Solquethar's page

• Courageous (Combat) - Your childhood was brutal, yet you persevered primarily through force of will and faith that no matter how hard things might get, as long as you kept a level head you’d make it through. You gain a +2 trait bonus on saving throws against fear effects.

• Forlorn (Elf Racial) - Having lived outside of traditional elf society for much or all of your life, you know the world can be cruel, dangerous, and unforgiving of the weak. You gain a +1 trait bonus on Fortitude saving throws.

• Brigand (Kingmaker) - You hail from the River Kingdoms or the more lawless reaches of Brevoy. Life has been hard for you. Perhaps your parents and siblings were crooks and con artists, or maybe your rough, lonely life lead you to fall in with thieves and worse. You know how to ambush travelers, bully traders, avoid the law, and camp where no one might find you. Recently, you’ve run into some trouble, either with the law or with other bandits, and you’re looking to get away to somewhere no one would ever think to look for you. An expedition into the rugged wilderness seems like a perfect way to lie low until the trouble blows over. You begin the campaign with an extra 100 gp in ill-gotten gains. You also gain a +1 trait bonus on Bluff, Diplomacy, Intimidate, and Sense Motive checks when dealing with brigands, thieves, bandits, and
their ilk.

Carried: Furs ( Clothing ), Healer's Kit, Holy Symbol of Erastil (silver), Marbles, Belt Pouch x2, Powder, Rope, Hemp (50ft), Scroll Case x3, Arrows x60, Waterskin (Filled), Signal Whistle
Not Carried: Basket x2, Bear Trap x2, Bedroll, Bell x4, String (100ft), Sack x2 Wooden Stake x5.
Remaining Funds: 61gp, 8 silver, 9 copper.

His hair is long, and crazed, a deep green that flows with every step, as if echoing his arrival. Brown and green stains were upon his face and limbs, painted up to blend in to a forest surrounding, most could interpret. His body is covered by furs, worn as clothing that covered the necessities. A necklace, and earrings of bone were worn as trophies, and the most striking feature would be his eyes - bold jades that stared out and consistently interpreted his surroundings.

Many moons ago, an Elven house moved into what is now known as the River Kingdoms. Its spread was not great, but it had many families about in a small, tight community. This community’s name is however, lost to history.

We are not here to speak of this community however, but one individual who was removed from it. Yes, one day amongst much confusion, an elven youth hopped aboard a caravan with nothing but a heart of joy of becoming his own man and seeking adventures like the tales he’d known in the books and tales he’d been given as a child. That was soon to be disrupted.

The caravan in question had been travelling along a road to a small establishment, known as Restov at that time, and was ambushed by a myriad of bandits. With much luck, and clasping but a single dagger he’d found off a corpse, the youth ran with haste into the nearby forest, where he could escape from the onslaught. The entire caravan was destroyed, and the resulting loss of their only son caused much misery back home – forcing the settlement to be relocated elsewhere, away from such distress.

This does not mark the end of this one, though – the youth took the name Solquethar, and made living conditions under force of survival. He had nothing but that dagger, and a forest of mysteries and nature around him, so was forced to make do for the many, many years to come. Here he would teach himself art with the bow, which his kind took so easily, and fashioned one out of oak, using a fallen branch and the weapon to carve. The string was drawn taut, and created from sinew, carefully done as he’d seen his father do – but that took many tries to perfect. This bow was important, and formed the backbone of his hunting.

For many years to come he hunted, and he hunted all that came into the forest – until he found a small group of priests, who worshipped the deity Erastil. He greeted them, though his feral looks startled them, and they gave worried expressions. After a bit of talk and barter, he managed to learn plenty, and took for himself a holy symbol of this deity. This, plus a small parchment of the things Erastil revered, was all he needed to continue his living.
Now he had faith – faith and a code to follow, a hunter’s code as he worked to survive in this jungle. It came to be known that ‘a bandit’ lived in the forest now, as he was called – people who merely entered to do cruel and torturous deeds near where he lived were treated as game, and hunted one by one until they ran out of the forests. This was how he lived, and how he managed to attain the few belongings he had. He even managed to garner bells, and string, to mark his territory against those who would hunt him.

Word came through on one group that passed by. As he moved to strike the last one down, he heard him only shout, “You’ll regret this! The Stag Lord will come! Jus’ you wait, pointy-ears!” Needless to say, he met his end – but his words did not fall on deaf ears. The hunter known as Solquethar was now intrigued, and began to patrol the borders of his forest, listening to rumors as people passed, camped near, and so on – and heard of the exploits of a group who sought to restore order to that land. That meant his hunt could continue as it was. No more people to interfere on his game. No more useless humans who could only disturb the peace.

That was an opportunity, and gathering all he could carry, he set out in cover of night, using all his skills to make his destination towards a trading post in search of such a rumor, keeping himself hidden from all and moving only at night so as to start a new hunt.