Craig Lawrence's page

Step 1: write five things about your character’s concept and background, five things that you think are the most essential parts of your character. You don’t have to stop at five, if you like…this is just a minimum.
1- Craig's family is not the richest by any means. Dabbling in goat herding, dirt farming, and a bit of carpentry, but excelling at none. They were still good people, and this shaped a large part of Craig's personality. When things go bad, your only wealth is your loved ones.
2- Craig was a bit of a punk in his early adolescence and hung out with a few other troublemakers. When it went bad, as it was sure to, he found himself treated firmly but fairly and shown the light. His conversion was quick but sincere. He is still embarrassed by that past behavior and mistakes and feels he owes a debt to his community.
3- Craig wants to advise and guide, but he also tries to stay humble. These leads him to a frustrating mix of wanting to help others see what is right, without sounding holier than thou. Since he IS holier than most by definition, that middle ground can be a pain.
4- Craig detests animal cruelty. He understands you have to slaughter hogs and hunt but while many are better with animals than he is, he sees them as partners to people , not just as tools to be used.
5- Craig knows most folks want a holy man for healing but there's a part of him that enjoys getting to show Erastil's divine power a little more aggressively. He often smiles on those few times when his granted spell is dramatic and even frightening.
Step 2: List two goals for the character that you, as a player, think would be cool to see accomplished in-game.
Goal #1: Survival is good! Jokes aside, obviously he'll want to keep everyone alive. A goal that is not likely to occur, but he'd like to help as many as possible make it and restore their community. Either restore the old homes, or build a new one meant to last.
Goal #2: Erastil tends to encourage marriage and family. While Craig does not see women as broodmares or domestic bound, he is young enough to feel drawn to some women, and old enough to be mature about it. If he starts to fall for a young woman and she for him, he'll try to do right by her.

Step 3: List two secrets about your character. One is a secret the character knows, one is a secret that involves him but that he is not actually aware of yet. This will help me in creating plots that center around your character. I will also be creating a third secret which you as a player will not be aware of, so expect some surprises!
Secret #1- Craig's not big on keeping secrets that are his to share. Part of making his past right is owning up to it after all. However, at one time, he caught some of the village girls his age skinny dipping in a stream. He blushed furiously and retreated hastily but not before he saw a memorable birthmark. He hasn't had the nerve to admit it so he can apologize.
Secret #2- One secret Craig doesn't know is that priesthood is in his blood. He has an aunt he has never met, not in the area as far as anyone knows, who follows Urgothoa, the pallid princess and one of Erastil's few hated foes. Craig has never met his aunt (She's not living near the town) and his father has not talked much of his twisted sister and certainly not of her faith.

Step 4: Describe three people that are tied to the character though blood, romance or honor. Two of them are friendly to the character, one is hostile. All can do something useful for you, if you can get the situations to line up. If you like, you can include an enemy of yours here as well, so I have an instant NPC nemesis to throw at you.
1) Family- At the start of this, Craig has quite a few family members. He has one older brother, who has moved out, married and has a small (very) farm of his own. Craig himself is the next oldest, follow by less than a full year by his sister, who is something of a tomboy and unimpressed by Craig's ecclesiastical authority. The youngest brother is still the baby of the group and has some hero worship. Craig's parents are alive. They're humble folks just trying to get by.
2) Friend- Possibly anyone of the PCs who also grew up in town. Otherwise, someone Craig tried to bully, and failed. A good thumping, and a wiser Craig, when reformed, apologized proper like. They actually became friends. OR his friend, like him, was part of the bad crowd, and reformed too, in his or her own way.
3) Enemy- Craig's enemy is a former friend. One of those 'bad crowd' who scorned reforming and kept at theft and deceptions. When Craig asked him to stop, his ex friend sneered. Finally, left no choice, Craig informed the authorities that his former friend was the source of property theft and replacing good whiskey with nasty dangerous stuff.
Step 5: Describe three memories, mannerisms, or quirks that your character has. They don’t have to be elaborate but should provide some context and flavor.
1) (Mannerism) Craig talks folksy, not only is it expected of Erastil servants, it's how he was raised. He may use rural metaphors or sayings that sound odd to the more urban sorts.
2) (Memory) Craig recalls being out in a terrible storm, one that made him fear for his life as thunder caught him in an open field. He recalls praying for help and, as he managed to find shelter by accident, he suspects he got it. That was before he converted and a part of why he began to suspect the gods really do care. At least some of them.
3) (Quirk) When firing a bow, he often says "Praise Be", "Ol' Deadeye be pleased", or "Shrive him as I stick him" depending on the target and situation.

Craig Lawrence was already up with the sun, which is not atypical for poor folks trying to make a living in and around a small town on any day, but today wasn’t typical. It was the time of the Market Festival, where all the goods of artisans and farmers alike would begin their journey to the city of Tamran and supplies might be coming in as well. Heck the town was positively stuffed to the gills compared to its usual population, and someone long ago had decided that these profit making moments with strangers aplenty should be a time of celebration that might go well on past sunset.

But chickens still need to be fed, and some chores just can’t be skipped. And young acolytes of Erastil are supposed to set a good example. So from his cramped thatch roofed sleeping area in his family’s house, out slid Craig to tend to them. He wasn’t alone, of course. Even with his older brother set up on his own spread with his new wife about a mile away, there were plenty of folks sharing the Lawrence home.

Craig was the first up, splashing water on his face and combing his hair quickly before starting up the stove. His mother came in soon after, and smiled. Magda Lawrence was prettier than she had a right to be given years of toil and work, and having four children that tasked her mightily. Crowsfeet had begun to appear, and gray touched her hair, but she stayed slender and her eyes were bright.

“Thank you, Craig. I’ll take it from here, you feed the chickens and then go on, townsfolk may need you,” Magda Lawrence directed, “Your father can chop more wood if we need it.”

Craig wanted to protest he could do both, but ever since Erastil had granted him the power of true healing through prayers, his place in the town had gone up, as had the expectations of him. Which was only fair, as he’d been quite the troublemaker but a few years ago afore he found the path of Ol’ Deadeye.

He had a lot of amending to do. And part of that was putting his meager healing skills to work for others in Phaendar who might need it. In addition to loading or unloading wagons, there would be sports contests, competitions and more and while hopefully no one would get hurt; one never knew.

“Okay, mama,” Craig answered even as his father came out with a yawn, nodded to him and wished him a good morning with an affectionate grunt. Trom the elder had never been one for a lot of talk.
“Morning, Pa, Happy Market Day to you too. I’m off to feed the chickens.”

Soon he was breaking out the feed for the few chickens they had. Overall it was light work, often left to his siblings. As he spread the seeds, and made sounds to stir the chickens to meal time, he smiled to see his sandy haired younger brother come out to take advantage and see if any eggs had been laid.

“Hey, Craig, you gonna save a life today?” Stefan was ten and for some reason still thought his older brother was downright amazing. More so now that his brother was a proper holy man.

Craig knew he’d be lying if he didn’t find it flattering, “More like put a splint on a broken arm if someone falls off the barrel walking contest.”

A new voice spoke up, “More like Craig’ll be the one stepping and fetching the elder healers in town do the real healing, Stefan.”

It was Nayda, his sister. While she was younger than Craig, it was by less than a full year, and she remembered all too well the trouble her ‘older’ brother got into when they were in their early teens.
Nayda had been quite the Tomboy back then, and still was in a lot of ways, but it was obvious she was going just a bit extra this day; her hair was brushed and braided nicely, her peasant blouse was down right fancy by her usual standards, and her breaches fit better than what she usually wore.

Craig fought off any urge to warn her about getting too flirtatious with some of the strangers from out of town this night. All it would do would put a bee in her bonnet and have her do it just to show him he should mind his own.

And she’d also rib him why HE, a servant of Erastil, wasn’t so much as DATING right now, let alone having a wife. No, some battles did not need to be fought.

“That’s likely true,” He humbly replied instead, “We’re fortunate and blessed as a community to have more than one servant of a goodly god about, and let’s face it, if I were the best we’d have to offer there, we’d be in more trouble than a large nosed man in a cave full of skunks.”

“Hmph,” Nayda replied, possibly annoyed at his humility before she continued, “You going to try your hand at the archery contest?”

As a servant of Erastil’s church, Craig was expected to learn how to use a longbow, and had, though he felt nervous using it. The bow he’d been gifted was worth more than his family made in a year.
He shrugged, “I’ll give her a go, but there’s lots of shooters better than me. Hunters around here will be trading pelts and I got no chance out-shooting most of them. Still, for fun and practice, sure.”

His sister gathered up some goats to take them out, they didn’t have a proper amount truly, “Well, best of luck with that. Don’t embarrass the family.”

“Craig wouldn’t do that, he’s the best!” Stefan protested.

Craig couldn’t help it, he gave a slight smirk to his sister at their little brother’s praise, then said “Thank you for the trust, Stefan. And I see you found an egg. Good work.”

“Yup, gotta take it in, we’re gonna eat like kings,” The boy declared as he took the treasure into their small house.

Finishing up his own chores, Craig headed towards town. Even at this early hour, one could tell there were a lot more travelers going in. Footprints, wheel treads, and hoof prints were so plentiful on some of the roads that they nearly wiped each other out. It was no never mind to Craig, long as it helped the community.

Then he heard the scream. It wasn’t a human scream, but while he was no rider, he knew that sound well enough. That was a horse in pain. Craig raced towards the noise full tilt.

Craig didn’t know who the man beating the horse was. He hadn’t seen him here ever before, but the fellow had clearly fallen off the horse and decided to punish his mount for the indignity. There were mud and grass stains on the stranger’s fine clothes. In his pale hand he held a riding crop, the very device he was now whipping the horse with as his other hand held the reins so the horse couldn’t move. A more defiant steed would have stepped on his abuser’s foot or worse, but the poor beast was swaying rather than pulling away as Craig thought it might.

Craig grabbed the wrist that wielded the crop. He wasn’t the strongest lad in the village but he had the element of surprise and the man’s grip let it fly.

“What are you doing?” Craig demanded, trying to keep the heat of his voice from showing all the anger, “The horse won’t learn a thing from that kind of abuse.”

“How dare you lay a hand on me, you country bumpkin?” The newcomer seemed stunned at the audacity, “This is MY horse, it dropped me, and it is my right as it’s owner to discipline it!”

“It saved your life,” Craig informed him, “LOOK!” And pointed with his free hand to a few more paces back. There, a still writhing serpent’s body wriggled despite its crushed skull.

The stranger’s face paled, “Wait, is that venomous?”

“A wife finding out her husband is visiting a Callistran temple, you bet,” Craig said with disgust and moved to the horse, “Your horse took a bite, see these marks? Would have killed a man, may still kill your steed.”

Slowly the stranger’s rage drained out completely replaced by shock, “I could have died. I’ll have to get a new horse. Blast it all, the expenditures!”

Craig did not think he could like this man any less than he did, “It could be dying, you hit it for nothing, and you’re bellyaching about how you’re gonna have to WALK?” No staying calm on this one, he rolled his sleeves up and glared ire before realizing he didn’t have time to slap this fool.

“Wait, could be, you can save it?” the man asked.

Craig was already working on doing just that. With a small knife, and a few herbs, he got to work draining what of the venom he could, “Mister, I’ll tell you what. Even if I save this horse, I think it’ll be no good to you for weeks. I know someone who will buy it off you for three gold.”

“Three gold? The horse is worth three to five times that much” the stranger gasped even as Craig worked.

“They’ll pay 3 silver for the knackering,” He told the man flatly, “You agree or not?”

“Fine,” the stranger hissed, “I’ll have to buy a new horse anyway to leave this wretched town.”

That future purchase would not come cheap for the man. Craig would make sure of that. He would spread word of how the man treated his horses. Even if the local law didn’t take offense with animal cruelty, the folks who had horses to sell would. The stranger would find few would sell to him, and the ones who did would charge him the price for at least three horses.

Least that’s how Craig hoped it would work. He had faith in his god, and his god told him to have faith in his community.
He resumed his effort to save the horse. No magic would be used, he didn’t have the blessing for such but maybe skill would be enough to buy time so a greater healer could restore the horse that much sooner. He wished he could afford it himself, even at the reduced price he offered; he was just glad he knew good folks who could. Oh well, not like he was going anywhere.

This was his home.