Class Features:
-Studied Target: Move Action, One target, +1 to Bluff, Knowledge, Perception, Sense Motive, Survival, Attack and Damage against opponent, DCs of slayer class abilities against opponent increase by 1.
-Track: +1/2 slayer lvl to tracking
Slayer Talents:
-Ranger Combat Style (Natural Weapon): Aspect of the Beast (Claws)
Would I were a burning wind to scour the flesh from your bones
Would I were a hungry beast to rend you limb from limb
Would I were a creeping plague to putrefy your eyes
Would I were a roaring river to dash to you upon the shore
Would I were the march of time to turn your dreams to sand
Yet all I am is just one man so oblivion you shall have.
-Inscription at Breakbottle Pass
When the humans came to my family, they told us we were not people. They said since we were not people, we did not have any rights to the coastal cliffs and waters we had occupied for generations. To some degree I suppose they were right, because we caved. Those of my brood of the right age were selected and sent to the humans.
The humans told us that to be people we must earn it, and to earn it we had to fight for them. They told us we now served in the Imperial Army of Molthune. Once again, to some degree they were right. I watched the humans spend the lives of my fellows like copper pieces in their wars against other humans and talking mammals of similar form. Yet it was the watching the hobgoblins that turned my stomach.
The humans were petty and shortsighted, but the Ironfang hobgoblins took such a joy in their tasks. It was not until I was dispatched to scout for a mixed squad of Ironfang and army regulars to seize a merchant caravan with ties to Nirmathas that things changed. The gaze of a halfling girl-child all filled with fear is what did it.
Those eyes, brown and uncomprehending at the slaughter around her cut through me like a bolt to the heart. They made me realize that being a person was something you earned but not something another could decide. I grabbed the child and ran.
The rest of the squad pursued me, dragging prisoners along with them. I could not fly for long periods with the girl, so I sought an advantage. Breakbottle Pass gave me that edge. Over the course of two weeks, I picked off the pursuers one by one in that godsforsaken stretch of dust, rock, and misery. By the time it was over, the only thing holding me together was spite. I must have only had a cupful of blood left in me.
I took the girl and the survivors of the caravan with me and headed north into Nirmathas. Without the help of the rest of the merchant crew, I probably would have died of my wounds. As it stands, I got to see Phaendar for the first time. They were understandably wary of a Molthuni deserter hiding out in their town but after my story spread, a blind eye was turned.
Things had changed, still not sure if it was a good thing or not. Little Tooth follows me around like a lost puppy so I guess I am a father now. She does not talk much but she is damned quick at a lot of things. I try to keep my snout clear for her sake at least.
Appearance:
Irraadraank, Ira to those of you without the proper face bits to say his name correctly, is something out of a prehistoric nightmare. Six foot and seven inches of blueish scale and muscle, with shrewd, dark eyes and a truly unsettling grin, he looks every bit like a dragon from some foolish tale about brave knights and thieves but compressed. Humans generally do not make clothes fit for something with wings, a tail, and digitigrade legs, so he generally only wears a sort of sandal and something akin to a great kilt.
Personality:
The Drake of Breakbottle Pass as he is known as to the locals affects an air of lazy disinterest in most things but this is mostly a sham. While not overtly greedy, Ira does have a draconically possessive streak in him. Whether he planned to or not, he has laid claim to Phaendar and the surrounding area. He holds not official office but he does seem to take care of problems for the locals with surprising frequency despite claiming to not care about them.
He loves games of chance and smoking his pipe. Most of all, however, he takes the care and raising of 'Little Tooth,' the orphaned halfling that adopted him, with deadly serious focus. They get along fine despite her muteness and he insists on paying for her education whenever he can.
He is coming around to the concept of altruism through very pragmatic channels. While he lived entirely through self-interest back when he served Molthune, his experiences in the days leading up to and after Breakbottle Pass have won him around to the general idea. The more people he can take care of, the more will help him should he need it. Not everyone will fulfill this social contract, he knows, but if he spreads the seeds, some might bear fruit.
