NPC Thurdays: A slew of characters

Still working out the kinks here and there with the script for Dragonbreath, but if you see here I’m starting to put all the character together, the casts that will play a part of Mermoz and Ridlee adventures.
I hope to create character Portraits for people to use too. What do you guys think, FULL BODY or just head shots? What do you guys prefer?

NPC Thursdays: Borges the Baker

A Gift of the All-mother

“It as early morning on the street of Caltrop and Pike, and around them people went about their business. Store began to open, doors creaking and inviting the morning sun in, their owners out beating rugs and cleaning the street with a push broom. City guard walked down, starting their morning route through the city. Some walked with their small clubs twirling, giving a rap to the head of any beggars who were still on the street. Some of them even raised their hands in thanks and when on their way, a whole day of beggar business in front of them.
Meredith came walking don the street , now in here work uniform of green colored denim, her hair in a large bun. She was still putting pins in it as she went, her eyes half shut. Rattling with every movement was her belt, filed with oddities and various pouches, small sacks, and compartments, with the one thing standing out was a long stick in a type shoulder holster. The long piece of Rosewood, curled into it shaped seemed to have hair, golden locks woven into it, and stopped at sharp arrow pint shaped red crystal. All this was mounted on Meredith’s young body and the belt rattled on her wide hips, her thick rubber boots clunking away on the cobblestone.
“Hey Merry, how are you?”
Meredith looked as she fastened the last pin into her hair
“Good Morning Borges! how are you?” she said and looked up into the yellow door way. Their stood smoking a pip a large Half-orc, who was wide as he was large, covered in flour, on his face and belly, wearing a worn apron with multiple spots of food on them, he waved to Meredith as she passed
“Wait a tic girl, where are you going in such hurrah?” he said, a deep guttural voice that seemed more animal than humanoid. A deep oaken smell mixed with bread and sugar came out of the doorway, Meredith’s head and nose rose up instantly to catch the delicious tastes.
“Ah, wish I could stay and just smell those sweet breads of yours, Borges, but I’m late for work as is”
“Don’t be silly, girl” Borges came out again, this time with a box twined together in huge hand “You can take it with you!”
“Borges, thank you! I can’t believe this, how much do I owe you?” Meredith received her box of goodies with child like enthusiasm
“Nothing, Merry! After you fixed my stove and got the elemental in line it’s the least I can do for you!”
“Thank you Borges! Your just the All-Mothers Gift are you!” Meredith said leaning in, giving the hulking baker a kiss on the cheek a she left in trot down the street
“It’s nothing girl, you have good day, heh”
And if you doubted it for a second, yes, Half-orcs can blush.

About
Borges is a Half-orc with a good heart. After the war of Falling Sword, Borges could no longer take the ways of war anymore, and soon resigned himself away form the the battlefield. He was a brilliant scout and hisskill had earned him a great name, but he could no longer take the screams of the battlefield. He lived off of the bottle for some years after, becoming homeless and destitute. One days, to escape a horrid winter in Borel, he broke into one of the many stores on Pike Street. He son awoke, and found himself in daylight listening to singing. he turned to find a halfling rolling dough and greeting him in the morning. This wasBalbad the baker, an Halfling General of Trookel, who had become a baker. Balbad greeted him, fed him and soon Borges was renewed, and never touched the a drink again.
Balbad is retired now living with a son in southern island city of Veins, but has left the bakery in Borges well trained hands. Since then Borges has helped his community and his neighbors to make the Pike Street shops some of the best that can be found in Borel, especially with the sweets Borges makes, that some say, have certain spell-like effects.
Notes:
Borges can be looked at as a very minor character for nay campaign, somebody the PCs may occasionally but into and hear about his exploits. I like making characters like this to help flesh out places. Nothing is cooler when your players say “Hey lets go to that city, it has so-and-so there…”

Borges

male half-orc Exp4/Rgr2;
CR 6;
HD 4d6+2d10-6; hp 20
Init +1; Spd 30 ft;
AC 21/18, touch 12, flat-footed 20/17 (+1 Dex,+1 nat,+4 armor,+1 armor enh.,+2 shield,+1 shield enh.,+1 defl.);
BAB +5; Melee light flail +7 (1d8+4) and light hammer +7 two-handed (1d4+2), or light flail +9 (1d8+4), or light hammer +9 light (1d4+4); Ranged throwing axe +7 (1d6+4);
SQ darkvision 60′, favored enemy (1);
AL CG
SV Fort +5, Ref +4, Will +6;
Str 16(+3), Dex 12(+1), Con 11(+0), Int 14(+2), Wis 11(+0), Cha 11(+0).

Skills and Feats: HIDE+4(3), SPOT+1(1), LISTEN+3(3), MOVE SILENTLY+1, bluff+2(2), climb+4(1), concentration+2(3), craft(Baking) +9*(7), escape artist+2(1), gather info+3(3), handle animal+1(1), heal+1(1), innuendo+2(2), intimidate+8(8), jump+4(1), Profession (Baking)+6*(4), pick pocket+3(2), swim+5(2), wilderness lore+2(2); ambidexterity, great fortitude, iron will, lightning reflexes, track, two-weapon fighting.

*Borges has Baking in craft because he can make any size cakes and types of cakes, while his Profession is in running the actual bakery.

Equipment: +1 throwing axe, Amulet of Natural Armor (+1), `Ring – Protection +1, Baker’s Uniform (White denim and canvas)
“Aver’s Wing” Bakery, with 13 employees and various baking equipment and tools to make almost anything (Valued at 27,000 GPCS)

Weapons: (These are not necessarily on him, but are just stowed away) +1 throwing axe, +1 light hammer, +1 light flail, +1 mithral chain shirt, +1 mithral large shield, `, Potion of Bull’s Strength, Potion of Protection From Arrows, Potion of Spider Climb, Potion of Vision, Scroll of Detect Good (CL1), Scroll of Summon Nature’s Ally III (CL5), Antitoxin (vial), 47gp.

Languages: common, orc, infernal, goblin.

NPC Thurdays: High Priestess Camaroo

A Half Moon

“The Air was cool and soothing that night. Borel had been sweltering in the morning, a night of rain had left puddles all over the cobblestone roads. When the sun had burned away all gray out of the sky it made the afternoon hot and humid leaving everyone in a mess. Summer had been hard on Borel, and the seaside city was surrounded by water, causing the heat to collect. Many people were drenched in sweat the whole day, so that now as they walked in procession through the gate of the Temple of Pirsig, the calm cold stone of the building helped relieve one from the musty heat of the city.
Meredith wondered what magic they used to cause such a sensation and as she walked with the throng of people walking into the temple for the Lunar Mass. No apparent runes were present and her mind wondered if it was the architecture that helped the breeze into the building.
Meredith wore here explorer clothes which she bought to a sparkle with some rudimentary spells. She had put on her good cloak over them, to at least look to anyone else as someone simply going to enjoy the proceedings.

The crowd had grown since she started to walk down Averling Avenue to Temple Street. Groups of people came in sporadically from all sides, huddled together. Some were devout followers wearing garbs of silver and purple, different heraldry showing the sigil of Pirsig, aquarter-moon shining with light all around it, an arrow between the 2 horns. Others just were going because it was the thing to do that night, since after the ceremonies there was to be a street festival and various cooks from all around were to show off there dishes. It was all to celebrate the harvest and the luck of the year before the fall came in. Walking up to the gate, many people hid their bottles of this wine or that liquor so as to celebrate in full spirit after the ceremony.
No matter the reason the procession began to quiet as the entered the second gate. People became somber and calm as they came in and had small hints of smiles on their face. Even Meredith noticed a pleasing smirk on her face. Enchanted she looked up at the tapestries that lined the walls leading to the open courtyard where they held the ceremony. Long woven think clothes they were, forty hands high to the roof and fifty to eighty hands long across. Each told talesof valiant and peaceful resolutions. Some told of war and others told of peace, all held within some lesson or another. One told of the great hunger that struck the southern land ofGrome and how a priestess of Pirsig helped the dwarves their learn to cultivate another type of crop. Yet another told of a small kingdom under siege by a mighty barbarian horde being defended by a small retinue of Paladins, who purged the land of the great threat. One thing was constant in all these pictographs: the heroes were anonymous. Many of their faces were covered in helmet or in shadows of cloak or just blurred. Anonymity was one of the key tenants of the Clerics of Pirsig, and this was shown even within their own church.

To each side of the Tapestries, one could see priestesses of Pirsig, nodding and smiling at the passersby. Many were dressed like the heroes of the Tapestry in simple clothes of white with silver trimmings. Each nodded and helped in the procession to the courtyard, all the while seemingly spreading and intensifying the cool clam that had befallen the church to all that entered.

NPC Thursdays: Mikhail the Stick

NPC Thursdays: Mikhail the Stick

“Lanco looked around the busy market street studying the uneven flow of the crowd rushing by him by all sides. He could see all the various faces passing in different forms of attention, some passive, only looking forward as they went, their mind on some menial task. Others walked with attention obviously looking for something or someone within the market. Some faces were open and attentive, yelling and screaming their business however they could hawking their wares.Seeing that no one paid heed to him, Lanco started across the dirty cobblestone street into a section of rag tags tents. Here in theSomner Bazaar were the travelling merchants, a rag tag collection of colorful tents tied together, one by one to various posts. The colorful ceiling rose and fell, 20ft up at times and as low as 4 ft in some sections. Lanco ducked and covered shuffling fast toward the back, the various sights and smells in the bazaar ignored by him as he went to his destination.Lanco was covered in a variety of coats and cloaks, layers bulking up his skinny frame his body jingled and jangled with the load he had, various bobbles andknick knacks he had between the them.

Coming upon a crossroad within the bazaar he looked a bit. One on corner, a Dwarven crone with many missing teeth ( and what teeth she had, she didn’t take good care of) waved he wares at him, a variety of pottery figures and holy symbols in use with a variety of Hedge Magic practices that is used in the poorer neighborhoods. Lanco turned looking for his contact as a halfling on top of a table boasted about how good and big his roasted spicy nuts, all the while holding his crotch to get a laugh form the passing crowds. Still no sign of his contact, Lanco thought about leaving, while a showed various children his wooden toys that bopped in and out of life with a turn of crystal key on them, the children applauding at the sites.

Now a hand clasped his shoulder hard. Lanco looked up to see a large half-orc looking on him, half his face scarred and badly cover by a metal plate with an ofZulzul painted on it.
“This way” it grunted.

Lanco followed, wondering what trouble he bought himself now.
Walking between stalled they came to clearing made of the backs of the tents and here it seemed merchants came to take a break form the bazaar and smoke their pipe and make conversation. One side butted into the Antiquarian House, a four story shadow on from it’s solid 5 foot thick walls.

Looking to the Half-orc, Lanco saw it’s attention was on a small figure walking up to hims. Draped in Black robes, it strode towards the Lanco with a hidden grace. Slightly muffled, it smoke with a whisper.
“Good….day…Mister Lanco. I am Tessona, and I see you have met my associate Grimdurg. We contacted you through your channels because we believe you are in possession of something we seek?”

NPC Thursdays: Silent Joe

“The Smartest Man in the Room”

Darvin shuffled up the steps through the crowded streets and the even more crowded entrance of the Vomiting Dragon; the most notorious shit bar in all of the City of Borel. Located between the Merchant district and both the Sea Port and Air Ship ports in the rancid Green Door District. Here among the poor refugees from the Narrisian front and the starving artist neighborhoods , this is where many of the “Adventurers” would come to meet. Mercenaries, Thieves, Spell Slingers, and Priests of Obscure Gods come to exchange information, make pacts, and group for journeys both of legend and profit. They also come to shit faced dead kobold drunk….

SO among the heavily armored beer drenched warriors, and the scheming sideways glancing rogues, Darvin made his way to the bar. There, working as blur, serving various concoctions that crossed from the 10 known continents, a tall Half Elven girl made her living. All around her people shouted their orders, he only acknowledgement to any of them was a slight nod, or an annoyed glance. Darvin , pushing in, waited till her eyes landed somewhere near him to shout his question. Passing her eyes over him twice, she finally figured he had something to ask. Putting two large mugs of Kaliant Dwarven Lager next to Darvin, where a Grey Half Giant with a huge axe strapped to him and a small Halfing in leather armor, clashed glasses.

“Yeah?!?!”
Startled for a second tried to mouth the words, trying to find the Volume to speak over the crowd to the Half-elf Bartender
“SPEAK!”
Darvin finally got the volume he needed and bellowed over the over the swells of people at the bar
“I”M LOOKING FOR JOE!”
A slender man with fire for eyes standing next to Darvin quipped
“And I’m looking for a drink!”
Raucous laughter followed the crappy joke and Darvin could only rolls his eyes at the idiocy of the drunken crowd. The bartender finally answered as she took a small mammalian brain and dropped into a glass filled with Narrisian Vodka and Elven Cherry wine and hand it to a Squid faced customer in purple robes.
“The back beer garden, by the well!”

NPC Thursdays: Meredith the Mage

“Unexpected Visitor”

Steam rose over the city a mixture of swamp gas and water vapor. The stars were muddied in this haze as the train carrying Meredith plowed past over Roar Tooth sea, on dwarven bridge made wrought iron and stoic architecture. The gaslight making muddied reflections on the water as it past, it’s roar of engines deafening in the dead of where the swamp met the ocean, tall mangrove with their many legged roots scattering into the sea little by little till their was nothing.
The cabins red wood color lit to amber by the lamps swaying above. Other than the hard rumble of the train pushing along muddied tracks, the “ka-thunk” counting the seconds, all was quiet. Meredith folded the paper, the Borelian Bard, and it seemed to be deafening inside her compartment.
Luckily she was alone.

Meredith was always described as a beautiful girl with an old soul. Her pale skin was uneven in powder due to Tilfings humidity, and her hair was a tangle of red wire swept up exposing a long neck. She had khaki men’s shirt that draped over a thin athletic body, and many pocketed vest and pants of worn leather. Her boots were war surplus and made of water proofed Land shark hide covered in muck from three different continents.
She sighed now looking out her window. On her lap was the latest copy the Bard which printed various events from around the known worlds. Meredith was disinterested in the articles about the war, various zeppelin races, and other news of the fantastic. No, she only thought of the destination before her , and the labors ahead. She furrowed her brow at the thought and looked at the darkness outside her window, the forest enveloping the train like the stomach of some mad thing.
She jumped as the cabin door opened.
In came in a Dwarf covered what can only be classified as filth, but in so many layer it was hard to say where one ended and another began. He fell back into the benched seats in front of her and with a half nod to her, fell asleep in a half stupor.
That when the smell kicked in.
Meredith almost gagged when it filled her nostrils. Some perverse cross of bloat dog corpse and wet open ass. She took a handkerchief out fast to cover her nose and only wondered how anybody, or anything could smell that bad. She instantly went to remedy this with a swift motion of her hand and soon glowing arcs appeared in a perfect circle. They glowed brightly in midair like trained lightning Bugs put into a pattern and glowing brightly together, the layer of crusted mud and dirt began to lift off the the unconscious dwarf. The spell was meant to clean almost any sort of grime or filth off anything but it seemed that it would take several application of the spell with the help of an Efreeti amplifier to do nay real good against the man now asleep in front of her. As least for now, she could smell herself, now only having to smell what seemed to be wet dog fill the cabin, that compared to the previous odor, was a pleasantry.

Meredith look at her handy work and saw that dwarf wore runed armor and and had a swagger of tools and weapons upon him. As curiosity touched her, Meredith looked closer to the Dwarf’s person between his tangled burnt beard and encrusted armor to his various seals and such. He was carrying a virtual arsenal of arcane tools and weapons and wondered hoe anyone could let him on a Borealian Rail train, much less the private passenger cart.
“Royal Knife”
Meredith jumped back at the dwarf as he stirred to look at her, he eyes having creaked open.
“What?” Meredith said, her hand already on her Stalgese wand she kept on her for emergencies. It would little to him, but at least she would get a running chance.
“Royal Knife….Ex-Royal Knife actually. Les me on bord to anay train in Borels Bordah”
Meredith eye brows cocked a bit a this. Royal Knives were the Borel Royal Adventure and Exploration Guard made up of some the toughest and deadliest soldiers in the Known world. They were trained to take on Dragons and Giants, and even now were the first to master Planar Travel. They were legends in their own time and kept secret. Now, Meredith was looking at one.

Or maybe just lying sack of monkey spunk trying to impress a girl in a train in the middle of the night.

The Dwarf moved forward a bit and offered and heavily gloved hand to her and on it, she saw the ring that proved his story: an Archenon Circle, a royal seal of service to the King of Borel. Meredith eyes it’s Magical qualities and knew that if it was a fake, it was a fake at least worth of respect.

NPC Thursdays: Terris the Unkillable

The Many Deaths of Terris

“Terris lumbered up the mountain side, cursing as he slid here and there, looking ever behind him. His pants grew louder and louder, straining to get himself up. As much as the gravelly surface hindered him, he could only hope his Ancestors would curse his pursuers with worst luck than him. Going up, he paused at slight Plataea that jutted out of the dull gray rock and looked down upon the scene and gasped.

“The zombies had not let up, they kept creeping and moving a slow methodical climb up, slow as they did, they never seemed to faulter as they went, and were closer than he thought.
“Ancestors fuck me!”
He took up his hefty iron pistol, a warped thing of metal and wood, wrapped around each other into and hard horned point looking more like a silly crusty trumpet, than a weapon. Loading the powder in a deep practiced methodical move, Terris looked up as he rammed the solid metal bearing down the guns gullet. As one of the zombies opened its maw at him, looking upon Terris with an eyeless skull head, writhing in maggots, the Stout dwarf roared as he let loose a shot. The sound thundered across the mountain and the shot sped hard and in mean a spin and ripped through the skull of the zombie, exploding chunks of necrotic flesh about. Seeming to lose balance at the loss of it’s head, it tried to stand on the rolling rocks, and proceeded to tumble, black rotten blood splashing about, rolling down the side, ramming into the plague of zombies as it did, causing a small avalanche of pebbles and half-dead bodies to go down the mountain.
Terris grinned at himself, happy his plan was working. For now.
Terris worked his way up knowing that zombies, as putrefied body bags of plagued meat, were still persistent when a necromancers sends them on their way. And since the last words uttered by the Blackskull Priest was “Rip his cock off and gag him with it”, Terris decided not to take chances.
Reaching a mountain clearing, Terris legs wobbled on hard ground a bit as he got back footing, relieved to have some ground to run on.
Moving his way towards the path that would lead him through, he hoped to make his way down to the Elkoro Forest and hopefully down Eldyne river towards the Roar Tooth sea and be protected at least from the Undead monsters after him. Their at the Red Barter Station he should catch a rail to Borel.

He would have to tend to insane druids before then, but that was a whole other matter.

Moving down, rock to rock, he let his round squat eyes peer into the dark gloom ahead of him, the darkness peeling away under a sudden green glare from his eyes as he peered through. Dwarves, living with the earth, knew darkness before light, and have a hold on keen senses in the darkness. Hopping about, Terris went into a trot as he moved into the rock formations ahead. Moving around he calculated that he could have a good 3 hours break from the zombies if he kept his pace, and if he played his cards, he would reach sunrise by the river and be home free.
He didn’t see the arrow that hit him as so much hear it.
The hard thunk of the metal tip of metal scales made enough force for him to lose a step but could not cause any real damage to him, the point not breaching even his cloth shirt. Looking with wide green eyes, he looked about as looked to see what could have shot him.
That what she wanted.
A snap of a second bowstring and the second arrow lodged in his throat fast enough to sting before the blood pooled out.
Terris fell back, his arms grabbing pistol and short sword out in a fast-whirl,. He labored his breathing any huff, and the blood spilled down his shirts and his throat at same time, never panicking at his fatal wound. This was the control he learned so well as a Royal Knife for the King of Borel, and now his unknown assailant would know how far such a warrior can go.
The would-be assassins clutched the darkness around Terris, trying to creep like shadows upon him.
“Smart fuckas, yeh be, making me shift like that.”
A sliding foot, and twirl of a cloak only answered back
“Knew ya couldn’t hurt a son of da urt by da back, so ya got to get me bai da front, eh?’
More silence and movement
“Well den… not much for talk. So lets get dis over wit!”
A figure came howling in.
Terris met the eye of the assasins with a thrust of his axe swinging wildly with a roar but only catching air. Now he had to backtrack as the black clad assassins came at him, hissing in a foreign tongue for his death.
“Come oon now, you sons of beeches, les’s see what ju got!” bellowed the already wounded dwarf, not sure if this was his end in this world.
The shorter of the two murderers coiled back, as the other closed in blades swinging in sequential arcs of steel. Certain death would have befallen Terris, but dwarven training and magical prowess came to aid, his magical axe covering several blows. As one blow glanced off his armor, Terris winds around, slicing down. The assasin reels back, the axe humming as it slices the cloak of the black thing that walked as man.
That’s when the others shadow seemed to ripple and came at Terris with preternatural speed the blades dripping green gore and smoking haze.
Terris did not flinch, but met what he guessed to be the assasins face with bloody swear and swiped at the shadow. The axe now bellowed as it sank deep into the shadowed flesh. What seemed to sound like whore queefing exuded from the wound and the thing fell with a sick thud, a sick piece of meat wrapped in rags.
The other shadow curled about the rock walls seeming to be astonished at it’s compatriots death
“Aight, ya’ piece of black sissy smoke, come meet yer end, too!”

******

Terris is a veteran adventurer, soldier, spy, and thief and has a wealth of knowledge and experience in everything of Essidarius, from it’s people and politics to magic and the supernatural. They Call him Terris the Unkillable, because many of the famous stories have him dying in the end. This is al Terris idea, for the best way to cover ones tracks is to misinform and he uses that to his advantage.
Terris is a good man, all in all, but he doesn’t mind getting dirty in any way, and has been known to associate with both good (his child hood friend, Semec, is Dwarven High Priest of Grome) and also the bad (He buys his daily weed and plays chess with Guuuttrrrrkrunch, a Mindflayer herbalist) so it’s possible he will seek out bale bodies to help him in vairous quest and could be a source for adventure ideas for your characters and for your campaign.

Rumors:
+Even though the Royal Knives are now out of Active duty and are only held as retinue to the Good Prince of Borel, Terris seems to be the most visibly active, coming in and out with various stories and odd tales. Many of these stories seem to not make sense when you put them together, which maybe a way for Terris to keep misinforming and making sure people don’t know the truth of his comings and goings.

+Some Believe Terris to be a rogue agent of the court, somebody doing the dirty work for the Prince so that he may not get his hands dirty. Others says that the Prince himself and other Royal Knives want him dead as much as anyone else.

+Terris recently has been seen in the northern plains and hillside cities and town with a necromancer named Shadib Null and has been helping him against some new secret evil.

Terris, the Unkillable, Member of the Royal Knives

male mountain dwarf Brd2/Rog7/Rgr3 CR 12
HD 9d6+3d10; hp 56
Init +4 Spd 20 ft

AC 28/24, touch 16, flat-footed 28/24
(+4 Dex,+2 nat,+4 armor,+2 armor enh.,+2 shield,+2 shield enh.,+2 defl.);

BAB +9; Melee trident +12/+7 (1d8+5+2d6 holy) and punching dagger +12 two-handed (1d4+3+1d6 fire/x3), or trident +14/+9 (1d8+5+2d6 holy), or punching dagger +14/+9 light (1d4+5+1d6 fire/x3); Ranged BRONZEARMS PISTOL +15/+10 (1d8+6/x3)

SA sneak attack +4d6, +1 attack vs goblinoids, +1 attack vs orcs;

SQ +2 save vs fear, +2 save vs spells, +4 dodge vs giants, bardic knowledge, bardic music, darkvision 60′, evasion, favored enemy (1), uncanny dodge (AC), uncanny dodge (flank);

AL CN;
SV Fort +7, Ref +13, Will +5;
Str 18(+4), Dex 18(+4), Con 11(+0), Int 13(+1), Wis 9(-1), Cha 17(+3).

Skills and Feats: HIDE+8(5), SPOT+8(7), LISTEN+7(6), MOVE SILENTLY+7(4), appraise+4(3), balance+11(6), climb+9(6), decipher script+4(3), disable device+2(1), disguise+4(1), escape artist+6(3), forgery+2(1), jump+14(9), knowledge(arcana)+3(2), knowledge(geography)+2(1), knowledge(religion)+2(1), open lock+10(6), perform+8(5), pick pocket+9(6), spellcraft+3(2), tumble+16(11), use magic dev+8(5), use rope+5(1), wilderness lore+3(4);

alertness, ambidexterity, combat reflexes, endurance, great fortitude, quick draw, track, two-weapon fighting.

Brd Spells Known: (cast 3/1) (DC = 13 + spell level) 0–Detect Magic, Flare, Mage Hand, Mending, Open/Close; 1–Grease, Hypnotism.

Equipment: +1 Bronzearm Pistol (distance), +1 punching dagger (`flaming), 39 +1 bullet(s) (distance), +1 trident (`holy), +2 adamantine chain shirt (spell resistance (13)), +2 mithral large shield (blinding), Bag of Holding (Bag 2), Candle of Truth, Scarab Golembane (stone), `Amulet of Natural Armor (+2), `Cloak of Charisma +2, `Gauntlets of Strength +2, `Gloves of Dexterity +2, `Ring – Protection +2, Archenon Circle, a royal seal of service to the King of Borel, Potion of Alter Self, Potion of See Invisibility, Potion of Vision, Scroll of Detect Good (CL1), Scroll of Detect Secret Doors (CL1), 21 gp.

NPC Thursdays: Bran the GIANT Farmer

“The Giant city and it’s Giant Farmer”

The Borel City’s cliff side came out of the fog like a emerging giant. High and omnimous, it shadowed the chittering Irokas as they moved twards Roar Tooth bay, making it appear as a mosquito buzzing by an ear.

“Damn, that shit is huge!”

Bergin’s exclamation woke Hart’s mind from looking at the impressive vista, and he almost chuckled at seeing Bergin’sjust a tad bit of fear, at the fearsome cliff sides. Hart put his arm around Bergin’s shoulder which only reached his waist, trying to comfort the halflng against such a formidable sight. Thier form a far was a Stone Giant with a huge cudgel in hand walking towards the thr field of Mage roots small face look in awe, and

“Makes you feel sort of small, ay, Bergin?”

“I’m small enough as it is, this just scares the crap out of me”

“Not to worry we won’t be long at the Spearpoint”

Bran

Bran was born Karnaago the Butcher 30 years ago. As a young Stone Giant, he followed his tribe and his father into battle against the other Giant races in the Land of Talmeer, in the Mountains of Gromun. Slaying and subjecting other races to their will,Karnaago’s tribe soon ruled the several valleys in the mountain range and held it with a terrorising grip. Until a young Human druid named O’hill showed up on the front door of the tribe, demandingthier surrender. The stone giants formed a tight circle around the small human, and laughed wondering how to punish such impudence.
O’hill gave his legendary good nature to work on them explaining how it would benefit them and the other tribes to work together towards something better. Again the stone giants gave mighty roars of laughter at the little druid. Finally one came down with a boulder on toO’hill’s head, to crush from one time, when the boulder stopped in mid-air, it became clear to the Giants that this was no ordinary wandering druid.
After the clash as many of the Stone Giants were soundly beaten and left on the floor, it was Karnaago’s father, Mol-da-ur who bowed to the mighty druid, asking for mercy. O’hill was fine with this and only asked to raise the sons and daughters in a the new way of thinking in Peace, or he would come to clean them out of existence.
It was the next year when O’hill came to see Karnaago’s tribe’s progress that the was met with grim scene: their in the huts was every single tribe member slaughtered. Every single male was slain in combat and astonishingly, by something bigger. It was only because of a thunderclap that O’hill found the last member. Concealing himself as a small woodland creature, O’hill witnessed 5 Maelstrom Giants taking turns beating on a young stone giant; Karnaago. Tossing him around and beating on him, it wasn’t until they got bored that they now through lightning bolts at him. Finally, trembling to that ground the Stone Giant cried for Mercy. In the the largestMealstrom Giant stepped forward, the obvious leader, a bolt of lightning crackling in hand, laughing how such a pathetic thing could lives on this planet.
Then the Maelstrom Giants head exploded.
The Gang turned to find O’hill standing their, his good nature gone. The very forests and earth seemed to tremble with his anger. The Maelstrom Giants called upon all their wild and horrible magic and soon a battle of winds, flame and blood arose. After many an hour, when the winds died down, and a sun could finally be seen setting, O’hill, battered and a bit broken emerged victorious. It was a bitter thing, after such a loss, but when he found the young stone giant still alive he know he could make right. Taking O’hill under his wing, he helped heal and restore the young giants body and eventually his mind. ThroughO’hills contacts, he was able to find a new home for Kaaarnago within a commune of Hill, Mountain, and Arboreal Giants.
O’hill went on to many adventures and before vanishing in the battle of the Falling Sword, O’hill visited Karnaago, now taking the name Bran, for many years. Bran had grown to become a farmer supreme and having developed various system to help irrigate and grow crops in some of the harshest terrain without the aid of Magic. With that in Mind, O’hill asked him to come to Borel and help with crop problem one year after blistering droughts had destroyed crops. Bran saved the people of Borel and having found a place needing his incredible skill, Bran stayed and now helps all the co-op farming that happen in and around Borel, both with his skill and strength.

Bran is a good character for Nature based PC’s to know, since he will know much about the local geography, various plant bases and Minerals. Bran also has constant contact with the Copper Leaf Guild, with the many druids who come in a out of Borel, and those who won’t. He can also be par of the many cast of characters you can throw at the PCs; nothing is odder than seeing a Stone Giant slowly planting tulips in the middle of the forest.
Rumors:
+Rumors surround about Bran being part of a group who plan to over throw the current ruler of Borel, seeing him as a threat to the natural order of things. Bran is bit a of Luddite hen it comes to magic, so that may support it.
+Others says that helps supply a Night Hag living in the Dark Quarter with rare plants for poisons and lethal potions.
+Bran has been seen skulking about the southern forests at times, and some say that he has found a love interest their of some sort, but has not divulged to anyone who it could be.

Bran the Farmer
male giant, stone Com2/Drd1
CR 10; Size L (12 ft., 0 in. tall)
HD 14d8+84 + 2d4+12 + 1d8+6; hp 188
Init +5 (+5 Dex); Spd 40 ft.; AC 25 (+5 Dex, -1 Size, +11 Natural)
Attack +21/+16 melee, or +14/+9 ranged;

SV Fort +17, Ref +9, Will +8; AL N;

Str 34, Dex 21, Con 22, Int 12, Wis 15, Cha 18.

Languages Spoken: Common, Druidic, Giant, Infernal.

Skill points: Com 15, Drd 5
Skills and feats: Climb +14, Concentration +2, Herbalism +5, Hide +9, Jump +14, Knowledge Local +4, Listen +2, Profession: Farming +8, Pick pocket +7, Ride +6, Scry +5, Spot +5, Swim +18, Use rope +10, Wilderness lore +3; Green Thumb, [Point blank shot], [Power attack], [Precise shot], Skill focus (Profession: Farming), Human Raised

Possessions: +1 Huge Cudgel (Used as a plow), Large Leather overalls, Symbol of O’hill, and large ledger (His Almanac), Large Pencil

Druid Spells Per Day: 3/2.

NPC Thursday: bonus PDF!

Decided to put together an easy to print PDF of DAVO for folks to use in their campaign. I hope that by the end of the year, we can compile hese with some other illustration and make out a book for people to use.

DAVO_PDF (Right click to Download)

NPC Thursdays: Davo the Fence

“Byron was a bit of a tard. Well not a total tard, but a dense idiot as his mother would say.
He did follow directions like nobodies business so for errands he excelled….. as long as it was simple.
So when the man in the big shining armor and squat old fart in dusty robes asked where they could find Ungical Corridor Conjuring Stim, he could only blink.
“I told you this was a bad idea, Fim, it likes nobody in this corner of Borel could solve our problems without shitting themselves”
The Dwarf looked at his shining Human partner and his face was a fist of consternation
“Baldwin, ye a man of little faith for a shining ponce paladin”
Byron looked as he saw these men speak back and forth, cursing one another for lost time.
“Davo”
The men stopped for a second.
“Davo”
Baldwin looked down at the boy, cocking an eye and tilting his head
“Great we broke him”
“Nah” Byron spoke up “Davo could help ye with yer…..thing….you need”
“Who?” Fim said, now thinking Baldwin was right.
Now Byron only pointed across he way, as a tall blond man wearing a large Black cloak and a crooked grin.
“Gentlemen! I believe you need something extraordinary for something amazing that is quite incredible, right?”

Borel is a city of Possibilities, be it with it’s towering spires obscured by clouds, it’s floating islands up in the sky, or the mix of sentient species that walk it’s cobble streets intermingling. In this street various products are to be sold, the races of man and of other worlds cross to garner new wonders and object of desire. Be it raw Arcanium ore or a Bottled Efreeti Engine to innocuous things such spices like pepper or mage root. In this city, all things are for sale, and if one is looking hard enough, one can find it.

When adventurers are looking for an odd reagent or a magical piece of equipment that Borelian Authorities may not like (Hint: stuff that goes boom) many people will deny or shrug of having such a thing, but many will point them to one individual: Davo, the Fence.

One of the few Humans who survived the horrors of the Falling Sword as a child, Davo, orphaned, grew up in and around Borel, seeing it’s rebirth form beginning to end, and watching as it slowly hosted various creatures from every end of Essidarius and soon, even other Planes.

He soon became the contact man for any and all materials, and was given the name the “Fence” not only for his skill in retrieving items but in also selling them. He is a go to man for Obscure goods making him friend and associate to many a Spell caster, but also to adventurers, Heroes and anyone else in an odd occupation.

He is also very Xeno friendly having learned to speak enough languages to communicate and get along with many of the races that make Borel it’s home. This has given Davo access to everything but he doesn’t let this sit pretty. Intense in his profession, Davo is friendly face to all, and can lead the way for any PCs needing a certain item. He exceeds in Black Market items also but without the further nod, introduction, or fee, he will deny any involvement in such matters and send you on your way, with someone tailing you along the way.
Davo tends to wander the Silver Roots Market along the river in the mornings and then go east to the Valliden Market in the afternoon, finally resting at the Vomiting Dragon down by Central Square at night. No one knows for sure where he resides, but he does have his contacts. Once word is out he’ll find you.

Davo, is a good character to know for the PCs and can help them in all manners of things, as long as they have the gold for it. He can also be a very good source for the DM, since he can offer various services for the characters to do and help them find work and adventure. He is very neutral in most of his exchanges and seldom introduces dangerous people to dangerous things, but is not hesitant in protecting his business and his city either.

Davo, the Fence

male human Rog5/Wiz2 CR 7

Size M (5 ft., 6 in. tall); HD 5d6+5 + 2d4+2;

hp 29 Init +8 (+4 Dex, +4 Improved Initiative)

Spd 30 ft. AC 14 (+4 Dex, +3 Studded Lather, Ring +1, Amulet +1)

Attack +6 melee, or +8 ranged

SV Fort +2, Ref +8, Will +5 AL CN

Str 14, Dex 18, Con 13, Int 19, Wis 13, Cha 12.

Languages Spoken: Common, Elven, Giant, Halfling, Terran, Undercommon, Ignan,

Skills and feats: Climb +10, Concentration +2, Decipher Script +11, Disable Device +10, Disguise +8, Escape Artist +10, Forgery +12, Gather Information +7, Hide +12.5, Jump +8, Knowledge (Arcana) +6, Knowledge (Dungeoneering) +8, Knowledge (Geography) +5, Knowledge (Local) +12, Knowledge (The Planes) +7, Listen +9, Move Silently +10, Open Lock +10, Spot +7.5, Tumble +13 (Skill points: Rog 104, Wiz 14)