Cage didn’t hurry out the door. He knew he’d reach the smithy on time. After all, it was only 341 steps to get there, and the chance of interruptions at this hour was vanishingly small. So, he hoisted his pack as usual and ambled out the door. The pack settled against his back with a familiar weight. The two small loaves of his father’s bread, wedge of hard cheese, and apple from the backyard orchard would be delicious after pumping the bellows all morning. As delicious as they were yesterday and the day before. And last week.
While his daily walk certainly hadn’t worn a rut in the streets of Halvan, it was easy for Cage to imagine that it had. It wasn’t that nothing ever happened in town: The weekly market on Fireday, bowls with his friends Starday afternoon, and the harvest festival every Lamashan. It was all just so...regular. Everyone seemed to like the predictability, even his friend Carliss, who always told him that “The Pack follows The Wagon,” whenever he complained to her about the town’s sleepy schedule. Cage felt lucky to have a job with Smith Jutz, and the work had certainly bulked him up and improved his bowls game, but even making axes, sharpening saws, and piecing together the occasional chain shirt was pretty tedious.
Walking past the Wander Inn, the young smith wondered if there were any travelers bedded down in its drafty rooms. The best groups brought stories of their exploits in the Boarwood or out around the Fog Peaks, but Cage always had to pick up the tales secondhand. His mother didn’t approve of him consorting with adventurers, and said she had her fill of “ruffians, tale-tellers, and Pathfinders'' during her time in the Sleepless Suns (long ago and far away). The most he could hope for was to borrow any rare tomes they had sold to the town bookseller and to grill the man about any juicy details of their adventures.
Cage heaved a melodramatic sigh as he arrived at the workshop on the edge of town, unlocked the heavy door, pushed his way inside, and set his bag down on the end of a bench. He tied his hair up in its topknot with a frown and went to start his daily routine by stirring up the forge. While he didn’t want his life to be an Ailson Kindler novel, or to have himself whisked away by a dust devil like Lucky Farouq, there had to be something more to living than smashing the same iron with the same hammer every day.
A strange noise caught his distracted attention, like the distant ringing of a bell. IT seemed to be coming from the woods behind the forge yard...
NG human fighter 1
Background: Wanderlust
Perception +5
Speed 25 feet
Languages Common, Draconic, Elven, Undercommon
Defenses
AC 18 (+20 with shield raised)
Fort +6, Ref +7, Will +3
HP 19
Deviant Abilities
TITAN SWING [two-actions] FEAT 2
RARE DEVIANT MAGICAL TRANSMUTATION
Your limbs tense as you deliver a mighty swing. Make a melee Strike. If it hits, you deal an extra die of weapon damage and push the target back by 5 feet. If you’re at least 10th level, increase this to two extra dice and push the target by 10 feet, and if you’re at least 18th level, increase it to three extra dice and push the target by 15 feet.
Awakening On a critical hit, you push the target back double the normal distance and knock it prone.
Awakening On a hit, you deal 1d6 persistent bleed damage. This increases to 2d6 at 10th level and 3d6 at 18th level.
BOTTING
Cage is a steady and cautious fighter. Usually he'll use his actions to move, attack with Combat Assessment, and raise his shield. He uses his reaction for Attacks of Opportunity unless he's doesn't have his shield up and Reactive Shield would prevent a hit or crit, or if he is going to be knocked unconscious if he doesn't Shield Block.
[dice=warhammer]1d20+9[/dice] for [dice=bludgeoning]1d6+8[/dice]
[dice=Fortitude]1d20+6[dice]
[dice=Reflex]1d20+7[/dice]
[dice=Will]1d20+3[/dice]
Combat Assessment
[dice=Arcana]1d20+5[/dice]
[dice=Nature]1d20+3[/dice]
[dice=Occultism]1d20+5[/dice]
[dice=Religion]1d20+3[/dice]
[dice=Society]1d20+5[/dice]
