About KhuvaanKhuvaan
-------------------- Defense
-------------------- Offense:
-------------------- Statistics
-------------------- Feats:
-------------------- Traits: (2 + 1 Campaign)
-------------------- Adventuring Skills (7 ranks)
Background Skills:
(Italicized are Class Skills. * Denotes Class Skills with ranks put into them.) Languages: Common, Orcish, Elvish
-------------------- Class and Racial Abilities
Scavenger: +2 racial bonus on Appraise, +2 Perception to find hidden objects (also traps and secret doors), determine if food is spoiled or identify potion by taste. Replaces Intimidating trait. Long-Limbed (Elven Trait) Elves with this trait have a base move speed of 35’. This racial trait replaces weapon familiarity. (In this case, Orc Weapon Familiarity) Favored Enemy (Humans) Gain a +2 bonus on Bluff, Knowledge, Perception, Sense Motive, and Survival checks against creatures of his selected type. Likewise, a +2 bonus on weapon attack and damage rolls against them. A ranger may make Knowledge skill checks untrained when attempting to identify these creatures. Track A ranger adds half his level (+1) to Survival skill checks made to follow tracks. Wild Empathy A ranger can improve the initial attitude of an animal. This ability functions just like a Diplomacy check to improve the attitude of a person (see Using Skills). The ranger rolls 1d20 and adds his ranger level (+1 ) and his Charisma bonus to determine the wild empathy check result. The typical domestic animal has a starting attitude of “indifferent”, while wild animals are usually “unfriendly”.
-------------------- Equipment: (175 gp Starting) Machete d6 /19-20 / x2 / 2lbs. / 10 gp
Studded Leather Armor +3 AC / +5 max / -1 penalty / 20 lbs / 25 gp Backpack 2 lbs / 2 gp
Total Cost: 138.63 gp
PP 0 / GP 36 / SP 3 / CP 7 —--------------------------------------------------------- Background: Born the son of an Orcish herbalist and an Elven archer, Khuvaan grew up in a small inn just outside of Crowstump. His mother Mhyris worked as a tavern wench, an odd occupation for an Orcish woman in any civilized area, where she tended a garden and sold salves and potions on the side. Khuvaan's father, a highly-respected ranger named Baelad Arrowsdale, spent much of the year away from home, hunting down bandits and fighting in border skirmishes. In his dreams, Baelad was everything that Khuvaan aspired to be, and the boy's daydreams were filled with the adventures of his famous father, and his daring feats in the service of the kingdom and all that was good and right. A wanderer at heart, Baelad would return to the inn to visit, and tell the boy tales of his exploits fighting goblins and bandits in the battles near Lastwall. He promised him that one day he would come ack for Khuvaan, when he was old enough, and would take the boy with him to learn his trade. Sadly for Khuvaan, that day would never come. When the boy was twelve, word reached the inn of a horde of raiders that were swarming the countryside, and a stranger arrived at the inn, asking for Khuvaan's mother. His name was Grinth, a known friend and trusted companion of Baelad. He was a ranger in his father’s company and came bearing dark news. When the weathered bowman asked to have a room to speak privately with his Mhyris, Khuvaan feared the worst...that his father had been killed in action, though heroically, no doubt. The truth, unfortunately, was far worse. Horrifying as it was to the boy, Grinth revealed that rather than working with a mercenary force that had scouted the territory near Lastwall for a rogue army of bandits, the elven ranger had actually been working with the enemy armies. He'd been scouting out locales, and helping the bandit lords in planning ambushes, and was now being hunted by the soldiers of Crowstump and Lastwall. Khuvaan was devastated when he learned the truth from his mother. Everything in the boy's world seemed turned upside down. His father, the hero, had forsaken everything that he had stood for, and had seemingly sold out to the enemy for a pouch full of gold. It made no sense, and yet, everything pointed to this being true. Grinth, himself an elderly Ranger and scout of some skill, convinced Mhyris to let him take the boy with him, to apprentice with him and some other Rangers, so that they might give the headstrong and now bitter boy, some guidance. Being born the child of an Orc and an Elf, Khuvaan never really fit in with the other human children that lived near by, and didn’t make friends easily. Frankly, he trusted virtually no one. With some reluctance M’hyris agreed, and within a fortnight, Khuvaan. was off with his newfound mentor to Kassen, where he introduces the half-orc to Arnama Lastrid, and after some protracted and at times, heated discussion, they began the boy's training. Though angry at the world, Khuvaan proved to be a gifted student, talented in the ways of woodcraft and the wild, and as his father had before him, showed a natural gift for bowmanship and archery. Ever the loner, and far from being the most friendly of fellows, Khuvaan gets along well with Arnama…or as well as anyone can with the difficult Ranger, and is excited to complete his training and to set off on his own, to learn the reasons behind his father's treachery. —--------------------------------- Mentor:
—---------------------------------- 1/2 Orc Ranger 1| HP: 13/13| AC: 16 (T13, F13)| CMB: +4, CMD 16: | F: +5, R: +5, W: +3| Init: +1| Perc: +5 | Speed 35'| ------------------------- Roleplay example: https://paizo.com/campaigns/v5748p75ivm9f/gameplay#29 Training:
”C’mon, boy! Is that the best you can do?” Khuvaan grimaces as yet another pebble strikes him in the back, more painful on an emotional level than physically. Arnama was hiding in the forest, near enough to throw small rocks at him, and even taunting him with her catcalls…and yet, he couldn’t find her. Scowling, the half-orc drops down to a crouch…a hunter’s crawl, he called it, and breathes slowly. Quietly. He knew the direction from where the stone had come…or at least thought he did…but he also knew it was likely that his mentor had already moved from her hiding spot. He was about to call out an insult of his own when another small pebble hit him in the back of his boot. Khuvaan actually growled, his Orcish temper flaring, he almost lost control. Almost. But remembering his training and the many nights of scolding from Arnama, the half-orc tilts his head slightly, listening. To the wind. To the trees, and to the animals. Just like he’d been taught. But there was little help there. Khuvaan started to move, slowly, towards one of the larger trees in the hope of drawing her out or at least catching her unawares when he caught it. Not a sound, nor even a motion…but a scent. One of the few advantages to having a mix of Orcish and Elven blood was that his sense of smell was at times, ridiculously good. She was nearby. Very close. The smell of her sweat and her hide and leather armor was near enough he could almost touch it. Anticipating another attack from his left flank, the half-orc ducks and rolls forward, just as another stone flew by, ricocheting off the bark of a thin tree. But Khuvaan’s victory was short-lived. Even as the apprentice ranger chanced a grin, coming up to his knees in the soft forest floor, Arnama was there, colliding with him, driving him off his knees and onto his back, with her straddling his chest…and a dagger to his throat. Khuvaan blinked. This was new. ”Yield?” the middle-aged ranger sneered, her eyes full of fury. The half-orc considered flipping her over, or attempting some other physical defense. He as stronger than his mentor, to be true, but he wasn’t sure he would be able to free himself before she slit his throat…if that was what she was truly intending. ”Aye. Yield.” he mutters, his eyes never leaving hers. Arnama simply nods, all signs of rage and bloodlust instantly gone, and then rolls off of her student. ”And what did we learn today, Boy?” Pushing himself up, Khuvaan considers the question for a long moment, and then answers, ”Expect your foe to do the unexpected. Try to think how they think, and anticipate…” ”Bah.” the woman cuts him off, a strand of her salt and pepper hair escaping from her hood, ”You quote me something safe and insincere. What is the REAL lesson? What do you now know?” The tall half-orc ponders for a moment, then grins, ”Never chase YOU into the woods?” ”Damn right!” Arnama cackles, then shakes her head before tossing yet another pebble at her apprentice, which he deftly dodges. She pause, then adds, ”Smart ass.”
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