A last-minute addition, if you please. Wiles Malloy, Archaeologist Bard and multi-purpose gentleman.
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Thanks for deciding to run the Game, GM Harker. Good luck to all!
It's been a while, so I just wanted to restate my interest to play in your campaign, GM Harker. Happy Thursday, everyone.
That was my intention...I figured it would flow better as part of my background. Thanks for the feedback. :) GM Harker: Of course, this means Wiles would be rather terrified of vampires, so plenty of RP opportunity later on.
As for role, Wiles would be shooting for the skills/face aspect of the party.
Presenting Wiles Malloy for your consideration! Everything is in the profile, but I can post it here in spoilers if you would prefer. Edit: Can post as often as you like throughout the day. Path: I can see Wiles going down multiple Paths, depending on what we encounter. I envision him continuing down the Archaeologist rogue path, as status quo.
Varya, I would go a step further and say that seeing any person raising a corpse into an undead creation would have a neutral/good party howling in indignation, at the very least.
Updated background to fit the theme better. Hope you enjoy.
Unable to fully engage his chivalrous nature, Wiles instead gives the woman a grave nod of his head, dipping his head a moment. "A pleasure likewise, Miss Aravis." He turns to the gentleman, shaking his head, small beads of water inadvertently flung with the gentle gesture. "Not from around here, no. From Caliphas originally, though I've been around lately. Nice to meet ya." Wiles extends his hand to shake, his grip firm as they greet one another. His gaze drifts back to the woman, and he nods. "Do not stop on my account, ma'am. Ya should get something warm if ya belly while ya can. I fear this weather be here for a bit" I fear something deeper than that, as well...but I can't put my finger on it. He grins in delight as a steaming bowl of the stew and a glass of wine are brought out for him, nodding his thanks to the server before digging in with an appetite.
Prologue: The small man's dark green eyes crinkle as he smiles wearily at the woman seated next to him. "Aravis Lelaint. Any relation to the Caliphas Lelaints?" Without waiting for much of a response, he shakes his head, chuckling at himself. "Forgive me. How rude to not share my name first. Wiles Malloy!" He looks at the woman uncertainly...greetings with women was not something he was terrible familiar with. He finally settles on extending his hand to her for a shake. "I heard ya mention the Professor. I am here for the funeral, as I guess ya are, as well. A good man, the Professor. Brilliant. He'll be missed round these parts." He shakes his head as he waits for his food and beverage, again patting the pocket with the letters.
Prologue: The small man bent his head against the dreary evening, the incessant tapping of the rain his only companion on the dark road. Ahead he sees a town, not Ravengro, but within a stone's throw. He breathes a sigh of relief, closing his eyes for a moment as his weary legs continue slowly bringing him closer to shelter of some sort. His short reverie is instantly blown away by a bright flash on his periphery, followed by a deafening crack of thunder as a tree not far from him explodes in a veritable fireball. Of course, the rain quickly dampens it, leaving a smoking husk in its wake as Wiles turns back towards his destination, his trepidation growing. His pace quickening as he grows ever more eager for shelter and safety, he catches movement out of the corner of his eyes. His sharp, green eyes snap over towards the possible threat, only to find a lone dog wandering the path, likely as soaked and miserable as Wiles is. He chuckles wryly, shaking his head, turning away before snapping his gaze back. What had been in the canine's mouth? His eyes narrow, but the normally curious young man shrugs it off, his gait increasing as he looks for the telltale sign of an Inn or Tavern as he huddles inside his coat. A poor-looking structure in the background offers the telling smoke of an Inn, but Wiles looks at the place doubtfully, wondering if it might fall in on top of the inhabitants during a particularly rough wind. As a gust of wind threatens to blow off his hat, he realizes he can't really be choosy, so he approaches the place, noting the name of the establishment is The Willows Inn. His arrival is met by a cute, middle-aged woman who seems to dote on her customers. He smiles weakly at the woman, following her inside to the cozy-looking room. He nods in agreement with her, "Aye, ma'am. Ya must have a bit of da mystic in ya, as ya've read my mind. Lamb stew would be great!" He presses a gold coin into her hand. "For dinner, a room, and breakfast tomorrow. Thank ya kindly." He takes off his dark coat, shaking the water off before setting it on the rack to join the others already in attendance. He runs a hand through his short, light brown hair, grimacing as he tries to re-part it with his fingers. Doing as good a job as he can under the circumstances, he walks with grace to the table, seating himself next to a pretty woman with a hooded cloak, and a well-dressed man of the latest Ustalav fashions. Wiles himself wears dark navy denim pants, with a loose navy shirt, both soaked thoroughly from the rain. He hears the woman mention Professor Lorrimor, curiosity and sadness both seeping into him as he presses his hand to his breast pocket and the two damp letters residing there.
Adjusted background to add a few hooks. Hopefully that fits a little better.
Submitting Wiles Malloy, Archaeologist! GM Espíritu - If there is anything missing, please let me know.
You must've lucked out, then. Most of us don't deserve the moniker. ;)
Crunch:
Wiles Malloy Male Rogue (Acrobat) 1 CG Medium Humanoid (Human) Init +8; Senses Perception +8 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 18, touch 16, flat-footed 12 (Armor +2, Dex +6) hp 11 (1d8 + 3 Con) Fort +3, Ref +8, Will +2 -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 30 ft. Ranged Light Crossbow +6 (d8/19-20 x2) MeleeRapier +6 (d6 + 1/18-20 x2), Dagger +6 (d4 + 1/19-20 x2) -------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 12, Dex 22, Con 16, Int 19, Wis 15, Cha 19 Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 17 Special Abilities - Sneak Attack 1d6 Expert Acrobat Feats
Traits
Skills (8 + 4(Int) + 1(Human) + 1(FC) Trained: Acrobatics +10 (1)
Languages
GearRapier, Dagger, Light Crossbow, 20 Bolts, Leather Armor, Backpack, Bedroll, Explorer's Outfit, Flint & Steel, 50' Silk Rope, 3 Empty Sacks, MW Thieves' Tools, Vial of Alchemist's Fire, Silver Holy Symbol of Desna, Waterskin, 11 gp, 6 sp
Background:
Wiles was born to a well-regarded demon hunter named Riger Malloy and his wife Bethania. The infant was small and sickly, and the midwife told the parents he would likely die. For days the babe clinged to life, barely crying, hardly feeding, spending most of his time curled in a ball, as if trying to preserve every scrap of strength and heat. When it seemed all was lost, the babe started to cry out, and ate from his mother's breast with a hearty appetite. As it seemed the boy would actually live, Riger named him Wiles for his tenacity and his clever (albeit instinctual) conservation of energy. Wiles was a very clever young man, and picked things up quickly. In particular, he was very quick and agile for his age, able to outrun boys much older, and able to evade even the most dogged pursuit in the rough games only boy children can go through. Unfortunately, to Riger's dismay, the lad seemed to remain a runt, being much smaller than his fellows. When the man started to practice Wiles with a blade, the lad struggled with the weight. When the young man was given a lighter blade, he was able to perform well, making up for his strength deficiencies by using his swiftness to evade defenses and strike precisely. Being a too-clever young boy, and having all the insecurities of being a much-smaller child than those around him, Wiles was always accepting dares, jumping off ledges, filching bread from the local baker, and generally being a daredevil show-off to gain the favor he would never get from being a large, strong man. As he approached adolescence, he and a group of older boys went near the front lines of the fighting at the Worldwound, daring each other to continue multiple times. Finally, when the other boys would go no further, Wiles continued on, determined to prove his supremacy to the larger and stronger older boys. Unfortunately for the young man, he became a bit disoriented, and soon found his way back blocked by a squad of demons. His natural quickness and stealth enabled him to hide from the evil outsiders, but it would only be a matter of time before he would be caught. To his surprise, a beautiful young archer suddenly appeared beside him, even more skilled at evading watchful eyes than he was. She took his hand, and slowly they crept across the battlefield. They started and stopped multiple times, the trek nerve-wracking. Finally, when it seemed they would make it, Wiles and the woman heard the guttural sounds of demonic speaking, and turned to find a small group of demons starting to pursue them. The woman implored Wiles to flee, fighting a running battle as she followed him, firing arrows into the approaching horde. To Wiles' surprise, more often than not she hit the pursuing creatures, but they continued to gain. When all seemed lost, a group of crusaders appeared over the next rise, and the duo made for them. Wiles took note as the lovely lady smiled and grasped at a symbol that hung from her neck, a symbol that resembled a butterfly. The pair made it to safety, and Wiles was whisked away to his parents, never to see the woman again. After a tearful embrace with his mother, and an hours-long berating about his stupidity, he asked around about the symbol. He was told that the symbol belonged to Desna, Goddess of Travelers, the Stars, Dreams, and to Wiles surprise and amusement, Luck. He traveled to a shop and instantly bought a holy symbol of the Goddess, and has worshipped her casually ever since. As Wiles approached manhood, he found that although he was small of stature, his strikingly good looks and clever persona made him rather popular with the ladies, and he used this to good advantage. To further his advances with the female sex, he took dance lessons, using his natural grace and balance to become quite a good dancer his efforts to woo the highborn along with the common folk. Wiles also made it a point to find his niche in the battle against the forces of the Abyss, wanting to be known as a famous scourge of demons like his father. Although his relative lack of strength made him a poor fit for the front lines, his sharp intellect, sharp eye, and steady hands, along with a lot of practice, will make him a valued part of any excursion, as he can spot enemies, find traps and disarm them, and even speak to the demonic enemies encountered if the group happened to capture any.
Mythic Path:
Trickster. Might possibly pick up some arcane levels and go Arcane Trickster. Personality:
Wiles is an energetic fellow, never seeming at ease while at rest. He doesn't take things too personal, and has a broad sense of humor. He accepts most any dare or request, having an almost obsession with showing off his multitude of skills. While he definitely has an appreciation of female companionship, he tends to get bored with most of the women he associates with fairly quickly. He can be quite reckless, but knows when to keep quiet and let stealth work for him.
Appearance:
Wiles is a small man, barely 5’6” and weighing no more than 120 pounds. He has warm brown eyes, and hair a shade of brown that might be called dirty blonde that is straight and always seems in need of a cut. His tanned skin is free of lines and wrinkles and he moves with the easy grace of a dancer. He typically walks around in his leather armor, rapier and dagger on his hip and crossbow strapped on his back. In more social outings, he wears dark clothes that leave enough room for him to move gracefully if there is need for dancing or some other trick he might know. RP Sample: As the group pressed into the courtyard of the abandoned complex, the guard towers at the corners of the walls just starting to show the first signs of ruin, the demons sprung from their hiding spot, falling upon the lead fighters ravenously. Wiles crept along the shadows at the base of the wall, trusting his comrades to not fall under the initial assault. As the warriors fended off the brutes, and their support cleric and wizard battered the creatures with magic and healed the worst of the fighters' wounds, Wiles snuck behind one of the creatures, striking down viciously with his dagger. The precise strike was true, finding the creature's spine and ending its existence on this plane abruptly. When the other demon turned to figure out what had happened to its companion, Wiles' companions finished off the other creature. As they gathered themselves to move on, Wiles took out his silver holy symbol, planting a quick kiss on it before stuffing it back down his leather jerkin.
The surprise attack behind them, Wiles followed his fellows into the small keep, his keen eyes sweeping the area as the others slowly moved forward. It was important to know one's role, and this was his. They trusted the wizard to identify fell magics and blast the enemies with his arcane might, trusted the cleric to heal the group and use his divine grace to turn the tide against their foes, and trusted the fighters to help keep the others safe and turn the enemy to mincemeat before their mighty blades. Wiles' role was no less important, if a little lean in the history books. As the group approached a tight corridor, Wiles whispered a sharp command to stop and advanced to the front of the group. He took a few ginger steps forward, barely planting any of his weight on the stones before him. He grinned widely as he felt a telltale shift in one of the paving stones, looking back to his companions and winking as he pulled out one of his tools, flipping it into the air, the device twisting end over end before he snatched it out of the air, the tool landing perfectly in his grasp, ready for use, as he said, "Don't worry guys...I've got this."
Glancing at Tchirash, he smiles warmly as he offers a rebuttal. "A chance to show a person's mettle and aptitude, exist, yes, but only in a specified format. As I said, there is a tool for every task, and a task for every tool. Perhaps some should march in a battalion, ready to test their might against the hordes of the Abyss, while others would not do nearly as well in that regard as they would in a smaller, sleeker force. Just an example, of course. They've been doing it for decades...I'm sure they know what they're doing." His lips turn upward even more, the sarcasm evident at the end of his dialogue. Turning to Ulfr, he nods, taking a long pull to drain his tankard. "Aye, that would be nice, if the lady is not averse. We'll avoid the tables, though, lest our friend decide to try his luck launching milady out the window."
Wiles bows again to Rakeesh before taking a pull from his mug, the bitter brew causing him to grimace. As the three celestially-descended folk talk, he listens in, his foot still tapping on the floor to some unheard beat. Unabashedly, he walks up to the three at a break in their conversation, adding in, "Perhaps the fact that crusaders are picked as 'those seen' at the festival tournament lends itself to the current stalemate. There is a tool for every task, and it seems such a cookie cutter way of choosing is a recipe for the same dish every time."
The man's grin widens as he realizes he might have found a dance partner that was his equal. Possibly better. He spins with the dexterous woman, moving as she moves to keep the table balanced. His eyes widen as the piece of furniture starts to tip as he careens across it, only to find that she has spun nearer the center to stabilize it. As she sings and they dance, the game continues, the table wobbling and tipping dangerously, but never does it crash to the floor. When he feels the song is nearing its end, he speeds up his spinning movement, building momentum as his adrenaline pumps through him. On the last note, he launches himself into the air, twisting through a somersault to land lightly on his feet between two nearby tables. Chest heaving, he puts an arm in front of him and bows as an entertainer would after an act, that merry smile still on his face. Lastly, he bows to his dance partner before walking back to the bar, holding a hand up to indicate he needs a refill.
Wiles' eyes narrow only slightly at the blue-skinned woman's words. Merry in nature he and the others might be, but he at least knew the nature of demon-kind, had been stuck behind enemy lines only a few short years ago. Only his wits, speed, and the whimsical chance meeting with a beautiful woman had spared him in that harrying time. Still, if the woman liked to build her confidence by striding upon the morale and ego of her fellows, that was her business. Wiles was determined to make merry while there was merry to make. He shakes his head and grins up at the catwoman, lightly springing to his feet and jumping with ease to share the tabletop with her, shifting his weight to find the appropriate balance so the furniture doesn't spill over. He holds his right hand out, bowing at a shallow angle at the waist, his left arm extended behind him. "Might I have this dance, my lady?"
Wiles raises his mug to join Bertholdt's toast, shouting "Aye!" at his words. The drumming stopped, so his tapping foot stops with it. With annoyance, the man realizes he can't quite reach the ground when sitting on the stool. Shrugging, he turns to the two who approached the bar, smiling widely. "Pass the wardstones? I'm hoping to, though I might need to taper off my usual drinking habits so I wake up in time." He chuckles, taking another long pull of his bitter brew, wiping his mouth with his dark sleeve to wipe away any residue. "Are you to be there for moral support, sir?" He keeps his face level, but his eyes dance.
The small man enters the tavern at the tail-end of the short song, his brown eyes wrinkling in amusement at the man's apparent wait for a chorus. While he doesn't know the lyrics, he can guess what might come next, he grins and claps along with the beat while he makes his way to the surly bartender, trying to encourage the singer to continue. Merriment in his eyes, he stops clapping, putting his hands on the bar as he shouts out, "Ale, please! A nice dark brew if you have one." He remains standing, tapping his foot along with the drums while he waits for his drink. Every ounce of him screams to start dancing to the rhythm, but he resists, for now.
No kidding! Wowsers!
Submitting Wiles Malloy, dashing Rogue and skill monkey extraordinaire!
Best of luck to all in the home stretch.
It was between the MW thieves' tools or a chain shirt. Tools seemed to fit the niche better, and if between the slayer and brawler they need me up front, we've got problems 1 point of AC won't fix.
Wiles has been updated. He still can't turn into a shark, though. :p
Ugh...I even noted the max gold when I started building him, then still took the average anyway. Fixed! Also, I'm assuming OK means ho hum, so I'll try to sprinkle a little pizzazz on him.
May I present Wiles Malloy, Rogue (Acrobat) of the first order. Likely the only order, as I don't believe many people play rogues anymore. :p All info in the profile. Your feedback is welcome. |