Lanriel Moonmeadow's page

Feat and Skill Racial Traits

Keen Senses: Elves receive a +2 racial bonus on Perception checks.

Magical Racial Traits

Elven Magic: Elves receive a +2 racial bonus on caster level checks made to overcome spell resistance. In addition, elves receive a +2 racial bonus on Spellcraft skill checks made to identify the properties of magic items.

Offense Racial Traits

Weapon Familiarity: Elves are proficient with longbows (including composite longbows), longswords, rapiers, and shortbows (including composite shortbows), and treat any weapon with the word “elven” in its name as a martial weapon.

Alternate Racial Traits

Dreamspeaker: A few elves have the ability to tap into the power of sleep, dreams, and prescient reverie. Elves with this racial trait add +1 to the saving throw DCs of spells of the divination school and sleep effects they cast. In addition, elves with Charisma scores of 15 or higher may use dream once per day as a spell-like ability (caster level is equal to the elf's character level). This racial trait replaces elven immunities.

N Tiny animal
Init +2; Senses low-light vision, scent; Perception +5
DEFENSE

AC 15, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+2 Dex, +2 size, 1 natural armor)
hp 4 (1d8)
Fort +2, Ref +4, Will +3
OFFENSE

Speed 15 ft., climb 15 ft., swim 15 ft.
Melee bite +4 (1d3–4)
Space 2-1/2 ft.; Reach 0 ft.
STATISTICS

Str 2, Dex 15, Con 11, Int 6, Wis 13, Cha 2
Base Atk +0; CMB +0; CMD 6 (10 vs. trip)
Feats Weapon Finesse
Skills Acrobatics +6, Climb +10, Perception +4, Stealth +18, Swim +10; Racial Modifiers +4 Stealth

Lanriel Moonshadow hates himself, and knows that a great deal of his behaviour is deliberately self destructive, designed to punish himself. He has thrown himself into the gritty culture of Diamond Lake, treating human whores, gambling, and drinking cheap ale like another penitent might a hair shirt. He is sarcastic, self deprecating, and tends to admire things that are his antithesis.

Since his ordeal he has been unable to meditate, and has found himself sleeping. Nightmares wrack him through the night so he often attempts to go without sleep, especially since there is something terrifyingly real about his dreams.

Despite himself the elf finds himself, occasionally, enjoying his earthy interactions. Intellectually he wishes to encourage this, as he has takes no joy from the finer things that he once loved.

Lanriel is obviously a handsome elf, but his insomniacs eyes, sour expressions and shaven head distract from the fact. He still walks and holds himself as if pained, though truth be told apart from his gait this is mostly psychological. He fosters a grubby appearance, with wine and ink stains prominent upon a set of servicable, but grubby and overlarge clothes. His limbs and torso are covered in silver scars and he takes some pain to keep them concealed.

Self loathing

From a well connected Celeneian noble house. He has distant though loving parents, a much older sister, in Celene, and an Uncle - Ellival Moonmeadow owner of the silver mine in Diamond Lake - whom he has little in common with. Lanriel does love his family intellectually, but finds himself intensely irritated by their presence in the wake of his ordeal. He often has nightmares about them being melted alive before him in place of his old cronies.

He wants to do something visceral enough to break through his malaise, and does not particularly care if he risks death. Part of him also wants to be strong enough to protect others, to make up for the deaths his arrogance caused.

I like tough campaigns, they are more rewarding and I enjoy the feeling of achievement against the odds. I have tried to play this several times, but life and in the case of PBP vanishing DMs have gotten in the way. I am aware that with a low level wizard I may be taking on a big challenge, but think I have a character I can have a lot of fun with in both RP and battle.

Lanriel Moonmeadow was an arrogant young elven lordling, a distant cousin of Queen Yolande herself, graceful strong and handsome his arrogance was well marinated. Then when hunting with a group of his peers he spied a lone orc and called for it to become their quarry. When the elven lordlings surrounded their prey Lanriel taunted the creature, told it he might live if he begged, but that he must be punished for bringing his foul presence into Celenian territory.

The orc laughed and replied in perfect, if gravelly, elven, “That sounds very fair elf boy, but tell me have you ever heard of the golden rule?”

“Silence you insolent beast! Do not defile our fair tongue with...”

“Do unto others elf,” the orc snarled gesturing dramatically and filling the world with fire. Lanriel's companions melted before his eyes. And by the time Lanriel turned back to his foe a finger was trained upon him and he found himself utterly incapable of movement. Laughing the orc stalked forward pulling a long stone knife from within its robes and slapping the blade against a meaty palm.

“You may live – if you beg. But you must be punished, for subjecting me to your foul presence. Have no fear I have ways of making a lesson permanent that even the greatest of god bothering sycophants will be unable to counter. I am going to break you, you arrogant pointy eared piece of excrement. Then he raised up the knife.

Lanriel was tortured for seven days. His limbs were broken and given time to heal, magic invaded his mind and he was forced to flay his own flesh while his tormentor slept, and dark magics sapped his strength as agony danced through his being. For all his pride he was begging within minutes, and desperately repeating the terrible things the orc made him say. Finally the orc bound him carefully and broke his limbs. Each twisted limb was lashed into place horribly twisted, and then the orc forced him to drink healing potion. Then the orc left him.

He was found hours after his release. After, and despite the attentions of the finest clerics and healers, the graceful youth was gone, in his place a gaunt grave figure with drawn sunken eyes. He could walk again, but each step was awkward, his legs no longer quite the same length. Old dreams of joining the Hippogriff cavalry and winning fame in battle dried and disintegrated. He had learned that no blade was proof against magic, and so set to learning the arcane arts with a feverish intensity.

He found himself taken by sudden rages, and often overcome by a self pity that stole away his purpose. He raged at his tutors in the arts, alienated his family, and terrified the servants. Then things came to a head when the brother of one of his old melted friends confronted him asking how his sibling died. Lanriel simply gestured and said,

“Like this! Scorchas!” sending a torrent of flame roiling forth from his fingertips.

After that and the calling in of a number of favours by his parents Lanriel was banished from Celene for a century. With no real idea where to go Lanriel obeyed his parents wishes and travelled to the distant mining community of Diamond Lake where his Uncle Ellival owned a silver mine.

In Diamond Lake Lanriel found he cared little for the pathetic semblance of Celene that his Uncle had constructed. Instead it was the bleak and savage town itself which appealed to the broken elf. He began to venture out more and more, spending a great deal of time first in Lazare's playing Dragon Chess, then making trips to the Feral Dog, and the Emporium. When Ellival displayed his anger over such antics Lanriel left his house and moved into Jalek's Jalek's.

Now the elven mage finds himself devoid of coin, purpose, and anything convenient to vent his spleen upon. Self pity will not pay for whores, lodging, or ink, and mining hardly appeals...