 About Valik RoffesonStatblock:
Valik Roffeson Male human (Ulfen) paladin 1 LG Medium humanoid (human) Init +0; Senses Perception +3 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 15, touch 10, flat-footed 15 (+4 armor, +1 shield) hp 12 (1d10+2) Fort +3 (+2 circumstance bonus vs. hot weather), Ref +0, Will +4 -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor) Melee handaxe +4 (1d6+3/×3) or . . scimitar +4 (1d6+3/18-20) Ranged sling +1 (1d4+3) Special Attacks smite evil 1/day (+2 attack and AC, +1 damage) Paladin Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st; concentration +3) . . At will—detect evil -------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 16, Dex 10, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 15 Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 14 Feats Cleave, Power Attack Traits finding haleen, inspired Skills Acrobatics -3 (-7 to jump), Craft (carpentry) +2, Knowledge (religion) +4, Linguistics +1, Perception +3, Sense Motive +6 Languages Common, Kelish, Skald Other Gear armored coat[APG], light steel shield, handaxe, scimitar, sling, sling bullets (20), backpack, flint and steel, hot weather outfit[APG], sunrod (3), tent, small, trail rations (8), waterskin (3), 16 gp, 1 sp, 2 cp -------------------- Special Abilities -------------------- Cleave If you hit a foe, attack an adjacent target at the same attack bonus but take -2 AC. Detect Evil (At will) (Sp) You can use detect evil at will (as the spell). Hot weather outfit +2 Fort vs. Hot Weather (does not stack with Survival skill's bonuses) Inspired (1/day) Roll twice and take the better result on a skill or ability check. Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage. Smite Evil (1/day) (Su) +2 to hit, +1 to damage, +2 deflection bonus to AC when used. -------------------- The Code of Sarenrae...as Valik understands it:
This is what results when a slightly unhinged priest in a flyspeck village educates a viking: “Tend the flame. Without fire the hearth is empty and the forge cannot temper iron.”
“Where darkness has rooted bring burning light. Not all need to be burned, most merely need to have light to guide their path.”
“Let the words of men be spoken in her light.”
“Her light rises anew each day. Do not let the darkness make you forget her dawn.”
The actual Code of Sarenrae:
"Be as a caring parent or sibling to all in need. Help heal the sick and lift the fallen. Be a guiding light into the darkest hearts and lands" 1. Heal those that ask for it regardless of if they can pay. 2. Mercy must be granted to those that ask for it or request asylum 3. Help those that can't help themselves. Tithe 15% (money earned only. Gear not counted) "Only respond to violence in kind with swift metal and scorching light"
"Each new day brings hope and renewed opportunity. One must not let darkness into your life"
"May the strength of the sun guide you through the fog of mortal words."
Description:
Description: 6 foot 2 inch, with long blonde hair, pulled back into a single thick braid, blue eyed. Muscled from the constant cutting and planning required of a carpenter. Wispy blonde beard that is just barely coming in. Personality:
Personality: Easy going. Accepting of life and its challenges. He sincerely looks to be an inspiration to those around him. Enjoys riddles, although he usually doesn’t solve them. Motivaton:
Motivation: To go where he can do the most good, and defend those who are unable to defend themselves. To repay his blood-debt to Haleen. Once he has done that he can return to Halgrim and face the thingmar that awaits him for the death of Ovik Redhand. Background:
His earliest memories were of wood. Not the sight of wood, but the smell and especially the sounds of creation at his father’s hands. The smooth scrape of a plane across a plank, the zuzz as the saw bit through a board, the clip-clip-clip as a design took shape from chisel and hammer. Those were the sounds that he would fall asleep to and often wake to in the mornings. The other memories were of the stories. The stories of his people, viking across the seas, trading, rading and fighting strange beasts in strange lands. They would often sit in the open workspace, hemmed in on all sides by the mighty fir trees, morning fog drifting through the boughs and obscuring the often feeble summer sun. As he cut and measured and showed Valik how to read the grain and feel the heart of the wood, he would talk about Torag. How the smith-god was often misunderstood as a mere god of the forge. Every act of planning for creation, every cut and every shaping was a prayer to Torag. He loved all new things, both humble and great. Vividly Valik could remember his father one summer day, hunched over, chiseling at a design on a chieftain-chair, the sun stabbing through the clouds and illuminating him like fire. His voice rumbled at Valik without turning around. “It isn’t the grandeur or size of the creation that matters, but the skill and spirit that go into its creation. A child’s toy can bring greater joy to Torag than the largest fortress, the sharpest blade or the mightiest boat. Intent and honesty form the heart of the prayer, the heart of creation.” Birgir, his father, turned around to look at him with his eyes like icy chips, “It is honesty that Torag wants. Because truth is the foundation of creation, nothing can be built on lies, and nothing build of lies will stand against time. Be honest in creation and in life, and you will be rewarded.” In his mind’s eye he could see his father turn back to the chair, blow chips and dust out of the design, and continue working. Ovik woke him with a sharp punch in the gut. Before Valik could cry out, a sea-callused hand clamped over his mouth. The ugly scarred face loomed close to his in the pre-dawn gloom. “Wyrmeye has spotted a bit of fun boy,” breath like sour fish washed over him. “We are going in for a vik, see? This be your blooding in the old ways, so don’t be shy now, you need to prove your manhood.” Ovik leered at him a moment, then pulled away into the gloom. Rage flared in the pit of Valik’s stomach. Prove my manhood! I am fourteen and a full member of this crew, nobody can question my manhood, he thought angrily. Now that he was awake he could hear the quiet preparation of the crew. Men were pulling on armor, checking weapon and shields and quietly muttering prayers. Others were like Ovik, muttering to themselves, working into a frothing battle-rage. Valik checked his axe and shield, briefly touched his mother’s amulet beneath his armor and looked over the gunwale at the silent village only a few thousand yards across a nearly still bay. The place was tiny, only ten or so fishermen’s huts on a sandy strand, no more than fifty people, easy prey for the crew of the Bladewake. Beyond the village the land sloped upward in sandy, barren hills towards an empty horizon. The crew was silent as death, hardly daring to breathe as the boat approached the sand, gliding forward on momentum only as her oars had been shipped minutes before. Amazingly to Valik, nobody stirred in the pre-dawn gloom. Finally, after an eternity of waiting, the boat crunched into the sand and the raiders boiled forth, screaming like maniacs, beards and braids streaming out behind them. Valik moved along with them like a leaf in a tornado, hardly aware of his own self in the storm he surged up the beach, screaming his throat horse, waving his axe wildly. A hut off on its own caught his blood-mad eye and he surged towards it, breath bellowing through his chest, feet kicking up sand as he barreled forward. When Pehr stepped out of the hut, rubbing his eyes and dragging a shapeless stuffed animal, Valik came to a halt, the world snapping back into focus. What is Pehr doing here? A second later he realized that is wasn’t his brother, just another little boy, and that he had been an instant away from cutting him down. This is madness! What was I thinking? What was I going to do? “I knew that you were not a man,” came the cold voice from behind him. Valik spun, but the backhand fist caught him across the face before he could react, spinning him to the sand. “I knew that I would have to clean up your messes…your father is weak, your brother is weak and you are weak.” The child had not moved nor screamed, and was seemingly petrified with fear as the nightmare strode towards him, axe raised above his head. Valik could see that Ovik was going to split the child in two like a cord of wood, and struggled to his feet, moving sluggishly in the sand. Valik lunged at Ovik as the axe whistled down, interposing himself before the child. There was a sudden clang as a dagger deflected off of Ovik’s axe, spinning it out of his hand mere inches from Valik’s scalp and flinging it into the darkness. Seeing an sudden opening Valik swung, just as the off balance Ovik turned to look for the axe, and the battle axe bit into Ovik’s arm, severing it, and continued into his ribcage. “You killed me,” Ovik said with a note of surprise in his voice. “You killed one of your own crewmates,” he continued angrily, bloody froth spitting from between clenched teeth, and pouring from the stump of his arm. Then, with his dying strength, and blood pouring from his wound, he hit Valik with the last of his strength on the side of his head, spinning him to the ground and into the darkness. ------------- “You are awake. That is good.” The voice was terse, and sounded like a woman. “He hit you hard enough that I was afraid that you might actually die. And as it took you a week before you awoke, I think that I was correct to assume the worst.”
Valik ignored this, his head spinning and the light painfully into his eyes. “I declare blood-oath for you Haleen. I will save your life and repay you, or die trying.” The woman let out an audible groan, ”Fine.” she nearly spat the word,”you have given me your oath. Now you cannot die on me. Tell me your name before you go back to sleep.” Valik could smell something sweet and spicy, and the smell was beginning to layer waves of lassitude over his mind like warm blankets. ”Valik Roffeson.” he nearly whispered as he fell back to sleep. ------------ A hard head and the energy of youth are powerful tonics, and Valik was no exception. The bleeding from his nose eventually stopped and soon he was able to move around the small house and begin to care for himself. Haleen, a middle aged woman of volcanic energy and temperament treated him like she was his aunt. As soon as his energy returned in a small degree, she had him working. Cleaning the house, preparing meals, mending fishing nets and small chores for the neighbors. After a week, the priest came. Valik was sitting outside in the shade of a lean-to, watching the waves roll in on the sand and letting his hands repair the fishing net for one of the villagers. ”The Lady said that you were ready. Its time for you to start rebuilding the shrine that your…previous companions…burned down. She said that you have the skills that your father passed to you, both in axe and wood.”, said the elderly halfling man. He was deep brown from the sun, but corded and wizended, like a piece of jerky. To say that Valik was startled by this pronouncement would have been an understatement. The net dropped from his hands to the sand. ”How do you know so much about me? Who is this Lady?” ”She is the lady of the sun, Sarenrae. She saw what you did in the darkness Valik. That you turned your back on your culture, your companions, and your people in one moment to stand for the light of good in the darkness. She saw you blaze. She wants me to teach you how to keep that flame alive in your heart and light it in others around you.”
”I will come and learn. I have duties to Haleen though.”
------------- Valik learned, and grew in the village of al-Mazreh. Birthdays past in that village on the edge of the sea and Valik was content with his learning until Haleen vanished.
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