—Name: Lawrence, Son of Logos —Race:Human —Gender: Male
—Class: Witch —Height: 5'8” —Eyes: Grey —Hair: Blonde
Str:10
Dex:14
Con:12
Int:20
Wis:14
Cha:12
Skills:
Knowledge
Spellcraft
Use Magic Device
Sense Motive
The fire crackled in the early morning and Ignish, my red-tailed raven, stood on the ground warming his feathers. Challa laid in her bedroll on the other side of the fire and slept eerily quiet. I looked down at him and spoke in the pops, hisses, and low groans which make the Ignan language of fire elementals.
“Challa is dangerous Ignish. I know she sought us to cover her back on these adventures, but I can’t help being unsettled. Orcs aren’t supposed to be that smart.”
Ignish turned his head toward me and stared.
“The way she handles things, it’s a threat. We gave her a ten second head-start on the cave and she killed an Ogre. What’s more, she did it without a scratch. That’s not just strength, she’s smart. Smart enough to have learned magic I bet. Our magic is great, but how can we be certain she won’t turn on us? Perhaps we should handle her first.”
Ignish stared at me and responded in the same pops and hisses, “Well that’s just stupid.”
“What?”
“Killing Challa. Stupid. Her axe is like an extension of her body. She’s not some berserker who mutilates the dead for trophies, that girl has been trained by a master axeman. Yes she’s smart, and that’s just fine. Smart allies are worth more because they’re less likely to be swayed by greed or clever words. Of all the stupid things I’ve heard from you this is one of the worst.”
“Ouch. I’m plenty smart you know. I’m just concerned for our mostly squishy hides. I’d rather not get an axe in the back when she decides she wants to keep our share of the loot.”
“Oh yeah, you’re a real genius.” I swear his beak literally dripped with sarcasm.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re learning magic from a bird.”
“A bird who speaks Ignan.”
“Alright, an exceptionally smart bird who know magic spells, but still you are being mentored by a being who’s greatest weakness is something shiny.”
“You never fail to insult yourself as much as you do me Ignish.”
“That’s what makes us a good team Larry.”
“Lawrence.”
“I’ll call you what I want, apprentice.”
“Sure thing Iggy.”
“I will teach you a spell to make your head implode and tell you it creates a protective shield.” Ravens aren’t supposed to be able to give death-glares, but Ignish was giving a remarkable attempt.
“Then who’d you teach magic to?”
“You said the orc was smart.”
My jaw dropped. I don’t think I’ll ever call him Iggy again, but then again we’ve gone at it like this since we first met and he started to teach me.
Challa shifted her shoulders inside her bedroll, “Stop talking to the fire Larry, it’s starting to sound annoyed.”
Ignish gave a peel of caws that sounded all to similar to laughter, and I once again found my mouth agape. “Sorry Challa, I thought you were sleeping.”
“Not with you talking all morning to the campfire. Weird language.”
“I’ll try to be quieter, also I prefer to be called Lawrence.”
“That’s nice, I’d prefer to be asleep, but I guess we can’t always have what we want Larry.”
Ignish laughed again. I’m telling you, some times I feel like I get no respect.
Showing posts with label Character profile. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Character profile. Show all posts
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Character Profile - Challa Axeborne
—Name: Challa Axeborne —Race:Half-Orc —Gender: Female
—Class: Fighter —Height: 5'11” —Eyes: Brown —Hair: Black
Str:20
Dex:14
Con:14
Int:16
Wis:14
Cha:10
Skills:
Swim
Sense Motive
Knowledge
Perception
Intimidate
An Ogre stands roughly 12 feet tall, which gives it an arm length of approximately four-and-a-half feet; The tree trunk he’s swinging looks to be around 8 feet long, and is probably adding another 7 feet to his reach. The amount of force he can carry in a single downward blow could shatter the bones of most men even with armor; suggested strategy: Don’t let him hit me.
I circled the creature, rolled my shoulders in loose circles as gripped my axe, and waited for him to swing. When the tree came down I spun to my left, feeling the wind and smelling the freshly up-rooted soil as it missed by inches, and took off circling to his right immediately. He lifted the trunk and began to sweep to his left to catch me as I ran behind him. He’s big, but not terribly bright.
I jump and kick off the trunk as it comes around to me, rotating my weight in a mid-air roll and coming down with the axe into the side of his neck as I soar past. 11 feet is plenty of space to place my strike as I reached him. The axe lodged into his spine and the blade rotated as my weight pulled, drawing the gash even wider and spraying the dark, thick blood around the darkened cave. I stumbled as I landed, his body shaking the ground a moment after my boots touched down. “And down you go.”
A light appeared at the entrance to the cavern and Lawrence surveyed the wreckage that the ogre had become in the dark.
“Thirteen gods Challa, you sure know how to make a mess.”
“Larry! What took you so long? You missed out on all the fun.” I took the brown sash from around my waste and added the Ogre’s blood to it as I wiped my axe clean. Overall, this was just another day, and I love being an adventurer.
—Class: Fighter —Height: 5'11” —Eyes: Brown —Hair: Black
Str:20
Dex:14
Con:14
Int:16
Wis:14
Cha:10
Skills:
Swim
Sense Motive
Knowledge
Perception
Intimidate
An Ogre stands roughly 12 feet tall, which gives it an arm length of approximately four-and-a-half feet; The tree trunk he’s swinging looks to be around 8 feet long, and is probably adding another 7 feet to his reach. The amount of force he can carry in a single downward blow could shatter the bones of most men even with armor; suggested strategy: Don’t let him hit me.
I circled the creature, rolled my shoulders in loose circles as gripped my axe, and waited for him to swing. When the tree came down I spun to my left, feeling the wind and smelling the freshly up-rooted soil as it missed by inches, and took off circling to his right immediately. He lifted the trunk and began to sweep to his left to catch me as I ran behind him. He’s big, but not terribly bright.
I jump and kick off the trunk as it comes around to me, rotating my weight in a mid-air roll and coming down with the axe into the side of his neck as I soar past. 11 feet is plenty of space to place my strike as I reached him. The axe lodged into his spine and the blade rotated as my weight pulled, drawing the gash even wider and spraying the dark, thick blood around the darkened cave. I stumbled as I landed, his body shaking the ground a moment after my boots touched down. “And down you go.”
A light appeared at the entrance to the cavern and Lawrence surveyed the wreckage that the ogre had become in the dark.
“Thirteen gods Challa, you sure know how to make a mess.”
“Larry! What took you so long? You missed out on all the fun.” I took the brown sash from around my waste and added the Ogre’s blood to it as I wiped my axe clean. Overall, this was just another day, and I love being an adventurer.
Character Profile - Roscoe Redbottle
—Name: Roscoe Redbottle —Race:Halfling —Gender: Male
—Class: Rogue —Height: 3'4” —Eyes: Blue —Hair: Brown
Str:10
Dex:20
Con:12
Int:14
Wis:14
Cha:14
Skills:
Bluff
Acrobatics
Linguistics
Disable Device
Escape Artist
Handle Animal
Sleight of Hand
Climb
Stealth
Use Magic Device
“I don’t know what he was thinking Phillip, this is a piece of cake.”
Phillip just stared blankly at me.
“Oh don’t give me that lip. I let you carry all sorts of magic, so don’t act like this is less than the perfect situation for us. We are not having this argument again.”
Phillip continued to stare; I turned away and slid the second hook into the lock. The familiar click of the tumbler fell resounded through my perfectly pointed ears.
“See Phillip, piece of cake. Now hand me the last hook and the jewels are ours.”
Phillip blinked, climbed up my bandoleer and pulled another hook from my belt with his teeth. He then climbed back down and passed the hook to my hand.
“What a good rat you are Phillip. See we’re lucky to have each other. Dad wanted me to be a wizard. ‘Follow in the family,’ he said. Please.” I took the hook and scratched behind his right ear.
“This thief work is good for us. It pays just as well, nowhere near as much schooling, and look at you. You could have been stuck as a familiar, a lackey to my wizardly whims, but no, I thought more of you than that. Now you’re my partner buddy.”
Phillip just stared at me. He does that, but it’s not like I expect him to talk. I already knew what he meant.
“Sure, the classmates would have been fun, but we’ll make new friends. Just you watch, with our new little ‘trust fund’ we can afford to go see the world and have adventures.” The last tumbler snapped into place and the lock clicked open. I began to open the box with my perfectly agile hands, but my keen eyes saw the edge of the rune.
“whoah, that was close. Okay, time for some of that magic you love Phillip.” He just stared out of his beady eyes at me. “Pass me the solvent, pouch three, garlic cork.”
Phillip scurried back up to my belt. My head was starting to get a bit of a rush from hanging like this, but my legs weren’t even tired. That’s the amazing halfling strength for you. I’d used different oils and herbs to scent the bottles since Phillip is color blind, and sure enough he brought me the arcane solvent. I run a couple drops down one of my lock hooks and it sizzles across the alarm rune.
“Fantastic,” I slide the box open and see the four gems delicately laid on the red plush interior of the lock box. I delicately draw each gem out of the box, handing them off to Phillip, “put them in pouch one Phillip.” Sure enough he carries each one into my bottom-fed pouch, which I’d set up for just such a situation. I’m such a genius.
I pulled my body upright and swayed on the rope for a moment, “What a rush. C’mon Phillip.” He climbed up onto my right shoulder and I climbed back up the rope. Once I reached the roof I untied the rope from my ankle and gathered it back up and into my pack. By the time they discovered the theft I’d be long gone.
“Let’s go Phillip, now our adventures can really begin!”
—Class: Rogue —Height: 3'4” —Eyes: Blue —Hair: Brown
Str:10
Dex:20
Con:12
Int:14
Wis:14
Cha:14
Skills:
Bluff
Acrobatics
Linguistics
Disable Device
Escape Artist
Handle Animal
Sleight of Hand
Climb
Stealth
Use Magic Device
“I don’t know what he was thinking Phillip, this is a piece of cake.”
Phillip just stared blankly at me.
“Oh don’t give me that lip. I let you carry all sorts of magic, so don’t act like this is less than the perfect situation for us. We are not having this argument again.”
Phillip continued to stare; I turned away and slid the second hook into the lock. The familiar click of the tumbler fell resounded through my perfectly pointed ears.
“See Phillip, piece of cake. Now hand me the last hook and the jewels are ours.”
Phillip blinked, climbed up my bandoleer and pulled another hook from my belt with his teeth. He then climbed back down and passed the hook to my hand.
“What a good rat you are Phillip. See we’re lucky to have each other. Dad wanted me to be a wizard. ‘Follow in the family,’ he said. Please.” I took the hook and scratched behind his right ear.
“This thief work is good for us. It pays just as well, nowhere near as much schooling, and look at you. You could have been stuck as a familiar, a lackey to my wizardly whims, but no, I thought more of you than that. Now you’re my partner buddy.”
Phillip just stared at me. He does that, but it’s not like I expect him to talk. I already knew what he meant.
“Sure, the classmates would have been fun, but we’ll make new friends. Just you watch, with our new little ‘trust fund’ we can afford to go see the world and have adventures.” The last tumbler snapped into place and the lock clicked open. I began to open the box with my perfectly agile hands, but my keen eyes saw the edge of the rune.
“whoah, that was close. Okay, time for some of that magic you love Phillip.” He just stared out of his beady eyes at me. “Pass me the solvent, pouch three, garlic cork.”
Phillip scurried back up to my belt. My head was starting to get a bit of a rush from hanging like this, but my legs weren’t even tired. That’s the amazing halfling strength for you. I’d used different oils and herbs to scent the bottles since Phillip is color blind, and sure enough he brought me the arcane solvent. I run a couple drops down one of my lock hooks and it sizzles across the alarm rune.
“Fantastic,” I slide the box open and see the four gems delicately laid on the red plush interior of the lock box. I delicately draw each gem out of the box, handing them off to Phillip, “put them in pouch one Phillip.” Sure enough he carries each one into my bottom-fed pouch, which I’d set up for just such a situation. I’m such a genius.
I pulled my body upright and swayed on the rope for a moment, “What a rush. C’mon Phillip.” He climbed up onto my right shoulder and I climbed back up the rope. Once I reached the roof I untied the rope from my ankle and gathered it back up and into my pack. By the time they discovered the theft I’d be long gone.
“Let’s go Phillip, now our adventures can really begin!”
Character Profile - Brenalor Heavyhammer
—Name: Brenalor Heavyhammer —Race:Dwarven —Gender: Male
—Class: Oracle —Height: 4'4” —Eyes: Brown —Hair: Black
Str:16
Dex:10
Con:16
Int:12
Wis:18
Cha:14
Skills:
Diplomacy
Sense Motive
Knowledge
Heal
“You have disgraced the Heavyhammer name, you Thorgarim-damned fool. Sparing the lives of those things could endanger our people!”
He’d been yelling at me about this for quite awhile; I knelt there with my hands in shackles, the chain between them running through a bolt to the floor. The king-priest had taken my armor, my hammer, and my precious rope. Now he stood over me. My left hip throbbed.
“Please sire, you do not understand. Those things were humans, and they were peaceful! They could be our allies if we didn’t kill every one of them who come to our lands. I ask mercy sire.”
“You do not decide who receives mercy and who does not; Thorgarim’s beard you do not respect the boundaries set before you!” He bellowed, “I should have you killed in the great hall for all our people to see, then perhaps they could learn from you Thorgarim-cursed fate.”
My blood boiled, “You need to stop that sire, Thorgarim does not appreciate his name used in curses. Beware crossing the boundaries set before you.”
The king-priest back-handed me across my jaw with his gauntlet made from adamantine, the blessed metal of our god, and I collapsed onto my side. I felt the power swelling in my chest. “You insignificant traitor-blooded wretch! You dare challenge me on what Throgarim commands?! I am his mouth, I am his eyes! I will have your Thorgarim-begotten beard shaved, and execute you before all our people with your own hammer!”
My own hammer. There is no greater dishonor than to be killed with your own weapon to my people, but this is not how Thorgarim works. He is a god of community, of strength, and of protection. I feel as his will overwhelms my own, like my blood is on fire. I feel my strength surge and the chain shatters as I tear my hands free from the bolt in the floor.
“You were his mouth, you were his eyes! I am his hand!” I get to my feet, but not smoothly. My left hip still throbs as it has since Thorgarim touched it. “I will leave your people and you shall enter a time of darkness. You have cursed by Thorgarim’s name and so you have lost his blessing! You do not deserve to wear his metal.” I placed my palm against his chest in a thrust, his eyes still wide at my freedom and words, and the Adamantine breastplate folded off of his body, buckles and clasps snapping, and wrapped my forearm. I reached out my other hand and my hammer launched across the room and into my grip.
“Good bye king.”
“How dare you?! You cannot stand before me!”
“No, it is you who should not stand.” I pointed my Adamantine wrapped fist at him and clenched it tight. The armor plates around his knees crunched inward and he screamed in agony. I turned to walk out of his chamber, “Good bye father.”
I left the Dwarven kingdom, and have never returned.
—Class: Oracle —Height: 4'4” —Eyes: Brown —Hair: Black
Str:16
Dex:10
Con:16
Int:12
Wis:18
Cha:14
Skills:
Diplomacy
Sense Motive
Knowledge
Heal
“You have disgraced the Heavyhammer name, you Thorgarim-damned fool. Sparing the lives of those things could endanger our people!”
He’d been yelling at me about this for quite awhile; I knelt there with my hands in shackles, the chain between them running through a bolt to the floor. The king-priest had taken my armor, my hammer, and my precious rope. Now he stood over me. My left hip throbbed.
“Please sire, you do not understand. Those things were humans, and they were peaceful! They could be our allies if we didn’t kill every one of them who come to our lands. I ask mercy sire.”
“You do not decide who receives mercy and who does not; Thorgarim’s beard you do not respect the boundaries set before you!” He bellowed, “I should have you killed in the great hall for all our people to see, then perhaps they could learn from you Thorgarim-cursed fate.”
My blood boiled, “You need to stop that sire, Thorgarim does not appreciate his name used in curses. Beware crossing the boundaries set before you.”
The king-priest back-handed me across my jaw with his gauntlet made from adamantine, the blessed metal of our god, and I collapsed onto my side. I felt the power swelling in my chest. “You insignificant traitor-blooded wretch! You dare challenge me on what Throgarim commands?! I am his mouth, I am his eyes! I will have your Thorgarim-begotten beard shaved, and execute you before all our people with your own hammer!”
My own hammer. There is no greater dishonor than to be killed with your own weapon to my people, but this is not how Thorgarim works. He is a god of community, of strength, and of protection. I feel as his will overwhelms my own, like my blood is on fire. I feel my strength surge and the chain shatters as I tear my hands free from the bolt in the floor.
“You were his mouth, you were his eyes! I am his hand!” I get to my feet, but not smoothly. My left hip still throbs as it has since Thorgarim touched it. “I will leave your people and you shall enter a time of darkness. You have cursed by Thorgarim’s name and so you have lost his blessing! You do not deserve to wear his metal.” I placed my palm against his chest in a thrust, his eyes still wide at my freedom and words, and the Adamantine breastplate folded off of his body, buckles and clasps snapping, and wrapped my forearm. I reached out my other hand and my hammer launched across the room and into my grip.
“Good bye king.”
“How dare you?! You cannot stand before me!”
“No, it is you who should not stand.” I pointed my Adamantine wrapped fist at him and clenched it tight. The armor plates around his knees crunched inward and he screamed in agony. I turned to walk out of his chamber, “Good bye father.”
I left the Dwarven kingdom, and have never returned.
Character Profile - Sam Fletcher
—Name: Samantha Merilynn Fletcher —Race:Half-Elven —Gender: Female
—Class: Ranger —Height: 5'6" —Eyes: Brown —Hair: Auburn
Str:14
Dex:19
Con:12
Int:12
Wis:16
Cha:10
Skills:
Knowledge
Climb
Survival
Sense Motive
Perception
Craft (Boyer)
Thirteen gods you all stink. I’m going to wipe my blade off on your shirt, but I can’t see how you’d complain. I wipe my knife off on his shirt and sure enough, no protest. I stand and look around me as I slide the blade back into it’s sheath. Two orcs dead thirty paces north, an arrow in one’s chest and another in the other’s eye. Three more dead, surrounding me. One with an arrow in the throat, the other two with numerous slash wounds. I double-checked myself for wounds; nothing threatening, but a good sized cut in my armor. Damn, I’ll need to see a leather worker in the next town.
I began uphill toward the two fallen to see if I could retrieve the arrows. No reason to waste them. My father was a fletcher, and I learned the trade from watching him. My step-mother had always wanted me to be a lady.
I pulled the arrow out of his eye socket and examined the head, yeah I’m really not much of a lady. I wiped the arrow off on my trousers and slid it back into the quiver. The one in the orc’s chest was a lost cause snagged on his ribs.
I took a moment to admire my handiwork, before rifling through their pouches and gear for anything I could use. Orcs are a blight on the forest, but there’s no standing bounty on their ears. Some shoddy arrows, a few coins, a hefty axe, and a string of ears. Trophies I guess, no markings to dictate them as bounty rewards. Three humans, a dwarf, and a halfling.
Can’t help but think of Tobin, little Tobin who gave me my first bow. Tobin who came back to my fathers shop for short arrows ever two months, who when he found that Samuel, my father, had broken the bow he gave me taught me how to make one so that I wouldn’t ever be without a bow. It can’t be his ear, it has no piercings and Tobin wore three silver rings in each ear.
“Well that’s enough nostalgia. I’ve got a bugbear cave to find.” Great, I’m talking to myself. Yeah, that’s healthy. I decide to keep the axe with me head back to the trail I’d been following before this ambush became a nice, neat little pay bonus
—Class: Ranger —Height: 5'6" —Eyes: Brown —Hair: Auburn
Str:14
Dex:19
Con:12
Int:12
Wis:16
Cha:10
Skills:
Knowledge
Climb
Survival
Sense Motive
Perception
Craft (Boyer)
Thirteen gods you all stink. I’m going to wipe my blade off on your shirt, but I can’t see how you’d complain. I wipe my knife off on his shirt and sure enough, no protest. I stand and look around me as I slide the blade back into it’s sheath. Two orcs dead thirty paces north, an arrow in one’s chest and another in the other’s eye. Three more dead, surrounding me. One with an arrow in the throat, the other two with numerous slash wounds. I double-checked myself for wounds; nothing threatening, but a good sized cut in my armor. Damn, I’ll need to see a leather worker in the next town.
I began uphill toward the two fallen to see if I could retrieve the arrows. No reason to waste them. My father was a fletcher, and I learned the trade from watching him. My step-mother had always wanted me to be a lady.
I pulled the arrow out of his eye socket and examined the head, yeah I’m really not much of a lady. I wiped the arrow off on my trousers and slid it back into the quiver. The one in the orc’s chest was a lost cause snagged on his ribs.
I took a moment to admire my handiwork, before rifling through their pouches and gear for anything I could use. Orcs are a blight on the forest, but there’s no standing bounty on their ears. Some shoddy arrows, a few coins, a hefty axe, and a string of ears. Trophies I guess, no markings to dictate them as bounty rewards. Three humans, a dwarf, and a halfling.
Can’t help but think of Tobin, little Tobin who gave me my first bow. Tobin who came back to my fathers shop for short arrows ever two months, who when he found that Samuel, my father, had broken the bow he gave me taught me how to make one so that I wouldn’t ever be without a bow. It can’t be his ear, it has no piercings and Tobin wore three silver rings in each ear.
“Well that’s enough nostalgia. I’ve got a bugbear cave to find.” Great, I’m talking to myself. Yeah, that’s healthy. I decide to keep the axe with me head back to the trail I’d been following before this ambush became a nice, neat little pay bonus
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