Beltias Kreun

Brominate's page

342 posts (1,343 including aliases). No reviews. No lists. 1 wishlist. 8 aliases.

Full Name





Init +6 | Perc +9 | AC 18 / T 14 / FF 14 | BAB +2 | CMB 1 | CMD 15 | Saves F +3 (+4)/ R +7 (+8) / W +2 (+3) | HP 6/26





Special Abilities

Sneak Stab; Trap Spotter




Common, Elvan, Sylvan, Skald


(former thief), Skinner

Strength 9
Dexterity 18
Constitution 14
Intelligence 12
Wisdom 12
Charisma 12

About Brominate

Male half-elf unchained rogue 3 (knife master)
CG Medium humanoid (elf, human)
Init +6; Senses low-light vision; Perception +9


AC 18, touch 14, flat-footed 18 (+4 armor, +4 Dex)
hp 26 (1d8+3)+(1d8+3)+(1d8+3)
Fort +2 (+3), Ref +7 (+8), Will +1 (+2/+4); (+1 trait bonus vs. the spells, spell-like abilities, and supernatural abilities of evil arcane spellcasters., +2 vs. enchantments)
Immune sleep


Speed 30 ft.
Melee Main hand: silver dagger +7 (TWF +5) (1d4+4/19-20)
(Off hand: dagger +4 (1d4+4/19-20))
Special Attacks sneak attack(unchained) +2d8/+2d4


Str 9, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 12
Base Atk +2; CMB 1; CMD 15
Feats Skill Focus (Stealth), Two-weapon Fighting, Weapon Finesse, Extra Rogue Talent (Fast Stealth)
Rogue Talents Trap Spotter, Fast Stealth
Traits elven reflexes, warded against witchery
Skills *Acrobatics +8, *Appraise +1, *Bluff +7, *Climb +3, *Diplomacy +6, *Disable Device +7, *Disguise +5, *Escape Artist +7, Fly +3, Heal +1, *Intimidate +5, *Knowledge (local) +5, *Knowledge (dungeoneering) +5, *Linguistics +5, *Perception +9, Ride +3, *Sense Motive +7, *Sleight of Hand +7 (+8 to conceal a light blade), *Stealth +12, Survival +2, *Swim -2, *Use Magic Device +1; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception
Languages Common, Elven, Skald, Sylvan
SQ elf blood, hidden blade
Combat Gear Elixir of hiding, Potion of invisibility, Potion of pass without trace, potion of spider climb
Other Gear mithral shirt, masterwork silver dagger, dagger (3), masterwork thieves' tools, winter blanket, cold weather outfit,

Special Abilities:

Special Abilities
Elf Blood Half-elves count as both elves and humans for any effect related to race.
Elven Immunities - Sleep You are immune to magic sleep effects.
Hidden Blade +0 bonus on Sleight of Hand checks to conceal a light blade.
Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in dim light, distinguishing color and detail.
Sneak Attack (Unchained) +2d8/+2d4 +2d8 damage with a dagger-like weapon if you flank your target or your target is flat-footed. (Any other type of weapon reduces Sneak Attack to +2d4 instead)


Elven Reflexes: One of your parents was a member of a wild elven tribe, and you’ve inherited a portion of your elven parent’s quick reflexes. You gain a +2 trait bonus on initiative checks.

Warded Against Witchery: Sometime in your youth, you encountered a location, object, or being steeped in the power of evil witchcraft. Whether you were the victim of this force, were a conduit for it, or merely witnessed its effects, the event changed your life. You have tried to put the strange incident behind you and forget it, but nebulous premonitions of danger and eerie feelings of deja vu have dogged your steps ever since. For some inexplicable reason, you feel drawn to the lands of the North, though you fear another encounter with the evil witchcraft that touched you once before. Whether through your purity, the blessing of goodly spirits, an innate determination, or an intuitive and inexplicable familiarity with the ways of black magic, you have acquired a resilience against the power of the dark arts. You gain a +1 trait bonus on saving throws against the spells, spell-like abilities, and supernatural abilities of evil arcane spellcasters, and a +1 trait bonus on Spellcraft checks to identify spells cast by evil arcane spellcasters.

Raised by an Elven mother and Human father, both of whom were thieves and taught Brominate their trade. Despite his knack for thievery, “Brom” chose to steal food and clothing so his family could survive another day. His parents were constantly using him to steal wealth, odd stones, glittering jewels, sometimes random odds and ends or unique trinkets that didn’t seem to hold any monetary value. It was the thrill of the steal his parents seemed to crave. And, if was honest with himself, he enjoyed it too. He particularly enjoyed gemstones; it seemed so mysterious and unbelievable that something so unique and beautiful was naturally formed within the earth. He once heard they could contain magical properties.

While still young, a planned hit had been discovered and it led to the death of Brominate’s father.

With that, his elven mother grabbed whatever clothes and coins they still had and they left the city, to return to her homeland.

Brominate didn’t like living with elves. Their hair and faces were too long, their clothes too soft, their disapproval too obvious. Over time, he grew a disdain for his elven heritage. His mother was a shell of her former self; did nothing but walk around, occasionally snatching something from a table or wagon. Everyone knew she did it but didn’t seem to care. He somewhat looked like them, though his face was shorter, ears slightly rounder; he was allowed to live there, but not really be part of it. He ran away in the dead of night to find his own adventure and create a better life.

One built honestly.

Several years later, Brominate married a human (after getting her pregnant). They settled in a mostly human settlement on the edge of a different forest further north than his mother’s homeland.

He had found work as a skinner. It turned out he was very good with knives. So he cultivated that talent. Due to dangers that come with living on the forest outskirts, he would spend early mornings practicing combat with daggers and other blades he used in his craft. His evenings he devoted to time spent with his wife and beautiful daughter, now a toddler. Everything he had, he earned through honest hard work. It felt good to earn things. Brominate never fully forgot, however, about his other cultivated talent. It pulled at him. He worked hard to provide for his family, but corruption and injustice in a small, outlying community meant the money was never quite enough. His family was slowly starving and he was desperate. He wouldn’t fail as a father or husband. He would provide, one way or another.
He already had the skills set. His parents taught him everything they knew.​

​At first he was simply stealing food from unattended carts in the marketplace. Eventually, someone took notice of his skill. He ​got in deep with a ring of thieves. Climbed in their ranks. They typically traveled to neighboring villages or even cities for hits. Over time, Brominate stole not just for survival, not even just for wealth; sometimes, for the sheer thrill of it.

One evening, a seemingly wealthy stranger in a cloak entered their settlement, choosing to stop for the night in this small corner of the map, Brominate quickly alerted the colleague he worked with the most, indeed had become friends with, and they came up with a plan to rob this stranger. They noticed he kept a small chest with him, safeguarded.

Assuming something valuable lay inside, they agreed that would be the target.
Brom attempted to sneak through the upper window of the room where the stranger in the cloak would be spending, and got in no problems. The room was empty. There lay the chest. He opened the chest.
Inside lay a mysterious, glowing jewel-stone. Sensing nothing awry, Brominate picked up the stone.
It was warm, and seemed to pulse in his hand. He noticed strange markings on it. They were some distant language he knew nothing of. Then something rushed over him… he couldn’t explain it; like a wafe but not, around him, but inside of him. [Warded against Witchery] He checked himself quickly, making sure he didn’t have a third arm or extra ear, wasn’t melting or anything. Assured that, at least for the moment, everything was fine, he closed the chest, and even re-locked it. As he was about to climb out the window, the door flew open.
Brominate jumped out and climbed up towards the roof and down the other side. He caught eyes with his partner and gave him the signal (No score. Chest locked with magic. Will meet at rendezvous.) As he fled, the stranger was heard raging with shouts of "​Come back here you filth! Do you know what you've done?" Brom darted to the woods to lay low until dark. He didn't want to risk being followed home.

In a forest of mostly tall dark oak trees, several miles from the town, stood a lone birch tree; the same kind that grew in his mother’s homeland. It was truthfully the reason he picked this settlement as his new home. He liked the reminder of where he came from and, honestly, missed his mother from time to time.

​Hardly anyone came here because the canopy was so dark, but it wasn't a problem for Brominate. He could see just fine.

He pulled the stone out and gave it a long stare. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew from the moment he touched it that he wouldn’t be selling or sharing this jewel with anyone. Especially his partner. He buried the jewel at the base of the tree then began his trek home. He’d been gone for a few hours. Night had fallen. He was still a good ways off when he noticed faint glow in the distance.

As the trees thinned he could see smoke in the air.
​Unsure of why he was so terrified​, he began sprinting the rest of the way home. Then he saw it. His house was in flames! He dove through a back window, calling for his wife and daughter.

When he burst through the door to his daughter's room, his world fell apart.
His wife lay dead on the floor, large blood stains and gashes.
His colleague, his friend, standing over her, smirking, holding a dagger.
The stranger, holding his daughter, who is crying and screaming.
[The stranger is some sort of spell-caster (wizard/sorcerer/etc)]
[​The man had hired the thief, offering a hefty pay to recover what Brom stole. As the saying goes, "No honor amongst thieves."]
"Where is it boy? You have one chance, and one chance only. Where is it!?"
Brom had to save his daughter... but didn't want to lose the jewel either.
Why? Why do I care? I need to save my daughter! I can't lose her too! .... ... and yet... ...

​"Where is what?" Brominate coughed through the smoke.
"Fine. You've lost everything, boy. Kill him!"
The thief lunged suddenly. But Brom was always better, always faster. [Elven reflexes]. Plus, this man had murdered his wife. The thought consumed Brominate as the house in flames began to fall apart around them, the fire roaring, Brom tripped the thief and shoved him right to the spot where a support beam came crashing down a moment later. ​The thief was pinned, crushed, going to burn alive.

He screamed.
Begged for mercy.
He would receive none.
​He turned and saw through the licking flames that the sorcerer was putting his daughter in his wagon/carriage/transport... she screamed and reached for her daddy.
The moment he began to run towards her, a piece of wood came flying from behind and knocked him unconscious.

By the time he awoke (in a bed, in a neighbor's house, who had rescued him), his daughter was gone.

For many years now, Brominate has searched.
He is seeking the individual who ordered the murder of his wife and kidnapped his daughter.
He cannot bear to hope she is alive. It is too much pain. Not to mention what it would mean for her.
Devastated as he is, he would rather assume her dead. He can instead focus on ice cold vengeance.
He has found himself travelling north. He doesn’t know why. Maybe he overheard the stranger, but it feels like something deeper, something inside him.

He never went back for the jewel.

In his travelling, Brominate mostly keeps quiet. The world is an unjust place and sometimes bad things happen to good people. But, if he sees it, he will not tolerate:

The abuse/mistreatment of children
as well as,
Those who steal purely for wealth or pleasure.

Brominate, knowing he has nothing to go on, merely goes where he feels he needs to. He has joined with others for dangers or quests that will help pay his way. His knowledge of blades has made him quite useful. He never stays with these groups for long. But he doesn’t view any of this as being sidetracked, merely the twisting path that might lead to redemption, or revenge.