About ValsavisValsavis
Traits:
Bully You gain a +1 trait bonus on Intimidate checks, and Intimidate is always a class skill for you.
Reactionary You gain a +2 trait bonus on initiative checks. Feats:
Dazzling Display (bard’s friend) While wielding the weapon in which you have Weapon Focus, you can perform a bewildering show of prowess as a full-round action. Make an Intimidate check to demoralize all foes within 30 feet who can see your display.
Fearsome Finish Upon reducing an enemy to 0 or fewer hit points, for the remaining duration of the combat encounter, you gain a +4 bonus on any Intimidate checks made to demoralize opponents who can see both you and the opponent you dropped. Intimidating Prowess Add your Strength modifier to Intimidate skill checks in addition to your Charisma modifier. Killing Flourish When you reduce your target to below 0 hit points with a melee attack, as a swift action you can attempt an Intimidate check to demoralize all foes within 30 feet who can see your attack. Two-weapon Fighting Your penalties on attack rolls for fighting with two weapons are reduced. The penalty for your primary hand lessens by 2 and the one for your off hand lessens by 6. Weapon Focus (bard’s friend) You gain a +1 bonus on all attack rolls you make using the selected weapon. Wild Talent Your latent power of psionics flares to life, conferring upon you the designation of a psionic character. As a psionic character, you gain a reserve of 2 power points and can take psionic feats, metapsionic feats, and psionic item creation feats. You do not, however, gain the ability to manifest powers simply by virtue of having this feat. Skills:
Acrobatics +7
Climb +6 Disable Device +9 Escape Artist +6 Heal +2 Intimidate +14 Knowledge (geography) +4 Linguistics +1 Perception +10 Sense Motive +9 Stealth +7 Survival +8 (+10 to avoid becoming lost when using compass) Swim +2 Psionics:
Power Points 2/2
A manifester may manifest any talent that he knows without paying power points as long as he maintains psionic focus. Empathy
MANIFESTING
EFFECT
DESCRIPTION
Augment You can augment this power in one or both of the following ways. For every additional power point you spend, this power’s range and the radius of its area increases by 5 feet.
Vigor
MANIFESTING
EFFECT
DESCRIPTION
Augment For every additional power point you spend, the number of temporary hit points you gain increases by 5. Metamorphosis, Minor
MANIFESTING
EFFECT
DESCRIPTION
If you choose to imitate an existing person, you gain an additional +2 circumstance bonus to Disguise checks to convince people that you are that person. If you choose to take on an intimidating, horrifying, or otherwise imposing form, you gain a +2 circumstance bonus to Intimidate checks. In addition, you get one choice from either the Enhancement Menu A or Abilities Menu A. Enhancement Menu A +2 enhancement bonus to Strength
You gain 5 temporary hit points.
Gear:
Equipped mwk ironwood breastplate, mwk obsidian bard’s friend, obsidian bard’s friend, mwk composite longbow (str +3), amulet of natural armor +1, belt of giant strength +2, cloak of resistance +1, ring of protection +1 Masterwork backpack bedroll, bone mess kit, torch (10), trail rations (5), waterskin Belt pouch chalk (5), compass, masterwork thieves' tools, 319 gp, 17 sp, 9 cp Background:
Valsavis and his family had never experienced freedom. They were born into a life of servitude and they would live and die as slaves. They were performers, working the streets in Tyr’s Caravan District, always vying for a prized spot along the main thoroughfare, Caravan Way. Sometimes they were lucky and could eat that day, other days they were reduced to begging for scraps. Shrasa always had a knack for coming up with what she called “free handouts” and Val didn’t ask any questions, he was just happy to eat. Fortunately for them, that would all change one fateful day in the dead of High Sun. “We’ve got to get out. Pack your things!” His father Travian stormed into their hovel, breathless and as white as the sands. “Niks dead and this is our only chance. We go, now!” Grabbing up what few items they could carry, they fled into the night.
Much later he would come to find that his father had discovered their owner, Nikolos of House Shom, lying in a pool of his own blood, his throat sliced open. The emblem of their house, three white dragonflies, was pinned to his chest with the obsidian blade that killed him. Although Valsavis doesn’t know this, Travian was the killer, the blade embedded in the nobles chest is the twin to the bard’s friend Valsavis finds among his father’s possessions. Their flight from Tyr and out into the verdant belt surrounding the city was terrifying, but, somehow, they survived. They’d heard whisperings among the other troupes that sanctuary was available to the east, beyond the wastes, so they called in a few favors and with the help of a few acquaintances smuggled their caravan out of the city. Valsavis, at the time was just an innocent youth; a proficient juggler, tumbler and acrobat. His sister Shrasa, a petite and quick-witted riddler, singer and dancer. Finally, their father, Travian, would attract the largest crowds with his poetry recitals and the dizzying speed of his knife work. They spent many years travelling the dangerous roads east. The journey was not easy, the denizens rarely friendly. After overcoming many hardships eventually they decided to settle in a small village nestled in the foothills of the Mekillot Mountains. It was known as Salt View and run by an escaped gladiator from Raam, a half-elf known as Xaynon. Their troupe was small, featuring only a handful of members outside of Valsavis’ immediate family. They had become accustomed to running a circuit around the Ivory Triangle they had claimed as their own. The would head north and west around the Mekillot Mountains and across the plain to the People’s Road, taking great care to avoid the strange forested city of Gulg. From there they would travel south performing for the giant mekillot-drawn argosies that didn’t drive them off with threats and hostility. Leaving the road as it turned northwest, the troupe would continue south onto Grak’s Pool performing for the band of mercenaries stationed at the mud-brick fortress. After that they would head east, back across the Great Ivory Plain, skirting the mountains and returning once again to Salt View. It was on the first leg of their journey, heading west across the plain with the peaks of the Mekillot Mountains still clearly visible at their backs that the attack occurred. Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, Valsavis took second watch, so he was in the caravan asleep when the assault began. He awoke to the screams of his friends and family and the low guttural death throes of their kanks. Psionics assaulted his mind while blade and fang decimated those outside. As he recovered from the initial mental assault, he burst into a scene of grisly death and relentless slaughter. Franticly he searched for his sister and father, leaping over fallen bodies and tumbling through raging melees. He turned a corner just in time to see his Shrasa surrounded, and some unseen force took ahold of her. The scream that was ripped from her body was unlike any Valsavis had ever heard. He ran to her, but just as he was about to thrust himself into the brawl, something struck him from behind and all he found was cold oblivion. He awoke to the stillness of a desolate plain, the howling of the wind the only indication that he was conscious. An attempt to lift his head resulted in an explosion of red hot agony. Pain lanced through his very soul. He moved his fingers and found them sticky and caked with sand. He squinted against the beating sun, examining a slightly raised hand to see it stained crimson. As he was about to close his eyes again, he heard a distant cough and the scraping of sandals across the hard packed grit of the wastes. His eyes flared open, but he didn’t dare move, and a moment later a cool hand gently touched his brow. His field of vision was obscured by an old weathered face, smiling down upon him before darkness took him once more. The next time he awoke, he could move much easier and the old man helped him to his feet. He found Shrasa where he had last seen her. He dropped to his knees, overcome by grief. Her body looked shriveled, shrunken somehow, as if her very life force had been ripped out through her pores. He saw many other bodies of those he had come to know and love, but was unable to locate his father, “Did they take him, my father? What did you see?” But the old preserver said nothing, he only gave him a wistful smile, deep sadness radiating in his eyes. Valsavis was hesitant to trust the peculiar old man, but what choice did he have? He seemed to be the only friendly face for miles, and the raiders could still be lurking nearby. The old preserver accompanied him on his journey back to Salt View, Valsavis numb with shock for most of the trip. The man spent several weeks nursing him back to health. With their abundance of free time, he took it upon himself to teach Valsavis how to read Trade Tongue, the common language of the Tablelands. After many days, Valsavis awoke to finally find himself feeling whole again. When he asked after the old man, he found that he had been spotted leaving town just after nightfall. He never even got the chance to thank him for saving his life. Valsavis began the painful task of picking up the pieces of his fragmented existence. As he searched through the possessions left by his loved ones, he found a finely made obsidian bards friend among his father’s things. Looking it over, he got the strange feeling that this wasn’t the only one. Somehow he knew it had a twin. What use did my father have for this? And where did he keep the other one? He thought to himself. As he pondered the strange weapon’s meaning, he heard someone approaching from behind. Turning he was surprised to see the battle-scarred leader of their small village, Xaynon. “I was told you lost Shrasa, and Travian has gone missing? May the wind guide him safely back to us.” He took pity on the abandoned youth, “In this dying world, many of us find ourselves to be abandoned at one time in our lives. Although I continue to look to the winds for guidance, the elves cast out my mother for bearing a child of mixed blood. You are not of the right mind to be alone, and the winds bid me not abandon you. I would offer my tent as a place of solace and refuge should you have it.” And with that Xaynon took Valsavis into his home. At first, he would leave the youth to his own devices, allowing him to work through his grief on his own. Over time, he noticed Valsavis lashing out at others, usually resulting in fights that left the struggling youth bruised and bloodied. So it was that Xaynon began teaching him the gritty style of combat required to survive a life spent battling in the gladiatorial pits. Valsavis had never killed someone, had never even been in a fight until recently, but now he knew the path to vengeance was paved with congealed blood and bits of broken bone. During this time, rumors of other attacks similar to the one which claimed the lives of his loved ones took root as other troupes staggered into town, their numbers dwindled, their goods spoiled and shattered. He couldn’t ignore the coincidence, some force wanted to see their village and its members wiped from the face of Athas. But why? As Valsavis matured from hopeless youth into fighting man, Xaynon was shocked by the brutality of his attacks. He channeled his grief into rage and used it to transform himself into a whirling dervish of violence. Valsavis retained the balance and agility beaten into him from his days serving House Shom, but his bulk increased as his lithe frame grew thick with dense corded muscle. One day, Xaynon matched him with a hulking goliath fighter named Blagg and Valsavis made quick work of the slow brute. The half-giant was so shocked by his natural strength, that he gave him a magical belt to further increase his raw power. Word of his prowess in the fighting pits spread and it wasn’t long before he secured work as a sentry, patrolling the foothills bordering Salt View. Appearance:
Valsavis is crisscrossed with fresh wounds and old scars over deeply tanned brown skin. Sun-streaked, matted and dirty dark brown hair is loosely tied back, errant strands brushing his shoulders. The cloak he wears is torn at the edges and unremarkable, it’s washed out color matching that of the wastes. When donning the hood, his face is obscured in darkness, helping to shade his eyes from the scorching sun. Muddy dark brown eyes sit like rocks below a deep brow and slightly sloped forehead. He wears an ironwood breastplate over a thin and fraying plain shirt, a dull obsidian amulet hanging on a cord of giant hair tucked underneath. Attached to his breastplate, ironwood plates are tied to this thighs. Loose fitting sandy gray trousers, with ties at the knees and ankles, are stuffed into weathered, but well made, boots and held up with a wide thick belt. He wears a tooled leather baldric, housing his two obsidian bard’s friends, one of which was his father’s, finely made by a craftsman in Urik. He still searches for its twin. A full quiver of arrows and a large bow are slung over his shoulders. A belt pouch hangs at his waist, containing a few essentials. He dons a finely made pack when travelling over long distances. Personality:
Prior to the attack, Valsavis was an easy-going, warm, and gentle young man, wanting nothing more than to dazzle and delight the patrons of his father’s performing troupe. The better the performance the higher the chance of them being able to eat that day. Now, those qualities are obscured under a stern mask of deadly determination. He is driven by the need to bring about the downfall of whoever attacked his father’s caravan and killed Shrasa. He will not rest until he learns the fate of his father and his attackers all lay dead, rotting in the bleached sands, sustenance for the scavengers of the wastes. |
