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Old 08-08-2011, 04:46 PM
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Phil Phil is offline
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We who are about to die

The bards sing of these heroes, who lay down their lives for the defense of Southridge.

In this thread, post your character information, basically just copy and paste your posts from the application thread here. Make sure your character sheet info is available here. In addition, you'll need to list any powers which you intend to use on another creature's turn: the effects of these powers will be applied by me in most cases. If you have a power used on an ally's turn, one that allows an ally to reroll a missed attack, for example, make a note in the "usage" section of the table, so your allies know they can call upon that effect of they need it.

Example Table:
Grappling Strike (As an Opportunity Attack)Opportunity ActionEnemy leaves a square adjacent to Bill without shifting, or uses a ranged or area attack while adjacent to BillAttack: +13 vs. AC, Hit: 1d6+6 damage, and the target is grabbed until the end of Bill's next turnAlways use when triggered, as long as Bill has a free hand.
Melee Basic Attack (As an Opportunity Attack)Opportunity ActionEnemy leaves a square adjacent to Bill without shifting, or uses a ranged or area attack while adjacent to BillAttack: +13 vs. AC, Hit: 1d6+6 damageUse when triggered only if Bill doesn't have a free hand.
Melee Basic Attack (Combat Challenge)Immediate InterruptMarked adjacent enemy shifts or makes an attack that doesn't include BillAttack: +12 vs. AC, Hit: 1d6+6 damageAlways use when triggered.

Last edited by Phil; 08-28-2011 at 06:07 AM.
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Old 08-28-2011, 07:13 PM
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Coeur de Lion Coeur de Lion is offline
Dire Badger of Legend
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BasicsName: Lliathynnir Gallolloron
Race: Male Eladrin
Class (Build): Wizard (Staff)
Theme: Order Adept
Paragon Path: War Wizard of Cormyr
Alignment: Good

Background Lliathynnir was born the second child and first son of the powerful Gallolloron family based in the forests north of the Nentir Vale. His heritage was dominated by the continued presence of magical talent, with young Lliathynnir destined to become the 5th consecutive generation to reach the ranks of the arcane masters. The status of his family gave Lliathynnir a privileged upbringing, safe in the enclave of high elves, his education espousing the tenets of their race and history & instilling the values of superiority in the young eladrin.

Lliathynnir was a keen student, his natural intellect making him a quick learner and soon he was of an age where his father had organised a place at University to continue his eduction in the Art. Apprenticed to a Master Andarial Quicksilver, he took to the mastery of the fundamentals well, but too quickly. On more than one occasion Master Quicksilver was forced to discipline the young Llianthynnir, as he was eager to skip past the basics (which he mastered speedily) and advance onto the more complex and powerful incantations. However, over the months and years he spent with his Master, the methods began to take hold in Lliathynnir's mind and his growing discipline and application aided him in matching his Master's ability with the simpler arcane cantrips.

Soon, Lliathynnir had graduated from the University and was no longer a mere apprentice, but a fully fledged war mage. He based himself at the University, using its facilities to continue his education at his own pace, often times assisting Master Andarial with his work and expanding his contacts within the University, though naturally gravitating towards other elves of his views and opinions.

It was some months later that Master Andarial contacted Lliathynnir about some concerns that he had in the local area. Although the University is hidden and almost inaccessible, the Masters take an interest in affairs within the Greyscale Mountains, particularly the town of Southridge. Master Andarial imparted that there were rumours of some kind of drow invasion. The University was contacted to ascertain the willingness of providing a representative within a small group Fallcrest was putting together to investigate the reports. Lliathynnir volunteered to be that representative, as he was keen to explore the mountains and encounter some of the exotic denizens of Underdark, known to harbour evil which must be vanquished.

The group assembled was a powerful one, though Lliathynnir almost balked and reversed his decision when he found out there was a Drow as part of the team. He kept a close eye on them for any deception or general evil behaviour, but found very little. The other companions were of resourceful ability, stout warriors and another wielder of arcane arts, but none could match the wonders of the arcane art in full flow, encasing bands of drow in ice, burning others to ashes and luring still more to their deaths with subtle illusions.

The taste of glorious victory was bittersweet, with the revelation of futher puppeteers behind the scenes pushing for power in the region and the group were forced to flee back in the direction of Fallcrest.

Appearance Lliathynnir stands approximately 5'10, sporting the slender, lithe build of his high elven heritage. Even though he is clearly a master of the arcane arts, he is well built and tougher than he looks. He glares at you with emerald green eyes down the length of his nose, which is noble and aquiline. He gives off a noble and haughty air, his innate self-belief heightened by the fact that he has mastered eldritch secrets that would have destroyed a more feeble mind. His hair is straight, blonde and immaculately groomed, as belies his status. His robe is form fitting and cut exquisitely from fine cloth of deep emerald green. A swirling silver pattern seems to shimmer and move with each graceful movement of its owner. Lliathynnir carries a tall staff of yew, pale in colour, shod in mithral at the foot and the top is graced with a stylised dragon's maw, also of mithral, agape and holding a stunning storm grey orb. As the light catches the orb, you can almost see strikes of lightning flash across its surface.

PersonalityLliathynnir shows off the extent of his noble breeding and racial pedigree all too readily, immediately assuming tha all strangers are inferior until they prove otherwise. He does give great reverence to those he knows wield great power, but few make it to this level of esteem. His current companions and allies are given grudging respect. The mutual dislike that exists between the drow and his own people is well known.

Proud and intelligent though Lliathynnir is, he is essentially good at heart and follows the teachings of Corellon and takes the responsibility of wielding high arcana seriously and will not use it in a wanton or reckless manner. His allegiance to his former master and the senior wizards at the University is unwavering.

Character sheetCharacter sheet link

Staff of DefenseImmediate InterruptEnemy hits Lliathynnir with an attack and does damageLliathynnir gains a +3 bonus to defense against one attack. You can declare the bonus after the DM has already told you the damage total. Use when the bonus would mean the difference between hit and miss for an attack that does 10 or more damage.
MoonstrideImmediate ReactionAn enemy moves adjacent to LliathynnirLliathynnir becomes insubstantial until the end of his next turn. Then he shifts 2 squares to a square farther from the triggering enemy.Use when needed to escape a melee foe of sufficient power to worry Lliathynnir.
ThunderstaffImmediate InterruptAn enemy moves to within 2 squares of you.Melee 2. Attack: +17 vs. Fort, Hit: 2d6+11 damage and the target is deafened and dazed until the end of Lliathynnir's next turn. Effect: Pushed 5 squaresAlways use when triggered after Staff of Defense and Moonstride have been used.
Total Natural 1s = 115 |----------| Total Natural 20s = 98

Last edited by Coeur de Lion; 08-29-2011 at 07:05 PM.
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Old 08-28-2011, 09:57 PM
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Black Knight Black Knight is offline
Canadian Eh
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I'll take care of the tables soon!

Name: Thorün
Race: Dwarf
Alignment: Good
Class: Fighter (Battlerager)
Theme: Mercenary
Paragon Path: Dreadnought





Character Sheet

Melee Basic Attack (As an Opportunity Attack)Opportunity ActionEnemy leaves a square adjacent to Thorün without shifting, or uses a ranged or area attack while adjacent to ThorünAttack: +20 vs. AC, Hit: 1d12+12 damageAlways use when triggered.
Melee Basic Attack (Agile Opportunist)Immediate ReactionThorün is pulled, pushed, or slid into a square adjacent to an enemyAttack that enemy: +17 vs. AC, Hit: 1d12+12 damageAlways use when triggered.
Melee Basic Attack (Combat Challenge)Immediate InterruptMarked adjacent enemy shifts or makes an attack that doesn't include ThorünAttack: +17 vs. AC, Hit: 1d12+12 damageAlways use when triggered.
Reactive SurgeImmediate ReactionAn attack bloodies ThorünThorün can spend a Healing SurgeAlways use when triggered.
Favourite Systems: Savage Worlds, Iron Heroes, D&D 4e, 13th Age, Fantasy Craft.

Last edited by Black Knight; 09-05-2011 at 06:09 PM.
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Old 08-28-2011, 11:28 PM
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Frodiddly Frodiddly is offline
Great Wyrm
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Name: Andreste Eflanne
Race: Changling
Class: Cunning Bard
-Theme: Wizard's Apprentice
-Background: Occupation (Entertainer)
-Paragon Path: Resourceful Magician
-Alignment: Unaligned

Background: Andreste doesn't know how she came to find herself as a youngling in the streets of Fallcrest. All she remembers of her early life is fending for herself, without parents or guardians to defend her. The streets of Fallcrest were harsh and cruel, but Andreste used her shapeshifting abilities to survive. Stealing was essential, and she learned how to avoid getting caught, and the many ways she could exploit her femininity to get out of trouble.

Such was how much of Andreste's early life was spent. As she grew older and developed, her lot in life did not improve. She spent a good deal of time in the brothels of Fallcrest, and quickly grew to become a favorite of the less-morally bound, both men and women. On one of these nights, an unfortunate incident occurred. A woman, by name of Meleia, came to visit Andreste, and spoke of her apprenticeship under a local wizard. Unfortunately, Meleia suffered from a terminal disease, that struck upon the climax of her night with Andreste. Taking the opportunity to get herself out of the dirty slums, Andreste had the body disposed of, and shaped-shifted to take Meleia's place. She spent the next three years apprenticing under the wizard, showing respectable talents with the magical arts.

When a call went out to join up with an adventuring party, Andreste's mentor encouraged her to join. Over the years, Andreste had developed a great love for her mentor, and would not go against his wishes. She joined, and spent many years and fought many battles with this group.

Appearance: Andreste Eflanne has many forms, but most frequently shows herself as a light-skinned, blonde haired, and brown eyed woman. Her body is lithe and supple, considered attractive by nearly all. In battle, Andreste dresses in Hide armor, sewn together from Fey materials. She fights behind the lines, wielding a wand, as trained by her former Wizard master.

Personality: Andreste's past has given her a life of the self-preservationist. Her entire life has been spent trying to stay alive and improve herself, it just so happened that these goals coincided with the rest of the group. It is because of this that she fights in the back of the lines, encouraging the rest of the party to fight on and fight hard, if only so that she herself is not called upon to do so. Now that they have been cornered, with nowhere else to run, she must make a difficult choice: to stand and fight with her long-time friends and allies, or to change her form and flee the field.


Back from the dead and glad for it!
Natural 1s: 13 Natural 20s: 12

Last edited by Frodiddly; 09-07-2011 at 03:33 AM.
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Old 08-29-2011, 12:23 AM
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Mike Mike is offline
smarter than he looks
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Last Visit: 11-09-2011
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Name: Vanguard
Class: Warlord (Resourceful)
Race: Warforged

Backround: Created centuries ago at the height of Nerathi power, the warforged were built to protect the empire's massive border, but their capabilities as soldiers meant they were soon used in other capacities. A rare few, those with extraordinary gifts, were even given command of Nerathi Legions. The most famous of these Warforged Generals was called Vanguard, but his remains were lost when the Empire fell almost one hundred years ago, when he and his Legion were defeated in the defense of the Emperor. He was found years later by a band of heroes; in a comatose state, he was being worshipped by a band of Goblins who saw him as an avatar of Bane. He was rescued, repaired, and reactivated. Today, he still follows his old orders, to lead his team into battle to protect the Empire, or at least what remains of it.

Appearance: Vanguard is a living golem, a creature made of stone and wood and encased in steel. His left arm ends in a massive shield with a bladed edge, while his right arm ends in a powerful crossbow. This allows him to fight effectively with the artillary or on the frontline, wherever he's needed most.

Personality: Men of flesh are born weak, prey to hunger and disease. They breathe, they spawn, and they die. Yet in the days of the great empire, learned men of power wed artifice to arcana, and a new race was born into the world. Cut from stone and metal, the Warforged were made to be the ultimate living weapon. They were not built for empathy, and compassion is a thing that was not in their design. But there are souls caught up in them, and they make their own fate. So Vanguard believes.

His brothers sometimes spoke of the meat races as weaker, cheaper things. There were those among the crafted race who came to despise men and elves. They felt duty as a noose, honor merely a yoke to be cast off.

Vanguard never buckled under the weight placed on his shoulders. He fought alongside the flesh races of the Empire, and he knew that they were capable of nobility, of honor and sacrifice. Vanguard came to understand that mortality did not make their lives pointless -- it gave them meaning. He feels he owes the world no less than any man.

Stoic and grave, Vanguard speaks with natural authority. He is brave, but not foolhardy; he is willing to die for what he believes in, but not eager to do so. Hard but fair, he is a good leader for driven men, who fight with honor. But he has little patience for weakness, and none at all for cowardice. Vanguard has given his life once, to defend the free races. He will not hesitate to do so again.


Last edited by Mike; 08-30-2011 at 03:35 AM.
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Old 08-29-2011, 03:34 AM
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Connor Connor is offline
Immortal Celtic Monk
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Last Visit: 06-27-2019
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Name: Alden Ashencourt Race: Shifter [Razorclaw]
Class (Build): Ranger [Archer] Paragon Path: Battlefield Archer
Alignment: Unaligned Deity: [Raven Queen]
Background: Forest [Perception] Theme: Dune Trader

Core Concept: Hit and Run [Ranged]

Background: Alden grew up in a tribe that honored the feats of warriors, and while those who were too thin, or too weak to truly master the sword were still accepted, the chance they'd achieve prominence within the Clan was minimal at best. It wasn't that Alden was too thin, and he certainty wasn't too weak... He simply had an eye for detail. He could count the stripes on a tiger from 100 yards away or the spots on a leopard hidden between the branches of a tree and the glare of the Sun. He was born a Bowman, his father told him, something his uncle had also excelled at before leaving some seasons ago. He would train hard, even as a child, with the ever reminder of his father's voice prodding him on... 'always shore your weaknesses well, boy. You never know what's gonna come from the angles.'

That thought would run through his day as they ran from the infernal Drow who patiently (it seemed) stalked behind them, like they were animals rushing to the slaughter, and were none the wiser for it. He peppered their ranks with arrows when he could... but it never seemed enough. 'Jeez, were they emptying out the Underdark just to keep us from alerting the Town?' He couldn't help but to think. At least it was nice to gain a lead... nice to actually get a moment TO think.

He didn't know HOW they were going to hold these vile elves back until reinforcements might arrive... Nine Hells, he doubted IF they would make it alive. He knew from the beginning that this might be the most difficult adventure he'd ever been one... but the 'last' one... he didn't sign on for that. Regardless, Alden decided there and then, IF he was going to die here, in this pile of rubble and ruin... he was surely going to take a score or more of those dark skinned bastards with him!

Appearance: Alden is a feral humanoid with Russet fur covering tan flesh. An natural and not unpleasing elongation tends to effect the tips of his various limbs and features. Golden hued, feline eyes, flecked with green, peer out from behind thick fur-laden brows. Long, spear like teeth crease his lips when he smiles, offering even more insight into his bloodline affinity to the Lycanthrope's of legends. White primal tattoos etch his skin, each a mark and testament to his prowess, bravery, and kinship. He dons leathers taken and tanned from his kills alone, enchanted with various magics by the shamans he was sworn to protect. Long braids of bone and beads flow freely from his skull, the remaining hair secured behind him in a braid.

Personality: Despite his harsh upbringing, and his penchant for going against the perceived grain, Alden has always been a cheerful sort. One to quick-fire a barb as deftly as he could an arrow, should the social norms call for it. He's one to share a story openly, and listen attentively to others as they do the same. He is as charismatic as he is smart, but can often come up short in both when it comes to social interactions. He is unyieldingly loyal to his kith and kin, and those whom he has come to trust his own life to.

AmenitiesCharacter Sheet: Alden Ashencourt

Equipment: Feytouched Drowmesh Leather Armor +3 (Lvl 12: Free), Amulet of Protection +3 (Lvl 11: Free), Supreme Skirmisher's Greatbow +2 (Lvl 10: Free), Bracers of the Perfect Shot (Lvl 3: 680 gp), Boots of Spider Climbing (Lvl 5: 1,000 gp), Glove of Piercing (Lvl 3: 680 gp), Ironskin Belt (Lvl 5: 1,000 gp), Everlasting Provisions (Lvl 4: 840 gp), Potion of Healing (x15, 50 gp [each]), Standard Adventurer's Kit (15 gp), Ammunition (Arrows: 300, 10 gp), Silk Rope (100', 20 gp), Climber's Kit (x2, 2 gp), Hempen Rope (50', 1 gp)


Last edited by Connor; 08-31-2011 at 10:23 PM.
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Old 08-29-2011, 03:53 PM
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Daendil Daendil is offline
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Posts: 2,854
Name: Razzgar Da'Grouth
Race: Drow
Age: 30
Class: (essentials) Thief, PP: Master Thief
Alignment: Evil (neutral evil)
Theme: Wizard's Apprentice
Background: Underwild (+2 dungeoneering)

Story:Like all drow, especially males, Razzgar had a tough childhood. His mother was a sister of the Da'Grouth house's present matron mother. She died during the turmoil that followed the previous matron mother's death. Her children, Rhiessa and Razzgar continued to serve the house as nobles of rank however their rank was only secondary to the children of the new matron mother. This provided a level of safety as they were a little further from the continual struggle for power but at the same time often made them the target of ferocity and abuse. Having no one to protect them they formed a strong alliance. Rhiessa was older and female thus she maintained a strong dominance over Razzgar. Over the years she evolved to be one of the house's strongest magic wielders and she played the game of power skillfully. She did her best to keep her brother out of harm's way while making sure he trusted no one else but her. She managed to arrange that a small group of warriors be formed under her brother's command, the scouts: responsible for exploring new resources, securing important secret shipments, espionage and occasional assassinations. She also taught him some of her magic. Razzgar was content with his position which was low enough not to wake envy but raised him above the ignoble warriors of the Da'Grouth house.

[Ten years before...]
Razzgar lay on his bed. He hissed from the pain as the marks of Rhiessa's lash painted dark stripes on the back of his silken vesture. But soon his face displayed a fierce grin. He let the pain pervade his body as he recalled the passionate hour spent with his sister. Someone knocked on the door. Noiselessly he shifted into sitting. As he sat on his bed cross-legged, his white hair spread freely over his shoulders. In his sleeve's concealment his fingers reached the small poisoned dagger attached to his forearm. His black skin seemed somehow pale in the dim blueish light that illuminated the small chamber he called home. Most of the drow loathed light in any form but Razzgar got used to it over the years. He even found it practical. It made it less likely that someone would disturb him unnecessarily in his room. The source of the fluorescent light was the large, finely crafted terrarium that occupied nearly half of the chamber. It's shape resembled a large rock but parts of it were made of glass. It was his pet lizard's habitat. Beyond the bed and the terrarium there was room for nothing else but a closet at the corner.
- Come in! - he called on his clear but somewhat whispery tone. Clumsy scratching heard and a battered goblin entered the small room bearing a silver tray packed with various fruits and mushrooms.
- Bork brings master breakfast. - he croaked nervously glancing around. As a noble Razzgar was entitled to keep one slave. The ill fated goblin had been serving him for eight months which already counted as a small record. The young drow was known to be a particularly mean master.
- Put it here. - he gestured towards the end of his bed, and Bork staggered closer to fulfill the command. His gray skin was covered with numerous scars and wounds. He placed the tray and started for the door with a relieved sigh, when Razzgar suddenly called after him. - Did you taste it?
Bork turned around blinking startled. - Yes, yes, Bork tasted as master ordered, yes. - he jabbered. Drops of sweat appeared on his forehead. - Bork cleaned his hands twice before touching master's breakfast. - he added on a thinning voice.
- Good. - the drow said with a cold smile. - Leave now. - the goblin hastily bowed and practically ran out of the room.
Razzgar first fed some of the food to his pet lizard then he had his breakfast. He changed his vesture to dark blue robes. He clamped his hair into a ponytail with a silver grip. He carefully donned his leather armor but the pain still shot into his back a few times as he did so. He made sure to wear the small magical earring - a protective trifle from Rhiessa. He always had it in his ear those unfortunate times when he had to meet the weapon master. Within minutes he was ready to face the inscrutable web of challenges that awaited him this new day.

But Rhiessa reached too high too fast and she drew the attention of Viera, the oldest daughter of the matron mother. The priestess lured her into a false alliance against the matron mother and then had her executed for treason. She arranged it as a gruesome demonic sacrifice Razzgar was forced to watch. He was furious afterwards and he vowed vengeance. Not only did he lose his lover and mentor but he knew without Rhiessa it was only a matter of time till his enemies would get rid of him. Accidentally he stumbled across a group of fleeing slaves who planned to baffle the next great mission of the Da'Grouth house and other allied houses. One that was personally lead by Viera. He realized this was his chance to strike back and he joined forces with the slaves aiding their escape.

[A few days before...]
Like a mad banshee he stormed along the narrow corridors leading to his home chamber. His mouth in snarl, his eyes in tears, his cloak flapping behind him, his fists clenched. Every time he blinked he saw the agony in Rhiessa's eyes, every time he inhaled he felt the stench of her burning skin. His ears echoed her screams as her broken body was restored again and again only to have her killed yet another brutal way. Those that saw him were smart enough to get out of his way. Feelings swirled inside him. Feelings he didn't even know to exist in his frozen soul now surfaced and teared at his heart. He ripped the door of his room open dagger in hand. He didn't even remember when he drew his secret weapon. Luckily for her, Kiezra, his dwarven slave was not inside otherwise he would have ended her life in an instant. The cacophony of feelings melted into an amorphous black mass clouding his mind. A dull, unarticulated cry for revenge, a drab bloodlust that oppressed everything else inside him. Hastily he donned his black armor, he sheathed his sword and grabbed his hand crossbow. - Come on, Lizzy. We go for a little walk. - he whispered as he removed his pet lizard from her terrarium and sat her onto his shoulder. He headed towards the prisons. An idea formed slowly in his head that he would arrange a little tournament with the prisoners for their freedom or their death. But he found the guards dead and some of the prisoners missing. His mouth curved into an evil grin. He followed the tracks to hunt them down - just what he needed to divert his mind and maybe gain some calmness. They could not be far yet. He knew the maze of nearby caves and tunnels as the back of his hand. He found the escapees with ease. As he stalked near them unheard, unseen, he caught their nervous whispers. It was something about stopping the attack on Southridge. But that was impossible! The dark armies were already departing. In fact Rhiessa's death was used as a sacrifice to gain the favor of the Spider Queen for the mission. Could it be possible? Could the attack be stopped? Failure would mean the end of Viera! Whereas success would probably bring her enough power to take over house Da'Grouth. If there was a way, it had to be attempted! For Rhiessa... He raised his hands and slowly he stepped out of his hide.

Appearance: (with illustration - All copyright is owned by respective copyright owners.)
His slender build and handsome face are in contrast to his cold, merciless soul. Like most of the drow his skin is black and his dense white hair spreads over his shoulders (when not clamped into a ponytail). But unlike most of them, his eyes are blue. His motion is agile and noiseless. He wears soft leather boots, and black leather armor that is formed so that it hinders movement only minimally. The scabbard of his adamantine short sword is placed across his back. His hand crossbow is attached to his right thigh and a small case holding the bolts onto his left. Usually his pet lizard is sitting on his shoulder or hiding in the nearby. A small obsidian earring hangs form his right ear: a spider figure on a thin mithril chain. Under his right forearm is a concealed throwing dagger, usually dipped in poison.
Remarkable pieces of gear:
(lvl 12) Feytouched Drowmesh Leather Armor +3
(lvl 11) Distance Hand Crossbow +3
(lvl 8) Adamantine Short sword +2
(lvl 6) Amulet of Protection +2 (A detailed obsidian earring shaped as a spider hanging by a thread, the thread being an extra thin mithril chain. A precious gift from his sister, Rhiessa (Wizard's Apprentice benefit))
{(lvl 1) Distance Dagger +1}
{Climbing Claws (Couldn't find a better picture. It's supposed to be normal leather gloves except climbing blades can magically extend from the hand side (not the palm side) when needed)}
Personality: Cold, merciless, careful, somewhat paranoid (that's kind of normal living in a drow city), insidious in combat choosing sniping, poison, backstab over face-to-face struggle, disdainful towards other races especially those enslaved, respectful towards women (because coming from a matriarchal society), violent
Character Sheet: here

Cunning EscapeImmediate InterruptAn enemy attacks RazzgarRazzgar gains +4 to all defenses vs the triggering attack. At the end of this enemy's turn Razz can shift 3 squares as a free actionAlways use if not otherwise specified
Acrobat's EscapeImmediate ReactionAn enemy enters a square adjacent to RazzgarThat enemy is immobilized until the start of it's next turn and Razzgar shifts up to DEX mod sqs (5) to a sq not adjacent to that enemyAlways use if not otherwise specified
Climbing ClawsAt WillA melee weapon is needed and he isn't holding one.Razzgar's Climbing Claws can be used as an offhand lightbladeE.g.: OA when he only holds his hand crossbow

Last edited by Daendil; 08-30-2011 at 05:16 PM.
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