Octavia 'Tavi' Delphina's page

“First of all, drop that ‘honor’ nonsense that you hear in the bardic songs. Fighting is about violence and killing, hopefully killing the other guy before he kills you. Especially in a close fight, those are the most personal form of death one can deal. Looking into a man’s eye and watching the life fade, while his life-blood pumps over your hand. Now girl, I know you’ve been in scrapes and maybe even killed a man or two, that counts for naught right now,” with that he opened the chest against the wall and pulled out what looked like a bundle of sticks.

“Let’s see how good you are toe-to-toe shall we,” he smirked and tossed two my way. I snatched them out of the air and am amazed at their weight. The purpose seems obvious now, these are practice ‘swords’ meant to teach without wounding. While still getting my grip settled I close the distance in a matter of moments. I double thrust low, one blade at waist height and the other at chest height, and get close enough that there is no way he can parry with his own blades. Then he simply isn’t there. One moment I have him and the next I’m on my face with the taste of blood in my mouth and a new bruise on my hip. I look back to see him casually standing there, grinning down at me.

“Nice move. Cleverly done, and with good speed. However you telegraph to anyone watching. You flick your eyes toward the target and you balance is horrible when lunging. Again.” I lift myself off the ground with just my arms, while I kick out with both feet, attempting to tangle my new Master, but he easily steps out of it and lands clean blow into my open abdomen, stealing all my breath.

“Again.”

I gather myself and get up. This time I take my time and we circle each other waiting, I see nothing, no opening, no hole in his footwork, nothing. With a gamble I toss one blade at him and rush in with the other. Quick as lightning he catches my blade upon his own, spins in a full circle, and tosses it back at me. It’s all I can do to raise my arm to protect my eyes and my own blade smashes into my nose. Blood fountains out as I fall back.

“Again, nicely tried but never willingly give up a weapon without first knowing that you can win without it,” he tosses me a cloth from his pocket. I vainly try to stem the flow of blood. He shakes his head, and kneels in front of me. He touches my nose and closes his eyes. There is a flash of pain and then nothing. He stands up and wipes a trickle of blood from his own nose. I gently reach up and touch mine, it’s almost fully healed, no blood, no pain. I look up in amazement. He looks down at his own blood upon his hand. Finally meeting my eye he nods.

“The way of the blade is not the only thing I will teach you, girl.” With that he assumes a ready stance and beckons me forward. A dozen more times I come at him, each time knocked, flipped, or slammed back with no gain and only a new bruise to show for my effort. Finally I toss my sticks down.

“This is pointless. There is no way I can stand up to you in an even fight!” I exclaim. He smiles at me with genuine mirth in his eyes.

“Thus you have learned the first lesson. Unless forced by circumstance, never fight fair. Now, pick up your blades and never drop them again unless death steals the strength from your limbs.” The tone in which that statement was leveled gave no doubt that this man had, and would again, kill anyone who got in his path.

The summer faded into bruise filled days, and mentally taxing nights. My days were filled with bouts and lessons, seemingly endless lessons. At first they were short, a few furious seconds. Gradually they become longer and longer. Weapons changed, from practice swords, to real. From Short blades to long swords, two-handers, maces, hammers, picks, axes both large and small, bows, hand to hand. Each had its own set of lessons for fighting with, and mostly, against. Soon the lean gutter-rat was gone and a lean alley cat stood in her place. More troubling than the days though, were the nights. Questions, always there were questions. Some seemed pointless at first. About my past, my parents, the streets. I’ve always had a quick mind but soon it was a weapon I could wield as easily as any sword. While my Master would, at times, go easy on my body, he held no such qualms upon my mind.

"The thief who cannot learn is one who cannot win” was a common phrase. I had always has a sense of coming danger, a sixth-sense as it were, during those night we turned it from sporadic guess work into something I could use. The more my mind grew the more I knew it wasn’t just luck or some divine favor, but something inside me that I could control. One night, while working on my budding powers my Master stopped me and forced me to look into his eyes.

“Remember this night, and these words. Never tell of your training. Never reveal your powers to anyone. There are those out there that fear and revile our ways. Some are jealous, some do not understand. A wizard may work for decades to achieve what you have in a single summer. Should your power be discovered, play it off as magic, something arcane, or as some tool about you. No one must learn of us here, all I promise they will come. Do you understand me girl?” I thought on what he had said, of all that he had taught and shown me and made a vow to myself. Should anyone come for him, they would have to go through me to get there. I nodded to my Master, both within and from with-out.

Four years passed like a golden summer. Then came new lessons such as disappearing in a crowd, and watching those who were supposed to be watching me. Then came the work, I learned more about thieving than I thought there was to know. In a city this size there was no end to the jobs we could pull, from bedlam in High Town, to shilling at the Docks. At the start I would just shadow or look out, but soon enough he was the one watching me, covering my back. Eventually I was taking jobs on my own name, and at time competing against my Master for the prize. For three months I spent wallowing away in the Pit, my punishment for failing to detect a guard before he detected me. That time taught me all I needed to know about the wrong end of my trade and the most important lesson of all, never get caught. Memories of that time still to this day keep me awake at night.

One moonless night, while gearing up for a job in High Town, I heard my Master call me, both with my ears and my mind. I turned, still half-dressed from long ago had there ceased to be any barriers between us. Never would we lie as lovers, but nor would I hide from him. In he walked, carrying the blackwood chest from his bed. Never in all my years with him had he opened it, although at times I could feel him thinking about it, running his hand across its smooth, featureless lid. Tonight would be different I gathered, tonight everything would change.

“Tonight you become Someone. Kneel,” he said. By the way he said Someone I knew it was important. I knelt in front of him, breath caught in my chest.

“I am Alonso Delphina, former Raven Master of the Nightwings. From this night forward you are my Talon. Gone is the girl, tonight to kneel as Octavia n’Delphina, the Raven’s Talon. Do you swear to hold true to the teachings of Ga’Ight as I have taught them?”

“I so swear.”

“Do you swear to answer the Call of Aid when summoned, to leave no mark of your passing and to always keep to the Ways?”

“I do so swear.”

“Finally, do you swear to let no one, be it man or woman, elf or dwarf, willingly into your mind, to betray our secrets and our lives?”

“I do so swear.”

“Then rise, Tavi, my Talon. Rise and receive your Mark and your Heraldry,” with that I rise and meet his eyes. Alonso, my Master for five years not knowing his name or purpose. From his side he lifts a dark ring-like object.

“This is a Mark of Ruling, granted only to those of Talon rank. There are only four others in existence, but be wary should you meet one as they will surely try to kill you. For only with a Mark of the Talon from a fallen foe can one challenge for the Rite of Master. These,” he gestures and the trunk at his feet opens to reveal a set of leathers. Black as nights, stitched with red so deep it too is nearly black. Upon the left sleeve is a silvery blue stitching of a raven in full flight. Donning them is the high point of my life, and the greatest honor I have ever attained. Below is a scabbard, also in black, also with a raven in flight stitched in slivery blue across it.

“The sword belonging to that scabbard was lost to me long ago when I left the Nightwings. It was my Mark of Raven, and was taken when I left. I give you these now, as our time has come to an end. Tonight marks the twenty-seventh year since I left, and my time has come to return. I am proud to have you call me Master, young Tavi. Never again will I train another, for never again will I meet a soul so mirroring my own. Please, do not seek me out. If you must learn more, seek out Ga’vet. As one last favor to me, please do not leave this house tonight. Meditate upon what you have learned and reflect on all that has passed. I assure you this is not our final passing, but for now it must be a parting. Fare well, May your eyes find easy prey and your wings always find the breeze.” With that, and a sad smile, Alonso bows and exits my tiny room, then our tiny house, and my life is all the more empty.

I know there are a couple things in my back story that are not typical so I will attempt to address them here. The Nightwings are guild from my home game. They are a small, ancient, old-blood guild of assassins. I make mention of a power I am developing, this is a throw to psionics, as we used them in my game. Most PbP games do not allow psionics so this can be ignored if disallowed.

Tavi
Female Halfling Rogue (Knife Master) 1 | [Lawful Neutral]

Hit Points
HP 14

Strength
12 (+1)
Dexterity
16 (+3)
Constitution
12 (+1)
Intelligence
13 (+1)
Wisdom
14 (+2)
Charisma
12 (+1)

Initiative +3 = 3 [Dex]

Skills

SKILL Total + Ability Mod. + Ranks + Misc.
Acrobatics* +5 = DEX 3+0+0+2 [halfling]
Appraise +5 = INT 1+2+3
Bluff +1 = CHA 1+0+0
Climb* +3 = STR 1+0+0+2 [halfling]
Craft +1 = INT 1+0+0
Craft +1 = INT 1+0+0
Craft +1 = INT 1+0+0
Diplomacy +1 = CHA 1+0+0
Disable Device*† +7 = DEX 3+2+3
Disguise +5 = CHA 1+2+3
Escape Artist* +3 = DEX 3+0+0
Fly* +3 = DEX 3+0+0
Handle Animal† +1 = CHA 1+0+0
Heal +2 = WIS 2+0+0
Intimidate +1 = CHA 1+0+0
K (Arcana)† +1 = INT 1+0+0
K (Dungeoneering)† +5 = INT 1+2+3
K (Engineering)† +1 = INT 1+0+0
K (Geography)† +1 = INT 1+0+0
K (History)† +1 = INT 1+0+0
K (Local)† +5 = INT 1+2+3
K (Nature)† +1 = INT 1+0+0
K (Nobility)† +1 = INT 1+0+0
K (Planes)† +1 = INT 1+0+0
K (Religion)† +1 = INT 1+0+0
Linguistics† +1 = INT 1+0+0
Perception +8 = WIS 2+2+3+2 [halfling]
Perform (Dance) +5 = CHA 1+2+3
Perform +1 = CHA 1+0+0
Profession† +2 = WIS 2+0+0
Profession† +2 = WIS 2+0+0
Ride +3 = DEX 3+0+0
Sense Motive +6 = WIS 2+1+3
Sleight of Hand*† +7 = DEX 3+2+3
Spellcraft† +1 = INT 1+0+0
Stealth* +11 = DEX 3+2+3+4 [Small]
Survival +2 = WIS 2+0+0
Swim* +1 = STR 1+0+0
Use Magic Device† +1 = CHA 1+0+0

* Armor Check Penalty -2

Equipment
Bands of Ruling, Talon.
'Dress' Leathers, mw, black with blue/silver stitching.
Dagger x5
Comp Short Bow (+1)
Chain shirt

Base Speed [ 20 (4 sq.) ]

AC [18] = 10 + 4 [Chain Shirt] +3 [Dex] +1 [Small Size]
Touch AC [14] Flat-Footed [15]

Base Attack Bonus +1
Basic Melee Attack +5
Basic Ranged Attack +5

Fortitude Save +2 = 0 [base] +1 [Con] + 1 [Halfling Luck]
Reflex Save +7 = 2 [base] +3 [Dex] + 1 [Halfling Luck]
Will Save +3 = 0 [base] +2 [Wis] + 1 [Halfling Luck]

CMB +1 = 1 [BAB] +1 [Str] -1 [size]
CMD +14 = 1 [BAB] +1 [Str] +3 [Dex] -1 [size] + 10

Feats
Weapon Finesse

Rogue Talents
Evasion
Minor Magical Trick - Acid Splash 3/day

Traits

Fencer: You trained with blades for long hours as a youth, either taking lessons in the genteel art of fencing from tutors paid for by your parents or by being taken under the wing of a disenfranchised fencer who may have turned to a life of crime. You gain a +1 trait bonus on attacks of opportunity made with daggers, swords, and similar bladed weapons.

Shadow Child: Westcrown has long suffered under a
peculiar curse, a blight that rises every night, bringing with
it fell beasts that hunt the shadows. No one can say from
whence these night-horrors come—though some blame
the mysterious wizards of Nidal, other claim that it’s some
curse laid by fallen Aroden, while still others suggest some
shadowy mastermind manipulates an ebon brood from
the depths of Westcrown’s northern ruins. Whatever the
case, the people of Westcrown have long feared the night,
but not you. You’re goal is to reclaim the darkness from
the beasts that hide within. You’ve acclimated yourself to
the dark, and thus act with greater precision in the shadow
than most. When attacking targets in areas of dim light,
you do not suffer the standard 20% miss chance on attack
rolls for being in the poorly lit area.

Carrying Capacity
Light Load: 32lbs.
Medium Load: 65lbs.
Heavy Load: 98lbs.
Lift Over Head: 98lbs.
Lift Off Ground: 195lbs.
Push or Drag: 488lbs.
Languages: Common, Halfling, Elven.
1 Bonus Language (Int)

Special Abilities
Halfling
Fearless: +2 to saves vs. fear (stacks with Halfling Luck)
Halfling Luck: +1 to all saving throws
Keen Senses: +2 Perception
Sure-footed: +2 Acrobatics, +2 Climb
Weapon Familiarity: slings. Any weapon with 'halfling' in its name is treated as a martial weapon.
Bonus Languages: Dwarven, Elven, Gnome, Goblin

Rogue
Sneak Attack +1d8 +1d8 per 2/levels

Experience Points 0

1- Always wait for someone bigger to charge in first. Hold/Hide till they do.
2- Stealth around to flank Primary Target. Mage -> Archers -> Other Casters - > Everyone else.
3- If not stealth then always (if able) attack from flanking.
4- If out of reach take cover/hide.
5- If Hp drops hp below 1/4, withdraw and hide till healed.

Loot found: