About Brogol StoklBrogol Stokl Male Human Unchained Rogue (Snoop) 3
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Melee
Ranged
Spells Known/Prepared --------------------
Base Atk +2; CMB +2; CMD 16 Feats additional traits, deft maneuvers, skill focus (bluff), extra inspiration Elephant in the Room Risky strike, defensive stance Traits Rancher, Thrune informant, Varisian tattoo, Trap finder Skills 36 (24 base + 3 int + 3 human + 6 background; *denotes background skills; ** denotes free inspiration use) **Bluff +9 (3 ranks, 3 class, 3 feat)
Favored Class 3 hp Languages common, halfing, infernal, varisian SQ sneak attack +2d6, inspiration (5/day), skilled, focused learner, rogue talent (underworld inspiration), finesse training, danger sense +1 Combat Gear MW bladed scarf (12 gp, 2#), dagger (2 gp, 1#), masterwork chain shirt (25 gp, 25#); sap (1 gp, 2#); light crossbow (35 gp; 4#); 10 crossbow bolts (1 gp, 1#); shortsword (10 gp, 2#) Other Gear broken carriage (300 gp), MW Thieves' Tools (100 gp, 1#) 597 gp, parts for a masterwork scarf, Horse (300 gp; heavy combat trained), MW bit & bridle (50 gp; +2 to handle animal checks with horse), MW saddle (50 gp; +2 to ride checks), saddlebags (4 gp), MW studded leather barding (250gp), MW Animal training kit (50 gp; +2 to train animals for new tricks) Four questions: 1. What is your character's connection to Longacre? Why is he here? My connection? Spent the worst part of my childhood in this flyspeck hellshole. I guess there was some OK parts too, if I really think hard. Played with the Fortmile kids - you know, the Jackdaw folks? They were alright, my favorite people here, other than my ma and my sisters. Just bought a carriage from them the other day. Carriage’s in bad shape, don’t even work, but one day, she’ll be a beauty. Only other good friend from those days was Cimri Staelish, and she was alright in a different way, chinney? Anyways, I came into a little money and I’m just back in town to do something for my ma, something nice like. When da died and we lost the ranch… well, life wasn’t easy for us, yeah? Don’t get any ideas about any money by the way- it’s already spent. Anyways, I’ll probably head back to Westcrown when I get my carriage up and running, start my own business. Meantime, maybe I’ll stop by and say hi to Cimri, see if she needs help with anything. Anything on the upandup, of course. 2. Who is one NPC your character thinks of as a friend or ally? (Can be made up and not from AP or official source material.) Well, I mentioned the Fortmile kids, and Cimri. Other than that, my ma of course, she’s a saint and I’ll black the eye of anyone that suggests differently. And my sisters, Emelia and Shae, they’re both still at home, and they’re fooking lovely peoples yeah? Em, she’s gonna be a real-life Chelish Diva, if this world lets her - she’s not so swarthy-looking as me, Varisian in all the right ways and none of the bad. And Shae? She’s the smartest of us. Recently started working at the Longacre Historical Society, just a clerk now, but one day, she’ll be a librarian or a professor or something grand, chinney? Isn’t it more interesting to talk about who we don’t like though? My step-da, the Captain Kaelman. I’ll just say the world’ll be better off when he’s not in it, you know? 3. What is one goal for your PC other than the one provided in your campaign trait? This is a cruel country and you gotta be cruel to get ahead. I’ll step on my enemies no problem with that, but if I can lift my ma and my sisters up along the way, and maybe keep my sisters from growing up cruel? That would be something worth living for. Yeah, I gotta get that damned carriage fixed. 4. If your character is anything other than a human Chelaxian, explain how she fits in to Longacre. Fit in? Not so good. Ma’s a widow remarried to a mean drunk, ex-military, not well liked around town. But the Captain’s got a pension and a house and they love each other in their own way I guess. So we don’t have money. And we’re Varisian so that’s that, you know? Can’t say Longacre has loved us, I for one sure as hells don’t love it! Appearance: Like most Varisians, Brogol Stokl has olive skin. His eyes are a dark brown, and his black hair is worn short. Brogol is shorter and stockier than many of his kin. He favors functional clothes befitting those of a driver: leather breeches and a studded leather tunic, over which is placed a loose white cotton shirt. He often wears a wide-brimmed hat and a leather duster to protect from the dust and dirt of the road. Brogol is never without his kapenia, a beautiful, deep red and black alpaca wool scarf inlaid with blades, still sharp some 60 years after its creation. Although often covered by clothes, most of Brogol's arms, legs, and torso are covered with tattoos, largely stylistic black and white designs. Background: When Brogol’s father was on his deathbed, in the last throes of the yellowjack fever’s putrid embrace, he beckoned his only son close and, death rattle in his chest almost drowning out the words, whispered, ”A serf is born every minute in this land.” Later, as his father’s lifeless body lay in the family’s small ranchland home, Brogol pondered on those words, confused. His family weren’t serfs. They didn’t work some noble’s land in the countryside, at the mercy and whims of some cruel lord - they were free ranchers outside of Longacre. Like many ranching families, the Stokls were cash poor but land rich, and there was never a night the family went hungry. The fever dreams of a dying man, Brogol thought, as the lay priests covered his father’s body with a funerary shroud, his mother and sisters sobbing at the bedside. -------- The burial costs wiped out the family’s savings, and although she was a fine woman and a devout Asmodean, the townsfolk stayed away from the family’s cattle, fearful of the misfortune and disease that had taken the family’s patriarch. Within two years, the family was destitute and forced to sell their land at a great loss. The family moved to Longacre, into the home of a retired military officer, a stern and rarely sober Chel of mean disposition. Still, he had a pension and a modest house, and for a widow with three children at the dusty edges of the Chelish Empire, it was the most Brogol’s mother could hope for. Brogol, however, left home at the first chance, taking his only possession with him - a tattered bladed scarf that belonged to his father and his father’s father before him - a relic of their Varisian heritage. --------- With his ranching background, it was easy enough to land a job as a driver for an influential Wiscrani noblewoman. Altheah Thrune, the dowager, ran a tight ship, and her right hand was the cook Meriah - a commoner, but Chelish by birth and a long-standing servant of Altheah. Meriah wielded immense power within the house, and held a long-standing grudge against Varisians - a grudge which she took every opportunity to manifest against Brogol. His food was always salty and on the verge of spoiling, and Meriah quickly turned the rest of the staff - most of whom were slip slaves - against the driver. Brogol led a lonely existence at the Thrune vaneo. Meriah hung the nickname “Toadstool” around Brogol’s neck, like a millstone, a cruel nod to the Varisian’s short stature and olive skin. Ridiculed mercilessly, Brogol focused on his job and was the ideal servant - only noticed when necessary, and otherwise a part of the background, like a hat rack or a vase of flowers. He developed a talent for masking his emotions, and reading the emotions of those around him, and soon discovered he had a facility with languages, picking up the slaves’ language, which endeared him to the slips. Year passed and the ridicule stopped, but Meriah held her grudge, and she and Brogol settled into a steely detente of barely suppressed mutual loathing. The cook, Brogol decided, had to go. One winter night when the vaneo’s residents slept, Brogol searched the kitchen from ceiling to baseboard. In the back corner of the pantry, Brogol found an ornate wooden box, obviously Meriah’s, locked with a small brass clasp. Brogol pilfered some hairpins from the vaneo’s laundress and set about trying to open the box. Each night, month after month, Brogol crept into the kitchen and tried to open the box, and each night Brogol stashed the box back in its hiding place and crawled into bed, beaten by the box’s lock. One year to the day after finding the box, Brogol set again to his task, fingers shaking in the cold kitchen, as snow fell softly outside. Determined to pick the lock, Brogol stayed up close to dawn, working his improvised lockpicks, and still the lock stayed shut. Laying his head on the table, Brogol closed his eyes and forced a scream of rage from escaping his lips. Instead, Brogol did something he’d never done before - he prayed. A short missive, surprising even to Brogol, directed at the Reaper of Reputation. Reaper, help me open this gods-damned box, and I’ll be your faithful servant evermore. With a faint click, the brass clasp popped open. And just like that, Brogol Stokl became very devout. -------- The next morning, Altheah Thrune’s carriage was summoned, and when the dowager climbed in, she found the ornate box placed upon the carriage seat, lid open. Inside lay a series of notes, communications between Bellflower agents at the nearby market and Meriah, who had been passing seditious information onto the vaneo’s slaves. The vengeance brought down on Meriah was swift and merciless, but Altheah Thrune was equally kind to the driver for discovering the cell of Bellflower agents. Brogol was given a small fortune for his help, and terminating his employment, he made his way back to Longacre. He gave most of the reward to his mother, and spent the rest at Jackdaw’s on a broken but ornate carriage, which he intends to refurbish and repair. Brogol also will visit Cimri Staelish, an old friend from childhood, who Brogol understands is someone who knows the people to know. Perhaps the driver will fix the carriage, buy some horses, and open his own droving business far from Longacre. Or perhaps Cimri or the Reaper of Reputations will point him in another direction. Whatever happens, Brogol knows one thing for sure: he’ll never be a serf again. NPCs: - Jaela |
