Doran Tidewrack's page

Doran looks every inch a sailor, albeit a very small one, as he is a halfling. He has roughly-cut, brown hair lightened by salt and sun, and pale green eyes in a sun-darkened face. Doran is quite young, but his wind-burned, tan skin, and a dark blue tattoo of three waves on the right side of his neck, suggest many leagues of travel lie behind him. A small, weathered horn bow protrudes over his right shoulder, and a dagger at his hip is his only other visible weapon. He wears worn and salt-streaked leathers of an indeterminate black-brown, his bare feet nearly as dark and hardened by the elements. He stands only as tall as a human child of 5 sailing seasons, but moves with the sure grace of someone born to the rigging of a storm-tossed ship.

Doran was born a slave in Cheliax, property of House Jenidar, a prosperous Westpool trading family who owned a fleet of ships that sailed the Inner Sea and beyond. His owners set him to work as a ship’s boy by the age of eight and, though many halflings in Cheliax suffer miserably, Doran loved the life at sea. His work was hard, no doubt of that, and the sight of free folk in the many ports he visited caused him pain, but he loved seeing new places, people and wonders of the world, as only a sailor could.

His career at sea began hopefully enough, as he showed himself to be a natural sailor and a hard worker, but fate began to frown on him just after his 14th birthday. The Black Wind, the ship on which the eldest Jenidar son served as captain, went down as it neared home after a voyage of many months. The ship ran over an uncharted reef, off the western coast of Cheliax, and all hands perished save Doran. He managed to struggle to shore, and was picked up by local guardsmen who had seen the wreck from the coast. They ascertained the name and owner of the ship, and returned Doran to House Jenidar under escort. As the messenger bearing the news to Lord Jenidar of the loss of his son and heir, Doran was fortunate to escape with his life. He was beaten and questioned repeatedly, but in the end it was decided that he was too valuable as a skilled sea-slave to kill him for merely surviving the shipwreck.

Doran returned to the sea soon after, and all went well enough until his 17th year, when his ship was set upon by Andoran privateers and sunk after inadvertently being set ablaze. Again, he was the only survivor, managing to stay afloat for most of a day before finding a piece of floating wreckage and clinging to it until a fishing boat picked him up. Doran knew that to return to Cheliax this time would mean his death for certain, and he asked the fishermen to take him with them to Andoran. They did so, but sailors are an intensely superstitious lot, and on bringing Doran to Augustana they spoke freely about how he had been rescued, and said he was surely cursed by Gozreh. As a result, no Andoran sailors would tolerate his presence on their ships, and he struggled to make ends meet, his skills ill-suited to a life on land.

Desperate to return to the life he loved at sea, and unable to find a place on a decent ship, Doran turned to piracy, joining a ragged band with a derelict ship that harassed the coasts near his home. He took to the life well enough, the occasional cruelty and treachery greatly offset by his freedom from slavery, and wondered if he would end his days a pirate.

Sadly, the Fortune’s Bride, the floating wreck that the pirates used to ply their trade, also sank, in the waters off the Isle of Kortos. The Bride was doomed to sink soon enough, old and battered as it was. But Doran’s crewmates, or at least those who survived and made it to Kortos, blamed him for its loss, having heard a bit of his tale from Doran, and more of it from idle ships’ hands gossiping about the cursed halfling sailor. Doran managed to evade the vengeful crew long enough to make his way to Absalom. Even so, aware that his former mates would find him soon enough, Doran knew he had to risk all and take to the sea again.

He fears he is truly a “Jonah” cursed by a cruel sea-god. At the same time, he knows himself to be an exceptionally skilled sailor, by dint of birth and years at sea, and he knows no other trade. In either case, his innate halfling good spirits keep him hopeful enough. He has joined the first ship he could find, a trader sailing to distant Sargava. He hopes that the sea-god’s eye will not follow him there, or that different gods hold sway, and that he may make a new life on a new sea, whether as an honest merchantman or a bloodthirsty pirate, he cannot say.

Makris Barrow was a truly second-rate second mate, having secured his position on the Fortune’s Bride through bullying and brutality rather than any great skill as a sailor or leader. As in any large gathering of men, and particularly of pirates, there were some who were drawn to him as a result, and many who swore loyalty to him. Doran was not one of these. He felt that Barrow was a poor sailor and a reckless fighter. There was no doubt that Barrow was strong and brave, and his prowess with cutlass and boarding axe had won many a pitched battle on the decks. In Doran’s eyes, however, Barrow fought where no fight was needed, and made up for his errors as a sailor and navigator only through furious physical effort and the crushing of any who would point out his mistakes.

Being half the size of the human Barrow, Doran had to rely more on wits and skill to show his mettle among the crew of the Bride, and he rose to the task quite well. His intelligence and natural ability as a sailor endeared him to a smaller, more thoughtful part of the crew, and his quick thinking had secured them a prize or two that would surely have escaped otherwise. As one would expect, Barrow saw Doran as a competitor, someone out to overthrow him and take his hard-earned power and position on the ship, and swore to destroy him before that could happen. Doran, meanwhile, was so pleased to finally be free that he had no intent of seizing power from anyone. But his time as a Chelish slave had honed his instincts for who meant him harm, and he sensed right away that Barrow meant him ill.

Barrow began his campaign against Doran in not-so-subtle ways, sending his bully-boys to beat Doran senseless or worse. Doran generally managed to outsmart them, and not be where they expected to find him, or be there with allies of his own, sending Barrow’s thugs slinking away. After some months of this, however, Barrow became slightly more inventive in his approach, though one could hardly call it clever. The Bride had recently taken a small ship, carrying little in the way of cargo, but bearing a wealthy traveler from Almas, in Andoran. A small treasure in coins was taken from him, but the great prize was a gem-encrusted pendant, worthy of a king, which was eagerly claimed by Jak Verling, captain of the Fortune’s Bride. Though Barrow dearly desired the pendant for himself, he also saw in it a tool to rid himself of Doran Tidewrack.

Captain Verling’s cabin boy was a crony of Barrow’s, and Barrow forced him to steal the pendant from the captain’s lockbox and deliver it to him. Barrow then hid the gorgeous bauble in Doran’s kit-bag, and went to tell the captain he suspected a thief among the crew – common enough in a pirate ship, but sorely and violently frowned upon, particularly by Captain Verling. Like many sailors, however, Doran used a knot of his own devising to tie his bag closed, so he could tell if anyone else had opened it. While Barrow was speaking to the captain, Doran happened to notice his bag had been tampered with and he opened it to see what was missing. He soon found the pendant and, at the same instant, heard the heavy footfalls of a group of men moving along the deck towards the gangway leading down to the decrepit crew cabin. In desperation, he hurriedly tossed the pendant into the shadows across the cabin and stashed his gear, heading for the gangway with as innocent a look as he could muster.

Nevertheless, he was seized by a couple of Barrow’s thugs, and Barrow tore open Doran’s bag and dumped it on the ground before the captain, pawing through its contents with an exultant look on his face. His expression soon turned to confusion, then anger and some fear, as he muttered “Where is it? It was here!” The captain looked from Barrow to Doran and back again, his face dark with rage and said ”What’s this? What’s going on here? Throw both of these men in irons and we’ll get to the bottom of it!”

As the captain spoke, however, an urgent cry came from the masthead, “Squall from the starboard quarter! Reef sails! Oh, we’ll never be in time!” and a deep howling could be heard as the sky through the portholes darkened suddenly. The short, sharp storm that followed was more than the aged timbers of the Bride could stand – she was instantly blown over on her port side, masts and spars snapping under the strain, and she soon foundered. Few hands survived, but somehow Doran was one of them, leaving him to wonder whether the sea-gods loved him or hated him.

Doran found a small timber from the ship and held onto it for some hours, though it was barely adequate to keep him afloat. As the sun began to set, he saw a large section of the mainmast bobbing nearby, with something or someone clinging to it, and he felt real hope that he might survive the night. He managed to swim to it, and saw an arm lashed to the wood with a bit of rope, and a sodden head resting on it. His splashing drew the attention of the other man, who lifted his head to reveal he was none other than Makris Barrow, who cried out ”You! Filthy slip! You’re cursed, and you’ve brought an end to us all! I’ll kill you now for good and all!” and began to tug and strain at the rope holding his arm to the section of mast.

The fact that he was a quick swimmer, and that Barrow had lashed himself to the floating debris and could not quickly get free, saved Doran’s life. He got away from the immediate threat of Barrow, but felt sure he would not live to see the dawn. He managed to stay afloat through much of the night, however, and the currents washed him ashore on the Isle of Kortos shortly before dawn. As the sun rose, Doran was happy to be alive, but he felt fairly confident of two things: the curse of the sea-gods was real, and Barrow had likely survived as well, so Doran would forever have to watch his back.

ooc]Round #, Initiative ##[/ooc]
ooc]HP 34/34 | AC:17 F:15 T:13 | Saves F:+3 R:+16 W:+6, +4 vs. air and water effects, or being knocked prone, +2 vs. fear
[/ooc]

Regular
[dice=+1 Dagger attack]1d20+9[/dice]
[dice=+1 Dagger damage]1d3+2[/dice]

[dice=Dagger attack]1d20+8[/dice]
[dice=Dagger damage]1d3+1[/dice]

Sneak Attack
[dice=+1 Dagger attack]1d20+9[/dice]
[dice=+1 Dagger damage (sneak attack)]1d3+2d8+2[/dice]

[dice=Dagger attack]1d20+8[/dice]
[dice=Dagger damage (sneak attack)]1d3+2d8+1[/dice]

TWF
[dice=+1 Dagger attack (TWF)]1d20+7[/dice]
[dice=+1 Dagger damage (TWF)]1d3+2[/dice]

[dice=Dagger attack (TWF)]1d20+6[/dice]
[dice=Dagger damage (TWF)]1d3+1[/dice]

TWF, Sneak Attack
[dice=+1 Dagger attack]1d20+7[/dice]
[dice=+1 Dagger damage (sneak attack)]1d3+2d8+2[/dice]

[dice=Dagger attack (TWF)]1d20+6[/dice]
[dice=Dagger damage (sneak attack)]1d3+2d8+1[/dice]

Ranged & Misc
[dice=Sling attack]1d20+8[/dice]
[dice=Sling damage]1d3[/dice]

[dice=Shortbow attack]1d20+8[/dice]
[dice=Sling damage]1d4[/dice]

[dice=Perception]1d20+12[/dice]
[dice=Profession (sailor)]1d20+9[/dice]

Chanties: 1, 2, 3, 4