Thormar Half-Hammer

ubiquitous Mon Mar 26, 2012 4:41 pm

Thormar Half-Hammer
Human Barbarian 1

Attributes:
Str: 9 (-1)
Dex: 13 (+1)
Con: 16 (+3)
Int: 10 (+0)
Wis: 16 (+3)
Cha: 15 (+2)

HP: 15
AC: 11 (touch 11, flat 10)
Speed: 30'

Saves:
Fort: +5
Refl: +1
Will: +3

Initiative: +1
BAB: +1
CMB: 0
CMD: 11

Skills:
Craft
Diplomacy 1 (+9)
Handle Animal
Heal 1 (+7)
Intimidate
Knowledge(nature) 1 (+4)
Knowledge(local) 1 (+4)
Linguistics
Perception
Profession(cooking) 1 (+7)
Ride
Survival 1 (+7)
Swim
Languages: Common, Elven, Dwarvish

Feats:
Cosmopolitan (Elven, Dwarvish, Linguistics, Knowledge (local))
Skill Focus (Diplomacy)

Class Abilities:
Weapons: Simple/Martial. Armor: Light/Medium
Old Barbarian: Replaced Acrobatics/Climb class skills with Heal/Diplomacy.
Rage: 7 rounds/day, +4 Str/Con, +2 Will, -2 AC.

Equipment:
Body: Servant Clothes

Weapons:
Dagger (d20+0 attack, 1d4-1 damage, 19-20/x2)

Other Items:
Notebook
Inks + Pens
Coin Purse (5g 8s 20c)

Description:
The man standing before you is old and weary. More lines crease his face than a crumpled sheet of paper - some wrinkles, some scars, some the outlines of faded markings that trace warlike patterns across his hollow cheeks. A mane of greying hair covers his head, while a close-cut beard frames his broad, sunken face. The only liveliness about him burns in his blue eyes, which stare with furious intensity at whatever catches their focus.

He stands permanently slumped, as if carrying the weight of his years on his back like a turtle. He would be tall, were it not for this arc of his spine. Ink stains and age marks splotch his hands, and faded tribal markings encircle his thin arms, disappearing into the baggy sleeves of his worn grey robe. A leather belt cinches the robe in at his waist. A tatty book hangs off a belt-ring, next to a small dagger and a coin purse, and the three clunk together amiably with his movements. The belt's pouches are blotched with various-coloured inks, betraying their contents.

When he speaks, the man's voice rumbles like thunder through a cavernous room, though his speech is pitted with sighs and groans. Yet, he is hard to ignore. Though his Common is marred with a foreign dialect, he slips between languages with the ease of years.