Irvine M. Wolf's page

About Irvine M. Wolf

Irvine Marcus Wolf
Male human fighter 1
NG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +5; Senses Perception +0
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Defense
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AC 18, touch 13, flat-footed 15 (+5 armor, +3 Dex)
hp 13 (1d10+3)
Fort +4, Ref +3, Will +1
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor)
Melee mwk greatsword +6 (2d6+6/19-20)
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Statistics
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Str 18, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 9, Wis 10, Cha 7
Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 18
Feats Cleave, Combat Reflexes, Power Attack
Traits indomitable faith, reactionary
Skills Acrobatics -1 (-5 to jump), Intimidate +2, Survival +4
Languages Common
Other Gear scale mail, mwk greatsword, backpack, bedroll, flint and steel, hemp rope (50 ft.), torch (6), trail rations, waterskin, 719 gp, 3 sp, 4 cp
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Special Abilities
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Cleave If you hit a foe, attack an adjacent target at the same attack bonus but take -2 AC.
Combat Reflexes (4 AoO/round) Can make extra attacks of opportunity/rd, and even when flat-footed.
Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
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Irvine stared at the candle in front of him, a pale orange light danced across his face as the flame flickered, lighting his features under the hood of his dark brown trenchcoat for milliseconds at a time. As he rested his arms on the table on either side of his drink, his fingers played with a small metallic item, turning it in his fingers slowly as he stared at the item in idle thought. He lifted his head slightly, looking between the chairs around his table. He was hesitant on telling his story but if people were to trust him, what other options did he have? It was a story that very few heard but these were people he would be traveling with for the coming days, weeks, perhaps even months. He flipped the hood back on his trenchcoat, revealing his short, roughly cut, dark brown hair. He quickly brushed his hands through it, ruffling it a bit and let out a soft sigh, dropping his hands back to the table. Best get it over with. “Growing up, my Mother, Father and I lived in a village on the dunes of the shore of the great sea. We didn’t have much… I was taught to fish, to hunt, fletch. We worked for what we had and we had no problems helping others. Rarely would anyone ever happen across us but for those that, our village would provide for them. Food, drink, shelter, anything they would need to get them where they needed to be.” He took a few small gulps of his ale, slowly putting it back on the table as he looked back to the candlelight.

“I don’t remember exactly how old I was when this happened. Nine? Maybe Ten? Come to find out, I don’t remember much of my childhood...but I at least remember this...” He let out a short sigh. “M-...my mother, my father, and I were on the shore a ways down from the village...We were net fishing. I remember seeing a large ship in the distance...a Galley. We didn’t know who they were or why they were there...But...unfortunately we found out.”

The four large men stepped on the shore, their scimitars drawn as they stepped towards little Irvine and his parents. Irvine’s Father, stepped forward in front of his family. “Can I help you sirs?” he asked, dropping the net and taking a few steps forward. The largest of the armed men, slammed the pommel of his scimitar into the father’s gut, dropping him to his knees and gasping for air. Irvine and his mother let out a scream of terror as the others approached, hauling the three of them to the boat and beating them into submission.

It was a Galley. A slaver’s ship. Two-Hundred slaves with nearly half that number in crew. As the small boat approached, an uproar sounded amongst the crew, taunts, laughter, and obscene comments that flooded their ears as if they were the very waves they sat on.

As their feet hit the deck, the crew began to pick and pull at them. “They’re a bit scrawny!” “They’ll be even scrawnier when we get through with them! Hahaha!” “I call first on the woman! She’s a pretty prize!” The woman, as bloody and beaten as her husband, clung to him, holding little Irvine who was shaking close to her.

“I remember exactly what the captain said as more slaves were brought on board...it burned into my mind like a brand.”

The captain walked across the deck, dressed in a tattered black coat, his hands behind his back holding a whip. Both ends were dark red, stained with blood where it had either torn into flesh or where the blunt end and been brought down onto someone’s skull. “Forget hope...Forget chances...forget your future. You have no hope. Your hope is here. You have no chance. Your only chance is to submit. You have no more future. Judgement day has passed. You are already dead...and this is your sentence.”

“No more future...Already dead.” Irvine let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “Why should I be afraid if I was already dead? What did I to fear? Nothing could kill me if I was already dead. I would fight like I was already dead...Now I knew I was alive...I wasn’t actually dead, but it put me in a mindset that has stayed with me ever since. Maybe not at first but...he planted a seed in my mind and all it needed was the right situation to grow and fully take root.”

“There-...there was this Warlord. His name was Dannarth Tolrak...He was the one in charge of-...of everything...a fleet of Slave Ships and War Ships. He controlled everything...we never saw him. But he was always there. Anyway...I was getting rebellious...and the captain of our ship didn’t like that...not at all. You see, when I was 14-...”

“Put them here on their knees in front of me!” The Captain barked out. Irvine his Mother and his Father were brought to their knees in front of the captain, their back and arms still red and bleeding from their freshly given scars by the Slave Driver. The large captain walked back and forth between them, hands behind his back. He stopped in front of Irvine and glanced down at him, a smug look on his face.

**Story too big to fit**