About Connor son of CeorlShort Story – Guard Duty:
Connor wrapped his cloak around him as he watched his uncle speak to the headman of the local village that his people were being paid to guard. He was only seven years old and still unused to the damp, chill air of Brevoy during the winter, not yet hardened to it, though he did not complain about it. His eyes turned to scan the grasses between the village and the trees in the distance, barely a furlong away, and he looked with a small frown at the poorly constructed palisade walls and the two wooden towers that stretched mournfully on the northern and southern edges of the village. He watched his uncle Woden clasp hands with the headman then turn and make his way to them and call them together to speak them. ”We shall be paid for our aid here; as well as food and drink until the Yuletime at least,” he called out to them. ”But for now our chief concern are the orc raiders that keep coming from the south and east. Until they are dealt with this village shall be in danger,” he adds. The others waited to hear more, but a big man standing in the back answered. ”Why should we risk out necks for these villagers, eh? If they don’t have the strength to stand on their own legs then what good are they?” the burly man called out, a general ripple of agreement echoed among the others, some of them grunting with amused laughter at his obvious contempt for the villagers. Connor agreed privately, but he said nothing and turned to look at his uncle. He saw Woden grin appreciatively at the comment, but his eyes were not mirthful and Connor suspected his uncle was merely placating the crowd. Woden held up his hands and the others became quiet and he spoke. ”Oleg speaks truth,” he answered them ”and he is right; if the village cannot stand without us, why should we not take it now and keep their wealth and move on? Why wait for orcs to come and fight to protect the weak?” he continued as the others nodded, agreeing with this sentiment. Woden hopped onto a small mound of freshly heaped earth and shook his head, his face somber and grim. ”Aye! I had decided to do this my very self,” he says with a loud voice, but the words puzzled Connor, for he was with his uncle often and had seen nothing that made him believe that Woden had considered that option. Yet he said nothing and waited to hear more. ”Now, it is true that we could slay these folk with ease, and take their gold, aye. But what good is gold when winter comes? It cannot feed us, nor keep us warm; for that we need hearth and meat. And we may slaughter them with ease – aye – but if so, then we should be forced to leave their livestock behind, or stay to face the orcs ourselves,” he added, and this made sense to Connor. Winter was coming; they couldn’t feed themselves without game, and the goats and feed here would be hard to carry if they left this place. Would they find another store of ready supply that could help them all, and quickly, before the snows came? Unlikely. Besides, if they took what food that was left here, would not the orcs – driven by hunger – follow them quickly and simply fight them there, or worse, ambush them during the journey? It was logical to pick a place to defend oneself instead of letting your enemy choose that place. It was better to defend a place that had supplies for the winter rather than leave that to the realm of chance. And it was better to let these peasants live; for though they would eat some of the food his own folk wanted, if they were committed to standing as part of the defense it was reasonable to assume many of the villagers might die in that defense, yet those who lived would hold no special grudge against Connor's people; instead, they would blame only the orcs and gratefully share their food with those who aided them. It was so obvious that helping these villagers was the wiser choice, but folk like Oleg did not see things that way. To them “guard duty” was too mean and base a job for their hearts; they wanted action, and couldn’t see the bigger picture. Connor turned to look at Oleg and watched the big man’s lip twist in contempt. ”Who cares for such arguments? We have steel and strength; if we need food, we take it! If we want wealth, we take it! Why should we be reduced to haggling like merchants? Where is the glory in that?” Oleg called out, and some of the more boisterous folk murmured their agreement with him. Connor glanced at his uncle and wondered why Woden didn’t simply cut down Oleg for all this argument. It was not good for his people to fight amongst themselves; yet Woden didn’t debate with Oleg, instead he nodded his head, as if agreeing with the big warrior. ”Aye! That is true,” he said with a slow, thoughtful voice which made Connor’s eyes narrow in confusion. ”Oleg speaks the truth! We are proud warriors; great and mighty! We seek glory, and renown besides,” he said in a louder voice. ”I have done what I can to lead us; yet I have thought little of glory. We have wandered from place to place and seen little in the realm of great battle.” He gestured broadly to Oleg. ”Oleg is right; we seek honor and glory, and with our strength we prove to the gods we are worthy of their recognition. I honor Oleg, and his wisdom in this matter,’ he continued. ”Was it not Oleg who reminded me that here in this place we shall face battle at mighty odds; and instead of wandering between empty lands looking for glory which hides before us that if we stay here that the chance for renown shall come to us?” ”And Oleg’s wisdom is great; for to be victorious means to be honored as men of renown! He is right; if we killed these peasants first and then slew the orcs we should have none to bring us meat and drink and warmth for the night and serve us as mighty warriors deserved to be served,” he adds, as the others nodded in agreement at Woden's speech, many looking at Oleg with respect, and they seemed pleased at Oleg's wise suggestions. Connor himself felt a growing anger as well as confusion; for those were not Oleg's words at all. Indeed, only a mere collection of Oleg’s ideas were intermingled throughout his uncle’s speech, and most of those ideas his uncle shared where the opposite of what the burly warrior had suggested to the tribe. Turning to look at Oleg, Connor saw the man fold his heavy arms in front of his chest and smile a somewhat contemptuous smile at Woden. He saw Woden lower his head and nod somewhat deferentially at Oleg, and continue. ”Therefore, I agree with Oleg. To continue to run like dogs through the trees with no chance of glory to be found is foolish. Far better to stay here when battle and honor come to beg for our blades; far better to let these peasants live so that they may give us our due when we are clearly victorious!” He bows somewhat before Oleg who nods back. ”Aye! Good, then let’s be about it,” the large warrior called back to Connor’s uncle. Woden nods, almost dejectedly. ”Aye, then,” he says. ”In this case will you go into the southern watchtower? Let them see you stand strong!” he adds as Oleg grunts. ”I shall go into the tower, but there is little point. The orcs are fools; we have little to fear from them. Their blood on our blades is the only thing they are good for,” he says with a growl, then turns and heads to the tower and is soon in its heights as the group disperses. Woden calls out to one of the villagers. ”Send a drink to my friend in the tower; something strong to keep him warm when he is on watch,” he says with a friendly voice as the villager looks a bit perplexed at the request, but then turns and obeys. Connor watches Oleg in the tower, drawing his heavy cloak over broad shoulders and sees a peasant bring him to him a heavy skin filled with rich mead which Oleg draws up in a bucket hanging from a hemp rope dangling from the summit of the tower. He wraps his cloak tighter about him, then takes a deep drink. Connor scowls at this display; to drink while on guard duty was asking for trouble. He turned to speak to his uncle and noticed Woden was talking to a slightly built man in their tribe named Leif; a man good with a bow, though lean and quiet; by many called sly. Leif glanced to the tower and than nods to Woden and suddenly runs to the village and beyond to the trees to the north. Then he disappeared into the woods on some errand. Connor was even more confused and came to his uncle to speak to him. He saw Woden watching the men begin to take long grass and weave it into crude mats as they joked in the town. He moved to his uncle who turned and saw him scowling at him. Woden nodded at the men and moved to his nephew and put his heavy hand on Connor’s shoulder. ”So; you come to ask me what I’m about, eh?” he says with a small, crooked grin. Connor felt angry at the question, but the entire matter was annoying to him. ”Aye!” he says after a moment. ”I do not understand you, uncle,” he says with a tight voice. ”It is wise to stay here rather than starve in the wild; it is wise to have aid when orcs attack, rather than kill folk who might help us against the orcs; and it is wise to join with these folk rather than gamble on orcs. This is all true, yet the folk will thank Oleg for this, not you. They will see him as wise, not you! Why would you say those things were his wisdom when that is not so?” he demanded somewhat haughtily. His uncle watched the southern trees and said nothing for a time. ”Do you think yourself more clever than all of the men here, or merely Oleg?” he asked eventually. Connor frowned, but his uncle continued. ”You saw what I did; so did others. Oleg did not, for he is a fool, but he has uses other than wisdom,” he says with a friendly smile, but his voice was less cheerful. ”The wise will see what I did and so they shall respect my cunning. Those who are too foolish to understand what I did – what do they matter? They are naught but sheep; if they can be fooled so easily once, they can be fooled again, so they are no consequence,” he added. Connor frowned and looked to Oleg who drank of the mead and had sat down comfortably on the wooden planks high above the ground, pulling his cloak tighter. ”But Oleg challenged you. A wise leader should not tolerate such challenges, they only encourage others,” he responded after a moment, still upset at Oleg’s attitude. Woden turned and looked at Connor. ”What would you have done, eh? Would you have called him out now?” he asked with a toneless voice as Connor thought about that. ”If I had called him out, then there might have been two outcomes. The first is that – in a matter of hot blood – some folk who supported his opinions just now may have suddenly decided to rally to his side, for blood often swamps wisdom. At which point our folk may have ended up fighting against each other and that would have helped none of us." "At the least I would have had to fight him myself single-handedly. If I could defeat him in single combat – and I may not be able to for he is a skilled warrior despite his bluster – yet if I won, what of it? I would have only succeeded in weakening our number before a battle,” he continued with a small scowl at his nephew. Connor thought about that for a moment. ”But he thinks he bested you before our folk. He will nurse that victory and surely try again,” Connor said slowly. ”Aye! For he is pride filled and desires to be before all others in all things,” Woden responded, his grin slowly returning. ”He seeks to show his superiority in words – more so in battle, eh? It will be easy to encourage him to lead us in a charge against a horde of enemies. Then he shall kill many of our enemy for us, before he dies a heroes death leading that same charge,” his uncle continued as Connor’s eyes widen. ”Do you mean that you shall send him to die?” he asks his uncle as Woden’s eyes widen in surprise. ”Never say such a thing, for he is still a shield brother,” his uncle responded sternly. ”However," he continues with a more relaxed voice "if Oleg is the sort that puts himself forward before me... As you know I am not the sort who shall refuse the desire of a warrior to stand in the front and thick of battle." "And if he thinks his wisdom greater than mine – so great that he ignores my commands in battle, to the point that he even chooses to do the opposite of what I say, simply to prove his own superiority… Well, I have no control over such decisions,” Woden adds, his voice less fierce as he shrugs his shoulders, almost morosely. Connor stares at his uncle with a wide-eyed look for a moment, than his own expression becomes more relaxed as he stands with his uncle for a while in quiet thought. He looks to Oleg and sees the heavy warrior pulling his cloak about him even more and taking another drink of the mead. ”What did you send Leif to do?” he asks suddenly. Woden grins widely at the request. ”I sent Leif to climb that pine tree – there,” his uncle says pointing to a tall pine tree to the south, covered in thick branches. Connor stares at the tree, then turns to look over his shoulder to the north in confusion, then back to his uncle who looks at the trees, and he sees a a wide smile on Woden’s face. ”You are thinking maybe that you saw Leif go north, eh? You saw that, as did all the others. And you are thinking also that Oleg is drinking on guard duty, and that is not good, too.” He looks at Connor directly and continues. ”And you assume that if Oleg continues to drink that he shall soon be asleep. And that if an enemy came in stealth in the trees and saw our only guard in the tower fast asleep than they should have little fear of who might guard this village. And you know, too, that the peasants here might demand Oleg to wake up and look frightening, but none of them have the courage to tell a man as big as Oleg that he is being a bad guard, so he shall sleep and our enemy shall see him sleeping and they shall fear us even less.” He grins and looks at the trees. ”I do not know as much as others, but I would think that as crafty with the wood that enemy may be they shall all be staring at the sleeping guard in the tower and not bother to look for Leif who has moved in a wide circle from the north in the trees until he came south, where our enemy comes from.” ”As the enemy comes from the south I should think that they will do so again. Surely they would know the villagers have more folk about and guess they hired protection; yet – maybe – the orcs shall be overconfident when they see the protection of the village sleeping in the tower. Maybe they won’t think to look in the trees to see if there are other more crafty guards that are hidden. And maybe – if they are overconfident – then they shall move too quickly to the crude wooden walls – walls surrounded by deep trenches filled with spikes, though the spikes and trenches shall be covered with grass mats ere sundown,” he adds as Connor’s eyes widen. ”And – assuredly – you also have realized that if Oleg manages to rouse himself in an attack and move to fight the enemy that he will likely be eager to fight but – alas – he will likely be besotted with drink. No doubt if he wakes Oleg might charge forward to fight, even against the orders of a wise leader… Of course, because of that drink, he shall not charge far; though he will likely kill many before he is overwhelmed,” his uncle adds with a sad voice. ”Then the enemy shall be confused and we shall be victorious and – perhaps – those who chose to ignore their leader shall die the glorious death that they deserve; yet not before many of our foes are slain.” Connor pulls his cloak tighter around his shoulders, feeling a cold chill grip him as he watches his uncle stare down at him and sees the smile. ”Of course, who knows what shall happen in the night?” his uncle says with a shrug. ”Yet a wise leader considers the future carefully, and so he lives longer because of it. Remember that, if you wish to live a long life,” he adds with a friendly voice as he claps Connor on the shoulder. Pic of Character
Connor meets Kobolds Part 1:
It was a grim, cold morning and Connor felt a sleepy exhaustion in his limbs as his uncle woke him before the daylight spilled over the horizon. ”Get up, Connor, it is time for you to learn something,” he said to his nephew with flat eyes. Connor shook his head and pulled himself up, groping around him for his clothing as his uncle turned and left him to get ready. As Connor pulled the long, thigh-length, woolen shirt over his head, he picked up a belt and cinched it around his waist. Then he picked up some trousers and slid each leg into them as he blinked his eyes a bit, then stuffed his feet into stiff leather boots and stumbled out of the stone house carved in the cliff wall. Glancing to his left and right he saw other similar rooms and chambers carved in the cliff that he knew were currently occupied by the rest of the people of his tribe while they wintered in the city. The chill had shook the sleep from his limbs and he felt the icy fingers of the weather reach to grip his body through the wool shirt and trousers, the sound of his boots crunching in the frosted snow the only thing he was able to hear at the time. He turned and glanced to the south and saw the massive cliff that rose to the heights of the lower walls of the main fortress, which stretched far above the valley that he stood in, their summit somewhat veiled with mist rising from the waterfall that spilled beyond to the south. As he stared to the south he took a deep breath of the cold air and watched the mist billow from his lips but ignored the cold, for though he was barely fourteen summers he was still a northman and he refused to let the winter winds bother him. He heard the crunch of approaching boots pressing against the icy snow behind him, but did not bother to turn for he knew it was his uncle. ”Where are your weapons?” his uncle barked at him. ”It is early and there are no enemies near; I did not need them to greet the dawn,” Connor replied as his eyes flicked to the east and scanned the high hills of the cliffs which flanked the valley. He heard a low growl behind him. ”When you are a Jarl and rule your own tribe then you may decide to do stupid things. But as long as you travel with me I will not let you be a fool,” his uncle grated. Connor said nothing and continued to keep his gaze fixed on the east to watch the slowly rising sun. Suddenly he heard a whooshing sound behind him, but before he could turn he felt a heavy weight slam into his shoulder. He quickly realized that it was the iron pommel of his uncle’s dirk which had smashed into his shoulders even as the sudden attack knocked him off balance and pushed him into the snow before him. As his palms slammed into the crystallized snow he twisted his body to roll to the side and reached quickly for the dirk which lay near him. Looking up he saw his uncle was moving to him and his axe was already out and loose in his hand. Connor felt the hilt of the dirk and he gripped it tightly as he scrambled backwards quickly as his uncle’s eyes gleamed cold fire, confused at why his uncle was suddenly being so aggressive. ”You are the son of the firstborn of our tribe. You killed your first Man two years ago and you had your first lover during the rains last fall. You are growing large and perhaps ambitious. Maybe I must kill you now so you do not try to take what I have made for myself,” his uncle rasped and suddenly swung his axe at Connor with a brutal viciousness which Connor barely had time to allude. Connor’s eyes were wide and he felt fear twist in his belly as he watched his uncle grip the haft of the axe and tear it from the snows. Connor sprang to his feet and switched the dirk in his hand so that the length of the blade was close to his forearm like a shield; good for slashing and parrying, but not able to pierce. His uncle bounded to him and Connor raised the blade of the dirk and caught the edge of his uncle’s axe, but suddenly he felt his uncle’s boot lift heavily into his groin and send him gasping backwards. Connor’s hand was still tight on the hilt of the dirk as he struggled to keep his uncle’s axe from pushing into his arm. Despite his size, Connor’s uncle was easily able to push him back and as the young man collapsed back in to the snow his uncle moved over him again and slammed his axe down hard and fast into the snow an inch from Connor’s head. Then he leaned his scowling face in close to Connor. ”The next time you say there are no enemies remember what happened this morning.” ”Men, beasts, gods; all of them may claim to be your ally, and all allies will promise that they shall never betray you. Maybe they speak the truth, but never forget that no man who claims to be your friend will ever betray or hurt you – until the day comes when they change their mind.” His uncle leaned back and looked down at Connor. ”Never leave your weapons again; the next time I may not be so generous,” he says as Connor coughs a bit, then struggles to his feet. As he stood he felt the slow warmth of the sun spill over the eastern hills and begin to heat the thick clumps of snow clinging to his woolen clothes. The melting snow was now turning to chill moisture that made the clothes stick to him with a damp grip that he found uncomfortable. He considered returning the dirk to his uncle but decided to keep it. As he pondered his uncle's words he switched the grip so the length of the blade rose above his fist, rather than below it, then wrapped his arms in front of his chest to keep himself warmer. Despite the chill and the receding adrenaline, he kept his face and expression impassive and turned slowly to his uncle. ”You said I was to learn something, uncle.” ”What was this thing you need to teach me so early, other than to never forget my weapons,” he added with a neutral voice as he saw his uncle turn a stern glance at him. His uncle watched him for a minute then jerk his head to the cliffs to the south of the valley. ”I have done a service to the captain of their Queen’s Guard,” he answered after a moment. ”To repay the debt he offered me a reward, but I refused what he offered.” Connor turns his gaze to study the face of his uncle, yet the impassive look which he struggled to cultivate broke into a somewhat confused expression at that somewhat bald statement. His uncle saw the look and grunted in frustration at his nephew. ”I told him I wanted neither arms nor armor, nor did I want gold or jewels, for the those things can be found or taken and, therefore, they are not very important. Instead I told him that the reward I craved was knowledge, and so I demanded that he provide instruction for me and my kin.” He folded his heavy arms over his chest and turned to look at the cliffs to the south and Connor turned to stare at those cliffs as well. His eyes lifted up the stone walls to the mighty spires and towers that crowned the top, their peaks and pinnacles looking like a massive stone crown perched in the mist rising from the waterfalls beyond. His uncle suddenly pointed to the cliffs and they both saw something gliding from their surface in a wide, lazy arc that meandered through the skies above them. Connor watched it and his eyes narrowed and he stepped back a pace, though his uncle remained motionless. It was obvious that this great beast had likely seen them. Its moved faster and it seemed that now it was not deviating much from its chosen course. Connor put his hand to his eyes to shade them from sunlight which now gleamed to his left as he stared at the creature wheeling in the sky. He saw it grow even larger as it swooped to his right, then banking back hard to the left; the screech of a mighty eagle echoing in the daylight as it swooped down toward them like a thunderbolt. Then, suddenly, it dropped from the sky and slammed into the snow several feet before them. Connor stared at the massive, noble face of the giant eagle before him. He watched its golden eyes stare at him with cool contempt and then saw it turn its head to preen the feathers at his shoulders as its rider leapt from its back and landed in the snow besides it. Connor glanced beyond the rider to the head of the beast, and then stared beyond the thick feathers at the neck and saw the forelegs of a giant eagle planted in the snow. He then saw beyond the neck and shoulders and the golden fur of a lion’s body. He saw the heavy paws of its hindquarters curl behind it and realized what he saw was actually a griffon even as the creature leaned back to sit proudly before him, the length of its tail lashing behind it. Connor then turned a glance at his uncle, then looked back at the rider, who was heavily cloaked and hooded in the cold air. The rider moved forward and Connor saw a longsword at his belt and saw, also, that his torso was covered by a finely wrought breastplate. He noticed that the rider was smaller than both he and his uncle, standing at a little more than five feet in height, and Connor peered at the face, trying to make out what he would look like beyond the hood and mask. The rider placed his gloved hand on his chest and bowed to Connor’s uncle, who returned the bow with a polite nod of his head. Then the rider turned to look at Connor, who returned the stare with undisguised curiosity. The rider then undid the heavy scarf around his lower face and let it hang loose around his shoulders and then threw the thick hood back over his head and fixed Connor with a cool gaze. Connor maintained his composure as he stared at the rider, for he saw reptilian eyes staring at him from dragon-like face; the scales of the face seemed to gleam with a metallic light, shimmering like polished silver. As Connor looked at the creature with wide eyes the creature’s lips spread and its needle-like teeth shone in the sun. Connor gripped the hilt of his uncle’s dirk tightly before he realized that the creature was merely smiling at him. ”Salutem, Connor filius Ceorl,” the creature said with a surprisingly deep voice, the words and language seeming strange to Connor and he peered at it with confusion. His uncle grinned at Connor’s reaction even as Connor turned to stare at his uncle and then turned his gaze back to the reptilian creature with metallic, silver scales standing before him. ”My apologies. That was my Mother Tongue, by some called Draconic,” the silver-scaled creature said. The creature turns a glance at Connor’s uncle for a moment and then turns back to Connor, the sunlight rippling over his metallic scales. ”I am First Spear of the Golden Griffons; the Royal Guard to Her Majesty, the Queen of the nation of Praxis,” he adds, as if this title should inspire some reaction. However, Connor said nothing in response and after a moment the creature continued. ”Well met, then, Connor son of Ceorl. I am Sargon, son of Sylvath; Knight of the City of Saravale, and I am to be your tutor,” he said with grave courtesy as the griffon behind him lifted its head and stared at Connor under the light of the rising sun. Connor said nothing, but merely returned the stare and wondered at this new turn of events...
Interaction with Delfi:
Delfi the Serving Girl NPC wrote: "Master Connor, I will continue to practice with my daggers when my chores are done as my execution could do with improving. I am no fighter, like you, but I would protect my person and those I love." Connor nods his head at her response. "In this we are of one mind," he says to her. "While it is true that fighting can be seen like a sport to some, and that some men love to fight merely to test their skill and strength - others still will fight to help them release what trials plague their inner mind - yet my uncle has always said that the first duty of anyone learning to fight is to learn to defend another." He gives her a dry smile as if the process of recalling his uncle's wisdom evoked mixed emotions, yet whatever his own private thoughts are do not dissuade him from continuing. "My uncle told me that a warrior must learn to defend first; else he shall be killed sooner and be no good to anyone." "He also told me that men who fight for sport or anger are men who do not put their mind to victory. Those who fight for sport will overlook a victory that seems "unfair" and those who fight for emotion will overlook an opportunity because their minds are bent and they cannot think well when fighting." "Further, it is the duty of the tribe to protect itself, else the tribe shall fall - and that is unforgivable," he adds with a serious voice, as if this is something he truly agrees with. "With my people women and men both learned to be effective killers, for that is best." "When the men when to hunt or raid then the women would be protecting the village while the men were gone - for it was sensible that women who were nursing young or women who bled during their time of the moon would not be the best to help on the trail; yet, to be fair, women who were not held to these issues did come with the men to hunt and raid if they could." "In any case, with my people it was said that a mother who did not try to defend her young from an enemy was not a good mother and thus did our women learn to fight - indeed, even our children would fight - for what goodly son or daughter would refuse to help defend his home or kin if his mother or father were cut down before him?" he asks somewhat rhetorically. "Even so, both men, women and children learned to fight along side their companions as any of our tribes would." "For these strategies it was true that some men - being larger and stronger than others - some of those would use a heavy axe or longsword and cleave the shields of their enemies before they struck." "Other folk were sometimes leaner or more nimble and they would take for themselves the dagger and slide behind enemies - either to distract an enemy from their allies with heavy weapons, or at least to find a vital spot that even a dagger could do much damage to." He looks at her thoughtfully. "In you a see a girl who I think shall become a wise women, for you are already clever," he says the last word somewhat strangely. Of course, that was not unusual, for with Connor it was cleat the word "Clever" seemed to have a far greater range of subtlety than the usual meaning of the word to most civilized people. "Now, there is no harm in learning the dagger, but I am not learned in the style of this weapon. Perhaps our friend Riley knows more of how to handle the blade better?" He turns to gesture to Riley and then pauses, as if a sudden thought has entered his mind and his eyes linger - studying her carefully. "Of course..." he says slowly as he looks at her "weapons of iron and steel are said to be no match for the power of the gods - and they often avail little against sorcery..." he adds, his mind suddenly wondering again at her background - and her bloodline. "Perhaps you may have other gifts unguessed beyond the weapons we are skilled in - and if not, perhaps you may learn of them?" he says as he rubs his chin thoughtfully. "In which case, if you feel you have the Gift," he adds, an odd emphasis on the word "gift" "then I would advise speaking to either of the women in my company, for I deem that they may be better at teaching you to harness those powers then I am." Questionnaire:
What does your character value most in life? New horizons. While this seems rather esoteric, ever since he was young he was taught that the best thing in life is to be constantly exploring what is over the next horizon. Don’t let civilization shackle you like a prison; being on the move, exploring new lands, new peoples, new cultures, new sites, this is what's best in life. Finding a previously undiscovered country of civilization is – to him – something special and unique. And when he finds that new place he intends to live in it, to learn its ways, its policies, and pretty much everything he can about that civilization before he moves on. His uncle told him that the greatest strength that a Human has is that their lifespan is generally the shortest of all other beings. Therefore, Humans - more than any other race - are forced to suck the marrow of life far more intensely than other sentient species. Consequentially, Humans appreciate life more. In other words; live life richly and see everything that it has to offer. Life is too short to do otherwise. What are their immediate goals? Right now he’s probably considering killing Sir Pelle Benhovy. The man was instrumental in interfering with his contract. Because of Benhovy’s actions Connor was forced to defend his honor about a smuggling issue he honestly didn’t know about. Also, thanks to Benhovy, Connor was not paid. That Silas Gribb was a smuggler and probably criminal doesn’t really matter as much to Connor. The point is – Benhovy was the man who directly complicated Connor’s life. Benhovy should probably have to suffer for that, and Connor has no issue with making that happen. What are their future goals? Connor’s extended family came from Varisia and emigrated east through the lands of the Mammoth Lords, through Numeria and then Brevoy. Connor was born on the borders of Brevoy and the Northern River Kingdoms and grew up raiding southern Brevoy and parts of some local Baronies in the River Kingdoms. However, having seen and heard a great deal of the Northlands he is now eager to travel south and discover the world in that direction. He is currently interested in Osirion. Though he is somewhat suspicious of magic users (and Osiron has many) he would like to explore it in the future. He already knows that the climate and the architecture is radically different; what are the people like? What about the ruins and the mighty buildings of bygone ages? He doesn’t know, but he’d like to learn more. What are your character's most obvious blessings/strengths/aptitudes? Connor’s most obvious “blessing” is that – for a barbarian killer – he’s actually fairly wise. While he is not what you’d call “book smart” (though he can read), he’s generally good at “reading” people; learning who they are and what makes a person tick. Because of this, his intensity and violence in combat is often tempered with a more relaxed manner around the campfire. Also, despite his martial background, he rarely “charges in” to a dangerous situation without considering things and forming a good plan. His father died when he was young, and his mother died when he was seven and he was raised by his uncle and his cousins. His uncle taught him that the gods were far more pleased with a man who was “clever warrior” then a man who simply rushed in a slaughtered people. In fact, his clan would reward someone for a “cunning” victory far more than a simple, mindless victory. What are your character's most obvious flaws/quirks/foibles/weaknesses? His most obvious flaw (judged by many) is that he does not consider lying to be immoral. To him, lying is merely a good story, and often the foundation of a cunning plan. The irony is that if you lie to him and he sees through your lie, then he will judge you as immoral. However, this is because – to him – your immorality was not because you lied, but because you were so stupid that your lie was not clever enough to fool him. This attitude about truths/lies often makes it hard for people to trust him. But even if he lies to his friends, he typically does this if he thinks the cause is “good”. So, for example, he would obviously lie to a judge to protect his friend if he was on trial and asked about his friend. However, Connor would probably would lie to his own friend about some key information if Connor suspected that his friend would tell people “the truth” and get himself in a trouble (in other words, if Connor was friends with a paladin, Connor might intentionally lie to his friend the paladin so that if the paladin had to go on trial the paladin wouldn’t blurt out something that could get the paladin in trouble; thus, lying to his friends to protect his friends). This attitude often confuses and baffles many good people, including his friends, but he doesn’t see being deceptive as “wrong” – merely being clever. Are they any conflicts which may arise from your character's past? If yes, what form will they take and from whom? Possibly. He has had many issues with raiding baronies in the River Kingdoms. He was responsible for killing a criminal leader named “DeVille”. He allied with a recently established Noble House in the River Kingdoms named “Esserian” and attacked some Ustalavian warlords. However, he hasn’t done much in Taldon yet, as he has only recently arrived. Does your character have a criminal past/record? Well, if it helps, he was never formally convicted of anything. In any legal situation it seemed that witnesses either recanted their statements or didn’t even show up to the trials… Is there any race, creed, alignment, religion or the like which your character is highly prejudiced for or against? Not really a specific group. He’s generally a bit contemptuous of the “cushy” lifestyle; often eschewing “too much finery”. But this is because (generally) he does not trust civilization. In his world a man who has a grievance will either say the grievance and deal with it then (generally a very black and white solution) or they’ll forget about the issue. Political intrigue; noble houses fighting each other; and (mostly) people who are very obviously bad/evil using a “legal loophole” or a high priced lawyer or any trick of the law to avoid being punished annoys the hell out of him. Ironically, the few times he was on trial he managed to avoid convictions because he himself was clever. However, he doesn’t feel that was a problem because he doesn’t see himself as a bad person. Does your character have any significant rational or irrational fears, phobias or paranoias? Not really any that I can think of. His mother taught him a proverb when he was young, which he often repeats when nervous about something – “I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.” --->*a) What, if anything, would it take for your character to overcome this? N/A --->*b) How does your character react when this fear/phobia/paranoia manifests itself? N/A Does your character have any unusual or nervous mannerisms/ticks, which appear when talking, thinking, afraid, under stress, or when embarrassed? He has a tendency to talk with his hands and also tends to be a bit animated when telling stories. Grand gestures and exciting expressions help make a story feel more real and exciting to him. Coming soon: details in the backstory… Attack Bonuses:
Weapons/Damage Weapon Attack Dam. Crit. Battle Axe +4 1d8+3 x3 - With Rage +6 1d8+5 x3 MW Short Sword +5 1d6+3 19-20x2 - With Rage +7 1d6+5 19-20x2 Defense Bonuses:
Defense Bonuses Armor Type AC Bonus Dexterity Mod : 0 Armor : +4 Shield : +2 Misc. Modifier : +1 Flat Footed : 16 AC : 17 HP : 25 Combat Bonuses:
Combat Bonuses
Can use two attacks per round at attack at =
+4/+4 – with Rage and Power Attack for a bonus of +2 for Power Attack and +5 for Strength Note: Can use a CMB in place of an attack. Feats:
Bonus Feat: Dodge: You gain a +1 dodge bonus to your AC. A condition that makes you lose your Dex bonus to AC also makes you lose the benefits of this feat. Improved Unarmed Strike: At 1st level, a monk gains Improved Unarmed Strike as a bonus feat. A monk's attacks may be with fist, elbows, knees, and feet. This means that a monk may make unarmed strikes with his hands full. There is no such thing as an off-hand attack for a monk striking unarmed. A monk may thus apply his full Strength bonus on damage rolls for all his unarmed strikes. Usually a monk's unarmed strikes deal lethal damage, but he can choose to deal nonlethal damage instead with no penalty on his attack roll. He has the same choice to deal lethal or nonlethal damage while grappling. Stunning Fist: You must declare that you are using this feat before you make your attack roll (thus, a failed attack roll ruins the attempt). Stunning Fist forces a foe damaged by your unarmed attack to make a Fortitude saving throw (DC 10 + 1/2 your character level + your Wis modifier), in addition to dealing damage normally. A defender who fails this saving throw is stunned for 1 round (until just before your next turn). A stunned character drops everything held, can’t take actions, loses any Dexterity bonus to AC, and takes a –2 penalty to AC. You may attempt a stunning attack once per day for every four levels you have attained (but see Special), and no more than once per round. Constructs, oozes, plants, undead, incorporeal creatures, and creatures immune to critical hits cannot be stunned. A monk may attempt a stunning attack a number of times per day equal to his monk level, plus one more time per day for every four levels he has in classes other than monk. Times Per Day: 1 Saving Throws:
Fortitude: 6 = 4 – 2
Skills:
Title.......... Total Ranks Stat Bonus
Background Skills [url=http://www.d20pfsrd.com/skills/knowledge]Knowledge Skills Knowledge: Geography: 6 = 1 – 1 – 3 – 1
Traits:
Affable: You gain a +2 trait bonus on Diplomacy checks to gather information, and can do so in half the normal time. In addition, Diplomacy and Knowledge (local) are always class skills for you. Nomadic: You gain a +1 trait bonus on Knowledge (geography) and Survival checks, and one of these skills (Geography) is always a class skill for you.
Equipment:
Survival Kit – 4 lbs – 5 GP Bedroll – 5 lbs – 1 SP MW Darkwood Shield 257 GP
Sunrod: 2 Current Total: 101 GP and 9 SP Entire Character Sheet in One Spoiler:
PC Name: Connor son of Ceorl
Stats
Light : 0-76 lbs Medium: 77-153 lbs
Saving Throws
Combat Bonuses
Defense Bonuses
Weapons/Damage
Weapons/Armor Proficiencies
Skills
# This Skill is modified with Gear (see below)
Languages
Racial/ Class Abilities Bonus Feat: Combat Expertise, +1 Skill Point
Background Skills
Gear On Person
In Backpack
Spent GP: 77 GP, 1 SP
Total Weight 57 lbs Feat Description Power Attack: Subtract a +1 to Attack Bonus and add +2 to Damage Bonus. Increase +1 every +4 BAB.
Traits Affable: You gain a +2 trait bonus on Diplomacy checks to gather information, and can do so in half the normal time. In addition, Diplomacy and Knowledge (local) are always class skills for you. Nomadic: You gain a +1 trait bonus on Knowledge (geography) and Survival checks, and one of these skills (Geography) is always a class skill for you. Racial/Class Ability Description Rage (Ex)
While in rage, a barbarian gains a +4 morale bonus to her Strength and Constitution, as well as a +2 morale bonus on Will saves. In addition, she takes a –2 penalty to Armor Class. The increase to Constitution grants the barbarian 2 hit points per Hit Dice, but these disappear when the rage ends and are not lost first like temporary hit points. While in rage, a barbarian cannot use any Charisma-, Dexterity-, or Intelligence-based skills (except Acrobatics, Fly, Intimidate, and Ride). A barbarian can end her rage as a free action and is fatigued after rage for a number of rounds equal to 2 times the number of rounds spent in the rage. A barbarian cannot enter a new rage while fatigued or exhausted but can otherwise enter rage multiple times during a single encounter or combat. If a barbarian falls unconscious, her rage immediately ends, placing her in peril of death. Fast Movement (Ex)
Notes on Dwarf Language found Here. NOTE: Receive 1/1 free Reroll on any d20 roll - courtesy of GM for passing 500 post mark! |
