About Harlod McSavrockFluff:
Harlod sat, numbly staring into the small fire. The chill nipped and bit at the silent oracle, but he made no move to ward it away. Missing from his face, the charismatic grin that normally graced the smooth blue face was gone. A log in the fire fell, and the oracle whipped around, the bright glimmer of steel appearing in a hand that had sat empty a moment before. Frozen, Harlod watched for any movement in what appeared to be a place of eternal stillness. Minutes went by, timed only by the thudding of his heart. Relaxing somewhat, Harlod turned back to the fire, to his eternal stare into the fire, reliving the misfortune that had marked his day so clearly over and over. The female warrior was screaming in pain as her blood spurted from the savage wounds ripped through her armor and across her torso. "Help me get this armor off," yelled Harlod, voice competing with the moans and shrieks of the wounded. Gesturing at a nurse to hold his patient down, he deftly took his dagger and cut the bonds of the armor, gingerly peeling the layers of failed protection off his patient. The patient struggled against the nurse, blind with agony, causing more blood to spatter the soaked fabric of the healing tent. Speaking an unheard word, Harlod placed his blackened, burnt hand over the patients eyes and willed her into sleep. "Hurry and get her restrained," he barked at the nurse, "she won't sleep for long." The battle between the Sun Legions and the demon incursion forces had been fierce, each side absolutely refusing to give any meaningful ground. Burning through healing resources, the Sun Legions fought through the day, meeting each attack with the fervor of Sarenae battling the rough beast. Despite the most valiant of the third and seventh's commanders, the fourth Sun Legion was slowly enveloped and cutoff from any hope of support. The last order from the first was to hold out as a rescue attempt was mounted to break through devil lines and reach the trapped fourth...that was two hours ago. Already exhausted from battling the horde for most of the morning, the fourth was woefully unprepared for a protracted siege of their advanced position. Feather tokens had provided the instant defenses the Legion had needed to sustain in the midst of the devil onslaught, but without soldiers to man those walls...a renewed scream of pain brought Harlod back to his bleeding patient, awake but now restrained from hurting herself further. "Bite down on this," Harlod yelled, thrusting a wooden stick into her mouth, "this is going to hurt!" With a flash of bloodied steel, Harlod began removing the barbs embedded deep within the warrior's wounds. After a moment or two of screaming, the patient went limp, unconscious from the pain. Harlod shook his head as he removed barb after barb, normally wounds such as this were a simplicity to treat. Most would close right up with a little divine power and a touch of faith, right up until the devils started 'barbing' their weapons. A nasty trick meant to slow or stop the healing of the Sun Legion's troops, the devils started coating their weapons in barbed metal fragments the length of a finger. When embedded into the victim's flesh, the barbs perverted the holy healing energies causing small cuts to become suddenly lethal. Without checking and removing these barbs, healers couldn't cast any sort of cure magic without risking the death of their patient. Pulling the last barb from her flesh, Harlod swept up and down the warrior's body, hands check for any missed barbs. With a soft sigh of relief, Harlod channeled the holy power of Pharasma and closed the wounds of this patient. Smiling softly, Harlod turned to the nurse and dropped his tools to the floor. Towering over the body of the nurse stood a green monstrosity holding a twisted glaive dripping with fresh ichor. Grinning and stepping over the nurse, the Barbazu laughed, "so the poor Legion healer finally notices his doom is upon him." "I'm just a healer, I haven't hurt anyone." Harlod tried to back away from the devil, empty hands held outstretched. "Foolish angelspawn! Do you think it matters to me whether you're a healer or a fighter? Healthy or sick?" The devil hoisted his glaive and its attention shifted to the unconscious warrior. "A pity, that one was one of the better fighters. I almost feel as if..." the devil jumped back as a gout of fire sprayed over the warrior's body. "Don't you dare! Do not touch my patient!" Cried Harlod, hands quaking from the fire that had just spilled forth. Silent for a moment, the devil began laughing. "Poor angel spawn, you can do nothing to stop me!" Stepping forward, he brought the glaive down upon the warrior with a sickening crunch. "It's been some time since I've tasted the blood of an angelspawn...too long." Harlod watched in horror as the devil moved closer to him and gripped him by the throat. He felt his feet lift off the ground as he struggled to draw air into his lungs. Staring into the devil's cold, yellow eyes he heard a soft pop as his vision darkened. A moment later a blade burst through the devil's chest and the hand loosened from around his throat. Collapsing to the ground, Harlod struggled to look up at his savior as darkness swam in his vision. A crimson, eight-pointed star emblazoned the dark blue chest piece of his savior. Slumping to the ground, Harlod heard his name being called, but could not summon the strength to answer. There was the soft rustle of metal links as someone entered his little cave. The same crimson star decorated the armor of his visitor, commander of the second legion, Tarvis Nekba, better known as "Kilowatt". "Harlod," Tarvis spoke gently, "take some time off, rest, recover. We need time to rebuild the 4th. We'll find you when the time is right." Tarvis stood. "Better be ready solider, the dawn is coming." Crunch:
Harlod McSavrock Oracle of Pharasma 3 NG Medium outsider (native) Init +5; Perception -1 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 21, touch 13, flat-footed 18 (+6 armor, +3 Dex, +2 Shield) HP 24 (3d8+6) Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +2 -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 20 ft. Ranged Light Crossbow +1 (1d8/x2/19-20) Melee Armor Spikes -1 (1d6-2/x2/20) -------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 8, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 20 Base Atk +2; CMB +1; CMD 14 Languages Common, Celestial -------------------- Feats -------------------- Peacemaker Extra Channel -------------------- Traits and Drawbacks -------------------- Touched By Divinity (Repose Domain) Reactionary -------------------- Skills -------------------- Diplomacy +13 Handle Animal +9 Knowledge (History) +5 Knowledge (Planes) +7 Knowledge (Religion) +5 Sense Motive +7 Spell Craft +7 -------------------- SQ -------------------- Dark Vision 60ft Celestial Resistance 5 vs Acid, Cold, Electricity Blackened: Your hands and forearms are shriveled and blackened, as if you had plunged your arms into a blazing fire, and your thin, papery skin is sensitive to the touch. You take a –4 penalty on weapon attack rolls, but you add burning hands to your list of spells known. At 5th level, add scorching ray and flaming sphere to your list of spells known. At 10th level, add wall of fire to your list of spells known and your penalty on weapon attack rolls is reduced to –2. At 15th level, add delayed blast fireball to your list of spells known.
Favored Class (Oracle): Add +1/2 to the oracle’s level for the purpose of determining the effects of one revelation (channel).
Gold: 40.9
1st
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