About Jericho DaskBackgound:
Jericho sat with his back against the wagon wheel, staring into the nearby campfire. He was not on guard tonight; a good thing given his mood. His thoughts this night were dark, directed back through the years to his childhood. New Boots lay curled on the ground beside him, tail thumping the ground hesitantly. The dog was sensitive to its master’s moods. Jericho tipped his flask to his lips once more, the cool fire of the whiskey a welcome distraction from those old memories. Too soon, however, they come sneaking back to remind him once again of how he was too embarrassing to be counted among his family.
*** The bank of the river pushed away from the small craft. Jericho knelt in the stern of the boat watching his Uncle Kiron sneer at him from the shore as he pulled once more against the chains that held him fast to the bottom of the boat. His voice was harsh in his own ears as he shouted back at the Lebedan nobleman, ”Is this because I would not keep my mouth shut and be a quiet, little bastard? My blood is as pure as yours! Have you been waiting for my father to die, counting the days until you could dispose of me? I am more a noble than your pompous, weak-chinned, spoiled, rotten, orc-shite-for-brains, useless, insignificant pustule of a son is!“ The heavy blow that ended his tirade left him stunned against the smooth-worn planks, ”Be silent, boy. You will give me a headache.” A second blow stole the world from him for a time. *** Kessi dropped to the ground beside Jericho, his arrival startling the younger man out of his dark memories, ”Are you gonna share that delightful testament to the distiller’s craft willingly, or am I going to have to steal from you while you sleep?” Jericho chuckled as he held the flask out to the caravan master, ”Easy, old man, just go easy on it. I don’t want to have to tie you to your wagon seat like I did the last time you ‘shared’ my flask.” Kessi scoffed as he raised the flask, ”Better than watching you drown your dark thoughts in it again.” He took a drink from the flask and made an appreciative sound as the alcohol did its work. After a moment he passed the flask back, ”You sure I can’t convince you to stay on another season? Your magery has pulled us out of the fire more than once, my friend. We will make another trip through here in another three or four months; you can find them and try to join up then.” Jericho shook his head as he swallowed another mouthful, ”’Fraid not, Kessi. Opportunity is knocking and I shall not to walk past the door without opening it. If there is the slightest chance of clearing my name, I must take it. I will be leaving you around midday tomorrow when we arrive.” Kessi sighed in resignation, ”I had to give it another try. Maybe one last bit of music before you go, then?” Jericho nodded in agreement, pushing himself to his feet and picking up his fiddle case from the back of the wagon. It will be good to move on to something new, but I will miss these people, he thought as he tuned the instrument. As his fingers began to tease a rousing song out of it, his thoughts drifted back to the one who taught him to play, and all the other things she taught his hands as well. *** Her name was Aliira. Her dark skin and huge eyes captivated him more thoroughly than ever the slavers’ chains did, and the music she wrung from the violin was enough to make his soul ache. And that was the point, I am sure, he thought as he settled into the bed he shared with the dark-haired, Katapeshi beauty. A slave like himself, to a despicable and petty tyrant in the River Kingdoms, her life would be forfeit if Jericho ever turned his magic against Lord Konnagh. And so now he had a small taste of freedom once again, and magic again flowed from him like the blood in his veins. But if I could find a way for both of us to get out… *** For his last song on his last night, he turned to the mournful and haunting melodies of a sun-drenched land far from Brevoy. He played his heart out, leaving it raw and aching for her touch, her smile, and her flashing eyes; emerald daggers that pierced him to his core. When it was over, he turned away from the campfire without a word and sought his bed in the darkness. The only sounds the guttering of the fire and a few softly weeping caravan folk. *** The fires raged through the palisade, through the wooden keep, and through the slave pens. Lord Konnagh’s petty reign of terror was over. But inside Jericho, all was ash; cold, lifeless ash. He had returned to the keep to find Aliira’s body discarded beside Mardoc’s low dwelling. ‘Lord’ Konnagh had given the only thing Jericho lived for to the sadistic slave master because he was a day late returning. The House Guard were expecting him, expecting his outrage. But Jericho’s wrath had been mighty, and though several wounds showed that rage was not proof against swords, the lord and his petty court were all dead. And you are now free, my love. Free forever. Your pain is ended, but I fear that mine has only truly just begun. Those slaves that had not fought for their lord stood arrayed behind him. He could hear the mutterings of the freed slaves. He was not their leader. Perhaps his Uncle had been right; perhaps his blood made him underserving of men to follow him. *** Jericho shook the dream away with an effort, starting up in the bed he had rented. Those he was seeking were not here, but they were expected to return before long. Why are these old memories haunting me now? Of all the years since, why is it now that they plague me? Perhaps it was the potential of finally clearing his name. Perhaps it was being so close to home once more. Whatever it was, Jericho had not slept easily in many days. As he lay back in bed, he turned his head toward the east and whispered a plea to the goddess of the sun, ”Sarenrae, Dawnflower, shield my dreams this night from the old fires that kindle in them. As you once showed me the strength of compassion, help me now.” *** The silence of the other slaves finally penetrated his fugue and he turned from the roaring of Lord Konnagh’s holding to come face to face with the most perfect example of canine breeding he had yet seen. The beast wagged its tail slowly, low behind it, a posture of caution and uncertainty. It sniffed at him and sneezed as if to comment on his torn, bloodied, and ash stained clothing, and then turned to walk away. It paused some six paces away to look back at him and chuffed softly at him as if to say, “Well, are you coming or not?” With nothing better to do, Jericho followed the strange golden dog out of the burning keep. *** The morning dawned bright and cheerful, helping to drive out the remnants of the unpleasant dreams. Jericho walked outside where he had an unimpeded view of the rising sun, raised his arms in greeting and gave a prayer of thanks to Sarenrae for easing his troubled dreams. As he ended his morning devotion, he noticed that work in the inn-yard had come to a halt. Turning to see what had caught their eye, Jericho felt his hopes shatter. Standing in a loose semi-circle facing him stood the king's bounty hunters. It seemed that his past sins had finally caught up with him. Personality:
Jericho is a naturally friendly man, but he doesn’t make true friends easily. Allowing others to get close to you only means they can be used against you. The events of his life have left him prone to brooding and melancholy, but they are usually distant enough that he can shake the feelings off easily if given an opportunity or distraction. He is the kind of person who is usually well-liked but has very few friends.
He will spend evenings playing his fiddle or throwing dice for a few coppers while laughing and sharing stories with others. His flask is never far from him, and always full of the best whiskey he can afford. He is no stranger to the company and charms of women, but none of them are ever allowed to get closer than skin; a rule he has broken only one time. He has a curious nature, and will sometimes get himself into trouble out of simple curiosity. He is generous with those who treat him fairly, but utterly ruthless with those who exploit his generosity. Though he is not greedy, a deep current of ambition flows through Jericho. He covets wealth and station, and the lifestyle and power that they bring. He is fairly phlegmatic but once he gives in to strong emotion, he does so with everything he is. He does not go to extremes often, but when he does he is a man of towering rages, burning passions, and soul-wrenching sadness. For the most part, he hates the Brevic nobility that rejected his birthright. He views nobles with suspicion and expects betrayal at their hands. Despite this, he craves the respect and recognition of the noble class; the righting of the wrong done him so many years ago. He has traveled with a variety of other peoples, and values the skills that others possess. Along the way he has learned a practiced tongue that will get him out of most trouble, and picked up a language or two. As a result he tries to be courteous to everyone; at least at the beginning. His most prized possession is the violin he carries and he more careful with it than he would be with a bag full of gemstones. Despite a life of hardship, Jericho has never lost an optimistic outlook on life. No matter how dark the future looks, he will never stop working to make it better. He is hard-working, honest, and dependable. He is quick to take the most dangerous tasks on himself if he feels capable of discharging them, and he follows the lead of others more easily than he takes leadership for himself. He is more impulsive than he is cautious. The Orc and Dragon inside him lend themselves more to spontaneity, and he has had to learn to keep a rein on his reactions as a result. His tendency to act before he has fully considered the consequences has led him into trouble more often than not. His actions at Lord Konnagh’s keep are a perfect example of this; he has had to dodge or fight agents of the noble’s family several times over the years since he killed the lord in a blinding fit of rage. His life has trained into him a willingness to face danger, and his blood races when he is being challenged. There is a certain sense of fatalism in how he faces danger, as if he is not terribly concerned with the possibility of death. He will certainly fight to survive, he is not seeking death, but he is a bit ambivalent about it. He is a devout follower of Sarenrae, and feels that she led him out of a very dark time in his life. Without her lessons in compassion and aid in healing his broken soul, he would have turned into a very different man; a much darker man. He is quiet and unassuming in his worship, and accepting of the beliefs of others. Jericho is a dog person. He does not like cats, or most other types of animals for that matter. Horses he sees as bigger dogs and gets along well with them. Description:
Jericho is a man of average height and build, but striking features and a comfortable, easy manner that makes for good company. There is something a little wild about his features, perhaps a bit feral. Depending on the light his skin has either a reddish or greenish cast to it, his bottom canines are a little more pronounced than is strictly normal, and his pupils are slit like a dragon’s eyes. He keeps his blond hair long, tied back with a leather thong, and wears a wide-brimmed hat during the day. He dresses in simple, functional clothing, and wears no armor. He carries a spear and a sling like he knows the business of using them. The most notable of his possessions was a violin of superb craftsmanship. Though no master of the craft, he handled the instrument with a familiar ease, and would do nearly anything to reclaim it. Perhaps the most notable thing about him is the fact that, during sunlit hours, he seems to always be surrounded by a shaded area whether or not there is anything nearby to cast a shadow. Combat Statistics:
Hit Dice: 2d6 +4(con)
Initiative: +4 = +2(dex) +2(trait) Armor Class: 12 (10 +2(dex)) Touch AC: 12 Flat-Footed AC: 10 Speed: 30ft Fortitude: 2 =0(class) +2(con)
Conditional Save Modifiers:
BAB: +1
Attacks: Alternate Racial Traits:
Focused Study: At 1st, 8th, and 16th level, gain Skill Focus in a skill of choice as a bonus feat. This racial trait replaces the bonus feat trait.
Silver Tongued: Humans with this trait gain a +2 bonus on Diplomacy and Bluff checks. In addition, when they use Diplomacy to shift a creature's attitude, they can shift up to three steps up rather than just two. This racial trait replaces skilled. Sorcerer Bloodline:
Crossblooded Orc/Draconic(Red):A crossblooded sorcerer has one fewer spell known at each level, and always takes a -2 penalty on Will saves.
Bloodline Arcana: Whenever you cast a spell with the fire descriptor, that spell deals +1 point of damage per die rolled. You gain the orc subtype, including darkvision 60 feet and light sensitivity. Whenever you cast a spell that deals damage, that spell deals +1 point of damage per die rolled. Bloodline Powers:
Sorcerer Spells:
A sorcerer casts arcane spells drawn primarily from the sorcerer/wizard spell list. She can cast any spell she knows without preparing it ahead of time. To learn or cast a spell, a sorcerer must have a Charisma score equal to at least 10 + the spell level. The Difficulty Class for a saving throw against a sorcerer's spell is 10 + the spell level + the sorcerer's Charisma modifier.
Like other spellcasters, a sorcerer can cast only a certain number of spells of each spell level per day. Her base daily spell allotment is given on Table: Sorcerer. In addition, she receives bonus spells per day if she has a high Charisma score (see Table: Ability Modifiers and Bonus Spells). A sorcerer's selection of spells is extremely limited. A sorcerer begins play knowing four 0-level spells and two 1st-level spells of her choice. At each new sorcerer level, she gains one or more new spells, as indicated on Table: Sorcerer Spells Known. (Unlike spells per day, the number of spells a sorcerer knows is not affected by her Charisma score; the numbers on Table: Sorcerer Spells Known are fixed.) These new spells can be common spells chosen from the sorcerer/wizard spell list, or they can be unusual spells that the sorcerer has gained some understanding of through study. Upon reaching 4th level, and at every even-numbered sorcerer level after that (6th, 8th, and so on), a sorcerer can choose to learn a new spell in place of one she already knows. In effect, the sorcerer loses the old spell in exchange for the new one. The new spell's level must be the same as that of the spell being exchanged. A sorcerer may swap only a single spell at any given level, and must choose whether or not to swap the spell at the same time that she gains new spells known for the level. Unlike a wizard or a cleric a sorcerer need not prepare her spells in advance. She can cast any spell she knows at any time, assuming she has not yet used up her spells per day for that spell level. Cantrips:Sorcerers learn a number of cantrips, or 0-level spells, as noted on Table: Sorcerer Spells Known under “Spells Known.” These spells are cast like any other spell, but they do not consume any slots and may be used again. Spells Per Day:
Spells Known:
Feats/Traits:
Traits:
Reactionary: Gain a +2 trait bonus to initiative. Illuminator: Gain a +2 trait bonus to Diplomacy, and Diplomacy is a class skill. Desperate Focus: Gain a +2 trait bonus to concentration checks. Drawback:
Feats:
Skills:
Background Skills (2 ranks):
Appraise Craft(any) +4 Linguistics = 1(ranks) +1(int) +5 Perform(string) = 1(ranks) +4(chr) Profession (Wis) Active Skills (3 ranks):
Equipment/Money:
Money: 0 gp 0 sp 0 cp Worn Items:
Backpack (2 lbs.):
Belt Pouch (1/2 lb.):
Light Horse:
Iron Pot (4 lbs.) Mess Kit (1 lb.) Hemp Rope 50’ (10 lbs.) Grooming Kit (2 lb.) String 200’ (2 lbs.) Hammock (3 lbs.) |
