Kaedon's page

About Kaedon

HP: 10 (+1 con, +3 toughness feat)
Init: +2
AC: 12; touch: 12; Flatfooted: 10
Melee: Shortspear +1, 1d6+2 damage (+1 str, +1 arcane strike feat)
Heavy Mace +1, 1d8+2 (+1 str, +1 arcane strike feat)
Ranged: Lt. Crossbow +2, 1d8+1 (arcane strike feat)

CMB +1 CMD +13

Saves
Fort +1
Reflex +4 (when familiar present)
Will +2

Skills
Bluff 8; Spellcraft 4; Use Magic Device 8; Knowledge Arcana 4; Perception 2; Sense Motive 2

Feats
Toughness; Arcane Strike; Alertness (when familiar present)

Spells
0 Detect Magic; Mage Hand; Light; Read Magic
1 (4/day; DC 15) Magic Missle; Grease

Equipment
Leather Explorer's Outfit (with a few discarded pieces of leather armor attached to shoulders & legs); Shortspear; Lt. Crossbow; Case 20 Bolts; Backpack; Bedroll; Blanket; Caltrops; Chalk; Case map/scroll; Inkpen; Ink; Paper; Flask Oilx2; Tanglefoot bag; Tindertwigx2; sml. mirror, trail rations (4 days).

Appearance
Blonde hair, green eyes sometimes showing a copperish glint, tattoo of crescent moon on left tricep. White ferret with eyes that likewise show a copperish cast usually perched on shoulder, whom he frequently whispers to.

History
letter found among the belongings of Kaedon Whitehart's mother, shortly after her passing:

My son,
Perhaps it was out of cowardice, tinged with more than a little selfishness, that I never found the courage to tell you these things while I yet lived. During my illness, at least, I found the strength to write this letter, and tell you of the secrets you should have learned long ago.

While I pray you will always think of me as your mother, the woman who raised and nurtured you, I must tell you that I am not the woman who birthed you. That was the best friend of my youth, Miralee Varos. Miralee and I grew up among the poorest of the poor in a small outpost village named Falcon's Hollow, eventually finding employ as barmaids in one of its seedier taverns.

A strange man rode into town one night, a man of almost unearthly beauty and grace. Perhaps he was simply another adventurer. Some whispered he was something from the Vale or the desolate mountains, magicked into the form of a man. Your mother was fascinated by him. He paid his way with fistfuls of gold chains and dwarven-wrought goblets. He was gone before the following dawn, though no one saw him leave. Some did whisper a great dark shape took flight that night, flapping off towards either vale or mountain. But by whatever means, he was gone. And Miralee soon grew large with child.

I will say little of the events that occured soon after your birth, dear child. Only that another stranger came to the tavern soon after,this one as dark and brutish as the other fair and bright. He killed many people that night, your mother first among them. And always did he scream "Bring me the whelp!"

Despite my terror I managed to flee to your mother's room and scoop you up from your crib. I lowered us both down through the window and fled into the night, leaving Falcon's Hollow and the terrors of that night far behind.

In my heart I would wish you to leave these revelations be and find happiness where you will in life. But I know that you will no doubt seek out what you may find of your father, in hopes of learning more of your "gifts," or the mark upon your arm. I can only wish you well in this.