Post by ryngo on May 31, 2007 9:37:41 GMT -5
Tyrano (pronounced like Cyrano, not Tyrannosaurus)
Human
Ranger Lv 5
Binder Lv 4
Spd 30'
Languages:
Common
Abyssal
Infernal
Str 16 [+3]
Dex 16 [+3]
Con 14 [+2]
Int 14 [+2]
Wis 16 [+3]
Cha 8 [-1]
HP 58
AC 19
T 14 FF 16
Init +3
Fort +10
Ref +8
Will +8
BAB +8/+3
M +11/+6
R +11/+6
Grapple +11
Feats:
Light & Medium Armor/shield proficiency (except tower shields)
Martial/simple weapon proficiency
Track
Exotic Weapon proficiency -bastard sword (free)
Dodge (racial)
Weapon Focus-bastard sword (lv 1)
2-Weapon Fighting
Endurance
2-Weapon Defence (lv 3)
Quick Draw (lv 6)
Improved Binding (Bonus Feat Binder 4)
? (lv 9) Improved 2-W Defence I'm thinking, but I'll have to look at the book to qualify.
Skills:
Survival 12 (8 ranks, 2 Wis, 2 circumstance)
Move Silently 10 (8 ranks, 3 Dex, -1 check)
Listen 11 (8 ranks, 3 Wis)
Spot 11 (8 ranks, 3 Wis)
Heal 11 (8 ranks, 3 Wis)
Sense Motive 10 (7 ranks, 3 Wis)
Search 10 (8 ranks, 2 Int
Swim 4 (3 ranks, 3 Str, -2 check)
Climb 5 (3 ranks, 3 Str, -1 check)
Hide 10 (8 ranks, 3 Dex, -1 check)
Know Nature 5 (3 ranks, 2 Int)
Know Arcane 9 (7 ranks, 2 Int)
Jump 5 (3 ranks, 3 Str, -1 check)
Ride 7 (4 ranks, 3 Dex)
Special:
Favored Enemies (Undead +4, Humanoids-Humans +2)
Wild Empathy
Animal Companion (Lief if I can pick him)
Soul Binding (1 Vestige)
Pact Augmentation (1 Ability)
Suppress Sign
Spells Prepared:
Blades of Fire
Equipment
B.A.G.
MW Bastard Sword "Enix"
MW Short Sword "Issix"
MW Composite Longbow (+1 Str) "Nivin"
Throwing Daggers x 5 "Flingers"
MW Chain Shirt
Healer's Kit
Climber's Kit
Alchemist's Fire x 2
Sunrod x 3
Holy Water x 3
(Tyrano is bound with the vestige Aym for the next 24 hours. He gains:
Dwarven Step: Full movement in any armor.
Halo of Fire: At will he can cover himself in flames that deal 1d6 to anyone who attacks him (no save) without a reach weapon. The flame does not harm objects unless he wills it so.
Improved Sunder
Ruinous Attack: Melee attacks deal double damage to objects
Resistance to Fire 10
+1 Insight Bonus to AC
136 gp.
The old witch was laughing now. This wouldn't have been a strange thing perhaps but for the four feet of brandished steel puncturing her left lung. Red spray puffed through stained teeth as she laughed.
Aravos tightened his grip on the blade and began to twist it.
She laughed harder, but there was pain evident in it now. She was clearly holding it back. She wouldn't give him the pleasure.
"Very well," she scoffed, "You've avenged yourself, you disgusting shit. How does it please you?"
Aravos gave the blade a jerk. "Just die! It's over for you! You've lost."
She cried out and wheezed and fell into a fit of coughing up dark pulsing liquid. The coughing spattered blood in flecks over Aravos's face and hands. Then it turned again into wicked cackling.
Aravos rolled his eyes. The scene was becoming comical. This was not how he had imagined the moment of his reckoning.
"I gave you everything," the old crone sputtered, "I WAS your everything. What have you got now? What are you going to do?"
"I was your puppet," said Aravos simply, "You left me to die when you were done with me."
"But you didn't die, did you? And now your someone else's puppet. Hers. She ever was our enemy boy." She looked at him with a motherly love. "Look what she has done to us," she whimpered pathetically. Leave it to a mother to guilt you as you rid the world of her. The hellhound (now headless in the next room) didn't give him this much trouble. It just died. Why wouldn't she?
"She was never my enemy," he stated very clearly.
"She loves you?" she mocked, "Is that it? She's looked past your black heart and found a prince within? You'll never have her boy. Never completely. She'll think she feels something for you, but you'll get old to her and she'll find some strong adventurous lad looking for a good fit and you are nothing more than their obstacle. You'll find out, kill him, lose her and find yourself wallowing in misery alone wishing you hadn't killed you dear old mother." The cackling again.
Aravos had heard enough. He pulled the blade from her chest releasing her from the wall to which she had been pinned. With an expert twist of the wrist, he spun it back around to her neck and released her head from her shoulders.
She never stopped her cackling. As he set the house aflame and walked out the front door, that head never stopped cackling. That laugh echoed through his dreams ever on.
Perhaps she had prophesied, perhaps she had cursed him, but everything she had said regarding Aravos Wystfalrun came to pass just as she had said it. No one is certain what became of Aravos himself, but Sarya Wystfalrun ever mourned her loss and cursed her fickle nature. She fled to Tertia with her child where he would not find them and found work on a small farm. With her she had brought the ancestral treasures stolen from her husband. The Weapons of the Wystfalruns: Enix, Issix and Nivin. Enix, the blade that slew Vostelle Wystfalrun the night witch, mother of Aravos Wystfalrun.
..........................................................................................................
Tyrano Wystfalrun lived as a laborer on a farm where he cared for his mother and learned to hunt and farm. He took naturally to his duties, and enjoyed his simple life. He loved his mother very much, but wondered why she looked so sad when she thought he wasn't looking. He saved his money telling his mother that he would use it to buy a farm one day and take good care of her there.
"You will not feel that way forever," she would say sadly. "There will one day be someone else, though I hope she is wiser than I. Wystfalruns have ever had a dark and terrible nature."
Her words came true two harvests later when Tyrano began to court a girl by the name of Emily in a nearby town. Sarya would watch them both sad and happy longing for younger days. They were both too young to know much about why they enjoyed each other's company so, but the spark was there.
"Do you think that I would forget you and let you on with your life Aravos?" asked the old crone in Tyrano's nightmares. He'd met this hag in the land of dreams since ever he could remember.
"Tyrano," he would say, "My name is Tyrano."
"I know who you are Aravos, whether you do or no," she would reply. "You're life is not meant for these simple dreams. The hand of Wystfalrun for forty eight generations has only ever been a vessel for destruction. Do not dare to marry. Do not dare to dream. There are far more terrible things in store for you."
"What terrible things?" would ask Tyrano naively.
She would never say, but one night she showed him where, under his mother's bed, he could find the tools of his destiny. When he awoke and looked in the place she showed him, he found the heirlooms of the Wystfalruns. In secret dreams, the crone taught him how to use them. She warned him that a shadow crept across the land. She was right.
It wasn't long before Tertia fell to terrible war and desperate times. Farmers were called from their farms to the safety of the towns. Tyrano and Emily enjoyed being in closer proximity to each other in spite of the surrounding conditions, but it didn't last.
A band of soldiers, the last of their platoon, limped into the town bloodied and infected. There were 9 of them when they arrived. Only 4 of them were able to leave. They spoke of terrible things, of towns burned, of children thrown off rooftops, of girls abused and raped in front of their fathers and brothers, of torture and taunting and starvation.
The old crone visited Tyrano again as he slept. She told him that he would never have his Emily, he would not be able to care for his mother as he wanted, he would not be able to have his farm, but those that he loved might have those things if only he could protect them. She also told him that in order to do that, he must die to himself.
That night Tyrano Wystfalrun disappeared from the village in which he had taken shelter. Though Sarya looked for him anywhere he might be, she was not able to find him. Her worst suspicions were qualified when she discovered that the Wystfalrun blades and bow had disappeared as well. In the business and preoccupation of the town, no one was willing to help her look nor even cared too terribly about her loss. In the back of her mind, she heard the old woman cackling...the old woman she had convinced her husband to murder. The old crone had had her revenge. In the street, Sarya wept.
It has now been several years of warfare in Tertia, and fighting alone at times, and at other times with others walks a man in a black wide brimmed hat and long coat. He carries with him exotic blades that flash and ring in battle before disappearing again into the night. The moon is his friend and the shadows his brothers. As he stalks silently along the thread of his fate, he whispers his name into the night.
"Wystfalrun"
EDIT: Upgraded for 9th level. (finally- sorry, I been lazy)
Human
Ranger Lv 5
Binder Lv 4
Spd 30'
Languages:
Common
Abyssal
Infernal
Str 16 [+3]
Dex 16 [+3]
Con 14 [+2]
Int 14 [+2]
Wis 16 [+3]
Cha 8 [-1]
HP 58
AC 19
T 14 FF 16
Init +3
Fort +10
Ref +8
Will +8
BAB +8/+3
M +11/+6
R +11/+6
Grapple +11
Feats:
Light & Medium Armor/shield proficiency (except tower shields)
Martial/simple weapon proficiency
Track
Exotic Weapon proficiency -bastard sword (free)
Dodge (racial)
Weapon Focus-bastard sword (lv 1)
2-Weapon Fighting
Endurance
2-Weapon Defence (lv 3)
Quick Draw (lv 6)
Improved Binding (Bonus Feat Binder 4)
? (lv 9) Improved 2-W Defence I'm thinking, but I'll have to look at the book to qualify.Skills:
Survival 12 (8 ranks, 2 Wis, 2 circumstance)
Move Silently 10 (8 ranks, 3 Dex, -1 check)
Listen 11 (8 ranks, 3 Wis)
Spot 11 (8 ranks, 3 Wis)
Heal 11 (8 ranks, 3 Wis)
Sense Motive 10 (7 ranks, 3 Wis)
Search 10 (8 ranks, 2 Int
Swim 4 (3 ranks, 3 Str, -2 check)
Climb 5 (3 ranks, 3 Str, -1 check)
Hide 10 (8 ranks, 3 Dex, -1 check)
Know Nature 5 (3 ranks, 2 Int)
Know Arcane 9 (7 ranks, 2 Int)
Jump 5 (3 ranks, 3 Str, -1 check)
Ride 7 (4 ranks, 3 Dex)
Special:
Favored Enemies (Undead +4, Humanoids-Humans +2)
Wild Empathy
Animal Companion (Lief if I can pick him)
Soul Binding (1 Vestige)
Pact Augmentation (1 Ability)
Suppress Sign
Spells Prepared:
Blades of Fire
Equipment
B.A.G.
MW Bastard Sword "Enix"
MW Short Sword "Issix"
MW Composite Longbow (+1 Str) "Nivin"
Throwing Daggers x 5 "Flingers"
MW Chain Shirt
Healer's Kit
Climber's Kit
Alchemist's Fire x 2
Sunrod x 3
Holy Water x 3
(Tyrano is bound with the vestige Aym for the next 24 hours. He gains:
Dwarven Step: Full movement in any armor.
Halo of Fire: At will he can cover himself in flames that deal 1d6 to anyone who attacks him (no save) without a reach weapon. The flame does not harm objects unless he wills it so.
Improved Sunder
Ruinous Attack: Melee attacks deal double damage to objects
Resistance to Fire 10
+1 Insight Bonus to AC
136 gp.
The old witch was laughing now. This wouldn't have been a strange thing perhaps but for the four feet of brandished steel puncturing her left lung. Red spray puffed through stained teeth as she laughed.
Aravos tightened his grip on the blade and began to twist it.
She laughed harder, but there was pain evident in it now. She was clearly holding it back. She wouldn't give him the pleasure.
"Very well," she scoffed, "You've avenged yourself, you disgusting shit. How does it please you?"
Aravos gave the blade a jerk. "Just die! It's over for you! You've lost."
She cried out and wheezed and fell into a fit of coughing up dark pulsing liquid. The coughing spattered blood in flecks over Aravos's face and hands. Then it turned again into wicked cackling.
Aravos rolled his eyes. The scene was becoming comical. This was not how he had imagined the moment of his reckoning.
"I gave you everything," the old crone sputtered, "I WAS your everything. What have you got now? What are you going to do?"
"I was your puppet," said Aravos simply, "You left me to die when you were done with me."
"But you didn't die, did you? And now your someone else's puppet. Hers. She ever was our enemy boy." She looked at him with a motherly love. "Look what she has done to us," she whimpered pathetically. Leave it to a mother to guilt you as you rid the world of her. The hellhound (now headless in the next room) didn't give him this much trouble. It just died. Why wouldn't she?
"She was never my enemy," he stated very clearly.
"She loves you?" she mocked, "Is that it? She's looked past your black heart and found a prince within? You'll never have her boy. Never completely. She'll think she feels something for you, but you'll get old to her and she'll find some strong adventurous lad looking for a good fit and you are nothing more than their obstacle. You'll find out, kill him, lose her and find yourself wallowing in misery alone wishing you hadn't killed you dear old mother." The cackling again.
Aravos had heard enough. He pulled the blade from her chest releasing her from the wall to which she had been pinned. With an expert twist of the wrist, he spun it back around to her neck and released her head from her shoulders.
She never stopped her cackling. As he set the house aflame and walked out the front door, that head never stopped cackling. That laugh echoed through his dreams ever on.
Perhaps she had prophesied, perhaps she had cursed him, but everything she had said regarding Aravos Wystfalrun came to pass just as she had said it. No one is certain what became of Aravos himself, but Sarya Wystfalrun ever mourned her loss and cursed her fickle nature. She fled to Tertia with her child where he would not find them and found work on a small farm. With her she had brought the ancestral treasures stolen from her husband. The Weapons of the Wystfalruns: Enix, Issix and Nivin. Enix, the blade that slew Vostelle Wystfalrun the night witch, mother of Aravos Wystfalrun.
..........................................................................................................
Tyrano Wystfalrun lived as a laborer on a farm where he cared for his mother and learned to hunt and farm. He took naturally to his duties, and enjoyed his simple life. He loved his mother very much, but wondered why she looked so sad when she thought he wasn't looking. He saved his money telling his mother that he would use it to buy a farm one day and take good care of her there.
"You will not feel that way forever," she would say sadly. "There will one day be someone else, though I hope she is wiser than I. Wystfalruns have ever had a dark and terrible nature."
Her words came true two harvests later when Tyrano began to court a girl by the name of Emily in a nearby town. Sarya would watch them both sad and happy longing for younger days. They were both too young to know much about why they enjoyed each other's company so, but the spark was there.
"Do you think that I would forget you and let you on with your life Aravos?" asked the old crone in Tyrano's nightmares. He'd met this hag in the land of dreams since ever he could remember.
"Tyrano," he would say, "My name is Tyrano."
"I know who you are Aravos, whether you do or no," she would reply. "You're life is not meant for these simple dreams. The hand of Wystfalrun for forty eight generations has only ever been a vessel for destruction. Do not dare to marry. Do not dare to dream. There are far more terrible things in store for you."
"What terrible things?" would ask Tyrano naively.
She would never say, but one night she showed him where, under his mother's bed, he could find the tools of his destiny. When he awoke and looked in the place she showed him, he found the heirlooms of the Wystfalruns. In secret dreams, the crone taught him how to use them. She warned him that a shadow crept across the land. She was right.
It wasn't long before Tertia fell to terrible war and desperate times. Farmers were called from their farms to the safety of the towns. Tyrano and Emily enjoyed being in closer proximity to each other in spite of the surrounding conditions, but it didn't last.
A band of soldiers, the last of their platoon, limped into the town bloodied and infected. There were 9 of them when they arrived. Only 4 of them were able to leave. They spoke of terrible things, of towns burned, of children thrown off rooftops, of girls abused and raped in front of their fathers and brothers, of torture and taunting and starvation.
The old crone visited Tyrano again as he slept. She told him that he would never have his Emily, he would not be able to care for his mother as he wanted, he would not be able to have his farm, but those that he loved might have those things if only he could protect them. She also told him that in order to do that, he must die to himself.
That night Tyrano Wystfalrun disappeared from the village in which he had taken shelter. Though Sarya looked for him anywhere he might be, she was not able to find him. Her worst suspicions were qualified when she discovered that the Wystfalrun blades and bow had disappeared as well. In the business and preoccupation of the town, no one was willing to help her look nor even cared too terribly about her loss. In the back of her mind, she heard the old woman cackling...the old woman she had convinced her husband to murder. The old crone had had her revenge. In the street, Sarya wept.
It has now been several years of warfare in Tertia, and fighting alone at times, and at other times with others walks a man in a black wide brimmed hat and long coat. He carries with him exotic blades that flash and ring in battle before disappearing again into the night. The moon is his friend and the shadows his brothers. As he stalks silently along the thread of his fate, he whispers his name into the night.
"Wystfalrun"
EDIT: Upgraded for 9th level. (finally- sorry, I been lazy)
