Gittik's page

About Gittik

STR 18 (+4)
DEX 17 (+3)
CON 16 (+3)
INT 12 (+1)
WIS 10 (+0)
CHA 10 (+0)

HP: 132 (1)
AC: 25
Initiative: +3
Move: 30'
XP: not sure....

Saves:
Fort: +16
Ref: +9
Will: +6
+2 Save v Fear

Favoured Class: Barbarian
Bonus: Hit points

Special: Fast Movement, Rage (22 rounds/day), Rage Powers (Scent, Low-Light Vision, Night Vision, Swift Foot, Increased DR), Semi-illiterate, Uncanny Dodge, Trap Sense +3, Improved Uncanny Dodge, DR 2/-, Greater Rage

Kukri (RH): +20/+15/+10 to hit (+18/+17/+8 when Two Weapon Fighting), 1d3+7 damage, 15-20/x2
Kukri (LH): +18/+13 to hit (+16/+11 when Two Weapon Fighting), 1d3+3+1d6 damage, 15-20/x2
Javelin: +15 to hit, 1d4+4 damage, x2

CMB: +14
CMD: +27

Feats: Two Weapon Fighting, Blind Fighting, Improved Two Weapon Fighting, Improved Critical (Kukri), Dodge, Weapon Focus (Kukri)

Skills: Acrobatics*' +16 (9 ranks), Climb*' +16 (7 ranks), Intimidate' +14 (11 ranks), Perception' +8 (3 ranks), Stealth* +16 (9 ranks), Survival' +6 (3 ranks), Swim*' +10 (3 ranks)
*Armour Check Penalty applies
'Class Skill

Money: 1692gp
Equipment: Mithril Chain Shirt +2, Ring of Protection +2, Kukri +3, Adamantine Shocking Kukri +1, Silver Dagger +1, Belt of Physical Might +2 (STR/CON), Cloak of Resistance +3, Amulet of Natural Armour +2, 5 Javelins, 3 Potions of Cure Serious Wounds, Backpack, Waterskin, 8 days rations, Flint and Steel, 5 Torches, Bedroll, Amulet, Puppet, Owlbear Doll, Royal Outfit, Blue Scarf from Jane
Weight: 26lbs, Capacity: 49lbs, Load: Light

Stats when raging:
STR 24 (+7)
DEX 17 (+3)
CON 22 (+6)
INT 12 (+1)
WIS 10 (+0)
CHA 8 (-1)

HP: 165 (current 24)
AC: 23
Move: 35'
DR: 3/-
Rounds spent raging: 0

Saves:
Fort: +19
Ref: +9
Will: +9
+2 Save v Fear

Kukri (RH): +23/+18/+13 to hit (+21/+16/+11 when Two Weapon Fighting), 1d3+10 damage, 15-20/x2
Kukri (LH): +21/+16 to hit (+19/+14 when Two Weapon Fighting), 1d3+4+1d6 damage, 15-20/x2
Javelin: +14 to hit, 1d4+7 damage, x2

CMB: +17
CMB: +30

Background
Gittik was a proud warrior of the Kneecapper tribe, happiest when sneaking up with his fellow goblin warriors to slit the throats of the sleeping merchants foolish enough to camp in the dank, tangled forest where he lived. He was the son of the chief, and so a "big goblin", and was respected and feared both for his daring exploits and his savage rages when crossed. No one dared stand against him.

One day, in the caverns where he lived, his father, Chief Bagrom the Underhanded, took him to one side. "Son," he said, "There are some things I need to tell you. They may come as a shock. Are you ready?"

Putting a paternal arm around Gittik's shoulder (Gittik started momentarily, wondering if his father was about to use a concealed weapon, but Bagrom simply continued to chat in a friendly fashion) the goblin chief led him deeper into the caves to a quiet spot where they could talk.

"Gittik, you know you are my favorite child. But now is the time for you to know. You are not in fact the fruit of my manly loins. In fact, you are not even a goblin. That pinkness to your skin - it's not actually a horrid disease like you think, but the natural way you are. Son, you are a halfling."

This was a shattering revelation to Gittik, but there was more. His father continued, "Let me tell you how you came to the tribe. A caravan passed along the Old Road, and stopped in the woods. I was a young goblin then, having just become chief after my father, Jorm the Careless, had had his accident. So, what were we to do? What we always do, of course - we attacked!

"The wagons were small - goblin sized, but instead filled with stinking, soft-skinned halflings (no offence). Our mighty warriors swept down from the forest and we put them to the spear, the sword and the sock filled with sand. They could not prevail against us, and were overwhelmed. Soon most of them were dead, with only two left, a male who fought like a demon, and a female carrying a small bundle who huddled beside him. But even they could not resist, and we killed them too.

"I looked at the bundle the woman was carrying, and found a tiny, squirming halfling baby. 'Great!' I said, 'Spitroast!' But our great shaman at that time, Keshmar, who had accompanied us to bless the fight, suddenly cried out.

"'I have a vision, a prophecy!' The sage danced clumsily, arms raised, eyes rolled back so we could only see the whites. 'The tiny one will go on to great exploits. His destiny is vast, his deeds will shake nations. He was meant to be found here, by our tribe. The Kneecappers are to be the crucible in which shall be forged a warrior that none has seen before, a shining hero. He must not be harmed, lest Maglubyet smite us all!' He then settled back and took another deep drag on his meditation pipe, before declaiming, 'Hee, hee, butterflies!'

"Well, as I'm sure you appreciate, we were all disappointed not to get our spitroast. (But at least we got the heads of our foes to adorn my throne. Your mum and dad are the two small ones on the far left, by the way - thought you would like to know.) Against my then-better instincts, I took you as my own, determined to make a warrior of you or kill you in the process. But the great witchdoctor (for once) spoke true. You have been a huge asset to the tribe - you are the most vicious and cunning of my sons, have slain many foes, and made me truly proud."

Bagrom handed Gittik a small amulet. "This was around you neck when we found you. Look closely."

Gittik gazed deeply at the thing - a strange bronze disc with five holes bored into it and covered in (to him) unintelligible scrawlings, and a strap of braided golden hair. As he peered, momentarily distracted, he received a sudden shove from his father and spilled over the edge of a sinkhole, crashing down to a tunnel in a lower level of the warren.

"Ah, sorry about that Gittik. You see, you are a mighty warrior. Far too mighty. Soon you would be challenging me and I can't have that, prophecy or no prophecy. Since no one goblin can challenge your might, I lined up your five brothers to do it instead. Get him, boys!"

As Bagrom's voice faded from above, Gittik's siblings emerged from the dark. But Gittik stood proud in a small pool of light that shone down from a crack in the rock. He smote left and right, right and left, until his arms were drenched in the blood of his enemies. In the end, his cowardly brothers either fell to his blades or fled into the dark. Wounded and alone, Gittik navigated the tunnels he had learned over many years to traverse by touch, eventually coming out far from the main entrance to his former lair. Emerging blinking into the sunlight, he ran and ran, putting distance between himself and his erstwhile family.

A halfling...... The implications were almost too vast to grasp - he had never known anything but the forest and killing. At first he hid but discovered that, unlike he was taught, the people outside the forest did not try to kill him on sight. Able to mix on the fringes of civilised society, making a living by thievery and occasional banditry, he was able to pick up a smattering of their Common tongue.

And he discovered there was an alternative to violence and hatred. Some of the people actually seemed to like one another. It was not just a case of beating down the weak and toadying to the strong. Sometimes people did nice stuff, just because they felt like it. A revelation indeed, and one to ponder....

But Gittik wasn't the pondering type, needs must, and he was barely getting by. He heard about a place called Saltmarsh, where they needed fighters. Fighting was his only skill, and he needed a new tribe. Perhaps the Saltmarsh tribe would be the place for him. Clutching his mysterious amulet, he set off towards the coast.