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Dilvish the Deliverer

[DnD 5E] Talos: City of Intrigue and Adventure!

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Enjoy you week off line Dave.  I'm sure Judas will survive till you get back. :devil:


Week off, my butt. EXEVAL time.

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Yeah, spent a bit too much time on backstory...

Horrik Kordson, Tempest Cleric of Kord




Name:  Horrik Kordson

Race: Aasimar

Class: Cleric 1 of Kord (Tempest)

Background: Noble

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Str:     15 (+2)                        Dex:    13 (+1)                        Con:   14 (+2)

Int:     12 (+1)                        Wis:    19 (+4)                        Cha:   18 (+4)

HP: 10 (1d8+2)

Size: Medium (6’6â€, 210 lb)

Speed: 30 ft

Age: 22

Max Weight:  75/150/225/450


*** Racial Traits ***

Darkvision: 60 ft

Celestial Resistance: You have resistance to Radiant and Necrotic Damage

Celestial Legacy: You know the light cantrip. Once you reach 3rd level, you can cast the lesser restoration spell once per day. Once you reach 5th level, you can also cast the daylight spell once per day. Charisma is your spellcasting ability for these spells.


*** Proficiencies ***

Proficieny Bonus: +2

Weapons:  Simple, Martial

Armor: Light, Medium, Heavy, Shields

Tools: Playing Cards

Saves: Wisdom, Charisma

Skills: History (+3), Insight (+6), Medicine (+6), Persuasion (+6)

Languages: Common, Celestial, Dwarven


***Class Abilities***

Diety(Domain):  Kord (Tempest)

Domain Spells: Fog Cloud, Thunderwave

Wrath of the Storm: (4/day) When a creature within 5 feet of you that you can see hits you with an attack, you can use your reaction to cause the creature to make a Dexterity saving throw. The creature takes 2d8 lightning or thunder damage (your choice) on a failed saving throw, and half as much damage on a successful one.

Known Cantrips: Guidance, Light, Sacred Flame, Thaumaturgy

Spells Prepared:

Default Prepartion: Command, Cure Wounds, Guiding Bolt, Sanctuary, Thunderwave

Spell Slots: 2 (1st)

Spell Save DC: 14

Spell Attack Bonus: +6



AC: 18            Armor: Chainmail, Shield

Initiative: +1


Warhammer     +4, 1d8 +3, B, Versatile (1d10+3)

Handaxe          +4, 1d6 +3, S, Light

Spear               +4, 1d6 +3, P, Versatile (1d8+3)


Handaxe          +4, 1d6 +3, S, Thrown (20/60)

Spear               +4, 1d6 +3, P, Thrown (20/60)



PP: 0, GP: 13, EP: 0, SP: 1, CP: 0


Chainmail (55), Warhammer (2), Spear (3), Handaxe (2), Shield (6), Amulet of Kord (1)

Backpack (5), Bedroll (7), Mess kit (1),

Tinderbox (1), Ration x10 (20), Waterskin (5),
Silk rope 50ft (5), Playing Card Set (-),

Signet Ring (-), Fine Clothes (6),

Scroll of Pedigree (-), Traveler’s Clothes (4)


Armor and Weapons: 69 lb

Backpack/Gear: 54 lb

Total Weight: 123lb (Encumbered, Speed 20 ft)


***Background/Traits ***


Position of Privilege
  Thanks to your noble birth, people are inclined to
 think the best of you. You are welcome in high society, and people assume you have the right to be wherever you are. The common folk make every effort to accommodate you and avoid your displeasure, and other people of high birth treat you as a member of the same social sphere. You can secure an audience with a local noble if you need to.



Despite my noble birth, I do not place myself above other folk. We all have the same blood.

People deserve to be treated with dignity and respect.

I face problems head on.  A simple, direct solution is the best path.



Our lot is to lay down our lives in defense of others. 



I protect those who cannot protect themselves.



I secretly believe that everyone is beneath me.

I judge others harshly, and myself even more severely.



Horrik's comeliness appears almost inhuman.  His blonde hair appears more like spun gold, and his blue eyes sparkle like sapphires.  Despite hours spent outdoors, his skin remains pale, although his cheeks will become ruddy when excited.  While his clothes are of a common style, if you looked closely, the quality of materials and their maintenance bespeak of well made, and well cared for garb.  Horrik is clearly at ease with the working class folk of the tavern and readily joins in, but his posture and bearing, to a trained eye, might pick out a more noble upbringing.



Despite a noble lineage and title, Horrik's family had never lost their connection to their common roots.  They still worked the land alongside their people.  They were never wealthy, but the family was comfortable.  The people were the land, and worthy of protection, respect and honor.  With Horrik, it always seemed different.  Perhaps it was because everyone always placed him on a pedestal in his youth, or an arrogance born of his celestial blood, but Horrik secretly harbored the belief that everyone was beneath him.  His lord father learned of this arrogance and confronted Horrik.  With a sneer, Horrik laughed in his father's face, and woke up on the far border of his ancestral lands.  He had an empty coin purse, a scroll with his pedigree, his signet ring and a note.  "To remind you of what you have lost, I have left you with a copy of your precious lineage and the family seal.  They will be worthless, until you have earned the right to reclaim your family's name.  Perhaps when you have learned to live as the people we are sworn to protect, you will learn the meaning of respect, and your duty to our holdings."  


Horrik barely survived the week.  He hadn't eaten in 5 days.  No one recognized him, filthy and disheveled.  He had been turned away as a beggar, offered nothing but scraps, which he refused.  Now, storm clouds were brewing and he had no shelter.  In despair he dropped to his knees and cried out to the heavens.  There was a flash of light and a thunderous detonation, and like a slap in the face Horrik was sent reeling.  As he looked up, covered in mud, he swore he saw an image of his father before him.  It looked like his father, but this man was heartier, more heavily muscled, as if his father was a warrior, not a glorified farmer.  Horrik shook his head, sure he was hallucinating.  But the image glowed more fiercely.  It spat on the ground and in a thunderous voice it spoke to him. "COWARD!  You bear my blood, but have not the courage to live.  You are sworn to protect those weaker than you, but you cannot even protect yourself!"  With another thunderous detonation, Horrik was smacked back into the mud.  Horrik rose to his knees, jaw clenched.  The image chuckled.  "So, there is some fight in you after all.  But will it be there when you need it?"  Another detonation shook the ground and Horrik was launched into the air, when he struck the ground, everything went dark. 


Horrik woke to find himself lying in a cot in a small, tent.  He tried to move but the pain of multiple wounds tore through him.  A cry of pain escaped his lips. A deep rumbling voice answered, sounding not unlike his visions the previous night.  “So the boy has chosen to rise.† When Horrik turned to the source of the voice he saw an older man, massively muscled despite his age.  A great red beard, fading into grey covered his face.  The man seemed to fill the rest of the tent.  “So, you who bear the mark of the Thunderer, have found the strength to live after all.† Horrik rolled painfully to his side.  “Who?† The man chuckled.  “The blood flows in your veins, he speaks to you, he marks you as one of his own, and yet still you do not know him?  Boy you are a fool.  But a fool can be taught.  Tell me boy.  I find you penniless, lying in the mud, marked by the Thunderer.  Is this what’s left of the life you wish to live?  Or do you wish to learn who you could to be, who you were meant to be?â€


The following years found Horrik studying under Thorvald Kordson, becoming an initiate in Kord’s church.  He was broken down under Thorvald’s strong, but unyielding tutelage.  He found an inner strength, a drive, and more importantly, a desire to serve, to help those without the strength to help themselves.  Four years later, Thorvald handed Horrik his coin purse, a battered old scroll, and a tarnished ring.  “Remember these boy? I found them in the mud next to your body.  Thorvald flipped the purse to Horrik.  Horrik grinned and tucked it into his cloak.  “It’s a reminder of who I was, and where I came from, lest I forget.† Thorvald grinned and laughed heartily.  “Well boy, you’re just getting started on your path, but at least now, you’re ready.  Head to Talos.  I’ve an old friend there, Sigurd.  He runs a tavern, The Vangyarian Axe.  It isn’t pretty, but he’s honest.  He’ll keep a roof over your head while you get settled and you can find your way.  Don’t forget what you’ve learned boy.  Kord is with you always boy.â€



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The meaning of snow Conan?


To dust your enemies.

See them drifted before you.

Hear the Lamentation of the plowman.

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Dilvish, with my Wanderer background ability and the Survival skill, what can Nivin recall of the area between here and the Kolbani Hills, in particular likely ambush points or places where the bandits are likely to be basing themselves?

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Dilvish, with my Wanderer background ability and the Survival skill, what can Nivin recall of the area between here and the Kolbani Hills, in particular likely ambush points or places where the bandits are likely to be basing themselves?

Yes you know that there are several probable points.  As you approach the foot hills there are several canyons and passes that would make good ambush points.  None really better than the others.  You are not too familiar with the area itself as that portion of the foot hills is claimed by House Arturos (one of the 5 oldest and most powerful noble families in Talos).  Only people who have permission from the House can prospect in those areas.

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Anyone have any further questions for Jeren?

Yes, but I didn't want to completely take over the thread, and wanted other people a chance to interact.

Of course, I could just totally take over, and smile, and my Charisma would win you over.


Oh wait, my character's Charisma doesn't translate into the real world?  DAMMIT!

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