OsoName:
Stephan 'Stiletto' Scrimshaw
Age:
55/200
Race:
Halfling
Class:
Ranger 2
Appearance:
Personality:
Capricious but cavalier. Life is too short to not make the most of it.
Alignment:
Chaotic neutral
Diety:
"I surely believe in the gods, only a divine force could screw us all over this bad."
Skills:
Survival: As much a skill as a way of life, he knows how to make every day count and spread every morsel of food to its limit.
Bonecarving: As useful a skill as carpentry in this day and his family's surname for good reason.
Music: Not a bard like his mother, he still knows at least two handfuls of sea-songs to pass the time
Poison use: the skill to not kill himself while trying to kill others.
Weapons:
Daggers: His nickname namesake is his seemingly endless supply of the small weapons. Small and light like him but laced with poison from his animal companion. He is skilled enough to dance about in melee to lower his foes to his level and fling the weapon from port to pin someone to starboard.
Items:
Fine leather armor studded with bones he got from his canabalistic cousins, he never ever asked what kind of leather they are made from.
Breeches, shirt, belt, boots, gloves. 100 of rope, bone feast ware in a satchel. Scrimshaw kit.
Boat: No boat.
Background:
Son of a bard and a lucky man. His mother plays music for gifts and he sings along, but he could never get the same passion as she could. His was rote, hers was raw. One day he was playing with some uncooked synth and surprised them ass with his skill at shaping a flute for his mom. It didn't play, but he had the skill she wanted to encourage into something better. They settled down in trees for a few years where he apprenticed under a carver in exchange for music at every meal. A decade slipped past until he was a full journeyman, his mother had fallen in love with the carver and settled in permanently as part of the family. But now his wanderlust stirred, he had to catch the horizon.
He left with a kit and got on a fishermans boat, the first month in they caught a storm and were swept to the jungle. between things that wanted to eat them in the water and things that wanted to eat them in the trees, it was more survival than adventure. Thankfully, He had a skill the tribe did not, so he would leave small shark-jaw carvings and teeth for the canabals, and they would leave supplies for them. Eventually they were rescued by loggers looking for jungle wood and managed to get passage back to the next major population.
That adventure under his belt, he couldn't wait for the next.
Stephan 'Stiletto' Scrimshaw
Age:
55/200
Race:
Halfling
Class:
Ranger 2
Appearance:
Personality:
Capricious but cavalier. Life is too short to not make the most of it.
Alignment:
Chaotic neutral
Diety:
"I surely believe in the gods, only a divine force could screw us all over this bad."
Skills:
Survival: As much a skill as a way of life, he knows how to make every day count and spread every morsel of food to its limit.
Bonecarving: As useful a skill as carpentry in this day and his family's surname for good reason.
Music: Not a bard like his mother, he still knows at least two handfuls of sea-songs to pass the time
Poison use: the skill to not kill himself while trying to kill others.
Weapons:
Daggers: His nickname namesake is his seemingly endless supply of the small weapons. Small and light like him but laced with poison from his animal companion. He is skilled enough to dance about in melee to lower his foes to his level and fling the weapon from port to pin someone to starboard.
Items:
Fine leather armor studded with bones he got from his canabalistic cousins, he never ever asked what kind of leather they are made from.
Breeches, shirt, belt, boots, gloves. 100 of rope, bone feast ware in a satchel. Scrimshaw kit.
Boat: No boat.
Background:
Son of a bard and a lucky man. His mother plays music for gifts and he sings along, but he could never get the same passion as she could. His was rote, hers was raw. One day he was playing with some uncooked synth and surprised them ass with his skill at shaping a flute for his mom. It didn't play, but he had the skill she wanted to encourage into something better. They settled down in trees for a few years where he apprenticed under a carver in exchange for music at every meal. A decade slipped past until he was a full journeyman, his mother had fallen in love with the carver and settled in permanently as part of the family. But now his wanderlust stirred, he had to catch the horizon.
He left with a kit and got on a fishermans boat, the first month in they caught a storm and were swept to the jungle. between things that wanted to eat them in the water and things that wanted to eat them in the trees, it was more survival than adventure. Thankfully, He had a skill the tribe did not, so he would leave small shark-jaw carvings and teeth for the canabals, and they would leave supplies for them. Eventually they were rescued by loggers looking for jungle wood and managed to get passage back to the next major population.
That adventure under his belt, he couldn't wait for the next.
Name:
Snoh Bhaal
Age:
35
Race:
Tiefling
Class:
Cleric
Appearance:
6'6" and swimmers lean build, he's gorgeous and he knows it. Because of his racial resistance to fire, he never suffers sunburns.
Personality:
Highly charismatic and he knows it. Often wielding it as carefully as his knife. He is pragmatic and calculating, keeping himself on the side of the LAW more than the good and evil axis, using it like a shield to protect him.
Alignment:
LE
Diety:
Asmodeous
Skills:
Knowledge, local/nobility/law: A must for him to keep safe from prejudice
Professional Lawyer: A feeds B and B feeds A, one might as well get paid for what one does.
Healer: Even without his clerical gifts, he still knows how to set bones and mend flesh.
Weapons:
Magic: A few spells from his Lords list to keep himself and others alive. AT MINIMUM he always has "create water" and "cure light wounds" memorized in order to remain a helpful cleric..For a price.
Dagger: Nothing special, just a knife of synth. On deck of a ship, he often uses the gaff sticks to keep others at reach or push overboard.
Items:
Tattoos of law: With paper such a rarity, he had taken to penning down laws onto his skin for easy retrieval. He keeps each region on a different part of his body to keep the laws separate.
Leather armor: [Leather vest, leather boots, leather breeches] the days of chainmail clerics is long since past.
Jugs: A set of four gallon containers made from Synth with lids. Water is life.
Boat: No boat.
Background:
In the last great war, as the floods were coming, there were those who made bargains with whoever or whatever would listen. One of those who kept an ear open were the aquatic outsiders (Myrmyxicus, Skulvyn, Wastrilith, Xerfilstyx, Sarglagon and Hezrou) looking to make deals with the desperate. Those that survived were often warped into aquatic half-fiends who still died to the new dangers of their new life. A very few survived and he is the descendant of one of the survivors.
He grew up on the deck of the pirate ship "The Devils' Damsels' ", his mother was the second in command of the blood red boat with flaming sails (permanent continual flame on the canvas) and he spent many years being the only boy on the amazon boat. Sadly piracy is a short lived lifestyle and he found himself floating on the remains of the mast for three weeks with only the single incantation for water to save him.
He was picked up by a dragonborn captain and offered his clerical skills to pay his way onto the ships position as surgeon. One cannot dismiss a life of piracey, but one can hide behind the law for his deeds and do what he can to put some black in his ledger. But if things of a questionable nature come to pass, he will do what he can to lead them through the moral morass with the benefit to them.
Snoh Bhaal
Age:
35
Race:
Tiefling
Class:
Cleric
Appearance:
6'6" and swimmers lean build, he's gorgeous and he knows it. Because of his racial resistance to fire, he never suffers sunburns.
Personality:
Highly charismatic and he knows it. Often wielding it as carefully as his knife. He is pragmatic and calculating, keeping himself on the side of the LAW more than the good and evil axis, using it like a shield to protect him.
Alignment:
LE
Diety:
Asmodeous
Skills:
Knowledge, local/nobility/law: A must for him to keep safe from prejudice
Professional Lawyer: A feeds B and B feeds A, one might as well get paid for what one does.
Healer: Even without his clerical gifts, he still knows how to set bones and mend flesh.
Weapons:
Magic: A few spells from his Lords list to keep himself and others alive. AT MINIMUM he always has "create water" and "cure light wounds" memorized in order to remain a helpful cleric..For a price.
Dagger: Nothing special, just a knife of synth. On deck of a ship, he often uses the gaff sticks to keep others at reach or push overboard.
Items:
Tattoos of law: With paper such a rarity, he had taken to penning down laws onto his skin for easy retrieval. He keeps each region on a different part of his body to keep the laws separate.
Leather armor: [Leather vest, leather boots, leather breeches] the days of chainmail clerics is long since past.
Jugs: A set of four gallon containers made from Synth with lids. Water is life.
Boat: No boat.
Background:
In the last great war, as the floods were coming, there were those who made bargains with whoever or whatever would listen. One of those who kept an ear open were the aquatic outsiders (Myrmyxicus, Skulvyn, Wastrilith, Xerfilstyx, Sarglagon and Hezrou) looking to make deals with the desperate. Those that survived were often warped into aquatic half-fiends who still died to the new dangers of their new life. A very few survived and he is the descendant of one of the survivors.
He grew up on the deck of the pirate ship "The Devils' Damsels' ", his mother was the second in command of the blood red boat with flaming sails (permanent continual flame on the canvas) and he spent many years being the only boy on the amazon boat. Sadly piracy is a short lived lifestyle and he found himself floating on the remains of the mast for three weeks with only the single incantation for water to save him.
He was picked up by a dragonborn captain and offered his clerical skills to pay his way onto the ships position as surgeon. One cannot dismiss a life of piracey, but one can hide behind the law for his deeds and do what he can to put some black in his ledger. But if things of a questionable nature come to pass, he will do what he can to lead them through the moral morass with the benefit to them.
