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Enchanted Trinkets Complete--a hardcover book containing over 500 magic items for your D&D games!

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Casar Couer De' Lion" data-source="post: 1048434" data-attributes="member: 13063">Mercuchio FlameDrakeMercuchio FlameDrakeHalf-Elf MaleBard 1Alignment: CGStr: 10; Dex 16; Con 10; Int 14; Wis 7; Cha 18BAB: 0;  Melee: 0;  Ranged: +3;Inititive: +3;  Base Speed 30ftFort: 0; Ref +5; Will 0; +2 vs enchantments (racial)HP: 6AC: 17 [10 base, +3 dex, +3 studded Leather, +1 buckler]Attacks:+0 rapier 1d6 damage 18-20/x2 crit+0 dagger 1d4 damage 19-20 crit (kept in boot)+3 light crossbow 1d8 damage 19-20/x2 crit, 80ft rangeHalf-Elf TraitsImmunity to SleepLow-Light Vision+1 Search, Spot, Listen checks+2 Gather Information, DiplomacyElven BloodBard AbilitiesBardic KnowledgeBardic Music1/day:  countersong, fascinate, inspire courage +1 Skills:Bluff +8 [4 ranks, +4 cha]Spellcraft +6 [4 ranks, +2 int]Diplomacy +12 [4 ranks, +4 cha, +2 Half-elf, +2 Negotiator] (bg)Disguise +8 [4 ranks, +4 cha]Gather Information +10 [4 ranks, +4 Cha, +2 Half-Elf]Perform +8 [4 ranks, +4 cha]            (Pan Pipes, Mandolin, Melody, Speech) Slight of Hand +5 [4 ranks, +3 dex, -2 armor]Use Magic Divice +8 [4 ranks, +4 cha]Tumble +5 [4 ranks, +3 dex, -2 armor]Languages:CommonElvenDraconicGnomeFeats:Negotiator (bg)Rapid ReloadMagic0-2/day DC 14Known Spells:Detect MagicRead MagicDaze Summon InstrumentEquipment:RapierDaggerLight Crossbowcrossbow bolts (20)Studded Leather armorBuckler shieldPipes of HauntingMandolinBackpackBedrollWinter BlanketMap Case (5)CrowbarFlint and SteelGrappling HookSilk Rope (50')Hooded LanternOil (4 pints)Parchment (20)InkpenInk (1 oz)Signet RingSealing WaxWaterskinRations (6 days)belt pouchGold:1pp 4gp 9spAppearence:  A noble figure standing a good 5'4" he demands presense in any room, although this may be because of his clothes.  He is not well built a measly 130 lbs. but his constant dancing and grace give away his quick reflexes.  His eyes are a pure crystal blue, that always seem to sparkle when he wants them to.  His golden hair runs down to his shoulders frames his long face perfectly and seem to perfectly complement his usually beaming smile.Background:  In some senses I was born a bard.  I have been on the road nearly my whole life and I learned the trade early on from one of the best.  My father Wygon Flamedrake was one of the most sought after entertainers to any noble gathering.  He had a way with words that could entrance any audiance, and a presense to demand attention.  He was sly and quick of wit so he could be quick to tell a joke or even pull a con with little trouble.  His reputation grew and grew over my youth, and soon he was simply refered to as "The Drake."  I suppose this was the nobilities thank you to my father for he had a skill and proffession far greater then perfromance.  My dad was the mouth for hire for much of the area.  Any negotiations be it for trade or surrendor both parties sought "The Drake" to be a spokesmen and whichever party paid the most usually got his services and the better deal in the end. Thus "The Drake" lived his life with me at his side.  A page for him when performing and a scribe durring negotiations.  He taught me everything he knew including a little number that was killer with the ladies, (the number that even influenced an elf to bed a "lowly" human and thus bring me to being).  Our lives were quite fine as I approached twenty-fifth birthday.  I had started becoming quite the player in the courts as well.  Entertaining alongside my father, and devilishly digging up dirt for his negotiations.  A teamwork was perfect, and dispite my fathers growing age (53), he had not lost a step.  All was grand.... but who reads stories about things that all go well.  To think that my father would not have had enemies would be neive, for often his antics or negotiating would harbor ill relations with some of the nobility.  I still know not who or how they did it, but somehow someone found a way to alter my fathers signiture instrument.  The pan pipes a usually delightful wind instrument that brings the entire court into a jig and a smile.  Until the night that he played and only sorrow rang from the notes.  I felt the cold chill of woe brace me as I listened to his song, and so did much of the court.  Looking at him I was scared, scared of my own father and so was our host who fled briefly in complete panic.  Only to come to his senses and realize the trick for what it was.  My father was quickly siezed for conspiring against the court with the ways of magic, and briskly executed in the morning.  I was to face trial, but with skill learned from "The Drake" himself I fled away, manageing to gather my fathers pipes before I left.  Thus a year has passed, I have now reached The Free City and know not what I will find there.   I have no leads to who framed my father, and little fortune to live on after all we had strived for was taken.  I now must seek to create my own name and honor my fathers memory.  His pipes I keep at my side always, yet every time I press them to my lips I dread what notes may issue forth.</blockquote>

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