Post/Author/DateTime	Post
Lurkalot 09-03-04, 02:59 PM	Hi, I posted to a thread during the changeover and now it's gone. Big surprise, but now I can't find the original thread to repost. And it was my first ever post too. :weep: So if no-one minds, I've restarted the thread as I remember it, a place where we can post NPCs that can be dropped into an Eberron game. Maybe the original thread is still out there, but search is disabled at the mo. Anyway - here's my first contribution. Beware the stats, my calculations are usually wrong. ;)
Lurkalot 09-03-04, 03:02 PM	Lord Aidan fidgetted nervously in the cane chair. His manservant had been instructed to extinguish the lantern and leave, leaving the nobleman alone in the middle of a darkened room. He heard a tread on the carpet, light - an elf or a woman - and then jumped as something brushed his face. 'Hold still,' she said, 'I need to learn your features.' The fingers touched him again, working around his jaw, nose, the shape of his head. There was a cool dryness to their skin, as if they themselves were stone. His neck tingled, as she stroked the nape and the throat. Finally, after going over areas repeatedly, he felt her withdraw from him. He heard the tools being picked up and the tapping of a chisel on marble could then be heard. But every now and then, the tapping would stop and then those invisible, delicate hands would explore his face again. In the aftermath of the Last War, Brellish society has gone through many changes, not the least being the fortunes made by clever speculators and successful industrialists. Having money, but lacking pedigree, there are many who seek ways to gain respectability and express their wealth. The surge in demand for works of art and architecture is part of this and has made Breland a gold-mine for people of talent. And also sometimes, those who are not exactly people. The mysterious sculptress known as Margarite, is one of the most demanded artists in Breland. Not only is her work greatly prized (and valued), but she is a source of pride to the Brelish who see her adding a respectable degree of sophistication to a nation that remains largely agro-industrial. If her true nature (and her origin in Droaam) were to become public, then it would be scandel that would rock Breland's upper classes considerably. The sculptress, who works by touch and only in a lightless environment, accepts commisions from Breland's wealthy and has in fact produced busts of two of King Boranel's children. This lavish patronage enables her to maintain chambers in the upper levels of Sharn, near the skyway. The most popular rumours are that she remains hidden because she is herself a noblewoman, who wishes to preserve her anonymity, or that she is blind and will not allow others an advantage over her. Despite her eccentricity as the Brelish see it, Margarite does have an active social calendar. She often entertains guests, usually individually, in her chambers - they seated on one side of a painted screen, she on the other. She is a skilled conversationalist and an even more gifted listener. Her social circle includes many of Breland's wealthiest and most powerful citizens and they have often let slip more than they realized to someone who they see as 'merely an artist.' Surprisingly, or not, Margarite is not short of suitors. Her current companion is a minor (but handsome) member of house Cannith who has been subjected to endless curiousity as to her appearance, but has revealed nothing. This latter is unsurprising as, although he knows her true nature, to reveal it would be the ruin of them both. Maragresh Female medusa, Expert 4: CR 8; Medium humaniod; HD 6d6 plus 4d6; hp 36; Init +2; Spd 30 ft,; AC 15 (+2 Dex, +3 natural), touch 12, flat-footed 13 Base Atk +6/+6; Atk Melee(1d4/X2, Dagger); SA Petrification, Poison; SQ Darkvision 60'; AL NE; Fort +3, Ref +8, Will +11; Str 9 Dex 15 Con 9 Int 13 Wis 14 Cha 16. Skills and Feats: Appraise +8, Bluff +9, Craft (sculpture) +14, Craft (Painting) +8, Diplomacy +4, Disguise +13 (+12 acting), Forgery +5, Intimidate +4, Knowlege (Local) +4, Knowledge (Nobility) +4, Knowledge (Dungeoneering), Move Silently +8, Ride +2, Sense Motive +9, Spot +8, Survival +4 Languages: Speak Language Common, Daelkyr, Giant, Gnoll, Undercommon Adventure Ideas A work of art commisioned from Margarite, is stolen from a nobleman's house the night of its unveiling. The PCs are hired to recover it. This can be a good basic way to introduce Margarite. Another young man has gone missing. Alain d'Cannith disappeard three weeks ago, and his relatives are now extremely worried. He had recently been paying many calls on Margarite. Did she just tire of another beau, or does she hire the PCs themselves to investigate, for fear that her secret is no longer safe? Margarite would make an interesting patron for the party. A prominent Brelish nobleman, hitherto vehemently opposed to recognizing Droaam as a nation, has suddenly become more moderate. Has someone gained a hold over him, and if so what?
Saurenda 09-03-04, 06:59 PM	Razor darted around the corner as quickly as his warforged feet would allow. Those damn humans, what did they want from him? Voices rang out around him in the tower's alleyway. "In the name of Cyre, prepare yourself!" "Where is your Lord of Blades now little 'forged?" "Back to the scrap heap..." Three feminine forms leap out of the darkness above him, falling gracefully onto thier feet despite the distance unharmed. They stood menacingly before him brandishing a staff, a harp, and a wand. "I don't know what you crazy fleshbags are saying! I don't know any 'Lord of Blades', and your going to get yourselves arrested for harassment!" The smallest female human was the one to start aiming her wand at the head of the warforged. He slip behind the corner of the alley way as the wand's spell hit the side of the building. He ran outward onto the Stone brdige connecting the tower with the Watch's Headquarters. If he made it there he could appeal for an officer of the watch to make these humans stop. He had done nothing, and now he was being chased from the streets he normally walked beign accused of nonsense by vigalentes. A shadowy form stood in front of his path and blocked him. "Now what?! Out of my way human!" "That's no way to speak to your fellow citizen," he said revealing himself. His tall compuser, and longsword at the ready. "I'm warning you, move!" Razor charged ahead, ready to push the young male human off the bridge. The boy didn't budge, instead he raised his sword and prepared to cut across the warforged as he charged past. At the last second Razor jumped down, and fell onto the street below connecting Watch HQ with another tower. A loud crash was heard as surrounding people who were walking into House Ghallandra screamed and parted. Razor ran forward and broke open the doors of the Watch HQ causing more of a rukus. "Well that was pointless," the young man said sheathign his sword. "If you keep scaring them like this they'll all run for the Watch and we'll never manage anything outside a harassment fine Alana." The tallest of the three women help her chin up high and drew her staff closer. "Dani we aren't going to get any closer to ridding Sharn of these metal menaces any sooner if we keep showing them a mericful alterntive." The second tallest spoke restringing her harp, "But with our own turns against the law it's a wonder Dolom hasn't thrown us out from the tallest tower in Sharn. Sometimes I wish there was a better was to go about this, perhaps Dani is right. Not all warforged are in league with the Lord of Blades?" Alana snorted tightening the blue cord around his silk dress. "There is nothing for them Bethane. They are horid killing machines that do not stop until everythign is dead, they even fight each other." "But then again in that sense they are very humanlike and remind me of the humans who created them," the smallest of the girls spoke. "Cecilia don't compare yourself to Cannith South. All those bastards and thier damn Xen 'drik technologies. Nothign else matters to them, not even human life." "We all worry about oyu Alana," Dani spoke laying a metal gloves on his sister's shoulder. "And I worry about the safety of the people here. Come on everyone. If we're lucky we may be able to catch one or two trying to make it to the Mason Tower for repairs. Cecilia, you know the drill." "Right pretend to do a check and lock them in so they can't run. I'm telling you though sooner or later your going to get me fired, dragonmark or not dragonmark if they know Warforged checked in with me for repairs keep disappearing." When the incident of Cyre was said and done it left hundred homeless. Alana, Bethane, Cecilia, and Dani are oprhens of Cyre. Not orphens int he sense that they no longer have or have had parents, but in the sense that thier home was destroyed. It happened while they were visiting a relative in Wroat, and they have never forgotten the time of day, or what they were doing when they heard cyre was gone. Alana took this the hardest. She has been looking for a scape goat, and with the rumors of a Lord of Blades and his minions terrorizing people from her former homeland is all she needs to stalk them at night. She makes her way as a student of wizardy under her father and the other adepts and wizards of the spire. Alana Sigmund Female Human Wizard(Abjurer) 3: CR 3; Medium humaniod; HD 3d4; hp 8; Init +2; Spd 30 ft,; AC 12 (+2 Dex), touch 12, flat-footed 10 Base Atk +1; Atk Melee(1d6/X2, Staff);AL CG; Fort +1, Ref +3, Will +5; Str 9 Dex 15 Con 10 Int 16 Wis 14 Cha 12. Skills and Feats: Improved Counter Spelling, Spell Focus[Abjuration], Greater Spell Focus[Abjuration] SpellCraft Decipher Script Alana'a father, a teacher at Sharn's arcane studies spire invited her and his remaining daughters to live with him after the tragedy. His second daughter, Bethane is gifted with music and often sings laments for Cyre on the Streets of Sharn. Bethane Sigmund Female Human Bard 6: CR 6; Medium humaniod; HD 6d6; hp 21; Init +2; Spd 30 ft,; AC 15 (+2 Dex), touch 12, flat-footed 13 Base Atk +1; Atk Melee(1d6/X2, Shortsword);AL CG; Fort +1, Ref +5, Will +4; Str 10 Dex 15 Con 10 Int 11 Wis 12 Cha 16. Skills and Feats: Haunting Music, Lightning Reflexes, Skill Focus[Perform: Strings] In the Mason Tower of House Cannith Cecilia Sigmund makes her trade by her birthmark and skills. As an artificer of House Cannith she makes her living repairs and desgining new inventions. She volunteers to repiair warforged patrons. Stranglely, however; her last subject did not check out. She assures the secretaries that he was merely absent minded and in a rush to leave with his adventuring party. Cecilia Sigmund Female Human Artificer 5 CR 5; Medium humaniod; HD 5d6; hp 18; Init +2; Spd 30 ft,; AC 15 (+2 Dex), touch 12, flat-footed 13 Base Atk +1; Atk Melee(1d8/X2, Mace);AL LE; Fort +1, Ref +1, Will +5; Str 9 Dex 15 Con 10 Int 14 Wis 13 Cha 16. Feats and Skills: Lesser Dragonmark, Skill Focus[UMD], Execptional Artisan Dani, a newly adopted brother was found in the area that is now known as New Cyre. Alana often takes care of him and lectures him. She never lets him out of her sight fully and loves his company despite his arguments. They are not sure wether Dani is a true orphen, or that he simply cannot remember his origin. He is extremely friendly and loves conversing. Dani Sigmund Fighter 2 CR 2; HD 2d10 hp 15; Init +2; Spd 30 ft; AC 18 (+2 Dex), touch 12, flat-footed 16 Base Atk +2; Atk Melee(2d6/X2, Greatsword);AL LG; Fort +3, Ref +0, Will +0; Str 16 Dex 15 Con 14 Int 13 Wis 12 Cha 11. Skills and feats: Weapon Focus [Great Sword], Blind fighting, Power Attack, Combat Expertise Adventure Ideas: If there is a heroic, or charismatic warforged in your party chances are Alana has already planned to kill them, regardless of thier achievements. She will attack either when her sister is servicing them, or when the party is asleep and the warforged is about the town. She has so far eluded Dolom, although he has brought her in for suspicion of warforge slaughter and she has paid multiple fines. Her father does not comment on her behavior. When it comes down to picking up scum on the streets who beat down humans, or have sold thier fighting prowess to ciminal organizations Dani takes the inniative. Often sympathetic toward good warforge members he is at argument with his older sister Alana. Dani often walks the streets outside of Mason Tower and gets to know the warforge of Sharn. Many regard him as a good friend, and trust him. He often hints when Alana is in a mood and convinces Cecilia not to carry out thier sister's will. Often he will sit with a warforge he likes and converse with them for a time while they are being repaired. He feels sorry for how long it takes to repair thier bodies, and often coaxes his younger sister Cecilia to repair them magically with her mark or her prowess. Bethane will often sing her songs over nearby districts of the Mason Tower. She is always on the look out for adventurers who have been by way of the Mournlands and often buy trinkets from them that she collects. Her Bardic Lore skills allow her to envision Cyre as it was and listening to her stories can inpire adventures in the Mournlands.
Lurkalot 09-19-04, 04:33 AM	Wow Saurenda, way to top my post. ;) Okay, a team collection of NPCs from me, too. Here's something to frighten the players - I hope some DMs out there will find this useful if they suddenly need a small army. As always, double check the statblocks 'cause I don't know what I'm doing. I give you - The Red Thorns
Lurkalot 09-19-04, 04:40 AM	Diana awoke concussed and thirsty. Her skin prickled from the heat of a bonfire that blazed in front of her. Lifting her head slightly, she saw the carcass of a bear nearby - most of the edible parts gone and probably accounting for the smell of underdone meat in the air. The last thing she remembered was galloping through the night trying to get away from the - 'oh merciful Aureon,' she murmured as she spotted a dismembered hoof blackening in the fire, 'not Zephyr.' She stifled her sob when she heard goblin voices nearby. And then she became aware of a hideous barking in the background - like dogs trying to speak. Instinctively she reached behind her to check for her harp. She felt a tiny moment of relief as it seemed present and whole. Suddenly the voices stopped - they'd realized she was awake - and unkind hands were pulling her upright and turning her towards them. A skin of some sweet wine was forced between her lips and she was made to drink. Spluttering, she gazed out into the circle of firelight at her captors. A few goblins squatted in front of her, their rusty-red skin glowing in the blaze, and also, not far away, stood, sat and sprawled a pack of gnolls, black-furred with white markings - whether natural or dyed she couldn't tell. Their yellow eyes watched her hungrily and their tongues lolled. And then most horrible of all came the sound of heavy footsteps and out of the shadows strode one great stooping figure after another. Primitive faces the size of dinner-plates gawped down at her, as if confused by someone being so small. One of them dropped a handfall of small brown shapes into the light. As they wriggled on the ground she realized that they were the cubs of the eaten bear. Her stomach turned as an ogre speared one and lifted it to the fire to roast. Only dimly did she finally realize that the largest of the ogres, a hideous brute covered in thin, twisting tattoos, was pointing at her and talking. But she couldn't understand the words. A goblin chuckled and said in perfect common, "he wants you to play something." Diana grabbed her harp eagerly, desperate to please, to live. "I'd play something cheerful if I were you," said the same goblin, one with a grim scar across its throat. She looked out at the monstrous band, the chuckling goblins, the gnolls biting and tumbling and rutting with each other and the ugly thick-witted faces of the ogres grinning down at her. 'Something cheerful,' she repeated numbly. The Thorns are a mercenary band from Droaam and their happy to work for the highest bidder against any enemy save for Droaam itself. One month they might be fighting against you and the next fighting with you. And it's not as easy as you might think to say which is worst. Their numbers vary as attrition takes its toll and according to the whims of the Hags that rule Droaam and occasionally deign to send reinforcements for their ragged band. At present, their complement is twelve ogres, thirty-two gnolls and five goblins mounted on Worgs. As an elite irregular strike force, the Thorns can easily tip the balance in an military endeavor. The members of the Thorns typically have little sympathy for the common races of man and dwarf and this lends well to savage tactics such as targeting enemy towns and villages to draw back military forces or disrupt supply lines. As a relatively small warband, the Thorns are able to slip past the enemy lines and harry them from unexpected quarters. That said, they are more than capable of doing serious damage to an enemy force in direct warfare before they are beaten back. The goblins, mounted on their worgs, operate as scouts, both tracking the enemy and warning of their approach. They are able to cover ground rapidly and have keen senses. The ogres are the bloody heart of the band and with their ability to absorb massive punishment and deal damage they can smash thruogh most enemies. The gnolls provide both ranged combat and a more mobile skirmishing support to the ogres' charge and smash. The Red Thorns Thorak, Male Ogre, 4th level Warrior CR 6; Large Giant; HD8d8+27; hp 64; Init -1; Spd 30ft., AC 20; touch 8, flat footed 20; Base Atk +7 Grp +18, Melee + 14 (Greataxe 3d6+10); Full Attack + 14 (Greataxe 3d6+10); SQ Darkvision 60ft, Low Light Vision; AL NE; SV Fort+11, Ref +1; Will +2; Str 25, Dex 8, Con 16, Int 8, Wis 10, Cha 8 Skills and Feats: Climb +5, Listen +2, Spot +2; Toughness, Weapon Focus (Greataxe), Power Attack Languages: Giant, Goblin, Possessions: Large GreatAxe +1, Large Half-Plate, Potion of Cure Moderate Wounds (x4) A brutal hulk whose scarred trunk and limbs are further disfigured by crude red tattoos that weave their barbed pattern across his coarse skin. His dark hair is long and bristling like horse hair and he wears oversized half-plate without padding, simply lashed straight onto his monstrous body. A dark two-headed axe of obscene weight and size is carried on his back. Thorak is the ostensible leader of the Red Thorns. It is he who leads them into battle and he who claims the greatest share of the spoils. However, the fear of the Hags of Droaam has managed to drive a few simple facts into even his dull brain. Foremost of these is that he shouldn't fight against his own people, by which they mean others loyal to Droaam. Closely following this however, is that he should defer to Yaasha and Yeegul in matters of employment and tactics. And in the unlikely event that he should get any ideas, it has been impressed upon him most serverly that at least one of the two gnolls is to come back with him to Droaam. 11 Ogres; CR 3; Large Giant; HD8d8+19; hp 56, 55, 60, 48, 58, 57, 52, 67, 50, 51, 52; Init -1; Spd 30ft., AC 16; touch 8, flat footed 16; Base Atk +3 Grp +12, Melee + 8 (Greatclub 2d8+7); Full Attack + 8 (Greatclub 2d8+7); SQ Darkvision 60ft, Low Light Vision; AL NE; SV Fort+6, Ref +0; Will +1; Str 21, Dex 8, Con 15, Int 6, Wis 10, Cha 7 Skills and Feats: Climb +5, Listen +2, Spot +2; Toughness, Weapon Focus (Greatclub) Yaasha, Female Gnoll, 2nd Level Ranger CR 3; Medium Humanoid, HD4d8+4; hp 23; Init +2; Spd 30ft.; AC 17, touch 12, flat footed 15; Base Atk +3, Grp +5, Melee +5 (Scimitar 1d6/18-20x2) or shortbow +3 (1d6/x3); SQ Darkvision 60'; AL CE; SV Fort +7, Ref +5, Will +1; Str 14, Dex 14, Con 13, Int 14, Wis 13, Cha 12; Skills and Feats: Listen +2, Spot +3, Move Silently +3, Hide +3, Rapid Shot, Tracking, Point Blank Shot, Stealthy, Favoured Enemy Humanoid (Man) Yeye, Fiendish Hawk CR 1/3, Magical Beast, HD 1d8; hp 4; Init +3; Spd 60ft. (average); 17, touch 15, flat-footed 14; Base Atk +0, Grp -10, Melee +5 (Talons, 1d4-2); SQ Low Light Vision, Dark Vision 60ft, Smite Good, Fire / Cold Resistance 5, SR 5; AL CE; SV Fort +2, Ref +5, Will +2; Str 6, Dex 17, Con 10, Int 3, Wis 14, Cha 6; Skills and Feats: Listen +2, Spot +14, Languages: Gnoll. A slightly smallish gnoll at a mere 7ft., she nevertheless looks fierce. Her long brown hair is dyed with bands of red and she wears a leather pad upon her shoulder where an evil looking hawk with grey and red plumage sits. A well cared for bow is slung across her back and a scimitar hangs from her hip. There are many notches gouged into the flat of the blade, and many of them look recent. Yaasha is the most tactically minded of the Red Thorns and together with Yeegul, handles most of the negotiation with clients and the strategic thinking. Left to his own initiative, Tharok would soon run the Red Thorns into the ground with ill-chosen battles. Yaasha does not shirk battle however and leads her Gnolls with every bit as much ferocity as Yeegul. Typically however, she prefers to soften up an enemy with a few good volleys of arrows. This is followed up with the ogres and only then do the gnolls break cover to attack from the rear and flanks. Yeegul, Male Gnoll, 4th Level Warrior CR 2; Medium Humanoid, HD5d8+10; hp 33; Init +0; Spd 30ft.; AC 15, touch 10, flat footed 15; Base Atk +4, Grp +7, Melee +7 (Battleaxe 1d8+3/x3) or shortbow + 4 (1d6+2x/3); SQ Darkvision 60'; AL CE; SV Fort +7, Ref +3, Will +0; Str 17, Dex 10, Con 15, Int 12, Wis 11, Cha 8; Skills and Feats: Listen +2, Spot +3, Power Attack A hulking gnoll over eight feet tall. His fur is dyed almost entirely red, save for a dark mane that runs trom between his ears down to his tail. He wields the heavy battleaxe he carries with impressive ease. Yeegul is usually the second in command ot the Gnolls. Sometimes he's first in command, but usually Yaasha manages to keep just ahead of him in the dominance games due to her suprerior abillity to plot and play the gnolls off against each other. 30 Gnolls; CR 1; Medium Humanoid, HD2d8+2; hp 11; Init +0; Spd 30ft.; AC 15, touch 10, flat footed 15; Base Atk +1, Grp +3, Melee +3 (Battleaxe 1d8+2/x3) or shortbow +1 (1d6/x3); SQ Darkvision 60'; AL CE; SV Fort +4, Ref +0, Will +0; Str 15, Dex 10, Con 13, Int 8, Wis 11, Cha 8; Skills and Feats: Listen +2, Spot +3, Power Attack All of these Gnolls are armed with bows and prefer to use them prior to melee when possible. 5 Goblins, Rogue 1 on Worg Mounts. Goblin Scouts; CR 1; HD 1d8; hp 8, 6, 7, 6, 7; AC 15; Init +2; Spd 30ft., AC 16, touch 13, flat-footed 14; Base Atk +1, Grp -3, Melee + 2 (short sword 1d4 - 19-20/x2); SQ Darkvision 60ft.; SV Fort +3, Ref +4, Will -1; Str 11, Dex 13, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 9, Cha 6 Skills and Feats: Hide +5, Listen +2, Move Silently +5, Ride +4, Spot +2, Sneak attack +1d6, trapfinding Worg Mounts; CR 2; HD 4D10+8; hp 30, 28, 32, 35, 30; AC 14, touch 12, flat-footed 12; Base Atk +4, Grp +7, Melee +7 (Bite 1d6+4); SA Trip; SQ Darkvision 60ft., Low Light Vision, Scent; SV Fort +6, Ref +6, Will +3; Str 17, Dex 15, Con 15, Int 6, Wis 14, Cha 10; Skills and Feats: Hide +4, Listen +6, Move Silently +6, Spot +6, Survival +2, Alertness, Track A wolf, dark grey, streaked with black and easily large and powerful enough to run with the goblin mounted on its back. An evil intelligence shows in its yellow eyes as they flicker to your throat. Rider and mount alike lick their lips in anticipation of your blood. The goblins scout wide and make sure that the Thorns are always well informed about encroaching enemies. With their scent, their speed and great stealth, little can remain hidden from them for long. Adventure Ideas: Note: The Red Thorns are very much an elite fighting force, above the common run of soldiery. Their role in an adventure should reflect this and they are more suited as a threat to most PCs than as something to be overcome in combat. Remember, they are a military force and fight as such. The PCs wont be able to pick and choose which ones they want to fight first. A valuable magical item has been unearthed in a neighbouring kingdom and the PCs are hired to retrieve it. They are not the only ones however. In addition to the existing challenges to overcome, they become aware that a rival to their patron has hired his own group, one that is more than capable of doing the job if the PCs don't make it there first. And if they do, they still have to avoid those who would take it from them before they can return to civilization. In this game, a mounted goblin isn't a minor threat to be dispatched, but a scout that could spell the very end of them if he alerts the rest of the warband. An initial near miss or the discovery of the Thorn's previous work (e.g. plundered trade caravan with near-dead a survivor) can serve to warn the PCs what is out there. Did Allana d'Deneith, Illusionist and dragonmark heir, pay the Red Thorns to raid a Brellish trade caravan to the Shadow Marches? And if so, was it to undermine confidence in House Tharashk's ability to maintain order in the region, maybe in revenge for the half-orcs stealing away a lucrative security contract? And supposing, just supposing that she did, could the PCs get the letter of credit from the Thorns and somehow prove that it was issued by her? Victory is near and the PC's enemy is nearly run to ground. And then he does something most unsporting and uses his wealth to hire additional muscle. Perhaps the PCs are in the final days of pursuit when the villain bolts for the wilderness where he knows he can find support for sale; or maybe he has hithrto unknown allies in Droaam. In any case, it seems the PCs are up against more than they realized and suddenly everything is hanging in the balance once again.
JohnnyONeal 09-19-04, 10:00 AM	I like this thread. Keep up the good work!
Saurenda 09-19-04, 12:42 PM	Oh dear god....it is gonna be hard to top that one.
Lurkalot 10-04-04, 12:33 PM	Hi, I'm returning to one character for my next contribution. I hope someone out there uses this, or at least gets some inspiration. All I have to say about the character is that it pretty much just came together without any real thought whatsoever, and all the adventure ideas just seemed to stem naturally from the concept. It's nice when that happens. Although it might be tricky to get the full backstory to the players, I find they can tell when it's there. It makes the role-playing that much more real. Also, changelings rock.
Lurkalot 10-04-04, 12:43 PM	The Bound Knight. 968 YK Lady Ana rubbed tired rheumy eyes. She was exhausted. The sound of a baby squalling echoed down the stone passages of her house. Would they never stop? An older child, thirteen or fourteen, lucky not to have been drafted to fight already, came running up to her. “Another refugee,” he said simply. She sighed deeply and followed him to the entrance hall of what, until she began taking in those who'd lost their families in the war, had been her manor house. There at the entrance stood her young daughter Orpheia cradling a bundle of swaddling in her arms, her face creased with a dark frown. Ana thought she understood her meaning – someone had seen fit to abandon a child with them that they couldn't look after. And then her daughter twitched aside the grubby cloth and showed her the baby's face. “Oh dear,” said Ana. The baby's milky white eyes blinked up at her from a face as pale as snow. It gazed at her for a few moments and then, perhaps in instinct, it's eyes and hair took on the shades of the motherly face looking down at it, it's skin flushing to a healthy tan. “Oh dear,” said Ana once again, as the baby gurgled happily. 982 YK “Stop it,” shouted Orpheia! The tall boy with the sandy blonde hair stared at her dumbstruck then began to shift. He lost a few inches in height and his shoulders became less broad. He became much younger and his hair darkened to a lank brown which was his normal look. “But you like Thomas,” he said. “I can look just like him,” he pleaded. “It's horrible,” said the girl turning her back on him. She was eight or nine years older than him, very nearly a grown woman. “Thomas is going to be a knight,” she said proudly. “He's going to fight werewolves and... and things. It's wrong to look like other people, Niall. I shant like you if you do that and you'll never join the Silver Flame. Your soul will be wandering Eberron forever all alone.” The boy hung his head filled with shame and guilt. “I'm sorry, Orph,” he said tagging along behind her as she strode away. “I wont change again, I swear, not ever.” The boy picked up a stick and made sweeping sword swipes with it. “I'll be a knight too,” he said trying to make her smile, “I'll be the best knight there ever was.” 994 YK Seargent Othero watched the knights doing battle, all were good, but one stood out. “What's his name,” he asked the teacher? “That's Niall, Sir. I don't think we've ever had one quite like him. And a true believer.” Othero watched as the knight whirled and span through a group of students armed with wooden swords. Not one of them landed a blow. Moments later the four students were on the mat looking surprised. Othero laughed, which he rarely did these days. “Do you have any doubts about his courage,” he asked? “None,” said the teacher, “he'll follow you to Khyber if you ask.” “He'll have to,” replied Othero, his voice low. “That's where we're going.” 994 YK Niall span, his blade was a ribbon of silver. Never had he fought so hard or been so single-minded in his actions. Around him lay the corpses of some several dozen ogres and eight of his brothers in arms. Only he and Othero fought on, deep beneath the Graywall mountains. Behind him, his commander was locked in single combat with the warlord they had come to kill. The enemy fought like one possessed, but Othero might still triumph if only Niall could hold off the reinforcements. He drove his sword hilt deep into barrel torso of an opponent and was rewarded with the sight of yet more of them charging up the tunnel towards him. His arms were like lead and his strength was finally failing when he heard a inhuman cry from behind. The ogres paused in their assault and Niall risked a look behind him to see the warlord's body slipping from Othero's axe. The knight of Thrane stooped swung and then rose with the corpse's head in his gauntleted fist. In one motion he swung it to Niall who caught it and held it up before the massed ogres. As one, they drew back before the severed remains of their god, then turned and fled into the darkness. Niall walked back into the cavern to assist his commander. Together they gazed down at the body. Niall sensed something dreadful about it, something that he couldn't quite see but knew was there. And then the presence was moving withdrawing and he sensed that it was trying to hide from them. His attention was drawn to a dark broach, a khyber shard set in Mithral, that the Warlord wore. Did it now have an aura that it didn't before? Something deep within the Knight, long buried, moved him to pick up the broach and pin it to his breast. Otheron laughed. “You'll be rewarded with greater wealth than that when we return,” he said. “Why they ought to make me captain of the Knights of Thrane for this,” he added. He clapped Niall on the back, “if we make it back, that is.” “We'll make it back,” said Niall with a smile, “The evil is gone now,” he said quietly. 995 YK The sanctuary was empty in the winter. Usually it was used by monks seeking quiet for deep meditation or prayer. But being a good three days ride up the mountain from the monastary meant that most monks decided to be spiritual in the summer. Niall did not have that option however. He had to get away from others for everyone's sake. Maybe for the sake of Eberron itself. He had brought only what he needed – enough food for a couple of months, some tinder and kindling, the broach and a plate sized mirror. The snow continued to drift down outside as he positioned himself and the mirror near the fire, each gazing at the other. The broach was pinned over his heart. He could sense the evil in it, just as it could no doubt sense the good in him. He pictured the ruined villages that he and Othero and his fallen comrades had passed through. Made himself remember the bodies on the altars and the madness that had gripped the region. Something fell and terrible had been unleashed there and he couldn't bare to think of that evil here in Thrane, reaching out it's claws for his people, his church, Orpheia. He smiled as he thought of his foster sister and her husband Thomas, who'd grown up to become a farmer, and he swore silently to the Silver Flame that this evil would stop with him. He stared at the mirror and studied his face. For a frightening moment he thought that he was mad, that his memories of his childhood were some delusion, but it passed and he knew what to do. It was like looking at himself from a distance, as if Niall's whole life were nothing a game he'd played, just like he'd played at being a knight to impress Orpheia. The slight beard was first to go, melting away into his chin which softened from the stern, squared shape to a more pointed, feminine one. In the mirror, he watched his dark hair lengthen and lighten and grow fine as cobwebs while the weathered lines of his face smoothed to a pale eggshell. (S)He found her face smaller, more petite. The eyes were the last to go. For a moment, the Knight's wide horrified eyes stared out of the inhuman face in the mirror, before they lightened to a milky white with not even a trace of pupil left. The presence in the broach stirred. 'So it is aware,' thought the changeling. He felt it casting about seeking a mind, but there was not another sentience within miles of this place. Experimentally, the changeling shifted his features a little, taking on some of the bone structure of the fallen warlord. He imagined what it must be like to be that warlord, cruel, worshipped. The response from the broach was dramatic. The presence within it reached out and touched his mind, prying, seeking understanding, but not trusting. The changeling let himself take on the role more fully, attempting to feel the very soul of the warlord. A sudden realization took him as he realized he was stronger than the warlord. With the guidance in the broach, he could go further than that petty tyrant had done. His features thickened, became more masculine again, but not like the knight's that he once was. He imagined the sacrifices made to him, tried to understand how he could enjoy such barbarity, and he did understand. The changeling nature so long forgotten let him take on that other personality. He felt the entity within the broach rushing into him, bonding with him, felt it's power in his blood. There was a horrible moment of contact – a voice in his mind, and then some small part of him stepped back, distanced itself from who he was and shifted. The brave features of Sir Niall swam up out of his warping face. The expression was resolute. The entity within him shuddered and gripped his mind, struggling for control, but the knight was firm. The presence began to disengage from him, uncertain, but he grabbed it with his mind and held on. The presence shook, this was unexpected, unprecedented. It had been fought against before, shut out, but never held in. Sir Niall prayed to the Silver Flame for strength, he would not let this evil loose. He slammed the evil thoughts down deep into himself and hid them. He was Sir Niall again, the life he had always lived. He looked at the old familiar features in the mirror and smiled grimly. “I have you now, Demon,” he said to himself. “Just you and me.” Three years later, Zirrah the Gnome stared up at the stranger. The Library of Korranberg attracted many strange visitors, but there was something grim about this knight that she couldn't put her finger on. He wasn't old particularly. Indeed he looked in particularly fine shape if you liked your men over four foot tall, which Zirrah did not. But there was something weary in his eyes that seemed to carry centuries of strain. Another veteran of the Last War, she supposed. “No appointment,” she tsked? She could send him away, but a sudden feeling of sympathy stopped her. He looked so... exhausted. “Well, you're in luck. It's very quiet at the moment. What with the murders no-one seems to want to leave their houses.” Sharp eyes looked at her. “Murders?” he said. He had a clear Thranish accent. “Surely you've heard? Don't you at least read the Chronicle? People with their faces torn off, one a night, sometimes two or three. Horrible.” The knight looked at her sorrowfully. “I didn't know,” he said, “I'm sorry.” “Well, not your fault I hope,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “What was it you wanted to research.” “Demons,” he replied. “Anything about them in particular,” she asked? “How to kill them,” said the Knight. “Tell me how they die. Niall, Female Changeling, Paladin 3 / Monk 6. CR: 9; HD 3d10 + 6d8 + 18; hp 75; Init: +7; Spd 50 ft.; AC 20 (flat-footed 17); Base Atk: +7; Atk: +11 melee (1d8+4/19-20 x2 Longsword +2); Flurry of Blows: +10 / +10 melee (1d8+4/19-20 x2 Longsword +2); SA Stunning Fist, Ki Strike, Unarmed Strike Smite Evil / Smite Good 1/day*; SQ Minor Change Shape, +2 Save vs. Sleep and Charm, Aura of Good / Aura of Evil*, Still Mind, Evasion, Purity of Body, Aura of Courage / Aura of Despair*, Lay on Hands; AL LG / CE*; SV Fort +10, Ref + 9, Will + 9; Str 14, Dex 16, Con 15, Int 11, Wis 16, Cha 12. Skills and Feats: Bluff 2, Intimidate 2, Concentration 8, Knowledge (Religion) 5, Knowledge (Demons) 7, Balance 5 , Climb 4, Hide 6, Move Silently 3, Sense Motive 2, Stunning Fist, Combat Reflexes, Improved Initiative (+4), Weapon Focus (Longsword), Whirling Steel Strike, Knight Training. Languages: Common, Infernal* Possessions: Bracers of Armour +3, Longsword +2, Potion of Cure Moderate Wounds x4, Potion of Haste x2, Potion of Bull's Strength x3 *Niall's evil aligned abilities only manifest when the Demon is in control. The changeling Niall has spent most of her life as a Knight of Thrane. Nobody knows her as anything else and this is indeed how she thinks of herself. However her changeling nature, long repressed, could not be denied and when she fought against the Demon Naf, it found its release. In an attempt to stop the demon that had possessed the Warlord from finding a new host and once more wreaking havoc, Niall opened herself up to possession. Offered the powerful champion, Naf could not resist. Niall proved strong, however. Stronger than Naf could believe. And now the powerful demon is trapped within the changeling, locked into a permanent battle of wills, while his body lies senseless and helpless. It is Naf's fear, and Niall's aim, that she should find this body, and finding it, slay the demon. Until this is done, Niall dare not release the demon, dare not die and dare not let her iron control slip, lest she should become the demon's puppet. And so she seeks the demon's body, through study, legends and divinations, travelling the length and breadth of Eberron in her search. But Niall has been searching for three years now. That is three years in which she has been locked in mental combat with Naf. Although she denies it to her Knight self, the paladin monk that is loyal to Thrane, a new personality has begun to emerge. Taking on a new face, racked with violence and insanity, the Naf is breaking out. Murders follow the knight, the victims found with their faces gone, a deadly game has begun between the two sides of the changeling's divided mind. Neither fully knows what the other intends. One way or another, there has to be a winner soon. Image: Sir Niall is a tall, handsome but war-weary knight. His strong face and commanding demeanor convey a strength both material and spiritual. He carries a fine longsword at his side and bracers on his arms with a small Ebberon shard set in each, but no armour. He moves with an easy grace. Image: Naf is a fearsome sight. His face is jet black with a crimson hourglass mark down the face, reflecting the true form of the Bebbelith demon. When he moves, it is with a quick, spidery precision that seems not human somehow. Nor do the spindly limbs convey much humanity, more like an insect's impersonation of a man. His eyes are a dull yellow and his teeth black as onyx. Typically he covers himself with a dull brown travelling cloak to conceal this frightening visage and double-jointed limbs. Adventure ideas: Murders are occuring and a sense of fear is gripping the city. Nobody knows who or what the killer is, but only that he can strike anyone. The victims are found with their faces ripped away in their entirity which has made identification both difficult and traumatic. Meanwhile, a mysterious knight seems to know who the villain is, but wont tell the PCs. Why doesn't he want their help? Is he protecting the murderer, if so why? The PCs are hired to perform a strange task. They are asked to retrieve a book in the possession of a noted scholar. It is not a magical tome, but simply a history of the Graywall mountains. The owner of the book must not know that it is gone. Two nights later however, the PCs are hired to return the book, or is it a different one? In a similar fashion, perhaps interspersed with other adventures, the book resurfaces after it is sold to a mysterious knight seeking information from it. Is he about to be misled terribly by the information in the book? If so, where will it send him? Or is the fact that the PCs have become aware of the knight's search too much of a coincidence? What information or misinformation are they supposed to be passing on and for who? After more jobs, large or small, the PCs gradually become aware that they are being used in a covert and subtle game between two shadowy individuals. The end is near, Niall cannot fight against Naf any longer. Either he must die, and the demon be released to wreak havoc in Eberron once more, or else the demon's sleeping form must be found and slain. After a four year long search, Niall believes that he's finally found the demons hiding place, but doesn't know if he has the strength anymore to breach the lair and slay the fiend. And so he seeks the aid of the PCs. Naturally, the changeling dare not share his secret with them and so approaches them in disguise (easy enough) and constructs a suitable story about lost treasure. Of course, both he and Naf are following close behind the PCs, watching and alternately helping and hindering them. The PCs may wonder what is going on when they seem to have both a mysterious ally and a shadowy enemy stalking them. But this is nothing to the final battle in the demon's well-guarded lair. Can the PCs count on Niall in the final battle or will he turn on them and destroy them all? And more to the point, was the story about treasure true or not?
Saurenda 10-05-04, 01:26 PM	For my next submission I'm going to try a group of seperate Npcs in Karnnath, since my PCs are adventuring near there. It's difficult to try and pick some traits, but I do like the witch class's variant spell list. It's a shame other npcs mages liek shadow adept, mage, and some other aren't included in all Dnd campaign settings. To make the submission more the style of Eberron and trditional non supplimental Dnd, I'll restrict my use of NPCs; or better yet offer alternatives for most spellcasters as adepts is more general. The spellcaster NPC is a wonderful choice from Arcana unearthed as they can pick any spell from any list to cast spontaneously as a sorceror. Though, for Eberron such a spellcaster may generally be a Seren with sorcerous blood. Great job on the changeling. I'm gonna take my time and try and top the last two.
Atlictoatl 10-05-04, 02:00 PM	Keep 'em coming, Lurkalot. Your stuff is brilliant!
Lurkalot 10-16-04, 11:57 AM	Thanks both of you. Saurenda, when can we all see your next NPC? I've been playing with servant characters this week. Here's the first one, if I get the time, I'll type up the second of them and post it later. They're all suitable for low-level play. Even though this next one is technically quite powerful, she's meant as flavour more than as a combat opponent. She doesn't have a great deal of damage dealing ability anyway. What I will say about her is that she is directly inspired by two movies. Can anyone guess which ones? People, I give you Miss Letin.
Lurkalot 10-16-04, 12:00 PM	Rupert giggled as the quill flew straight as a quarrel and lodged in Tamsin's hair. His sister scowled at him and pulled it out ready to throw it back at him. Just as she was winding her arm back for a good throw however, the door to the classroom opened and their new teacher made her first appearance. She was not overly tall, but her pointed heels and severe dress seemed imposing to the two children. She was half-elven and her features contained the precise symetry of her elven ancestors, but blended a little softness from her human side. What softness there was though, did not extend to the mouth – her dark lips were a straight line without even the history of a smile. Indeed, the woman's figure seemed imprisoned in straight lines, from her tight, boned, topcoat buttoned at the neck, to the long black skirt that hugged her ankles. Her leather boots clicked across the floor as she stalked, straight-backed, to the front of the room. Her hair was a mass of sloe-black water, mercilessly pinned up in piles atop her head, a few rogue loops of darkness falling forward over her white face. She carried a long ebony pointer in her hand, though no board had been set up for her in the classroom. She stared at the children with dark eyes and Tamsin slowly realized that she was still holding the quill up to throw. She quickly placed it on her desk. “In this room,” said the tutor in a surprisingly soft and throaty voice, “you will learn the history of Khorvaire, Galifar and the Five Nations, their geographies and their politics.” Seeing that his sister was not going to throw her weapon and that he was ahead in their games for once, Rupert smirked and poked his tongue out at her. Instantly there was the sound of the air being cut and the boy felt something just graze his cheek. He stared at the cane resting lightly on his shoulder. “In this room,” continued the tutor, “a prince may also learn the proper way to behave.” Cold, professional, educated, strict. These are all words that spring to mind when first meeting Miss Letin. Nevertheless, there is something slightly savage about her dark looks and a dangerous streak that may become apparent to those who know her well. Of course, nobody really does know her well. Miss Letin has a secret of the darkest kind. Theleena Letin works as a tutor to children in various aristocratic households. Here she forms a part of the household staff, albeit it of a priveleged rank. Wherever she is, from Breland to Aundair, she always speaks with a perfect, although crisp accent. With a suitable Knowledge (Geography) role however, PCs may discern the trace of her native Q'barra. She conceals this to her utmost however, always claiming some land other than one the PCs are familiar with. Her demeanor to those she doesn't trust will always be brisk and controlled. For reference she trusts no-one without impressive reasons that she should. Theleena's earliest memories are always of violence, running for her life from pursuers and hiding. The sound of hoofbeats still causes her heart to race. Born and raised on the outskirts of a settlement in the Q'barran jungles, Theleena is in all probability the last of her kind. Her parents were true Lycanthropes, were-panthers. Her father was killed by Paladins of the Silver Flame when she was four after a pursuit that lasted over a year or hidng, running, assumes names and fear. Her mother was killed after another four, leaving Thel. an orphan at eight with little chance of survival. Nevertheless, the girl did survive. She was gifted, healthy and, even if wild in temperement, she learnt to apply herself with discipline to learning everything she could. It is this discipline that has preserverd her into her adult life. In addition to her knowledge, she developed through necessity the ability to deal with people, making contacts quickly in each new place she came to, the foundations of diplomacy, etiquette and social climbing. Over the years, she continued to grow into a very exceptional individual, but one who kept herself under the tightest of control. Survival has been Thel.'s priority for as long as she can remember. It is this need that has led her to take positions with Eberron's wealthiest and most powerful households. Parents will always want the best education for their children, and not a few think that Miss Letin's savage and strict manner with their spoilt brats is an added bonus. Now however, survival is not enough for her. She has a predatory nature, no matter how confined, and with access to the homes of some of Eberron's most influential, she finds that she has opportunities to not just teach history, but maybe even make it. She can learn rumours, plans and gossip from her employers, read through their documents at night, observe the comings and goings of their visitors. Not least, she has influence over their children. After years of wandering, study and groundwork, she is just starting to come into her power and realizing what might be possible. Miss [Theleena] Letin, Female Half-Elven Werepanther, Bard 2, Expert 3. CR: 6; HD 5d6 +3d8 +16; hp 44; Init: +6; Spd 30 ft.; AC 14 (flat-footed 12); Base Atk: +5; Atk: +4 melee +2 (unarmed 1d2-1); SQ Bardic Music, bardic knowledge, countersong, fascinate, inspire courage +1, Alternate Form, Lycanthropic Empathy (Panther), Low light vision, Scent; AL CN*; SV Fort +6, Ref + 11, Will + 7; Str 8 Dex 14 Con 13 Int 16 Wis 8 Cha 14 Skills and Feats: Balance +12, Bluff +6, Climb +11, Decipher Script +4, Diplomacy +6, Disguise +6, Gather Information +6, Hide +8, Jump +11, Knowledge (History) +5, Knowledge (Geography) +5, Knowledge (Warfare) +5, Knowledge (Nature) +5, Knowledge (Nobility) +5, Knowledge (Religion) +5, Listen +6, Move Silently +8, Perform +2 (Drums), Profession (teacher) +7, Sense Motive +6, Spot +6, Swim +2, Alertness, Weapons Finesse, Endurance, Improved Initiative, Run. Languages Common, Elven, Draconic, Goblin, Infernal. Panther Form; Medium Animal (shapeshifter): As above except: Init +10, Spd 40 ft., AC: 17, Touch 16, flat footed 11,; Base Atk: +5, Melee +6 (Bite, 1d6+3), +1/+1 (Claws 1d3+1); SA: Improved Grab, Pounce, Rake 1d3+1, Curse of Lycanthropy; SQ: Damage Reduction 10/Silver; Str 14 Dex 22 Con 17 Int 16 Wis 8 Cha 14. *Letin has a deep chaotic nature but acts lawful the majority of the time through an effort of will, long practiced. Nevertheless, there is always the tantalising hint about her that she is holding something back. Image: A half-elven woman head to toe in strict demure black clothing, buttoned to the neck. Her face is fine boned as an elf's but softened by the human blood. Her eyes are lined with the bare modicum of dark makeup which contrasts with the startling green irises. Her hair is a mass of sloe-black loops, fiercely stacked with a mithral pin. If out, she wears neat, lambskin gloves and a coal-black frock coat. Her demeanor is impeaccable and her posture frighteningly erect. All of which is belied by her sensual face. Image: A glossy black leopard, sleeky muscled. The jungle cat's dark fur merges with the shadows around the street lamp. Her lambent green eyes hold the spark or more than normal animal intelligence. Combat Tips: Should the worst come to the worst and violence break out, Thel. will most likely flee. If she is unmasked as a lycanthrope then all the more so as she can move with startling speed and her hitpoints should see her through a round or two. Note that in animal form with the Run feat, she can cover the ground quickly. In Sharn with it's skybridges and terrible drops, note that she should be able to clear a 20' jump relatively confidently, 30' would still be plausible. She is not meant as a combat opponent and would be loathe to reveal her true nature. That said, if she wanted to kill a PC she would be far happier doing it on her own terms when and where she chose. Adventure ideas: Miss Letin could be dropped into the middle of almost any conspiracy oriented adventure as extra colour or to serve as a help/hindrance to the PCs. Being well placed in the household(s) of powerful people, she can drop a clue to the PCs if it suits her aims, or perhaps lead their enemies to them. It all depends on her what her real motives are. She will not be well-disposed to Thrane or the Silver Flame and may cause trouble for those who align themselves with these factions. Equally, she may not be fond of Shifters, many of whom curried favour with Thrane by betraying and hunting down their Lycanthropic ancestors. But perhaps she has higher goals. The Lords of Dust are active in Q'Barra and she may be acting against their plans in her own subtle way. Equally, maybe she is just playing games on a whim. If the PCs have a powerful patron, then they may encounter her on visits to one of the patron's homes. In this case, she will certainly have learned a great deal more about them than they have about her. If the PCs are up against a truly dangerous and influential opponent, one that they dare not act against directly for either reasons of safety or legality then perhaps they find that they have an ally in the enemy's own faction. This is the sort of edge that enables them to deal with an enemy more powerful than they ordinarily could. However, can they trust her? The answer may be yes, for now. Alternately, attention could be paid to Theleena's other needs. She may well be the last of her kind and no-one knows her secret. The constant restraint is a terrible burden. It's possible that she will meet a man that she begins to trust and share her secret with him. Unfortunately, most men in Eberron would be terrified of her true nature and flee. And if they did, would she take the risk of having him out there, still knowing? Perhaps the PCs could come to his aid, or if too late, investigate his death. Or perhaps, after Miss Letin has been introduced into the campaign for some time, one of the PCs could be that man. If so, then even if he could bear that his lover was a monster they would both be in danger from her secret. In either case, bear in mind that while Theleena puts great effort into restraining her true nature, she is still a very animalistic person, driven by all the natural instincts of love, jealousy, anger and embraces her emotions in a way that most civilised people dare not. Another way of introducing her could be when the PCs need some information on history, geograhpy etc. Have an NPC mention his nehpew's tutor or some such and have the PCs seek her out. For added colour have her lecture them in front of the children or make them sit at the kiddy desks. Adding depth like this to minor characters makes the world much more real and leads to player curiousity.
Lurkalot 12-24-04, 04:00 PM	Hmmm. No response to my last posts. Well, I'll try one more character since I've written her up, and maybe someone will throw her into an adventure somewhere. Something a little different in tone from the other ones too...
Lurkalot 12-24-04, 04:01 PM	Sailors were ever the superstitious lot, and the growing storm did nothing to quiet their grumbling. First Mate Arnolf was all too aware of the increasingly mutinous talk amongst the men but had singularly failed to convince the captain it was serious. The source of all his trouble, but not he hoped the source of the darkening weather, was currently standing on the prow of the ship looking out at the coming thunderhead as if to greet it. Wrapped up in a thick cloak, concealed under a deep cowl, her determined anonymity did her few favours amongst the crew. He had half a mind to go over to her now and pull that damned hood off her himself. Reveal to the crew that she was just some wanted criminal or runaway noble's daughter and not the Khyber witch they thought. A large black tern landed on her shoulder just then, and let out a plaintive cry. She reached up a slim pale hand to stroke its dark head. As one, around him, the sailors made the sign of Dol Arrah. 'Damn how much she had paid the captain,' thought Arnolf, 'this was enough!' Just as Arnolf took his first step towards her however, the lookout called that he'd seen a sail approaching. Picked for his keen eyesight, the halfling called out an identification a minute later. “It's Bryant!” Bryant was a rising pirate captain with reputations for both ferocity and mercy in equal measure. He also owned an elemental ship meaning flight was not an option. Taken all together, the captain would have little choice but to let the crew surrender whatever cargo his ship carried in hope of their lives. When the pirate vessel arrived, Captain Mathis, fat and be-ribboned, had come out on deck ready to negotiate; though his cabin boy was still stuffing the gold and any smaller valuables into the ship's various concealed cabinets. A boarding plank was placed between the vessels and Captain Bryant, broader shouldered, narrower waisted and alltogether more dashing strode across to meet him. Two score men with crossbows guarded him from across the water. “We carry mainly grains, your lordship,” began Mathis. “On the contrary,” Bryant stopped him, “you carry a treasure beyond reckoning.” He was looking at their passenger who still stood at the prow, but had now turned to face them. To the astonishment of everyone, the captain produced a glittering broach of mithral and gold and knelt before the cloaked figure. “Come away with me, sweet maid, and be my pirate princess.” So absorbed by this extraordinary performance was everyone present, that it was without any warning that the elves landed gracefully on the deck of the two joined ships. Dropping out of the sky like hawks, they unfurled their cloaks and drew an assortment of double-ended scimitars and golden wands. “And what would you do,” said an elf in golden-red robes to the kneeling human? “Subject her to your crude passions for a decade or so, and then wither before her eyes,” he sneered. Before the captain could reply, the elf too turned to the cloaked figure and said, “Our love would last for a thousand years, my ancestors would bless us and the bards sing of us centuries from now. Only we...” “Nooooo!” Both the elf who was speaking, and the pirate captain who had drawn his sword and was advancing upon him, froze at the bestial cry. Turning in yet another direction, Arnolf saw that one of his own sailors, what was his name, was positively foaming at the mouth. When had they picked him up? Arnolf recalled only a large, quiet, older man who didn't mix well with the rest of the crew. Yet now, this man was actually enlarging, broadening in the shoulders and growing a thick mane of shaggy brown hair at a most uncanny rate. “I have not followed you all the way from the Eldeen Reaches, to let you be taken from me by these civilized (he spat the word) men. Do not be lulled by their jewels or their wizardry. Return with me to unspoilt nature and our pure druid ways.” The last words were all but lost as the man completed his transformation into a huge bear. A collective gasp from the crew drew Arnolf's attention back from the hideous transformation however. The passenger had finally drawn back her hood to reveal her face. Her lips were red, her locks were free and her hair was yellow as gold. Her eyes were dark as sloe and wide as a tiger's. And yet she was young, about fourteen or fifteen, as far as Arnolf could judge the age of a fey. She pouted perfect lips at them all and, “I have had it up to HERE, with you,” she screamed, holding one hand palm down at the height of her delicately pointed ears. “You deserve this!” She raised both hands high and threw her head back, eyes flashing. There was a... something. Arnolf blinked. He had spots in front of his eyes. “My love,” said captain Bryant squinting, “I wish you'd stop doing that.” “Oooh!” snapped the frustrated Nymph and stamped her foot on the planking. “How dare you call her your love,” said the elf raising his scimitars. A cross-bow bolt from the other ship whirred across the bows and ricocheted off the elf's shield spell. The dire druid bear roared. One of the elves dropped a fireball. Suddenly everything was flames and quarrels and noise and the next thing First Mate Arnolf knew was that he was diving overboard into the choppy brine. His mouth was full of sea water, salt stung his eyes and there were large blue bodies swimming all around him. A few yards away he saw the young nymph clinging to a dorsal fin and riding away from the chaos. He grabbed onto one of the dolphins himself and it barreled through the water after her. He didn't know if it was annoyed to have a human stuck on its back or not. With dolphins it was hard to tell. As he caught up with her, he looked across at the wet but still thoroughly lovely face, the golden tangle of hair plastered over the smooth delicate cheek bones and the large deep eyes. Her lips were slightly blue from the cold but still full and perfectly shaped. There was something fascinating and... well, fey about her. “Has this ever happened before,” he asked her? There was quite a pause before she replied. “Might have done,” she said. Fionn, Juvenile Nymph. CR: 7; HD 4d6+4; hp 18; Init: +3; Spd 30 ft., Swim 20ft.; AC 17, touch 17, flat-footed 14; Base Atk / Grapple: +2/+2; Atk: Dagger +2 melee (1d4/19-20); SA Stunning Glance, Spells, Dimension Door (1/day); SQ DR 10/Cold-iron, low-light vision, unearthly grace, wild empathy; AL CG; SV Fort +6, Ref + 11, Will + 9; Str 10 Dex 16 Con 12 Int 16 Wis 15 Cha 17 Skills and Feats: Concentration +6, Diplomacy +4, Escape Artist +8 Handle Animal +13 Heal +9 Hide +12 Listen +11 Move Silently +9 Ride +5 Sense Motive +7 Spot +8 Swim +8 Use Rope +1 (+3 with bindings) Combat Casting, Dodge Languages Common, Sylvan Druid Spells: 0 – cure minor wounds, detect magic, guidance, lght, resistance; 1st – calm animal, cure light wounds, entangle, longstrider, speak with animals,; 2nd – barkskin, heat metal, lesser restoration, tree shape,; 3rd – call lightening, cure moderate wounds, protection from energy; Note, as an immature Nymph, Fionn's HD, ability scores, skills and feats have been reduced. Additionally, she is not yet capable of making people go blind, though she can make them blink. Image: Fionn looks like a stunningly pretty young girl in her mid-teens, but there is something not quite earthly about her. It may be the too fluid way in which she moves, or the flawlessness of her complexion, incomparably without freckle, mole, or flush, or the light harmonious voice. It could be the ears that sweep back from her head like a deer's and the big liquid eyes all pupil and irises the colour of leaves in spring. When she smiles it's like the sun breaking through the clouds. When she's unhappy, she has an expression that looks like thunder sounds. Quite simply, there's little in the lands of Eberron or the planes around it that is as fun or as utterly nerve-fraying as a teenage fey. Role-playing: Don't maintain focus on anything for more than two minutes. Fionn is both highly intelligent and easily bored. She also lacks any of the things that normally restrain most human's behaviour – such as fear of disaproval, worry about the future or, to a quite disturbing extent, concern for personal safety. Whilst possessed of the inherant natural wisdom of the fey, Fionn has not developed much tact in delivering it. She's almost inevitably right, but is no respector of age or rank. Just occasionally, she throws a full-blown fey-tantrum. Dol Arrah protect any party that tries to rely on stealth if that happens. Everything in a two mile radius will be subjected to a detailed fault-finding of whoever she's annoyed with. Background: Fionn is a native of Thelanis, the child of a Nymph and a Satyr. She has grown restless enough to move on from her mother's homeland, but has yet to find a suitably unspoilt part of nature to call her home. She is still deeply connected to nature however, and wherever she goes wild animals will flock to her, foxes will lay down next to rabbits and generally everything is lovely. Assuming she's in a good mood. When she's in a foul mood there is a suspicious tendancy for the environment to follow suit, with every sulk accompanied by a downpour, undergrowth to tangle and birds to do that thing all down a PC's robes. Adventure ideas: The PCs are hired to kidnap Fionn, on behalf of a wealthy suitor so that he can convince her how much he is in love with her. If the PCs accept the job and succeed in capturing her, they will no doubt enjoy the journey back. However, it is perfectly possible that they should then be hired by one of her other suitors to rescue her. Of course, rescuing her may mean rescuing her to the home of the second suitor. This could go on for some time. Of course there is always the risk of a suitor interrupting the PCs in the process of the rescue, one who didn't feel the need to hire anyone on his behalf to do his rescuing. A group of shifters approach the PCs begging for help. A local military commander has burnt down a small section of the local woodlands in which they live and is threatening to reduce the whole forest to a cinder unless Fionn marries him. He's vowed to poison the lakes in his domain with salt and string up every wild animal from one border to the other. Certainly he's mad, but his mercenary forces don't care and he could certainly do it. Unless the PCs can find a way to stop him, she will be forced to wed him to save the land. A young nobleman is besotted with Fionn and has walked away from his engagement to a much more suitable girl from another family, with huge tracts of land. His mother is furious and will pay the PCs well for anything that gets rid of the Nymph. Of course, this could be the least of the woman's worries when some of Fionn's other admirers turn up on her doorstep, spoiling for a fight. PCs searching for a magic item are stumped at the last step when they find that the current possessor they searched for / defeated / burgled, has actually given that item as a gift to Fionn, a token of his affections. Now the PCs must try and retrieve it from her. Naturally with someone as elusive as a Fey, this wont be easy and if they can't steal it from her by force or trickery, they'll have to bargain for it. What tasks a bored fey will dream up for the PCs is left to the DM's devious imagination.
KP91 02-16-05, 08:54 PM	This seems intresting. Here is an NPC I have in my game. Breonna d'Orien, a higher up in her house, looked around. She was in the workshop, overseeing the construction of Skycoachs in a Sharn tower. Giving a sigh she continued to watch the continuos work of her employees. Today was the day. After a long month of thinking, the Mistress of the Orien house had made a decision and was ready. She had scheduled an appointment in an hour and was going to leave soon. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- A half hour later she was boarding her Lightning Rail cart. Her silver hair flowed down to her waist, her stylish noble outfit and jewlry increasing her beauty. As the rail sped down the track her thoughts increased, was she sure she wanted to do this? It would change her life for ever.... ...No, she had to. She needed to regain peace at mind. She had so much stress now. She knew it would only be a matter of time until the rail departed and it was too late to turn back. As she stopped, her coach was already at the station. It carried her all the way to her destination. She tipped the driver and was off after he assured her it was okay and wished her luck. She continued walking until she reached the head priest of the shrine. She gave a couph to let him know she was there. "Yes?" he asked. "I need help, I have lost touch with reality and already fear expulsion of my family, I...I...I...." She stuttered. "Yes," he asked again. "I would like to join the faith of The Host and become a clergy member. I need divine help from the gods." Mistress Breonna d'Orien [human Aristocrat 4, Adept 1] I'll get the rest of her stats tomorrow.
PoeticJustice 02-16-05, 11:05 PM	Would it be okay if I posted a character from a thread I made earlier this week?
Lurkalot 02-17-05, 04:18 PM	Would it be okay if I posted a character from a thread I made earlier this week? I have no idea why you shouldn't. It would be good if there were some consolidation between the threads. My only suggestion for its development (and it is a suggestion) is that briefer character ideas should be posted to the Sharn NPCs thread elsewhere (http%3A//boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?t=380420) and this one should be reserved for statted out characters or ones with heavy background. That way the two threads maintain their different approaches. Anyway, if this thread has been resurrected, I guess I'll post another one myself. Must get working...
Myriddian 02-18-05, 04:39 AM	Don't give up Lurkalot it is a great thread. :bow: Arak Bloodbeard Male Maeluth* Clr3/ Wiz3 /Mystic Theurge 5: CR12: Medium-size Outsider (native); HD 3d8+6 plus 8d4+16; hp 66; Init +0; Spd 20 ft; AC 23 (touch 10, flatfooted 23); BAB +6/+1; Atk +9/+4 Melee (1d8+2 (*3 crit) +2 wounding warhammer) or +7/+2 (1d4+1/Poison) dagger of venom or +6 touch (spell); SA Rebuke Undead 3/day, Spells; SQ Dwarven Traits, Fiend Hammer, Outsider(native) Traits; AL LE; SAV Fort +5, Ref +3, Will +10; Str 10, Dx 10, Con 14, Int 18, Wis 17, Cha 12; Height 4’2”; *Found in the Fiend Folio Skills and Feats: Appraise +0 (+2 stone or metal), Concentration +14, Craft (metalworking) +2, Craft (stoneworking) +2, Diplomacy +8, Knowledge (Arcana) +14, Knowledge (Religion) +14, Scry +4, Spellcraft +!4; Exotic Weapon Proficiency (warhammer), Extend Spell, Maximise Spell, Quicken Spell, Scribe Spell, Silent Spell, Still Spell, Weapon Focus (warhammer); Special Attacks: Rebuke Undead Arak may rebuke undead 3 times per day as a third level cleric; Special Qualities: Dwarven Traits - Arak has a +1 racial bonus on attack rolls against Orcs and Goblinoids, a +2 racial bonus on saves against spells and spell-like abilities, a +2 racial bonus on Fortitude saves against all poisons, and a +4 dodge bonus against giants. Arak has 60 foot Darkvision, stonecunning (+2 racial bonus on checks to notice unusual stonework; can make a check for unusual stonework as though actively searching when within 10 feet and can use the search skill to find stonework traps as a rogue can; intuit depth), and a +2 racial bonus on Appraise checks and craft or Profession checks related to stone or metal. Fiend Hammer - Once per day Arak can grant a melee weapon the unholy special ability. This effect lasts for 1 minute. Outsider(native) Traits – As a native Outsider Arak may raised and resurrected. Spells Cleric spells – Araks Domains are War and Magic. 6 - 0, 6 -1 st,5 - 2nd, 5 – 3rd, 3 – 4th. Wizard Spells – 4 – 0, 9 – 1st, 4 – 2nd, 4 – 3rd, 3 – 4th. Arak with his trade in magic has access to all common spells of the levels he can cast. He prefers either spells with no somantic component or spells prepared with his Still Spell feat. Some spells with no somantic component are, Blindness/Deafness, Blur, Darkness, Dimensionsion Door, Displacement, Featherfall, Hold Portal, Knock, Lesser Geas, Shout, Suggestion, Truestrike, Ventriloquism. Equipment: Skullcracker, a +2 wounding Warhammer, Bracers Of Armor +5, Dagger of Venom, Ring of Mind Shielding, Ring of Wizardry !, Staff of Fire, Wand of Invisibility, Wand of Hold Person, Plate mail. Arak was discovered abandoned by a famous Breland wizard, a member of the Citadel, during one of the many large battles of the war, and brought back to Sharn and placed in the care an old apprentice. Although not “evil”, Arak was vicious when retaliating to being teased and grew up as a moody loner. However, Arak was always passionate about the war and eager to fight and whilst still a young dwarf, he ran away and fought as cleric/mage for his country. He eventually teamed up with the wizard who found him amidst the wreckage of the battlefield. The two became fast friends and comrades in arms. It was through this friendship that Arak’s spark of passion for arcane magic was turned into a life long love. Eventually Arak’s mentor was killed and this hardened Arak’s heart to the point that he lost the few friends he had. Still he was a reliable and powerful force for the Breland military and he was used for many special missions of great importance. In the last years of the war Arak discovered a deactivated warforged, Obsidian, on a ruined battlefield, and an artificer he was traveling with at the time repaired it for him. Arak teamed up with Obsidian, whose talents as an assassin made him an ideal partner. The two became such fast friends, that after the signing of the treaty Obsidian became Arak’s bodyguard and right-hand man in Arak’s new business, Bloodbeard’s Folly. Bloodbeard’s Folly is a large shadowy tavern in Sharn frequented by wide variety of individuals from adventurers to theives to nobles to businessmen. Although the tavern has a reputation for descretion it is reality a place where Arak spy on trouble makers for the Citadel. In a well secured room out the back guarded at all times by several strong members of House Kundarak and surrounded by strong magical defenses Arak runs a mageware shop. As the tavern is frequented by a large number of adventurers he does quite well though prices aren't always the most competive. An arrogant foolhardy young noble once made the mistake of accusing Arak of spying for another country Arak promptly challenged said fool to a duel and promptly shattered his spine. Strangely enough Arak’s loyalty is to the crown and he is firmly against the parliament taking control. ------------------------------------------------------------------ This the highest level NPC I have created for my own game, I use him as a mentor and sponser for my group. He also through contacts can supply information, not always correct maybe :schemes: As he is always loyal to friends and yet is eviol he is a good representation of the muddled alignment of Eberron. My party is basically funneling info on anything and everything they are doing back to himand in return he foots the bill for the lightening rail when ever they need it. He could be used to directly to hire PC's to investigate threats to Breland or to spy on their enemies. If the PC's wish to join the Citadel Arak could be their sponser and mentor in that regards. If the PC's are working against Breland he would make a dealy enemy!
Myriddian 02-18-05, 04:46 AM	Obsidian Male oriented warforged Rgr5/Asn5: CR10: Medium construct (Living); HD 5d8 plus 5d6 +30; hp 85; Init +2; Spd 30 ft; AC 16 (touch 12, flatfooted 14); BAB +8/+3; Atk +10 Melee (1d8+2 (19-20*2 crit) Reaver (+2 human bane longsword)); Full Atk +12/+7 Melee (1d8+2 (19-20*2 crit) Reaver (+2 human bane longsword)) or +11/+6 Melee (1d6+1 (19-20*2 crit) +1 Spell Storing Shortsword); Atk +10/+5 Melee (1d8+2 (19-20*2 crit) Reaver (+2 human bane longsword)) and +9 Melee (1d6+1 (19-20*2 crit) +1 Spell Storing Shortsword); SA Combat Style (Two Weapons), Death Attack, Favored Enemy Goblinoids +2, Favored Enemy Humans +4, Poison Use, Sneak Attack +3d6, Spells; SQ Animal Companion (Link and shared spells with Grymorc, a wolf), Improved Uncanny Dodge, Living Construct Traits, Light Fortification (25%), Poison Save +2, Uncanny Dodge, Wild Empathy; AL LN; SAV Fort +5, Ref +8, Will +4; Str 14, Dx 14, Con 16, Int 14, Wis 12, Cha 10; Height 6’2”; Skills and Feats: Balance +4, Climb +4, Concentration +7, Disable Device +4, Disguise +4, Hide +20, Jump +3, Listen +10, Move Silently +20, Open Lock +4; Ride +3, Search +6, Spot +8, Survival +8, Swim +3, Use Magic Device +4, Alertness, Iron Will, Nimble Fingers, Quick Draw, Stealthy, Track, Two Weapon Fighting, (All Feat bonuses are included in above statistics); Spells Ranger spells known 1 1st level. Prefered - Pass without Trace. Assassin Spells known - 1st Featherfall, Ghost Sound, Jump, True Strike; 2nd Alter Self, Invisibilty, Spider Climb; 3rd False Life, Nondetection; Equipment Reaver (+2 Human Bane Longsword), +1 Spell Storing Shortsword, 4 oils of Light Repair*, 2 Wand Sheaths (Embedded)*, Essence of Scout (Embedded)*, Wand of Light, Wand of Detect Magic, Wand of Burning Hands, Belt of Natural Armor +2**. * Indicates items found in Eberron Campaign Sourcebook. ** Functions as Amulet of Natural Armor + 2 Grymorc Male Wolf; CR1: Medium Animal; HD 2d8 plus 4; hp 18; Init +2; Spd 50 ft; AC 14 (touch 12, flatfooted 12); BA/GR +1/+3; Atk Bite Atk +3 Melee (1d6+1); Full Atk Bite Atk +3 Melee (1d6+1); SA Trip; SQ Link, Low-light Vision, Scent, Spells; AL N; SAV Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +1; Str 13, Dx 15, Con 15, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 6; Skills and Feats: Hide +2, Listen +3, Move Silently +3, Spot +3, Survival +1*; Track, Weapon Focus (Bite); * +4 bonus when tracking by scent. -------------------------------------------------- This the bodyguard and partner of the above NPC.
Lurkalot 06-04-05, 06:41 AM	. Well, an update to a long forgotten thread with two new characters. I might add the Adventure Ideas section later if I have time, but these are mostly just flavour characters. As always, I asked only that if anyone uses any of these characters in their game, that you post a reply to let me know how it went. All DM's are addicted to feedback, after all. I give you two very disreputable residents of Sharn:
Lurkalot 06-04-05, 06:42 AM	A raucous and hideous laugh cracked across the tavern like a vulture that had just heard a particularly crude joke. Most of the regulars, a rough looking crowd to be sure, ignored it, pausing momentarily mid-sentence without thinking. Of four newcomers who had just entered, one smiled in familiar recognition and hustled his three companions through the crush towards where the sound had come from. Though not an obvious tough like many of the crowd here, he had a louch swagger as he walked and a rascally grin with a prominently missing incisor. His three companions had the giggling nervousness of the out of place, of those on an adventure. Their clothing alone set them apart as wealthier than those around them, but semi-hostile looks were lost on them. Threading their way through crowd after their rogueish guide like ducklings after their mother, they reached a large table crowded with the most savoury of the tavern's unsavoury characters. And sitting there on a tall stool was a cackling goblin woman in a motley mass of skirts and shirts and a head of unnatural red hair. On closer inspection it was real but stitched carefully into the skin of the scalp of the woman. The Host alone knew where she had bought it or from who in what circumstances. She nudged a nearby tough with a poker like elbow and he grudgingly shifted around the table to make room for the new arrivals. "Come sit by me, my lovers," she said with a grin. The three of them pulled up newly vacated stools and crowded around. "No drinks" cried the goblin? She caught her partner's discreet nod and yelled across the tavern for ales to be brought. "Now," she said to the nearest of the three companions, a thin, studious looking man, "have you met my niece, Charlla?" She yanked a dark-eyed human girl around and with a deft strength in the sinewy arm swung her into the surprised young man's lap. She leaned close and, in a whisper that could be heard in the Skyway, she said "she's ever such a friendly girl." Another vulture laugh followed. A quick barrage of introductions followed, and the other young man quickly found himself at the centre of a group of people with a tankard pressed into his hands. A few knuckle bone dice appeared from somewhere and a game of Goblin Pounce began. And in the meantime, the rogueish gent who had brought them here, launched into a bawdy tale about a changeling wench and a dwarf merchant. The two young men quickly relaxed as friendliness and ale took had their effect. The goblin woman pulled her stool over to the third companion, a girl of early twenties, looking a little ill at ease. "Ahhh, let them have their fun," grinned the goblin woman, "men will be boys, eh?" She pinched the girl's cheek affectionately in a leathery hand apparently made of knuckles. Up close, the stitching that held her borrowed hair in could be clearly seen and the faint age lines in the orangey skin of her face were visible; but her toothy smile was warm. "Just you trust Red Maggie, eh? You'll be fine. What say we go somewhere with a little more space later with some halfling musicians and we'll find you a pretty shy boy to dance with?" The goblin woman looked up at the younger, taller, human one and made exaggerated dance motions with her arms, eliciting a giggle from the human. "That's my little girl," grinned Maggie again, slapping her gently on the arm and laughing her hideous laugh once more. "Red Maggie will look after you." Red Maggie is just one of those people - always at the centre of things, the arbiter of social politics and the dispenser of grubby wisdom. She knows everyone and every place, who's seeing who and who's cheating whom. If you're new in the town and you're an outsider, then you can't do better than get to know her. Sir Lionel is a down and out knight. Minor and disgraced aristocracy, he trades on his accent and his title and his disreputable charm. He still has good contacts in the upper reaches of Sharn, at least amongst the younger and wilder of Upper Sharn's wealthy. Other's regard him as nothing but the worst of influences. Together Maggie and Lionel turn a not unhandsome profit from acting as bawds to the better off and bored. With promises of seedy glamour and low-living, Sir Lionel will lure the curious down to the depths. The way it works is that a group of Morgrave students, or youths from some wealthy families... or even some businessmen at the end of a long week, are presuaded to come out with Sir Lionel on an evening, he and Maggie introduce them to various low-lifes and low dives where they are shamelessly ripped off for everything from their drinks, to gambling, to companionship. At some point, they usually find that Maggie or Lionel has their purse but by then, they're having such a time that they don't usually care. If they stumble back to their homes with their pockets lighter than they ought, then they don't really mind. It's just part of the deal. Maggie and Lionel offer a subtle sort of service - they turn money into social life.. Red Maggie: Female Goblin, Commoner 3; CR: 2; HD 3D4+3; hp 10; Init: +1; Spd 30 ft.; AC 12, touch 12, flat-footed 11; Base Atk / Grapple: +2/-2; Atk: Dagger +3 melee (1d4/19-20); SQ Dark Vision 60ft.; AL CG; SV Fort +4, Ref + 1, Will +2 ; Str 11 Dex 13 Con 12 Int 10 Wis 13 Cha 13 Skills and Feats: Bluff +3, Diplomacy +5 ,Gather Information +4, Knowledge (Local) +4 ,Move Silently +4, Ride +4, Persuasive, Investigate. Languages Common, Goblin Image: A grinning and raucous goblin woman with thick, scarlet hair braided and carefully stitched into her scalp. She wears a motley mess of clothes and has a laugh that would make a pirate blush. There is not an ounce of common respect in her, familiarly addressing everyone as "my lover" or "me handsome one," and making free with people's arms, cheeks or anything else quite frankly. Role-playing: Be the centre of attention, laugh crudely and suffer no airs and graces. Everyone is the same to you and life is for living. You're older than you appear these days, but that's no reason to slow down more than you have to. Sir Lionel Farnton: Male Human, Aristocrat 1; CR: 1; HD 1D8; hp 7; Init: +0; Spd 30 ft.; AC 10, touch 10, flat-footed 10; Base Atk / Grapple: +0/+0; Atk: Rapier +0 melee (1d6/18-20x2); AL NN; SV Fort +0, Ref + 0, Will +1 ; Str 9 Dex 12 Con 10 Int 14 Wis 8 Cha 15 Skills and Feats: Bluff +5 , Diplomacy +3, Gather Information +3, Knowlege (Local) +3, knowlege (aristocracy) +3, Sense Motive +3, Intimidate +2, Persuasive, Languages Common, Goblin, Elven Image: A handsome but rogueish face that looks like it's had a few too many late nights. He has a catchy grin, missing one incisor and longish dark hair. He dresses in crumpled finery and walks with a cheerful swagger. Role-playing: Avoid confrontation with easy words and quick wit. Life is for pleasure and hang-overs are the greatest evil in Eberron. Everyone is looking for something. Some of them want to use you, some of them want to be used by you. Make the most of everything and never ever buy a round.
Lurkalot 06-11-05, 03:22 PM	. Well, this character will be my last post in this thread. I get the feel that no-one's really too bothered about it, but I'd already started writing up this last character, so I might as well post it. This is one of the nastiest characters that I've ever come up with, although he doesn't seem it for quite a while. The nice thing with him is that the PC's will never normally guess that he's the bad guy. Maybe after the second time he shows up "assisting" a BBEG.
Lurkalot 06-11-05, 03:23 PM	He was an extraordinary figure. Dressed in a livery of red and black, silver-buckled and with the most frighteningly tall yellow hair, he was quite the most distinctive person the baron ever recalled seeing. His face was very long and his cheekbones very high. His eyes were as blue and bright as his skin was pale and tight. He sketched an alarmingly deep and sweeping bow and spoke to the Baron in a quick, musical voice: "My lord, it is given to me that you are in need of good servants the worthless ones that you in your great generosity employed having rewarded your noble but regretably misplaced trust by deserting you when of all times they most ought to have shown loyalty. I most humbly and reluctantly now proffer myself as a better sort of servant and though far beneath the standard that someone of your evident quality should expect would in such a candidate's absence wish to be considered for aforesaid position." The baron took a moment or two to unravel this. "Ah," he replied sadly, "I cannot employ you. It is true that I have no servants, but that is because I am destitute. I invested in many Westerley estates, now part of the Eldeen Reaches. I lost everything. My sons both dead in the war, my daughters already married off. I suppose the manor must be sold next. I have nothing." The strange man seemed not at all unphased. Taking the baron by the arm in a most familiar manner, he led him out and gestured to the green hillsides around them. "What do you see, my lord?" "Ah, fields," replied the Baron hesitantly? "And," prompted his companion, twitching his lengthy pale fingers. "Aundair," guessed the baron? "Exactly," said the companion, as if no answer in his life had ever given him greater pleasure. "A nation seething with fury at the injustice done to her, to you, noble lord." "Is it?" "Why fully a third of her land was stolen from her by those "Eldeen" fiends. Do you think you are the only one who has lost things of value? Nay - there is much anger simmering here though perhaps none are as rightfully furious as yourself." "I am?" "Indeed, my lord, though your compassionate nature causes you to hide it. But what do you think would be the result if you came to court today and denounced the Queen for letting such a thing happen?" "Denounce the Queen," he murmured in horror! "Aye! Why fully two-thirds the court would support you. Surely the sight of one so noble, ruined, would disturb the nobility and rouse them to support you. I do believe that you would there receive many offers of assistance in escaping your plight." "Would I?" The stranger unhanded the baron momentarily in order to perform a graceful little jig. "Baron Jamus," he continued in a squeeky feminine voice, "I Queen Aurala of Aundair, cannot see such a noble vassal of mine brought low by those traitorous farmers. You shall be recompensed." "But I just denounced her," said the Baron. "Once more you have hit the nail upon the very head, my Lord! In one stroke you became the symbol of all Aundair's discontent and wounded pride. Now she must defuse you." "Defuse me?" "With bribery, my lord. It is the surest way. Why co-incidentally, the court is meeting today to resolve a most thorny issue to do with the Eldeen Reaches - that of who shall be appointed Marshall of the Western front. It has been the source of much politicking amongst the nobility and whosever the Queen appoints, she will anger some faction." He paused for a moment, head on one side, lips pursed. "Oh goodness me," he exclaimed, "would it not be the perfect solution to appoint you to the post of marshall. In one stroke, the Queen would provide you with a sinecure to keep you quiet, resolve infighting amongst the nobility and make herself look magnanimous. Why she would even congratulate herself on her guile." "A sinecure," smiled the baron, "that would be fine." "Two-thousand crowns per year for saying nothing and keeping out of trouble." "Very fine," agreed the baron. "But you are right, my lord - I can see you thinking already this is not enough." "..." "So then you attack the Eldeen Reaches." "I attack?" "Glory, riches and a triumph for all Aundair; after preparing the forces of course." "Of course," The strange man danced a few steps away from the baron and executed another of his alarming bows. "I can have your carriage prepared within the hour. We can go over your speech on the journey. So then, you will employ me as your servant," he asked? The baron appeared crestfallen. "I have no money. I cannot afford even a maid." "I am certain my lord, that we can reach an accommodation. What say you hire me for a year and a day, in return for, what shall we say, how about the smallest finger of your left hand?" The baron stared at the servant, as if seeing him clearly for the first time. The servant stared back, his glittering blue eyes impenetrable. "It seems a small price to pay," the baron murmured, slightly pale. "Indeed," replied his new servant, "what could you possibly lose?" Tam Defano, Male Half-Fiend Changeling, Sorceror 6, Fighter 2. CR: 9; HD 2D10 + 6D4 + 24; hp 56; Init: +6; Spd 30 ft. (flight 30' average); AC 17 (11 flat-footed), touch 17; Base Atk / Grapple: +1/+0; Atk: Rapier +12 melee (1d6+5/18-20x2)*, Claw (1d4), Bite (1d6), Dart (ranged), 1d4(x2) + poison * ; SA: Smite Good (1/day + 8 dmg), Darkness (3/day), Desecrate (1/day), Unholy Blight (1/day), Poison (3/day) , Darkvision 60', Immunity to Poison, Resitance to Acid (10), Cold (10), electricity (10), Fire (10), DR 5/magic, SR 1, Minor Shapechange, Slippery Mind, AL CE; SV Fort +9, Ref + 9, Will +4 ; Str 17 Dex 22 Con 16 Int 19 Wis 8 Cha 19 Skills and Feats: 60 (max = 9) Bluff 8 Concentration 6 Diplomacy 6 Disguise 8 Gather Information 7 Intimidate 6 Perform 3 Ride 2 Sense Motive 7 Spell Craft 7 Languages Common, Goblin, Elven Spells Daily: 6(0-level),7,6,4 Feats: Weapon Finesse (Rapier), Weapon Focus (Rapier), Weapon Specialisation (Rapier), Persuasive, Combat Expertise. Spells Known: 7,5,3,2 Detect Magic, Read Magic, Dancing Lights, Ghost Sound, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Mage armour, Charm Person, Expeditious Retreat, Animate Rope, True Strike, Hypnotism, Fog Cloud, Detect Thoughts, Cat's Grace, Displace, Keen Edge, * Defano often uses poison on his weapons. If he has a moment to prepare he will pour a contact or Injury poison on his blade, typically either Deathblade(injury, DC 20, 1d6 Con / 2d6 Con) or Dragon Bile (Contact, DC26, 3d6 Strength / 0). He always carries several darts pre-coated with Deathblade. Image (common): An extraordinary looking individual, tall and thin with hair like a thistle and the colour of straw. His face is exceptionally long, his body the same though he moves with a rapid, birdlike precision. His bright blue eyes convey a intelligence far too developed for a servant. His wide lips are nearly always twisted into a half-mocking smile. Typically, he is wearing a fanciful outfit, often of red and black silks with mithral lace. A sort of ceremonial bandolier of silvery pegs crosses his chest and he wears a fine rapier at his side. Image (true): A palid demon, with milky white eyes and skin like an albino adder. Two curving horns crown his head and pale white membraneous wings expand from his back, flexing idly. His body is agile looking and strong. His face is fiendish, but lacking in distinct features. creating a smooth repulsive visage. His small mouth has red lips that part to reveal small needle-like teeth. There is an unearthly aura of evil about this one. Role-playing: There are typically three basic personalities that Defano will use, though he is eager to use whatever is most suited to getting what he wants. Often, he plays the part of the deferential servant, blending into the background and only with close observation will it be noticed how often he prompts his master with suggestions or advice. When he is free to do so, Defano adopts a wilder and more energetic demeanor, speaking quickly and with great cunning, ably keeping others off-balance. In this mood, there is never any guessing what he might do. But closest to his true nature, such as he has one, is his cruel personality, in which he is capable of murder, torture and other acts of sadism. Perhaps being so practiced in deception, he finds it difficult to really engage with others. Sadism is a means by which he able to break through and feel something, if only by proxy. Motivation: Defano enjoys deception. He also enjoys letting others overestimate him. Most of all, he has a basic impulse toward strife. Wherever he goes, he causes friction and if he can begin a riot or a raid or a war, then he is never happier. He likes to work through a proxy however, typically in the guise of serving them, all the while leading them to disaster. This is the greatest game to him. Background: Defano was the result of a union between a Balor and a changeling woman of great ambition. Alas, the mother died in childbirth before she could see the monster she had bourne. He was raised initially by a barbarian tribe in the Demon Wastes, but soon began to make his way in the world, sowing discord and violence wherever he passed. Now his abilities are mature and he has grown more ambitious in his desire to bring doom upon Khorvaire.
Lurkalot 10-25-05, 02:01 PM	I recieved a nice message from someone who'd been reading this ancient thread and it's prompted me to add one more pre-prepared NPC. It's just a little one this time, but it add an extra bit to someone's adventure. I'd hoped a few more people would contribute, but all I ask is to post back here how it went if anyone uses these characters. I give you Grash and friend...
Lurkalot 10-25-05, 02:02 PM	A dry branch snapped in the fire causing the dwarf to curse loudly. "I do not like this," he said, not for the first time. His human companions ignored him. The tall thin one shrugged then tossed another of the sticks into the blaze. Stubbornly, to prove a point, the dwarf continued to sit away from the fire, demonstrating its unimportance to him. After a few minutes of this, the female human came over to him. Even without his dark-adapted eyes, he could have picked out the willowy silhouette or distinguished her from the others by the lightness of her tread. She shivered and placed a hand on his armoured shoulder. "Svend," she said, "come and join us. There's no sense in being cold now it's lit." "I'd sooner be cold than dead," he replied, his voice gruff. "When goblins see that fire lit they'll be on us like flies. Then you'll be cold with no mistake. Cold as this hillside where they'll bury us." "Have it your way, then" she snapped and returned to the fire. 'Still leagues from the border," she muttered loud enough for him to hear. "And what border would that be," asked a raspy voice from the darkness mere yards from where she stood. Instantly the party drew steel or reached for their wands. In the darkness, a figure the height of a boy could just be seen. "The border your human king has declared? My race recalls a time when our only borders were the seas themselves. We go where we please." Not one to let another seize the initiative, the party's strongest and most skilled warrior strode forward, sword in hand. "Those days are gone, goblin!" He was surprised to feel the dwarf's hand on his arm, holding him back. The dwarf's eyes were focused beyond the circle of firelight into the dark where the human couldn't see. A low rumble echoed back at them from something monstrous sounding. "What do you want" asked the Dwarf? "You're pursuing a man on horseback... tall, dark-haired, carries a wizard's staff, yes?" There was a sharp in-draw of breath from the woman and the tall thin man tightened his grip on his wand. "You're heading the wrong way," said the goblin. "You think he's following the Darguun road, but he turned off about three miles back and is heading for the river. There's a shallow run of about a mile not far from there. I'd guess he'll ride along it either North or South under the mistaken expectation that you have dogs with you, and then turn off for Darguun through the hills." "Why should we trust you," demanded the woman? "If I was hostile I would have attacked while you slept, not walked up and said 'hello.' You need a guide, a tracker. And if you're going to keep lighting fires like that all the way to Darguun, you'll need a skilled scout too. For a little coin, I believe we can help." The goblin let out a low whistle and a beast walked out of the darkness. It was not a wolf - it was the size of a horse and charcoal black. Leather padding adorned its flanks and breast and the goblin pulled himself swiftly up onto its back. "The dwarf," said the goblin as the beast turned about, "he knows. Not like you city people. You need me. I'll return in an hour for a decision." The beast swung its head round, taking in each member of the party with big red eyes. "Think it over," said the animal in the common tongue. And with that they vanished back into the night as silently as they had come. Grash, Male Goblin, Expert 1, Warrior 3 CR: 3; HD 1D6 + 3D8 + 4; hp 24; Init: +3; Spd 30 ft. ; AC 20 (+3 Dex, +1 Small Size, + 4 Chain Shirt, +2 Hvy Shield), touch 14; Base Atk +3 Atk: Lance +5 1d6(x3), Longsword +5 1d6 (19-20/x2), Shortbow + 6 1d4(x3) SQ: Darkvision 60' AL NE; SV Fort +3 , Ref + 4, Will +1 ; Str 14 Dex 17 Con 12 Int 13 Wis 9 Cha 10 Skills: Ride 11, Handle Animal 5, Survival 4, Hide 8, Knowledge (Geography) 3, Listen 4, Move Silently 4, Spot 4, Languages: Goblin, Common, Dwarf, Giant Feats: Mounted Combat, Ride By Attack. Possessions: Mithral Chain, Mithral Heavy Shield. Potion of Cure Light Wounds x3, Potion of Mage Armour x2. Image: A three foot tall, vicious looking creature with ropey muscles and mottled orange skin. He has the pronounced jaw and savage teeth of all goblinkind and heavy brows suggesting a thick, protective skull. His green eyes glitter with intelligence and he moves with the ugly grace of a monkey, quick and disturbing. Beneath the dark tabard he wears, is the glitter of mithral armour, but in his hand is dark sword that looks like it has seen much use. Role-playing: Though he is not eloquent, Grash is intelligent enough to put his point of view clearly, and aggressive enough to make it heard. He is not afraid to fight, but is very good at weighing odds as befits a scout. Neither he nor his mount have any problem with fleeing entirely if necessary and he doesn't pursue something where there is no profit in it. If someone crossed him however, he might go so far as to give their enemies a helping hand in terms of strategy or information. Motivation: Mostly, Grash is simply after riches. He has served in many a battle and the years have been long. He has some money stashed away but wants to add a little to it before he feels he can give up life in the wilds entirely. Plus the world is still too uncertain, with war never more than a misunderstanding away. Until something better comes along, he'll continue plying his mercenary trade as best he can. Unpronouncable Growl, Advanced Male Worg. CR: 3; HD 7D10 + 28; hp 67; Init: +1; Spd 50 ft. ; AC 16 (+1 Dex, +4 Natural, -1 Large Size, +2 Leather Barding), touch 14; Base Atk +7 / Grapple +14, Atk: Bite +13 (1d8 + 8), SA: Trip; SQ: Darkvision 60', Low Light Vision, Scent; AL NE; SV Fort +3 , Ref + 4, Will +1 ; Str 25 Dex 13 Con 19 Int 6 Wis 14 Cha 10 Possessions: Leather Barding. Image: It's not a wolf. It's the size of a horse. Its crimson eyes are looking down on you and it could quite definitely fit a man's head between it's jaws. The sable darkness of its fur is only broken up by the pieces of finely stitched leather barding that are strapped to its flanks and underside. A slim saddle-like piece covers its back. In combat, Unpronouncable Growl's trip account is best represented by it seizing someone in it's mouth and flipping them into the air. In a charge, it approaches at a terrifying speed, an incoming rush of dark fur, bloody eyes and savage, tearing teeth. Remember to add the streaks of blood matting its chin after the first successful attack. Role-playing: Unpronouncable Growl is a loner. Grash is his sole friend. He enjoys the hunt. He enjoys the kill. Little else reaches him emotionally. He can speak common, though not perfectly and forming human words tires his throat after a short time, therefore he speaks little. Only during combat or a chase, does Unpronouncable Growl really come to life, and then he fights with great abandon, unless led away by his rider. Adventure Ideas: Grash and Unpronouncable Growl could be added to any number of wilderness scenarios. He can supplement a party's wilderness survival or tracking skills; or he can work for the enemy and double-cross them. He can even be found amongst the PCs enemies as a scout or additional guard, though he would likely escape before fighting came to the bitter end. Given his mercenary nature, trusting Grash should always be a difficult discussion amongst the PCs. They may need his knowledge of the terrain or its inhabitants, but dare they risk trusting him at all?