Oliver Cross's page

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DEFENSE
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AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 17 (+2 Dex, +5 armour, +2 shield)
hp 33 (10+2x7+3x2+3x1)
Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +3

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OFFENSE
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Spd 30 ft.
Melee Longsword +7(1d8+4/19-20/x2)
Ranged Longbow +5(1d8/20/x3)

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STATISTICS
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Str 18, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 10
Base Atk +3; CMB +7; CMD 19
Feats Cleave, Endurance, Power Attack, Quick Draw, Rapid Shot
Traits Scholar of the Great Beyond, Stolen Fury
Skills Climb +10, Handle Animal +6, Knowledge (Nature) +6, Knowledge (Planes) +7, Perception +8, Stealth +8, Survival +8
Languages Common
Combat Gear Arrows 40, Arrows cold iron 20, Dagger, Heavy wooden shield, Longbow, Longsword, Scale mail,
Other Gear Explorer’s outfit x2, Ranger’s kit
937.13gp

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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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Favoured Enemy +2 Outsider (evil)
Track
Wild Empathy
Combat Style Archery
Favoured Terrain Plains +2

Why shouldn’t he? Life was peaceful in the small hamlet east of Kenabres. They rarely felt the crusade and the evil just west of the river. All the crusaders he knew had retired to the hamlet, working in the fields to produce food for the ones that still fought. The local pastor was a kind benevolent man, working as much as he was preaching.

His life shattered when they took him. He wasn’t sure who or why, but one afternoon as he was tending livestock they grabbed him. Bound and gagged they dragged him and half a dozen others with them to a large stone near the border. Then they started chanting and killing, killing and chanting. His turn came but something was different, the chanting sang to his soul, invigorated him, forces beyond his ken lashes out killing or driving the cultist away and he laughed. He laughed like he never had before enjoying the fear, the suffering.

A few walked away, they departed ways and headed home. However he never arrived, someone must have told the church, hey he would properly have done it himself, and now the witchhunters had caught up. He was weighted and measured in numerous ways, looking for demon and evil within. Finally satisfied they ceased and he was let go.

While he arrived home this time, something was gone the youth was no more. His parents were uneasy around him and the town began to shun him only the preacher kept in contact trying to rebuild what was lost.

A true child of the melting pot the crusades brought with them Oliver has no one true heritage. His size could hint at an Ulfen somewhere in his ancestry, but his darker hair, dark eyes and pale skin points towards Chelaxian influence.