About Ernhild JaggvirErnhild Jaggvir
Special Abilities:
Harrow Points (1/5): Dexterity Rerolls: A PC can spend a Harrow Point to
Cleric:
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Spd: 20 feet
Ranged:
Starting Money: 200 PO Combat gear:
Other possessions:
Spare Money:
Other valuable:
Encumbrance:
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Str 14
Base Attack: +3; CMB: +5, CMD: 15 (/19 if bull rush or trip attempt while standing on the ground.) Feats:
Traits:
Skills: (Base 2, +1 (FC))
Background Skills:
Lvl 2: Knowledge (history) +4
Lvl 3: Profession (barrister) +8
Lvl 4: Knowledge (nobility) +6
Lvl 5: Knowledge (nobility) +7
Languages (2): Common, Dwarven -------------
Defense: (Protection, Subdomain)
Level 0 (4) :(DC 14)
Level 1 : 0/5 (3+1 Wis bonus+ 1 Domain Spell) (DC 15)
Level 2: 0/4 (2+ 1 Wis+ 1 Domain Spell) (DC 16)
Level 3: 0/3 (1 + 1 Wis; +1 Domain Spell; DC 17)
Domain Spells: Protection from Energy, Magic Circle Against Chaos Background:
For many years, and though she is ashamed to admit it, Ernhild was a shiver eater. It all came down to the same story as everybody else. She had left her home of Janderhoff at an early age, and struggled to find her bearings in the sprawling city of Korvosa. She was poor, she was desperate. She had taken to alcohol as a way of coping with life. That was before she took her first dose of shiver, offered by a fellow bouncer at the seedy Pewter Mug. At that time, it had felt like relief. It had turned into a hell. Years of taking the s@!+ dulled her senses to the point where most of the savings went into buying doses that couldn't even provide more than a temporary memory of bliss. Dealers kept rising the price, arguing that they couldn't keep up with the demand anymore, pretexting that the local crimelords held the strings of supply tight. She could tell, even in her confused state, that it was a whole lot of b#!#*$+! for the dealers to line their pockets. She didn't care. Ironically, her lucky day was when she OD'd. On one fateful night, Ernhild was found convulsing on the pavement by a night patrol, and rushed into the nearest temple to receive some urgent care. It took all the skills of the clerics to save her life. She had just found Abadar -or the other way around. Miraculously, she survived. After a few weeks of constant screaming and pleading for a dose, she finally recovered enough to stand before the judges without external help. She pleaded guilty and was condemned to three years of jail time. It should have been the end of her brief tryst with the law. But three years was a long time to think of a way to turn her life around once her sentence would be over, and without the drugs to cloud her mind, Ernhild could finally think. A lot. On the day she was released, she grabbed her meagre possessions, walked out of prison, and headed straight to the temple of Abadar, where she asked to join the faith. Even in Korvosa, it was an unusual sight. The path to acceptance was tough. She knew next to nothing about the training of a cleric, and she was not exactly in her prime anymore. And, of course, they mistrusted her around the drugs: they were no fools and knew that it was perilous to let an addict near the laudanum. They were welcoming enough, but always wary of a relapse, and throughout her training they watched Ernhild like a hawk. But that was a price she expected to pay. She held steady, and did what was asked of her with her chin high, in an effort to prove to them and to herself that she had learned from her hardships. It paid off, in the end. She held on long enough that kicking her out became out of question, and after nearly a decade of hard work, she officially joined the ranks of the clerics of Abadar. Her time is split between clerk work and tending to the sick in the infirmary. To most of her colleagues, it seems like Ernhild's past is finally behind her. They are wrong. Dwarves live long, and they can hold a grudge. With every day bringing new addicts to tend to, how could she Ernhild forget? How could she ignore that, with each passing day, their numbers seemed to go up? And that, more often than not, they would plead, bargain, and cry for a dose of shiver? Even after all those years, shiver is still a lucrative market in the poorest districts of Korvosa. It’s been more than ten years since she last bought a dose, and yet, the names of Korvosa's dealers haven't changed. Especially one. Gaedran Lamm -the only crimelord who seemed to have survived this long. He had long deserved his comeuppance. Appearance and Personality:
Though not yet middle-aged, Ernhild already sports a wrinkled face and greying hair from years of hard work, substance abuse and near-constant worry. She holds a few low-ranks duties at the temple of Abadar where her meticulousness and diligence are appreciated- mostly tending to the sick and wounded in the infirmary and partaking in administrative work. Though she tends to prefer the latter, her hands are calloused, and shake ever so slightly when she writes; she is no longer able to read documents written in fine print without the eyeglasses sitting on her desk. Sturdy and no-nonsense, Ernhild doesn't let herself be easily swayed by the emotions of others and cultivates a calm but firm demeanor that has worked in her favour more than once by destabilizing those who would attempt to throw her off. In her private life, however, Ernhild is much more resentful, and often struggles to let go of past wrongs, dwelling on old pains instead. Perhaps that's why she hasn't allowed herself to have much of a private life outside her work for so long. |
