Isoldda Ironbloom's page

64 posts. Alias of Brian Minhinnick (RPG Superstar Season 9 Top 16).


About Isoldda Ironbloom

Appearance:Reference Image. She's got 4C313 colored hair, and 2D colored eyes. Her skin is 78-6 C colored, and smooth. She has a few different sets of robes. One in dappled forest greens and browns, one in dappled greys, blacks and midnight blues and one is the colors of sand and bleached wood. Isoldda is extremely tall for a dwarven woman, standing at four feet four inches. She's lithe and fit, due to hours of daily training.

1st: Monk (Drunken Master, Sacred Mountain); Dodge (bonus), flurry of blows, stunning fist, unarmed strike, Ironhide, Champion (story), favored class skill point
2nd: Monk (Drunken Master, Sacred Mountain); Iron Monk (Toughness), improved grapple (bonus), favored class skill point

Isoldda
Female Dwarf Monk (Drunken Master, Sacred Mountain) 2 Aged 55
LN Medium Humanoid (Dwarf)
Init +2; Senses Darkvision 60'; Perception +8

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DEFENSE
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AC 18, touch 16, flat-footed 12 (+2 dex, +2 NA, +3 wis, +1 dodge)
HP 27 (2d8+11)

Fort +7, Ref +5, Will +6 SR 7
+2 vs poison/+4 vs alcohol

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OFFENSE
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Speed 20 ft.

Melee unarmed strike +4 (1d6+3) or Flurry +3/+3 (1d6+3)

Ranged sling +3 (1d4+3) 50' range

Space 5 ft., Reach 5 ft.

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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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Champion (Ex):As a swift action, you can declare a single combat challenge to one foe within 50 feet and in line of sight. Upon doing so, you gain a +1 bonus on attack rolls and a +1 dodge bonus to AC against that foe as long as no one else threatens that opponent or until the single combat challenge ends. If another combatant attacks you or your foe, the challenge ends and you take a -2 penalty on attack rolls and to AC for 1 round. Though you can declare a single combat challenge at will, once you declare it on a foe you can't declare it on the same foe for another 24 hours.

Stunning Fist (Ex) 2/Day DC 14:You must declare that you are using this feat before you make your attack roll (thus, a failed attack roll ruins the attempt). Stunning Fist forces a foe damaged by your unarmed attack to make a Fortitude saving throw (DC 10 + 1/2 your character level + your Wis modifier), in addition to dealing damage normally. A defender who fails this saving throw is stunned for 1 round (until just before your next turn). A stunned character drops everything held, can’t take actions, loses any Dexterity bonus to AC, and takes a –2 penalty to AC. You may attempt a stunning attack once per day for every four levels you have attained (but see Special), and no more than once per round. Constructs, oozes, plants, undead, incorporeal creatures, and creatures immune to critical hits cannot be stunned.
Special: A monk receives Stunning Fist as a bonus feat at 1st level, even if he does not meet the prerequisites. A monk may attempt a stunning attack a number of times per day equal to his monk level, plus one more time per day for every four levels he has in classes other than monk.

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STATISTICS
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Str 16, Dex 14, Con 18, Int 7, Wis 16, Cha 7
Base Atk +1; CMB +4 (+6 grapple); CMD 16 (18 grapple, 20 vs bull rush/trip)

Drawbacks: Hedonistic

Traits: Iron Liver, Brewmaster, Accelerated Drinker

Feats:Dodge, Ironhide, Champion, Toughness, Improved Grapple

Skills:
Acrobatics +7 (2 ranks, 2 dex, 3 class)
Craft (Alchemy) +10 (1 rank, 3 class, +2 lab, +2 race, +2 trait)
Perception +7 (1 ranks, 3 wis, 3 class)
Profession (Brewer) + (+2 trait)
Stealth +6 (1 rank, 2 dex, 3 class)
Survival +7 (1 rank, 3 wis, 3 class)

+2 Profession/Craft with metal or stone or booze

Racial Modifiers:+2 Con, +2 wis, -2 cha; deep warrior, magic resistant, stability, craftsman, stonecutting, darkvision, hatred, weapon familiarity

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GEAR/POSSESSIONS

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Location: On Person
Carrying Capacity Light:76 lbs. Medium:77-153 lbs. Heavy:154-230 lbs.
GP:158 GP

Sling 0 lbs. - 0 GP
Outfit (Monk's) x3 6 lbs. - 15 GP
Kit, Pathfinder's 22 lbs. - 12 GP
Potion of Enlarge Person x2 2 lbs. - 100 GP
Portable Alchemist's Lab 40 lbs. - 200 GP

Total Weight:70 lbs.

Location: Geoffry (Light Warhorse) - 110 GP
Carrying Capacity Light:228 lbs. Medium:229-459 lbs. Heavy:460-690 lbs.

Pack Saddle 15 lbs. - 5 GP
Chain barding 50 lbs. - 400 GP
Ironbloom Mead 600 pints 625 lbs. - 60 GP (Crafted)

Total Weight:690 lbs.

Personality:

Background:

Isoldda Ironbloom was born in 4658 AR to poor mushroom farmers who lived in some of the dangerous abandoned caverns just below Highhelm. She was a twin, her brother Ivarsk preceded her by a few minutes. The twins grew up with their mother Ivenna, father Hraddak and grandfather Beffuel, never having any other siblings. Beffuel was a skilled martial artist, master of the Sacred Mountain fighting style. He had purchased the farm after retiring from adventuring and gifted it to Ivenna and Hraddak as a wedding present. He stayed on, enjoying his retirement and protecting the farm from occasional Darklands threats below. Hraddak was a hard working but rather distant father, while Ivenna was kept busy most of the time running the meager household and trying to make ends meet. Thus much of the children's raising fell to Beffuel.

He taught them from the time they could walk how to stand properly, and how to breathe so their ki would be strong. When they were a little older he had them up before dawn practicing forms. Then they worked all day in the mushroom fields. When their chores were finished they took a short break for dinner, and then it was back to training until well into the evening. Every day they went to bed exhausted, but they were well loved and cared for by their grandfather. Beffuel was stern yet encouraging, never allowing the children to waver in their discipline. This was especially hard for Isoldda. Out of the two her spirit was much more wild and rambunctious. Most of the time she wanted nothing more than to explore and discover new things. Instead she was bound by duty to train and work constantly. She longed for more freedom all through her childhood and into adolescence. Beffuel eventually made it clear that he was hoping one of them could find a position in a noble's house as a guard. The money from a job like that would be enough to make the family comfortable, and the other sibling could stay home to guard the farm. Both Ivarsk and Isoldda had become competent fighters. They could beat all the other children their age unarmed. Even when it was the other children's blunt practice axes and light practice hammers that they faced off against, their fists and feet usually still won. By this time, Beffuel was nearly three centuries old and his health was not good. He knew his time was close, and he gave the children his blessing. He declared them far enough along the path to find the rest of the way themselves. He passed away later that night in his sleep, a smile on his face.

Beffuel's death had a huge effect on Isoldda. She had both gained her freedom, and lost someone as close as a father in one stroke. She took to rebelling, sneaking out at night to get drunk with older boys. She would go with them to seedy taverns where she would engage in nearly nightly drunken brawling. She still practiced her forms every morning while hungover, but she developed a her own distinct style during those sweaty painful nights. Her mother was worried sick, pleading with her to stop going out and fighting. Her father had withdrawn into himself even more, working grueling hours and barely communicating with anyone. Ivarsk frowned heavily on her rebellion, seeing it as unfitting a proper dwarf and shaming the memory of Beffuel. Isoldda didn't listen to any of them.

The lord of their lands was Hraggir Skuldafn. In 4709 AR his son Vigar announced that he would be holding a martial tournament with the goal of filling a position in the Skuldafn house guard. Any of the local peasants and lordlings were welcome to try out. It was a single elimination tournament, with blunted axe or hallow hammer and any armor allowed. The contestants would fight until one was unconscious or yielded. Each family was only allowed to send one contestant. Isoldda knew that it was Ivarsk's right as older brother to compete for the Ironbloom family. She also knew that about half the time they sparred each other she kicked his ass. Ivarsk made Isoldda swear that she wouldn't enter the competition. He tasked her with staying home to protect the farm in case there was a raid. Father was getting old, and he couldn't do it by himself. Isoldda reluctantly complied.

On the day of the tournament she stayed home as Ivarsk went off, dressed in his best robes. Her gut burned with cold ugly jealousy. Why should he get to fight while she had to stay home? She began drinking early that day, and before the morning was over was already quite drunk. Her jealousy only grew in proportion to her inebriation until the she couldn't stand it anymore. Donning a cloth sack as a mask, she made her way to the arena and entered the competition at the last minute as a mystery competitor. The first few rounds went quickly, both Isoldda and Ivarsk tearing through lightly armored, poorly trained peasant boys. Then the unfairness of the wealth disparity in the contestants started to show itself. The noble's third and fourth sons, and little knightlets all had armor of some kind. The next few rounds left Isoldda's knuckles bruised and bloody and her whole body aching, but she continued on. By this time in the fighting Ivarsk had guessed his sister's identity by watching her fighting style. Not wanting to dishonor their family he said nothing, continuing to win his own bouts.

The semi-final round found Isoldda facing off with a great wide barrel of a dwarf. The nephew of some Kalistocrat, he was covered head to toe in fancy stone plate, and wielding a warhammer. Knowing that her punches and kicks had little chance of damaging such a well protected foe, she feigned exhaustion. The signal horn was blown, and the hammer-wielder charged her right away. Isoldda waited until the last second, weaving back and forth drunkenly on her feet. As the hammer came down towards her, she flopped sloppily out of the way, one hand flicking out with expert speed to grasp one of the other dwarf's wrists. Her grip was like an iron manacle, and using the dwarf's own momentum against him she managed to jerk him halfway down to the floor. As she came around behind the dwarf, his hammer arm twisted firmly in her grasp, she ran up his back and locked her legs around him in a scissor hold. The noble dwarven son sputtered and spit as he struggled to free himself from Isoldda's grip but her legs were cords woven of adamant. The constantly tightening thighs knocked the larger dwarf's stone helmet off onto the floor and exposed the man's spit flecked beard and the rapidly purpling flesh of his face. The veins in his neck were bulging and his eyes looked like they might pop. Finally about to lose consciousness, the plate wearing dwarf started to slam his hand onto the sand of the arena floor, signaling his defeat.

Isoldda was roaring in victory before she realized what had just happened. Ivarsk had also won all his bouts, the final fight would pit the twins against each other. Damn it, he has to know it's me. He's probably furious. she thought, with a growing feeling of despair in the pit of her stomach. When the time came for them to fight, Ivarsk's eyes were like molten steel. He said nothing, but he didn't need to. The sounds of the roaring crowd, and the blood pumping in her veins were all drowned out by the anger and disappointment in her brother's pose. When the horn blew for the fight to begin, Ivarsk sank to his knees, arms spread wide. Without a word he tilted back his head and exposed his neck. The arena fell silent in shock. The quiet stretched out for several moments until a babe's cry broke the spell. The referee called out to Ivarsk, "You are forfeiting the match?" A nod was her brother's only reply. Immediately the crowd burst into a susurrus of whispers. The referee looked completely shocked, but after a moment declared, "The champion is....the mystery contestant!" There were a few scattered cheers, but most in the arena were confused and disappointed by what had just happened.

Standing quickly, Ivarsk rushed from the arena with Isoldda hot on his trail. "Wait, brother. I'm sorry!" she cried out to him, once they had made the street. Ivarsk turned on a dime, lighting shooting from his gaze. "WAIT!? You fool!" The pain of the blow came before she even had time to register that she'd been hit. The drink, and long rounds of fighting had taken their toll on Isoldda; she sunk to her knees immediately, spitting out blood. "Mother and father are all alone!" The exclamation was accompanied by another blow, this time a kick to the ribs. "You promised!!!" he screamed, right in her face. Suddenly feeling very sober, and very worried Isoldda nodded. "You can punish me later! Lets get home." Ivarsk didn't need her permission, he was already running towards their farm. She hobbled after him as best she could. Their home was several miles away, and even running the journey took a couple of hours.

They arrived in their cavern to find the farm a smoking ruin. There were small green bodies scattered everywhere, and the stone slabs of the house were covered in soot and cracked from heat. There was a pair of larger bodies lying in front of the door. Isoldda's heart sunk as soon as she saw them. "Oh gods, what have I done?" she asked, rushing forward. The twins saw that the bodies were indeed those of their parents. Their father had been hacked almost to pieces by crude goblin blades, and there were several of the little critters dead around his body. Their mother was lying still, a sickening looking swollen gash over her left eye. "Ma!" Isoldda said, rushing to her while Ivarsk stared in shock at their fallen father. Leaning close to her mother Isoldda was indescribably relieved to find her still breathing. Using some of the timber from the ruined house the twins quickly constructed a stretcher for their mother and made as much haste as possible back to Highhelm. Isoldda went back to the Skuldafn estate to report in and to apologize to her new Lord, as well as to beg his aide. Ivarsk took their mother to the temple of Torag where he would wait for her. The Skuldafn's take care of their own, and though Isoldda had literally just become part of their houseold they advanced her the money for curative magic for their mother. Isoldda became eternally loyal to Vigar Skuldafn from that moment. She would gladly giver her life in service to him.

It's been four years since that day, and Isoldda is a changed dwarf. She no longer seeks out fights, and has tempered her drinking to a somewhat more manageable level. Her brother found it in his heart to forgive her eventually, though their mother never fully did. Isoldda feels constantly guilty about this and has arranged for a modest dwelling for their mother in Highhelm as well as paying for all her needs. She's never broken her word to anyone since the day of the tournament, and has become known as a competant scout, tracker and fighter in the Skuldafn household. She's distinguished herself against orcs, goblins and drow on the borders of Skuldafn land, and even once spotted an assassination attempt on the Lord Skuldafn.

As soon as she had saved enough wages she began experimenting with brewing. She found she had a natural talent for the craft. Ivarsk has since agreed to help her market her brews and manage the finances of the affair. Her Ironbloom stout, while by no means famous, has experienced some small appreciation since its introduction to the public at Hraggir Skuldafn's funeral. When she found out that Vigar was forming an expedition to travel to a new continent and set up a dwarven enclave there, she was more than enthusiastic. She could see flow of events as well as any, and Avistan was starting to look less than friendly. She managed to secure a place for her mother, a skilled farmer, and Ivarsk. She hopes that their new life in a new land will provide a chance for them to heal some of the family wounds and to better the lot of the Ironblooms.