Shadrick's page

About Shadrick

Shadrick the Skald
Elven Skald, level 1
N
Init: +5
Senses: Perception +5


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DEFENSE
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Leather Lamellar Armor (+4), +3 dex
 AC 17, touch 13, flat-footed 14
hp 11

 Fort +3, Ref +3, Will +3 (immune to fear, +2 vs fear)
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OFFENSE

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Spd 30 ft.
Melee: Throwing axe +1 1d6+2, x2 crit, +3 to hit
Ranged: Throwing axe +1, 1d6+2, x2, +3 to hit
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STATISTICS
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Str 14 (+2), Dex 16 (+3), Con 12 (+1), Int 10 (+0), Wis 12 (+1), Cha 14 (+2)

Base Atk +0; CMB +2; CMD 15

Feats: Two weapon fighting

Traits: reactionary (+2 to initiative), maestro of the society (3 additional rounds of bardic performance)
Skills: bluff +6, diplomacy +6, perception +5, perform (singing) +6

Languages: Common, Elven

SQ: Low light vision, immune to sleep spells, +2 vs enchantment, raging song 8 rounds/day, +2 to overcome spell resistance

Combat Gear: 4 throwing axes, 5 days of trail rations, bandolier, 3 days of trail rations, hemp rope, grappling hook, lute 4gp

Spells: Cantrips-Read magic, light, detect magic, ghost sound
1st Level-Silent image (DC 13 if interacted with), cure light wounds

Appearance: There is a certain glint in some people's eyes that hints at an ornery nature. That seems to be doubly present in the blue pools of Shadrick's eyes. However, at times, there seems to be an inexplicable calm and observant glint that overtakes those same eyes. Shadrick's wavy blonde hair hangs to his shoulders and shows signs of being trimmed somewhat sporadically. For an elf, Shadrick has decently broad shoulders bespeaking the plausible conclusion that he can handle himself in a fight. However, it is the confident posture that really sends this message.
His attire features a strange mismatched hodgepodge of armor gathered in his travels.

Personality: Shadrick is a fun-loving sort who will look for chances in any town he visits to share his outrageous songs, start a fight or two, find a nice bed, and a sweet girl to keep it warm.
In truth, Shadrick is a balance of the natures of Elivain (caring, cautious, and polite) and Shadrick (boisterous, attention seeking, and over-confident). In an adventuring party, he is more than happy to be the party face (which is sometimes less effective as he's as likely to charm a damsel as fight a tavern patron), he's excellent at buffing his party mates and providing melee support, and he'll never leave an ally behind.

Backstory: A young forest-dwelling elf named Elivain had an issue: he hated the forest. While the youngster didn't mind his family or fellow elves, he simply wished for more. Often in his youth, he would sneak off to a nearby village. I this village, he adopted the false name "Shadrick" so no one would report having encountered Elivain in town. He grew up living this duality: wanting the urban life, but always having a voice at the back of his head calling him back to the ways of the forest.
Once in town, he would always enjoy the sights and sounds and the bustle of the people, but he would find himself in the local tavern. It was a place where one could find a brew, a brawl, and a bard. Young Elivain, or Shadrick as he would be known, always hung on every note of every song and would be enthralled by them.
One night, as he was enjoying time in the tavern, one of the drunken patrons started accusing the bard who had wandered in to perform for the night of serenading his girl.
This led to violence.
Not our fight, came a voice in the back of Shadrick's head.
Eh, it looks like open invitation to me, Shadrick replied even as he grabbed a piece of firewood and swung it like an axe down on the head of the assailant.
Before the shocked crowd had really sorted out how to respond to this, Shadrick turned to the bard and quipped, "Can you play, 'Which Brew Ales You?'"
Ignoring the bard's response of, "That's not a real song..." Shadrick launched into singing:

Well you know it's untrue
It's a brew that fails ya
Which kinda brew is the brew
That ales ya
Rather drink
Than to think
Why I sink
Or sail yes
Which kinda brew is the brew
that ales us

The crowd loved it.
That seems like enough adventure for one night, came the voice in the back of his head, Let's head back home.
"Sod off, Elivain," Shadrick replied, "I'm thinking home is where we make it." And off they went, despite Elivain's protests.
Over the years, Elivain's presence remained as an exasperated moral compass which Shadrick generally ignored. After innumerable taverns, songs, adventures, and girls, Shadrick found himself in an adventuring band which included a lich.
You know he's pure evil, right?
Eh, he bought the first round. He's not bad.
Maybe not, but those suspicious and superstitious villagers are certainly eying him will ill intent.
Fair point, Shadrick replied, looking away from his brew and the serving wench for the first time. Looks like I'll have to do something drastic, and he leapt to his feet calling out, "By this point you have no doubt noticed my much-maligned friend here. Well, he happens to suffer from a condition called the wasting curse. Oh, the horrid stories I could tell of this horrendous condition...but instead, I'll sing it!" and he launched into a rowdy, foot-stomping chorus:

Oh the wasting curse
It's the curse that's the worst
It's the first curse cursed
It's the wasting curse
No matter how well versed
Better call the hearse
If you're first curse cursed
With the wasting curse

The crowd cheered, more drinks were poured, toasts were raised to the poor cursed fellow, and Shadrick found himself invited to the serving wench's room.
As the party continued on, Elivain's suspicions of the lich kept growing. And party members kept disappearing. Eventually, as they arrived where their treasure map led them, the party consisted merely of Shadrick, the party's fighter, and the lich.
"You'd best guard the exit while we head in to collect the artifact," the lich said.
"Sounds good," Shadrick said with a smile and began humming happily to himself.
I don't trust him. We should follow him and see what he's really up to.
Of course we should. I just didn't want him to know that we didn't trust him.
Creeping along behind the lich and fighter, they beheld a terrible scene. The map had led them to a hideous-looking summoning circle.
"What is this place?" the fighter mused, looking around even as the lich extended his hands with a sneer and the fighter dropped to the ground. The lich then began rhythmically chanting while pulling a ceremonial knife out of his robes and moving towards the fighter. Smoke and the scent of brimstone began pouring forth from the circle and the lich raised his hands with the knife...and toppled backwards with a throwing axe lodge between his shoulder blades.
"Not good," Shadrick was saying. "But I'm sure there's a good song in this somewhere." As he was speaking, he was moving forward to the fighter.
Turn around
Looking back towards the circle, Shadrick saw that the smoke was trying to coalesce into a terrifying form.
"Demon?"
From some of those ridiculous songs you've sung, this is what I'd imagine they look like.
"Lord Vholzfheng!" the lich called out in an ecstatic voice.
Shadrick bounded towards the lich with greater strength than he thought he had possessed and decapitated the undead fiend with a swing of his axe.
See? When you let me help, things go better.
"Eh, I think I could've taken him."
The fighter began screaming in sheer terror.
"Hmm, don't think he'll be much help," mused the skald,
The name. Use the name to banish the beast. It's what happens in those silly songs you sing.
"Eh, we can give it a shot. What was his name again?"
Lord Vholzfheng
Using the demon's name, Shadrick was able to banish the beast. The fighter was too shaken to continue on. Shadrick dropped him off at a local church and gave them some gold pieces to help care for his fallen comrade.
I don't suppose you've had enough adventure now and want to head back to the woods?
"No, let's go find more adventure. Hey, they have a great stage in Sandpoint. Let's see what adventues we can find there!"