Detect Magic
Detect Poison
Read Magic
Mage Hand
Message
Light
Level 1 (7/day):
Alarm
Magic Missile
Mage Armor
Enlarge Person
Ray of Enfeeblement
Level 2 (5/day):
Blur
Invisibility
Scorching Ray
Equipment:
Masterwork Dagger (302 gp)
Masterwork Heavy Mace (312 gp)
Masterwork Backpack (50 gp)
Bracers of Armor +1 (1000 gp)
Cloak of Resistance +1 (1000 gp)
Spyglass (1000 gp)
Scabbard of Vigor (1,800)
Eyes of the Eagle (2,500 gp)
Wand of Cure Light Wounds (750 gp)
Tanglefoort Bag x2 (100 gp)
Thunderstone (30 gp)
Universal Solvent x2 (100 gp)
Potion of Mage Armor x2 (100 gp)
Potion of Jump x2 (100 gp)
Potion of Reduce Person (250 gp)
Potion of Enlarge Person (250 gp)
Feather Token, Bird x2 (300 gp)
Crowbar (2 gp)
50 ft. Silk Rope (10 gp)
Everburning Torch (110 gp)
Magnifying Glass (100 gp)
Hourglass, 1 hour (25 gp)
Trail Rations x6 (3 gp)
Caltrops x5 (5 gp)
Ink, 2 oz. (16 gp)
Inkpen x2 (1 gp)
Parchment x5 (1 gp)
Bedroll
283 gp
History
Davhand was born to a wealthy family. He manifested his magical powers at a young age, and his parents were quick to hire him tutors to educate him in the arcane arts so that he might realize his full potential.
Davhand applied himself to his studies full heartedly, dedicating most of his days to studying or practicing his talents. But despite all of that, he lived a very relaxed life. He lived off the money of his wealthy parents and never had to work for a living, but in the end it wasn't enough for him.
He had, in the back of his mind, this sensation that there was more to his life. He knew that he had something he needed to do, some grand purpose to his existence that couldn't be realized if he sat on his haunches at his family's estate. Though his family did not wholly support him, when Belroar was 19 years old he borrowed a heavy sum of money from his parents and left, with the promise that he would see the world and come back to them a man.
But things didn't exactly work out the way he had expected. For the first year he lived off his parents money, seeing dozens of cities and learning so much about the lands beyond the one he had called home. But then the money ran out, and before he knew what was happening, Davhand was alone in a far-off land with no means of supporting himself. He took up a variety of jobs and trades, from his brief work as a mercenary to assisting a scholar in his research and studies. When he had the money, he would send letters home to his family, but he never received a response. Whether the letters ever even got there or not was a mystery to him.
So Davhand worked his way across the world, scraping together what money he could to support himself as he slowly worked his way home. The return journey took him four years, four weary years to finally arrive home again.
But his home was not as he left it. With his father dead and himself assumed missing, his younger brother had come into possession of the family estates. His last meeting with his brother was a cold affair, in which he was told point blank that he would not be welcome back again, though his brother would tolerate his existence so long as he did not attempt to contest the inheritance. Belroar was still young and proud, hardly humbled by what he had been forced to endure for the past several years. He agreed to his brother's terms with hardly a thought, for surely he didn't need ancient titles or money to realize his destiny?
Fast forward 30 years. Davhand has been working for the Pathfinder Guild for the majority of his adult life, living in Absalom. Though he's waited and waited for the day his destiny would reveal itself, when that one door would open, when his path would appear before him...he knows he's growing old. While he had been looking to the future his whole life, at this point Davhand just wants to go back. To relive his life as it was rather than hoping for a future in which he was someone great. But he knows he can't do that. The only thing really left to him is to move forward with his life, to stop waiting for destiny to knock on his door and to just get out there and find destiny for himself.
