Larin Linwrick's page

Bloodline Arcana
Whenever you cast a spell with the electricity or sonic descriptor, increase the save DC by 1.

Thunderstaff
3+Cha mod/day can touch weapon as standard action to give it the shock property for rounds = 1/2 sorcerer level.
At 9th level can confer shocking burst instead for half duration.

Stormchild
Resist electricity 5 and resist sonic 5, and treat wind effects as being one step less severe.

Masterwork backpack increases effective Str by 1
Weight carried 19.25lbs
Light <=28.5 , Medium 29-57 , Heavy 58-86.25

Sorcerer 1
Skill points - Bluff, Knowledge (arcana), Knowledge (local), Spellcraft
Favoured Class Bonus - HP
Feat - Combat Casting
Traits - Civilized (+1 Knowledge [nobility] and Knowledge [local], Knowledge [local] is class skill), Intrepid Volunteer (use Dex bonus instead of Str for Swim checks), Rostlander (+1 Fort)

Sorcerer 2
HP (4+2) +1 (FC) +2 (Con)
Skill points - Bluff, Knowledge (arcana), Knowledge (local), Spellcraft
Favoured Class Bonus - HP
BAB +1
Fort +0, Ref +0, Will +3
Spells per day - +1 1st level
Spells known - +1 0th level

Sorcerer 3
HP (1+2) +1 (FC) +2 (Con)
Skill points - Bluff, Knowledge (arcana), Knowledge (local), Spellcraft
Favoured Class Bonus - HP
BAB +1
Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +3
Spells per day - +1 1st level
Spells known - +1 0th level
Bloodline spell - shocking grasp

Larin is fairly wild looking for a halfling. The magic that flows through him comes from a wild place, manifesting itself in his shock of unruly brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. A faint aroma of ozone and summer rain seems to follow him around, and not infrequently sparks of corposant flicker through his eyes and fingertips. His long canvas duster seems to billow around his legs as if caught in a breeze, and the haft of the morningstar hanging at his side is a blackened and twisted length of lightning-struck oak.

Like the lightning that flows through him, Larin can tend towards unpredictability and flightiness. His good humour shines through in everything he does, though his hastiness has been known to land him in hot water from time to time.

Born to an itinerant clan of peddlers and labourers, Larin's early life was hard but happy. Travelling the rolling plains of Rostland and the northern River Kingdoms in a train of wagons and ponies, Larin's extended family made their way through whatever opportunities for work they could find - a few months as loggers, a few months selling clothes and furs, or a couple of weeks off just enjoying the natural world and the bounties offered to them by Gozreh.

Larin was always a scrawny child and was never called upon to help with the family's more physical jobs. He helped his mother with the family's accounts, looked after his younger siblings and cousins, or studied the strange mystical texts carefully guarded by his grandmother, the group's wise-woman and healer. As he grew into a young man Larin's quick tongue and lack of forethought often got him into trouble with the clan's elders and he frequently found himself confined to the wagons while the other youngsters were out enjoying the sun or swimming in the lake.

Seemingly destined for a life of book-keeping and wagon-tending Larin's fate was changed one evening a little under a year ago. The caravan had stopped by a large lake, the water cold despite the summer sun, when thunderclouds gathered overhead. Slow to heed his family's warnings, Larin was the last halfling out in the open when huge raindrops began to pummel his head and lightning started flashing in the dark sky. Taking shelter under an isolated tree within slingshot of the nearest wagon he paused briefly to catch his breath when a fork of lightning cracked down from the sky. It shot through the boughs of the tree, scorching the wood to black, and grounded through Larin's wet body. He was thrown fifty feet through the air and came down on the wet grass, his clothing charred and smoking.

As his extended family rushed out to help him they feared the worst, but as the sky cleared and the rain stopped Larin sat up, his hair standing on end and his mostly naked form somewhat twitchy. He looked over to the tree where he saw swirling runes had been burned into the trunk, a blue cracking light slowly fading from them as the energy within ebbed away. Taken inside to rest and recover, Larin spent the next week sleeping and dreaming of a lightning-forked sky and a howling storm.

As the days and weeks passed, Larin discovered that he could channel and control elements of the storm. He could whisper messages through the wind, use a gust or breeze to grasp books from a few feet away, or scare off overly aggressive badgers with a spark of electricity. But as his powers grew, so did suspicion in some corners of the caravan. Whispers of curses laid by Gozreh and of dangerous uncontrolled lightning soon passed around the families, and Larin found himself increasingly isolated from some of his friends and relatives. To spare his family the shame and embarrassment of the stares and mutterings, Larin decided to sign up with an expedition to explore and reclaim the Stolen Lands to the south of his homeland. He hoped with time and experience that he would be better able to control his powers, and that he would eventually be able to show his people that he wasn't a thing to be feared or shunned.