About Rupert Hentzau
Height: 5' 9'' Weight: 140 lbs. Hair: Brown Eyes: Hazel
Rupert feigned a nervous glance about the table at his deadly, drunken companions, and threw the dice. He closed his eyes, and let the receding roars of disappointment and excitement inform him of his recent success.
“Seven again!? ‘Ow is it you always know?” came the cry of disbelief to his right, originating from the Cap’n’s incredulous right-hand-man, Mr. Stubbs. Ale dribbled down his wiry orange beard as he slammed his mug on the table and let out a drunken roar, watching Rupert scoop the piles of silver and gold coins into his leather money-pouch.
Rupert felt the weight of his coin purse slump against his leg. A good sum. “Oh, ‘tis easy, mate! Always ah matter of statistical likeliness, yeh see. Tha’ way I understand these things is, seven is mah’ lucky number, and when I feel a bit lucky: I put down mah money.” Rupert sized up his fellow brigands, disguising the scrutiny with his charming wink. He knew it was only a matter of time before they caught on to his actions and turned him over to the Cap’n, or worse: took matters into their own hands. Those sorts of things were strictly forbidden in their crew, but then again so was cheating your comrades in arms. And they were still murderers.
“For example, ‘llow me…” he reached for the dice, then hesitated, “do yeh mind?” he asked, cocking his head toward the cutthroat-thug Kirk who sat next to him, whose turn to roll technically came next. A grumble of agreement, and he continued, “As I was sayin’, ‘llow me to demonstrate. Who’s feeling as lucky as I am t’night?”
He scanned the table. Lenny, the youngster in the crew, was beaming from the other side of the table at the charismatic display Rupert was putting on. He gave the kid the slightest nod and cracked one corner of his mouth in a knowing smile before continuing to acknowledge the rest of the gamblers. He dropped his voice as low as it would go and still be heard over the din of the busy tavern, “I’m feelin’ seven-gold-pieces lucky, on mah’ lucky number seven. What say you?” He did the math quickly and efficiently: seven gold from every party at the table, coupled with the winnings and earnings he’d been hoarding for the last week, put him at a total of ninety-eight gold and seventeen silver. Enough.
“Okay. But I’m watching you.” Stubbs couldn’t resist the temptation of a pot of nearly forty gold coins, and when he went in the rest of the table stubbornly followed him, everybody claiming their ‘lucky’ number. Rupert massaged the ivory dice in between his palms, saying a silent prayer to Calistria, thanking her for the gift of the beautifully-crafted weighted dice that had brought him such good fortune the past few days. Normally he would be much more careful than this, never allowing his advantage to shine through in such an obvious manner, but the time had come to leave. Forget about Mr. Stubbs, the Cap’n, his murderous brigand friends: start anew. He tossed the dice onto the table, flicking his wrist ever-so-slightly while doing so, knowing the result of the roll before the ivory cubes even hit the table. 5 – 2. The future is mine, and I’m getting the hell out of here tonight, he thought.
As Rupert reached to collect the massive pot of winnings, the table suddenly went silent. He instinctively drew back his hand at just the right moment, and Stubbs’ cutlass slashed down in a failed attempt to sever his hand at the wrist, instead smashing the pitcher of ale into pieces and sending a small wave of smelly alcohol across the tabletop and onto the floor. Rupert stood up and took a step back from the messy table, reaching for a bottle with which he could hope to defend himself.
“Cheat.” was the only thing Stubbs said. Rupert gave him a menacing and convincingly furious glare, but began to regret leaving his sword in his room.
“Hey now, Mr. Stubbs, let’s not be too hasty,” piped up Lenny, whose eyes were alight with fear.
“He’s a cheat!” Stubbs roared, waving his arms about madly, the cutlass glimmering menacingly in the dim torchlight, “And even if ya’ll cain’t see it, at least the Cap’n will!”
“Okay,” Rupert said quietly. “We’ll take this to the Cap’n. First thing t’morrow, dawn. But not now, yeh know better’n most of us that he won’t be bothered during the night. If I’m a cheat, yeh can gut me and take mah’ winnings b’fore yeh even eat breakfast. Fair?”
Stubbs held eye contact with Rupert, whose gaze did not falter. Finally he looked away and swung the cutlass angrily at the table’s candle, slicing off the top and sending the smoldering wick into Lenny’s lap. “Okay. T’morrow it is then, then we’ll see ‘ow it is you know so much.” and he stalked away angrily.
Rupert visibly relaxed, stuffed the axe back into his belt, and took his seat. Collecting the coins from the table, he broke the silence saying “Well, I think that’s enuff’ games for one night, eh? What say ya’ll to another round of drinks?” The group wandered over to the bar where Rupert spent two of his recently-won gold coins buying drinks for his companions, and the explosive moment slowly dissolved into the past. Rupert relaxed, knowing he wouldn’t be around for the morning confrontation with the Cap’n, whom he knew would surely see through his guise—would probably even recognize the dice for what they were simply by hearing the story. None of that mattered. He thought to the packed backpack waiting for him at the foot of his bed, trusted rapier leaning against it, with all of the necessities he needed for making his way on his own. He thought of his heavy coin pouch at his side. He was ready.
Rupert Hentzau is a charismatic man, born to a bar wench in a small backwater town in the River Kingdom, son of a travelling merchant who disappeared from his life the day after his conception. A troublesome child, Rupert was eventually kicked out of his house for his rebellious behavior and obvious lack of respect for authority, and has claimed to be an orphan ever since, moving from one gang of miscreants to the next, never looking back. After learning of the faraway exploits of the Aldori swordlords in Brevoy, he made it his goal to establish himself and someday join their ranks. While he has never considered himself an evil man, he has dabbled in the more-than-questionable dealings of mercenaries and brigands for most of his young life. Recently making the decision to put aside these habits of petty theft and thuggary, he hopes to redeem himself for whatever evils he may have committed during his time leading to his adventuring days: his days to prove his worth to the world, and to himself. His political alignment and outlook on life have not changed (he still finds most authority figures to be oppressive and boring at best), but his morals have.
He is not one to keep quiet, even when opening his mouth might be a very bad idea. He likes to speak his opinions openly, but understands enough about social situations to hold his own verbally when deceit and subterfuge are more important than honesty. However, he honestly relishes when such plans go wrong and he needs to draw his sword. He finds danger thrilling, and to him combat is the most exciting form of danger. Socially-speaking, Rupert enjoys funny jokes, good music, and alcohol. He is especially fond of the company of bards, whose talents never cease to amaze him. In his spare time he has been known to pluck at a guitar, tote on a wooden flute, or try to memorize epic tales of adventurers he admirers, but he’s never dabbled in the performance arts enough to have any significant talent.
As far as actions in combat, he prefers the element of surprise (a preference he picked up working with so many gangs of brigands during his youth), and he enjoys infuriating his opponents via clever insults and boasts. He relies on mobility and his comrades to distract opponents, always seeking to strike in the most vulnerable spot he can.
Favored Class: Rogue (Swashbuckler), Ranger
AC: 19; Touch: 15; FF: 14
Speed: 30' (6 Squares)
Aldori Dueling Sword:
Composite Longbow (+2 Str):
+10 Acrobatics (3 ranks, 3 class skill, 4 ability score, —1 armor check penalty, +1 moral)
* Trained only
Daring: At 3rd level, a swashbuckler gains a +1 morale bonus on Acrobatics checks and saving throws against fear. This bonus increases by +1 for every 3 levels beyond 3rd.
This ability replaces trap sense.
+2 to One Ability Score: Human characters get a +2 bonus to one ability score of their choice at creation to represent their varied nature.
Medium: Humans are Medium creatures and have no bonuses or penalties due to their size.
Normal Speed: Humans have a base speed of 30 feet.
Bonus Feat: Humans select one extra feat at 1st level.
Skilled: Humans gain an additional skill rank at first level and one additional rank whenever they gain a level.
Languages: Humans begin play speaking Common.
Dodge:Your training and reflexes allow you to react swiftly to avoid an opponents' attacks. You gain a +1 dodge bonus to your AC. A condition that makes you lose your Dex bonus to AC also makes you lose the benefits of this feat.
Exotic Weapon Proficiency (Aldori Dueling Sword):Choose one type of exotic weapon, such as the spiked chain or whip. You understand how to use that type of exotic weapon in combat, and can utilize any special tricks or qualities that exotic weapon might allow.
Weapon Finesse: Granted by Combat Trick Rogue Talent.
Weapon Focus (Aldori Dueling Sword)
Brigand:You hail from the River Kingdoms or the more lawless reaches of Brevoy. Life has been hard for you. Perhaps your parents and siblings were crooks and con artists, or maybe your rough, lonely life lead you to fall in with thieves and worse. You know how to ambush travelers, bully traders, avoid the law, and camp where no one might find you. Recently, you’ve run into some trouble, either with the law or with other bandits, and you’re looking to get away to somewhere no one would ever think to look for you. An expedition into the rugged wilderness seems like a perfect way to lie low until the trouble blows over. You begin the campaign with an extra 100 gp in ill-gotten gains. You also gain a +1 trait bonus on Bluff, Diplomacy, Intimidate, and Sense Motive checks when dealing with brigands, thieves, bandits, and their ilk.
Sword Scion:You have lived all your life in and around the city of Restov, growing up on tales of Baron Sirian Aldori and the exploits of your home city’s heroic and legendary swordlords. Perhaps one of your family members was an Aldori swordlord, you have a contact among their members, or you have dreamed since childhood of joining. Regardless, you idolize the heroes, styles, and philosophies of the Aldori and have sought to mimic their vaunted art. Before you can petition to join their ranks, however, you feel that you must test your mettle. Joining an expedition into the Stolen Lands seems like a perfect way to improve your skills and begin a legend comparable to that of Baron Aldori. You begin play with a longsword or Aldori dueling sword and gain a +1 trait bonus on all attacks and combat maneuvers made with such weapons.
Gear & Money:
Arms, Armor, and Clothing
Backpack, 2 gp, 2 lbs.
Belt Pouch, 1 gp, 1/2 lb.
Saddlebags, 4 gp, 8 lbs.
Light Load: 58 lbs. Medium Load: 116 lbs. Heavy Load: 175 lbs.
Mounts and Pets:
Flo; N Tiny animal; Hawk
Lando; N Large animal; Horse