Jasper Jade's page

Oread
+2 Str, +2 Wis, -2 Cha
Energy resistance Granite Skin: Rocky growths cover the skin of oreads with this racial trait. They gain a +1 racial bonus to natural armor.
Earth affinity Crystalline Form: Oreads with this trait gain a +2 racial bonus to AC against rays thanks to their reflective crystalline skin. In addition, once per day, they can deflect a single ray attack targeted at them as if they were using the Deflect Arrows feat.
Spell-like ability Treacherous Earth: Once per day for level minutes (10), an oread with this racial trait can will the earth to rumble and shift, transforming a 10-foot-radius patch of earth, unworked stone, or sand into an area of difficult terrain, centered on an area the oread touches.

Darkvision 60 ft.
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Weapon Training +2/+1 (Close +4, Polearm +3) (Gloves of Dueling included)
Armor Training 1 (Max Dex +1, ACP -1)
Advanced Armor Training [Master Armorer]
Bravery +3

Traits
Luck of Heroes +1 luck bonus to all saves <regional>
Fate's Favored increase luck bonuses by 1 <faith>

Feats
1st: Power Attack
F1: Improved Overrun
F2: Bulette Style
3rd: Combat Reflexes
F4: Weapon Focus (Gauntlets)
5th: Advanced Weapon Training[Armed Bravery]
F6: Greater Overrun
7th: Bulette Leap
F8: Bulette Rampage
9th: Charge Through
F10: Advanced Weapon Training[Defensive Weapon Training]

ToDo:
<Weapon specialization, Advanced WT/AT, Ghostslayer, Disruptive+Spellbreaker, Step up+Following step+Step up and Strike>

Bulette Full plate +2 (Restful) 5300gp [4000/2 (+2)+1650/3 (MW full plate) +1500/3 (bulette) +4500/2 (Restful)] 65lbs
MW Lucerne Hammer 315gp (MW lucerne) 12lbs
Adaptable MW Composite Longbow 1400gp 5lbs
Fortuitous Spiked gauntlet +1 8302gp 1lb (8000 gp (+2) +302 MW gauntlets)
Gloves of Dueling 15000gp -
Belt of Physical Might +2 (Str/Con) 10000gp 1lb
Amulet of natural armor +1 2000gp 1lb
Dusty Rose Prism Ioun Stone 5000gp -
Boots of Striding and Springing 5500gp 1lb
Ring of protection +1 2000gp -
Cloak of protection +2 4000gp 1lb
Quickrunner shirt 1000gp 1lb

MW Backpack 50gp 4lbs
Smoked goggles 10gp
Signal whistle 8sp
Merchant's scale 2gp 2lbs
Canteen 2gp 1lb
Trail rations x10 5gp 10lbs
Traveller Any-tool 250gp 2lbs
Silk rope 50' 10gp 5lbs
Blanket 5sp 3lbs
Bedroll 1sp 5lbs
Flint and steel 1gp
MW Manacles 50gp (DC 28 Str, DC 35 Escape artist)

Healer's kit 50gp 1lbs

Alchemist fire x3 60gp 3lbs
Alcali flask x3 90gp 3lbs
Holy water x2 50gp 2lbs
Tanglefoot x2 100 8lbs

Healing potions x2 100gp 1lbs
Protection from evil potion 50gp
Enlarge potion x2 100gp 1lb

Total money spent: 59.573,4

Remaining money: 426,6gp
Total weight: 139 lbs

Jasper Jade does not look like a hero; he looks like a landslide that stopped moving. His skin is the color of wet slate, textured like unpolished granite, and often smeared with the soot of a forge. He is wide - unnervingly so - with shoulders that seem to scrape against doorframes. He smells faintly of metallic garlic and the sour, sharp scent of old wine. [he is Oread, part of his make-up is Tellurium, of which some salts have strong smell of metallic garlic]

He wears a suit of bulette carapace full plate that has been a trophy and matter of pride for him. It lacks the elegance of a knight’s harness; every dent and scratch is a record of a blow he was too lazy to dodge. His most visible weapon is a massive Lucerne Hammer, its head heavy and stained. He carries himself with a heavy, rhythmic plod, his movements lacking grace but possessing the terrifying momentum of a falling boulder.

Personality
Jasper is characterized by two things: extreme laziness and a fanatical devotion to his reputation. He hates exertion. He will not run if he can walk, and he will not stand if he can sit. However, he realized early on that a guard who lets a client die has to work much harder to find the next job. Consequently, he is the most reliable man on the Trade Way simply because he doesn't want the hassle of a failed contract.

Thus, he takes the dangerous routes, going into war zones or near troll mountains or even Underdark if the pay is appropriately extreme.

Background
Born in the rocky foothills near Amn, Jasper was never meant for the delicate life of a jeweler like his kin. While they shaped gems, Jasper broke them. He spent his youth as a laborer, discovering that his Oread heritage gave him a literal "weight" that men and beasts couldn't match.

He joined a mercenary company not out of a thirst for glory, but because the pay-to-effort ratio was better than digging ditches. He refined a brutal fighting style based on the Bulette - low, heavy, and unstoppable. He doesn't bother with fancy footwork; he simply bowls over the frontline and crushes whoever is left standing with a single, massive strike. He eventually went solo, taking high-paying contracts to guard caravans. He has never lost a wagon, mostly because bandits take one look at the stinking, granite-skinned man leaning against the lead horse and decide there are easier targets.

The caravan masters of Iriaebor always say Jasper Jade has *never* lost a wagon. Jasper never corrects them. He just leans against an axle and lets the lie harden into something like truth.

Years ago, in the foothills near Amn, the bandits struck at a narrow stone bridge after a week of rain. Jasper calculated everything: distance, slope, which direction his weight would carry best. The rear wagon was in danger. The front wagon required less running. He picked the front.

The rear axle broke. A fifteen‑year‑old boy went with it, swallowed by the ravine before Jasper crushed the attackers in three efficient strikes.

He said nothing afterward—just stood in the rain, stone‑skinned and heavy, and made a decision:
End the fight immediately, before it spreads. Before choices matter. Before he has to choose wrong again.

That is why Jasper Jade always charges first, always breaks the line in one overwhelming impact.

He never lost a wagon again.
He just lost something earlier.

The desert road ripples long before the bulette erupts. Guards scatter. Merchants scream. Jasper remains still, sighing once at the wasted effort ahead. He spat a glob of metallic-tasting phlegm into the dirt and uncorked the vial with his teeth. The potion went down like liquid lead. As the magic took hold, his slate-grey skin groaned, expanding, his shadow stretching across the canyon floor until he stood twice as tall as any man. He didn't feel like a hero, but seems his luck put him in the situations where he couldn't avoid it. Having a dead merchant on your hand is no way to get paid.

The bullette looks up from the horse it slammed in its jump and the young guard frantically scampering away from the beast and the merchant on the wagon trying to remain incospicious. Suddenly large, heavily armored figure doesn't figure into it's tiny brain, but tremmors caused by the figure's walking, definitely do. It prepares to charge as Jasper lowers his center of gravity - low, heavy, unstoppable, the way he learned watching the creatures whose style he used.

When both charge, it looks slowed down, two mountains colliding. It is *inevitable*.
The collision sounds like an avalanche. Steel digs. Stone‑textured skins strain. The bulette tries to bite, but the warrior is ready with long haft of his weapon and low stance. He pushes under the maw, slamming his armored shoulder on the inside of the front leg, charging through, hitting the beast heavily with his armored fist as he goes by and incredibly, uppending the beast as he hit the back leg. As it collapses, for a moment, he slams his hammer, first horizontally as he rotates toward the main body of the prone monstrosity and then from above, cracking the carapace.

Jasper advances with grinding, deliberate steps. No dodge. No flourish. Weight as weapon. Certainty as armor.
The wounded beast tries to right itself, causing another pair of heavy hits from wary fighter. First one hit softer, less armored underbelly, hammer strike thudding like against softer earth. On second swing, the head is turned so the spike hits the same spot, penetrating deep into the damaged chest and bursting the beasts heart.

When the creature collapses, bleeding into sand, he comments to himself "Great, more work!"

For an instant, as the earth settles, Jasper feels a faint echo beneath his ribs - an answering rumble from whatever part of him is more stone than flesh.
He does not like unanswered calls.

There is a murmur among the guards, one of them half-states, half-asks "You fight like one of them."

He shoulders the hammer returning to his normal size and sighing heavily.
"Next time," he tells the merchant, "we charge extra for excavation."

He looked at the dead titan, then at the terrified, silent guards.
"Well?" Jasper grunted, wiping a smear of blue-black ichor off his shoulder-plate. "The animals aren't going to calm themselves. Let's move. We're burning daylight."
While others collected animals, he collected the plates of the beast, some of them too big even for his wide frame. Still, he will either honor the beast as armor or as decoration. And he got the neclace of it's sharp ridges that served as teeth to protect him even more.

By the time the caravan reached Athkatla, the story had grown. Kaelen told the taverns about the "Mountain that Walked." Oakhaven told the Merchant's Council about the guard who didn't even break a sweat while flipping a landshark. Jasper Jade was no longer a "dead-end guard". In the eyes of the high-nobility, he was the only man in Amn who could make a bulette look like an inconvenience.

The merchant's hall in Athkatla smells of perfume and old money trying too hard. Jasper waits by a wall, armor matte, but cleaned. People pretend not to notice the sharp scent clinging to him.

A minor lord approaches with a thin smile.
"You're...reliable, I hear."

Jasper nods once.

"But surely you have ambitions beyond caravan work?"

Jasper weighs the question like a stone he does not want to lift.
"Ambition requires people that want to talk to you." he says. "Hard for me. Requires extra work. You will take me because your wagons will get there, not because I'm good at talking."

Jasper stood in the corner of the ballroom, a blackened monument of heavy armor amidst a sea of colorful silks. He smelled of metallic garlic even through cleaning with sand and through the armor. Even the concoction he drank earlier wore off as the party dragged on. His armor was a deliberate choice to keep the "socialites" at a distance. He held a glass of expensive Maztican red, not sipping, but holding it so people wouldn't try to hand him anything.

A merchant's daughter, beautiful in her gown, shimmering in pearls, approached. "Master Jade, they say you once held off ten ogres at the Cloud Peaks."
Jasper looked at her, his jade eyes flat. "Eight," he corrected. "Two ran away. It was easier that way."

He didn't offer a smile. He didn't ask her name. He was here because the contract required "visual representation of security" for the gala. He stayed near the pillar, legs locked, eyes scanning the exits. He didn't mingle; he endured. He was the only person in the room not having fun, which was exactly why the merchants felt safe enough to enjoy themselves.

Later, the contract was signed anyway.

Outside, a servant whispers, "Is he even a man?"

Jasper hears it. He says nothing.
Reputation is currency.
Charm is expenditure.
He prefers savings.

Rain needles Jasper's armor, each drop an irritant. Slight acid that was created in contact with his stony skin and sweat rich in salts itched. And is smell grew worse as the water spread the salts from slight cracks in his skin. In that great mood, as the caravan was stalled outside Trademeet, he sees Darek Voss - another guard captain, polished, smug, far too clean.
"Still leaning instead of leading, Jasper Jade?" Voss calls.

Jasper says nothing.

Then Voss adds, too lightly, as he comes closer.
"I heard about the ravine job. Rear wagon. Missing boy. Funny how legends form."

That is new.
Something shifts inside Jasper - pressure like the earth answering a touch. He should ignore it. Ignoring is efficient. Safe. He does not ignore it.
The first shove sends Voss sliding in mud, his plummed helm falling on the side. Laughter erupts, but Voss' mercenary group forms a line in front of their captain. Jasper hoists the hammer without looking away.

He moves: low, heavy, unstoppable. Voss's men scatter as Jasper overruns the line like a collapsing hillside. His hammer slams into the displaced helm inches from Voss's skull, the impact silencing even the rain.

"You say it clean," Jasper rumbles as he bends low over the man, "or you don't say it again."

He shrinks back away from the captain and walks away before anyone finds their courage to stop him.

Days later, the rumors spread - not about the ravine, but about *instability*, *temper*, and how Jasper Jade might not be fit for delicate situations.

Merchants still hire him.
They just negotiate harder now.

Rain continues to irritate him.

Voss, somewhere dry, smiles.