About Miloslav NeveSuli barbarian (invulnerable rager) 1
Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +0
--------------------
Melee falchion +4 (2d4+9/18-20) [dice=Attack]1d20+4;2d4+9[/dice] Ranged sling +3 (1d4+4) Special Attacks rage (6 rounds/day)
Traits Bastard, Defensive Strategist Feats Power Attack Skills Diplomacy +1, Handle Animal +3, Perception +3, Sense Motive +1, Survival +3, Swim +3; Racial Modifiers +2 Diplomacy, +2 Sense Motive Languages Common, Ignan, Kelish SQ elemental assault, fast movement Other Gear four-mirror, falchion, sling, sling bullets (20), backpack, belt pouch, blanket, flint and steel, soap, trail rations (5), waterskin, 50 gp, 17 sp --------------------
========================================================================= Raging Stats
Fort +6, Ref +2, Will +2
Melee falchion +6 (2d4+12/18-20) [dice=Attack]1d20+6;2d4+12[/dice] Ranged sling +3 (1d4+6) Special Attacks rage (6 rounds/day)
Feats Power Attack Skills Diplomacy +1, Handle Animal +3, Perception +3, Sense Motive +1, Survival +3, Swim +5; Racial Modifiers +2 Diplomacy, +2 Sense Motive ========================================================================= Description
Background
Miloslav was the fruit of their union. He grew up in the shadow of his father’s nobility. House Surtova were giants in Port Ice, and Miloslav was reminded of his true heritage at every turn. Milo is a suli, a gift from his mother’s bloodline, but he doesn’t know of his heritage. “During their youth, Suli tend to be slightly smaller than their fully human peers, but grow quickly to their full adult height upon reaching their teenage years. Despite their smaller size, they are prone to feats of greater strength than their fellows” (Qadira, Gateway to the East, p. 31). Such was the case with Miloslav as well. He lived with his mother, and due to her work, was constantly associating with the nobility, albeit at a distance. He was a small boy, and was constantly mocked both for his size and his bastardry. Milo’s pride and elemental heritage would not let him back down from such insults, so he fought frequently. Just as frequent as his fights were the punishments that followed them. He often trounced the youthful cream of Port Ice’s nobility, and met with whippings and beatings as a result. Growing up in this way filled Miloslav with a deep and permanent smoldering rage in his soul. It made him determined to one day prove himself as worthy of nobility. Not because of his father’s blood, but because he is better than them - better than all of them. When Milo turned thirteen he hit his first real growth spurt. Within a couple of years he was taller than most of the other boys, and thickly layered with muscle. His mother was wealthy enough to provide him an education, and based on how frequently he got into trouble she agreed with his wish to train as a warrior. Lorinda sent word home to Qadira, to her family there. Her family runs a large merchant house in service to the Padishah Emperor, and were akin to nobles in their own way. They sent north a trusted slave, Hakkim Al’Qarsat, who was a master in the arts martial. Lorinda hoped that some training would reign in her wild son, and make him more controllable. She was wrong. Miloslav took to the blade as a fish to water. Not the thin dueling swords that were popular in Port Ice, but a heavy curved blade from his mother’s homeland. The long, two-handed sword allowed him to fully utilize his great strength, and soon he was a terror with a falchion. That is when the dueling began. Miloslav began to frequent the cafes and salons around the fencing schools, where swaggering young nobles waved their swords about and drunken duels over perceived insults were common. His strategy was the same every time, let their own hatred undue them. He need only sit at the bar drinking calmly until someone recognized him, or made a comment about the color of his skin. An acerbically worded response was often enough to goad the drunken nobles into challenging him to a duel. Outside in the street he would follow the proper dueling form and etiquette, but once the match began he drew on his rage to fight with the fury of a savage animal. None of the other young men could stand against him, and he cut down half a dozen over the course of a couple months. As his reputation grew, so did the general hatred of him amongst the nobility. This did nothing to stop him, and technically what he was doing wasn't illegal, so no one else could stop him either. He began to attract more serious challengers, ones who tested his skills to their limits. His next couple of duels were close calls, ending with Miloslav badly wounded. Finally he met his match - his half brother, Nicola Surtova. Their duel took place on a rainy night. Milo knew he was in trouble, but was too proud to back down. He had grown up watching Nicola from the shadows, heart filled with jealousy over his half brother’s privileged life. Nicola had been trained by master Sworldlords since he was old enough to hold a blade, and though not as large as Miloslav, was much more skilled. The two men paced off on the cobblestones and turned to face one another, making the formal bows required before a duel. A crowd of nobles and peasants alike stood in a ring around them, all there to watch the fight. Silence settled over the crowd as the two duelists tensed. Everyone held their breath as they waited to see who would act first. Then, BAM, as quick as lightning Nicola sprang across the length of street separating him from Miloslav. His dueling sword flashed in the light of the torches as it wove and thrust a furious assault against the suli. Milo barely managed to fend off the blows with his falchion, before roaring and attacking back with a flurry of heavy two-handed blows that forced Nicola back across the street. Nicola danced under Milo’s last slash, and thrust his blade quickly into the opening it provided, putting an inch of steel into Milo’s gut. Milo cried out in pain as blood began gushing from the wound, and something inside him broke. A flood of anger surged through him, and as it did so his arms burst into flames, which quickly spread up the length of his sword. Milo’s eyes flashed with elemental fury as he counterattacked Nicola with his now burning weapon. Nicola was so surprised that he dropped his own sword and stumbled backward, barely dodging the flaming monster suddenly before him. Immediately the crowd broke into jeers and hisses and several of them ran forward and tackled Milo as the flames wreathing his arms flickered out. Cries of ”Cheater!” filled the air, and Miloslav was quickly arrested. Normally the punishment for cheating during a duel is death. However, in the only bit of fatherly love or attention that Domani Surtova ever showed Miloslav, he commuted his bastard son's sentence. Instead, he sentenced Miloslav to exile from Port Ice. If he ever returned to the city, it would be on pain of his own death. With only what he could carry on his back, Miloslav went south into Rostland. He was confused over what had happened during the duel, but glad to be alive, and still determined to prove himself a noble. He heard of the call for explorers put out by the Swordlords of Restov and decided it was his best chance. He signed up, and headed off into the wilderness alone. As he should have learned by now, pride comes before the fall, and Miloslav didn’t do so well on his own. The first several weeks were fine, but then one night while sleeping he was captured by bandits. They were going to kill him, but he managed to stop them by claiming he was the son of Domani Surtova, and being convincing enough that they believed him. He has been held prisoner by the bandits ever since, on the slim hope that they can glean some kind of ransom for his return to Port Ice. Miloslav knows that as soon as they find out the truth, he is dead, and has been seeking a method of escape ever since. |
|
