ZZZ_DN_Char_Template's page

Skill points: # (# + INT + favored)/lvl

Acrobatics + (0 + DEX - ACP)
Appraise + (0 + INT)
Bluff + (0 + CHA)
Climb + (0 + STR - ACP)
Craft (-) + (0 + INT)
Diplomacy + (0 + CHA)
Disguise + (0 + CHA)
Escape Artist + (0 + DEX - ACP)
Fly + (0 + DEX - ACP)
Heal + (0 + WIS)
Intimidate + (0 + CHA)
Perception + (0 + WIS)
Perform + (0 + CHA)
Ride + (0 + DEX - ACP)
Sense Motive + (0 + WIS)
Stealth + (0 + DEX - ACP)
Survival + (0 + WIS)
Swim + (0 + STR - ACP)

Trained Only Skills (Untrained)
Disable Device []+[/] (0 + DEX - ACP)
Handle Animal []+[/] (0 + CHA)
Knowledge (arcana) []+[/] (0 + INT)
Knowledge (dungeoneering) []+[/] (0 + INT)
Knowledge (engineering) []+[/] (0 + INT)
Knowledge (geography) []+[/] (0 + INT)
Knowledge (history) []+[/] (0 + INT)
Knowledge (local) []+[/] (0 + INT)
Knowledge (nature) []+[/] (0 + INT)
Knowledge (nobility) []+[/] (0 + INT)
Knowledge (planes) []+[/] (0 + INT)
Knowledge (religion) []+[/] (0 + INT)
Linguistics []+[/] (0 + INT)
Profession () []+[/] (0 + WIS)
Sleight of Hand []+[/] (0 + DEX - ACP)
Spellcraft []+[/] (0 + INT)
Use Magic Device []+[/] (0 + CHA)

Encumbrance # lbs (33 lbs=light; 66 lbs=medium; 100 lbs=heavy)

_wt_ item

0.0 lbs (0 gp) Weapons

0.0 lbs (0 gp) Clothing and Armor
__._ Outfit

0 lbs (0 gp) Other Gear

Cash # gp

The girl looks down at the floor, the skin coloured cream that had been covering her skin now barely there having been wahsed off from her play in the water with the other children. Her burnished brass-coloured skin shines through, but a patch on her cheek darkens from the blow her father had given her.

"Damn you girl," her father growled at her, fists clenched. "The Atesh-zadeh family has been hidden for centuries and you nearly ruin it all by your foolishness. What if one of the Syl-Pasha's people, or worse, some foul Djinn-spawned demon had seen you? We would be ruined!" Her father took a deep breath, his eyes aflame. "You will be marked, just like those lesser genasi of the family, so that this will not happen again."

"Mark?" the girl asked in trepadition.

"Aye, the tattoo will be painful, but it should help you learn propriety. "You were lucky, in fact, we all were that this was discovered by a loyalist in time to take care of things before word got out."

"Take care of things?" the girl dared ask.

"Indeed. By now, all witnesses will have died in some fashion or another."

The girl looks at her father in horror. "But they were my friends!"

"And now you know the price of your folly. The veil remains until Memnon is freed from his prison. You would do well to remember that Amestri."

---------------

The young woman sits with a regal pose on her chair, sitting beside her noble parents, awaiting for the last of the petitioners to depart.

"Well done, Amestri," her mother whispered to her after the doors had closed behind them.

"Ugh... it was so boring," she muttered back to her mother, earning a glare from her father who got up and left.

"You could be a Pasha when you're older, so you must know all that is required. Even the boring things."

"But that will be in forever. Why do I have to learn it now?"

Her mother looked around the room before turning back to her daughter, "Your father has found a suitable husband for you. One of the followers of Memnon, like us. His father is ancient and soon he will be a Pasha on his own and you will be one alongside him."

Amestri looked at her mother in shock, unable to process the information for a while. "No! I'm not marrying anyone!"

The door to the room slammed as her father seemed to appear out of nowhere. "You will marry whoever I tell you to girl. This is what you were raised for. The wedding will happen in a year."

---------------

One month to the wedding, Amestri slipped out of her home, clutching whatever things she thought she would need in her travels and using her veil to help with her disguise. That man is an insufferable bore! And he's so old! He can marry someone else.

Amestri left Memnon, northwards, into nearby Tethyr and perhaps her destiny.

Firavel was born to a young elven courtesan and raised in the temple of Callistra. He didn't have a bad childhood and he was raised well, his mother even giving him his dead father's curve blade, but still he turned to thievery. He generally stuck to those who could afford it, and never resorted to thuggery (where was the skill in that?). It was less for the monetary gain, than for the thrill of the hunt. He would get caught now and again, but paid his dues, whether through a prison sentence or a fine, and went back to it trying to better his previous score.

It was many years ago when Firavel saw a young man, a new professor at Liepstadt University, carrying a golden statue poorly covered in a cloth into the university. Firavel trailed him to his office and then left, casing the area. He had never thought of trying to break into the university, but with a score like that, he would make the effort. Breaking into the university and stalking through its halls was challenging but he made it to the young professor's office without incident. The statue was there, sitting unattended on the desk, and he easily swiped it, tossed it into a bag, and fled the scene.

Back at his room at the inn, Fir looked in the sack and took out the statue, so that he could better admire his ill-gotten gains.

"It is a nice piece isn't it?" said a voice behind him.

Firavel spun around, his hands reaching for his weapons. There was the professor, leaning against the door.

"No need, I'm not here for a fight."

"What do you want then?" Firavel said, his eyes shifting back and forth, looking both for other people as well as for a way out.

"Well, frankly, I want the statue back. You did such a fine job stealing it... well, maybe it was just my carelessness rather than your skill at burglary. Normally I would let it pass, but I'm afraid that specific piece is a little too dangerous to be out in the general public."

"Dangerous?" Fir asked, eying the golden statue incredulously. "This?"

"Oh, most definitely. It is said that there is a rather horrible curse upon it. No need to go into the grisly details. And don't worry," the young professor said as he noticed Firavel's distress, "you're still safe... for now. I tell you what, as a favor to you, I will take that off your hands, I will not call the city watch, and I will pay you gold for your troubles. How does that sound?"

Firavel licked his lips, "What's the catch?"

"Well, you'd owe me of course. At some point, I'll come to you for a favor, and you will follow through. As you can see, it's not all that hard for me to find you, Lorrimor said with a smile. Or... if you prefer, I can call the watch..."

"No! No... I agree. A favor for a favor"

The professor smiled, "Good, my name's Lorrimor by the way, Petros Lorrimor. I'll keep in touch," and left with the statue. The years passed and Firavel kept looking over his shoulder wondering, waiting for when the professor would finally call in his favor. He would have thought nothing of it and in fact he had forgotten all about it until a year after the agreement, when he found a note on his door, in a different inn and a different city, with Lorrimor's seal upon it. In fact, every year, on the anniversary of their meeting, no matter where he was or what he was doing, Fir would find a sealed letter from Lorrimor.

Firavel tried to make a game of it, travelling randomly, and changing his routine, but it was still taxing. The last time he even broke into and spent the night in the home of a noble family. While sneaking around exploring, he opened a jewelry box and found... a letter with Lorrimor's seal upon it.

In shock he fell back, tripping over a nearby chair and falling over, causing enough noise to awaken the inhabitants. He was caught by the nobleman's guards. Rather than calling the watch, however, the nobleman tossed him out of his house along with that letter, the letter telling him that the favor would be paid in Ravengro.