Reginar

Henrik Vlastimil Cordovan's page

5 posts. Alias of Chapel36.


About Henrik Vlastimil Cordovan

Henrik Vlastimil Cordovan

Crunch:

Henrik Vlastimil Cordovan
LG Medium Half-Elf Paladin (Mind Sword/Oath Against Corruption ) 1
Init +6; Senses Perception +0;

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Defense
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AC 16, Touch 12, Flat-Footed 14( +4 Armor, +2 Dex)
HP 12
Fort +4; Ref +0, Will +2, +2 racial against illusion spells and effects; +1 trait bonus on saving throws against any spells or spell-like abilities cast by evil creatures.
Defensive Abilities +1 trait bonus on saving throws against any spells or spell-like abilities cast by evil creatures.
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft. ( 20 ft. in armor)
Melee Estoc +3 (2d4+3/18-20x2); Cold Iron Gauntlet +3 (1d3+2/x2)
Ranged Sling +3 (1d4+2/x2)
Special Attacks Smite Evil 1/day (+3 Attack and AC, +1 Damage)
Paladin Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st; concentration +4)
At will— Detect Evil

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Statistics
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Str 15 , Dex 14, Con 14, Int 8, Wis 10, Cha 16
Base Atk +1; CMB +; CMD
Feats Point Blank Shot ;
Skills Knowledge (Dungeoneering) [1]+4; Perception [1]+4
Background Skills Knowledge (Nobility) [1]+3 ; Linguistics [1]+0
Languages Common, Dwarven, Elven
Traits Race : Scholar of Ruins Dungeoneering as class skill
Campaign: Driven by Guilt
SQ Alert for Betrayal (replaced Adaptability); Aura of Goodl; Code of Conduct; Elf Blood; Elven Immunities; Mismatched (replaced Keen Sense & Low-Light Vision); Multitalented
Favored Class +1 Skill Point
Combat Gear sling bullets (10)
Other Gear armored coat, estoc, cold iron gauntlet, sling and bullets (10), journal (pages torn out), paladin’s kit, explorer’s outfit, tabard torn so symbol is missing, 44 gp, 9 sp {{total weight 70 lbs

Memories:

"'The zeal for life of a human and the grace of an elf,' that's what the midwife claimed!" Dr. Cordovan refilled his snifter and proffered the decanter to his colleague. The second man, a doctor in his own right, held up a hand in refusal.

"But what did I actually get? Hmm? Answer me that Petric. For what was Aurora's death rewarded?" Dr. Cordovan's voice grew louder with each word and he spilled more of the brandy that he drank.

Petric opened his mouth to reply but Dr. Cordovan cut him off, "A hodgepodge of mismatched features! And what's worse, the boy is an imbecile." The doctor tapped his temple with his free hand, "No mind for academia."

Petric coughed and Dr. Cordovan turned to see his eight year old son standing in the doorway of the study, tears welling up his eyes. The good doctor downed the last of the brandy and glared at his only child for an eternity before speaking.

"What a foul trade."

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Henrik stood on a hill with dozens of other young men and women. They each held a thin sword and watched on as two individuals swiped, dodged, and parried each other's attacks. Most of the watchers had small cuts along their cheeks, some of which still bled. One of the duelists misstepped and was rewarded with a slash to the face. The duelist three his hand to the wound, winced, then began to laugh as he joined the others.

An older man clasped Henrik on the shoulder, "Look, Henrik, I know that your friends have helped you with your exams. And I know Sahsan took your mathematics exam for you. And with the passing of Dr. Cordovan you no longer have the safety net of a tenured professor to argue on your behalf."

The winner of the bout shouted for Henrik to face him and the older man squeezed Henrik's shoulder before letting the young man go.

"When you're done here pack your belongings. Your expulsion goes into effect tomorrow morning."

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A wren perched on the branch above Henrik. It seemed to be watching as he scratched notes into the journal. Henrik paused to consider his notes, "What do you think, little bird? Are those responsible hiding in the Fangwood?". The wren began screeching and hopping about on the branch. "My other leads said in an old logging camp." The wren chirped and fluttered its wings.

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Henrik peered into the dark corners of the abandoned house desperate to spot some clue as to where the creature might be hiding. He called into the shadows, "I swear it now, creature: return the girl - show me you have a shred of warmth left in your soul - and I'll leave your home for good."

"RetuRN thE chiLd? NOo nOo...NOooo…" The voice reminded Henrik of scraps of meat being tossed into a bucket at the butcher's shop. "I diD NooOt TAke the cHild..."

Henrik stepped deeper into the house, snapping a discarded candle underfoot.

"thE GIrl was gIveN FReelY, pALadIn...And I haVE nevER reTUrned oNE of thEIr giFts," the voice oozed from the darkness. "BuUt if yuOo must HavE her bacK, YuoO'vE alReady fOunD her."

Henrik paused and as he lowered his eyes to the rotting floorboards beneath his boots he prayed to Verity. "Please, let it simply be a candle…"

There is no love. Only hate. No beauty. Only the disgusting. No innocents. Only the guilty. And the guilty will be punished.

Appearance:

Henrik dresses no better than most street level merchants, opting for comfortably fitting clothes under a practical armored coat. His one concession to style is an elaborate is a simple filigree of a silvery metal woven into the cuffs of his sleeves. In his younger days, henrik kept his hair long and over his ears to hide the misshapen features. As he aged, Henrik began keeping his pulled back. The boots - which are slightly different sizes - on his feet have been repaired and patched and reinforced and stitched a multitude of times over the years.

Desires/fears, and all that jazz:

Henrik needs a family. People to love him and to be loved by him. But in order to get that he needs to forgive himself for what he did in the past - once he is able to recall what he did. To show others that love, compassion, and kindness truly can change the world for the betterment of all.
The idea of succumbing to antipathy and listlessness is akin to death to Henrik. Innaction, in his eyes, is that same as handing the evil things in the world victory. Everyday he fears that he will wake up and decide that he can no longer keep fighting. That he has done his share and it is time to rest.
Henrik feels that children are among the most pure beings on Golarion and that, if it is in your ability to help, denying a child a loving home is among the worst sins one can commit. People put far too much importance on “intelligence” and “formal education.” Just because someone could not afford to attend The Acadmae in Cheliax does not mean they are dull. Ustalavic citizens spend too much time paying homage to the counts and barons and not enough time trying to better their communities.