About Draken Caladran LorrimarJust make all of the gear white Statistics:
Male Dhamphir Inquisitor(kinslayer) 2
N Medium Humanoid (Dhamphir) Alternate racials- Dayborn Init +4; Senses Perception +12 ------------------------------ DEFENSE ------------------------------ AC 22, touch 15, flat-footed 17 (+6 armor, +4 dex, +1 shield+1 dodge) hp (2d8+4) Fort +4 (3base+1fort) Ref +4 (0base+4 dex) Will +6 (3base+3wis) ------------------------------ OFFENSE ------------------------------ Speed 30 ft. Melee
Ranged
or Repeating heavy crossbow: +5 [dice=attack] 1d20+5 [/dice]
background skills:
*ACP applies to these skills
Languages Common, Halfling, Celestial, Spells
1st level: 3/day
[spoiler=Gear/Possessions]
Magical Gear: Gear: MWK backpack, belt pouch, waterskin (1), caltrops (3), 100ft silk rope, grappling hook, hammer, torch (5),
Money 253 GP 85 SP 0 CP
Background:
Dhamphir Inquisitor of Iomeade, Undead hunter and hater. (despises most undead) However, has self conflicting Emotions due to himself being partly undead. He has always sought to be a welcomed member of society, but even though he has slain necromancers, undead warriors, and overall done good, he is still shunned by many peoples. He has began to question if it is worth the trouble to keep going, to keep trying to show people that not everyone cursed with the "boons" of the undead are evil. The only thing that keeps him going at this moment is his faith in his deity, and her edicts. without that, he may well fall into darkness that he has so long fought against. Perhaps soon, he shall reap the rewards of his labours, or perhaps, soon, he shall finally surrender to the darkness gnawing at his soul... He doesn't like sitting and waiting anymore, infact, he prefers not to simply because it gives him time to think, think about things he doesn't want to think about. such as- If undead or part undead can ever be truly good
These, and many others are why he is always moving, always on the next hunt, no rest and no respite, for him, or those he hunts. When forced to remain in one place, he is ever experimenting with his newfound tools of "justice", black powder, but lately, even this dangerous task has started to fail to keep those thoughts at bay.. Background (transferred over form a CC game. Surprisingly works well with the concept) Draken was born in a smallish town in a rural area. When he was born he looked human enough to pass and was accepted for over two years. Unfortunately, one day he was discovered drinking the blood of a slaughtered hog, and upon inspection of the local clergy, branded a Dhamphir. His mother was driven out of the town after refusing to abandon the “monster” child to death. In the wilds, not terribly far from town, his mother raised Draken as best she could. She managed to build a small, very small, cabin after months of work, learned to hunt, and managed to start a small farm behind her house. Draken grew up never knowing what he was, he never had other children to play with only his mother and he loved her dearly. Eventually he grew old enough to help around the house, and they lived poorly, but happily, for several years. Sadly, on his 14th birthday, he ventured too far out hunting and was seen by the member of the town. When he attempted to approach the woman screamed out, running back towards town, fascinated by a girl who appeared to be his own age, he followed her. Once he got to the town he was overwhelmed with the amount of people. He saw the girl again, she was speaking to a group of men in leather and chain, when she pointed back and turned she screamed again. Draken merely waved, smiling. Not understanding. However, after the men started shouting and firing arrows at him, he began to question. Why do they try to harm me? Have I done something wrong? when an arrow hit his arm, he questioned no longer; he turned and ran as hard as he could. He quickly outpaced the town guard, but unknowingly left a trail of blood straight to his home… Once home, he spoke to his mother about everything and her face darkened as she slumped her head, and shoulders. She spoke not a word as she tended his wound, but when she finished sat back and covered her face with her hands. She spoke then, she told the boy everything. She told him of his heritage, of his birth, the town running them off, thinking them both dead. The boy didn’t understand. He had never harmed anyone; he had never even drunk blood once he learned it was wrong. But they didn’t care, He couldn’t comprehend how people could so harshly and quickly judge someone because of their lineage, how even though he was one of the most honest children they would know, they condemned him to death merely because of his blood. It wasn’t more than a day that a mob found them. His mother begged and pleaded, she told them how innocent, how kind and loving the child was. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. For still protecting them, they labeled her a witch, and a vampire lover, even her once husband, shouted in fear. They rushed the house and tied her and Draken up, then dragged them outside. Outside stood a wooden alter to Desna, and firewood was being placed on it, but instead of the boy, who they gave to the local clergyman, they tied his mother up to it. They said, that she would be burned, and that in the fire her soul would be purged. Ravens and crows had gathered among the trees, awaiting the feast surely to come. As the men held Draken’s face, forcing him to watch, they lit a torch and moved to light the alter. Just then, a voice boomed out of the mobs noise.
Appearance and Personality:
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