About Moira KeeningFun items to remember: Sleeves of Many Garments
Statistics:
Female Human Dirge Bard 3
NG Medium Humanoid Init +7; Senses Perception +5 ------------------------------ DEFENSE ------------------------------ AC 18, touch 11, flat-footed 16 (+4 armor, +2 abp, +1 dex, +1 shield) hp 48 Fort +4, Ref +6, Will +5 ------------------------------ OFFENSE ------------------------------ Speed 30 ft. Melee Longsword 1h 2 str + 3 BAB +1 mwk = +6, 1d8+2
Longsword 1h inspired +8, 1d8+4
Spell storing loaded with Chill Touch Ranged Sling +3 (1d4+2)
Traits Reactionary
Feats Improved Initiative
Skills:
Skills (7/level) Background Skills: Profession (Chef), Craft: (Calligraphy) Chain Shirt n' Buckler Penalty = -3 Acrobatics DEX -2 = 1 + -3
ACP -1 Languages Common Special Abilities:
------------------------------ SPECIAL ABILITIES ------------------------------ Bardic Performance 7 Rounds/Day
Bardic Knowledge Armored Casting Human: Skilled, Bonus Feat Spells:
------------------------------ Spells ------------------------------ 0th (at will) Light
1st (4/day) Hideous Laughter
2nd (2/day) Blindness/Deafness DC 16
Gear/Possessions:
------------------------------ GEAR/POSSESSIONS ------------------------------ Carrying Capacity Light 0-58 lb. Medium 59-116 lb. Heavy 116-175+ lb. Current Load Carried 51 lbsish Spell Storing Mwk Longsword
Money 96 GP Background:
Moira Keening has been operating under that trade name so long, it feels more real than the memories of when she was called something less grim—but the name acts as an advertisement for the young moirologist. Yes, she is a moirologist, a professional mourner, considered by some to be the flies attracted by the wealth of the recently deceased, but by others as a mark of respectability, a balm for the weary inarticulate soul who needs some way to externalize their grief. Like all great performers, Moira has mastered the art of reading her audience in order to hit just the right note on their heartstings—either using song, declamation, or dance. But her drum is her favorite tool. Grieving has certain tempos, as waves of misery break and recede over the bereaved, from the anguish that overwhelms the mind to the long periods of emptiness where the mourner might even for a moment forget what it is that has brought them to this deep sadness. Moira controls the tempo with her trusty black handdrum. Its beats have laid many to rest. The daughter of an undertaker in an anonymous little village in once-happier regions, Moira has been consoling the grief-stricken since she was a baby, often handed by her father to some miserable mourner. She’s a connoisseur of the sadness that follows death, having seen it from many angles in her travels. Gradually her magic began to manifest alongside the rapid development of her musical talents, leading her father to apprentice her to the local bard who taught her the way of song and sword. Assisting her father left her strong of frame and body, her health enhancing her natural beauty. Those were halcyon days for the undertaker, whose business was utterly booming. Unfortunately, the source of his prosperity was a plague that eventually left Moira to lead the services for both her father and mother. She has a resentment of high-level divine casters who so could be doing so much more to alleviate the sufferings of the poor. Her own village’s eventual collapse under the weight of illness has left her a wanderer, plying her woeful trade, and infecting her with the consciousness that her quick-readings and dance routines pale in comparison to the true essence of grief that she herself felt as she grieved friend after friend, family member after family member, during the worst of the plague. Now she often wonders if she has become a carrion crow, feeding off the last great bursts of emotion that ironically follow in death’s footsteps. As her depression grew, and as her music gradually ceased to assuage it, she found herself drawn to the city of Castorhage. She assumes that she will be able to ply her trade without interruption under the fetid pall of this sprawling filthy metropolis, but lately she finds even that difficult. Her long career of seeing the painful side of love has left her wary of attachment, but yet she craves the kind of connection that fuses disparate souls together here on earth. There must be something more than squabbling a life away in labor hoping to make the price of the priest’s ministrations. Moira Keening desires to discover the answer. Appearance and Personality:
I liked this description of Moira at a bar from a prior game, so I'll patch it in here: Moira Keening wrote: Moira's thumping at her hand drum, perched up on the table with back straight and one leg crossed to support the instrument (though the observant will note that it's fastened to her belt in a way that makes this mostly superfluous), the other nearly reaching the floor. She makes eye contact with everyone at the bar who cares to watch the performance--her well-worn but formal black garb of mourning contrasting with the heavy, still slightly mud-caked, eminently practical brown leather ankle boots (somewhat down in the heel, but holding) that dangle conspicuously from the table. She's not one of these adventurers who wears riding boots to walk. Moira's soul is troubled, as described above, but even that hasn't put a damper on her dark sense of humor; nor can she hide her magnetic personality under her huge hat. Having worked more or less as a professional in compassion for years, she is a great shoulder to cry on--though her few close friends wonder where the act ends and genuine sentiments begin. Somewhat unwise, she's very prone to taking risks--this, combined with her chronic depressive episodes, means she's prone to having one (or three) too many at the tavern, especially after a long day of burying people. |
