DM waz up's tale of the adventurer (Inactive)

Game Master william Nightmoon

She is driven by the desire to connect her to peoples, to build bridges. As one who is not entirely home in either of them she also wishes to prove herself as warden in the wild and one who understands the forest. She does not necessarily desire to be a hero, she wants to be respected as a capable warden of the forest and even drive the art of being a rangers amongst humans further.

Even though Myrhea is pretty romantic and prefers Shelyn's ways in matters of love, she does rever Calistria as her patron deity. Calistria represents elven nature at a carnal level as far as she Myrhea is concerned and even though the goddess may not be compelled to the truth, she is the most honest of all deities, for she doesn't pretend to be anything she isn't:

Calistria's primal, she's impulsive, she's vengeful, she's beatiful, she is the living embodyment of elven grace, she takes what she desires, but she doesn't drive it beyond plain instinct, Calistria just is. And that's what makes her admirable and makes other deities seem affected and artificial in Myrhea's eyes..

"I thought you liked it." returned Lendorin. It was sometimes amazing how his voice ab´nd his face seemingly hadn't changed since they first met.

"I like the forest, but there is a certain comfort to the Hollybrook. What don't like about it is that it's the place where you turn to leave."

He didn't reply at once so Myrhea turned to him. He had merely raised an eyebrow.

Once, almost eight years ago, she he had been her first serious "boyfriend", or so she thought. She had been wrong. Elves are... surprisingly casual with intimacy and have a different perception of time. She had been angry and frustrated when he skipped through the young, unbound elf maidens who, in turn, had not the slightest problem with that at all and were no different than he was in that regard. Lendorin had never wanted to hurt her, quite the contrary, he had wanted the young outsider with elven blood feel like any elf. As a half-human Myrhea had to realize that it was her who was a stranger in a game that she barely understood.

Over time the anger faded and the two became friends again, very anxious to never make the same mistake again. The problem was, Lendorin and Myrhea did have a lot in common and they were outstandingly effective hunting partners. As was proven by the goblin heads they carried.

"I... didn't mean to bring that up." She had to swallow to not think about the girl he'd be kissing tonight. She reached her hand out for the goblin heads. She made a gesture begging him to not persue the topic further.

"Do you think you'll be able to convince your people?" He indicated the bag. The problem was that goblins in the perimeter were becoming bolder and bolder, pushing more and more. The village was pretty isolated and usually went by by mainting a low profile, but it felt like something was stirring the goblins up and it was only a matter of time before it became a problem.

Neither elves nor humans seemed to willing to even take notice of the problem or push the responsibility to the respective other party, considering themselves the better warded. Only the rangers and hunters saw the real problem and Myrhea was right between everything, being neither pure elf, nor pure human.

"They aren't my people any more than you are, Lendorin. They aren't any more likely to listen to me the tribe is. I do have an angle - I am good friends with the mayor's daughter. Well, you know Sherida."

"Not as good as I may want to", Lendorin return and reaped a very fierce look from Myrhea for that. "Whatever else you may be, you are with the rangers. Midsummernight's for the clan, but the night before the wardens of the forest to celebrate our ways."

"I will be there. Unless we're out to fight whatever threatens my two peoples."

"Will you bring Sherida?"

Myrhea merely winked at him and walked with some attitude the narrow trail down to Hollybrook.

Zimul
Half Orc Cleric (Ra - Leadership and Fire domains)
N Humanoid
Init +2;
--------------------
Defense
--------------------
AC 13, touch 10, flat-footed 13
hp 10 (1d8+2)
Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +6
--------------------
Offense
--------------------
Speed 30 ft.
Melee quarterstaff +2 (1d6+2) or Cold Iron Dagger +2 (1d4+2/19-20)
Cleric Spells Prepared (CL 1th; concentration +4)
. . 1st — Cause Fear, Magic Weapon, Bless(Domain)
. . 0 (at will)—Detect magic, Light, Create Water
--------------------
Statistics
--------------------
Str 14, Dex 10, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 17, Cha 19
Base Atk +0; CMB +2; CMD 12
Feats Selective Channels
Skills Perception +8, Spellcraft +7, Knowledge religion +7, Diplomacy +8, Profession (Historian)
Background skills Linguistics +7, Knowledge History +7
Languages Common, Draconic, Abyssal, Osirion

Traits Seeker, Reactionary

Racial Traits
Sacred Tattoo : +1 luck bonus to all saves

Gear Cold Iron Dagger, Silver Mace, Quarterstaff, Studded leather armor, Belt pouch, Backpack, 2 sacks, 2 Waterproof bags, Waterskin, Flint and Steel, Torch, Light crossbow, Rope, String, 20 crossbow bolts, 5 sheets of paper, Ink, Inkpen, Grappling bolt, Charcoal, Spell component pouch, 2 wooden holy symbols of Ra, 3 days trail rations, 1 sack of flour, a bell, string, fishhook, signal whistle, 5 pieces chalk, compass, 2 pitons, 1 acid flask, 1 hammer

Wt - 51.5 lbs (light load)

--------------------
Special Abilities
--------------------

Inspiring Command (Su): As a standard action, you can issue an inspiring command to your allies. The inspiring command affects one ally plus one additional ally for every three cleric levels you possess, who must all be within 30 feet of you. Affected allies gain a +2 insight bonus on attack rolls, AC, combat maneuver defense, and skill checks for 1 round. This is a language-dependent mind-affecting effect.

Fire Bolt (Sp): As a standard action, you can unleash a scorching bolt of divine fire from your outstretched hand. You can target any single foe within 30 feet as a ranged touch attack with this bolt of fire. If you hit the foe, the fire bolt deals 1d6 points of fire damage + 1 point for every two cleric levels you possess. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Wisdom modifier.

Channeling energy causes a burst that affects all creatures of one type (either undead or living) in a 30-foot radius centered on the cleric. The amount of damage dealt or healed is equal to 1d6 points of damage plus 1d6 points of damage for every two cleric levels beyond 1st (2d6 at 3rd, 3d6 at 5th, and so on). Creatures that take damage from channeled energy receive a Will save to halve the damage. The DC of this save is equal to 10 + 1/2 the cleric's level + the cleric's Charisma modifier. Creatures healed by channel energy cannot exceed their maximum hit point total—all excess healing is lost. A cleric may channel energy a number of times per day equal to 3 + her Charisma modifier. This is a standard action that does not provoke an attack of opportunity. A cleric can choose whether or not to include herself in this effect. (6 uses per day - DC 14 - Positive energy selected)

Variant channel harm (neg energy) - Harm—Creatures are dazed for 1 round.

Zimul never knew his parents. He was raised in an orphanage where he grew up with other children. He soon learnt to protect himself with his fists, being a little larger then average size. Zimul never really had a purpose, drifting from one odd job to the other. That is until one day, when he was sleeping, he dreamt of a man wreathed in fire reaching out to him. Then he woke up in bed. At first he thought that he was dreaming, and tried to go to bed again, just to be faced with the fiery man again. This happened for a week, when Zimul, irritated from a lack of sleep, finally approached the man and asked him what he wanted. The man told him that he, Zimul, had been chosen as his disiciple, and he wanted him to uncover the shards of the past, and expose his glory to the world. Zimul has been travelling ever since, to uncover lore on Ra that had been buried by the god war.

Ranger 2 - [R2] Two-Weapon Fighting
Ranger 2 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 - [GLv3] Precise Shot, [W1] Scribe Scroll
Ranger 3 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 – [R3] Endurance
Ranger 4 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 – +1 Wis; [GLv5] Weapon Focus {Longbow}
Ranger 5 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 –
Ranger 6 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 – [R6] Two-Weapon Defense, [GLv7] Craft Wondrous Item
Ranger 6 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 1 – +1 Dex
Ranger 6 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 2 – [GLv9] Arcane Strike
Ranger 7 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 2 –
Ranger 8 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 2 – [GLv11] Craft Magic Arms & Armor
Ranger 9 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 2 – +1 Dex
Ranger 10 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 2 – [R10] Two-Weapon Rend, [GLv13] Quickdraw
Ranger 10 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 3 –
Ranger 11 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 3 – [GLv15] Arcane Armor Training {Light}
Ranger 11 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 4 – +1 Int
Ranger 11 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 5 – [GLv17] Vital Strike
Ranger 11 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 6 –
Ranger 11 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 7 – [GLv19] Maximize Spell
Ranger 11 / Wizard [Elementalist-Fire] 1 / Arcane Archer 8 – +1 Int

Fenn has started to range far and wide from his home town… a growing wanderlust in his heart. Most in “Little Tree” don’t think it will be long before Fenn takes to the road to see the world… and will miss the young local hero when it does happen. Fenn himself has only stayed as he doesn’t want to leave the town without his occasional help.

If there is one person who would be Fenn’s enemy it is his father Fenn ‘The Sr. Fortunately for Fenn his father is rarely around usually hatching some hurtful ‘get-rich’ scheme or another. Fenn Sr. is a drunkard and violent man… who takes great relish in demeaning Fenn at every possible turn. Fenn Sr. has never revealed who Fenn Jr's Mother is or why he even bothered to bring him as a toddler back to be mostly raised by his grandmother, Marilyn – before consumption took her life as well. But when Fenn Sr. is around~ brutal beatings and cruel intentions are all Fenn {Winter} Jr. has learned to expect from his ‘Pap’ - as he calls him.
But Fenn refuses to fight or hurt his ‘Pap’... he IS his father after all!

But despite his brutal and abusive father Fenn never lets it get him down. He is fond of saying, “… Ah’m sure somewhere tha’ is someone whose got it worse than meh! At least-wise Ah’m free to roam were Ah will under tha’ bright sun… and smoke a pipe or two on occasion’! Ah ain’t got it so bad!”

Fenn is a handsome rustic youth. His elven heritage is subdued as his ears almost look normal compared to humans… however his pale green eyes reveal his extra-human heritage. His sandy blonde hair is just a little too long… and almost always unkempt and left to hang loose. The bridge of his nose and cheeks are still lightly frosted with freckles. He has a rather pronounced country dral to his speech.

Fenn dresses in simple woodsman clothing with no fanciness. All his clothing is just simple serviceable in shades of brown and grey. Grey chemise and workman’s vest, leather trousers and buckskin boots, thick leather belt and wool travel cloak.

His weapons and armor he made himself through trial and error working in the forge… they are plan and unadorned …perhaps a little crude but certainly solidly crafted and maintained with keen edge and cleaned regularly. All are carried in roughly made leather sheaths or scabbards.

To all outward appearances he is merely a peasant yeoman with serviceable if crudely made gear… a country boy. Occasionally, Fenn likes to smoke his simple cornstalk pipe with its long handle.

However, Fenn 'The Jr.' was his complete opposite, kind, considerate and loyal if a bit lackadaisical when it came to doing chores or serious work. In that, Fenn 'The Jr' was amazing; because despite how much his father abused, bullied, and beat him the boy grew up strong and courageous. One of those rare people with a heart of gold! A true hero!

Fenn smiles a little shyly, "Well... ta tell ya tru' ma'am.. not much to tell. I got no brothers nor sisters.. well as far as I got a'knowing of. 'Pap' ain't bothere'd none to mention um. Same goes for ma mum.. no idea who she is or was.. but I think she may be dead. Ma Gran' mum raised me mostly... well until she' died some years back. I pretty much got on by ma-self... paps not round much and thas' a good thing to ... ! He kinda gets in his cups see, and is a mean drunk.. then again.. he's mean mos' times. Anyways, Ah'm, from tha' town o' 'Little Tree' to the east o' here. I'm sort of o' tha town's 'handy man' an hunts man. I got good wood-sense and can track an' hunt with tha best, Ma'am! I kin find ya yur path in the Wilds and keep ya fed when rations get low. Ah'm a fair hand at the forge ..made all my weapons and armor maself! Pertty much Ah've taught mayself all I know.. even though I ain't had no scholin'. I can fight, track, an not lead ya wrong where'ever ya need ta go. So' I got tired o' being pap's punching bag when he was in his meaness fierce-like... an I always wanted ta see the world... plus it was getting harder ta dodge people shuvin' chores at me. I figured - 'why not make a name fur maself out in the big world as an adventurer?'"

The young man before you is dressed in crude but serviceable gear armor and weapons.. all of them solidly built but crudely crafted as if by the hand of a apprentice. But none of his gear is faulty and has the road grime of regular use but constant care. The lad himself must still be in his teens from the light frosting of freckles on his cheeks and nose... giving him a handsome weather beaten look.. with a slowly forming lines of a healthy strongly built young man. He is tall 6' ft at least and he carries himself with the demeanor of a if not experienced hand at least a well familiarity with woodsman and tracker skills.. there is a confidence in his pretty... green eyes and easy smile that are just contagious! He will be a real lady charmer...

And this interchange...

Fenn turns his head to see Brom fall and immediately moves to assist him.. only to find.. he was already gone..

"Awe hell Brom.. man.. why .. why didn't you~ say somethin'?!? We coul~... we could have... done... somethin'~"

The young half-elf is obviously distressed.. close to tears.

He closes the warrior's eyes and whispers, 'Until All are One.. Rest well.. '

Fenn folds Brom's hands over his chest and rests his sword on his breast in his hands.

Standing he stalks over to the Hobgoblin and the Bugbear.. his visage a scowl of hot anger... his shortsword in hand.

"Yaw just kilt' a decent man.. an Ah'm loosing mah patience.. and mah sense o' mercy! Talk! Or Ah'm gonna see how many parts you like loosing before you do talk! BUT YOU WILL TALK or you WILL SCREAM.. yur' choice!!!!"

Zabela is mildly disheartened by the falling of their friend, but this feeling is quickly overpowered by her surprise at Fenn's outburst. {It seems half-breeds are much closer to humans than elves...}

She rushes over to him and holds him back as well as she can by his shoulders. Failing miserably, she whispers in his ear "Fenn, you'll never get anything true out of anyone with that attitude. If they know nothing, they'll send us on a wild goose chase just to keep from getting hurt."

She tries her hand, speaking to Bugbear in a calm, yet stern voice, "Master Goblin, what do you have to gain from keeping information about..." She stops, leans to Fenn, and whispers, "What are we questioning him about again?"

Fenn Grimaces, "Yur right.. milady. They'd probably lie anyways! One of the Goblins we talked too before told us their leader was someone called 'Goot'.. not seen him yet.. but I'm not sure one o' these two ain't him! but the Goblin seemed to say he was a human.. not seen any humans here yet."

Fenn sheaths his sword, "...I .. just don't like loosing comrades... but tha' was as much Brom's fault as their's... he was a stubborn cuss. Nevah got to know him any bettah either... nor will I apparently. He was not much older than me.. such a shame and a waste really!"

"But yur right Miss Bela'... wer're suppos' ta be betah than these murderers...! Ah'm sorry I lost mah temper.. not a seemly thing ta do. We're takin' them both back to New Wesel ta face human justice.. then ta blazes with them both!"

Fenn glances at the soft elven woman holding his arm... and quickly a crimson shade of blush blossoms on his face and slightly pointed ears... making the light frosting of freckles on his nose and cheeks accentuate just how young.. and cute he really is.

His tone involuntarily softening as he speaks to the elven woman at his side, "Ah'm.. we'd best search tha' basement and finish up here ma'am.. Bela."

His country gentlemanly ways and chivalrous attitude toward women folk cause him to lower his eyes shyly... he even trembles a little at her gentle touch.

Turning and stepping toward the basement... Fenn lights a torch.. mostly to give his hands something to do and his thoughts away from wondering how soft the rest of the lovely elven woman beside him might be...

Drawing his longsword this time torch in the other.. he makes his way down the stairs, "Come'on.. let's do this... so we can get home to a decent meal!"

Fenn heads down into the basement... wary for danger... hopefully there are no more traps... the thought occurring to him he pauses.

Calling back, "Hey, Bringor.. these ruffians is fond o' traps.. you wanna search on point down here?"