I'm not gonna make it. Just no time before deadline.
Search Posts
Here is my build.
Tossing my bow into the ring...
1. Why would character consider leaving Sandpoint to travel to the other side of the world?
2. Are you already participating in a JR PbP game?
Here is my application: 1. Why are you in Sandpoint? Are you visiting or a local?
2. Which NPC are you connected to?
3. How would you describe your personality?
4. What will your character contribute to the group?
5. What are your plans for your character mechanically? I don't need to know a level-by-level progression, but where are you taking him/her?
6. What is your day job?
Finrod
APPEARANCE
Spoiler:
hideous scarring left by someone who really enjoyed his work Odd, since you've never heard of an elf with scars. PERSONALITY Spoiler:
<>An elf of few words, to the point of using hand signs instead of speaking, Finrod's voice is a roughened croak. Initially, he stares at you with an unnerving green eyed intensity. He listens far more than he speaks. He warms to people slowly, if at all, though (having more than a little survivors guilt) he is patient with those who ask for his help with survival and the natural world . <>He is handy with making bows, arrows and repair, and will warm to and talk shop with another craftsman.
<>When still he tends to fade into the background, until he moves with a surprising grace and blinding quickness. He likes to scout ahead and snipe from ambush, never giving an enemy an even break. You have never seen him sleep, seemingly on watchful throughout the night. <>He dislikes towns and crowds of people, disliking the potential rejection of people who see his disfigurment. BACKGROUND Spoiler:
<>During a deep forest scouting mission, the entire unit was caught in a cunning ambush by the demon lord Treerazor. He indulged himself in torturing them physically and mentally, until he was interrupted by Rangers including Shalelu, who shot many demons with superb archery. They drove off the goblins and rescued the only survivor, Finrod. <>While recovering from his ordeal, it was discovered that the disfiguring injuries were impossible to heal properly due to some Vile influence. Desiring to get away from the pitying looks of his fellow
<>Despite his dislike of towns, he will dare to enter one if it means he can pick up the trail of the cunning demonic minions of Treerazor...
Campaign Trait:
I for one want to continue whenever you can pick this up again.
Seeing the enemy revealed, Finrod's eyes take on a feverish gleam as he draws and aims at the monster's core. [Rapid shot] Shot 1 Attack roll: for damage.
Frustrated at not seeing a target, Finrod tries to peer through the murk to that area. Perception:Drawing a sunrod arrow from his quiver, Finrod strikes it alight with a sweeping movement against the ground, then draws it to his cheek and fires it right at that darkened area; its flight arcing up and wobbling like a blazing comet.
Initiative:
Finrod is clearly eager to travel quickly, but he restrains himself and helps the rest of the company climb down. Climb check 1:
He also tries to check the rungs ahead of the company, to make sure none of them are loose. Perception 1:
Not even looking at Fluffy several yards away Finrod says; "That will not be necessary Mr. Thistledown."
Finrod steps forward eagerly. His eyes seem to have taken on a feverish gleam.
"Stop the withered branch from spreading?" Findrod rasps, his eyes sharply focused on the Ratatosk. "You need to tell us more than that if we are to help. What is the Withered Branch?"
Still trying to decide which way to go next. Up the rungs? Along the trunk? There is supposed to be a way to the Beastlands from here...
Finrod helps by staying out of it.
Finrod wonders, are we to climb up, or down?
Despite the alien scale to it, the World Ash has a comforting arboreal feel to it for Finrod. He is the most relaxed he had ever been since he left his home forest long ago. He has to make a deliberate effort to remind himself that where there are giant squirrels, there are giant squirrel predators... Giving the giant squirrel a respectful distance he eyes the rungs of the ladder affixed to the trunk...
Finrod backs away slowly, touching one of his arrows, but not drawing it yet.
Finrod puts his hand on Huegars shoulder and leans in close.
Huergar:
"You have nothing to fear; as long as you carry something men would never leave behind. Like liquor."
"Besides," Finrod rasped, clapping Huergar on the back, "The prophesy said we could only quest for the bow Thaas as a group." "Now, which way to the Beastlands?" KNOWLEDGE (Geography): KNOWLEDGE (Nature): PERCEPTION: SURVIVAL (Track):
Finrod chokes on his wine at Kara's transformation. He knew some of her story, but not that.
Finrod sits at the table with the rest of the company, his back to a wall and facing the entrances. Leaning his bow against the wall he will order an elven wine and then reluctantly pull down his scarf to drink it. He looks at and listens to the others intently. Perception:
Stepping through the door, Finrod immediately steps to the side and scans the interior.
Finrod carefully observes the newcomers; then, reassured, eases the half drawn arrow back into its quiver.
Yes of course.
"What are the Sons of Mercy? And should we run away now?"
Finrod takes another 5' step back. "You called this tune; now it's time to pay the piper." Targeting the one who hit Onyx.
Shot 1:
Shot 2:
Shot 3:
The blood spraying from Onyx decides Finrod.
Targeting the one who hit Onyx.
Shot 1:
Shot 2:
Shot 3:
Will save:
Finrod fixes the celestials with the cold eye of an executioner.
Finrod will step back, target Huegar's opponent, and fire three signal arrows for blunt nonlethal damage and a loud owl screech. Full round attack, rapid fire, point blank, deadly aim, nonlethal. Shot 1:
Shot 2:
Shot 3:
"Now imagine what I could do if I shot to kill."
Finrod slowly pulls a signal arrow out of his quiver and holds it loosely in his hand...
Finrod's eyes narrow.
Sense Motive:
Finrod's eyes narrow in suspicion.
Finrod pauses a moment before he rasps out; "Where is this Hive Ward then?"
Finrod looks up, his eyes afire.
Finrod looks around for possible threats. Perception:
DM: Finrod's memorized spells: Ranger Level 1-- Gets 2+1 DC 12
Ranger Level 2-- Gets 1+0 DC13
Finrod stands up from the cot. His legs shake a little, as if he had not stood in a long time. He straightens up slowly.
"Wait, wait, wait. I don't understand what you're talking about." Finrod rasps, shaking his head.
"It ... reached out to me somehow, reached a tendril out to my wound, pushed in and started feeding somehow. It was killing me, and it taunted me as it drank from my soul.
Finrod looks up at you. "Then the tree somehow melted and became a Yolchol, a handmaiden of Lolth! It said; 'Lolth is watching with great interest, Finrod. Perhaps, just perhaps, you will serve as her meat, rather than her slave. Try as you might, neither the Black Archer nor the betrayer of the drow can save you now. You are mine!'" "Then as she was killing me, I heard Him. I heard Shevarash speak! He said; 'Aim True, and your arrow will strike so. I cannot bring you back. You must come back on your own, and show your strength... Only then can I save you.' And then an arrow struck the Yolchol in the head, dissolving it and leaving the broken arrow over a drop that was the Yolchol. I turned and I saw Him. He had the appearance of a raven-haired elf-lord with a black hooded cloak, wearing a dark blue-black armor. He nodded, turned, and walked away, still carrying the ashen longbow that fired the arrow." "The last thing I heard Him speak before I awoke here was 'Do not let them win.'" Finrod turns his burning eyes on his companions.
Finrod sat up suddenly, looking around wildly. Seeing nothing more than his companions, he sat back with some relief. Tears streamed down his face.
Huergar: OOC, yes most of that line is from Lovecraft...;)
Finrod breathes a little easier here, he mutters...
Elven language: ...Shevarash guide my hand, Shevarash guide my hand...
The muttering turns into an alien, high pitched female voice;
Elven language skill:
"...perhaps, you will serve as her meat, rather than her slave..." Finrod starts to choke.
Finrod twitches and groans in unconciousness. You can hear him muttering...
DM: "Not in the face!"
GM: I will stand pat.
DM: Fort save 1: Fort save 2: Fort save 3: Will save: (+2 to that if an Enchantment)
|