About Jack Ciarathan
Male half-elf Ranger (Skirmisher) 2/Rogue (Sniper) 1
INITIATIVE : +5 (+3 Dex, +2 trait)
HIT POINTS 17(2d10 ranger, -1 con, +1 favored class + 1d8 ) current HP 17, rested after birdling cave
(add +1 to any save vs. fire)
BAB +2 CMB +3
MELEE: Short sword To hit: +5, Crit: 19-20/x2, Damage 1d6+1
RANGED: Longbow To hit +5, Crit: 20/x3, Damage 1d8
Sneak Attack: +1d6 damage whenever rogue is flanking or when Dex bonus to AC is denied. Ranged within 30 feet.
Accuracy (Ex): At 1st level, a sniper halves all range increment penalties when making ranged attacks with a bow or crossbow.
Point Blank Shot (1st level feat)
+1 to attack and damage with a ranged weapon if target is within 30’
Precise Shot (ranger bonus feat)
Weapon Finesse (3rd level feat)
Skill Focus (half-elf bonus feat)
Adopted: Human -- World Traveler
Half-elves can see twice as far as humans in conditions of dim light.
Weapon and Armor Proficiencies
All simple and martial weapons, light armor, medium armor and shields (but not tower shields).
(6 ranger + Int 1x2)(8 rouge + Int 1)
Acrobatics +7 (+3 Dex -1 ACP +3 class +2 rank)
Elven (if allowable)
Light Load: 50 lbs
Medium Load: 100 lbs
Heavy Load: 150 lbs (= lift over head, 2x lift off ground, 5x push/drag)
Hanging off Belt
Gear total weight is 45 lbs (light load)
Jack the infant was found squalling on a barren hillside near the trade road to the Salt Wastes, where the Ciarathan Clan merchant caravan often passed through. Although some of the caravanners saw the child’s pointed ears and assumed he was abandoned as he would bring bad fortune on those around him, a trader named Rowena took pity upon the infant and raised him as her own. She was a craftswoman and quick witted—and also quick with a blade when it came to defending the caravan. He never quite learned to emulate her charm, but certainly his reliance on his keenly sharpened instincts and readiness to defend himself and his comrades comes from her.
Raised traveling frequently back and forth, east to west along the trade routes, Jack took well to the road as his home. One of the caravan guards taught him to hunt and he became one of the clan’s providers when food supplies were used up too quickly or lost.
Jack’s best friend growing up was the son of a caravan guard, Arion. They often drifted off away from the caravan, chasing down a rabbit or seeking something odd they spotted off the road, laughing as they re-caught up with the caravan later. Arion was what Jack was not—open with joy and always talking—but yet Jack felt Arion was perhaps the only person besides his mother who was ever interested in listening to him. Etched on his heart is the horrible day when he and Arion ran off to bring down a few birds for dinner. Arion proudly held up the greywing, grin on his face—when an arrow suddenly seemed to sprout from the center of his chest. A vicious band of highwaymen, the Blooded Hands, had killed the boy for as much sport as they’d been shooting fowl. Arion drew a regular arrow and fired his bow in the direction of the attacker, dropping the highwayman where he stood, and ran for his life before reinforcements followed up. It was the one day he’d been caught off guard, he hadn’t been alert, and he’d lost his only friend for it.
He dedicated himself from then on to protecting the caravan from highwaymen, and though he never enjoyed killing anyone, he did take a small, dark pleasure particularly when downing or capturing members of the Blooded Hand. And though it wasn’t his primary motivation, he bit of coin he earned on bounties for some of the more dangerous criminals didn’t hurt either.
Despite his contributions to his clan, he was always well aware most even within his own community saw him as an outsider, a half-breed who belonged in no world of his own. This gap became all the more obvious after Arion died, some even blaming him for his death. No one was cruel to him, but most were at best coolly polite, perhaps appreciative for an individual deed but not as a rule. Though he did little wrong and had a compassionate—if sometimes rebellious—heart, bizarre misfortunes would sometimes be blamed upon him by suspicious elders, and he was never eloquent enough to defend himself well. Rowena’s sister Ria was particularly suspicious, though more to “punish” her sister for what she thought was a foolish decision to take him in, a score of years though it had been.
Visiting the city to turn in some choice parts for bounty, Jack heard about the expeditions to forge out new territory, and his heart leapt at the opportunity to carve out his own place in the world and see new roads he had had not yet traveled in his well-worn boots. Kissing his mother goodbye and leaving her a small braid of his hair to remember him by, he signed up before he could allow second thoughts to change his mind.
Jack is a slender, wiry fellow who moves silently and swiftly. His long crow-black hair is always adorned by a headband, which not only conveniently keeps his hair out of his eyes, but conceals the tips of his pointed elvish ears. He moves his head about constantly, always looking with vibrant green eyes for the unexpected. His naturally pale skin is weathered and turned golden from constant time spent outdoors.
He always keeps his bow with him, a lovely piece fashioned for him by a clansmember, and wears dusty leathers with a dull green cloak. A small sword sits at his hip, a pack slung over his shoulder as he is ever ready for travel.
Jack is a quiet, introspective sort—he takes great delight in observing all that’s around him and enjoys the company of others as much as solitude, but he does not show such enjoyment easily. He tends not to speak unless spoken to and fades in the background easily, which suits him just fine—he prefers not to draw attention to himself.
Those who know Jack know he has a good head on his shoulders with excellent instincts—essential for survival on the road and—anywhere else, really. He has trouble getting people to listen to him but those that do usually benefit from his advice.
Jack is not combative by nature but ready to fight if it means protecting his comrades. While he is proud of his good marksmanship, he takes no delight in killing, even of the highwaymen he cuts down in defense of his people. Whenever he kills for food, he remembers to thank the creature’s passing spirit as he does so.
Used to moving and always being on the alert for danger, he is a bit jumpy and remains "on guard" even in supposed times of relaxation.