MiniGM's Unlikely Heroes Campaign

Game Master Vuvu

Luriel (1 Witch - Deception Patron)
N Humanoid (Elf)
Init +6; Senses low-light vision; Perception +4
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Defense
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AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 10 (due to medium load, max dex +3)
hp 9
Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +2
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Offense
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Speed 20 ft. (medium load)
Melee quarterstaff +1 (1d6+1) or Cold Iron Dagger +1 (1d4+1/19-20)
Range Longbow +4 (1d8)
Witch Spells Prepared (CL 1th; concentration +5)
. . 1st — Cause Fear(x1), Cure Light wounds (x1)
. . 0 (at will)—Detect magic, Light, Message
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Statistics
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Str 13, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 19, Wis 12, Cha 11
Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 15
Hex: Slumber (DC 14)
Feat: Scribe Scroll
Traits: Reactionary, Suspicious
Mundane gear: Spell component pouch (x2), Quarterstaff, Cold Iron Dagger, Longbow, 60 arrows, 40 cold iron arrows, Backpack, Waterskin, 50 ft hemp rope, (3) torches, Flint and Steel, Signal whistle, String, 4 pieces paper, Cold Weather Gear, Grappling arrow, 2 days trail rations, 2 sacks, chalk, hammer, anvil, 2 pitons, Silver Mace, 20.04 gp left over

Weight: 69 lbs (medium load)

Single item up to 4500gp: Ring of Sustenance

Skills: Spellcraft +8, Perception +3, Knowledge Arcana/Planes/Religion +8, Knowledge Nature/Dungeoneering +8, Knowledge History/Geography/Nobility +8, Craft Alchemy +8

Languages Elven, Draconic, Celestial, Orc, Gnoll, Common

Racial traits:
Elven Magic: Elves receive a +2 racial bonus on caster level checks made to overcome spell resistance. In addition, elves receive a +2 racial bonus on Spellcraft skill checks made to identify the properties of magic items.
Keen Senses: Elves receive a +2 racial bonus on Perception checks.

N Diminutive animal
Init +2; Senses blindsense 20 ft., low-light vision; Perception +6

DEFENSE
AC 17, touch 16, flat-footed 14 (+2 Dex, +4 size +1 nat armor)
hp 4 (half of masters hp)
Fort +0, Ref +4, Will +2

OFFENSE
Speed 5 ft., fly 40 ft. (good)
Melee bite +6 (1d3–4)*
Space 1 ft.; Reach 0 ft.

STATISTICS
Str 1, Dex 15, Con 6, Int 6, Wis 14, Cha 5
Base Atk +0; CMB –2; CMD 3
Feats Weapon Finesse
Skills Fly +16, Perception +6; Racial Modifier +4 Perception

Spells stored:

All cantrips

Cure Light Wounds, Cause fear, Ill Omen, Mage Armor, Burning Hands, Enlarge Person, Mount

Alertness (Ex): While a familiar is within arm’s reach, the master gains the Alertness feat.

Improved Evasion (Ex): When subjected to an attack that normally allows a Reflex saving throw for half damage, a familiar takes no damage if it makes a successful saving throw and half damage even if the saving throw fails.

Share Spells: The wizard may cast a spell with a target of “You” on his familiar (as a touch spell) instead of on himself. A wizard may cast spells on his familiar even if the spells do not normally affect creatures of the familiar’s type (magical beast).

Master gains a +3 bonus on Fly checks

Galen was born the second son of this poor, tired family. He heard incessant stories of his families greatness but saw little evidence of such. Only the fascinating dragonhide shield of his grandfather remained. Without money to support his sons, Sir Gerold slowly sank into depression finally ending up in the bottle. Galen's mother, Alyanna, took ill in the families cramped quarters of Old Korvosa and soon the consumption took her.

Galen was able to secure a squire-ship with another expatriate family near the city, but his family did not possess the wealth to have him knighted as befitted his supposed station. With a father who couldn't support him, and no prospects, Galen swore his oaths to the Order of the Sword, pledging service to the ideals of a knighthood that he couldn't quite attain. In his training, he learned the art of the sword and lance, to ride and to fight but also had the ideals of his order deeply ingrained in this persona. Eventually, he came of age and, leaving this father and brother, the young squire set out on the road to defend his beliefs and earn his own fortune that would support his family, allow his knighthood to become a reality, and perhaps someday, restore his family's lands and titles.

His abiding belief in the chivalric ideals, defense of the poor and downtrodden form the basis of much of his youthful interactions. He also has a deep desire to earn a reputation of personal honor and courage. A consuming hatred of the Thrune family, and their infernal allies, has also been bred deeply into the young man's conscience from stories of his family's unfair disinheritance.

"Boys! Boys! Just shut the hell up and listen! No one is asking your opinion right now, there will be time for it after we clear this damned hole - Alastair, keep those heals coming towards us - I am counting on you to keep us up and running for as long as needed, just make an extra prayer to your God this morning or whatever... Jules, I am still waiting on that intel for their setup - instead of going on with the blabbering, get your unseenness going and get movin! Lucian, I want to be fighting on our terms, bring on your pits, flames or whatever you need to bring, just keep it UNDER CONTROL. The rest of you boys and girls, stay tight on my hairy arse as ticks - MOVE OUT!"

He had been there before - another hole, another humanoid tribe robbing, pillaging, and being generally nasty - nothing different, nothing unusual. The Captain is still in diapers, so it is up to Reknar to lead them in, clean up the place, and Team Badger wins the day so the Cap. can collect the honors and... Buy some more diapers I guess...

It matters not, he is there for his share and his boys - they trust him and he knows he can take them where they need to go.

"G&&%!%n boys! What the hell are you doing Lucian?! Do you not see that goblin roller making short work of our left flank?! Stay sharp or I will be the one rolling over you, you bony excuse for a wizard - stay SHARP!"

He usually kept to himself, but they knew he would be the first to step up for the hardest of things when they were in the thick of it - making decisions. No point in waiting for the brass, too tied up in pleasing the Commander and making "strategic" decisions - when the s*** hits the fan, there is no time to ponder relations with the neighboring kingdom, or the Lady and kids waiting back home - you need to let go, evaluate the here and now and MOVE. Stop and you are dead.

That is why the boys and girls in Badger company turn to him - bottom line, not making a decision is worse than a bad one.

Releasing his sword, previously stuck on a particularly hard hobgoblin head, he smiled at how far they have come since he was put in charge of the rag tag team - "The badgers lack Discipline!" - the Cap. would shout at him over and over again, but that was the whole beauty of it. Sure enough they were as mixed as it gets, but everyone contributed to the whole, and they all knew and accepted their place - "We get the job done!" - was his most common retort, which however simple it may be, was the pure and clean truth.

It was raining hard that day - the Badgers soaked and pissed kept gnawing at his heels - "Makes no sense to invade a spookers hole under this weather - the traps will be harder to spot and disarm, visibility is reduced to crap, and we still need to manage the approach without losing half the men!" - Lucian shouted in his face - the wizard was much more than a friend after two years service in the wilds, but he was starting to grate on his nerves - "Look Lucian, I agree with every single piece of crap you are throwing my way - but we ARE going in - Badger company gets the job done, and this needs to be done. Damn! Was I the only one listening when the crying girl recounted how these bastards tore up her family - we are doing this!"

Lucian just nodded as he usually did when Reknar suddenly got into altruistic mode - some things simply tickled him the wrong way, and he already knew there was no arguing against it - they would invade and clear out the goblin hole, as always.

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"Hard work, that's how things get done" - it seemed those words had echoed in his head forever, initially associated to the image of his father toiling away in the fields with him in tow, he seemed gigantic, bigger and stronger than life as he pushed and urged the family horse - Underdog - ever forward, plowing the land, year after year. He was too young yet, too naive to understand that life is so much more complex than that - that the bruises and pained look on his mother's' face were anything besides bad luck of having bumped again against the damned door, and that the word 'bastard' uttered in not so hushed tones at night when supposedly he was asleep, were no mere coincidence.

He grew up on this 'sunshining' father figure that meant everything to the boy - ignorance never being so much blissful as it was in his own world, but no one stays young forever...

The sick crunching sound felt disgustingly rewarding as his fist hit the man's' face once, and again, and again - "You dare?!" - came the retaliation amidst spittled blood and teeth, in the background a womans' scream he could not quite place or recognize among the haze of anger - again and again he hit and got hit - "Hard work!" - his mind shouted at him every time he bordered on the edges of consciousness, so he shook the sweet good night away and pressed on - the man was huge, strong as an ox and even more furious, but he was determined - it would end today.

"DEAD!" - the word pierced the haze, making him pause and ponder - he knew the voice and knew the word, but he was unaware of the conjuncture until he noticed his bloody knuckles and the, by now unrecognizable, face he had been pounding into oblivion - "Hard work..."

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"Prison is not easy fellas, but then again, what is in this life?" - he would sometimes recount to Badger company around a fire and a hearty meal - "It gets you doing things that you never thought possible - you either toughen up or you die on the spot. And don't believe any stories that you always find someone honorable inside, willing to lend you an hand - that is plain and simple bull****. You need to fend for yourself or suck it up when you can't, but above anything else, it is all about surviving, living to eat the damned gruel another day, and face a threat at lunch time - I learned a lot though"

After murdering his father, Reknar was quickly and summarily condemned to incarceration, spending most of his juvenile years in prison - the boy was broken when he entered that place, and callous when he left - the opportunity presented itself as it usually did every couple of years - anyone willing to serve in the army or navy got their sentence commuted by 2 years for each one served - he grabbed it with two hands and crawled out of that hellhole.

The military weren't much better, ex-convicts being considered 2nd class soldiers, treated almost as poorly as they were in prison, poorly geared, thrown at the worst of assignments, commanded by the less able of the officers - no one cared about body count amongst Jailites, they were there as fodder. Instead of fighting it, Reknar embraced it - amongst the rabble he found variety - anyone can end up in jail, so he met with the most varied walks of life, and he soaked it all in - he learned discipline from Riktor, and old grizzled veteran of war who had murdered his commanding officer after he had sent them to be massacred on a tactical deathtrap, with Janice the dual wielding dagger hired assassin to be, he learned passion and to speak before swinging his blade...

He met countless, befriended some, and watched most of them die on the field.

"Hah! Honorable death you say?! Come on... Nothing honorable about dying lad, and by the way, you say you will meet your God in the Seven Heavens right? Well, show me someone that has seen them, and if it is half as wonderful as you are painting it, I'll slit my own throat just to get there. In the meantime, just keep your wits about ya and stay ALIVE. As for death, and if you really must pray for anything at all, pray that yours is a quick and painless one"

Through grit and blood he climbed the ranks - proved himself and his Badger Company able and willing, but it was for naught as he came to understand - even after his 3 years of service were completed things did not improve - others still looked at him, his boys and girls like "Jailites", they kept throwing them into the deepest of possible mess, and his commanding officer was still an incompetent jerk. Curiously enough, that was perhaps the only time in his life that he felt some sort of sense of duty - towards those that looked at him for leadership, encouragement, and above all those 'oh so dreaded' decisions.

By this point he was free to leave, but he chose not to - at a certain point, and after a particularly messy affair at the Drecchard Bog, he was even offered another command, not a jailite team this time, but real soldiers - he refused without a second thought, and returned to his soggy and filthy barracks to down a couple of watered ales with the Badgers.

He was already five years into service, and never made it past sergeant - "When a troll comes wailing at ya, it really doesn't matter how many stripes you have on your shoulder, or how many plumes you have on your helmet now does it?" - it mattered not, he was being quite successful at keeping the Badger company up and running, casualties to a minimum, and a high rate of success - so much so that it made a lot of high ranked officers feel awkward, and that is never good.

The badgers operated smoothly - parts were well defined and the hierarchy well taken in - listen to the Sargent, ignore the Captain - simple. But nothing could have prepared them for that day - "With your permission SIR, you have got to be kidding me - you want me to take the whole company into a g%~ d@$ned crypt, with confirmed hauntings reported, as is?! Sir, we are ill-equipped to deal with any sort of undead menace - as I reported over six months ago at the Tellis offensive, we have received none of the blanches requested, Tulion has been refused his robes because the church believes his work here is a waste of resources, and Lucian tells me that the reports so far are an understatement of what can be found in there - the undead concentration points to something else in there... And we are supposed to get in the hole, and clean it up?!"

He didn't have to hear the answer to know what it was. As he left the tent, his two corporals waiting outside needed no questions - Reknar's grim face was enough - "This is going to hurt"

He hasn't shared any of what actually happened in the infested crypt with anyone since that day - the surviving members of the Badger company emerged three days later - covered in blood, Reknar carried Tulion on his arms - his body showing evidence of dessication, barely a husk of skin and bones, Lucian followed them, his left arm swollen and festering with some sort of unholy sickness, one of his eyes gouged out, barely walking.

Around his chest, the sergeant bore a harness, connected via improvisated ropes to a pall, where three others laid, their sunken eyes dark, their mouths locked into a perpetual, silent scream. Without a word the three wounded were delivered to the infirmary - the physicians shaking their heads, lost at what to do. Reknar kept on, crossing the barracks, and wading right into the chapel that served the military quarters, striding in before appalled eyes he deposited his priest companion body on the altar, turning to the priests to one side with a sneer - "There's your martyr - I'm sure you will praise his deeds - remember to tell everyone he died screaming"

He did not murder the captain, did not even address him - even though he would never forget the Krastigan name, he was irrelevant after all, as a man, and as a commander - he just took the blood soaked pall from his back, and without missing a step, both him and Lucian gathered their gear and left the quarters that same day, still bloodied and wounded.

"Sense of Duty... It has a nice sound to it does it not? Seems to roll off the tongue... But that is all there is to it - a nice sound"

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Travelling with Lucian, instead of fighting alongside him proved to be a totally different experience for Reknar - he found him to be extremely knowledgeable, and much more than a combat indoctrinated wizard. He found pleasure in the next year they spent together, travelling for the simple sake of it, without apparent direction, from one land to the other, taking in the differences, sustained by odd mercenary jobs.

Surprisingly enough, his companion proved to be much more of an idealist than Reknar had perceived - "Not usual to find such big words coming from the mouth of a wizard - I always thought you all vied for absolute power and whatnot" - talks of absolute power usually brought laughs from both of them, and the ensuing discussions surrounding the will and principles of man would usually trail off into the night, around their makeshift fireplaces.

After many months of wandering, Lucian presented his will to return to his homeland, and his wizard apprenticeship - Reknar acquiesced and accompanied him. He had been away from civilization for some time now, and the myriad sights and sounds invaded his mind with the strength of a punch - "Aaaah, I missed this Lucian, I gotta admit it" - As they walked through the city, having been detached from the main commercial circuits, there was much to catch up, but word of the teeming Stolen Lands came up a little everywhere - opportunities, riches, adventure, exotic cultures - were all words associated with it.

He remained with Lucian as a guest for long, but after some time he became much more than that - coming in contact with the metropolis had a defining impact on the man - in spite of Lucian having pointed it out more than once to him, he had always dismissed it with a shrug, but in fact he realized that gobbling up information came naturally to him - for the first time in almost 8 years, he put his sword away and picked up something else - a book.

He found renewed motivation in pouring through the tomes his friend brought for him. He found that knowledge was neutral, it did not choose sides, neither Good nor Evil, it was undaunted by askew visions of men - it was objective, much like himself. He found pleasure in losing himself into it.

Reknars' outlook on life did not change though - all he had been through had shaped him into a cold, callous man, unbelieving in higher principles or goals - but it did change his insights about those many years he had spent fighting - namely the fact that there are many alternatives to simply drawing blood - concepts like strategy, tactics, and combat logic coalesced from mere vague ideas into true knowledge, and he embraced them, his brain more avid for such knowledge than he had ever expected. While staying as Lucian guest, he poured through his library and gravitated more and more towards a different approach to warfare. He had to shed many of what he had learned before while in the army, and he came to realize that, in fact, being constantly pushed to the lower ranks, made for the sad result that he really hadn't learned that much about warfare, or even combat - he had been consistently in the brunt of it, which allowed him to understand what it is to share hardship with others, but as far as being a combatant, it really taught him nothing more than how to draw a sword and swing it.

Letting go of the basic logics that a grunt is indoctrinated to in the ranks of any army, he re-learned by himself, though his cynic view of life remained, perspectives not changing on the higher purposes that one may try to find for life - in that aspect he is still quite the hostage of his father's' repeated words - "Hard work"

He soaked in what the huge city, and his own friend had to offer. At the back of his head however, he longed to bring his newfound self into play for something different. He had to admit it, he missed the warfare, the companionship that can only be derived from sharing extreme conditions... And his mind and body were becoming restless, he found himself reminiscing on the times when he had his soldiers around, looking to him to leadership, and decisive action. Without a second thought, he shared this with Lucian, and his friend replied with a request - that this time he would try to make a difference, instead of simply fighting for the fight itself - "You will find it to be more rewarding than you could have ever imagined" - he would say.

Ever cynical, and with a laugh, Reknar reluctantly acquiesced and decided to travel to where supposedly, opportunities abound, even if it is to make a difference - the Stolen Lands - "I doubt there is really a difference to be made Lucian, but at least who knows if I will be able to return filthy RICH! And add some to that poor excuse of sad room you call a library!" - were his parting words as he hit the road heading home - though it had never really felt like that...

"New beginnings" - Reknar pondered to himself, as if he heard Lucian's voice in his head - "Making a difference" - it sounded again, the remnants of a conversation held not so long ago, just before he left Absolom.

The weight in his backpack is a poignant reminder of his old friend - he had stuffed it with books - "One can never know too much my friend" - it was surprising how he ever managed to maintain his joviality and optimism after all that they had been through together, but the man seemed to look ever forward, and some of it had definitely rubbed on Reknar, though not that much...

The huge warrior seems veritably an implement of warfare - a well used, enormous hafted polearm lay across his backpack in easy reach; multiple weapons dotting his simple, travelling attire - a mace to one side, a dagger and a sling to the other, all complemented by a well polished but dented shield, strapped to his arm.

In spite of all the gear carried, he walks casually, sporting only a light chain armor to protect his torso - his massive frame seemingly having no difficulty in carrying the great load.

His dark hair is somewhat disheveled due to the days on the road, and his skin is quite tanned by the sun - though none of it dims the glow in his dark, black eyes.

I believe most of it is described in Reknar's Background above ;)

Strength 17 (+3)
Dexterity 14 (+2)
Constitution 16 (+3)
Intelligence 13 (+1)
Wisdom 11 (+0)
Charisma 16 (+3)

Size: Medium
Height: 6' 4"
Weight: 300lb
Eyes: Gray
Hair: Black; Thick Beard
Skin: Tan

Total Hit Points: 12
Speed: 30 feet
Armor Class: 16 = 10 + 3 [studded] + 1 [buckler] + 2 [dexterity]
Touch AC: 12
Flat-footed: 14

Initiative modifier: + 2 = + 2 [dexterity]
Fortitude save: + 3 = 0 [base] + 3 [constitution]
Reflex save: + 4 = 2 [base] + 2 [dexterity]
Will save: + 2 = 2 [base]
Attack (handheld): + 3 = 0 [base] + 3 [strength]
Attack (missile): + 2 = 0 [base] + 2 [dexterity]
Combat Maneuver Bonus: + 3 = 0 [base] + 3 [strength]
Combat Maneuver Defense: + 15 = 10 + 0 [base] + 3 [strength] + 2 [dexterity]

Languages: Common Draconic Orc

Dagger [1d4, crit 19-20/x2, range inc 10 ft., 1 lb., light, piercing]
Light Mace [1d6, crit x2, 1 lb, light, bludgeoning]
Long Spear [1d8, crit x3, 9 lb., two-handed, piercing]
Sling [1d4, crit x2, range inc. 50 ft., 0 lb, bludgeoning]
Studded armor [light; + 3 AC; max dex + 5; check penalty -1 20 lb.] ; arcane spell failure 5%
Buckler [ + 1 AC; check penalty -1; hardness 10; hp 5; 5 lb.]

Feats:
Combat Reflexes

Skills:
Acrobatics +2
Appraise +1
Bluff Cha 3
Climb Str* 3
Craft_1 Int 1
Craft_2 Int 1
Craft_3 Int 1
Diplomacy Cha 3
Disguise Cha 3
Escape Artist Dex* 2
Fly Dex* 2
Heal Wis 0
Intimidate Cha 9
Knowledge (local) Int 6
Perception Wis 4
Perform_Oratory Cha 7
Ride Dex* 2
Sense Motive Wis 4
Stealth Dex* 2
Survival Wis 1
Swim Str** 3
Use Magic Device Cha 7

Zero-level Bard spells: Unlimited casting of cantrips known
First-level Bard spells: 2 (1 + 1) per day

Favored class points: Hit points +1; Skill points +0

Half-Orc
This half-orc chose +2 to dexterity (already included)
Darkvision (see 60 feet in pitch-dark)
+2 on intimidate (already included)
Orc Ferocity -- if brought below 0 hp, fight for 1 round anyway
All orcs know greataxes and falchions

Bard
Bardic Knowledge
Bardic Performance -- 4 + chr mod rounds per day. Two more rounds day for each level above 1.
Cantrips
Can know only limited numbers of spells
High charisma gains bonus spells daily
Countersong
Distraction
Fascination
Inspire Courage +1

Class HP rolled
Level 1: Bard 8

Reknar's Equipment:

36 lb
2 lb
5 lb
3 lb
3 lb
2 lb
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51 lb Weapons / Armor / Shield (from above)
Backpack
Bedroll
Blanket, winter x1
Musical instrument
Spell component pouch