30'
Init: +3
AC: 18 (+3 Dex, +4 Armor, +1 Enhancement)
ACP -1
Saves:
- Fort: -1 (-1 con)
- Ref: +6 (+3 Dex)
- Will: +2
Languages: Common, Elven, Draconic, Sylvan, Abyssal, Infernal, Undercommon
Equipment:
Silvered Dagger ... 22gp 1lb
MW Kukri ... 308gp 2lb
MW Rapier ... 320gp 2lb
MW Falchion ... 375gp 8lb
Longbow ... 75gp 3lb
Arrows(20) ... 1gp 3lb
+1 Chain Shirt ... 1250gp 25lb
Backpack ... 2 gp 2lb
- Potion, CLW ... 50gp -
- Soap ... 1gp 2lb
- Rations, 10 days ... 5gp 10lb
- Thieves' tools ... 30gp 1lb
Coinage 50gp 1lb
Light Horse ... 75 gp --
- Riding Saddle 10 gp 25 lb
- Bit & bridle 2 gp 1lb
- Saddlebags 4 gp 8lb
-- Courtier's Outfit ... 30 gp 7lb
-- Noble's Outfit ... 75 gp 10lb
-- Explorer's Outfit ... 10 gp 8lb
60 pounds carried.
Skills:
- +4 Appraise (2) +2 Int
- +6 Bluff (4) +2 Cha
- +6 Diplomacy (4) +2 Cha
- +5 Disable Device (2) +3 Dex
- +7 Hide (4) +3 Dex
- +6 Gather Information (4) +2 Cha
- +6 Knowledge (arcana) (4) +2 Int
- +6 Knowledge (history) (4) +2 Int
- +6 Knowledge (nobility) (4) +2 Int
- +6 Knowledge (fine arts) (4) +2 Int
- +7 Move Silently (4) +3 Dex
- +6 Search (2) +2 Dex +2 Racial
- +3 Sense Motive (3)
- +7 Tumble (4) +3 Dex
- Speak Language (3): Abyssal, Infernal, Undercommon
Feats:
Two-Weapon Fighting
Weapon Finesse
Age: 168
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 96 lbs.
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Silver
Appearance: For outfits, wine velvet is prefered, although black leather is acceptable if absolutely necessary. Both must be tailored to highlight the pinch of his waist -- effeminite, maybe, but so much more aesthetically pleasing -- and always, always high collars and gloves. Round black spectacles are a necessity during daylight hours, as there's nothing good to be said about running around squinting like a fool.
Keeps his hair at a consistent trim -- cropped short in back, kept longer as it goes forward until the very last point curves directly into the corner of the eye. The use of a few subtle inserts is enough to maintain an arc lift at the center of his head, giving the whole cut a general egg shape.
The face is powdered to suit the event, and it is always worth the time it takes to apply. With the right outfit, a pinch of pepper applied liberally beneath the eyelids gives the eyes a graceful sheen, and brings a bit more collar to the face. Best suited to candlelight, which will allow the pupils to dilate, to keep the blue of the iris from becoming too dominating.
Background: As far as a beginning is concerned, it is certain that a Miss Chanci Something-or-Other was given as a gift a certain elf child, elves being rare in those parts, on the occasion of her becoming the Mrs. Chanci Something-Else. The details of that child's acquisition and the intent of its original giver have been buried along with all those involved; what is of record is that dear Lady Chanci saw it fit to pass this young elf along to her eldest daughter on the occasion of her marriage, thus birthing a family tradition which would outlive the memory of what family this had been.
And so as decades passed, our young elf's conditions were always quite transitory, changing house every fifteen years or so. These moves often spanned kingdoms and cultures, and while it was not rare to hear of the death of a former owner, some apparently outlived their own memory in this bloodline, too many generations and families removed for word to pass along.
As often as last names changed, so too did duties: Some ladies regarded their elf as a servant; others as a toy, a curiosity; some almost as a child of their own. The last owner, Lady Linitha or Miss Linny, depending on the year, seemed to regard her elf as a dear childhood friend and trusted counsel. It came naturally, then, that she would confide in her heirloom the details of her secret affairs; and indeed, this heirloom would in turn take part in plans to overthrow the Master of the house.
The situation was classic: The Lady had taken quite fondly to a certain young man outside her marriage, and where her prior dalliances had been easily hidden, this more passionate involvement inevitably aroused the suspicions of her husband. Before he could act against her, she met with her elf to bring up a private resolution which she had before devised. The details occurred so naturally that it took almost no explanation: The elf could murder his Master in the morning, in view of the other servants, and proclaim jealousy or undying love or something of that sort for Miss Linny, and then disappear to wherever was convenient; she, in turn, could explain how her elf had been meeting with her in private, professing these affections, and that she had tried her best to refuse these affections gently; this would help satisfy any rumors of the Lady's secret life, and believably, for that she kept her elf closely was well-known; and finally, after a suitable time of grieving, she could start a new marriage with her secret lover, free from scrutiny.
The first part of the plan went well enough: The Master sat quietly over his breakfast and seemed to surprised to resist as the blade came into play. The elf escaped without problem, taking with him a useful sum of gold, with which a new life could be started in some other place, too far away for news of such trivial passions to travel. Lady Linitha was not so fortunate: The folk of the town believed the first bit of the story, but they were generally less willing to believe she had been a non-participant in this secret affection. Such suspicions came to a head when a young man -- that secret lover of hers, nervous that all this might come back to him -- told the local authorities that the woman had, in private conversations, confessed to sharing passions with the heirloom. It was easy to confirm that the two had some relation, and so it was not long before she was in the public square, her head on the chopping block.
Her elf showed up to watch, confident in his ability to disappear among the commonfolk. The blood flowed like wine down a ship's hull: He had seen that somewhere.
Since then he has wandered, lived a bit on the criminal edge, taken a name -- "Alev Pure," for its phonetic pleasure -- taken up the occasional stabbing, the occasional slashing, to occupy his time. There's a rare crowd that can appreciate a good slashing, certain taverns where the floor is not so clean... You always have to skip town before the accolades pour in. It's a little tragic.
His technique is still young, and his short list of murders and mutilations are better considered sketches than works of art. Most of his time has been learning the ways of the blade, the mark it leaves upon the flesh... He finds he quite enjoys blades. They can be very, you know, sharp.
Personality: Having spent the first hundred and sixty years of his life, or so, as a possession which outlasted many owners, Alev finds it difficult to esteem people more than objects, finding them too transitory, too poorly composed. Even the best of them must live on within their great works, hide their ugliness and mundanity behind beautiful and glorious creations.
He is not a misanthrope; not wholly, anyway. Cruelty takes too much effort, and if one cannot maintain a luxurious lifestyle, it is best to keep at least a luxurious mind. He is disaffected and cold; witty, but humorless. At worst he is annoyed, and at best bemused: He seems willing to go to great lengths of action to move from the former to the latter. And he is definitely pretty obsessive. Casual about it, sure, but definitely obsessive. Once you start a thing it's just a shame to stop.
Class: Ari1/Rog2
Race: Elf
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Alignment: Lawful Evil
HP: 15 (1d8 + 2d6 -3 for Con)
XP: 3000
Str: 14 (+2) (6 pts)
Dex: 16 (+3) (6 pts)
Con: 8 (-1) (2 pts)
Int: 14 (+2) (6 pts)
Wis: 10 (+0) (2 pts)
Cha: 14 (+2) (6 pts)
BAB: +1
AB for weapons:
- Dagger: +4, 1d4+2 19-20/x2
- Rapier: +5, 1d6+2 18-20/x2
- Kukri: +5, 1d4+2 18-20/x2
- Falchion: +4, 1d4+3 18-20/x2
- Rapier & Kukri: +3, 1d6+2 18-20/x2 & +3, 1d4+1 18-20/x2
Spd:30'
Init: +3
AC: 18 (+3 Dex, +4 Armor, +1 Enhancement)
ACP -1
Saves:
- Fort: -1 (-1 con)
- Ref: +6 (+3 Dex)
- Will: +2
Languages: Common, Elven, Draconic, Sylvan, Abyssal, Infernal, Undercommon
Equipment:
Silvered Dagger ... 22gp 1lb
MW Kukri ... 308gp 2lb
MW Rapier ... 320gp 2lb
MW Falchion ... 375gp 8lb
Longbow ... 75gp 3lb
Arrows(20) ... 1gp 3lb
+1 Chain Shirt ... 1250gp 25lb
Backpack ... 2 gp 2lb
- Potion, CLW ... 50gp -
- Soap ... 1gp 2lb
- Rations, 10 days ... 5gp 10lb
- Thieves' tools ... 30gp 1lb
Coinage 50gp 1lb
Light Horse ... 75 gp --
- Riding Saddle 10 gp 25 lb
- Bit & bridle 2 gp 1lb
- Saddlebags 4 gp 8lb
-- Courtier's Outfit ... 30 gp 7lb
-- Noble's Outfit ... 75 gp 10lb
-- Explorer's Outfit ... 10 gp 8lb
60 pounds carried.
Skills:
- +4 Appraise (2) +2 Int
- +6 Bluff (4) +2 Cha
- +6 Diplomacy (4) +2 Cha
- +5 Disable Device (2) +3 Dex
- +7 Hide (4) +3 Dex
- +6 Gather Information (4) +2 Cha
- +6 Knowledge (arcana) (4) +2 Int
- +6 Knowledge (history) (4) +2 Int
- +6 Knowledge (nobility) (4) +2 Int
- +6 Knowledge (fine arts) (4) +2 Int
- +7 Move Silently (4) +3 Dex
- +6 Search (2) +2 Dex +2 Racial
- +3 Sense Motive (3)
- +7 Tumble (4) +3 Dex
- Speak Language (3): Abyssal, Infernal, Undercommon
Feats:
Two-Weapon Fighting
Weapon Finesse
Age: 168
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 96 lbs.
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Silver
Appearance: For outfits, wine velvet is prefered, although black leather is acceptable if absolutely necessary. Both must be tailored to highlight the pinch of his waist -- effeminite, maybe, but so much more aesthetically pleasing -- and always, always high collars and gloves. Round black spectacles are a necessity during daylight hours, as there's nothing good to be said about running around squinting like a fool.
Keeps his hair at a consistent trim -- cropped short in back, kept longer as it goes forward until the very last point curves directly into the corner of the eye. The use of a few subtle inserts is enough to maintain an arc lift at the center of his head, giving the whole cut a general egg shape.
The face is powdered to suit the event, and it is always worth the time it takes to apply. With the right outfit, a pinch of pepper applied liberally beneath the eyelids gives the eyes a graceful sheen, and brings a bit more collar to the face. Best suited to candlelight, which will allow the pupils to dilate, to keep the blue of the iris from becoming too dominating.
Background: As far as a beginning is concerned, it is certain that a Miss Chanci Something-or-Other was given as a gift a certain elf child, elves being rare in those parts, on the occasion of her becoming the Mrs. Chanci Something-Else. The details of that child's acquisition and the intent of its original giver have been buried along with all those involved; what is of record is that dear Lady Chanci saw it fit to pass this young elf along to her eldest daughter on the occasion of her marriage, thus birthing a family tradition which would outlive the memory of what family this had been.
And so as decades passed, our young elf's conditions were always quite transitory, changing house every fifteen years or so. These moves often spanned kingdoms and cultures, and while it was not rare to hear of the death of a former owner, some apparently outlived their own memory in this bloodline, too many generations and families removed for word to pass along.
As often as last names changed, so too did duties: Some ladies regarded their elf as a servant; others as a toy, a curiosity; some almost as a child of their own. The last owner, Lady Linitha or Miss Linny, depending on the year, seemed to regard her elf as a dear childhood friend and trusted counsel. It came naturally, then, that she would confide in her heirloom the details of her secret affairs; and indeed, this heirloom would in turn take part in plans to overthrow the Master of the house.
The situation was classic: The Lady had taken quite fondly to a certain young man outside her marriage, and where her prior dalliances had been easily hidden, this more passionate involvement inevitably aroused the suspicions of her husband. Before he could act against her, she met with her elf to bring up a private resolution which she had before devised. The details occurred so naturally that it took almost no explanation: The elf could murder his Master in the morning, in view of the other servants, and proclaim jealousy or undying love or something of that sort for Miss Linny, and then disappear to wherever was convenient; she, in turn, could explain how her elf had been meeting with her in private, professing these affections, and that she had tried her best to refuse these affections gently; this would help satisfy any rumors of the Lady's secret life, and believably, for that she kept her elf closely was well-known; and finally, after a suitable time of grieving, she could start a new marriage with her secret lover, free from scrutiny.
The first part of the plan went well enough: The Master sat quietly over his breakfast and seemed to surprised to resist as the blade came into play. The elf escaped without problem, taking with him a useful sum of gold, with which a new life could be started in some other place, too far away for news of such trivial passions to travel. Lady Linitha was not so fortunate: The folk of the town believed the first bit of the story, but they were generally less willing to believe she had been a non-participant in this secret affection. Such suspicions came to a head when a young man -- that secret lover of hers, nervous that all this might come back to him -- told the local authorities that the woman had, in private conversations, confessed to sharing passions with the heirloom. It was easy to confirm that the two had some relation, and so it was not long before she was in the public square, her head on the chopping block.
Her elf showed up to watch, confident in his ability to disappear among the commonfolk. The blood flowed like wine down a ship's hull: He had seen that somewhere.
Since then he has wandered, lived a bit on the criminal edge, taken a name -- "Alev Pure," for its phonetic pleasure -- taken up the occasional stabbing, the occasional slashing, to occupy his time. There's a rare crowd that can appreciate a good slashing, certain taverns where the floor is not so clean... You always have to skip town before the accolades pour in. It's a little tragic.
His technique is still young, and his short list of murders and mutilations are better considered sketches than works of art. Most of his time has been learning the ways of the blade, the mark it leaves upon the flesh... He finds he quite enjoys blades. They can be very, you know, sharp.
Personality: Having spent the first hundred and sixty years of his life, or so, as a possession which outlasted many owners, Alev finds it difficult to esteem people more than objects, finding them too transitory, too poorly composed. Even the best of them must live on within their great works, hide their ugliness and mundanity behind beautiful and glorious creations.
He is not a misanthrope; not wholly, anyway. Cruelty takes too much effort, and if one cannot maintain a luxurious lifestyle, it is best to keep at least a luxurious mind. He is disaffected and cold; witty, but humorless. At worst he is annoyed, and at best bemused: He seems willing to go to great lengths of action to move from the former to the latter. And he is definitely pretty obsessive. Casual about it, sure, but definitely obsessive. Once you start a thing it's just a shame to stop.
Last edited:
Thomas Hobbes
First Post
Rhesa(currently goes by Aeweth)
Aasimar Cleric of Olidammara 2[/b]
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Height: 5' 10”
Weight: 125lbs
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Green
Skin: Fair
Age: 21
Str: 8 (-1) [0 points]
Dex: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Con: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Int: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Wis: 16 (+3) [6 points]
Cha: 16 (+3) [6 points]
Class and Racial Abilities:
+2 to Wisdom and Charisma, Resistance to Acid, Cold, and Electricity 5, Paladin favored class, Daylight 1/day (Caster level 2), Darkvision 60 feet, +2 racial bonus to spot and listen checks, turn undead 6/day, free conversion to cure spells, Trickery and Luck domains.
Hit Dice: 2d8+2
HP: 16
AC: 18 (+2 Dex, +4 armor, +2 shield)
Init: +2 (+2 Dex)
Speed: 30ft
Saves:
Fortitude +4 [+3 base, +1 Con]
Reflex +3 [+1 base, +2 Dex]
Will +6 [+3 base, +3 Wis]
BAB: +1
Melee Atk: +0 (1d4-1/19-20/x2 steel or cold iron dagger)
Ranged Atk: +3 (1d4-1/x2/30 ft., sling) or +3 (1d4-1/19-20/x2/10 ft., steel or cold iron dagger)
Skills:
Bluff +8 (5 ranks, +3 charisma)
Diplomacy +12 (5 ranks, +3 charisma, +4 synergy from Bluff and Sense Motive)
Disguise +8 (5 ranks, +3 charisma), +10 when acting in character (+2 synergy from Bluff)
Intimidate +5 (0 ranks, +3 charisma, +2 synergy bonus from bluff)
Listen +5 (0 ranks, +3 Wisdom, +2 racial bonus)
Sense Motive +10 (5 ranks, +3 wisdom, +2 feat)
Spot +5 (0 ranks, +3 Wisdom, +2 racial bonus)
Feats:
Cosmopolitan: Sense Motive (1st level)
Languages: Common, Celestial, Abyssal
Spells Prepared
Save DC +3
0th – Detect Magic, Light x2, Resistance
1st – Comprehend Languages, Magic Stone, Shield of Faith (D) – Disguise Self
Equipment:
Light horse - 150gp
Bit and bridle - 2gp
Riding saddle - 10gp
Saddlebags - 4gp
Wearing or carrying:
Belt pouch 1gp
Waterskin 1gp
Cold iron dagger 4gp
Mithral Chain shirt 1,100gp
Wooden holy symbol of Olidammara 1gp
Wooden holy symbol of Boccob 1gp
Sling 0gp
10 sling bullets 1sp
Backpack 2gp
Wand of Cure Light Wounds 750gp
Heavy Darkwood Shield 257gp
Vial of ink 8gp
Inkpen 1sp
10 sheets of parchment 10gp
Cut glass spectacles (false) 100gp
Scroll of Magic Stone 25gp
Scroll of Magic Weapon 25gp
Scroll of Disguise Self (4) 100gp
Traveler’s outfit (free)
Masterwork Disguise Kit (100 gp)
Mirror 10gp
On horse:
Wooden Holy Symbols of Corellon Larethian, Ehlonna, Erythnul, Fharlaghn, Pelor, Hextor, Kord, Nerull, Obad-hai, St. Cuthbert, Vecna, and Wee Jas 12gp
Silver holy symbol of Heironius 25gp
50 feet hemp rope 1gp
Grappling Hook 1gp
4 day’s trail rations 2gp
3 bottles of fine wine 30gp
Money
26gp 7sp
Appearance:
Aeweth and Rhesa look much the same. Both are of middling height, with a graceful and curvaceous body, shoulder length blond hair, striking green eyes, and generally quite beautiful. The two of them have an easy smile and a quick laugh in common, and both tend to reach their eyes (although for different reasons- Aeweth is genuinely amused with the topic at hand, but Rhesa is most likely laughing at you).
In dress, Aeweth carries around an (affected) studious air, often carrying an appropriately intimidating looking tome and wearing as scholarly robes as are practical for the task at hand- obviously less so when out on the road. She wears her hair in a bun at the top of her head, and an expensive pair of cut glass spectacles perched on her nose. Being somewhat vain, she tends to wear clothing that accentuates her figure. Her holy symbol of Boccob is proudly displayed.
Rhesa tends to be more practical. Much like Aeweth, she dresses to impress, although the goal is to use what she’s got to her best advantage rather than appeal to her own vanity. Her armor is so light as to be almost nonexistent, so although it is still somewhat bulky, she tends to wear her clothing over it rather than under it. That clothing typically consists of loose leather breeches and long sleeved tunics in attractively bright colors. She makes sure to always wear long sleeves- they hide the patches of iridescent scales that exist in patches on her arms, legs and torso, marks of a lillend or perhaps a couatl somewhere far, far back in her bloodline. Her holy symbol to Olidammara is hidden under a fold of her robe- she can grasp it when she needs it, but it’s out of sight.
Personality and background:
Aeweth is a scholar. Sort of. Truth be told, she managed to gain the title more by parental pressure (on both her to work hard and her tutors to praise her) and the intellectual equivalent of brute force than any actual smarts. She’s a spoiled child of a merchant who wanted his daughter to be well educated, but she’s never really had the mind for it. She’d rather she was one of the merchant’s daughters who got to dress up, go to parties, and eventually get married to some young nobleman. Sigh.
Well, that didn’t work. Boccob seems to like her, though. She seems to have more success worshipping the idea of knowledge than actually learning stuff. But now she’s short on cash. What ever will she do?
Aeweth is more than a little ditzy. She tries so hard to be intellectual, but really, there’s not much up there. It’s mostly stubbornness, parental pressure and fear of failing that’s gotten her this far. She’s a nice enough person, although she’s more likely to latch onto a charismatic individual or go along with the majority than to actually take a moral stand of her own. She is more than a little vain, enjoying dressing up when she gets the chance.
Rhesa is a combination of a number of contradictions, and she takes no small delight in succeeding at the internal balancing act that is required to keep them all in sync. She’s bright but takes no particular delight in books (she loves philosophical and moral debate, however). She is outgoing but has no particular desire to lead. She is knee-jerk rebellious- it’s her revolt against her angelic ancestry that’s led her to where she is today- but at the same time she’s willing to go with the flow, up to a point, if it’s easier for her to do so. She’s a tomboy- none of the spoiled princess schtick for her (unless she’s running a con that requires it)- but at the same time she takes no small delight in the looks she can draw if she just wears the right clothes. She’s thoroughly immoral- look out for number one!- but at the same time she’s exceedingly reluctant to take a life, and the more depraved sorts of evil are definitely not her cup of tea. Depending on their sort, she’ll put up with them (especially if the perpetrator is someone she wishes to avoid drawing the attention of) but she’d rather not have to.
The moral ambiguity runs deeper than that, though. She knows perfectly well that good and evil are very real, very solid concepts- and that with demons, devils, and angels running around as embodiments of such, it can be hard not to take sides sometimes. But she won’t, dammit. Just because her great-great-grandfather got drunk and slept with a lillend doesn’t mean she has to act any other way than she chooses- and just because she chooses not to act like her celestial forebears doesn’t mean she’s bound for hell, either.
Rhesa was raised by monks, donated at a young age to the church of Pelor (who her actual parents are, she doesn’t know). The well meaning but ultimately ineffective monks tried to school her in the ways of good (as Rhesa would put it, “Godliness and light and yadda yadda yadda”), but all she could think of how easy it was to blame her own wrongdoings on other children with a convincing smile or some fake tears, and how the same tactics could be used to, for example, swipe some of the sweets that the ascetic monks doled out so sparingly. Suffice to say that the moment she convinced the monks that she was ready for life outside the monastery walls, she quickly fell in with a crowd of thieves. With her easy way with people she took part in no small number of cons, and she was daring enough often enough that she offered enough prayers to the Laughing God of Thieves that she and him reached an arrangement.
Rhesa led a double life- during one part of the day she was a good little religious girl, serving food at a restaurant that catered to rich noble patrons, and the rest she was conning marks for as much as she could take them. In the “straight” part of her life, there was even a potential marriage prospect, something that amused her to no end- especially considering the boy in question was a fresh-faced young priest of Heironious. Oh well, she thought to herself. He’s a nice guy and no one’s getting hurt. A good time will be had by all.
Rhesa had made a bet with the universe, heaven and hell alike- she’ll dance joyously in the grey areas of life, and she won’t fall, and she won’t rise. She’ll stay right where she is and she’ll be happy doing it, thank you very much. Being the daring soul she is, she’s even dared the universe to try and throw her something that she can’t handle without taking a moral stand or sliding into evil. She sought out her young priest as much because she knew he would moralize to her as anything else, and she took sketchier and sketcher jobs on the underworld side of things.
This all worked out nicely until she took part in an assassination attempt on a noble coming to eat at her place of employment. Next thing she knew, her young priest was coming in to give her a last confession before the hanging tomorrow, the wonder evidenced in his face- how could the nice young girl he had prayed with be the same as the one who had handed off poison to be slipped into the duke’s supper? To her lasting regret, Rhesa never resolved the mystery for him- she clocked him upside the head while he was puckering up for one last kiss and made her getaway, taking his holy symbol to remember him by. She still feels pretty scummy about that bit.
So here she is now… short of cash, much like her current cover persona, Aeweth. She needs a job, and she feels confident enough now to take another chance with the universe and prove that, really, she’s not evil any more than she is good. And what better way to test one’s moral fiber than hang out with this lot?
Aasimar Cleric of Olidammara 2[/b]
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Height: 5' 10”
Weight: 125lbs
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Green
Skin: Fair
Age: 21
Str: 8 (-1) [0 points]
Dex: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Con: 12 (+1) [4 points]
Int: 14 (+2) [6 points]
Wis: 16 (+3) [6 points]
Cha: 16 (+3) [6 points]
Class and Racial Abilities:
+2 to Wisdom and Charisma, Resistance to Acid, Cold, and Electricity 5, Paladin favored class, Daylight 1/day (Caster level 2), Darkvision 60 feet, +2 racial bonus to spot and listen checks, turn undead 6/day, free conversion to cure spells, Trickery and Luck domains.
Hit Dice: 2d8+2
HP: 16
AC: 18 (+2 Dex, +4 armor, +2 shield)
Init: +2 (+2 Dex)
Speed: 30ft
Saves:
Fortitude +4 [+3 base, +1 Con]
Reflex +3 [+1 base, +2 Dex]
Will +6 [+3 base, +3 Wis]
BAB: +1
Melee Atk: +0 (1d4-1/19-20/x2 steel or cold iron dagger)
Ranged Atk: +3 (1d4-1/x2/30 ft., sling) or +3 (1d4-1/19-20/x2/10 ft., steel or cold iron dagger)
Skills:
Bluff +8 (5 ranks, +3 charisma)
Diplomacy +12 (5 ranks, +3 charisma, +4 synergy from Bluff and Sense Motive)
Disguise +8 (5 ranks, +3 charisma), +10 when acting in character (+2 synergy from Bluff)
Intimidate +5 (0 ranks, +3 charisma, +2 synergy bonus from bluff)
Listen +5 (0 ranks, +3 Wisdom, +2 racial bonus)
Sense Motive +10 (5 ranks, +3 wisdom, +2 feat)
Spot +5 (0 ranks, +3 Wisdom, +2 racial bonus)
Feats:
Cosmopolitan: Sense Motive (1st level)
Languages: Common, Celestial, Abyssal
Spells Prepared
Save DC +3
0th – Detect Magic, Light x2, Resistance
1st – Comprehend Languages, Magic Stone, Shield of Faith (D) – Disguise Self
Equipment:
Light horse - 150gp
Bit and bridle - 2gp
Riding saddle - 10gp
Saddlebags - 4gp
Wearing or carrying:
Belt pouch 1gp
Waterskin 1gp
Cold iron dagger 4gp
Mithral Chain shirt 1,100gp
Wooden holy symbol of Olidammara 1gp
Wooden holy symbol of Boccob 1gp
Sling 0gp
10 sling bullets 1sp
Backpack 2gp
Wand of Cure Light Wounds 750gp
Heavy Darkwood Shield 257gp
Vial of ink 8gp
Inkpen 1sp
10 sheets of parchment 10gp
Cut glass spectacles (false) 100gp
Scroll of Magic Stone 25gp
Scroll of Magic Weapon 25gp
Scroll of Disguise Self (4) 100gp
Traveler’s outfit (free)
Masterwork Disguise Kit (100 gp)
Mirror 10gp
On horse:
Wooden Holy Symbols of Corellon Larethian, Ehlonna, Erythnul, Fharlaghn, Pelor, Hextor, Kord, Nerull, Obad-hai, St. Cuthbert, Vecna, and Wee Jas 12gp
Silver holy symbol of Heironius 25gp
50 feet hemp rope 1gp
Grappling Hook 1gp
4 day’s trail rations 2gp
3 bottles of fine wine 30gp
Money
26gp 7sp
Appearance:
Aeweth and Rhesa look much the same. Both are of middling height, with a graceful and curvaceous body, shoulder length blond hair, striking green eyes, and generally quite beautiful. The two of them have an easy smile and a quick laugh in common, and both tend to reach their eyes (although for different reasons- Aeweth is genuinely amused with the topic at hand, but Rhesa is most likely laughing at you).
In dress, Aeweth carries around an (affected) studious air, often carrying an appropriately intimidating looking tome and wearing as scholarly robes as are practical for the task at hand- obviously less so when out on the road. She wears her hair in a bun at the top of her head, and an expensive pair of cut glass spectacles perched on her nose. Being somewhat vain, she tends to wear clothing that accentuates her figure. Her holy symbol of Boccob is proudly displayed.
Rhesa tends to be more practical. Much like Aeweth, she dresses to impress, although the goal is to use what she’s got to her best advantage rather than appeal to her own vanity. Her armor is so light as to be almost nonexistent, so although it is still somewhat bulky, she tends to wear her clothing over it rather than under it. That clothing typically consists of loose leather breeches and long sleeved tunics in attractively bright colors. She makes sure to always wear long sleeves- they hide the patches of iridescent scales that exist in patches on her arms, legs and torso, marks of a lillend or perhaps a couatl somewhere far, far back in her bloodline. Her holy symbol to Olidammara is hidden under a fold of her robe- she can grasp it when she needs it, but it’s out of sight.
Personality and background:
Aeweth is a scholar. Sort of. Truth be told, she managed to gain the title more by parental pressure (on both her to work hard and her tutors to praise her) and the intellectual equivalent of brute force than any actual smarts. She’s a spoiled child of a merchant who wanted his daughter to be well educated, but she’s never really had the mind for it. She’d rather she was one of the merchant’s daughters who got to dress up, go to parties, and eventually get married to some young nobleman. Sigh.
Well, that didn’t work. Boccob seems to like her, though. She seems to have more success worshipping the idea of knowledge than actually learning stuff. But now she’s short on cash. What ever will she do?
Aeweth is more than a little ditzy. She tries so hard to be intellectual, but really, there’s not much up there. It’s mostly stubbornness, parental pressure and fear of failing that’s gotten her this far. She’s a nice enough person, although she’s more likely to latch onto a charismatic individual or go along with the majority than to actually take a moral stand of her own. She is more than a little vain, enjoying dressing up when she gets the chance.
Rhesa is a combination of a number of contradictions, and she takes no small delight in succeeding at the internal balancing act that is required to keep them all in sync. She’s bright but takes no particular delight in books (she loves philosophical and moral debate, however). She is outgoing but has no particular desire to lead. She is knee-jerk rebellious- it’s her revolt against her angelic ancestry that’s led her to where she is today- but at the same time she’s willing to go with the flow, up to a point, if it’s easier for her to do so. She’s a tomboy- none of the spoiled princess schtick for her (unless she’s running a con that requires it)- but at the same time she takes no small delight in the looks she can draw if she just wears the right clothes. She’s thoroughly immoral- look out for number one!- but at the same time she’s exceedingly reluctant to take a life, and the more depraved sorts of evil are definitely not her cup of tea. Depending on their sort, she’ll put up with them (especially if the perpetrator is someone she wishes to avoid drawing the attention of) but she’d rather not have to.
The moral ambiguity runs deeper than that, though. She knows perfectly well that good and evil are very real, very solid concepts- and that with demons, devils, and angels running around as embodiments of such, it can be hard not to take sides sometimes. But she won’t, dammit. Just because her great-great-grandfather got drunk and slept with a lillend doesn’t mean she has to act any other way than she chooses- and just because she chooses not to act like her celestial forebears doesn’t mean she’s bound for hell, either.
Rhesa was raised by monks, donated at a young age to the church of Pelor (who her actual parents are, she doesn’t know). The well meaning but ultimately ineffective monks tried to school her in the ways of good (as Rhesa would put it, “Godliness and light and yadda yadda yadda”), but all she could think of how easy it was to blame her own wrongdoings on other children with a convincing smile or some fake tears, and how the same tactics could be used to, for example, swipe some of the sweets that the ascetic monks doled out so sparingly. Suffice to say that the moment she convinced the monks that she was ready for life outside the monastery walls, she quickly fell in with a crowd of thieves. With her easy way with people she took part in no small number of cons, and she was daring enough often enough that she offered enough prayers to the Laughing God of Thieves that she and him reached an arrangement.
Rhesa led a double life- during one part of the day she was a good little religious girl, serving food at a restaurant that catered to rich noble patrons, and the rest she was conning marks for as much as she could take them. In the “straight” part of her life, there was even a potential marriage prospect, something that amused her to no end- especially considering the boy in question was a fresh-faced young priest of Heironious. Oh well, she thought to herself. He’s a nice guy and no one’s getting hurt. A good time will be had by all.
Rhesa had made a bet with the universe, heaven and hell alike- she’ll dance joyously in the grey areas of life, and she won’t fall, and she won’t rise. She’ll stay right where she is and she’ll be happy doing it, thank you very much. Being the daring soul she is, she’s even dared the universe to try and throw her something that she can’t handle without taking a moral stand or sliding into evil. She sought out her young priest as much because she knew he would moralize to her as anything else, and she took sketchier and sketcher jobs on the underworld side of things.
This all worked out nicely until she took part in an assassination attempt on a noble coming to eat at her place of employment. Next thing she knew, her young priest was coming in to give her a last confession before the hanging tomorrow, the wonder evidenced in his face- how could the nice young girl he had prayed with be the same as the one who had handed off poison to be slipped into the duke’s supper? To her lasting regret, Rhesa never resolved the mystery for him- she clocked him upside the head while he was puckering up for one last kiss and made her getaway, taking his holy symbol to remember him by. She still feels pretty scummy about that bit.
So here she is now… short of cash, much like her current cover persona, Aeweth. She needs a job, and she feels confident enough now to take another chance with the universe and prove that, really, she’s not evil any more than she is good. And what better way to test one’s moral fiber than hang out with this lot?
Last edited:
flyingricepaddy
First Post
All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players
- Shakespeare
Fabian
Human Bard 3
Alignment Neutral
STR 10
DEX 14
CON 10
INT 12
WIS 12
CHA 16
FORT 1
REFL 5 (3+2DEX)
WILL 4 (3+1WIS)
BAB +2
MAB +2
RAB +4 (2+2DEX)
INIT +2
AC 17 (10+2DEX+5armor)
WEAPONS
Masterwork shortbow: +5att (+1in30, -2rapid), 1d6dam (+1in30)
Longsword: +2att, 1d8dmg
SKILLS
Bluff 9 (6+3CHA)
Concentration 3 (3)
Diplomacy 13 (6+3CHA+4SYN)
Disguise 6 (3+3CHA) (+2SYN acting)
Gather Information 9 (6+3CHA)
Perform (oratory) 9 (6+3CHA)
Sense Motive 7 (6+1WIS)
Spellcraft 7 (6+1INT) (+2SYN decipher scroll)
Use Magic Device 9 (6+3CHA) (+2SYN scrolls)
FEATS
Point Blank Shot
Rapid Shot
Spell Focus (Enchantment)
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Bardic Knowledge +4
Bardic Music: countersong, fascinate, inspire courage+1, inspire competence
SPELLS
LEVEL 0 (3)
Daze
Detect Magic
Ghost Sound
Light
Lullaby
Message
LEVEL 1 (2)
Charm Person
Cure Light Wounds
Hideous Laughter
EQUIPMENT
Chain shirt +1 (1250)
Masterwork shortbow (375)
Longsword (15)
Disguise Self Scroll*2 (50)
Sleep Scroll*5 (125)
Pass w/o Trace Scroll, lvl 2 *2 (100)
Everburning torch (110)
Tindertwig*5 (5)
Thunderstone*3 (90)
Light warhorse (150)
Bit&bridle (2)
Riding saddle (30)
Saddlebags (4)
Backpack (2)
Bedroll (.1)
Blanket (.5)
Waterskin (1)
Courtier's outfit (30)
Traveller's outfit (1)
Peasan'ts outfit (.1)
Disguise kit (50)
Silk rope (10)
25pp 48gp 13sp
Fabian appears to be a perfectly normal person. No: in truth, he appears to be a great fellow, friendly, warm, with a ready smile, and always looking for ways to lighten the mood of those around him. Full of style and grace and charm.
Who would guess that he is a moral idiot, that the part of his soul meant to serve as his conscience has died, or perhaps was stillborn. He views real world men and women--and their failures, their tragedies, their suffering--as others would view characters in a story or a ballad. If harm comes to another, it is cause for the sharp intake of breath, the widened eyes, perhaps even tears. But genuine, lasting dismay? A desire to remedy the situation, to see that it does not worsen, or happen again? Whatever for?
And of course, if real tragedies are of a piece with fictional tragedies, then to be responsible for a real tragedy is simply to be the author of a tragic story. And if it's a good story, a truly poignant one, then it's only fitting that its author should feel a sense of pride.
Of course, sometimes an author--even one who prefers tragic endings--likes to insert moments of triumph into a story. An artist's whimsy is difficult to predict.
BACKGROUND
Fabian's background is quite unremarkable. He is the middle son in a family just wealthy enough to allow him to spend all his time in youth preoccupied with artistic matters. He trained as a (gasp!) bard, and, by all accounts, was a quite talented but otherwise completely normal person until he happened across an old lady being crushed by an equally old mule (equally old in mule years, that is). Some others saw the lady falling under the beast, and they also saw Fabian stand idly by, looking on curiously rather than lifting a finger to help.
As these other witnesses ran to help in his stead, they also saw him move toward the lady and--no, they saw him move toward the mule, to slit its throat. Again, he offered no help to the old lady.
Shortly thereafter, the lady perished (and in Fabian's defence it might be mentioned that she would have died no matter what he had done, and in any case he didn't actually do anything to help her die). Almost immediately, Fabian was rather rudely questioned about his (in)actions by the crowd that was starting to gather about. His patient explanations (delivered through eyes welling with tears, for it had been a very agonizing scene) regarding the aesthetics of the situation were received in a decidedly cold manner.
With some well-placed utterances and facial expressions, Fabian extricated himself from the situation with ample haste. He knew well enough what that sort of coldness meant, and promptly took his leave of his (subsequently former) home. He did this against the express wishes of some of the more lynch-inclined members of the community, but he had help from his mother and a couple of old friends, who (of course) just knew that there had been some sort of tragic misunderstanding.
And Fabian agreed that there was a misunderstanding, though not in the way his loyal friends and family might have thought. He was starting to realize that he didn't really understand the way people thought about things. Everyone else was just too strange. Which (he supposed) meant that the strange one was actually his own good self.
PERSONALITY & PSYCHOLOGY
Where others have moral ideals, Fabian has only aesthetic ones. Sometimes this has outrageous consequences, sometimes it escapes notice utterly.
In most situations, Fabian is completely normal. With regards to his own welfare, and the welfare of those he cares about (and such persons do enter his life from time to time), his behaviour is quite unremarkable. And even when it comes to casual acquaintances or complete strangers, he usually acts normally. He congratulates, commiserates, expresses sympathy--anything that doesn't require substantive action--in the appropriate circumstances, and does so very convincingly.
But when it comes to deciding whether or not to actually help or harm someone to whom he has no particular attachment, Fabian is in a culture of one. He has a keen awareness of the opinions of others on this subject (in roughly the same way that chimp researchers have a keen awareness of the grooming rituals of chimps), and is also keenly aware of the fate that may befall him should he be seen diverging from certain expected patterns of behaviour too sharply. But he has no idea where the general populace gets its "morality" from, or why it's seen as being so darned important.
And all the men and women merely players
- Shakespeare
Fabian
Human Bard 3
Alignment Neutral
STR 10
DEX 14
CON 10
INT 12
WIS 12
CHA 16
FORT 1
REFL 5 (3+2DEX)
WILL 4 (3+1WIS)
BAB +2
MAB +2
RAB +4 (2+2DEX)
INIT +2
AC 17 (10+2DEX+5armor)
WEAPONS
Masterwork shortbow: +5att (+1in30, -2rapid), 1d6dam (+1in30)
Longsword: +2att, 1d8dmg
SKILLS
Bluff 9 (6+3CHA)
Concentration 3 (3)
Diplomacy 13 (6+3CHA+4SYN)
Disguise 6 (3+3CHA) (+2SYN acting)
Gather Information 9 (6+3CHA)
Perform (oratory) 9 (6+3CHA)
Sense Motive 7 (6+1WIS)
Spellcraft 7 (6+1INT) (+2SYN decipher scroll)
Use Magic Device 9 (6+3CHA) (+2SYN scrolls)
FEATS
Point Blank Shot
Rapid Shot
Spell Focus (Enchantment)
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Bardic Knowledge +4
Bardic Music: countersong, fascinate, inspire courage+1, inspire competence
SPELLS
LEVEL 0 (3)
Daze
Detect Magic
Ghost Sound
Light
Lullaby
Message
LEVEL 1 (2)
Charm Person
Cure Light Wounds
Hideous Laughter
EQUIPMENT
Chain shirt +1 (1250)
Masterwork shortbow (375)
Longsword (15)
Disguise Self Scroll*2 (50)
Sleep Scroll*5 (125)
Pass w/o Trace Scroll, lvl 2 *2 (100)
Everburning torch (110)
Tindertwig*5 (5)
Thunderstone*3 (90)
Light warhorse (150)
Bit&bridle (2)
Riding saddle (30)
Saddlebags (4)
Backpack (2)
Bedroll (.1)
Blanket (.5)
Waterskin (1)
Courtier's outfit (30)
Traveller's outfit (1)
Peasan'ts outfit (.1)
Disguise kit (50)
Silk rope (10)
25pp 48gp 13sp
Fabian appears to be a perfectly normal person. No: in truth, he appears to be a great fellow, friendly, warm, with a ready smile, and always looking for ways to lighten the mood of those around him. Full of style and grace and charm.
Who would guess that he is a moral idiot, that the part of his soul meant to serve as his conscience has died, or perhaps was stillborn. He views real world men and women--and their failures, their tragedies, their suffering--as others would view characters in a story or a ballad. If harm comes to another, it is cause for the sharp intake of breath, the widened eyes, perhaps even tears. But genuine, lasting dismay? A desire to remedy the situation, to see that it does not worsen, or happen again? Whatever for?
And of course, if real tragedies are of a piece with fictional tragedies, then to be responsible for a real tragedy is simply to be the author of a tragic story. And if it's a good story, a truly poignant one, then it's only fitting that its author should feel a sense of pride.
Of course, sometimes an author--even one who prefers tragic endings--likes to insert moments of triumph into a story. An artist's whimsy is difficult to predict.
BACKGROUND
Fabian's background is quite unremarkable. He is the middle son in a family just wealthy enough to allow him to spend all his time in youth preoccupied with artistic matters. He trained as a (gasp!) bard, and, by all accounts, was a quite talented but otherwise completely normal person until he happened across an old lady being crushed by an equally old mule (equally old in mule years, that is). Some others saw the lady falling under the beast, and they also saw Fabian stand idly by, looking on curiously rather than lifting a finger to help.
As these other witnesses ran to help in his stead, they also saw him move toward the lady and--no, they saw him move toward the mule, to slit its throat. Again, he offered no help to the old lady.
Shortly thereafter, the lady perished (and in Fabian's defence it might be mentioned that she would have died no matter what he had done, and in any case he didn't actually do anything to help her die). Almost immediately, Fabian was rather rudely questioned about his (in)actions by the crowd that was starting to gather about. His patient explanations (delivered through eyes welling with tears, for it had been a very agonizing scene) regarding the aesthetics of the situation were received in a decidedly cold manner.
With some well-placed utterances and facial expressions, Fabian extricated himself from the situation with ample haste. He knew well enough what that sort of coldness meant, and promptly took his leave of his (subsequently former) home. He did this against the express wishes of some of the more lynch-inclined members of the community, but he had help from his mother and a couple of old friends, who (of course) just knew that there had been some sort of tragic misunderstanding.
And Fabian agreed that there was a misunderstanding, though not in the way his loyal friends and family might have thought. He was starting to realize that he didn't really understand the way people thought about things. Everyone else was just too strange. Which (he supposed) meant that the strange one was actually his own good self.
PERSONALITY & PSYCHOLOGY
Where others have moral ideals, Fabian has only aesthetic ones. Sometimes this has outrageous consequences, sometimes it escapes notice utterly.
In most situations, Fabian is completely normal. With regards to his own welfare, and the welfare of those he cares about (and such persons do enter his life from time to time), his behaviour is quite unremarkable. And even when it comes to casual acquaintances or complete strangers, he usually acts normally. He congratulates, commiserates, expresses sympathy--anything that doesn't require substantive action--in the appropriate circumstances, and does so very convincingly.
But when it comes to deciding whether or not to actually help or harm someone to whom he has no particular attachment, Fabian is in a culture of one. He has a keen awareness of the opinions of others on this subject (in roughly the same way that chimp researchers have a keen awareness of the grooming rituals of chimps), and is also keenly aware of the fate that may befall him should he be seen diverging from certain expected patterns of behaviour too sharply. But he has no idea where the general populace gets its "morality" from, or why it's seen as being so darned important.
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Brother Shatterstone
Dark Moderator of PbP
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