I tried logging in today to work on my character sheet but it was done for a while. I'm going to see what I can get done tonight.
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Since MW's here, I'm going to do something completely different than I'd first had in mind and play a wizard. I don't think a wizard and a sorcerer in the same party is going to work against us in S&S and he's almost literally the opposite of Korum's sorcerer in every way. * 10 = 80gp See? Even far poorer!
DO IT!
I have no bleeping idea, MW. Still at the drawing boards stage.
Hey MW! Good to see you! Hopefully you'll join in.
Going with a brute of some sort. Though maybe a monk if I'm feeling especially prancy. Unless... Tulip plays a fighter sort. Then maybe I'LL play the wizard. Ha!
Tuck brings up a good point. I'm all for using either set of rolls but for fixed, I'd definitely be going with a melee specialist. That might be okay though...it'd be the opposite of my RotR character.
Regular Rolls:
Roll # 1: 10 Roll # 2: 12 Roll # 3: 11 Roll # 4: 16 Roll # 5: 16 Roll # 6: 16 Hoo- 3 16s in a roll, what're the odds of that? Fixed Rolls:
STR: DEX: CON: INT: WIS: CHR: EXTRA: This one is not looking good for the likes o' me. Come to think of it, it's not even feasible is it? Here's another set: STR:
Much the better! I haven't looked at the Player's Guides for the other games yet. How about I consider my rolls, look at the guides and then I'll make my vote? A'course, since you're already familiar with Serpent's Skull, that might make the most sense.
Weejon steps back so that he can line up his spear with the nearest goblin and tries another attack.
Weejon takes the opportunity to stab at the goblin with his spear as it rushes forward.
Weejon moves forward to be ready to help Tuck, drawing his longspear and holding it at the ready.
Weejon moves forward to take the vial out of Korum's hand and examines it closely.
Korum shrugs and hands it back. "Swamp water, most like. They probably thought it had mystical properties but they were wrong."
Korum looks it over carefully, shifting the fluid back and forth and studying it in the changing light of the fires.
He shrugs. "It's magical but I can't ascertain what it does exactly. It could heal or do harm." He hands it back. After the vial has been dealt with, Weejon looks around. "There are probably people who need my help." He gets ready to go in search of them...
Weejon hurries forward. "If any of you need healing, please gather close." Once everyone is within range of him (and after checking to ensure the goblins won't be healed), Weejon closes his eyes and touches the tip of two fingers to the medallion around his neck. "Sweet lady, wash away our wounds with the sweet touch of your wings."
Feeling the heat of the fire in the tent beside him, and wincing at the deep cut he'd just received, Weejon renews his attack with the club, determined to get out of the corner he's trapped himself in.
Weejon's hammer strikes the goblin and he grins with vidication. "Desna bless me, I got one at last!"
Weejon ignores the burns he suffered and attacks with his club, more concerned with getting away from the burning tent at this point than whatever harm the goblin might cause him.
Weejon squeezes between tents so that he can catch one of the goblins, hopefully by surprise.
Weejon makes his best effort to move quietly after Tuck.
Weejon nods. "We'll do what's necessary to deal with the attackers." He clasps hands with Zantus. "Give us your blessing, my friend." With a look to Tuck, he smiles. "Good man, Tuck. Let's go." Then he hurries forward, club in his hand.
Weejon moves around the corner and claps the man on the shoulder. "That's the spirit! I'm Weejon Umber, faithful of Desna. And your name is Tuck? And who are you, little girl? Should we get you to your mother?"
Weejon does touch the boy's shoulder then. "You did what you had to do, lad. Nothing more, nothing less. You defended the town." He looks at the next table over and understanding blooms in his thoughts. "I remember you. You served me some of that spicy fish. You're a brave lad and you've nothing to be ashamed of. Goblin's live for slaughter and torment and they would have happily cut you up if they could have."
Weejon moves forward to Tuck. "Are you all right, lad? You've fought well, killing two goblins where three of us were hard pressed against one." He reaches out to touch the young man but stops, uncertain of the other's control.
Caught off guard by the sharp tone of the small girl with the dagger, Weejon stares after her for a moment. "You shouldn't be out here, child. Why haven't you gone back to the cathedral with the others?" He follows after her,
Weejon nods in satisfaction at the goblin's death. "Well fought, friend Dwarf. Are you wounded? I would be happy to lend you some assistance with any harm you've taken." He turns to look at the halfling. "And you! Quite a little girl to act with such bravery. Desna bless you."
Weejon admired both the halfling for her unexpected skill and the dwarf for his clever tactic of grabbing hold of the goblin. As the dwarf and the goblin back to struggle over control of each other, Weejon raised his club and swung it in an effort to strike the goblin.
Weejon is so horrified by his failure to help the little girl that for a second he wasn't sure what to do. Then his resolve returns and he steps over the girl's body to confront the goblin on the opposite side from Korum. "Desna will punish you for your crimes." he says with grim satisfaction and swings the club.
Weejon keeps moving toward the goblin, rushing up to it and swinging his club with a battlecry, "Desna protects the little children and I am her instrument!"
"Get back,"Weejon bellows, pulling a club free from beneath his robes and making his way through the crowd. "Find safety at the cathedral!"
Weejon turns at the sound of the dog's death gurgle but pauses as the strange song fills the air. He grimly looks back to the stage and shouts to Zantus, "Father! There be goblins here!"
DM:
Weejon's favorite moment of the day came with the release of the butterflies. For a few moments after, seemingly hundreds of the butterflies surrounded around him, fluttering wings touching his cheeks, hands and heart. A few even gathered at his belly before lifting away on a breeze. He felt the touch of his goddess in every brush of the wing and was enrapt throughout. When the moment had finally passed, Weejon knew with a warm certainty that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He'd hoped to speak to Father Zantus about his experiences and his hopes but the Father was extremely busy throughout the afternoon. Instead, Weejon enjoyed the lunch, especially the salmon provided by the Rusty Dragon. Weejon met up with Zantus as afternoon grew late and helped out with a few things before approaching the stage, knowing when the thunderstone would set off. He stood at a side angle so he could watch the stage and the audience at the same time, and therefore made note of the strange cloaked man beside the halfling girl, admiring the contrast between the two. He smiled, thinking that the girl reminded him of Zantus' parable earlier that day. The girl looked half ready to turn into a butterfly and drift away at any moment.
DM: Weejon nods. "I'd be happy to help. Perhaps we'll meet later, Crydrak?" The cleric follows Zantus off to provide whatever assistance he can offer.
DM: Weejon takes the hand of both the mayor and Crydrak with pleasure. "Thank you both for your welcome. It's quite a festival you've got going here. Everyone seems to be having a wonderful time." As he greets Crydrak, he smiles and laughs with genuine enthusiasm. "I'd heard you found a better place to put on your shows away from all the politics of Magnimar. I can see why you like it here. And you got Allishanda to perform in your act? That's quite an accomplishment indeed. I'm glad to see you're doing so well for yourself." He doesn't allow Cydrak's questions of his new position as cleric to diminish his pleasant countenance. "As to how I came to serve Desna? Well it is a good story that I'd be happy to tell you over a glass of sweet wine and a platter of good food. I am as well as I've ever been as I'm sure you can see!" He pats his belly with cheerful enthusiasm.
DM: Weejon huffs his way up the stairs to the stage and makes his way over to Zanthus. "Father," he says in his familiar bellow, "That was a fine speech you gave, a very fine speech. And it's a beautiful cathedral and a beautiful day to celebrate it. I'm honored to be a part of the festivities."
DM: Weejon laughed a deep, throaty sound that left belly and jowls alike jiggling under its force. "Well truthfully, friend, it was Desna's idea. I was just a poor fool, following the allure of gold into a deep well that led to nowhere. Desna set me free and set me on the road." He became more serious then. "Though truth be told, I have no idea where she'd have me go."
An enormous man of 6'6", Weejon is dressed in the vestments of a cleric of Desna. His dark hair and thin beard is streaked with gray. He has a simple club at his broad waist and a longspear strapped to his back. A starknife is visible at his left shoulder as a mark of his faith that is accompanied by the exquisitely crafted silver with butterfly that hangs on a silver chain around his neck. The butterfly's wings are outlined with blue lapis highlights. To complete the ensemble, Weejon wears a velvet hat with a jaunty white feather. DM: Weejon accepts Jasper's hand with a grin. "Sir Jasper! I hadn't thought to see you here either. I'm freshly come to Sandpoint, here to see the ceremony. Is this where you run your Merchant's Guild then?"
Weejon is ready too!
Aside from equipment, I have everything chosen out. I do still want to update my profile to better reflect things according to your format, Tel, but the Hero Lab profile is included already. Equipment is needed but just in terms of minor things. Regardless, I am ready when you are.
MW is a good player but he's kind of busy, isn't it? Besides, I thought you wanted to stick with four players. Weejon is almost complete. I'm down to selecting equipment and feats. The feat selection is getting ridiculous these days. At this rate, it'll be as bad as 3.5 in another year.
And here it is. The bio got to be rather long and petered out in the end the way it usually does when I write these things. Sorry bout that. Funds:
He'll take the bonus skill rank in Profession: Merchant, obviously. The only connection I can think of for him is Father Zanthus. Come to think of it, though, maybe he's met one of the other townsfolk during his Merchant days. I'll take another look at the Guide and get back to you. Traits yet to come. How a Merchant Was Saved and Became a Servant of Desna:
Weejon Umber was born to a family of giants. Large men and women were born of his mother’s bountiful womb and of his father’s generous seed. Though the Umber family are human, they are all tall, broad and with a boisterous humor and thirst for life to match their sizes.
Weejon, youngest of a brood of seven (three daughters and three other sons) is also the smallest. At a mere 6’6” and 280 pounds, he almost looks dwarfed beside the rest of his kin and had been since his birth (to which his mother once allowed to have been rather grateful for). As a consequence, like all his brothers when he was gifted with his father’s name (Jon) he also earned the prefix of wee. His other brothers are likewise known as Brightjon, Loudjon and Greatjon (7’6” and over 450 pounds) respectively. The Umbers were a merchant family that dealt largely in wood. Firstjon, the patriarch, was descended three generations removed from a great lumberjack who felled an entire forest using his own great forearms and axe (or so the legend tells it). The sons that followed focused on selling the wood and eventually aligning with men who could make something of it until they no longer cut wood but spent their lives providing it for profit in all it’s many forms. Weejon may not have had the size of his siblings but he had their appetites and such appetites must be fed with coin. So upon reaching his age of maturity he threw himself into the family business and travelled throughout Varisia making himself and his family ever wealthier. For thirty three years Weejon had lived a life of luxury, gluttony and greed, believing all the while that his work must be pleasing Abadar -- at least on the rare occasion when he gave any thought to the gods. If asked which of the gods might favor him, he’d have certainly spoken of Abadar. So it was a complete surprise when Desna stepped into his life and took him for her own. On a perfectly routine trip from Korvosa to Magnimar, Weejon and his men were struck by bandits in such a sudden, ferocious attack that they were caught entirely unaware. Before Weejon could realize what happened, his men were dead and a large Shoanti warrior was charging at him. He never saw the spear thrust and scarcely felt it as little more than a great force against his gut. The world wheeled above him and he lost consciousness before hitting the ground. When Weejon woke at first he didn’t know what he was seeing. The world seemed to be filtered through shifting sheets of gossamer silks. As he tried to sit up, some of the silks shifted and he realized he was looking up at the sky through a cloud of butterflies. As he bent his legs underneath him, agony ripped through his midsection. He looked down to see the broken shaft of a spear rising from his stomach. Blood was everywhere and ever breath he took brought the agony back. Without thinking, Weejon gripped the spearhaft, groaning with pain, and pulled. The world seemed to dim to a fuzzy red and black but then the shaft came free and he felt the well of blood pour out of him. He fell back, gasping and sobbing in pain and despair as his life poured out of him. It was then that he saw the butterflies, a cloud of them that had been dancing and whirling around him while he pulled at the shaft. They streamed down and landed on the wound, pressing tightly. He tried to swipe at them with one hand but another cloud danced over his hand and eyes, distracting him long enough to press tightly against his wound once more. Weak from blood loss and pain, Weejon fell limp, expecting to die. Instead he found himself growing stronger. The pain eased until it was little more than a throbbing ache. In disbelief, Weejon slowly raised himself back up on his elbow and looked down at his stomach again. The wound was packed full with small, brightly colored butterflies. Every now and then the wings would stir or a butterfly would lift away and be replaced with another. There was something about the way they clung there that stirred an old memory. One of the gods was known for butterflies. A woman, he thought. The lucky lady? It seemed impossible to believe but as his strength returned to him and the pain continued to numb, he became more convinced. These butterflies were agents of a god. Moving with deliberate caution, Weejon found that he was able to get to his feet again. The bodies of his men and several of their horses were all around him. His clothes had been slashed into ribbons by a knife as the bandits robbed him. Slowly, Weejon began to make his way down the road. It took him hours to get to the nearest village and there were times when he came near to collapse. Once he had to sit again as he grew dizzy and the ground and sky began to flipflop around him. He was very careful about the butterflies who continued to cling to him, shifting in slow dazzling movements. But eventually he made it, though he could hardly walk. Wonders didn’t cease; the village had a visiting cleric of Desna staying at the house of the elder. When the local folk called the cleric to help, he took one look at Weejon and immediately hurried forth to lay his hands on him. ”Desna saved you,” he murmured as he filled Weejon’s body with the warm energy of his goddess’ blessing. It seemed that hundreds of butterflies lifted away from Weejon’s belly to flutter around the heads of priest and merchant alike. Forever after, the skin of Weejon’s belly was marked by a mosaic of colors in the shapes of butterfly wings. He was marked in another way by his near-death. Though Weejon had always been a hearty, strong man who could lift chests of gold or f#*$#$s of would that any ordinary man could scarcely shift, he discovered soon after that most of his strength had left him. He was still tall and broad of figure but now he was no different than any other. He did not let that discovery disturb him, however. He recognized a gift when he saw it and he did not intend to waste it. Right there, before the small clergyman who had healed him, Weejon took his oaths to serve Desna as she saw fit, for all his remaining years to come. He journeyed immediately to Magnimar, forsook his fortune and place and committed himself to the church of Desna where he has served for the last 11 months. Now he has come to Sandpoint to witness the opening of the town’s new church. He is a stranger to the town but already welcomed by Father Zanthus as a friend and looks forward to the ceremony to come. Uncertain Destiny: Weejon is a man haunted by the fortune granted him by his goddess. When he first committed himself to the life of serving Desna, he expected that he’d soon learn why he had been saved by her and did his best to be a model clergyman. As the days turned to weeks, the weeks to months and the month into near a year, he returned to drinking, whoring and gambling when the answers did not come. He’s still as committed to Desna as he ever was but the lack of direction has been disappointing. When his superior suggested that he visit Sandpoint’s reconsecration, he accepted gladly in hopes that his purpose might be found there. Or at the very least, he’d broaden his horizons and discover some new whores to while away the time with.
I'm almost done with my background. Hopefully I'll have it posted in a little while. |