About Haddek BalmontEmpiricist Investigator 1
Short Sword: +0, damage 1d6, 19-20/x2
Other Common Actions Inspiration: +1d6 4/day Formulae Book:
Race and Class Bonuses:
Half Elf +2 Int immune to sleep, +2 saves vs enchantment Bonus feat: skill focus +2 perception 2 favored classes (Investigator and Swashbuckler) Favored Class: +1/4 to Inspiration rolls Investigator (empiricist)
Traits and Feats:
Drawback Family Ties: If you can't or won't fulfill a request made by family, pass a DC 20 Will save (can try start of every day) or take -2 on all Wis and Cha based checks. Traits
Feats
Skills:
Class skill: * total ranks: 10 Adventuring Skills:
Background Skills:
ACP: 0
Equipment:
Carried/Worn Formula Book, traveling Studded Leather Armor Short Sword Short Bow 20 Arrows Dagger Thieves' tools alchemy crafting kit, backpack, belt pouch, flint and steel, ink, inkpen, soap, torches (2), waterskin, trail rations (1 day) 5 acid flasks scroll with seal (map of Caliphas sewers, letter, seal has the crest of the Siervage family) left in room
Currency: 20p 27g 8s
Background:
Haddek Balmont is not my real name. It’s a nice name though. Normal. Nondescript. Everything about me is normal and nondescript, by design. My name, my appearance even, is a creation to hide who I am and what I do. I’ve become known to some as Phantom, for my ability to get in and out of anywhere and then disappear like a ghost. That is as much me as is Haddek. What’s my story? Well, it goes something like this: I was born 25 years ago to a nameless young woman in a nameless little village along the Sphinx River in Osirion. She was the daughter of a minor noble family, and betrothed to some other little lordling when my father passed through town and charmed his way into her skirts. She knew soon that she had conceived, and tried to hurry along the wedding to pass me off as her husband's child. Well, he was sure surprised when he found out he'd supposedly fathered a pointy-eared baby. My mother was destroyed. She was thrown out by her new husband, disowned by her parents, and run out of town by the rabble who couldn't bear the thought that their local nobility's honor would be smeared so badly. So, she ran. Now, as you can imagine, a young noblewoman who had never had to work a day in her life didn't have what you'd call "marketable skills". She did have one thing going for her though. She was beautiful. She held out a long as she could, but eventually she was starving, and could no longer feed me - yeah, little newborn me was there too - so she went to work in a brothel. That's where I grew up. I had a more, shall we say, earthy education than most. You learn about the messier facts of life pretty young growing up in a whorehouse. You also get in a lot of fights, but I was never all that big so I learned to fight with my wits. I eventually crossed the wrong man (a pretty entertaining episode involving a constable's wife and a second-story jump into the back of a passing grain cart, but that's a story for another time), so I had to leave town in a bit of a hurry. As I moved from town to town, I eventually made my way to Sothis and, out of necessity, fell in with a group of thieves. After a few heists, which I won’t bore you with, I was caught and sentenced to be executed. During my escape – it was easy for someone of my abilities – I was seen by a watch captain with more brains than is standard for the job, and instead of attempting to catch me he offered a proposition. He told me of a group of mercenaries called The Iron Conclave who could use someone of my talents, and introduced me to the outfit. I signed on for a five year stint, in return for which he got what he called a “finder’s fee”, and I got to keep my head attached to my shoulders. I’m not proud of the things I did for them. Let's just say I went through a lot of lockpicks and slit a lot of throats and leave it at that. The second my 5 year term was up I left them. I had made enough money to get by for awhile, so I went back to my mother and bought a quiet place for her on the outskirts of town where she could set herself up in a more respectable business. After awhile I got back in touch with my old contacts from the world of hired blades. I had learned quickly that there's money to be made in that business, especially with my set of skills; getting into and out of impossible places costs more than just another sword hand. If I'm an independent contractor I don't have to take the more distasteful jobs - I'm not above slitting a throat or two, but it's not my first choice if I have other options.
Appearance:
Haddek looks normal in every way. Average height, average weight. His brown hair, which is beginning to grey prematurely, is just long enough to cover his slightly pointed ears. He has brown eyes and no visible scars or birthmarks or other identifying marks. He is best described as mildly handsome but forgettable. He usually wears his studded leather all the time, though it may be covered by loose desert clothes, or an overcoat of some kind in colder weather. When not trying to blend in with a different culture, he often wears a keffiyeh, headgear usually worn by the Osirion desert people that consists of a large cloth wrapped around the head and across the face. Personality:
To most, it seems that Haddek's only consistent personality trait is his constantly moving eyes. He seems to always be on watch for something. Everything else seems to change depending on the company he's in. He's usually quite affable and fun, but a sharp eye will see that it doesn't seem to be quite genuine. As a former assassin and spy he's become a master at blending into his environment, showing you what he thinks you expect to see. The more perceptive might notice that he never turns his back to a door and always knows where the exits are. With good friends, however, he's able to show a little more of his true self, and he turns out to be quite a relaxed guy. Never the center of the party, but quick with a quip to lighten the mood.
Contacts:
Liem Twain, Middle aged Human, Owns a network of three ketch ships. Tends to live a single care free lifestyle where he works hard on his reputation of being a womanizer. That lifestyle along with a heavy drinking habit has lead Mr. Twain into a life of smuggling and fencing black-market goods. His cover as a merchant cargo vessel has provided him with a well maintained backdrop to roam freely up and down the Sellen River. Contact: Fence (MR 2), Trust (1) Wary.
Kagen Blackhall , Young Adult Human, Works on and off along the docks of Caliphas. Is currently wanted by the law and is featured in multiple wanted posters, which offer 50 gold for any information leading to his arrest. Belongs to an organization known as the Emerald Flame, who seems to specialize in the slave market. Although Mr. Blackhall distinctly wears the guilds signet ring, he doesn’t seem to care for them very much. That being said, he seems like the ultimate opportunist, taking advantage of just about any situation. Contact: Professional Criminal (MR 3), Trust (1) Wary.
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