Kremernesh Dustdapple's page

Indomitable Faith: You were born in a region where your faith was not popular, but you still have never abandoned it. Your constant struggle to maintain your own faith has bolstered your drive. You gain a +1 trait bonus on Will saves.

Reactionary: You were bullied often as a child, but never quite developed an offensive response. Instead, you became adept at anticipating sudden attacks and reacting to danger quickly. You gain a +2 trait bonus on initiative checks.

Reclaiming your Roots: Your interest in the village of Kelmarane is more personal than most of the others who are heading out to aid in the reclamation. To you, this is purely a matter of honor, as Kelmarane is where you were born. Your were forced to flee the village when you were only a few years old, and you didn’t discover this until a few years ago—perhaps you found an old document that revealed the truth, or maybe you learned the news from a relative. Both of your parents are now dead, and from what you’ve been able to piece together, one of your parents actually died in the village when whatever happened there happened. Your surviving parent spirited you away to safety to grow up elsewhere, but never spoke of Kelmarane and always told you that your other parent died when you were a child in a horrific tragedy like a fire or a flood that swept away the body. Now that you’ve started to uncover the truth, you are convinced that your heritage remains hidden in Kelmarane. Whether you just wish to find out what really happened to your parent that died there or you want to rebuild the village in his or her honor is up to you—but Garavel’s caravan to the village is just the opportunity you’ve been waiting for. When your other parent died recently, among his or her effects was a single item that once belonged to the parent who died at Kelmarane. This item is your most valued possession—a piece of jewelry worth 350 gp, any masterwork weapon or armor worth no more than 350 gp, or a wand containing any 1st-level spell (CL 1st) with only 20 charges remaining. If you ever lose this item, your resulting depression imposes a –1 penalty on Will saves for 1 year.

Acrobatics +8 (+4 to jump)
Bluff +8
Climb +4
Craft (alchemy +4
Disable Device +8
Escape Artist +4
Knowledge (local) +6
Perception +5
Sense Motive +5
Sleight of Hand +8
Stealth +12

Racial Modifiers +2 Knowledge (local)

Two-weapon Fighting: You can fight with a weapon wielded in each of your hands. You can make one extra attack each round with the secondary weapon.

Prerequisites: Dex 15.

Benefit: Your penalties on attack rolls for fighting with two weapons are reduced. The penalty for your primary hand lessens by 2 and the one for your off hand lessens by 6. See Two-Weapon Fighting in Combat.

Weapon Finesse: You are trained in using your agility in melee combat, as opposed to brute strength.

Benefit: With a light weapon, rapier, whip, or spiked chain made for a creature of your size category, you may use your Dexterity modifier instead of your Strength modifier on attack rolls. If you carry a shield, its armor check penalty applies to your attack rolls.

(CL 1st; concentration +5)
. . 1/day—dancing lights, ghost sound (DC 15), prestidigitation, speak with animals

Equipped leather armor, mwk bladed scarf[ISWG], wakizashi[UC]
Backpack bedroll, grappling hook, ink, inkpen, journal[UE], mirror, piton (10), silk rope (50 ft.), trail rations (5), waterskin
Belt pouch shuriken (30), caltrops, chalk (10), thieves' tools, 14 gp, 1 cp

I was searching for the town where I was born when I was taken. After I did some things I’m not proud of, Rathamyn, the bastard, told me that I should begin my search southward, in Quantium. But that would mean I’d have to travel through the Trackless Storm… I couldn’t ignore the lead, I’d always wanted to know who I was; where I’d come from. So, I made my way south, stopping over in Tiven’s Reed to resupply. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about making it through there alive, but luckily, I didn’t get the chance to find out. We were just a few miles south of town when I heard them. Our caravan was hit before we had a chance to react, and a sack was thrown over my head while a rough rope pinned my arms to my sides. I struggled - I have scars on my arms from the rope burn - but it didn’t matter. Something blunt and hard cracked into the back of my head and that was that.

When I came to, I had no idea how many days we’d been travelling. They kept the sack on my head, only exposing my mouth to squirt a wineskin into my parched lips or shove a few bits of hardtack down my throat. But it wasn’t long before I noticed the smell. Long before I could hear the dull groan of the stinking masses, I knew where they were taking us. To Castle Clarion on the southern edge of the city. And from there, to the slave markets of Katapesh...

I recognized the impressive complex immediately. The slender towers and red slate roofs, not to mention the black-sailed ships at dock. While I’d never seen it with my own eyes, I had heard the stories. Dread hardened into a stone in the pit of my stomach as despair cut through my sun-addled mind like a razor. And just like that, everything changed. We were less than a day’s march from the castle when she struck. One of the slavers exploded into a flurry of cuts, spins, and kicks as men screamed and died all around her. I’ll be honest, I couldn’t do anything but stand and stare at her. I had absolutely no idea why she was attacking her comrades, but the way she moved held me spellbound.

Once they all lay dead or dying in the sand, she rushed toward me. I readied myself to meet my maker, but as she thrust her arm out, it contained not a weapon, but an open hand, “Come with me, quickly!” I had no idea how to react. This woman had just slain all of her friends and now she wanted me to go with her. ”That dullard took you for a halfling, but my eyes are sharper than that. Come with me, gnome, if you want to live!” I glanced around at the slavers, their blood quickly soaking the sand, and shrugged my agreement. I didn’t have enough money to make it back to the Reed and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious as to what this woman was all about. Once we entered the city we slowed our pace, cutting through the masses towards the bazaar in the Lower City. I had been to Katapesh before, so I knew the general layout. We passed by a large tent with a sign reading “Jangley” and ducked behind. I helped her move a few large ceramic jugs off of a nondescript rug and then she pulled the rug aside to reveal an ancient wooden trap door. She took a key from a cord around her neck and unlocked the portal. The heavy doors swung silently open on well-oiled hinges. Hot, musty air buffeted us as we descended into the darkness...

And that was how I met Oara, a fist of the Veiled Sun. With no money or gear, I had no choice but to stay with them until I had enough resources to resume my journey south. She took me into her care and taught me the ways of their order. They called themselves “ninja”, some sort of antiquated way of life from the far east. They operated through contracts obtained through a hidden network of spies and informants. They held to no allegiance other than themselves. If I could make the cut, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to make the money I needed. So I began to train. I learned how to move unseen in the darkness, how to react quicker than most mortal men, and how to create and apply a variety of toxins and poisons. They paid homage to Sivanah, Goddess of Illusions, and I spent many nights studying her teachings by candlelight. I trained for months before they extended an official invitation for me to join their ranks. When that day had finally arrived, Oara pulled out a large dusty tome with a red feathered quill. “The book of names. Tell me your name just once and never again. It will go into this book and then it will be erased from memory. Only then will you become a fist of the Veiled Sun. What is your name?”

“Kremernesh Dustdapple, but most just call me Nesh.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously and she looked at me - into me - for a long moment before she spoke again, “That is a name that I have known for quite some time. So, I have finally found you.”

She closed the book without writing my name down.

“I know where you come from and it is not to the south. You’re from Kelmarane to the west. Both of your parents are dead. I knew your father. He gave this to me to give to you if I ever found you. It belonged to your mother.” From the chest where the book was kept, she pulled out a finely made, but otherwise unremarkable scarf. I looked up at her skeptically, but then she smirked at me and spread out the garment. It was then that I realized that hidden within the folds of the cloth were row upon row of razor-sharp blades. I handled it delicately. ”You knew my father? Tell me of him.” Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to tell. He was a trader and frequented Jangley’s Shop in the bazaar above. Over time, a few fists recommended him as someone with a useful network of allies who could be trusted, so eventually he began working as an informant for the Veiled Sun. He wasn’t ninja, but he was a good man and brought in a lot of lucrative contracts. ”In the name of Sivanah and the Order, I bid you go and seek out your roots. Travel west to Kelmarane and find out who you are. When that is done, you may return here. Once you are whole, then you will truly become one of us. Ninja.”

And that brings us to the present. Luckily, it didn’t take long for me to find a caravan heading to Kelmarane run by a man called Garavel. He has gathered a ragtag group from all around Katapesh to reclaim the forgotten town from a pack of gnolls in the name of the Pactmasters. A noble cause but one that matters little to me. I am finally going to find out who I really am.

Nesh is short and slim with a round nose and chestnut hair. His leather armor is concealed by a variety of scarves (one of which hides an array of deadly blades) and veils, all in earthen tones of brown, gold, and tan. A pouch at his waist contains a number of shuriken and flanking the pouch, a short curved blade rests in a scabbard marked with a veiled sun. He wears a small pack and worn ankle high boots. His hair is bound tightly against his head in a small knot at the base of his skull.

Nesh is rarely abrasive, but he also rarely takes things at face value. He is wary, cautious, and slow to trust those with whom he is unfamiliar. His driven by his need to find out who he is and his desire to become a full member of the Veiled Sun after investigating his roots at Kelmarane. He will not hesitate to fight for his allies, and has a sarcastic sense of humor.