Such Tangled Webs They Weave is an instance of the City of the Spider Queen adventure with a few minor modifications. The group navigating the adventure consists of eight adventurers who are following behind another group of four as they try to find the source of a magical disturbance in the Weave.
The game will follow the eight core party members as they go through the adventure with occassional cameos by the members of the other group when they encounter each other.
Non-player Characters Fersab Dawnglory - High Priest of Daggerdale's Temple of Lathander [dead] Randal Morn - Lord of Daggerdale Gareth - Priest of Ilmater Harral - Warrior under Randal Morn, part of initial drow tracking party Gregalevithix - Dragon King of the Goblins Earthstar - Earth elemental familiar of Gregalevithix Pelifia - Elven Cleric, mentally disturbed Illanis - Halfling adventurer Helgeis d'Santh - Drow matron of the Silvered Web
Combat Encounters Gargoyle Attack Swarm Eaters Akritaur Displacer Vasuthant Fast White Dragon Zombie Roper Gravetouched Vazalkyon Ghoul Drow Advanced Guard Drow Guard Post Drow Barracks Gargantuan Fiendish Monstrous Spider
Links to previous threads in the Such Tangled Webs They Weave game can be found below:
All players should either post their character sheet or reserve one space for their character and then refrain from any additional posting. Once all of the players have reserved their spots I will post an introduction into the new thread and we can begin playing again.
Maneuvers (3 known, 3 readied, max level 3rd): *Bonecrusher - +4d6, fort save or all crit attempts are +10 to confirm *Insightful Strike - concentration check = damage (only really good with high con score) *Disarming Strike - disarm as part of successful melee attack
*Shadow Garrote (from gloves, always considered readied, does not expend) - 5d6 ranged touch
Stances (1 known, max level 3rd): *Absolute Steel - +10 to move speed, +2 dodge bonus to AC if move at least 10 feet
Half-elf (w/Drow Legacy) traits - immune to magical sleep - +2 bonus to saving throws vs. enchantment spells or effects - low-light vision - +1 racial bonus on listen, search, and spot - +2 racial bonus on diplomacy and gather information - elven blood - favoured class: any - +2 bonus on will saves against spells and spell-like abilities - exotic weapon proficiency (hand crossbow) - Undercommon and drow dialect of Elven as automatic languages - spell-like abilities, 1/day: Dancing Lights, Darkness, Faerie Fire (caster level = class level) - dazzled (-1 to attacks, saves, checks) in bright sunlight or within daylight spell
Binder features - Soul binding (2 vestiges) - Pact augmentation (2): +1 to AC, +1 to AC - Suppress sign - Soul guardian (immune to fear) - save DC 25 on supernatural effects granted by vestiges (10 + effective binder level/2 + cha mod*1.5)
Warblade features - Battle Clarity (int bonus to reflex saves whenever not flat-footed) - Weapon Aptitude
Melia was born in the forests known as the Archwood, in northern Sembia, the half-breed of two fugitives, rebelling against the societies in which they were hewn.
Her mother was called Minrae, of the House Phaeanis. Thrust into training for the priesthood at an early age, Minrae quickly lost her taste for the vicious nature of life in the Underdark and found her fear and respect of their patron Lolth turning more and more to hatred and loathing. It was then that Eilistraee appeared to her in a dream, beckoning with two simple words, "Ascend, child." Minrae found her way to the surface and almost immediately ran into an adventuring party, run by a young merchant noble named Andras Selkirk. Seeing that she was alone (and very attractive and barely clothed), he asked her to travel with them, hoping to gain valuable information about the Drow culture.
As they adventured together, they became friends and more, and it was not very long before a child was conceived. They attempted to settle down for a time in Daerlun, to raise the child, but it seemed just as fate had conspired to bring them together it would likewise drive them apart.
Andras began to grow more and more tired of the adventuring life, and even moreso of the conniving nature of his merchant house. Minrae, at the same time, was frustrated by the constant need for secrecy and disguise, knowing that members of her race were not often accepted as viable members of surface society (she most of all resented Andras' preference that she be disguised as a human woman). So, they fled the city and made themselves a home in the Archwood. Andras took the name Kobor, breaking his ties with his merchant kin. Shortly thereafter, a daughter, Melia was born.
As Andras' comfort with life in the woodlands grew, so did Minrae's boredom and wanderlust. One day, when Melia was but four years of age, she awoke to find her mother gone without so much as a word.
Her father raised her as best he could, knowing he could not keep her hidden and sheltered in the woods forever. He taught her the value of disguise, and would bring her occasionally to the city, so that she might find a taste for society and not grow up as wild and flighty as her mother.
A skilled swordsman, he attempted to teach Melia the martial way, but she never paid much attention to his lessons, dancing and singing instead of performing his drills and exercises. She was far more interested in the libraries of the cities they visited, and relished these visits. She would spend hours rifling through old texts, fascinated by any reading she could lay eyes on.
As she matured, she began to sneak away despite her father's wishes and warnings, making solo trips to the city to delve further and further into older and more obscure texts. It was through this unquenchable thirst for knowledge (and through a friend and, briefly, a lover she made in the process, a cleric of Oghma) that she discovered pact magic. The study of binder history quickly became her favourite subject, along with the interest she always held in the Drow. By reading about the latter, she subconsciously hoped to learn more about her mother who disappeared when she was so young.
She stole a few books and began practicing binding at home, hiding it from her father. He eventually discovered what his daughter had been doing and was enraged, demanding that she stop "that insidious witchcraft" at once or leave his home. Temper flaring, she snatched up her books and stormed out of the house. She realised later that night that she would need more than just her books if she were to set out on her own, so she returned to her home and broke in, intending to take her things and leave again without having to confront her father. His temper had cooled, however, and he regretted his words. So when she managed to sneak in, he was there waiting for her. Melia's father begged her to stay, but she refused. He sighed, nodding his head; he had always known this day would come. "Take these, then," he requested, opening an intricately carved wooden box. "They were commissioned for your mother." Inside were a pair of shining black gems, carved in the shape of two delicate hands. When Melia moved to pick them up, they vanished and a pair of black silk gloves appeared on her own hands. She could feel their power coursing through her.
So she left, and given her fascination with her mother's kind, and her general dislike for the bright light of day, she found her way into the Underdark. She worked as a mercenary for a time, serving as a hired soldier for trade caravans. She walked a perilous line, sometimes disguising herself as a dark elf noblewoman (taking her mother's surname of Phaeanis, and the first name Laeli, which means "daughter of night") to find work with their kind, and sometimes appearing human, to work for those who were less friendly towards the Drow. Though she grew frustrated with the dark elves' vicious ways, she was able to see that it was a product of their society and not built into their nature, and preferred to travel as Laeli whenever possible.
She progressed in her knowledge and ability, and after a time she discovered the vestige called Dantalion. She felt a strong connection to him, and basked in the access to his wealth of knowledge in all things, and his given ability to read others' thoughts. Using this and her own skill, she began to find more work, selling information and general intelligence to whoever was willing to pay for it. She would, however, often give misleading information to those whose thoughts belied particularly evil intent.
This did on at least one occasion get her into a significant amount of trouble, and on one recent and particularly nasty run-in with a group of driders, her desperation released latent memories of her father's teachings, and she used several martial techniques to finish off her attackers, saving her life and keeping her Drow persona as Laeli Phaeanis viable.
She continues in her quest for knowledge, and her subtle attempts to undermine the evil doings in the area, hoping to somehow subvert Lolth's subjugation of her people and help them peacefully coexist with other beings.
Melia possesses a slender, sculpted figure, platinum white hair flowing down about her shoulders. She wears a shirt of elven chain armour ending in a fine belt from which hangs an ornate rapier and a traditional dark elf hand crossbow. Continuing down, one would instantly notice the lack of leggings, her legs bare but for a sheathed curved dagger strapped to the outside of one thigh. She wears knee-high black boots which seem to coordinate with the black silk gloves that tightly cover her hands and forearms.
Melia is most often seen as Laeli, a drow noblewoman just barely of mature age. This persona wears even less than the real thing, keeping the boots and gloves pretty much as they are, and clothed in an evocative suit of fine leather that stretches across her ebony frame like spider webs, covering the important parts and leaving little else to the imagination. She keeps her ornate rapier visible, thinking it helps add to the appearance and implication of nobility.
Melia is a woman of strong character. She takes pride in her appearance, and tends to flaunt her considerably attractive looks. To some, this may come across as narcissistic or vain, but she resents either opinion strongly, seeing no fault in being confident in her appearance. She can also be very amorous, though by her own count she has had far too few lovers since beginning her travels beneath the surface, as she is usually unwilling to compromise her disguises. Melia's preference for traveling as Laeli, while useful, is truly more from a combination of pride in her heritage and emulating a glorified memory of her mother than it is utilitarian. She hopes to somehow find her mother some day, and when she is able, she attempts to use her considerable skill for gathering information to research who she was, at the very least before she came to the surface. Her thirst for knowledge is likewise unquenchable, and it is this intense curiosity that has fueled her many adventures thus far. Despite parting ways on somewhat rough terms, and not having spoken to him for several years on account of adventuring, Melia loves and respects her father (though she considers him a boring old man), and hopes to someday return to the surface and visit him.
[list][*]City Slicker (Races of Destiny) [color=silver][size=1]Disguise, Forgery, Gather Information and Knowledge (local) always class skills[/size][/color] [*]Empower Spell (Player's Handbook, 9th level) [color=silver][size=1]We all know this one.[/size][/color] [*]Racial Emulation (Races of Eberron) [color=silver][size=1]Get racial subtypes with minor change shape ability[/size][/color] [*]Sudden Empower (Complete Arcane, bonus feat) [color=silver][size=1]Empower 1 spell/day without increased casting time[/size][/color] [*]Persona Immersion (Races of Eberron) [color=silver][size=1]Give misleading results to [i]detect thoughts[/i], etc. with a save[/size][/color][/list]
[list] [*] Medium. [*] Base land speed is 30 feet. [*] Humanoid, [shapechanger]. [*]+2 racial bonus to saving throws vs. sleep, charm. [*]+2 racial bonus on Bluff, Intimidate, Sense Motive. [*] Minor Change Shape (Su): [size=1][i]disguise self[/i] at will as a full round action. Permanent until changing shape again, or killed. Doesn't affect equipment.[/size] [*] Speak Language always class skill. [*] Favored Class: Rogue.[/list]
Armored Mage (light)
Advanced Learning - Tenser's floating disk at 3rd level and Manyjaws at 6th level.
Sudden Empower bonus feat.
Metamorphic casting (components) 2/day
Sudden metamagic (Empower Spell) 2/day
Expanded Knowledge - Chain of Eyes (SC) at 9th level.
Spells CL: 8 6 0 level spells per day 7 1st 7 2nd 6 3rd 4 4th. Cho spontaneously casts all spells up to 4th level on Warmage spell list (Complete Arcane, page 90) plus Tenser's floating disk, Manyjaws, and Chain of Eyes. Save DC 14+ spell level
Combat Notes Spells ignoring spell resistance: Lesser Acid/Fire/etc. Orb, Melf's Acid Arrow, Blast of Flame, Orb of Acid/Fire/Etc.
In his natural form, Cho is a textbook example of a male changeling: grey unfeatured skin, flat white hair cut to ear length, silver eyes. Nothing much is distinctive about Cho in this form; even his 'true' voice sounds flat and devoid of tone or accent. Few see him in this form though. (+32 disguise check to be another male changeling)
Most see him as Serina Skyfire an unfriendly, pragmatic, and solitary mage serving as Randal Morn's agent (Morn knows Cho's true nature). To call Serina unattractive is a complement. Her figure is heavyset, her eyes beady, and her facial features look as though they were carved from small boulders - very rough boulders. Mottled, ruddy skin and ragged hair complete the look of "Lord Morn's Witch" (as the few Dalesfolk who pay her any heed have titled her). This unattractiveness is intentional - Cho does not want to attract attention, and Serina repels curious eyes. (+25 to Disguise check to be Serina)
There are times when he needs to win others' confidence. Then he is Jalander d'Aziel, the charming and handsome half-moon elf. Cho favors the wavy hair and head-turning face of this form when traveling. With pale skin, shining green eyes, and a prince's smile, there is a long trail of broken hearts left behind this identity.
Sometimes a spy must appear threatening, and sometimes he must appear foolish. Cho can find both in the guise of Thamm the Bleeder, a loudmouthed half-orc bruiser who's all swagger and only half warrior. His military experience and limited combat training allow Cho to impersonate a fighter of far less experience, but for the most part Thamm has a cowardly streak and prefers weaker foes. It took a long time to master Thamm's dreadlocks and broken nose, and he's particularly proud of the shapechanging technique behind this alias.
Cho is also perfectly capable of creating new identities on the fly if need be.
Changelings, by nature, are outcasts. One such outcast, abandoned as a freak to the streets of Westgate, was discovered by a younger Randal Morn. The exile leader of Daggerdale was in the city incognito, seeking to discreetly purchase arms and information for the four-year-old resistance movement he'd organized against the Zhents in Daggerdale. By pure coincidence (and the sound of a heavy purse), he came across a six-year-old street urchin with powers of disguise far beyond human capabilities, and a fast friendship started. When Randal Morn set off to return to Daggerdale, his 'little brother' followed.
The changeling child was eager to help Morn in his mission, but mistrust against those with doppelganger blood runs deep. Even among Morn's most loyal soldiers, there was little love for the boy from Westgate. In his early adolescence Cho tried to help the resistance cause as best he could, but when Zhent agents eventually found out there was a young changeling spy working for Randal Morn, he decided he'd become a liability, and left Morn at the age of thirteen.
Wandering into Deepingdale, Cho found a young man with a dilemma. Kern Hillsmont was a merchant's son who wanted desperately to marry his sweetheart. His parents opposed the match, however, and wished for him to 'make something of himself'. With Cho's help, Kern eloped with said sweetheart into the hills of the dale. In turn, Cho assumed Kern's identity and underwent militia training, eventually to become an apprentice warmage. The two young men ran around maintaining the lie for three years, when Kern finally confessed to his parents. Cho promptly disappeared, returning to the other dales to practice his newfound magic on monsters and drow.
Four years ago, a mercenary warmage named Serina Skyfire offered her services to Randal Morn, and has been his reclusive weapon ever since. What only Randal Morn and his most trusted servants know is that Serina is actually the changeling Cho, returned to repay what he considers a life's debt. Cho is a shapechanger with a mission, whose entire existence revolves about being whomever Randal Morn needs him to be.
Recently: Cho, in his guise as Serina Skyfire, was assigned along with Torel Silvanus to accompany the party with their mission by Lord Morn. When the mission began, none of his companions know his true identity, which is just how he liked it. Keeping his nature and the full extent of his disguise capabilities hidden from enemies, present or potential, is important to serving his function as Lord Morn's spymage, and the drow certainly count as enemies. Fully aware as he is of the drow's capability to draw information from unwilling subjects through torture and magic, it was simply best in Cho's mind to simply not risk further exposure if not necessary. However, an encounter with a nasty formwarping spell forced Cho into his true form long enough for his companions to notice. He has given them what information he felt was necessary and no more. Secretly, Cho is hoping he can conclude the mission as quickly as possible; the risk of one of the party giving away the fact Lord Morn possesses a changeling among his intelligence assets is a problematic one.
Simon Lodish, Warrior Priest of Torm Human Paragon 3/Cleric 4/Prestige Paladin 3/Fist of Raziel 1 Medium LG Humanoid (Human); Patron Deity: Torm 6'4" tall, 224 wt, 19 yrs old 56988 xp SimonThePaladin
Init +1; Senses Darkvision 60 ft., Listen +6, Spot +4 Aura of Good, Law, Courage, Magic Circle against Evil Languages Common, Damarran, Undercommon, Drow Sign Language
AC 20 (+0 size +1 Dex +1 natural +6 armor +2 shield), touch 11, flat-footed 19; magic circle v. evil hp-9/79 (11 HD); DR (none) Fort +16 (10 base +4 Cha +2 Con), Ref +8 (3 base +1 Dex +4 Cha), Will +16 (8 base +4 Wis +4 Cha); magic circle v. evil Immune: Fear, mental influences and possession, natural attacks of non-good summons (see protection from evil),
Speed 30 ft. [6 squares]
Melee+1 holy greatsword +12/+7 (2d6+4/19-20 x2) or Melee+1 holy greatsword +10/+5 (2d6+8/19-20 x2) with Power Attack (-2) or Ranged Masterwork Composite Longbow +11/+6 (1d8+2, x3, 110') Ranged Frystalline Longbow +10/+5 (1d8, x3, 100')
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft. (10 ft. w/ reach weapon) Base Atk +9; Grapple +11; Trip +2; Disarm +4
Atk Options Power Attack, Divine Might (+4 dmg), Smite Evil (0/2)/day (+4 atk, +4 dmg), spells Special Actions Detect Evil, summon mount, lay on hands (0/24 hp), turn undead ((2/7)/day) Combat Gearwand of cure light wounds (46), potion of undetectable alignment x2
Active Spells/Effects: + Magic circle against evil - Poison, 1 Str damage - ray of clumsiness, 4 Dex damage + Extended find the gap (8/22 rounds) - energy drained, 2 levels
[FONT="Courier New"]- Improved Buckler Defense (Retain buckler's AC bonus when using that arm to attack) - Mounted Combat (Use Ride check to replace mount's AC once/round) - Power Attack (Sacrifice BAB for damage; 1:1 for one handed, 2:1 for two-handed) - Practiced Spellcaster: Cleric (Recoup three caster levels) - Servant of the Heavens (+1 luck to a saving throw 1/day; alliegiance to Celestial Hebdomad) - Divine Might (Free action + Turning attempt = Add Cha modifier to damage for one round)[/FONT]
[font="Courier New"]1) Serve the faith of Torm and your mortal masters with honor 2) Protect the innocent 3) Uphold the laws of a legitimate authority 4) Fulfill the Penance of Duty:
A) Aid other good churches in need (Debt of Persecution) B) Work against Cyric, Bane, and the Zhentarim (Debt of Derelection) C) Record areas of dead or wild magic and attempt to restore them (Debt of Destruction) D) Stand vigilant against corruption within good organizations
I could tell you a lot about myself. Some people would consider my life to be pretty exciting. I was born in 1353 DR in the city of Tantras. Maybe you've heard of it. Anyway, my childhood was pretty carefree; I played with the neighbors and ran around in the streets like everyone else did. I didn't know what it meant to worry. I didn't know what it meant to be afraid. I had my parents, and they wouldn't let anything happen to me. That's all I needed to know.
I was five years old when my idyllic childhood got turned upside down. It was the Year of Shadows, 1358 DR, and what happened to the world that year changed the course of mortal history. The gods, banished from their celestial homes, were sent to earth as mortals. Our god, Torm, had come to Toril, to my town! How excited everyone was at the time! There were celebrations in the streets for days, which the church naturally discouraged. During those times, the church actually seemed to discourage a lot of things. But when you have the the god you worship among you, who would dare to question?
It wasn't long though, that the dread tyrant Bane came to our city, seeking gods-only-know what. But praise be to Torm the True, who in our time of need, arose to do battle with the villain. I could hear him speak to us, but it as though my mind was unable to comprehend the words he spoke. I remember my parents and neighbors crying, and then they died, as they lived, fulfilling their duty to the True. The rest of that day is history; the Golden Lion dueled the Black Hand to their deaths.
The church of Torm took all of us orphans in, but for years, I resented them because they had taken away my innocent childhood. I spent ten years finding little ways to rebel against the church, like breaking curfew, swiping food, and just generally causing as much immature mayhem as I could conceive. How quickly things have changed...
One night, while dodging the authorities, I encountered an elderly gentleman being attacked in an alley by a handful of thugs, the exact number I forget. I may not have been a model citizen back then, but I was certainly no fiend about to allow an old man be attacked. I jumped some of them from behind, clubbing one them with a broken bottle in the head, and got the goons away from the couple. "Run!" I shouted out to him as I received a swift kick in the stomach. Nearly doubled over in pain, I rushed the nearest one and managed to break out of the alley and into the street.
Running into more deserted docks district, I thought I had lost them all. I was only mostly correct. One had not given up pursuit, and had nearly caught up with me. Trying to escape the lone pursuer, I ran into a ramshackle-looking building I knew to be abandoned from previous run-ins with the law. But apparently, the other guy knew about this building too, because he was lying in wait for me. As we fought, we must have shaken something loose because the building started to collapse all around us.
As we both rushed to escape the building, my opponent tripped and his legs were promptly crushed by part of the falling ceiling. Hearing the anguish in his pleas for help, I turned around. I saw that man, pitifully lying there, desperate for someone to do the right thing. In that moment, I didn't know what came over me. I rushed back and attempted to pry him loose. Unable to loosen the wood and stone debris, I began to cry out for a god to help me do justice to this young man, and in that moment, I felt stronger. Stronger than I had ever felt in my life. Stronger than I have ever felt since. I pulled that boy out of the rubble and flung him toward the door.
And it was a good thing that I did because the remainder of the ceiling collapsed on me, knocking me unconscious.
I suppose that the other boy thought I was certainly dead because I didn't shout out, so I can't really blame him for not coming to my rescue. Underneath the rubble, I had a dream. That elderly fellow I had just saved, pulled me out of the rubble.
"Young man, why did you save that ruffian?" "I...I don't know. I just sorta felt like it was the right thing to do." "That is the mark of a man who knows what needs to be done and does it, regardless of the personal consequences. You could have died, you know." "Yes, and in an ideal world, he would have done the same." "But not everyone holds that sense of responsiblity, that duty to their fellows, as highly as you do." "Guess not." "Can I show you something?" "Why not. Lead the way."
And as we cross over the threshold of the ruined building, I was instantly confronted with the pivotal event of my life: the day my parents died. I could hear the voice of the god booming above us, and the silence that constituted the public reaction. This time, though, I understood the voice of Torm. How he spoke of duty and responsibility. How he spoke of the great need to battle evil where ever it should arise. How he needed his people to help him do his duty. How it was voluntary.
I had never believed it to be voluntary. I mean, a god was a god, he could do whatever he damn well pleased, right? He was the one killing my neighbors, my family. Yet, it seemed as though the True understood his people, their desire to live, their reluctance to sacrifice the gift of life. So he taught them instead of forcing them, urged instead of commanded. And once the people had gifted Torm with their complete faith, he did his duty, even at the cost of his own life.
In a time when gods sought only to serve themselves, that one could look past his own needs to do something so beautiful for his faithul, was heartbreaking. I was reminded of a all that I had been taught to me as a young child but forgotten as I grew up: service, honor, goodness. Overwhelmed by the crushing realization that these ideals weren't taught across the land, I swore in my dream to ensure that people would see in themselves a duty to others.
When I came to, I was just outside the collapsed building. The dust still hadn't even settled. That same old man was sitting by me, watching me with intense curiousity. When I gazed at him, I saw within his eyes so many things: wisdom, goodness, honor, pain, triumph, but above all else, loyalty. This is how I know that I was called, by the visitation of the Loyal Fury in my hour of greatest need. As I regained my strength, I could feel so many questions well up to the surface, questions I didn't even know I was asking, but when I opened my mouth to speak, the avatar of the god simply shook his head and signed for me to be silent. And in an instant, I was phyiscally restored, and standing in front of the temple orphanage. I was alone in the doorway, but just as I lifted my foot, I could feel the voice of the god. "Remember well your oath," was all it said.
Following that night, I was a reformed man. I left my rebellious ways to be inducted as an acolyte in the church of Torm, swearing the fourfold Penance of Duty. They say that I have done much; helping Mystran and Azuthite trailblazers chart regions where magic had been altered or fallen silent; helping to build temples and shrines dedicated to the worship of other goodly deities; and defending against the predations of the Cyricists, the Banites, and the foul Black Network that uses the rule of law to masquerade as a civilizing force.
Simon is perpetually stoic, because of the immensity of the Penance of Duty and because of the penance he feels that he needs to undertake for his own youthful indiscretions, though Torm himself has long forgotten it. He is most eager when confronted with evil and when given the opportunity to spread the teachings of the Loyal Fury, his two major passions. Simon can be impatient at times, mostly when he feels that faster action is necessary in the face of evil or lawlessness.
Simon remembers well his days of recklessness and carousing, and because of it, he is harder on younger miscreants than others, hoping that one day, he might help someone see the error of his ways. He tends to look at things in a binary fashion, allowing very little room for grey areas. He spends much time trying to teach people the ways of Torm, but for all his personability, he still isn't very good at it because he always falters in a theological debate with someone well versed in their own theology; it hasn't quite hit him yet that he needs to temper the urge to evangelize with the ability to discern whether or not someone is willing to listen.
Simon looks very much like a typical Damarran: moderately tall, moderately built, fair GLEEMAX!GLEEMAX!GLEEMAX!GLEEMAX!, light brown hair. His eyes, though, are an interesting shade of blue, quite close to cerulean. When not wearing his plate armor (which is practically never), he always wears the priestly vestments of Torm, bearing the right gauntlet symbol of the True.
He typically looks as though he is passing judgment on something, even though this is untrue; this is a well-practiced public face that he wears when confronted with things that do not fit well into his worldview- something that happens all to often these days. In an unguarded moment, his expression sags and his countenance bears a tremendous sorrow, feeling that, somehow, everything that goes on around him is his personal responsibility.
I'm sick with the flu. It'll be a few days before I post again. I'd appreciate it if you would all wait for me to recover. If you are all impatient, just NPC me. I'd prefer not to be NPCed for the introduction though.
Jekro Male Dragonborn(mind) Deep Imaskari Egoist 5/ Anarchic Initiate 4 CG Medium Humanoid(Dragonblooded); Bahamut archerpwr
[b]Dragonborn Traits[/b] Humanoid (dragonblood): Dragonborn are humanoids with the dragonblood subtype and any other subtypes they had before undergoing the Rite of Rebirth. For all effects related to race, a dragonborn is considered a dragon and a member of her original race. +2 dodge bonus to Armor Class against creatures of the dragon type. The dragonborn have an innate sense of how best to defend themselves against their potential enemies. Immunity to Frightful Presence: Dragonborn are immune to the frightful presence ability of dragons, just as if they were dragons. Mind (Ex): A dragonborn who selects the mind aspect sharpens her senses, gaining immunity to paralysis and magic sleep effects. She gains darkvision out to 30 feet and low-light vision, plus a +2 racial bonus on Listen, Search, and Spot checks.
At 6 HD, the dragonborn's darkvision extends to 60 feet. At 9 HD, the dragonborn's darkvision extends to 90 feet, and her low-light vision allows her to see three times as far as a human in shadowy illumination.
At 12 HD, the dragonborn's darkvision extends to 120 feet, and her low-light vision allows her to see four times as far as a human in shadowy illumination.
At 15 HD, the dragonborn gains blindsense out to 30 feet.
[b]Psion Abilities[/b] -Bonus Feats -Psionics
[b]Anarchic Initiate Abilities[/b] -Chaotic Surge-When Overchanneling or Wild Surging can chaotic surge. Roll d100. 0-25-no change to the power 26-50-All variable numerical effects are reduced by 50% rounded down 51-75-All variable numerical effects are increased by 50% 76-100-Effected by maximize power Anarchic Grace-1/day as a free action for rounds per class level gain 20% miss chance that even true seeing does not bypass. At end of duration treated as enervated. -Wild Surge +1-Gain +1 ML and one free PP on a power. 5% chance to be dazed until the next turn and lose power points equal to wilder level -Clarity of confusion- +2 insight vs [law] or (compulsion)
[b]Wish List[/b] Psionic equivalent of a runestaff
________________________________________ Character DescriptionShow
Short Description Medium, 5'6" tall, 155 lbs, 103 yrs old No hair, green eyes, grey scales Experience: 36,000
Background Jekro is the son of the arch-wizard Tyrek Kelcior. Jekro is not aware of who is mother is. Jekro has a suspicion that he is the orphan son of one of Tyrek's late enemies. Because Tyrek had many enemies, but few allies, and many subordinates, Jekro was trained from an early age to trust no one and nothing. At the young age of 16 Tyrek offered Jekro to take him under his wing and personally train him in the dark arts of wizardry. Jekro eagerly accepted the offer.
All went well for about five years, when the fortress was assaulted by a group of powerful drow priestesses. How they got around the many magical barriers, Jekro had no idea, but they did. Tyrek decided to end the affair quickly by heading out and collapsing the cave on the priestesses. Unfortunately, the priestesses were but a diversion and the moment Tyrek exited his personal domain, he was brutally ambushed by orc shock troops.
The priestesses subsequently broke into the lair and destroyed or looted everything. The clones of Tyrek were quickly found and dispatched. Through luck or cunning Jekro managed to escape by using a few well stored scrolls. He had nothing, but his life. He awoke later surrounded by the deep gnomes that were known to inhabit the nearby area. As an educated fellow, Jekro spoke their language. They were willing to harbor him if he could provide the magical services he was known to have. His spellbook had been destroyed, but Jekro readily agreed to any protection he could get. He bluffed with a fake spellbook for three days and the gnomes seemed to buy it. They hadn't. At the end of the third cycle he was hit over the head, knocked out, and tied up. They demanded that he show his skill. Through great strain and panic, crystal shard manifested. The gnomes were almost as amazed as Jekro. Jekro subsequently spent roughly seventy years guarding the small tribe of gnomes and experimenting with his psychic abilities. Then, the priestesses returned.
There was an absolute slaughter and Jekro was only able to escape with a well timed ectoplasmic form. The priestesses continued to track him for months and as time grew on, Jekro grew weary and developed a deep hatred for the servants of Lolth, while at the same time a respect for their power. Eventually, he got caught between a deep dragon and the scouts. Jekro decided to turn the foes on one another. He metamorphed into the form of a youngling deep dragon and squealed for protection from the drow.
The deep dragon mother rescued Jekro, but once the battle was over he was in his normal form and out of psychic power. The dragon growled, "...and what is this?" and Jekro panicked. He told his story to the dragon. She listened and contemplated. After it ended, she said, "you need faith." Jekro grasped at the first straws of religion that was offered and converted to the platinum dragon. As a sign of his faith he underwent a transformation that would leave him unreccognizable to either friend or foe that had known him before. Jekro went on to wander about underdark growing in knowledge and power until the current day came.
Personality Jekro never trusts a newcomer at the first glance. He's been alone too long and been betrayed too many times. He does listen to the whisper of the platinum dragon, so every once in a while, without warning, he leaps into action on the faith of his lord alone. When speaking, his voice is low and deep. It reeks of the power of dragons. Jekro hates to go into something without a firm plan of action. He is always a bit uneasy when the platinum lord takes over and rushes into action. Such chaos adds up to death in the end. Jekro also has a deepseated distrust of the dark elves because of his long run from the clerics of lolth. He does respect the dark elves' power, so will always be willing to retreat against the dark elves if it means repositioning for a more favorable outcome. Sacrifices have to be made in the quest for knowledge.
Description You see a slowly lumbering form. Beneath the tattered robes you see a glimpse of well worn armor covering dull grey scales with a platinum tinge occasionally surfacing in extreme situations. The worn draconic face conceals glowing green eyes that thirst for knowledge. A dark rumbling voice with the power of dragons answers your call for aid in the destruction of evil. When the situation calls for it Jekro shows the true power of his mind and at those times he seems to glow with a faint emerald outline and his eyes show only as silver. These images are brief, so you cannot trust your eyes, but undeniable. The platinum dragon shows a bit of himself through his envoy.
When raging: +2 Dodge (26 AC, 15 touch, 22 flat-footed), +2 to Reflex Saves (+18 total) With Force Screen: +4 shield (28 AC, 13 touch, 28 flat-footed) With Rage, Force Screen: 30 AC, 15 touch, 30 flat-footed) With Empty Mind: Immediate Action, total +2 to Will Saves (+10 total)
________________________________________ Speed 40 ft. [8 squares]
Melee +14/+9 + 1 Sweeping Flail (1d8+8), 20/x2 or Melee +14/+9 w/Masterwork Cold Iron Ripper (2d6+7) 19-20/x2 or Ranged +11 w/javelin (1d6+5 20/x2)
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft. (10 ft. w/ reach weapon) Base Atk +8; Grapple +13; Trip +9; Disarm +10
[b]Grimlock Traits[/b] - + 4 Strength, +2 Dexterity, +2 Constitution, –2 Wisdom, –4 Charisma. - Monstrous Humanoid: Grimlocks are not subject to spells or effects that affect humanoids only, such as charm person or dominate person. - Immune to gaze attacks, visual effects, illusions, and other attack forms that rely on sight. - Blind. Blindsight 40ft, but beyond 40ft targets have total concealment (but see below) - Scent -- Can track foes by scent - +10 racial bonus on Hide checks when underground.
[b]Barbarian Abilities[/b] - Rage (whirling: +4 str, extra attack at -2, +2 dodge), 3/day currently 1/day - Fast Movement 40ft. - Uncanny Dodge - Spell Dodge (+1 Dodge AC vs. touch attack spells)
(As told to the bard Maer Dallindel; Erut hasn't got the knack of writing yet)
“A trick of the light.”
I have heard your people utter this phrase to describe things that are not there. It seems redundant. All light is a trick, a collective fantasy on which your kind has built empires out of vapor. It is madness, and when all is still, I fear, it is a madness to which I have succumbed.
My name, if ever I had one, is gone now. Crysetheheth the Alhoun possesses it, as he does my memory and everything that came before I awoke under his domination. Some folk believe that one’s soul is inextricably linked to their name, and perhaps I once believed so; I no longer remember. But if true, then Cyrsethheth now has that, as well, and I am damned.
I recall not how I came to be in that foul place, but certain things I do know. My people, who you call the Grimlock, dwell amid the roots of the earth, and it seems sensible that I dwelt with them. We clashed periodically with the Drow, Duergar, Derro and far darker beings, and many of us fall to their weapons or bow to their whips.
I suspect the latter was my fate, for my first memory is awakening a captive in what appeared to be a nearly barren cavern. A waterfall's torrent sounded loudly nearby, confusing my senses such that I blundered into walls, which seemed to shift and move as I searched for a way out. There seemed to be none.
I was not alone. There too in the cavern was a humanoid figure, who resembled a dwarf but did not smell like one. He informed me that we were both prisoners of Crysetheheth, and that likely as not I would die here as a subject of his research.
I believed him; a cursory search of the cave found it littered with dried-out corpses of every race. One body, once a human by the sense of it, had died by thrusting itself on a dagger.
On its finger I found a ring of bronze, and my cellmate, called Sirat, bade me put it on, saying it would keep me from starving. Crysetheheth, he added, had many experiments, and could be a while in coming.
It took more than a while -- I lost track of the wait. My companion, plainly insane, seemed to take no notice, and spent his hours laughing at the walls and the din. He laughed when I told him I could not recall my name, and called me Erut, which means the unwanted dust left behind after a rock is smashed apart by hammers. After a time he lengthened this to “Erut the Forgotten,” to ensure I got the message.
When Crysetheheth arrived — I assume he was Crysetheheth, he never spoke — a palpable chill came into the cave. From Sirat’s ravings I assumed my captor to be a Flayer, and I could feel the creeping of the mind that comes when flayers are about, like worms in your head. But he was too old, far too old; he smelled like death, and his skin crackled as he moved.
What followed I will not speak of.
This went on, it seemed, forever; Crysetheheth would arrive periodically and begin his experiments, and each time I prayed death would take me. I considered removing the ring, but was unable to. I was even unable to end my own life, as previous captives had done.
I cannot say when everything changed, but it did. While awaiting Crysetheheth, tossing stones into the din of the waterfall, I heard an unfamiliar voice speak to me.
The dwarf lies to you, the voice said. There is a way out.
Startled, I first thought it was merely the ramblings of my deranged companion. But he slept, and as the voice continued, I realized its source was not sound, but thought; it was coming from a crystalline stone I was holding. I despaired — at last I was going mad, as well.
The stone voice reassured me it was no delusion, but do not all madmen’s inner demons do so? Moreover, it claimed to be able to see an exit beyond the waterfall.
If the voice in my head was dementia, the concept of a seeing rock was sheer lunacy, and I tried to ignore the stone’s protests. But it stubbornly persisted. And, truth be told, I began to grow accustomed to the thing — madness or not, it was a change to have another cellmate.
Eventually I decided to test the voice’s claim. Even if it was false, perhaps I could drown myself.
I clambered up to the waterfall and, clinging to the rocks, edged my way into the deluge.
The torrent was immense, but my grip was strong and I ventured through — and nearly gasped in astonishment. I still could hear nothing over the noise of the falls, but the air was different here, thick with the smell of flayer slime and ichor. There was an exit.
Bewildered, I returned to my prison and turned on my dwarven cellmate — surely he had known of this. He simply cackled and said he would miss my company. Crysetheheth relished the brains of the freshly talented, he said, and now I would surely die.
Enraged, I knocked him aside and, seizing an axe left by a previous victim, I barged once again through the waterfall. I peered into the chamber beyond, and sensed a Flayer — a true Flayer, not one like Crysetheheth. Realizing a chance for, if not escape, then at least a quick death, I rushed headlong at the thing.
And the gods, who forsook me for so long, must have at last been with me. Caught by surprise, the Flayer scarcely had time to turn before my axe bit into it. It crumpled as I struck again and again, unleashing my fury on its limp form.
When my rage passed, gasping, I quickly gathered what equipment I could find nearby and fled into the tunnels. I had no wish to meet Crysetheheth again.
I knew not where to run, but again the Gods were with me. I came upon a caravan guarded by Jama Stonewalker, whom you well know. He took pity on my condition, indeed, he was fascinated by it, and allowed me to accompany them. Jama felt my skills would lend themselves to a similar occupation, and directed me to a trading outpost, where I found a measure of safety and a life as a guardian of trade caravans to and from the surface. My accursed "talent," as Sirat called it, continued to develop, though I cannot help but fear it.
Erut — he’s kept the name, as it’s all he’s got — takes pains not to appear in his regular form among strangers if he can help it. He’s a bit self-conscious about his appearance, and he’s also still fearful that Crysetheheth will find him. He uses the Hat of Disguise (with coaching from a Svirfneblin) to resemble a more standard humanoid, though since he can’t see the illusion himself the details aren’t very good. He realizes this, and so generally chooses an easy-to-render image — a bald, dark-eyed, cloaked figure with most of its face obscured.
His demeanor is pretty gloomy, and can you blame him? But he’s found some solace in religion after meeting a priest of Ilmater some time back — his faith doesn’t exactly make him feel better about life, but he figures it’s good to know that’s how it’s supposed to be.
Of his Psionic powers, he's conflicted. They're helpful in a fight and his crystal’s abilities have proven crucial, especially outdoors. But he's uncomfortable using them except at need; he thinks they may draw unwanted attention.
Worse, far worse, is the nagging feeling that none of this is real -- not his "vision," not his escape, not this life he prays he has. At his most despairing moments, he fears he has gone mad, and is in fact still trapped in Crysetheheth's prison.
He tries not to think about that too much. And is grateful, very grateful, to Jama and his rescuers. He credits them for helping discourage pursuit from his captors, and he pledged a hunt-bond to Jama — a link typically forged only with other Grimlocks, but he doesn’t really know any.
That bond is what brought him out from below. He received a missive from Jama, informing him of the party’s fortunes and asking him to journey to Shadow’s Edge.
________________________________________ AC: 23, Touch 15, Flat 21 [10 Base, +2 Dex, +8 Armor, +3 ring] AC Factors armor may not be up, essentia in ring may change, other soul melds may apply – typically 10-20% concealment vs. attacks >5', -2 with punishing stance Uncanny Dodge hp /81 (9 HD) Fort +13 (8 base), Ref +6 (2 base), Will +5 (5 base); ________________________________________ Speed 30ft. [6 squares]
Melee +12/+7 Keen Great Falchion +1, 1d12+7 15-20/x2 [Strike: +7 Bab, +4 Str, +1 item. Damage: +6 Str, +1 item Note: Typically +3d6 Electrical on 1 strike/rd (1st strike in full round attack is default), +1d6 Punishing stance Soul melds and incarnum radiance may apply Default power attack is -2 on hit for +6 damage (armbands of might x 2 handed weapon). This -2 is default combat mode unless otherwise stated. Ruby Nightmare Blade is typical Maneuver incorporated in combat along with Lightning Recovery
+11/+6 Cold Iron mace 1d8+4 x2
Ranged +09 Heavy Crossbow 1d10 19-20/x2 120' range +10 MW Javelins 1d6+4 x2 30' range
Racial and Class Abilities Human: +1 skill point/level Bonuse 1st level feat
Warblade -- Battle clarity (Reflex saves) Int bonus to reflex saves -- weapon aptitude -- Uncanny Dodge -- Battle ardor (critical confirmation) -- Warblade Bonus feat (Blind-Fight) Maneuvers and Stances : 6 : 4: 2 -- Maneuvers Known: Diamond Mind – Moment of Perfect Mind; Emerald Razor; Ruby Nightmare Blade Iron Heart – Iron Heart Surge (replaces Sudden Leap at 4th), Lightning Recovery [sup]feat[/sup] Tiger Claw –[s] Sudden Leap White Raven - Leading the Attack; White Raven Tactics -- Stances: Hunter’s Sense (Tiger Claw) [sup]feat[/sup]; Roots of the Mountain (Stone Dragon); Punishing Stance (Iron Heart)
Typical default prepared and active on a day to day basis of 4 readied Warblade Maneuvers and 1 Stance – Wbl Maneuvers: Lightning Recovery; Ruby Nightmare Blade; Iron Heart Surge; White Raven Tactics Stance: Hunter’s Sense [sup][Scent ability][/sup]
Incarnate: -- Aura (4th level law) -- detect opposition: detect chaos at will -- Chakra bind (crown) -- Expanded souldmeld capacity +1, incarnum radiance 1xday (+1 melee strikes) -- Chakra bind (feet, hands) Soulmelds: 4 Meldshaping Essentia: 7 [4 class, 1 racial, 2 feat] Chakra Binds: 1 Typcial Daily Default Soulmelds and Essentia,: Lightning Gauntlets : – bound to hand chakra – 1d6 electric damage/essentia point Vitality Belt : +4 moral bonus to constitution based skills and saves (not Fort), 1 hitpoint/essentia/meldshaper level Fellmist Robe : 10% concealment vs. >5' away attacks: +5%/essentia Diadem of Pure Light : 20’ bright light + 20’shadowy light: +10’/essentia (covered) (typically replaced with Planar Avatar soulmeld +1/essentia on melee attacks) Default Essentia: 3 in gauntlets, 2 in ring, 2 in robe
[b]Equipment Carried Tunic of Steady Casting 2,500 +1 Keen Great Flachion 8,395 Amulet of Health +2 4,000 Lesser Ring of Soul Bound Protection [sup]MoI Pg 112[/sup] 5,000 Belt of Healing 750 Crystal Mask of Languages: Elf (Drow), Drow Sign Language, Abyssal, Undercommon, Kuo-Toan 2,500gps Cloak of Resistance +1 1,000gps Skin of Ectoplasmic Armor Body (1lb, 3,000gps)[sup]Com Psi[/sup] Armbands of Might 4,100 4 x Force Screen Tattoos ML:1 200gps [s]43 x Enlargement Tattoos ML:1 200gps 1 x Animal Affinity Tattoos ML:1 300gps 2 x Entangling Ectoplasm Tattoos ML:1 100gps 2 x Elf Sight Tattoos ML:1 100gps 1 x Skate Tattoo 50gps 1 x Potion of Invisibility 300gps 1 x potion of Fly 300gps 2 x potions of Protection from Evil 100gps 2 x potions of Darkvision 600gps 4 x Cure Light Wounds 200 gps 1 x Shard of Concentration +3 190gps 1 x Weapon Alchemical Capsule 100gps [sup]Com Advn[/sup] 1 x Cold Capsule 20gps 1 x Fire Capsule 20gps Heward’s Handy Haversack [2.5 lbs][2,000 gp] Heward’s Handy Haversack, (120lb capacity)Show
Bedroll (1.25lb, 1sp) Blanket, Winter (0.75lb, 5sp) Flint & Steel (1gp) (3) Candles (3cp) (3) Chalk (3cp) (1) Empty Flask (1 lb, 3cp) (1) Masterwork Manacles (2 lb, 50gp) (10) Paper sheet (4 gp) (2) Ink (16 gp) (1) Inkpen (1 sp) 100' Hemp Rope (2gp, 10 lb) 1 Heavy crossbow (50gp 8lb) 20 Heavy crossbow bolts (2gp 2lb) 1 Cold Iron Heavy Mace (112gp 8lb) Caltrops x3 (3gp 6lb) Sunrod x 20 40gp 6lb Smokestick 20gp 1/2lb Tindertwigs x3 3gps Oil flask x 4 4sp 4lb Listening Cone 20gp 1lb [sup]Com Adv[/sup] Thieves tools MW 100gp 2lb Flash Pellet x2 100pg [sup]Com Adv[/sup] Lantern, bullseye (12gps, 3lb) 1 x Catsink [sup]Com Adv[/sup] Oiled waterproof skin (can work as a cape/poncho or cover over bedroll) 1gp 2lb Chalk powder 2sp 2lb (4 x .5lb bags for tossing in air over invisible creatures) Current Weight in Haversack: 76.5lb
Custom Explorer's Outfit/Glamor weave Robes Worn (130gp) Silver dagger Right hip (1lb , 22 gp) Cold Iron Holy Symbol of Najm the Adventerous Neck, tucked under shirt (0.25lb , 10 gp) Money: gp sp cp
Appearance Farif has two general forms of appearance. One official and the other incognito – the latter not so much as a disguise but simple down dressing with a dark over cloak and thick felt cap. The occasional incarmum soft blue glow to his brown eyes is inevitable but in the world of many wonders there are few who recognize the significance. When in uniform he shows his Marmaluke tattooed face with pride underneath the turban wrapped pointed helm of his people, the massive great falchion strapped to his back. Olive complexion, clean shaven, dark brown haired and of an unobtrusively muscular build, Farif without his soul melds would never stand out in the crowded streets of Huzuz. He does usually have at least his fellmist cloak swirled grey clouds around him, and should he have the planar avatar meld on the dim outerworld form around him is obvious to all.
Background Farif is one of the Fate Touched of the southern lands, now sworn to the service of Al Qadim as a Mameluke slave of the state. Raised to serve the Enlightened peoples of the Burning World Farif is both proud and conscientious of his duty. Life is honor and, as with many Mamelukes, Farif respects and reciprocates his station in society. Devoutly Enlightened Farif has a special appreciation of Najm the Adventurous whose patronage he seeks in his long missions amongst the northern barbarians. It had fallen to be his lot to make the trip across the storm racked seas, past the Yakman harboring mountains to visit the Great Rift and the surrounding lands. And now duty has called again.
Personality Farif is polite as all Enlightened, pleasant and of quite easy going manner, he has long since found amongst the barbarians it is best to just go with the flow. If he has a fault it is in his occasional oblivious unwise inferences of his own Enlightened superiority and slave status. But for those who know him and recognize his genuine strength of character and purpose this is easily overlooked, his foibles simply bringing a wry smile amongst the golden dwarves who had learned to value him as a comrade in arms.
Farif is built to swat with White Raven tactics to held group stuff and incarnate abilities to act as a flexible secondary skill set at need. If you're not familiar with soul melds they are basically ability/skill sets that can be changed on a daily basis. Farif's not so optimized defensively, saves are a bit weak and no particular defensive abilities.
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft. (10 ft. w/ reach weapon) Base Atk +10; Grapple +12; Trip +2 (attempt)/+4 (defend); Disarm +4
Atk Options Skirmish +1d6/+1 AC, Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Rapid Shot, Favored Enemy (+2 vs Giants, +2 vs Evil, +2 vs Drow), Distracting Attack, Underground Mastery Special Actions Scent of Evil, Favored of the Companions Combat Gear Wand of Cure Light Wounds (44/50) ________________________________________
[b]Abilities[/b] Str 14 [+2] ...14 base Dex 18 [+4] ...14 base (+2 level +2 enhancement) Con 14 [+2] ...14 base Int 16 [+3] ...14 base ( +2 enhancement) Wis 12 [+1] ...12 base Cha 12 [+1] ...12 base
[font="Courier New"] Feats - Nymph's Kiss - +2 to CHA checks, +1 to saves vs. spells, +1 skill point/level - Alertness - +2 to Listen and Spot checks - Favored of the Companions - +1 to saves 1/day - Point Blank Shot - +1 to hit, damage to enemies within 30 ft - Endurance - sleep in Light, Medium armor w/o being fatigued, etc. - Precise Shot - ignore the -4 penalty to attack vs opponents in melee
Human Traits - Bonus Feat - +1 skill point / level, +4 skill points @ 1st level
Scout Abilities - Trapfinding - Use Search checks to find traps and Disable Device to disarm them - Skirmish +1d6/+1 AC - Battle Fortitude - +1 to Fortitude saves and initiative - Uncanny Dodge - retain DEX to AC even if surprised and vs invisible foes - Fast Movement - +10ft base land speed, restricted to light armor/light load - Trackless Step - cannot be tracked in natural surroundings
Ranger Abilities - Favored Enemy - +2 vs Giants, +2 vs Drow - Combat Style - Gain Rapid Shot when in light armor - Wild Empathy - 1d20+Ranger level+CHA mod to affect animals' moods - Distracting Attack - enemy hit by attack is considered flanked until my next attack
Stalker of Kharash Abilities - Scent of Evil - Detect Evil with sense of smell - Favored Enemy - +2 vs Evil
[b]Wish List[/b] Rod of Rope, Amulet of Natural Armor + Health, Ring of Protection, additional +'s to weapons, Panic Buttons
________________________________________ Character DescriptionShow
Short Description Sizecategory, ??'??" tall, ?? lbs, ?? yrs old Colortype hair, colortype eyes, tonetype skin Experience
Speaks Common, Chondathan, Elven (Moon), Elven (Drow), Drow Sign Language
Background A simple and humble militiaman from Deepingdale, Alton was a valued member of the local militia for his scouting abilities and his aim. Having taken leave from the militia, he spent time exploring the Cormanthor forest where he met up with rangers in the service of Shaundakul, trying to reclaim Myth Drannor. He learned much from the Knights of the Shadow Sword (a grandiose name, but that's what they called themselves), fighting all manner of evils in the service of the Helping Hand. Many times has he lead the charge deep into the bowels of tainted dungeons, always in silence - striking quickly and surely.
Description Alton prefers to focus on the task at hand, and does so in grim silence. He actually likes to talk when silence is not required, but all too often it is. He wears a thick gray cloak that is heavily worn, but is obviously well made. The cloak has a deep hood that conceals his features quite well. His face is hardened by years of combat and displays very little emotion. His brown hair is kept out of his eyes with a simple headband. Always on the move, Alton typically has a few days of facial hair, although he shaves when he gets the chance.
Game Notes Suffered severe damage to right leg. -2 to Balance, Climb, Jump, Move Silently, Ride, Swim, Tumble, Reflex saves, misc DEX checks