About Dalton BarrowwheelStatistics:
Male Half-elf Primalist 9
LN Medium Humanoid (Human, Elf) Initiative +2; Senses Perception +2; Low-light vision 30’. ------------------------------ DEFENSE ------------------------------ AC 11, touch 11, flat-footed 10 (+1 dex) HP: 68 (1d6+CON/lvl = 11*CON + (6 + 5 + 4 + 3 + 2 + 6 + 4 + 2 + 3 + 6 + 5) Fort +6, Ref +5, Will +9 ( +2 vs. enchantments, sleep) ------------------------------ OFFENSE ------------------------------ Speed 30 ft. Telekinetic Fist (10/day)
Non-Standard Skill Bonuses
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Arcane School:
(Transmutation) (Opposed: Enchantment, Illusion)A wizard can choose to specialize in one school of magic, gaining additional spells and powers based on that school (transmutation)
A wizard that chooses to specialize in one school of magic must select two other schools as his opposition schools, representing knowledge sacrificed in one area of arcane lore to gain mastery in another. A wizard who prepares spells from his opposition schools (enchantment, illusion) must use two spell slots of that level to prepare the spell. For example, a wizard with evocation as an opposition school must expend two of his available 3rd-level spell slots to prepare a fireball. In addition, a specialist takes a –4 penalty on any skill checks made when crafting a magic item that has a spell from one of his opposition schools as a prerequisite. A universalist wizard can prepare spells from any school without restriction. Each arcane school gives the wizard a number of school powers. In addition, specialist wizards receive an additional spell slot of each spell level he can cast, from 1st on up. Each day, a wizard can prepare a spell from his specialty school in that slot. This spell must be in the wizard's spellbook. A wizard can select a spell modified by a metamagic feat to prepare in his school slot, but it uses up a higher-level spell slot. Wizards with the universalist school do not receive a school slot.
Physical Enhancement (Su):
You gain a +1 enhancement bonus to one physical ability score (Strength, Dexterity, or Constitution). This bonus increases by +1 for every five wizard levels you possess to a maximum of +5 at 20th level. You can change this bonus to a new ability score when you prepare spells. At 20th level, this bonus applies to two physical ability scores of your choice. Telekinetic Fist:
As a standard action you can strike with a telekinetic fist, targeting any foe within 30 feet as a ranged touch attack. The telekinetic fist deals 1d4 points of bludgeoning damage + 1 for every two wizard levels you possess. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Intelligence modifier. Change Shape (Sp):
You can change your shape for a number of rounds per day equal to your wizard level. These rounds do not need to be consecutive. This ability otherwise functions like beast shape II or elemental body I. At 12th level, this ability functions like beast shape III or elemental body II.[/url] Primal Magic (Su):
At 1st level, a primalist may attempt to channel primal magic as a swift action to cast a prepared spell without losing that spell from its spell slot. Essentially, a primalist is forcing primal magic into the world and attempting to shape it into a specific spell effect. To use this ability, she casts the spell as she would normally, but as the spell’s effects take place, she makes a concentration check (DC 20 + double the spell’s level). If she fails this check, she expends the spell normally as if she had cast it, but its actual effects are replaced by a primal magic event with a CR equal to her caster level and she is staggered for 1 round per level of the spell she was attempting to cast. If she makes this check, she casts the spell normally and it is not expended from her prepared spell slot, allowing her to cast that spell again at a later point.
You may use primal magic in this manner once per day. This ability replaces arcane bond. At 5th, 10th, 15th, and 20th level, you can use it an additional time per day. Enhance Primal Magic(Su):
At 5th level, when a primalist triggers a primal magic event, as a swift action she can increase or decrease its CR by 1. If she makes a concentration check (DC = 15 + the primal magic event’s CR), she can instead increase or decrease the CR by 2. If she reduces a primal magic event’s CR to less than 1, the event is negated. She can choose to use this ability after she determines what primal magic event she triggers, but before she resolves the effects of that event. Primal Surge (Su):
Whenever a primalist triggers a primal magic event, she rolls the percentile dice twice to determine the event that occurs and chooses which one of the two possible events occurs. She becomes resistant to the effects of primal magic events. Anytime an event would affect her, the GM rolls 1d20 + the event’s CR against a DC of 11 + her wizard level. If this roll fails, the event does not affect her, similar to a creature with spell resistance ignoring magical effects with an SR check. If the primal magic event is duplicating the effects of a spell that does not allow spell resistance (such as create pit), this resistance does not apply. Arcane Training:
Half-elves occasionally seek tutoring to help them master the magic in their blood. Half-elves with this racial trait have only one favored class, and it must be an arcane spellcasting class. They can use spell trigger and spell completion items for their favored class as if one level higher (or as a 1st-level character if they have no levels in that class). This racial trait replaces the multitalented racial trait. ------------------------------
Money 0 PP 0 GP 0 SP 0 CP (~0 pounds)
Background:
Dalton was cared-for as well as most could hope to be in times like these. He never knew his father, the parent responsible for his Elven heritage, but his human mother, Wendellia, cared for him dearly. She also cared for his older brother, who died prior to Dalton's birth, he was told, but at least the sickness didn't spread to him in the womb. His mother worked as a servant of the nobility in Andril. At first, she was a manorkeeper, but as the nobility had children, she was instead allocated as their instructor for manners and letters. While technically controlled by her betters, Wendellia never quarreled with them and did her duties with a smile. After all, she had hot food, a bed, and a roof over her head.
One day, Wendellia met a travelling arcanist. The elf was revered for his talent with light and sound, and he put on a marvelous performance for the estate's family that night. So alluring was the show, Wendellia was drawn to conversation with the elf ... and later his bedchamber. The following winter, Dalton was born. She never told him his father's name or anything about the performance. In fact, nobody could rememeber much about it - fireworks? smoke? - just that it was magnificent. And nobody knew the performer's name ... including Wendellia, a fact which disturbed her, but something she'd never admit to her son. At any rate, the young boy grew into a young man. He served the nobility as well, though he wasn't as complacent as his mother. Every so often, his complaints got him reprimands, slaps, and a few nights of hard labor. Fed-up with his mistreatment - which was, unbeknownst to Dalton, still better than most people - he bit his tongue and stewed silently. His resentment only grew over the years. Though he loved his mother, he saw her as trapped by her meager station under the tyrannical yoke of the family she served. He was permitted to sit in her lessons as a reward for halting his outbursts, but he found them boring. This wasn't because he had a short attention span, but rather because he found the lessons far too simple. None of the books really interested him, and he found his gaze wandering. One day, this attention noticed a rather ornate-looking tome sitting on an end-table with some parchments rolled on top. While his mother helped one of the denser dandies with their grammar, Dalton grabbed one of the papers and unrolled it. What a bunch of gibberish! It must have been in a different language, but the symbols were interesting... "What do you think you're doing, young man?" Behind him stood a wizened old man, gazing at him through spectacles in a rather angry fashion. His mother came rushing over with a worried look before Dalton could respond. "Magister Kellon... "I was looking at the patterns, my lord. It looks like the hook here isn't finished," Dalton spoke, pointing to a symbol near the bottom of the unfinished scroll. His geometrical observation just happened to be right; the magister hadn't quite finished his document. The man's stern expression softened considerably, and he smiled warmly. "What is your name, boy?" "Dalton, my lord. Barrowwheel." "I'm so sorry, he - " Wendellia began to apologize, but the man held up a hand. "No need, Wendy... he was right." With that, the man began to tutor the youth first in sums, then in the arcane. It turned-out Dalton took naturally to cantrips. However, the man's age was advanced, and he died before too many months elapsed. Most of the rest of the family found his association with the boy from the underclasses quite tasteless; the replacement magister would have nothing to do with Dalton, they ensured. And Dalton knew it. Furious at having the one thing he really cared about taken away from him, he ran off into the countryside. Dalton had no plan, nor did he have much in the way of resources. He didn't even have his spell"book" (only a few scant entries were in it). Sleeping on the cold ground that night did little for his spirits, and hunger setting-in the following afternoon forced his return to the estate. On the way back, however, a figure clad in dark garbs stepped-out from behind a tree and flung a woman with her hands tied behind her back to the ground. She was gagged and looked familiar... A knife was in his hand. "Another one of you? Heh, well you ain't goin' back to that manner, richy." The bandit had mistaken him for a runaway noble! Dalton panicked. He hadn't any weapons, and he couldn't outrun the obviously more athletic man. As the assailant closed the distance between them, he did the only thing he could think of - cast a spell. The most recent study he'd prepared before the magister had died was a way to move earth from one place to another - quite useful for a servant to have. In his nervousness though, he didn't follow the incantations properly - no earth moved. But ... a pit did form at the man's feet. With a surprised look, he fell into the pit - partially. His hands caught the edge. "What the hell is this? I was just gonna hold ya, but now you're getting a scratch of my friend here!" The man referred to his knife still clutched in his hand as he held the rim. "I... I'm sorry, don't hurt me! I'm just a serving boy!" Dalton finally looked into the pit as he cried out to the man... but it wasn't really a pit. Instead, a gray nothingness lay under the man's torso. And then it closed. As undistruptively as it opened, the land returned. The man's torso and logs did not though. With a shocked expression, the man turned his head down to look at the earth where his body should have been. No scream came for he had no lungs. Only the head, his hands, and the knife remained. The woman looked between Dalton and the victim in horror. Dalton grabbed the knife with shaking hands and cut her bindings; he was just as shaken-up, but his concern for her trumped his own fear. Recognition finally hit him: It was Ella, one of the noblewomen, recently engaged to someone or other. "Are you okay? She nodded. "I'm Dalton, one of the servants. Let's get back to the estate." They ran back together, but it was had in the dark, overcast clouds guarding the moonlight from them. It was the middle of the night before they were escorted inside by guards from the outskirts of the fields. Dalton had never seen so many people running about so nervous before. The closest thing he knew was the kitchen when a bird was undercooked at a feast! It was clear to him Ella was the reason for the worry. A bronze-skinned man with a sword in fancy clothing rushed forward to greet them. Or her, rather. Dalton was invisible. "My betrothed, you've returned. Where did you - " She slapped him. "Guards, get this monster away from me! His henchman nearly stabbed me to death in the wilds!" Confusion passed over both Dalton, the guards', and the fiance's faces. "Ella? We've been looking for you all evening!" "I'm sure you have, Henry. Is that why your dagger was going to be the one that cut my throat?!" "My what? Ella, you need to rest. I've -" "The serving boy has it still. Show them!" Dalton did as he was told. In his confusion, he looked at the dagger as he held it out to the approaching guards. Before it was taken from him, he saw the initials engraves in the jeweled handle: H.K. "But that's impossible! It was in my armor for the festival tourney! How could it...", and with that he was taken away. Dalton would learn the man was executed shortly thereafter. Whispers spread throughout the people Henry was framed. Deep down, Dalton knew it to be true. Ella hadn't a scratch on her from the "kidnapper". It was said she simply didn't want to be married-off, but annulling the wedding plans would be too great an affront for her family to stomach. If the groom were to attempt to kill her, however, it obviously wouldn't happen... Feeling sick from the inadvertent murder by his own hand and unwittingly abetting Ella's scheme, he sunk into depression. Having saved their young heiress, the family was kind to him for once, giving him plenty of food - and not just scraps. They moved him into the magister's vacant quarters. He took solace in his stomach, but he also learned a great deal about magister Kellow. Paulus Kellow was apparently Henry's grandfather, according to some of the effects and documents laying about the quarters. At least Dalton wouldn't have to face his tutor - it would have been too much. One day a season later, Ella approached him out of the blue. She began by smiling. "Dalton, is it? Thank you so much for helping out with that bad man a while back. I simply don't know what I would've done without you." There was no gratitude in her eyes though. "People are beginning to spin stories about that night. They have the audacity to think I had something to do with the whole thing!" She did a good job of sounding affronted. "You know the truth though. Help me set the story straight!" Ella rested her hand on his. "Speaking of which, I don't think we've - I've - done enough to thank you. My personal jeweler is getting old, and his fingers don't work as well as they once did. How does an apprenticeship sound?" Dalton said nothing, but then he felt his eyes on her. They burned into his soul, igniting the guilt within. Her beauty was like that of a succubus though... "Very good, my lady." It was nearly someone else speaking the words. He wanted nothing to do with that witch. "Wonderful! It will be splendid to have you around, Darren." She wasn't even looking at him when she got his name wrong, and before he could look after her, she was already out the door... Ella kept her word about the apprenticeship, and she was right about the jeweler. It was only 3 years before he retired. Another 2 before he died. Ella married-off a few years after that, and the husband survived. Dalton was disgusted by all of it though. The weddings, the gifts, the opulence ... he would never have any of it. Though he dealt in it daily, it merely passed-through his hands. The only riches he had were in the magical tests from his late tutor, but he was worked so long during the week, he had little time to go practice his studies. After what happened before, he dare not practice around others... A young man by the name of Geoffery came to live with them after a while. He was Ella's nephew, and Dalton was tasked with crafting a small signet ring for the little lord. Taking measurements one afternoon, Dalton found it hard to be revolted at the novice noble; even though he was part of them, he had done nothing to actually earn his ire. In fact, that may have been me were I born into them, thought Dalton. Over the years as the boy grew, the two talked on occasion. Every so often Geoffery would require ornamentation for this or that. Once he went off to join the military, Dalton realized how life was passing him by. Ella had long left to live with her husband, so Barrowwheel felt confident he would be released from service if he asked. He'd saved up some trinkets here and there he'd made as extras, secreted away some metal - he could set out on his own. Sure enough, the lord of the lair granted his wish - after all, Dalton was in his 60's now. Not much of his Elven heritage showed other than the ears, and the story of his dexterity failing was plenty enough to convince his superior. Not that he gives a damn anyway... Dalton set-up his own jewelry shop - "Barrowwheel's Bracelets". Before long, he'd quite a few customers and contacts. Hobnobbing visitors from Yenrick got him excellent contracts for supplies, and his personal knowledge of the nobility's preferences saw to it just the right pieces were available for the right occasions. As business grew, he treated himself - and his elderly mother - right. She was approaching 90, quite an accomplishment for a serf. He moved her into his shop's back room, taking care of her as best she could. She thought she was living in the lap of luxury, though Dalton still saw the treatment as sub-par. To think I silvered horseshoes for a parade... He came to realize it wasn't having coin that was the problem, but rather the enslavement (as he saw it) of people like himself. He vowed to break that barrier one day. As he did well for himself, every once in a while he could take a day or two to focus on his magic. It was slow going at first as the images from before haunted him. But he kept at his studies, and before long, he could do a variety of small tasks. However, he would need more time - and opportunity to practice - before he could advance further. When Geoffery came to him for medals one day, Dalton was pleasantly surprised by seeing his old acquaintance. When he discerned the reason behind these new medals, he saw an opportunity to make a name for himself, increase his wealth, and practice his talent all at the same time. And a merchant never overlooks an opportunity. Appearance and Personality:
It's not often one sees a fat person with Elven blood - even if only half - but that's Dalton. Years of culinary treats and lack of running about have given him girth. To match his waist's width, he sports a wide belt, the circumference of which is inlaid with silver threading. Clothing depends upon the occasion, however, and Dalton always has the appropriate garbs for whatever event he attends. Until now, that is. A suit of armor wasn't something in his wardrobe... Though a hair on the tall side, the jeweler doesn't use his size to look down on others with his emerald eyes.. His exterior disposition is generally pleasant (though what's going on beneath the surface may be quite different), as years of mercantile practice have taught him a happy customer is a buying customer. The same trade has also made him habitually carry a pair of spectacles or a monocle for precise tasks. Though not necessary for standard sight, he often like to keep them at the tip of his nose to complete the air of sophistication. While the man is flashy with clothes, however, he is the opposite regarding his magic with one exception: His lack of physical strength often pushes him to use mental might as an aide to carry things. "A spot of telekinesis never hurt anyone, and it's good for your back!" Relations: Daoogh: 6 One generally hears Dalton before she/he sees him. Though not a social butterfly at heart, the craftsman knows the importance of connections in the world and works diligently to keep up appearances. However, he sometimes is overly-opinionated at sensitive times - usually after too much wine. Speaking of which, there's generally a bottle not too far from him. And a wedge of cheese. And loaf of bread... A man enjoying his senses, Dalton is one split between the practical and the theoretical. While his station in life is comfortable enough, he seeks to change the feudal class system by his upward movement. Whether this means the jeweler must shake society or simply earn a title is undetermined as of yet, but his conviction is certain. Since accruing his magical talent, he's steadily increased his practice of the arcane, Barrowwheel has explored both the beaten path and the frontier. He actually finds research into the essence of magic itself most interesting, but this experimentation is mentally draining and time consuming; it's one of the things to which he looks forward in doing once he becomes wealthy enough to work less. Romance has a sour taste in his mouth. After seeing spouses use one another to advance themselves, he's decided wedlock isn't for him. The occasional strumpet though? That's another story.
Character Relations:
Daoogh the Baker: 6 Krokar the General: 6 Dalton's Original Spellbook Contents:
0th: (all)
2nd:
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0th: (all),
1st (7/7):
2nd: (7/7):
3rd
4th(5/5):
5th(4/4):
6th(3/3):
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