---------------------------------------------------------------------
NAME:Sienna Stormfalcon Player address: elliot@poly.edu
Alias:
Class: <Paladin> Level:5 Exp: 18000 Next: 36000
(Kit): Profession: (none)
Homeland: ShadowDale Faith: Torm
---------------------------DESCRIPTION--------------------------------
Race: Human Sex:F Age: 24
Hieght: 5'11'' Weight: 150 Build: wiry
Eyes: Hazel Skin: fair
Hair (&style): Red, bound into a tight severe braid (under helmet)
--------------------------VITAL INFO----------------------------------
STR: 12
DEX: 18
CON: 10
INT: 10
WIS: 13
CHA: 17
Hit Points: 40
Saving Throws: _11_ _13_ _12_ _13_ _14_
Paralyze/ Rod/Staff/ Petrify/ Breath Spell
Poison/Death Wand Polymorph Weapon
Notes:
Armour Class Norm: -3 Best: -3 No shield: -2 No Armour: 6 No DEX: 1
Armour Worn: Field plate and Shield
Special Defences: None
----------------------------WEAPONS-----------------------------------
Weapon Proficiencies:
WP: Lance, long sword, longbow, horseman's mace, awl-pike
Weapons Carried:
Weapon THAc0 #AT Damage(S/M L) NOTES
Longsword 16 1 1d8/1d12
Heavy lance 16 1 1d8+1/3d8 2*damage if charging
Longbow 14 2 1d8/1d8
H. mace 16 1 1d6/1d4
Special Attacks: None
-----------------------SKILLS & ABILITIES-----------------------------
Non-Weapon Proficiencies:
Etiquette Cha 0 17
Local history Cha 0 17
Riding Wis +3 16
Rope Use Dex 0 18
Play harp Dex -1 17
Sing Cha 0 17
Hunting Wis -1 12
Cooking Int 0 10
Blind-fighting
Languages spoken: Common, LG, Elven
Special: None. Things in braces are inactive.
(Depending on GM decision, some of the powers below -- the ones not
under conscious control -- may still be active. However, no matter
what, Sienna believes that the ones under conscious control have been
taken away and will not attempt to use them.)
[+2 to all saves]
[Immune to disease]
[Cure disease 1/week]
[Lay on hands for 10 hp 1/day]
[Detect evil 60']
[Aura of protection]
[Turn undead as 3rd level cleric]
----------------------------POSSESSIONS-------------------------------
Wealth (what/where/notes): 5 gp in various change in belt pouch; 80
gp in pouch around neck
Mount: "Chancellor," a dark red stallion (paladin's warhorse, see
history)
Magic Items (&Details) [-including arms &armour]: None.
Equipment (locations):
Field suit of plate mail: nicked, battered,
with a discolored spot on the left breast where Worn
the badge of the Knights of Myth Drannor used
to be.
Longsword: 'Lionfang', a slightly curved, Slung on belt.
falchion-like blade.
Longbow, quiver, 1 doz. sheaf arrows Slung over left
shoulder.
Shield: medium shield, also discolored. On back.
Saddlebag contents:
Several changes of clothing; Armor maintenance kit (polishing cloths,
replacement leather straps, etc...); Mending kit; Weapon maintenance
kit (oil, whetstones, replacement bowstrings, etc...); 1 week's Iron
Rations; Cooking gear: skillet, tripod, etc...; Flint and steel;
Currying brushes, other horse-care items; First-aid kit: bandages,
alcohol, etc...; 60' of rope; Mirror, hairbrush, etc...; Harp.
One-person tent (little more than a
bedroll with a flap) Tied to saddle
Horseman's mace Tied to saddle
Field axe Hanging from saddle
Heavy lance Carried in stirrup
Other Holdings: None.
----------------------------CHARACTER TRAITS--------------------------
Physical Appearance : The warrior-lady stands almost six feet tall,
and looks as honed for combat as the blade she carries, honed for
combat and nothing else. Hazel eyes regard you expressionlessly from
the eye-slits of the helm. Nicked and battered plate mail covers her
head to foot, a discolored spot high on the left side of the
breastplate further marring the appearance of the armor. A crestless
shield, similarly discolored, dangles almost negligently from the left
hand, yet you have the feeling she can bring it up to guard position
in a fraction of a second, and the long, slightly curved cavalry blade
in her right hand does not waver.
Personality: Sienna is still in shock from her lover's death and
subsequent events: the expression 'running on autopilot' is more or
less applicable. She appears very calm, even when her actions belie
that, calm to the point of insanity. She has bottled her feelings
inside, and will attempt to keep them there: she will not succeed for
very long.
She is often gloomy. Moments in which she enjoys herself are rare,
and are usually followed by intense and prolonged periods of guilt:
"How could I have done that when my love is dead?" Sienna gives up
easily in the face of difficulty: the most important struggle of all
has been already lost.
Sienna follows the codes of chivalry rigidly, yet she cannot help
feeling ironic about it: her honor, as she sees it, has been
irrevocably tarnished. Any mention of the Knights of Myth Drannor is
likely to send her into a deep blue funk, and her prayers to Torm,
while heartfelt, carry with them no sign that she expects them to be
heard.
Fear(s): Nothing. The two most important struggles have already been
lost: her true love is dead and her honor has been shattered. There
is nothing out there that is worse than that.
Hate(s): The Zhentarim. (see character history)
Love(s): Nothing, for now. She has succeeded in convincing herself
that her emotions have been burnt out.
Hobbies/Interests: Yeah, right. Not now, at any rate.
------------------------CHARACTER BACKGROUND---------------------------
Family (living/dead): Father, Auster Stormfalcon, retired adventurer,
dead. Mother, Leandra Stormfalcon, retired adventurer, still alive
and well (has an equipment shop in Shadowdale). Older brother,
Altair, ??? (disappeared several years prior to game start)
Friends (living/dead): None: all of her friends were in the Knights
of Myth Drannor, and all of them have ceased to be such when she was
cast out.
Enemies (living/dead): Lohiro of Battledale, a Zhentarim agent: very
emphatically DEAD. (that's why Sienna is in trouble: see character
history.)
History: Sienna Stormfalcon was born in Shadowdale, and grew up in
the shadow of the Tower of Ashaba. Ever since she remembers herself,
she has always been fascinated by the Knights of Myth Drannor,
strutting along the street after they've passed, knocking heads off
weeds with a stick and imagining herself in bright armor and wielding
a magical glowing sword.
As she grew, her views changed, but that one ambition remained the
same. That is why, though her mother and older brother worshipped
Helm, she chose to give her allegiance to Torm; that is why, though it
was indicated that she had a fair amount of magic potential, she
rejected a cushy magical apprenticeship and entered knightly training
as a page to Rathan.
Sienna's devotion, as well as her physical abilities, made sure that
her advancement was fairly quick: page, squire, knight-in-training...
and finally, she was made a belted Knight of Myth Drannor.
Her older brother, Altair, who was a Knight for some years before
this, disappeared around that time while leading a small strike team
against a group of bandits plaguing the Dalelands. The bandits were
wiped out, but the strike team suffered heavy casualties: Altair's
body was never found.
(Yes, I am leaving space for a plot hook.)
The young Knight who brought Sienna and her mother the news of
Altair's demise was named Coriander.
Coriander and Sienna began talking... began spending more and more
time together... you know the pattern. Them being assigned to the
same team did not hinder the flow of things, either. They were lovers
within three months.
Sienna's life at that point was all that she had ever wanted. She had
her love by her side, and she was doing what she had been dreaming of
all her life. Things could not get any better.
They got worse.
The team was sent to investigate reports of Zhentarim activity in a
small town several days' ride from Shadowdale. Upon arriving, they
fairly quickly established that the start of suspicious activity
coincided with the time one Lohiro of Battledale, a known Zhentarim
sympathizer, rode into town.
The Knights confronted Lohiro. Unfortunately, since there was no
direct proof of the man's involvement, no legal action could be taken.
The team took rooms at the local inn to start investigations in the
morning.
Lohiro was not concerned with such niceties as the law. A Zhentarim
assassin hit the inn that night... and Coriander died in his sleep
from a poisoned dart. Sienna slew the assassin, but it was too late.
Sienna went a bit mad. She walked out of the inn, unnoticed in the
confusion, and headed straight for Lohiro's house. The man's two
bodyguards were no match for a trained knight: Sienna reached
Lohiro's bedroom without very much of an incident, and kicked open the
door. Lohiro bolted upright in his bed, weaponless, with no chance to
defend himself... and Sienna ran him through anyway.
* * *
She was thrown out of the Knights of Myth Drannor for violating one of
the basic tenets of the Code of Chivalry. With no place to go, she
mounted Chancellor (Why *did* that beast stick around, anyway?) and
rode off in a random direction.
She has been travelling since.
-----------------------------------------------------
What actually happened to make Sienna lose her abilities and how can
she get them back? Well, there are three possibilities.
1) Torm considers what Sienna has done an evil act. Sienna has lost
all paladin powers and will never get them back.
2) Torm considers what Sienna has done a chaotic act. Sienna will get
her powers back when and if she atones for what she has done... which
could be a problem, since that is the farthest thing from her mind.
3) Torm does not particularly care about Sienna's action. Thus, while
her knighthood has been stripped away, she is still a paladin... she
just does not think so.
Which of these possibilities is the case? You decide. Sienna has
already assumed that this is the first case, and will act accordingly.
================================================================================
Kruggeren,
by reaux@csgrad.cs.vt.edu (Ray A. Reaux)
"I know the weight of time, and it is heavy with the sorrow of men.
Do you but sit a while and listen to my tale, for the telling of it
will afford me sweet amusement. And perchance, I may amuse thee as
well. Fear not, for although these woods be dark and my power is such
that you are but an ant in my grasp, I feel merciful this night. No
harm will befall you...if you but stay and listen."
In the distance a wolf howled, and the night's chill wrapped its
fingers around my spine. The dark form leaned back against the pine,
and the twin moons made his taunt face glow with the cool light of
polished silver.
He stared through eyes sunk so low into his face, that they looked
like empty sockets, and I knew that he no longer saw me, nor did he
really care whether I heard him or not. I was but a convenent
listener for his tale. I thought about fleeing, for I could feel the
darkness and the chill of his soul, but I feared his wrath. However,
as I listened to his tale, fear became horrid fascination.
"Once, I was a man like you, born into the world from the pain of a
woman, but unlike you, I sprang from the loins of nobler stock. In my
land, I was a prince, the third son of the King of Anduin. Surely,
you have heard of Anduin, whose beauty outshone all other states, and
whose glory spread across the waves to the farthest shores. Yes, I
can see that my country's sweet name has come even to these rude
shores of mud-brick hovels".
"I was a proud man then, proud with the folly of youth and
inexperience. And I thirsted for the knowledge of all things, but
especially for the knowledge Arcane. I lusted for the power that wove
the fabric of the multiverse. Perhaps, in my youth, I could be
forgiven for believing that I wanted this knowledge to defend and help
my people. But in time, as I mastered one mystery, and then another,
I knew that I sought knowledge for no noble cause, but for its own
sake."
"My need consumed me, as it did my sons when I fed them to the demons
who could answer my questions. It consumed me when I sold my wife,
whose beauty I have not seen equalled these many life times, to the
most powerful mage of Anduin in exchange for knowledge forbidden by
the King of Anduin, my father. It mattered not that after I had
mastered his knowledge, I denounced the mage and slew him with my new
learned powers. My wife, was mine no more."
He paused, and I gripped, by his story, drew a deep breath. Again I
heard a howl, deep and unnatural, as it carried words of hate and
mindless lust. The howls were coming closer.
"In time, I learned a small verse of the Song, the primal magic that
brought order out of Chaos and which weaves the fabric of the
multiverse. Only a small verse I learned, for no one, not even the
gods know the entire Song, but that small verse was too powerful for
my frail understanding. I could not control it, and the wild magic
that ran rampant destroyed Anduin, destroyed it utterly so that it
sank beneath the Crystal Sea and is now but a memory." He stared out
into the darkness towards the direction from whence the howls came,
but he did not see. His was the stare of the dead. After an eternity
of despair, he spoke again. "My power saved me, and though I could
not control the forces unleashed by the Song, I could ride out its
fury."
"For the last three centuries, I have walked the earth and paths not
of this world, seeking the Song in every crack and crevice of this
world. For two millenia, I have searched for the Song. And I have
found pieces here and there, minor snippets of power, cast-off notes
of the greater tune. But now, I am near the end of my search. Can
you not hear it? It is near...in those distant mountains. The Song
is there."
He waved a hand towards the tall mountains whose outlines lent greater
darkness to the forest black. "My attonement is there, for with the
Song, I can lift Anduin from the waves and again gaze upon her
pearl-white spires."
The howl was closer and all around us now. Too late! I could not
start a fire to keep them at bay, so I put my back against a tree and
gripped my axe with trembling hands. I would be a tough meal for the
wolves. To be honest, my heart pounded with fear and my palms were
cold with sweat, for I was but a lowly wood cutter, not a hero of
legend. The man, if he could be called a man, stood ten feet away,
staring into the dark woods, as if he was still seeing into the
darkness of his distant past. "Master," I called to him. "the wolves
come. If we but fight together, we might survive this night."
The dark man did not answer. Beyond him, in the shadows of the trees,
I saw the yellow glows of two, no three, sets of yellow lupine eyes.
But they were not the glow of normal wolves, for each pair was too far
off the ground and spread too far apart, and I remembered stories I
had heard, while sitting in the warm comfort of campfires, of the man
beasts on two legs who hunted in the glow of the full moons.
The beasts howled again, and then with horrid growls, they sprang to
the attack. My courage deserted me, and I turned and fled. A dark
shape leaped to block my path, and I swung my axe with all my
strength. The wolf man, no it was a wolf woman, crouched where it had
landed and blocked my swing with impossible strength. With her other
claw, she raked my chest. Again I swung my axe, this time hitting her
skull with sufficient strength to cleave a tree. My axe met little
resistance, and blood splattered everywhere, but instead of falling,
the creature laughed, and before my horrified eyes, the gaping wound
knit back together. The wolf woman again sprang forward to attack,
but this time, some invisible force caught her in mid air, as it had
the two other beasts. Some spectral giant's hand held them dangling
in the air, while their teeth snapped uselessly against the unseen
force.
The dark man's cold voice silenced the outraged creature's howls of
frustration. "No, he is not for you. Not this night, my pet." For
the first time, I could feel his cold eyes truly rest on me, and I
felt the tremendous weight of their years. "Go in peace," the dark
man said, "for now. This night, I gift you your life, for my time has
not yet come."
From those cold, time-heavy eyes, I fled.
Two days later, under the courage of a noon day sun, I returned to the
clearing. I expected to see ripped and blood-stained cloth, and
perhaps cracked bones, but all I found were foot prints. I saw my
prints, those of the dark man, and the prints of the huge man wolves
entering the clearing. However, only two sets of prints left that
clearing. Mine was obvious, where I had crashed through the
underbrush. The other set, which could only be the dark man's, led
Eastward, towards the distant mountains.
*************************************************************************
Eventually, you'll want to pit your players against a lich, the master
bad guy and oscar winning star of ultimate magic gone bad. When a
lich talks, every villain, even a vampire listens. A vampire may be
the unlife of a party, but a lich throws the party. Since a lich has
so much potential, why make the lich a one dimensional character with
the the only thing going for him being a a set of stats and a mega
list of spells that can zap the player characters into the next pocket
dimension. Give him a motive. Give him a personality. And for
goodness sakes, give him a motive. So welcome Kruggeren, the lich
with a goal, and who, like all good actors on life's stage, asks,
"Hey, like man, what is my motivation?".
For those of you who cannot deal with getting an NPC concept without
accompanying stats information. Treat Kruggeren as a 27th level
Magic-User lich. Note that this lich is not a I'll-stay-at-home-
until-an-adventuring party-come-to-destroy-me-lich. He is a mover and
a shaker with an extensive network of spies always looking for that
one thing he is obsessed with, what he calls the Primal Song. Note
that a wish spell represents what little control he has been able to
get over the Primal Song.
Kruggeren has only been around 800 years, so he hasn't quite rotted
away to nothingness. He does however have the unhealthy and gaunt,
almost skeletal, appearance that makes it obvious that he is no longer
human. Since he has been around for as long as he has, he does have a
collection of powerful magic items. Items he will never be without
are a Staff of the Magi, a Ring of Persuasion, and a Medallion of ESP.
He does have a base of operation, which is actually in a subterranean
stronghold under the middle hill of Thurdis' five hills. Thurdis is a
major trade city, and Kruggeren likes to be close to the "pulse" of
the world. He does have two geas-loyal henchmen, Jorek, a 12th level
warrior, and Adium, a 14th level thief and head of the Copper Street
Black Gang, one of many gangs that infest Thurdis. The gangs are also
under the umbrella of the Thieves Guild, and Adium is sits on the
Thieves Guild Council.
================================================================================
Fizgug,
by jmk1940@vms1.tamu.edu (Jay Knioum)
Allow me to introduce Fizgug, a mongrelman thief, rather demented,
with a base Charisma of 4. I played this, uh, gentleman during a
not-so-serious foray into a friend's Ravenloft game. (Try gothic
comedy sometime. Really interesting!)
((Please remember, this is an actual character I played, but is by no
means a SERIOUS one! I don't care to hear rules interpretations, you
dig?))
Fizgug was modeled after the stereotypical "Igor" type character, and
was the ex-servant of a powerful, evil necromancer in a large,
burned-out magical city.
Fizgug, due to Dex, mongrelman abilities, and level had a 150% chance
to pick pockets, which was extremly useful when rifling the pockets of
NPCs.
He was a disgusting wretch, liked to keep bugs and insects as pets,
and enjoyed eating roaches for the entertainment of his erstwhile
companions. His clothing consisted of layer upon layer of burlap,
cloth, skins, and garbage of every description. As the bottom layers
rotted away, he would add more to the top.
This was NOT your father's typical thief.
>Is there any way to avoid the temptation of stealing things from
>other party members?
Why would you want to avoid it? Fizgug would steal things like
rations, belt buckles, shoelaces, you know, interesting stuff. He was
a smart lad, and knew only an idiot steals valuable stuff from other
party members. However, stealing the fighter's +4 dagger and placing
it on the mage is good for a few honest laughs!
>Is there really such a thing as a rogue who isn't CE?
'Gug was CN.
>Any innovative non-magical, or magical, equipment?
During 'Gug's tenure as a wizard's servant, the wizard saw the need
for some way to dispose of the various odds and ends of scrap and
trash that always accumulates in a necromancer's lab. Thus, he
knocked out his faithful servant one night, and performed surgery upon
him. The necromancer set up a green slime in the mongrelman's
stomach, and fixed it so that a symbiotic relationship existed between
the two. Thus, Fizgug could literally eat anything that he could fit
into his mouth, as the slime would dissolve it in the place of stomach
acid.
Somewhere along the way, Fizgug gained the ability to detach parts of
his body, but still have said parts function normally. He could
remove his eyes to look around corners, remove his hands and let them
scuttle off to relieve sleeping guards of their keys, and so forth.
During a moment of inspiration, 'Gug made up a little surveillance
camera by attaching an eyeball to a hand with candlewax, and let the
hand run off to scout around one person's deserted domicile. If he so
wished, 'Gug could remove the hunch from his back for storage
purposes. He could also remove organs, and frequently entertained
guests by showing them what a sewer rat looks like while being
digested.
>What sorts of things do you ALWAYS carry around?
Lockpicks, oil, roaches, some rot grubs (in a jar), dismantled water
clocks, unmarked potions, a magical figurine of Wondrous Power (Ebony
Fly, named "Tsetse."), that kind of thing.
======================================================================
Name: Bizz Spellbound (most common personality)
Zarkon Katura (2nd most common personality)
Rark Quatar (Rare personality)
Author: Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun WWIVnet #17 @11706
Class: Wild (Fire) Mage --- Alignment: CG/CG/LG ---- Sex: Male
Level: 8 ---- Race: Human ---- Armor Class: 10 -------------------
Str: 7 - Int: 19 - Wis: 17 - Dex: 6 - Con: 9 - Cha: 11
Hit Points: 26 WP: Dagger & Staff
Appearance: He stands tall at 6'2 and appears to be in his mid 70's.
He has long grey hair and a very long beard. He wears fire red robes
& sandles has has yellowish green sparkly eyes. He is very skinny and
fragile appearing. He has many wrinkles and looks more unhealthy than
he really is.
Equipment: Robes, belt, pouch, spell components, Staff of Fire
(powers given later), Dagger +3, potion of extra healing, Spellbook
(he also has basic survival equipment)
Spells commonly memorized:
1. Affect Normal Fires * Burning Hands x4
2. Flaming Sphere * Aganwwazors Scorchers x3
3. Fireball x4
4. Wall of Fire * Fire Trap * Fire Charm
Note: I allow him to be a specialist wild fire mage. ALL his magic,
ALL of it deals with wild fire magic - and thats it! - He is a
strange wizard indeed...maybe one of a kind. He spellbook has only
the above spells!
Wand of Fire has 20 charges with the following powers:
1. Affect Normal Fires - 2 charges
2. Burning Hands - 2 charges
3. Flaming Sphere (3 charges)
4. Fire Ball (5 charges)
5. Wall of Fire (6 Charges)
6. Fire Charm (6 charges)
The wand is actually rechargable. In my campaign, it is a staff
though, a Staff of Fire.
NWP: Ancient History of Dalelands, Astrology, Gem Cutting, Ancient
Languange "Thorass," Read/Writting Common, Fire Building
Personality: Sctizophrentic. The first personality is very friendly
and trustful. The second personality is a VERY paranoid wizard who
may cast a fireball at the slightest noise. And the third is a
wizards who thinks he wants to be a fighters and has lost his sword,
and will always be looking for his "lost sword" off & on. The last
personality is very rare, once a week if not less than that. All
three share the following: VERY affraid of water that is more than 2
feet deep. And anything more than 2 - 4 feet across. He is very
clumsy. He is also very careful.
In my campaign he is currently in Jungles of Chult traveling with my
players character.
I leave ALOT of information out so that the DM can slip in stuff. NOT
much is known about his history, were he REALLY claims to be from.
The first personality will claim to be from the Cormyr while the
second will claim to be from the Dalelands which is close of coarse,
and the third will not know. Were he is really from is unknown -
maybe a renegade wizard from Thay?
================================================================================
Rowenarc Silverhand, "The Wanderer", Bard of the North
by ujchoi@uxa.ecn.bgu.edu (Jason Choi)
18th Level Male Half-elven Bard
True Neutral, Atheist
STR 17 INT 15 WIS 14 DEX 16 CON 13 CHR 18
HP:118/118
Physical Description: Rowenarc is 6'ft tall, with an agile, slender
build, tempered by corded muscles developed over years of rigorous
training. His hair is long & black, kept in a ponytail so his hair
won't fall in his face. His eyes appear to be gray in hue, although
his left eye is covered in a black patch. Rowenarc wears all black
garb, a tunic, cloak & hood, boots, leather pants, and a suit of black
chainmail concealed under his clothing. A bandolier of six throwing
daggers lies strapped across his chest, and two Longswords are
sheathed behind his back, forming an X. His face is smooth, chisled,
and bears an elven complexion, giving him a handsome cross of elven &
human looks. His instrument, an ancient elven violin, is always
carried with him. A heart shaped medallion made of a bloodstone is
worn around his neck. Rowenarc's always expressionless, he never
smiles or laughs except at rare times. A slight grin or a raise of an
eyebrow is the only hints of emotion ever to cross his face.
History-
Rowenarc grew up an orphan in the city streets of Yulash, on the
continent of Faerun, and in the world of Abeir Toril. His father was
Zeromus, an ex-Zhentarim soldier who became a superb swordsman and
left the Zhentarim army to seek his destiny elsewhere. During his
adventures he had met another soul akin to his own, an elven maiden
named Twighlah Darkstaff, a Druidess who remained behind in the Elven
Court although her people had left to the secret realm of Evermeet
many years ago. Zeromus and Twighlah fell in love when circumstances
forced them to join together in an effort to rid Twighlahs homeland of
Lyntar, a half-orc assassin priest who brought his small horde of
bandits and orcs to take over the realm and use his power to enslave
innocents or sacrifice them to his Demon God Orcus. Zeromus and
Twighlah, leading a force of Soldiers of Shadowdale, Centaurs, and
Gnomes, had scattered the horde and slayed Lyntar.
Twighlah gave birth to Rowenarc two years later in the City of
Silverymoon. She died during child-birth, which left a broken hearted
Zeromus to play the role of father & mother. Zeromus's spirits sunk,
but somewhere deep within him he mustered the energy and love to raise
his half-breed son.
Zeromus taught Rowenarc skill with the sword and the dagger, just
enough to equip him with the ability to defend himself. He took
further steps to raise his son to become more than he ever was, by
sending him to the University of Chivalry, a school in Silverymoon
that taught Rowenarc a great deal of lessons. Not only did he learn
to read and write in several dialects, he also became a accomplished
artist, poet, and actor. Zeromus in turn became a Knight of Silver,
one of the elite guards of the city.
Graduating from the university, Rowenarc left and went out on his own,
seeking his destiny. He got a job at the Rusted Dagger Inn waiting
tables, though at night, he led a double life as a cat burglar, an
apprentice to Foxxy, an elven jewel thief who was one of the
half-elf's lovers and taught him the tricks of her trade. Life was
good for the pair, as they lived in luxury in a underground loft for a
few years thieving precious art and jewels from the noblilty of
Silverymoon.
But soon the couple's luck took a turn for the worst, when they
unwittingly broke into the Tower of a sorceror who's bodyguard was,
suprisingly, Lyntar, the half-orc assassin who Rowenarc had pegged for
dead. The half-orc had viciously slayed Foxxy with his poisoned axe.
And with the killer's sword had chopped the half-elf's right hand
clean off. The necromancer, hurling a dart at Rowenarc, made a lucky
shot by gouging out the half-elf's left eye. Rowenarc made a hasty
retreat, managing to trip the assassin to the ground and killing the
Necromancer with Lyntar's own poisoned axe by hurling it at the spell
weaver.
Fleeing to his father's house, Rowenarc had found him dead, murdered
by foul magic, black magic. Although the house was not empty, a
wizened man, looking like Moses from the bible, remained hidden in the
shadows, and made his presence known to the half-elf. Rowenarc was
suspicious but kept his anger in check of this stranger, and
eventually discovered the man's name was Storm, a archmage and former
friend of both Zeromus & Twighlah.
Storm revealed that Zeromus had been his bodyguard while Rowenarc was
still a student at the university. He went on to tell that the
Zhentarim had sent a assassin to eliminate him to tie "lose" ends.
Rowenarc, angered, forced Storm to reveal to him the name of he who
ordered his fathers death. Storm had made Rowenarc promise he would
not do anything foolish, and convinced the half-elf that magic would
be needed if he were ever to get close to the Zhentarim Captain named
Nicodus.
Again the halfelf found himself a student, of the arcane arts, and
indentured to being Storm's apprentice. The archmage had crafted for
Rowenarc a silver hand and an enchanted eye, both powerful limbs which
provided supernatural senses beyond those of the norm.
Rowenarc left for Zhentil Keep, and when he arrived there he
discovered it in ruins, destroyed by the wrath of the Gods themselves.
Disraught and troubled, he left his past behind to embrace adventure
and pursue romance, living every day as if it were his last. Now he
journeys the land, in search of ancient knowledge and lore from
various races and cultures. He is particularly intrigued by the
Orient, and things of Dragonkind.
ENCHANTED ITEMS:
SILVER HAND: This enscorcelled limb appears as a silvery gauntlet.
It is capable of handling sharp, extremley hot or cold objects without
the possibility of harm. When handling objects of a personal nature
(I. E a companions sword, or his stolen coinpurse) there is a 50%
chance he can read the phychic impression left on the object (Exp:
someone used his dagger to frame him for murder, he may catch a
glimpse of the murderer's face) While not a weapon, the hand may be
used as a parrying device to knock asside attacks. Further more, it
acts as a ring of spell storing for the following spells: Vampiric
Touch, Spectral Hand, Lich Touch, Sleep *by touch*.
CATSEYE: This artificial eye appears as that of a Tiger's eye. It
grants night vision, and the following: See invisible & ethereal
creatures or objects when concetrating.
Sword of Watery Wrath: This Longsword was forged out of Liquid from
the Elemental plane of water, and is binded together by a rare and
powerful force. It is a +2 weapon, and the wielder must be at least
5th Level or above to wield it properly, and of True Nuetral
alignment, else the blade will transform into a 'Water Wierd' and
attack the wielder. Thrice a day it can be commanded to transform
into a 15 HD Water Elemental, independent of its wielder and acting on
his accord. Because of it's liquid nature, the blade is capable of
changing its dimensions into that of a Shortsword or a dirk. THe
blade acts as a 'Decanter of endless water', and while submerged
completley underwater, a mortal can breath water and gains Free
action. A permenant illusion makes the extrordinary weapon appear as
any other blade.
Rowenarc uses a Thri-Kreen Throwing wedge as a range weapon, his
silver hand easily able to use the weapon without cutting himself.
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NPCs