[Characters] Shadow Team Roster

[Lashiec]

Please post a copy of your character application here. This will make it easy for the group to get to know your character and refer back to it when we forget details of who you are.

[Crucius]

 

Application Name: Worjhan Ulxaacnerbik Race: Silver Dragonborn Class: Zealot Barbarian Personality: I am a fair man and judge people by their actions rather than their words. People say things all the time, but their words are worth nothing if they’re not backed up by action. If you want the world to be a better place, wishes will get you nowhere. You have to get up and do something about it. That’s how I live my life, I do. When things get hard, I keep doing. Bahamut will be with me if I do as he would have me do. Defend the good, punish the evil, that is what I do. Appearance: I am midsized for a dragonborn but certainly tower over most other peoples I have met in my travels, standing at six foot six with broad and sturdy shoulders. My rusty red scales don’t reflect light as the good dragons do, but I ensure that what armor I do wear matches the scales of the great metallic dragons. I have an emblem of Bahamut that I wear on my girdle and am more than happy to tell others about the great Platinum Dragon when asked. Background: Knight of the Order - Faction: Platinum Cadre - Trait #1: I see myself as a hero and feel the urge to help anyone in need. - Trait #2: Actions speak louder than words. - Ideal: Justice. The innocent need protection and the guilty need punishment. (Lawful) - Bond: I wish to bring back the head of a chromatic dragon to gain favor with Bahamut and Pandrolyss. - Flaw: I refuse to believe that inaction is ever the best choice and will rail against any plan that requires me to do nothing. Something must be done, even if it’s dangerous, in order for anything to get done. Hometown: Djerad Thymar in Tymanther Backstory: I grew up in the capital city of Tymanther, the nation of the Dragonborn. I grew up hearing the tales my family would tell about the world of Abeir and the tyranny of dragons. When my people lived in Abeir, before the spellplague, we were slaves to the dragons who lived their, godless monsters who ruled the world with an iron claw. I was taught that all dragons would follow the same route eventually and that if a dragon god was truly worthy of worship m they would have come to free us long ago. This was how I thought too. Until one day when walking through the market square, I encountered an older looking Dragonborn woman accompanied by three bright canaries. Something in her eyes pulled me in, although I saw many of the other market goers actively avoiding her and even one or two reviling her. As I closed in, I discovered why. This woman was trying to teach people about Bahamut. I had heard of Bahamut of course, the “good” god of dragons, a particular object of disdain for my people. But I couldn’t pass by without speaking to her, and I found that the easiest way to do that was to let her tell me more about the platinum dragon. Her name was Pandrolyss and she taught me much about Bahamut; his justice, goodness, and mercy; and although it went against all I had been taught before, there was something in my voice that made me believe her. After having met secretly several times over the next few tendays, she invited me to meet with some likeminded Dragonborn called the Platinum Cadre. I quickly found myself joining their ranks and training in their knighthood, leaving the life I knew before behind. Shortly after this, Pandrolyss revealed her secret to me by transforming. She grew in size, her scales took on an incredible luster, and great shining wings expanded from her back. She was not a Dragonborn but a great Silver Dragon. This only greatened my understanding of how wrong my family was, not only were these followers of Bahamut a great and noble people, but Pandrolyss, a dragon, was the most honest, kind, and enlightened being I had ever spoken with. I dedicated myself to the platinum dragon. Not long after, word of an attempt by the Cult of the Dragon to summon the terrible Tiamat brought many of us to the sword coast to do battle against their forces. The battles were bloody, but with the strength of Bahamut and the bravery of a group of adventurers, the cult was stopped. Many of us stopped at the temple of Bahamut in Baldur’s gate, and while there I heard tell of a white dragon threatening the town of Phandalin. I know that bringing the evil dragon’s head back to Tymanther will bring me glory in the sight of Bahamut and the respect of Pandrolyss. So, where’s the dragon?

Character Details   Worjhan Ulxaacnerbik Dragonborn Barbarian 2 Full Character Sheet Ability Scores Str +3 (16) Dex +2 (14) Con +2 (14) Int +0 (10) Wis +0 (10) Cha +0 (11) HP 23/23 AC 14 Speed 30 Initiative +2 Passive Perception 12 Languages Common Draconic Celestial Key Skills Athletics +5 Intimidation +2 Perception +2 Religion +2 Saving Throws Strength +4 Constitution +4 Limited Use Abilities Bonus Action. You have advantage on Strength checks and saving throws, gain a +2 bonus to damage from strength based attacks, and gain resistance to physical damage for 1 minute. The effect ends early if you do not attack or take damage for a round.Rage 2/2 Action. Breath a 15 foot cone of energy dealing 3d6 cold damage on a failed Con save of DC 12 and half as much on a successful save.Breath Weapon 1/1 Hit Dice 1/1d12 Inspiration — Equipment Traveler’s Clothes Emblemed Girdle Backpack Bedroll Torch x10 Tinderbox Rations x10 Mess Kit Hempen Rope x50 Waterskin Equipment Weapons Maul Attack +5 Damage 2d6+3 Bludgeoning Attributes Two-handed, Heavy Handaxe Attack +5 Damage 1d6+3 Slashing B]Attributes[/B] Light, Thrown (20/60) Ammunition 2/2 Javelin Attack +5 Damage 1d6+3 Piercing Attributes Thrown (30/120)   Combat   Knightly Regard: You receive shelter and succor from members of the Platinum Cadre and those who are sympathetic to its aims. You can also gain aid from temples and other religious communities of Bahamut. This help comes in the form of shelter and meals, and healing when appropriate, as well as occasionally risky assistance, such as a band of local citizens rallying to aid a sorely pressed knight in a fight, or those who support the order helping to smuggle a knight out of town when he or she is being hunted unjustly. Draconic Resistance: You have resistance to cold damage. Danger Sense: You have advantage on Dexterity saving throws against effects that you can see, such as traps and spells. To gain this benefit, you can't be blinded, deafened, or incapacitated. Reckless Attack: When you make your first attack on your turn, you can decide to attack recklessly. Doing so gives you advantage on melee weapon attack rolls using Strength during this turn, but attack rolls against you have advantage until your next turn. Features

[Chylopan]

 

Bel-Anar, Servant of the Wounded Lord Application Name: Bel-Anar Ultharion Race: High Elf Class: Cleric (Order) Background: Acolyte Age: 237 Gender: Male Alignment: Lawful Neutral   Bel-Anar, of average height for his race, boasts a physique far more brawny than most. Instead of being the prototypical sleek and slender, fae-like creature of old, the Servant-Cleric could, for all intents and purposes, pass as an unusually tall Human, or, perhaps, even a runty Goliath, were it not for the point of his ears. His face, though long and angular, holds a masculine cut that is distinctly different from the softer shapes that have come to define Elven beauty, even his hair is atypical in its shorter, chin-length golden styling. Thus it is that, by the immaculate standards of his kin, Bel-Anar falls short of expectations and wouldn't be considered attractive by any who had the ability to compare. It wouldn't matter even if he was, for a disfiguring affliction has claimed his flesh with the same tenacity as maggots upon carrion decay. There, on the surface of his skin (where it has not rotted away to mere muscle and soft tissue), rest countless ulcers, lesions, and hypopigmented macules, giving Bel-Anar a look that would cause most to label him an abomination -- or, at the very least, turn their stomach. Thankfully, the Servant-Cleric is well aware of his pestilent image and, for both the sake of himself and others, covers from head-to-toe at all times, often going so far as to don a hood or wear a metal mask so as to hide his unpleasant visage from those who might reel in fright.   Traits: Stoic: Literally. The man could be mistaken for a statue when fully armed and armored, especially so when wearing his mask. This leaves but the sound of his voice, its tone, cadence, etc., as means by which others might be able to discern any layers beneath those overt. To put it simply: be it by practicality or preference, expressiveness isn't really a skill in his repertoire. Unsocialized: This is not to say that he isn't sociable, merely that life amongst a reclusive, highly religious cult has made him many things... and none of them worldly or particularly perceptive to social cues. Many stock-standard social encounters might throw him for a loop or be handled in a less-than-optimal manner. Either way, Bel-Anar can be quite talkative and outgoing; simply, the manner in which he does this might often be considered awkward, unorthodox, or even downright rude depending on the circumstance. Ideal: Aspiration (Penance/Repentance): Bel-Anar believes his affliction to be a form of punishment from his cult's diety, Tyr, the Wounded God. Some time ago, the Servant-Cleric had sought out a perverse form of justice at the behest of a sect elder, a man viewed by all as holy, which ended up staining his hands with innocent blood and nearly shaking him from the faith altogether. Now, under a rite of pilgrimage, Bel-Anar seeks not only to atone for his sins, but also to become the avatar of law, order, and justice for those who cannot hope to find it on their own. Like the Wounded God, justice is blind. Saint or sinner, all must weigh themselves on the mercy of His scale; and, let it be forever known, none escape His adjudication. Flaw:Trust (Faith): As made clear by his over-zealous adherence to cult doctrine, Bel-Anar gives the benefit of the doubt to any who share his faith, even if they aren't deserving of the courtesy. A by-product of his unwavering devotion, clearly;part-and-parcel of being born and raised in a reclusive monastery. Bel-Anar is everything but quiet or reserved, often speaking his mind where and when it isn't warranted, almost always to the tune of some religious hymn or proverb, like a preacher who can't help but proselytize. Yet, because of his affliction, his voice often takes on the metallic reverb of his mask, which often characterizes him with an undeserved sinisterness. Regardless, by all accounts, despite his many pitfalls, the Servant-Cleric is a just and righteous man, eager to service the kind-hearted, innocent, chaste, and pure, while eager to stamp out wickedness and evil wherever it may lay. In possession of a strong moral compass, one needn't ever be uncertain as to what the right and proper path may be with Bel-Anar around, as his centuries-long study of the Wounded God and his teachings have blessed him with great wisdom and patience.   The Servant-Cleric seeks not only to make amends for his past wrong-doing, but also to spread the word of Tyr and his faith, while also exemplifying the very best of both. In that regard, naturally, on this pilgrimage does Bel-Anar hope to purify his body and spirit through deeds most righteous, be they meager or grandiose, and, perhaps a bit foolhardily, mete out justice where there is naught.   Life in a cloistered monastery is not always difficult or fraught with mind-numbing tedium; in fact, to those who have been spent their entire lives in such a place, like Bel-Anar, there is no reference with which to compare; it's humdrum, like other types of everyday living, but more often than not peaceful and fulfilling -- even without the creature comforts others might enjoy. Of the first generation to be born within the monastery's walls, Bel-Anar and his contemporaries were molded to be the very best and brightest of their order, each of them being hand-selected for their duties. Under the rigorous pupillage of a wisened elder, many of this initial brood would later go on to become high-ranking priests or warrior-knights, one would later go on to become the standing prophet, but none were kept so lowly and base as Bel-Anar. While his classmates went on to bigger and better things, often taking them far-and-wide on mission trips and relief efforts, Bel-Anar had remained in the same station from which he had started, a mere Servant-Cleric. Lady Luck had not blessed the Servant-Cleric, and his god, Tyr, had not eyes with which to keep on him, so it was that, by something so fickle as fate, the elder who had selected him as his protege wound up being one with unscrupulous intentions. Still, he received all the same martial, scholastic, and theological training that his peers had, but his duties were kept uninspiring and meager; more importantly, they also put him in direct opposition to the interest of the standing ecclesiarchy, making him an unwitting pawn in his mentor's game of intrigue and corruption. Eventually, this came to a head when Bel-Anar was tricked into killing two of his mentor's rivals, neither of which had actually committed any wrong-doing. The plot was uncovered but the crime was pinned wholly on Bel-Anar. Before he could face the judgment of the monastery tribunal, the Servant-Cleric fell deeply ill with a disfiguring malady that put him on bed rest for nearly three weeks. Many believed him to be dying the slow, painful death deserved of a traitorous murderer -- and they may have been right -- but, as that fickle hand of fate does often swing one way and then the other, it came to be that he would persevere; albeit, after having been nearly eaten alive by illness and suffering the shame of betrayal. Perhaps, too, Tyr caught wind of his desperate servant's plea, for it was deemed by the tribunal that the ravages of his sickness were punishment enough for his crimes, though he was to forever remain behind the veil of a mask and had been barred from attending service with the flock (which, to a man of deep faith, was a fate believed to be worse than death). So he lived for a time, forever in the shadow of his own order, constantly haunted by his sacrilege, always looking over his shoulder for the dagger come to tie up loose ends... Until, one night, he suffered a terrible fever and slipped into a trance-like state whereupon he had a vision of redemption. The very next day he petitioned for a rite of pilgrimage; it was accepted upon the stipulation that he not return until his spirit had been cleansed.

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[routzong]

 

Application Name:"Mugo" Mugogall Thudurk Race: Half-Orc Class: Paladin - Oath of Devotion Personality: Calm, kind and quiet... Nothing like a stereotypical Half-Orc. Mugo strives to be helpful and friendly whenever possible, overcompensating for a youth spent doling out hatred and torture. He struggles with any unnecessary taking of life, goes above and beyond to settle matters peacefully and shows abundant mercy to all he encounters. However, deep inside, he still fights against the rage and violence of his Orc lineage and upbringing. Appearance: A daunting figure with his 6'7" frame, his body covered in scars of all shapes and sizes, and a single jagged tusk protruding from his lower jaw. His grey skin was covered in think hair and frequently covered in a layer of sweat. Background: Hermit Personality Traits: I am utterly serene, even in the face of disaster. I often get lost in my own thoughts and contemplation, becoming oblivious to my surroundings. Ideal: Greater Good. My gifts are meant to be shared with all, not used for my own benefit. (Good) Bond: I’m still seeking the enlightenment I pursued in my seclusion, and it still eludes me. Flaw: I harbor dark, bloodthirsty thoughts that my isolation and meditation failed to quell. Hometown: Thar, north of the Moonsea Backstory: Mugogall Thudurk was raised in in Thar, north of the Moonsea by a tribe of orcs. Mugo never knew his mother, likely a bastard son of a human slave woman captured by the tribe. He was not treated well in the tribe, but compared to those outside the tribe, his treatment was mostly merciful. His youth was troubled, forced by the tribe to participate in wanton violence and destruction, while internally he struggled even with the smallest taking of life. Frequently during these raids, Mugo would intentionally hang back, sometimes purposefully twisting an ankle or falling to explain why he was not on the front lines with his family. While his father and siblings slaughtered wantonly, he struggled with understanding the reason these innocent creatures needed to die. After around 13 winters, Mugo had finally reached his breaking point. His father looked at him, eyes gleaming, grinning from ear to ear. His terrible tusks dripped with saliva and blood as he roared. "Crush his puny skull boy!" Mugo was standing on the battlefield, holding a helpless gnome off the ground by his tiny little head. "I said crush that scrawny rat of a creature, IDIOT BOY!" his father roared. The gnome cried and plead wildly for mercy and another chance. Mugo grabbed his halberd, tossed the gnome into the air and swung his weapon with all his might. His father's eyes appeared for a moment content and proud of his half-breed bastard of a son. Quickly that glow of pride changed to a mixture of confusion and pain. The gnome landed safely in a bramble bush, while the halberd found purchase in the gut of his father. "MURDERER!" the half-breed, bastard half-orc screamed as he wrenched the weapon out of his fathers torso. Turning towards the forest he ran with all his might through the afternoon and into the evening. Snapping branches and small trees as he ploughed through the forest, eventually he simply collapsed from exhaustion. After nearly 4 days of wallowing in misery and wandering aimlessly, Mugo met a Priest of Ilmater who provided him with food and water, possibly the first act of kindness he'd ever received in his 13 winters. Soon the conversations and discussions turned toward a "noble life". A life of helping, not harming; building, not destroying, was possible even in the tumultuous times of Faerun. Soon Mugo and Powin the Priest had formed quite a bond and after a few years of discussion, training and prayer Mugo vowed his allegiance to Ilmater and eliminate oppression and persecution wherever his fates took him. Mugo soon took to following after his own tribe, providing aid to any who survived their wrath, yet never able to stop their mayhem. During his 16th winter, he noticed the tribe quickly picking up and moving further south, redoubling their raids to the south. Sensing Ilmater was sending him a sign, he headed even further south to Phandalin to try and get ahead of the tribe and stop their terror once and for all.

[cookieyummy]

 

Application Name: Azariah Uladithas Race: Half- Elf Age: 21 Class: Artificer (Artillerist) Background: Clan Crafter Personality: Azariah is a confident young woman who can be as stubborn as her dwarven foster parents. They have taught her the value of their craft and she takes pride in the skills she learned over the years. Always curious and looking for an opportunity to learn something useful the young woman is dedicated to her craft and although she will always keep some secrets she will gladly explain her gadgets to anyone who shows serious interest in them. At least that is what people see from the outside. Underneath it all she is very self-conscious and longing for acceptance and recognition. Her inventions are all she really has and she secretly hopes that one day they will be good enough so that she will be more than the mistake her father claims her to be. Fueled by this ambition she is always up for a challenge to test and perfect her skills. Appearance: Although she usually would like to hide it Azariah’s sun elven heritage is clearly visible just from her deep bronze skin color and her antique golden eyes alone. And as much as she tries to hide her pointed ears they often find a way to poke out of the mess of braided black hair, which she mostly wears up out of convenience. Despite all of this it is clear that she is not fully elven, she is shorter and her features are softer than those of a "normal" sun elf. The slender girl always carries herself with a certain grace that had gotten drilled into her during childhood but while she still knows how to behave properly she has adapted a lot to the dwarven way of life. When she is not wearing her armor the young woman prefers her clothes to be more practical than pretty, something she can work in. The only two thing she always has on her are her leather bag which contains most of her equipment and Emberling, her magical gauntlet. Personality Traits: I like to talk at length about my profession. I'll settle for nothing less than perfection Ideal: Creativity. The world is in need of new ideas and bold action. Bond: I will work hard to to one day earn the approval of my family. Flaw: I judge others harshly, and myself even more severely. Hometown: Evereska / Leilon Backstory: Azariah had always known she was a mistake. Her father, Therenvaris Uladithas, the proud sun elf captian of the Vale Guard had made sure of that. She was just the result of a tragic mistake and him taking her in when her mother could no longer take care of her was an act of undeserved generosity. Growing up with three brothers in a military household was far from easy for the headstrong girl. To get at least some form of recognition from her father Azariah grew quite ambitious to become the only thing he seemed to value: A capable fighter. But no matter how much she trained she could never match the fighting skills of her brothers. Unfortunally for her father though she seemed to be the only child that had inherited an aptitude for the arcane. For years Therenvaris tried to ignore that fact but in the end he begrudgingly decided to send the 13-year-old girl to the Stargazer Academy so the potential of his blood would not get wasted. And this way she would no longer be his problem. Having been pushed off like this the deeply hurt young girl never really got comfortable in the strict boarding school and despite her good grades she became quite rebellious. After just one year the situation had escalated far enough for her to finally run away. For weeks Azariah wandered around aimlessly until she came to Leilon. There she met Brokrol and Owagina Flintbraid, a dwarven couple that worked in the small mining town as jewlers. Once they found out that the girl had nowhere to go they offered her a place to stay for the time being. The only payment they asked for was that she would help out around the shop. And helping out she did. Over time she proved to be quite capable with the various tools around the workplace and the dwarves had somewhat “adopted” her as their own. But no matter how much she enjoyed creating beautiful necklaces or intricate arcane foci a part of her was still drawn to the arcane knowledge she had studied at the academy. So one night she started to tinker, armed with both her school notes and the tools of her foster parents. Countless failed attempts later she actually managed to successfully combine the two, resulting in an intricate gauntlet she could use to fire different magical ammunition. Inspired by this first success the young woman continued to work on different projects. She would become a fighter in her own way and once she had proven her skill her father would have no choice but to finally recognize her. All she needed was a chance.

[Lashiec]

 

Worjhan is ready for combat!



Mugo is ready for combat!


Azariah is ready for combat!



Hanelyn is ready for combat!



Bel-Anar is ready for combat!

[SnakeOilCharmer]

Hanelyn's info Name: Hanelyn Bodenshaw Race: Halfling (Lightfoot) Class: Draconic Sorcerer Personality: Hanelyn is an irrepressibly optimistic individual fond of truly dreadful puns. She is extremely outgoing, to the point of rarely knowing when to shut up, and she has a particular tendency to babble when nervous. Hanelyn is usually the kind of person who can adapt quickly to make the best of any changing circumstances, however she remains in a state of awe about the sorcerous powers she has developed. She has a bad case of impostor syndrome as an adventurer - she still sees herself as a simple jeweller's apprentice, and it doesn't seem fair to her that the other adventurers in the party had to work all their lives on their skills, and yet her powers are just...there. Appearance: Hanelyn is a generally unremarkable looking Halfling, except for a couple of things. She stands 2'10" tall, with large cup-shaped ears and a button nose. Her face is soft and round, indicating that she has never wanted for decent food and drink. Hanelyn's hair is a mass of curls that defy any attempt to style them. Her hair is usually a dull brown, but changes color every time she casts a spell, usually to a bright and unnatural hue. The new color then slowly fades over the course of about an hour, unless she uses magic again in the meantime. Her left upper arm has a small patch of red dragon scales just above the elbow, which (on average) a couple of times a day begins itching in a manner impervious to scratching. She doesn't wear armor, instead preferring clothing, the simplicity of whose primary colors contrast with their complicated runic patterning. These patterns have no particular meaning, but Hanelyn favors them because she thinks it's the kind of thing a sorcerer should wear. Background: Guild Artisan Personality Traits: I'm full of witty aphorisms and have a proverb pun for every occasion. I always want to know how things work and what makes people tick. Ideal: Generosity. My talents were given to me so that I could use them to benefit the world. (Good) Bond: I aim to gain the same renown as an adventurer that my father accrued for his jewellery. Flaw: I’ll do anything to get my hands on something rare or priceless. Hometown: Waterdeep Backstory:   Hanelyn is the second daughter of Quillin Bodenshaw, a master jeweler from Waterdeep. Like her elder sister Medda before her, she was apprenticed to one of Quillin's fellow guild members. Unlike Medda, who immediately showed the same spark of genius in her work that had been their father's calling card, Hanelyn was a solid, but unspectacular apprentice. She got the hang of most aspects of silversmithing, but some bits took her longer to grasp than the average apprentice. However, while her jewelcraft was mediocre, other things about Quillin Bodenshaw's younger daughter were anything but. At the age of twelve, the first red scale appeared on her left arm, and around the same time small, but weird things began happening around her. Candle flames began to flicker, change color, or double in size when she entered a room, and sometimes to her frustration a gem she was holding would simply vanish, only to reappear in her pocket half an hour later. Luckily for Hanelyn, her father recognised some of these signs from family stories about his own grandfather, Norwil Bodenshaw, who had originally founded the Bodenshaw and Sons jewellery business. Family stories abounded of how Norwil had summoned magical flames to help him shape silver ingots into the shapes required by customers. Recognising the signs of sorcery in Hanelyn, Quillin used his contacts within the guild to get in touch with J'Drax Elfor, an elderly Half-Elf sorcerer living in comfortable retirement in Waterdeep. Each day, Hanelyn would go to the old spellcaster's house after she finished at the jeweler's shop, and listen to his longwinded (and, she suspected, at least partially fabricated) stories of magic and adventuring, in return for helping him with basic tasks around the house. Hanelyn wasn't sure the man actually needed her help, for he seemed to cope fine on his own, but he seemed grateful for the company. On completion of her apprenticeship, Hanelyn realised that while she could probably survive as a jeweler, she would never measure up to her father or sister's skill. Not wishing to be known as "The lesser Bodenshaw" for the rest of her life, and urged by J'Drax to bring him new stories of travel and magic, she decided to head out from Waterdeep to seek adventure. Surprisingly, her father was entirely on-board with her decision. He just had one request first...Deliver this special necklace to a very important customer in the town of Phandalin, far to the North. So Hanelyn set off, not entirely sure whether she'd made the right decision, but determined to carve out her own niche, independent of her family, and to produce stories worthy of those she'd heard from J'Drax.

[GeneT]

 

Name : Le-ilao

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Race : High-elf
Classes : Rogue
Alignment : Neutral-Good

Hometown : Loudwater
Background : Criminal

Personality Traits :

• The best way to get me to do something is to tell me I can’t do it.
• I always have a plan for what to do when things go wrong.

Ideal : Freedom. Chains are meant to be broken, as are those who would forge them.

Bond : On his deathbed, my father told me a secret. A secret born of his mistakes and youth. A secret that I have now inherited. In order to make amends, I must become the greatest thief that ever lived and steal back that which was stolen and return it to its rightful place.

Flaw: When I see something valuable, I can’t think about anything but how to steal it. The fish in me likes shiny things. And the sharper the hook, the meaner the person, the greater the challenge.

Physical Description/Personality:

I am of average height and slight of build. I've always thought my eyes too close set and the bridge of my nose too sharp. And I've a notch in the upper curve of my right ear. It's the same as my father's........and his mother's.........and her mother's. I keep it hidden. Not because it's a feature that defines me and makes me memorable when I'd rather not be remembered. But because it's mine.

As all women or men, I know how to use the curve of my hips. I may not saunter or be blatant like some tavern server, but I'm not under any false idea that it shouldn't be used and instead demurred. It's a bit'a flash and if that flash be useful, something to befuddle and fool, then so be it. There's plenty'a pockets empty because some man or woman thinks everything is a prize to win or use. I ain't no prize nor something to use unless it makes sense to me. For friends, my eyes are bright and open, as they are to most; those that toil, and struggle, or need a hand. To everyone else, them that don't see toil and struggle, or benefit unjustly from it, they be shiny yet shallow. Green, beautiful - despite my nose - and dangerous. No matter what use they think to seek from me.

Background :

My father was a smuggler as were all my family. Most smuggled for a cause, but some did not. Some smuggled for themselves, for greed, for power, for things worse. Everyone has those kinds that they share blood with. Just like I figure that any alive had to have a killer in their family. Someone who fought, and fought well, to take what they wanted and survive. Civilization didn jus sprout from some fine green pasture. It grew from the weeds of our blood. Men and women who were strong. Men and women who were killers. I wouldn't be here any other way. Nor would anyone else no matter how high brow their words. Somewhere, way back when there was jus mud and fire, there is a killer in my line. A killer in everyone's line.

Luckily we gave that up and started smuggling instead. I'm sure in the beginning my family stole because it was easier and they were good at it. But I know that wasn't the only reason. Those of us who have souls worth some weight give up killing when its not needed and only resort to it when forced or we're protecting others. And somewhere down that hazy line, we started stealing and moving goods when the cause was right. Mistakes were made, certainly. But my family, at least most of them, gave up smuggling for just themselves long ago. Or so I thought.

A deathbed isn't a place to learn of mistakes. It's a place to let go. To hold a cold hand, remember how they smiled, and to let go. But I know why he did it. I can still see him looking at me. His eyes are the same for me as when I was very small and he smelled like fish. Much is smuggled surrounded by fish. I didn't mind the smell then because under it was him. Clove smoke and lemon. Rough warm hands and sharp stubble. And I promised to make it right so my father's eyes didn't change in the end. For him or for me.

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Character Sheet

DND Beyond Character Sheet

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.   Stat Le'ilao Half Elf | Rogue 2 | | HP: 15/15 | Armor Class: 15 | Saves: Str +1 / Dex +5 / Con +0 / Int +3 / Wis +0 / Cha +1 Senses: Initiative +3, Passive Perception 12, Passive Investigation 11. Move: 30' | Conditions: None. Languages: Common, Undercommon Tool Proficiencies: Thieves Tools, Forgery Tools Attack Bonuses: Melee +5 | Ranged +5 Weapons: Shortbow: +5 strike | 1D6+3 piercing damage | Range 150/600. Arrows 20/20. Rapier | +5 strike | 1D8+3 piercing damage | Dagger x2 | +5 strike | 1D4+3 piercing damage | Range 20/60. Trained Skills: Acrobatics +5. Athletics +2. Perception+2. Persuasion +2. Stealth +7. Slight of Hand +5. Spells: Message

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[Shula]

 

Name: Dawnlord Dirk Ambercrown, itinerant priest of Lathander Race: Human Class: Cleric (Life Domain) Personality: Dirk strives to be an inspiration to others. He is reflective and quietly caring. When things need to be done the cleric sometimes is a bit gruff. Dirk can be creative when he needs to be. Normally, he can keep his emotions in check, but when he sees undead he gets angry to the point of almost raging. Sometimes he'll talk to his mother as if she was still alive. Whether he gets an answer, only Dirk knows. Appearance: At five foot eight and weighing two hundred twelve pounds, Dirk is a brute of a man. His hair is brown as is his eyes. Dirk has a fair complexion with rosey cheeks. He prefers colors of gold, red and white, Lathander's favored colors. Dirk normally wears his vestments over his armor. Backstory: Where his parents, Roland and Marta, originally hailed from Dirk has no recollection, his first memories being of Khedell. They were traders of fine wood, making a living selling their goods to Waterdhavian carpenters. Dirk always travelled with them as there was no extended family in the thorpe they hailed as home. In his eighth year, the wagon train that Dirk was traveling in was attacked by a wizard leading undead brigands. Before going to fight, his parents hid him in a secret compartment of the wagon. Dirk was afraid, so scared that it took him three days to exit the wagon. He found his parents and the other half dozen merchants all dead. The lad stayed by his mother's side. Dirk would have died of thirst had it not been for a priest wandering by. Taking stock of the situation the priest, Grimgor, took charge of the boy. Dirk would spend the rest of his childhood and into his late teen learning so he could be anointed into the clerical order. On his 19th naming day, the young man was made a priest of Lathander and the right to be called 'Dawnlord'. Over the next few years, Dirk made friends with two adventurers, a halfling named Brandeon and a human named Lyra. Slowly but surely, the two fed the young cleric with the teachings of the Lord's Alliance. Dirk saw the mission of the betterment and protection of its member settlements as a good thing. Eventually he joined as an agent of the faction. Lyra, a swordmage, taught Dirk the fundamentals of summoning a familiar and the spell Green Flame Blade. Due to his connection with Lathander the flame was not green as usual but gold, red and white strands. The cleric decided that this was a sign that his god approved of him dabbling in the arcane. At the age of 26, the church elders decided that Dirk's calling was as itinerant rather than a rector of a set church. So it is that he found himself wandering the Sword Coast. Dirk did his best and mostly that was good enough. Lately he could be found in the Frozenfar Region, spreading the word of the Morninglord to the barbarians there. What most in the church do not know is that Dirk carries a text describing the Risen Sun heresy. He was a diehard believer. In short, the heresy prophecies that Lathander would be fully unveiled as Amaunter. Dirk keeps the text secret except to the cleric, Nigel Greyjoy, who introduced him to the book. Fervently he prays every morning that this would be the day of the Risen Sun's return. Background [Faction Agent (Lord's Alliance)]: Personality Traits: The roads are open to me, I follow my feet and enjoy the journey that they take, like water filling a cup. I strive for a better me tomorrow, always improving both physically and spiritually through hard work. Ideal: Avenger: I always seek to destroy evil, especially undead. It is my truest purpose. Bond: I seek to preserve a sacred text that most of my fellow clerics consider heretical and seek to destroy. Flaw: I'm an honest person and I can hardly lie to save my life. Hometown: Born in Kheldell, a thorp on the northern brim of the Westwood in the foothills of the Sword Coast Spires. From the age of 8 raised by the clerics of Lathander at Morninglow Tower, Waterdeep.

CharSheet

[Lashiec]

Dirk is ready for combat!

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[Lashiec]

Le-Iloa is ready for combat!

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[Grouchy]

Toffindin of the Bone Men Name: Toffindin of the Bone Men Race: Variant Human Class: Ranger 2 Personality: Toffindin is a proud and slightly narcissistic warrior which stems from his status within his tribe known as the Bone Men. The Bone Men are so named for their strong traditional beliefs in the spirits of their ancestors that they wear the finger bones of their deceased relatives for protection from evil spirits. Toffindin currently wears the finger bones of his father and grandfather, and they are a source of great pride to him. Toffindin is a cunning and able hunter, with a strong personal code and great courage stemming from the fact that he would rather die with honor than act cowardly and be shamed before his people. He keeps his tribe in his thoughts often, as they are the true meaning of his adventures and he wishes to return to them with honor. He sees most civilized men as soft and has little patience for their gripes and complaints. He respects strength and honor, and those who display them are to be admired. Although he used to be a temperate and calm man, his burning desire to avenge the death of his young wife has made him a bit short tempered. Appearance: Toffindin is shorter than the average man, with deeply tanned skin and a lean wiry build. His thick black hair is tied into multiple braids with simple black cord, revealing a broad forehead and narrow brown eyes on a clean shaven face. He has a small slightly upturned nose and thin lips, and is somewhat handsome in his own way. He stands proudly and with such confidence that you have seen royalty be less self assured about themselves. He wears a cloak made out of a gray wolf, with the head of the wolf split in two to allow it to be worn without a clasp of any kind. Around his neck is a thin leather loop from which hangs several human finger bones. He wears well made buckskin clothing and leather armor of an unusual and somewhat primitive style. He carries a longbow in his hands, and has a dagger strapped to each of his upper arms. On his back is a primitive looking backpack that appears to be made to hold his hunting spear as well as traveling supplies. His boots tie to just below the knee and have no heel, and have several small bones as clasps to hold them together. Background: Outlander (Hunter-Gatherer) Personality Traits: I am proud of my status within my tribe, and only compare myself to other warriors. I have a strong respect for tradition and one's ancestors. I feel far more comfortable outdoors than surrounded by four walls. Ideal: Honor. If I dishonor myself, I dishonor my whole clan. (Lawful) Bond: My tribe is the most important thing in my life, even when they are far from me. I will avenge the death of my wife. Flaw: I am ignorant to the ways of polite society and civilization, and have a tendency to do or say improper things. Hometown: The western Forest of Wyrms, near Soubar. Backstory: Despite his young age Toffindin is considered one of the finest hunters and warriors of the Bone Men, a small close-knit tribe of approximately three dozen who reside in the Forest of the Wyrms on the western side near Soubar. They are semi-nomadic depending on the seasons, with the men primarily hunting for game and the women foraging and rearing children. Although not outwardly aggressive for expansion, it is well known in Soubar to give their territory a wide berth lest you find one of their arrows in your back. They are not immediately hostile towards outsiders, but they are very protective of their tribe and have no qualms about killing an outsider if they feel it is necessary for their own survival. Toffindin killed his first outsider when he was but ten summers old, and as is their custom when one makes their first kill in defense of the tribe he ate his cooked flesh to gain his strength and wisdom. This ritual signifies his manhood in the tribe, and two summers ago he was married to his beloved wife Calelan. Her long black hair was the softest he has ever felt, and her gray eyes reminded him of the strength of the wolf (a sacred spirit in his tribe). With this marriage he was now one of the elders of his tribe, and being the best hunter of the elders brought him much status. Combined with the love of his life, and Toffindin had never been happier. That was, until the dragon came. Most of the men had been out hunting that morning - what few men remained behind were typically too young for the hunt or the elderly. None had ever seen this dragon before, nor had none seen it since. Some said the dragon attacked first, others said they fired arrows at it to scare it off like they have done with the green scaled dragons before. But this white dragon was different. It killed many of their women and children with the ice from its breath, including Calelan. This devastated the tribe and destroyed Toffindin's life - all that was good had been damaged by this white dragon. When the elders met and Toffindin demanded to take a hunting party after it, the other elders refused - there were too many lost from the attack already, and even a small hunting party would draw too much of their strength away from their lands. That is when Toffindin swore he himself would find this white dragon and bring its scale back to show the Bone Men that their enemy was dead. Toffindin gave his word that he would either die trying or he would return successfully - there was no in between. Since then, Toffindin has been able to track the white dragon towards the Sword Mountains through evidence of its hunting and the words of those passing by. He knows it is almost a suicide mission to chase a dragon by himself, but in his eyes he has nothing else to live for but to avenge his wife and tribe for the great injustice caused to them.

 

Rolls and Actions Action Summary: Move: Action: Reaction: Bonus Action: Object Interaction:

 

Stats Toffindin of the Bone Men (Character Sheet) Variant Human | Ranger 2 | Outlander | Feats: Sharpshooter. HP: 20/20 | Armor Class: 14 | Saves: Str +3 / Dex +5 / Con +2 / Int 0 / Wis +2 / Cha -1 Senses: Initiative +3, Passive Perception 14, Passive Investigation 12. Move: 30' | Conditions: None. Languages: Common, Tamaloan (Bone Men language), Sylvan. Tool Proficiencies: Musical Instrument (Drums). Attack Bonuses: Melee +3 | Ranged +5 Weapons: Longbow: +7 strike | 1D8+3 piercing damage | Range 150/600. Arrows 20/20. Spear | +3 strike (+5 if thrown) | 1D6+1 piercing damage (+3 if thrown) | Range 20/60. Dagger x2 | +5 strike | 1D4+3 piercing damage | Range 20/60. Trained Skills: Athletics +3. Investigation +2. Nature +2. Perception +4. Stealth +5. Survival +4. Spells: (DC 12, +4 spell attack bonus)(1 - 2/2) (1) Goodberry. Hunter's Mark. Special Abilities: Favored Enemy (Beasts): Advantage on Survival checks to track, advantage on INT checks to recall info about them. Natural Explorer (Forests): INT/WIS checks related to this terrain receive double proficiency bonus. If traveling for >1 hour in terrain - difficult terrain does not slow group travel; cannot become lost except by magical means; remains alert to danger even if doing another activity; if alone, can move stealthily at normal pace; finds twice as much food when foraging; when tracking, knows exact number and size as well as how long ago they passed through the area. Fighting Style (Archery): +2 attack rolls when using ranged weapons.

[Lashiec]

Toffindin is ready for combat!

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[Still_Pond]

(image credit: Banjiu E'vik)

Name: Gael,
Red-Maned daughter of Mairead of the Red Tiger shield maidens.
Class: Barbarian (Ancestral Guardian)
Race: Human (variant: shield master feat)
Character sheet

Physical Description:
Her red hair shines as if lit by morning sunshine even if it is cloudy out and Her green eyes challenge all who meet her gaze. She wears practical clothing of quality leather and furs, well suited to life in the wilds. Second only to her fierce eyes is her red shield that is rimed with a tiger claw design. In the center of the shield is carved a tribal design of an angry tiger.

 

Background: Outlander/custom
Traits:
I watch over my friends as if they were a litter of newborn cubs.
I get bitter if I'm not the center of attention.
Ideal: If I dishonor myself, I dishonor my whole clan.
Bond: I guide the spirits, not the other way around.
Flaw: There is no room for caution in a life lived to the fullest.

Concept: Angsty shield-maiden in search of self while also haunted by tormented spirts.

Her story:
Raised by the shield maidens of the Red Tiger tribe, her red hair marked Gael from birth as an ancestral guardian. The songs told of an ancestral mound that was desecrated, dug up and destroyed by a greedy dragon who sought revenge on the red-headed warriors entombed there. When the mound was destroyed, it untethered the spirts of the mound. It is said that when these spirits choose their champion, that person is marked by a red main.

The shield maidens were highly regarded within the Red Tiger clan in their own right. They clamed the region around the Rainbow Gorge, the exit if the River of Rauvin, as their territory. Red Tiger clan Warriors from the Cold Wood would venture to the falls to trade or ask for the maiden's aid with important hunts or raids. As one marked to be sacred ancestral guardian, young Gael was groomed from birth to be a great warrior. While she was granted the best teachers, never went hungry, had the best clothing, slept alongside the most senior maidens, she was never an equal. She was not seen as a friend or just Gael, but always a red-mane, a chosen one, a potential conduit to the lost great ancestors.

After two decades, she was strong enough to undergo the awakening ritual, a physically intensive ordeal that would awaken the spirits bound to her. She had not been prepared for what that actually meant. The spirits attacked her like ferocious tigers rending her soul. They were not benevolent guiding entities, but rather raw untethered rage. Her nights were full of being hunted by wraiths, their screams haunting her waking days. Her whole life she had been taught that this link was a gift, but it was, in fact, a curse. Those around her changed as well. Now that the spirits had been awakened, she could see through the veil masking her tribe's own selfish desires. Gael was little more to them than a conduit to their ancestors; spirits they hoped might grant guidance, status or power. There was an undercurrent of envy as well, and the more Gael was unable to grant what the maidens felt entitled to, the more she felt like their gaze on her was like that of the great cats they hunted. So she left. Her nightmares subsided, just a little, with every league she traveled away from her ancestral homeland.

Personality:
Confident and fearless, and at times, a little residual entitlement. She makes rash decisions, trusting in her own ability and spiritual purpose a little too much. She is a protector at her core though, and always puts the need of her allies above her own. She won't be ignored, in a battle or otherwise; good or bad, she craves attention as if she's overcompensating for a lifetime of not living up to expectations.

What is their over-arching goal? To get control of the spirits and carve out a meaningful purpose. She was chosen, but is up to her to understand why and what to do with this spiritual bond. Her short term goal is self discovery, away from the influence of her tribe. Her long-term goal is to one day return and be the leader they wanted in her, but only if she can do so on her own terms.

Another goal might be to possibly soothe the spirits. Maybe the dragon took ancestral shields from the mound. If she recovers them, maybe buries them again, the souls might once again be at peace. (possible plot hook)

Also, the perceived judgment or desire from her clan may or may not be real. It is possible the spirits influenced her a bit, but she is unaware of this.

---

 

Insert narrative text here.

 

Stats (Character Sheet) Gael of the Red Tiger Shield Maidens | (Shield Master feat)Variant Human | Barbarian 3 AC: 18 | HP: 35/35 | Saves: Str +4, Dex +3, Con +5, Int -1, Wis 0, Cha -1 | Hit Dice spent: 0/3d12 Senses: Passive Perception 12, Passive Investigation 9 Languages: Common, Draconic, Giant Speed: 30' | initiative (+3): ? Conditions: None. Inspiration? None Skills: acrobatics (dex) +5, animal handling (wis) 0, arcana (int) -1, athletics (str) +4, deception (cha) -1, history (int) -1, insight (wis) 0, intimidation (cha) +1, investigation (int) -1, medicine (wis) 0, nature (int) -1, perception (wis) +2, performance (cha) -1, persuasion (cha) -1, religion (int) -1, sleight of hand (dex) +3, stealth (dex) +5, survival (wis) 0, Musical Instrument: (tin whistle (dex?))(cha) +1 Weapons: Battleaxe (str): +4 to hit | 1d8+2 slashing | Versatile (1d10) Whip (using dex): +5 to hit | 1d4+3 slashing | finesse, reach Hand Axes (str) +4 to hit | 1d6+2 slashing | light, thrown, range | range: 20/60 | Quantity: 2/2 Darts (using dex): +5 to hit | 1d4+3 piercing | finesse, thrown, range | range: 20/60 | Quantity: 6/6 Javelins (str): +4 to hit | 1d6+2 piercing | thrown, range | range: 30/120 | Quantity: 4/4 Special Abilities: Bonus action on your turn; Advantage on STR checks and saves; +2 dmg on STR Melee weapon attacks; Resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage;Your rage lasts for 1 minute. It ends early if you are knocked Unconscious or if Your Turn ends and you haven't attacked a Hostile creature since your last turn or taken damage since then. You can also end your rage on Your Turn as a Bonus Action, Long Rest to rechargeRage (daily used: 0/3) | While you are not wearing any armor, your Armor Class equals 10 + your Dexterity modifier + your Constitution modifier. You can use a Shield and still gain this benefit.Unarmored Defense | first Attack on Your Turn, you can decide to Attack recklessly. Doing so gives you advantage on melee weapon Attack rolls using Strength during this turn, but Attack rolls against you have advantage until your next turn.Reckless Attack | Advantage on DEX saves vs effects I can seeDanger Sense | Primal Path (Path of the Ancestral Guardian) | You have an excellent memory for maps and geography, and you can always recall the general layout of terrain, settlements, and other features around you. In addition, you can find food and fresh water for yourself and up to five other people each day, provided that the land offers berries, small game, water, and so forth.Wanderer   RAGE!!! Can enter rage on your turn as a bonus action. While raging, you gain the following benefits if you aren't wearing heavy armor: • You have advantage on Strength checks and Strength Saving Throws. • When you make a melee weapon Attack using Strength, you gain a +2 bonus to the damage roll. • You have Resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage. If you are able to cast Spells, you can't cast them or concentrate on them while raging. Your rage lasts for 1 minute (10 rounds). It ends early if you are knocked Unconscious or if Your Turn ends and you haven't attacked a Hostile creature since your last turn or taken damage since then. You can also end your rage on Your Turn as a Bonus Action. Once you have raged the maximum number of times for your Barbarian level, you must finish a Long Rest before you can rage again. You may rage 2 times at 1st Level, 3 at 3rd, 4 at 6th, 5 at 12th, and 6 at 17th.   ⛊ Shield Master You use shields not just for protection but also for offense. You gain the following benefits while you are wielding a shield: • If you take the Attack action on your turn, you can use a bonus action to try to shove a creature within 5 feet of you with your shield. Shoving a Creature Using the Attack action (⛊ bonus action with shield master feat), you can make a Special melee Attack to shove a creature, either to knock it prone or push it away from you. If you’re able to make multiple attacks with the Attack action, this Attack replaces one of them. The target must be no more than one size larger than you and must be within your reach (⛊ 5'). Instead of making an Attack roll, you make a Strength (Athletics) check contested by the target’s Strength (Athletics) or Dexterity (Acrobatics) check (the target chooses the ability to use). *Note* Rage grants advantage on this check. If you win the contest, you either knock the target prone or push it 5 feet away from you. prone •A prone creature’s only Movement option is to (Every foot of movement while crawling costs 1 extra foot.)crawl, unless it (using half their movement)stands up and thereby ends the condition. •The creature has disadvantage on Attack rolls. •An Attack roll against the creature has advantage if the attacker is within 5 feet of the creature. Otherwise, the Attack roll has disadvantage. • If you aren't incapacitated, you can add your shield's AC bonus to any Dexterity saving throw you make against a spell or other harmful effect that targets ONLY you. (*note* If effect is visible then this would likely be at advantage due to Danger Sense.) • If you are subjected to an effect that allows you to make a Dexterity saving throw to take only half damage, you can use your REACTION to take no damage if you succeed on the saving throw, interposing your shield between yourself and the source of the effect. *note* If effect is visible then this would likely be at advantage due to Danger Sense.   Ancestral Protectors Starting when you choose this path at 3rd level, spectral warriors appear when you enter your rage. While you’re raging, the first creature you hit with an attack on your turn becomes the target of the warriors, which hinder its attacks. Until the start of your next turn, that target has disadvantage on any attack roll that isn't against you, and when the target hits a creature other than you with an attack, that creature has resistance to the damage of the target’s attacks.

 

Actions Move: Action: Free Object Interaction: Bonus Action: Reaction:

 

[FIELDSET="[img]https://i.imgur.com/ftPU4Ce.png[/img]"]


[/FIELDSET]
[SPOILERBUTTON="stats"][FIELDSET="Out of Combat Stats"][B]Gael[/B] [size="1"] | [TT="Variant "](Shield Master feat)[/TT]Human | Barbarian 3 (Path of the Ancestral Guardian)
[SIZE="1"]([URL="https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=89393"]Character Sheet[/URL]) ([URL="https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthread.php?p=9267564#post9267564"]Team Roster Page[/URL])[/size]
[B][COLOR="DarkRed"]AC:[/COLOR][/B] 18 | [B][COLOR="darkred"]HP:[/COLOR][/B] 35/35 | [B] [COLOR="darkred"]Saves:[/COLOR][/B] Str +4, Dex +3, Con +5, Int -1, Wis 0, Cha -1 | Passive Perception 12, Passive Investigation 9
[b][U][TT="Skills"][B]acrobatics[/B] [I](dex)[/I] +5[/COLOR], [B]animal handling[/B] [I](wis)[/I] 0, [B]arcana[/B] [I](int)[/I] -1, [COLOR="#57291a"][B]athletics[/B] [I](str)[/I] +4[/COLOR], [B]deception[/B] [I](cha)[/I] -1, [B]history[/B] [I](int)[/I] -1,[B] insight[/B][I] (wis)[/I] 0,
[COLOR="#57291a"][B]intimidation[/B] [I](cha)[/I] +1[/COLOR], [B]investigation[/B] [I](int)[/I] -1, [B]medicine[/B] [I](wis)[/I] 0, [B]nature [/B][I](int)[/I] -1, [COLOR="#57291a"][B]perception [/B][I](wis)[/I] +2[/COLOR], [B]performance [/B][I](cha) [/I]-1, [B]persuasion[/B][I] (cha)[/I] -1, [B]religion[/B] [I](int)[/I] -1,
[B]sleight of hand [/B][I](dex)[/I] +3, [COLOR="#57291a"][B]stealth[/B] [I](dex)[/I] +5[/COLOR], [B]survival[/B] [I](wis)[/I] 0,[COLOR="#57291a"] [B]Musical Instrument:[/B] [I](tin whistle (dex?))(cha)[/I] +1[/COLOR][/TT][/U][/b] | [B]Inspiration?[/B] [COLOR="DarkRed"]None[/COLOR][/size]
[/fieldset][/SPOILERBUTTON]

[Pinotage]

Application for Khala Vith, Half-orc Fighter (Battle Master) Name: Khala Vith Race: Half-orc Class: Fighter (Battle Master) Background: Mercenary Veteran Personality Trait: I face problems head-on. A simple, direct solution is the best path to success (AKA The best way is the orcish way) Personality Trait: I can stare down a hell hound without flinching (AKA An orc does not fear a challenge) Ideal: Independence. When people follow orders blindly, they embrace a kind of tyranny (Chaotic) (AKA Nothing tells an orc what to do) Bond: Those who fight beside me are those worth dying for (AKA The strongest orc gives everything for the tribe) Flaw: I'd rather eat my armor than admit when I'm wrong (AKA Nothing tells an orc they're wrong) Appearance: Tall and powerful, Khala is a tower of strength. Her orcish face has a strong jawline, with a thick flat nose and the pointed ears of her heritage. Her tusks are small, yellowed points of sharpness jutting forth from her dark green lips. Her eyes are deep green, hiding the mystery of her character, revealing little about her thoughts and desires. Her hair is dark, short and straited with grey, symbols of her growing age and years of hardship in war and prison. Beneath her armor, her skin in marked with scars which she bears proudly, though her left forearm is always covered in thick leather straps and cords that hide the branding of her time in prison. Focusing more on a defensive style in battle, she wields a great shield, fighting now with a more intelligent style than the brutality normally expected from her heritage. She lives more by intimidation than kindness, but her voice is clear, intelligent despite the orcish accent to her use of language. Personality: Khala is battle-born and gruff, and the orcish part of her heritage is difficult to remove. But, she understands compassion, kindness and love, despite these characteristics not coming naturally to her. By nature she is more competitive, aiming to prove herself the best and the strongest, and she is always willing to accept challenges that prove her as such. She understands and values loyalty and has a keen interest in collecting more coin to further her purpose in starting her own mercenary company. She is a keen collector of battle and war stories, a teller of tales, though not studious or learned in any way. She distrusts magic and the divine, instead putting her faith in steel. She has come to terms with her past and the shame she had to endure as a prisoner of war. Her sense of humour is crude, but she does like a good laugh. She can be rancorous at times when her progress towards glory is slow. She is the kind of person that is good to have on one's side, and who one doesn't want to stand against. Hometown: Neverwinter   Backstory: Khala doesn't remember much of her youth other than the rage. The aggression. Most half-orcs don't survive very long among the roaming orcish tribes, but Khala's temperament fitted right in. She excelled at bloodlust, at plunder, at war. She was in some ways the epitome of the orcish way, taking the benefits of her human heritage and applying them to blood and battle. She doesn't remember the name of the tribe, or where they'd operated from when she was but growing into her full stature. Names, places, strategy; those were of no interest to one that enjoyed plunder. Enjoyed cruelty. Revelled in hurting. Which is probably why, even among orcs, she became feared and hated, although she remembered it as worship. Jealousy of her rise and her achievements. The best spoils were hers, one of the tribe's finest warriors. Hailed even by the chiefs of the tribe, each scar on her body a testament to her prowess. For a race so short-lived, she was fuelled by her achievements. Her name would be remembered. And then she'd ended up in prison. That's when her memories begin to clear. The rage of battle, the smoke and flame, the harshness of spilt blood turned her into a prisoner of war. Stripped of all she held dear, branded on her forearm with a mark of shame amongst the glory of her scars. She'd somehow ended in Neverwinter she'd later learnt, in the great prison in the Peninsula district. Suffered endless questions about the war on the way there. Broken tusk and bone on steel grates in an attempt to escape. It was not an easy time for one used to victory, used to the taste of blood. So she reverted to what she knew in the prison. Sought out the fight, engaged all those that she could in battle. Sometimes winning, sometimes sleeping with the taste of blood in her mouth and the hurt all over her body. It wasn't war or battle, but it was what she knew. All the fights, the hurt and the pain honed her skills and taught her about battle. Over the years she'd become formidable in her own way. Remembered in the prison. Respected. Revered. Sometimes even feared. But Khala had become smarter, perhaps more in touch with her human side. Not so angry, not so dependant on her rage. When her time was up, the war long forgotten, and many years of a short life gone, she'd been released under the care of a mercenary company. They'd said that prison had redeemed her and changed her, but Khala felt that prison had shaped her into something even better, like a whetstone on steel. Life in the mercenary company, under constant surveillance, tempered Khala's spirit, both through the demands of the company's experiences and through the bearing of witness to atrocities committed. She relished the challenges, but came to accept that blood was not always the answer. The plight of the weak and feeble she could understand, although perhaps never empathise with. She learnt that coin was an altogether different master and while it could not dampen her enjoyment of battle, the swill of wine and ale, along with heaps of meat had their own allure. And this became her life, one she enjoyed, even if mercenary companies didn't last long and she was forced to jump from company to company. Over time, she earned her freedom, but she remained to enjoy the pleasures of war and battle. Khala's latest venture had been less than successful on a mission through the foothills surrounding the Sword Mountains. Some had died, others had fled, and even the company commander had decided to pack in the mission and return to their benefactor. Khala did not have time for cowardice. So she'd left, finding her way to the small town of Phandalin, a mining town of some sorts, though involved in other activities on the frontier. Not the best place to find more work in a mercenary company, but not the worst either. She'd heard that a company of sorts had operated out of Phandalin in the past, the Redbrands. She wasn't sure it still existed, but there would always be other work. At least now, she was free, free of the rage of her youth, of the shame of her captivity. Perhaps this would be the dawning of a new age, where she would rise to become commander of her own company, with coin to spare. An age where she would be famous and her company only taking the best and strongest. Perhaps an orcish dream, but she was more than an orc. She was human and orc, and in battle, the best parts of both.

Statblock   Actions Initiative: Move: Action: Bonus Action: Reaction: Active Effect: Status: Contingencies: Notes: Khala Vith Level 3 Fighter (Battle Master) | Half-orc | Khala Vith HP: 31/31 | HD: 3/3 | AC: 18 | | Speed: 30 ft. | Passive Perception: 11 | Initiative: +1 Background Feature: You know the mercenary life as only someone who has experienced it can. You are able to identify mercenary companies by their emblems, and you know a little about any such company, including who has hired them recently. You can find the taverns and festhalls where mercenaries abide in any area, as long as you speak the language. You can find mercenary work between adventures sufficient to maintain a comfortable lifestyle.Mercenary Life Abilities: When you are wielding a melee weapon in one hand and no other weapons, you gain a +2 bonus to damage rolls with that weapon.Fighting Style (Dueling) | You have a limited well of stamina that you can draw on to protect yourself from harm. On your turn, you can use a bonus action to regain hit points equal to 1d10 + your fighter level. Once you use this feature, you must finish a short or long rest before you can use it again.Second Wind 1/1 | You can push yourself beyond your normal limits for a moment. On your turn, you can take one additional action. Once you use this feature, you must finish a short or long rest before you can use it again.Action Surge 1/1 | You have four superiority dice, which are d8s. A superiority die is expended when you use it. You regain all of your expended superiority dice when you finish a short or long rest.Combat Superiority 4/4 | When you make a weapon attack roll against a creature, you can expend one superiority die to add it to the roll. You can use this maneuver before or after making the attack roll, but before any effects of the attack are applied.Manuever: Precision Attack | When a creature misses you with a melee attack, you can use your reaction and expend one superiority die to make a melee weapon attack against the creature. If you hit, you add the superiority die to the attack's damage roll.Manuever: Riposte | When you hit a creature with a weapon attack, you can expend one superiority die to attempt to frighten the target. You add the superiority die to the attack's damage roll, and the target must make a Wisdom saving throw. On a failed save, it is frightened of you until the end of your next turn.Manuever: Menacing Attack Racial Traits: Thanks to your orc blood, you have superior vision in dark and dim conditions. You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. You can't discern color in darkness, only shades of gray.Darkvision | When you are reduced to 0 hit points but not killed outright, you can drop to 1 hit point instead. You can't use this feature again until you finish a long rest.Relentless Endurance 1/1 | When you score a critical hit with a melee weapon attack, you can roll one of the weapon's damage dice one additional time and add it to the extra damage of the critical hit.Savage Attacks Feats: None Proficient Skills: Athletics +5 | Insight +3 | Intimidation +1 | Perception +3 | Persuasion +1 Languages: Common, Orc Weapons: Battleaxe (Melee) (to hit: +5, damage: 1d8+5), Warhammer (Melee) (to hit: +5, damage: 1d8+5), Light Crossbow (Ranged) (to hit: +3, damage: 1d8+1) Abilities Str Dex Con Int Wis Cha Score: 16 13 16 10 12 8 Modifier: +3 +1 +3 +0 +1 -1 Saves: +5 +1 +5 +0 +1 -1