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About FaffnyrData:
Name: Faffnyr walks in the Sun Race: Half-Orc Job: Paladin 1 Age: 19 Alignment: LG Personality: Determined, polite, merciful Likes: Freedom, Saranrae, Haleen Dislikes: Slavery, the whip Favorite foods: mint tea sweetened with honey, spicy lamb with rice, honeycrusted sweets. Hobbies: Reading holy texts, gospels Physical Description: Black hair, green eyes, scarred face. Bulky and muscular for a female Deity: Saranrae Languages: Common, Orcish, Attached Objects: Holy symbol, given to her from her mentor and "mother" Janbiya, given to her from her last ex-master A crudely made, but still beautiful tattoo of the dawnflower, wich she thinks is her lucky charm tattood over her heart. Stat point distribution:
20 point buy for stats STR: 14 / 14 = 5 DEX: 10 / 10 = 0 CON: 14 / 14 = 5 INT: 10 / 10 = 0 WIS: 14 / 16 = 5 (+2 Half-orc Racial) CHA: 14 / 14 = 5 Stats:
Hit Points: 27 / 27 Init: +0 Shamshir (Scimitar) +6, 1d6+2, 18-20 X2, S, Janbiya (Dagger) +5, 1d4+2 , 19-20x2, S Sling +3 1d4+2 , 20x2, B Attack: Melee: 5 = 3(base) + 2(STR); Range: 3 = 3(base) + 0(DEX); CMB: 5 = 3(base) + 2(STR); CMD: 15 = 10 + 3(base) + 2(STR) + 0(DEX); AC:
Feats, Traits,Skills:
Feats: Selective Channeling Weapon Focus Scimitar Traits: Fate´s Favored (Luck Boni increased by one) Earning your Freedom (+1 Trait bonus on Will) Cleric 2 +INT= 2 * 3 = 6
Class Features, Racial Traits:
Class Features: Weapon and Armor Proficiency: Clerics are proficient with all simple weapons, light armor, medium armor, and shields (except tower shields). Clerics are also proficient with the favored weapon of their deity. Aura of Good (Ex):
Orisons:
Spells:
Channel Energy(SU):
Domains
Glory (Heroism)
Touch of Glory (Sp): You can cause your hand to shimmer with divine radiance, allowing you to touch a creature as a standard action and give it a bonus equal to your cleric level on a single Charisma-based skill check or Charisma ability check. This ability lasts for 1 hour or until the creature touched elects to apply the bonus to a roll. You can use this ability to grant the bonus a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Wisdom modifier. Aura of Heroism (Su):
Domain Spells:
Healing (Restoration)
Restorative Touch (Su):
Healer's Blessing (Su):
Domain Spells: 1st—cure light wounds, 2nd—remove disease, 3rd—cure serious wounds, 4th—neutralize poison, 5th—break enchantment 6th—heal, 7th—regenerate, 8th—mass cure critical wounds, 9th—mass heal.
Spells:
Orisons: Guidance, create water, Detect magic, stabilize Level 1: (D)shield of faith, bless,divine favor Equipment:
100gp Weapons: (18gp) Shamshir Scimitar (15gp) Janbiya Dagger (2gp) Sling & 10 Sling Bullets (1gp) --Weight: 6 Armour: (48gp) Klivanium (Four Mirror Armor) (45gp) Light wodden shield (3gp) --Weight: 0 Misc: Adventure Gear: (16gp 0s 2cp) Kit cleric (16gp) 2 Scrolls of CLW 50gp 1 Scroll of Bless 25gp 1 Scroll of Comprehend L. 25gp Flask of Holy water 50gp --Weight: 18 Hot weather Outfit *1 (free) --Weight: Cash: 0 Platinum 36 Gold 7 Silver 3 Copper Appearance:
Height: 6' 3" Weight: 185 lbs Hair: Jet Black Eyes: Emerald Green Skin: a mud brown Physical Description A bulky she half-orc with scarred face looks up from reading a book. Her face, although young shows the rigors of a hard life. Usually a face like that would be repulsive, but the look of serenity and acceptance in her eyes just makes it memorable. One can see that the tip of her left littlefinger has been cut and it has healed badly, leaving the fingernail as a huge blob of horn. A crudely made holy symbol of Saranrae hangs around her neck. She is wearing sand colored robes over a battered old armor to protect from the merciless heat of Katapesh and hiding her mascular frame. With surprising grace for such a big woman he stands up, bows and with a dark, throaty voice introduces herself. ”Effendi, Faffnyr walks in the sun, at your service!” Backstory:
Katapesh, juwel of the desert, with lush gardens hanging with bountiful trees full of exotic fruits. Dark haired, onyx eyed beautiful woman are carried around in exquisit litters with silken pillows. Home of markets of thousand and one wonders in colors, smells and sounds. Life is so very, very good. If you are rich and powerful. For slaves it is hell. Most are born on slave farms or huge estates and are destined to life their lifes in chains forever. One of those slaves was Faffnyr. Born from a healthy woman and a strong orc to gain another generation of strong workers she never knew his father or mother. Named Faffnyr she was raised with other children in a communal area and learned as a young girl to survive. Many of her comrades were broken and accepted whip and chain as their nature. Others rebelled and were caught and whipped to death, as deterrence to the others. A few become monsters and did everything to survive, be it thievery, prostitution or even murder. Faffnyr did do some of those evil things and grew strong, healthy and brutal. With her charms and strong arms she became the leader of her pack and took care to get the choicest parts of the meals and the water and even some weed, if she was lucky. And if she wasn´t …. the whip, the rod and the sunbox. She was given to a few masters sold and resold, till after a brutal training she was sold to the family of Abu-Alsaari as a slave guard. Five years later. At the house at the end of the sweeping wind lane mirrored the decline of the family of Abu-Alsaari. Once brightly painted, with gleaming brass and highly polished wood, surrounded by a well tended garden, its paint now was lusterless from the desert-wind, the brass dull and the wood cracked from lack of oiling. The garden showed many signs of neglect and lack and water, many a brown spotch where once a green grass was growing. A lone she half-orc was standing in front of the gate, her armor old and battered, but still service-able and a drab scimitar on her hip and an old cudgel hanging on her belt. The crest on his shield needed repainting, but always the answer was, not now, but soon, I have a new opportunity that will change everything. Lost in thoughts to fight the endless boredom that was the quintessence of guard duty she was lost in thoughts. Suddenly she snapped to attention as her master turned in the street. Today something happened. He is energetic, he has made a deal, he thinks will change a lot. Opening the door and expecting her master to ran past her as usual he bowed deeply. But her master stopped in front of her. He even… spoke with her? Faffnyr was so surprised that she missed the words her master spoke. ”You have been with me for 5 years now. Did you like it here? Was I a good master?””Of course, master. Of course!” What does he want? What am I supposed to say? Her master looked at his slave, then at the house and the uncultured garden, all the while stroking his thin excuse for a beard. Twice it seemed as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just turned toward the house. ”Good, good!” The energetic spring of his steps had vanished and he again walked as if the weight of the world would lay on his shoulders. Faffnyr looked after him and started to feel for his holy symbol around her neck. Her fingers knew every bump, every grove and as was her manner she followed them while thinking.What now? Have faith, have faith. Saranrae´s light will shine.At sunset Faffnyr locked the great wrought-iron door with a heavy chain and a lock and returned to the house, ready to take her evening gruel. Either the master was generous today or there was some leftovers, her bowl of rice and stringy mutton with old raisins had seven drops of honey on it. A rare delicacy. The old Halfling woman Aihee, the cook and soul of the slaves gave her a sad, but beautiful smile. Her hunger demanded that she finished her bowl first, she hadn´t eaten anything all day, but as soon as her bowl was empty she pushed it away and looked at her. ”What is it, mother?” Aihee sat down next to her and took her big strong hand in her tiny one and spoke. ”First, let us pray to our lady!” After a long prayer the priestess of the dawnflower stroked Faffnyrs hard, scarred face. ”Rejoice my daughter, for you are given a rare opportunity. Our master has sold you to the pactmasters of Katapesh. You will leave tomorrow morning and make your way to Garavel the grand. He will lead a company of slave soldiers toward a city to reclaim it from the gnolls. I know this will be dangerous, but the master has gotten a lot of money for you and it means he can not only satisfy his worst debt-collectors, but he might even invest it and bring some modest wealth to this family. I am so proud of you!” That night Faffnyr couldn´t sleep in his tiny bunk. It was not the snoring of Massud and Alhann. Nor the coupling noises of Hassan and Abdul. Nor the crying of little Aishe and the soothing voice of Aihee, telling the little girl that everything was right, healing the wounds and cuts. No, Faffnyr couldn´t sleep because she was about to leave this place. Not her home. A slave has no home, just a place where she is allowed to sleep, eat and work. But it had been a good place. The beatings were rare, they duties not backbreaking and having a real priest of Saranrae to guide the flock was a luxery beyond imagination. Aihees kind words and conviction had saved her, Faffnyr knew this. It had breathed the light of her goddess in her heart and made her a true believer of the Dawnflower, with the conviction and faith of a true Paladin. But she was to leave her fellows and find a new destiny. Finally, just before dawn sleep came. Late it came, if just for 2 hours. Faffnyr unrobed and cleaned her gear for a last time before handing it all over to Aihee. Naked apart from Loinclothes and a simple roughspun shirt and a crude holy symbol around her neck she kneeled before the house, face touching the dirt. After waiting for what seemed an hour the master arrived and allowed her to stand up and follow him. Walking behind him with the eyes focused on the ground, Faffnyr still sneaked looks to the magnificent city out the corner of her eyes. Finally they arrived in a pompous house and the master led her inside. After conferring with his contacts the master escorted her to a courtyard and addressed her a final time. ”You have been a good slave, a loyal one. You will make your future! May Saranrae smile on you!” Turning round he took a step forward just to return and putting a Janbiya with his family name written on the hilt in Faffnyrs hand. ”So that you remember my house!” This time leaving in earnest her now former master left the building. A battle scarred man with hard face and bright eyes looked up to the almost naked she half-orc in front of him. Although a slave, she held a Janbiya in his left hand. Taking the weapon from her hand he threw it onto a pile of weapons and armor in the corner. No reaction. Excellent! This slave had been well-trained, as promised. Spitting out at the thought of the sleazy bastard Abu-Alsaari he roughly ripped the shirt from her. A history of slavery was etched in the body. Scars of whipping and beating but also some crudely made tattoos covered the body. Lifting her arms with his commanders rod Garavel inspected armpits for signs of illness, letting her stand on one leg to test her balance and rammed his road into her abonden to see if she would accept the pain without crying out. All the while preparing for a possible attack. Some did and learned why their new captain had survived for such a long time. Most slaves just stared at him with hateful eyes, hiding behind fake obedience. But he knew that look. Just too well. Hadn´t he himself tried to hide it from his own masters. But funnily not this half-orc woman. She seemed to be…. tranquil. Not drugged, but it seemed she had accepted her fate. Maybe he could get a reaction if he would take the holy symbol. Garavel tried to touch it, just to feel her hand envelop his. By Gorum.. she was strong. He was about to hit her in the face, but her grip was just strong but not painful.”Please, not this, master!” Usually Garavel would have taken it for sure, at least just to make a point. But this woman had just touched the perfect balance of deference and pleading in her voice, with the conviction of a true believer feeling that her faith was to be spoiled, that Garavel after pondering just nodded. She let go of his hand and held her own out. ”I have touched you without permission. I must be punished!” Garavel took a sharp breath and hit her with his rod. Not too hard. But a slave who touches his master had to be punished! Turning around Garavel spoke, as if to the air: ”You have my permission to dress yourself! In the corner are armors and weapons With swift, economical movements she first took a padded vest and then picked up a few weapons testing this sword, that mace before selecting a shamshir, a janbiya and a sling. From the pile of armors an old battered but still serviceable piece of klivanium and a fairly new shield with the symbol of Katapesh painted on it. |