Post/Author/DateTime	Post
jean-jacques 02-15-06, 11:48 PM	God! Only God could know how he had found himself in this situation. All these oddities had only begun about two months ago. Averting his eyes from the grisly scene before him, he slowly made his way to the small stream about fifty feet away from where he found himself now. Ripping a piece off the arm of his tunic, what was left of his tunic anyways, he bundled it into a ball and dipped it into the cool swirling waters of the stream. As he began to slowly and arduously clean the dried blood off his body, he cleaned out the few cuts and scrapes around his body and he began to realize that most of the dried blood didn't belong to him at all. Some of it was indeed elven as it had a different strange taste, which for some reason beyond his comprehension actually appealed to him. The blood was dry in some parts and surprisingly fresh in others. Losing himself in the task of cleaning off the blood he let his mind wander and began to day dream with the help of the gentle gurgle of the stream, soothing his mind into a state of relaxation he had lacked for the past few weeks. Dreaming of nothing in particular at first he began to recall the series of events that had led him to this point in his life, one event in particular. The event he would never forget. Changing his destiny forever. Stern trumped through the knee-deep bog he now found himself in. It was the second day he was spending in this unpleasant area, led by someone who he had once considered a competent lieutenant. Jean-Jacques, lieutenant of Uldrik the leader of the Ravens of the Storm had taken Stern and two others with him on a simple mission to a small hamlet in the mountains. The mission was easily accomplished and the four of them had made short work of the marauding orc raiders who had been plundering the small hamlet. They had been given the promised price for the job and simply had to return to the Ravens of the Storm campsite, which was only a couple of days by horse from the small hamlet. Jean-Jacques had different plans as he had apparently heard of a good short cut for the four f them to take back to camp from a villager of the hamlet. Thinking nothing of it Stern and the others went along with it. It had now been three days and Stern had seen two men die; men he had learned to call friends while working for the Ravens of the Storm. One man had drowned after falling into a deep part of the swamp he now walked through. All they could do was watch him drown as Jean-Jacques warned them they might suffer the same fate if they attempted to aid him. At this point Stern lost respect for the man, lieutenant or not, you don’t leave a man to die without even trying to save him. The other man had died right before Stern and Jean-Jacques. They could do nothing as a creature from nightmares untold leapt from a cave Jean-Jacques had instructed the man to sweep to see if it was safe to set camp in. The creature tore at the man’s throat, but even after Jean-Jacques and Stern had managed to slash and kill the creature the man died lying in a pool of his own blood in an unknown swamp never to enjoy life again. At this point Stern wanted nothing more then to get the hell out of the swamp, but Jean-Jacques was quick to mention that it was night fall and to continue in the swamp without shelter in the dark was suicide. Giving into the more experienced man’s words Stern agreed. Both decided to take a closer look at the creature that’d killed their companion only moments ago. The creature they’d fought tooth and nail was nowhere to be seen. Odd as it was they didn’t want to stick around to see where it had gone. Motioning to a small opening further ahead Jean-Jacques suggested they check it out, as it was the only visible place they could go besides the cave, which they both agreed, was not an option. Approaching the opening they both peered in. The opening was nothing more then a foxhole by the looks of it, but without a good light source they couldn’t see how far down it went or notice if it got bigger towards the bottom. Jean-Jacques suggested Stern go in and check it out while he watched to see if the creature returned. Not about to be a fool Stern disagreed and thought Jean-Jacques should be the one to go in and suggested he could watch for anything approaching. Becoming angered Jean-Jacques lost it. Fuming about Stern questioning his authority, Jean-Jacques demanded he at least take a better look. Stern wary of Jean-Jacques still didn’t like the idea of being in the middle of an unknown swamp with nobody to back him up decided taking a further peek into the hole by putting his head in a more wouldn’t hurt anything and would calm Jean-Jacques down and allow them to get on with things. Getting on his knees and slowly moving his head into the foxhole entrance to get a better look Stern looked back to see what Jean-Jacques reaction was. Slowly as he turned his head Stern saw the last thing before entering darkness both in reality and figuratively. Jean-Jacques’ boot thrusting Stern face first into the unknown depths of the hole before him. The last thing he heard as he plummeted a dozen or so feet being: “Nobody screws with me mon ami, nobody.” With those last words Stern barely was able to lift his head from the rancid water at the bottom of the hole he’d been pushed into. He heard a crunching sound and a dull thud as he realized the only way had been sealed off by one of the rocks beside the small hole. Cursing Jean-Jacques, Stern began to get his bearings and start to feel around. Catching a wall with his hands he was able to pull himself to his feet. Trying to accustom himself to his surroundings Stern became aware of two things. The first being he couldn’t see a thing no matter how much he tried and the second being an overwhelming smell of blood, fresh blood. It happened in a matter of seconds. He felt himself being tackled, he felt himself being overwhelmed and then he felt teeth tearing into his flesh. Instinctively he reached for the easiest to reach weapon at hand. This happened to be an unassuming dagger he’d gotten as a gift from an old childhood friend. In all of an instant he could feel himself losing consciousness as the creature continued to bite at him, but not being one to go out without a fight he thrust the small dagger towards the creature he now fought with for his life. The creature stiffened as Stern continuously jabbed at what he only assumed to be the abdomen of the creature. Stern slipped into a state of unconsciousness knowing at least he was safe, safe as someone with profuse bleeding trapped in a hole could be anyways. Hours or maybe even days later Stern awoke. He had changed however. He had no idea how, good luck perhaps, but he had. He could see quite clearly around him, not to mention his sense of smell and his hearing at improved immensely as well. Looking around remembering the situation he had found himself in before he noticed the heap of something in front of him. The creature wasn’t a creature it was an unkempt man. He was sure it had to have had fangs, but checking it, it had none. Looking closer though he knew it was the thing that had attacked him as his dagger was protruding from the man’s chest, right up to the handle. Slightly bewildered and incredibly confused Stern turned and realized he had no way out, but the one he had come from. Amazingly he found he could climb with incredible ease even though the surface had seemed sheer hours or days ago whatever time had passed anyways. Getting to the top he was able to move the boulder aside with surprising ease. Battered and still bleeding Stern had only one thought on his mind. Revenge on Jean-Jacques. The man who’d left him for dead. The man whose days were now numbered. Blinking back into reality Stern realized that at this point any blood left on him was more then likely from consistently scrubbing the same area over and over again. Tossing the rolled up piece of tunic onto a nearby elf’s body, Stern began to look about for clothing that wasn’t badly damaged and that would fit his slightly larger physique. Finding a suitable set of clothing Stern changed and then began the difficult process of collecting the elves he had once been dear friends with. Early on in life Stern and his good friend Caws had befriended this small community of elves. The elves of Renarolys had always been kind to both of them even though they were humans. Thinking more about it Stern started to remember the parts of his childhood, things he would never forget and a person he’d always consider his close friend. Someone he was afraid he might never find now, after so many months of searching. His friend Caws had been his friend almost as their mothers always said from birth. Born on the same day near the Summer solstice Caws and Stern had grown up as playmates and best friends. Everyone considered their friendship bizarre, but what did they know anyways. Caws had always been patient, kind, and had a flair for the arts as everyone witnessed in his meticulous and wonderful carvings. Stern as most people were aware of was hotheaded, rash and unlike Caws had a talent for something much different. Stern was much like his father before him gifted with an ability to fight, which when coupled with his hot head got him into a lot of trouble early on in his life. The elves had taken to calling Stern and Caws: Korathla and Fisathia. In elven these names signified the black of night and the light of day. Many believed them to be bi-polar opposites and a great example of how opposites attract each other. Over the years Stern had grown bored of the small village life and after many years decided to travel abroad and make his fortune with his sword arm. Caws was sad to see him go and wished he could stay, but understood the wanderlust that had struck his friend. Promising that he would one day return to see his good friend Caws, Stern left carrying little, but high hopes and the silver dagger Caws had given him to remember him by. Piling the bodies up in short order Stern or Korathla as he now preferred being called went back to the stream to wash the blood of the elves off one last time. Looking into the swirling water he saw a shadow of the man he had once been. He looked like himself, but small things had changed. He no longer had the same easy going joie de vivre about him, his eyes were sunken and he had started to grow facial hair at an alarming rate. Disregarding this he went back to the task at hand. Taking a fallen branch he stuck the tip in the diminishing coals of a nearby fire allowing the tip of the branch to catch fire. Taking this fire he walked over with a small amount of sorrow and lit the hastily erected burial pyre he’d constructed. With a small tear in his eye and a sorrow in his heart he turned from the woods of the elves of Renarolys never to return again. Having no idea where his good friend Caws could be and not having anything more then revenge driving him Stern soon reached the destination he had worked hard to find. The city of Belisar lay before him. The city was vast and night was falling. Looking at the city gates, Stern saw the full moon in the sky. His vision began to blur and just like the night he had gone to see the elves his vision began to turn a scarlet red. Falling to his knees not far from the gates Stern only hoped there was nobody around this time.
jean-jacques 02-16-06, 03:09 PM	No comments... aaaa. darn it i thought it was an interesting background idea. Does anyone have any input or comments? Another thing id like to ask. story wise does it make more sense for him to be a level one fighter or barbarian or ranger. He is already the equivalent of a 3rd level character as an afflicted were rat and the game only allows for level 4 as a limit. So any opinions on what martial class to pursue?
Grizzled Gryphon 02-17-06, 06:02 AM	I thought it was a very good story. Very nice background, even if I would have added some mundane things, like family and friends, hobbies, and whatnot. But, those aren't the meat of it, anyway, os it isn't really important. All in all, very nice, indeed. As for Class, definetely fighter. A barbar or ranger wouldn't have cared about being in a swamp, and your guy here certainly did. Even so, you could be either ranger or barbarian, that just doesn't like swamps. But, from your story, he seemed very put out in a wilderness setting, and that doesn't really fit either the barbarian or the ranger, both being outdoorsy types. Even a rogue or swashbuckler aren't out of the question, either. All in all, it is still pretty open to you as to what calss you want to go with. Be warned, however, that haveing the template really restricts your hit points. You will only have level one hit points, while a regular human fighter of the same ECL will have four levels of hit points, and I have found this to be a serious liability in the past. not so much at higher levels, but certainly bad at low levels. Lets say you have a 14 con. that means you start as a fighter with 12 hit points. Your average wizard at 4th level with no con bonus will have 10. Your average fighter at 4th level with a 14 con will have 33. You might be better off not being a front line fighter. Just something to think about.
jean-jacques 02-17-06, 08:56 AM	Yes while i was thinking about the other classes, fighter made the most sense to me as well. Thanks for the input! The hit points were a bit of a concern for me at first, but as a first level fighter i gain full hitpoints with the con mod, but as well being a were rat you gain a racial hit dice for animal (a d8 plus con mod) its not so bad after that giving the character somewhere between 17-20 hit points coupled with the lycanthrope afflicted damage reduction of 5/silver makes me not a entirely worried.
Morka 02-17-06, 03:51 PM	A really nice story. You describe well the strange compulsion that force you to kill the elves who were formerly your friends. As for the class, were-rats make excellent rogues.