Hit-points at 1st level: 16 (12 + 3 Con + 1 Favored class)
Hit-points gained at 2nd level =
Hit-points gained at 3rd level =
Hit-points gained at 4th level =
Total hp = 56
Search Posts
Sorry I haven't been around recently; a pretty nasty stomach virus put me out of commission for the past couple of days.
Bladecatcher wrinkles his nose at the strange creature's corpse. "Bah, I don't eat anything I can't identify."
I'm in a Rise of the Rune Lords game right now, but other than that, I'm pretty much down for whatever.
Using his rage to fight the spider must have tired Bladecatcher out more than he thought, he hardly keep up with his companions, especially the energetic halfling. But when Mina cried out, he set off to confront the monster with the rest.
Bladecatcher sighs, seems to deflate somewhat as the spider slumps to the ground, rent asunder by his furious attack. He reaches down and pries off one the creatures fangs, mindful not to prick himself on its dripping point. He holds the mandible over his head and shouts, "Victory is ours!"
Growling, Bladecatcher alters the grip on his axe so he bring both ends to bear.
With a bellow, Bladecatcher surges forward, axe held high, a crazed look in his eyes.
"AH-CHOO!" Bladecatcher unleashes a mighty sneeze; fairy dust must have irritated his sinuses. He gives the altar a skeptical glance as he enters the room. "Bah! First glowing fountains, now glowing rocks." He makes a an orcish warding gesture against the evil eye, and skirts around the periphery of the light, moving to his right.
"I'll lead the way," Bladecatcher says. "I'm not afraid of bugs, even ones nasty enough to fell a goblin."
"And what about the spider web room?" Bladecatcher chimes in. "How safe is that?"
Everyone, behold! Adventure! The Animation workshop puts out a lot of cool stuff: This one is thematically similar, but with a completely different tone. And This... This is just nuts.
Bladecatcher stands next to Baris, his arms crossed against his chest, his axe nestled in the crook of one arm. "Patience, my short friend," he murmurs to Baris. "I have no taste for double-talk, but let them parlay. Remember our true foe."
Bladecatcher's determined scowl quickly turns into a look of confusion upon realizing the room is empty. He raises an eyebrow at the glowing fountain. "Anything shedding light that's not on fire isn't natural," he declares.
Bladecatcher stands with axe held before him, poised on the balls of his feet. Vertebrae softly pop as he tilts his head left and right to stretch his neck.
"I am called Bladecatcher, little one," Bladecatcher replies to the waist-high halfling. "And I like your idea." He gives Tochi a hearty slap on the back. "Come, let us catch them with their trousers around their ankles.
"Look there! Under the chest! Bladecatcher exclaims, reaching a brawny arm over Tochi's shoulder to point, obscuring the other man's view.
"Feh," Bladecatcher says as he watches the goblins scamper away. He looks to Sefyr and shrugs. "Those curs aren't worth the trouble." Within the cave, he peers over Tochi's shoulder at the chest. "I could smash it open," he offers.
Bladecatcher squats down and snatches up the other goblin by the collar of its ratty jerkin. "Open your eyes, you walking snot-wad," he snarls. "We would have words with you."
Bladecatcher grabs one of the goblins by the scruff of its neck and hauls it up to his eye level. "Wake up you runty little toad," he growls as he shakes the creature. "Where is Black Fang? Did he send you after us?"
Bladecatcher nonchalantly strode through the woods, humming an orcish battle shanty. He hung his arms over the haft of his axe, which lay across his broad shoulders. The townspeople had looked askance as he had walked past. Part of him relished the nervousness he inspired, but there was also a pang of sadness. He was no monster; he did not choose to be born a half-blood. As he neared the cave, he shook off his melancholy. He would slay this "Black Fang" and drag it through the streets to show everyone that he, Bladecatcher, the halfbreed whose gaze they would not meet, had delivered them from their enemy. Up ahead, he could see two of the volunteers standing before the mouth of the cave. "Ho there!" he shouts. "I hope you're not planning to steal all the glory, and the gold, for yourselves." He gives them a toothy grin.
It's been a busy weekend, but here's Bladecatcher's sheet at least.
I'd say Mo's rival would be Shalelu. Monarr is impulsive, loud, and as subtle as a sledgehammer; just the kind of person to get an elven ranger's hackles up. ;)
Monarr's background:
Monarr's father, Kerrang, was fairly progressive as orcish warlords go. Rather than have the half-breed summarily strangled at birth, Kerrang let the infant live. Maybe it was boy's eyes - violet, like his mother's, or maybe it was because the baby bit Kerrang's finger hard enough to draw blood, but there was something about the child.
Kerrang made sure that Monarr was raised in orcish way. For Monarr, this mostly entailed near-daily beatings from his full-blooded peers. Despite being out-numbered and out-massed, Monarr gave as good as he got: for every black eye or fat lip he received, he made sure the other boys left with a limp or his teeth marks in their hides. In between fights, Monarr learned the unsubtle arts of orcish warfare. He wasn't swiftest or strongest, but he impressed the tribe's warriors with his exhuberance. When the time came for Monarr's coming-of-age ceremony, the tribal shaman, being a traditionalist, refused to tattoo the tribe's totem on the half-orc's chest. Kerrang was furious at this snub, but didn't want to start a controversy in the tribe. Eventually, a compromise was reached: since Monarr was only half an orc, his totemic tattoo would only cover half his chest. In return, Kerrang wouldn't pull the shaman's arms out of their sockets. Monarr was conflicted by this turn of events. In one sense, he was grateful for his father's intercession and proud to bear the tribe's mark on his skin. But he also wanted to be his own man; if he stayed with the tribe, his father's influence would always be a factor. So, Monarr left the tribe, hiring on with a caravan passing through the Hold of Belkzen. The caravan's operator, Sandru Vhiski, liked the young half-orc's moxie. Monarr liked Vhiski's tales of his adventuring days and expressed a desire to one day set out on his own. Vhiski, understanding the youngster's wanderlust, agreed to let Monarr go when they reached the town of Sandpoint. I just have to add one more trait, but everything else should be there!
So, here's the crunch. The only thing missing is the campaign trait, and that's because I'm trying to decide between Caravan Guard (Sandru relationship) and Rescued (Shalelu relationship). |