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Post by phulishone on Jul 27, 2007 19:07:54 GMT -5
Player name: Phulishone Character Name: Gileard Aliases: Rhett Butler, Maphoof, "Horsey" (not a favorite of Gileard's) Race: Wendel Centaur Classes: Barbarian 3/Scout 3 Alignment: Chaotic Good Occupation: Cartographer
HP: 80 AC: 26 BAB: +7/+2
Appearance: (see next post)
History: (see next post)
Other notes:
Rage lasts 8 rounds +12 HP when raging Touch AC: 16 Flat-Footed AC: 20 (Improved Uncanny Dodge = Extremely Rare)
STR: 22 DEX: 22 CON: 17 INT: 14 WIS: 15 CHA: 12
Fort: +9 Reflex: +15 Will: +9
Feats: Regional - Heroic Surge Dodge Mobility Spring Attack
Skills: (posted only skills with ranks in them, added bonuses for quick reference)
Craft (Maps) +8 Intimidate +12 Knowledge (Dungeoneering) +7 Knowledge (Geography) +7 Knowledge (History) [Ansalon] +3 Knowledge (Nature) +7 Listen +8 Move Silently +8 Search +5 Sense Motive +12 Spot +8 Survival +10
Abilities:
Rage 1/day Fast Movement +10 (Barbarian) Fast Movement +10 (Scout) Darkvision 60ft. Trap Sense +1 Uncanny Dodge Improved Uncanny Dodge Skirmish +1d6/+1 AC
Spells: (none)
Equipment Body: Mithral Chain Head: Scout's Headband Face: Neck: Silver Holy Symbol of Gilean Arms: Hands: Feet: Horseshoes of Speed (+30 ft) Back: Cloak of Resistance +2 Torso: Saddlebags with lots of stuff Waist: Rings:
Money: 16 gp 3 sp 7 cp
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Post by phulishone on Jul 27, 2007 19:08:41 GMT -5
Background
“Been a while, hasn’t it, Horsey?” A deep voice positively smiled as it spoke. The voice’s owner was sitting at an outside table of a local bar, taking in the moonrise and enjoying the starry night. The bar had been chosen as it was at the very edge of town, close to the forest.
“I told thou not to call me that. I shall stomp on thy foot next time, I swear I will. And thou only hath two of them.” From the darkness of dusk, the clop clop of hooves walked forward, and this voice was not smiling. Not angry, but quite serious. “Plus, thou are not wearing thy metal shoes at the moment, so I would think it would hurt quite a bit.”
“The Sword, Gileard! You know I was only kidding. Pulling your leg, you know?” The first voice stood up, and the light of the bar lit up a scruffy human face, grinning despite his slight uneasiness.
“Pull my leg and I kick. Thou should know that, Sir Godrick.” The hooves stopped, and a man’s face, not too pretty, not too ugly, moved into the light. This short human’s black hair was pulled back into one large braid that fell back behind a rough looking cloak that was clasped together with a silver book. The cloak, however, didn’t seem to fall to the ground quite right, and there was no shirt underneath it. This showed off Gileard’s odd chest, which had a very defined ribcage that was accented by what appeared to be bony plating. The rest of the musculature under the cloak was also well developed, and there were additional bony plates at the shoulder and elbow joints.
“Just Godrick is fine, Gileard. The Solamnic Knights and I don’t see eye-to-eye as we once did.” Here, the human’s grin faded for a moment, and Godrick took a long swig of the mug on the table. With a slam back down, the liquid inside was gone and the smile was back. “Gods, it’s good to see you. When was the last time? Caves of Mount Brego, wasn’t it?”
“Thon-Thalas River. The wild Minotaur the elves could not be bothered to deal with so they asked thou and I.” Gileard moved more into the light, and any remaining thoughts of him still being human were dissolved as his lower body became visible. The hooves of before belonged to him, and it didn’t take a smart person to know that he was a centaur. Though it might take one to know that centaurs are normally larger than a war pony, and don’t have bony plates at nearly every joint of their body – though most would think that last bit was unusual. Using this new information, the alleged smart person would identify Gileard as a Wendel Centaur. “Mount Brego was before that. Thou helped me with these before thou and I went into the caves, remember?”
Gileard raised a hoof and tapped the bottom, where a brief flick of the candlelight showed a golden horseshoe, stained with much travel. Godrick smirked and sat back down. “Ah yes. Good times, good times.”
There was silence for a time as the two of them both stared awkwardly at anything but each other. It was broken when Godrick burped.
“Excuse me. ‘Friad that’s been happening more frequently.”
Gileard couldn’t take it anymore. “What happened to thou, Thomas? Ye were once the proud and noble Sir Thomas dun Godrick, Solamnic Knight of the Sword. Sometimes thou were so disgustingly righteous, I felt like I would puke. But now, I feel as though I will puke most righteously from how disgusting thou are.”
“Oh, Gods, not you too,” Godrick sighed and stared down at his empty mug.
“Part of the reason thou and I stuck together was so thou might teach me what thou claimed was the greater good. I learned, Godrick. I still do not agree with all that thou taught, but I do like to think I am better for the teaching. I… do not like to see a teacher so,” Gileard stared right at Godrick, who still wasn’t looking back.
“Leave me alone. I’m sorry I called you here,” he waved a hand in a dismissive gesture.
“No. The man I knew walked proudly besides what some saw as a monster, called me friend when all I wanted to do was kill something – anything. Stopped me from doing it several times. Bought me my first set of map-making tools, listened to me when I could not use them correctly. It was thou who negotiated with the dwarves so that they would make me my special armor and shield, and repair my father’s axe. And it was thou who gave me his old winter blanket when I was cold.”
“Enough. Go. Just, go, Gileard.”
“I will not.”
“Stubborn horse.”
“Stupid human,” Gileard raised a hoof and lightly pressed down on Godrick’s boot.
“OW! That hurts! Get your weight off of me, unkempt cretin, or I shall be forced to draw my blade and defend myself,” Godrick stood up awkwardly in pain and reached for a sword he didn’t have. At his full height, he would have been a good foot taller than the centaur, but since one of his feet was being almost crushed he couldn’t stand completely and ended up looking at Gileard eye level.
“Now thou sounds like the old Sir Godrick I know and respect,” Gileard moved his leg away. “A big baby, but one with a bite. He would not stand here, drunk and disheveled, but would tell his friend the problem so that it might also be stomped upon.”
Godrick glared at Gileard as he finally reached his full height. The centaur glared back. The two of them had fought many times, sometimes for an actual reason, and in terms of pure physical strength, Godrick paled in comparison. With a sword in his hands, Gileard might have had doubts, but weaponless, the human was no match for the centaur. And all Gileard really had to do was unsling his father’s Battleaxe and the fight would be over even quicker.
Godrick knew this too, and his eyes flickered down to the overly sharp looking axe hanging at Gileard’s right side. Partly covered by the cloak, Godrick had seen Gileard pull it out and use it with deft efficiency. Sometimes with alarming efficiency. The last thing Godrick wanted to do was make Gileard angry.
The ex-knight sighed. “Fine. If you must insist on knowing…”
“Knowledge for knowledge’s sake is the finest kind. Knowledge for my own curiosity is a close second,” Gileard stepped back, no longer threatening, though in his brown eyes there was still a look of warning. “So my mother taught me.”
“I was hoping you didn’t remember the Minotaur. Thon-Thalas River was a mistake, Gileard. Sure, the elves asked us to handle the problem, but we… we messed up,” Godrick slumped back down into the chair, head in his hands.
“How? The Minotaur was wild and uncontrolled. Barely even sentient and very disfigured. Thou and I only just managed to take it down on our own. But we did not do anything wrong to the river or the forest bordering it, and we did take it down.”
“That’s just it, Gileard. It was a proto-beast. The first of it’s kind. Very old. The elves who asked us to take it down were little more than children as elves go, and they were upset that one of their own had been hurt by it. It was the right thing to do at the time, but after… well the elder elves knew what we had killed. For some reason, they weren’t happy. Claimed that they would have dealt with it if the problem became worse, but that it was a crime to kill something so ancient. Something made by the gods in the first age. It all went political. They… they wanted to charge us with murder. The knights took my report, saw that we thought we were doing the right thing and negotiated.” Godrick looked down at his empty mug once more, and then faced the centaur. Tears were barely held back.
“What did they negotiate for?”
“My safety. I live, you take the full responsibility.”
“The Knights of Solamnic tried to shift the blame!?” Gileard was shocked.
“Not… not all of them. Just the ones who see you as a… as some kind of… that don’t know you as I do. The ones that have seen you fight, and seen you lose your normally calm demeanor. But I told them the truth. Told them that it was my blade that landed the fatal strike. Pointed it out that I’d already said that in my report.”
“So Sir Godrick was still Sir Godrick at that point.”
“Yes. But not for long. The elves heard that and gave us a new offer. I was to be stripped of my lands and title, and was no longer to be a Knight.”
“That is ridiculous. Thou followed the Measure. No Knight of the Sword would have done any differently in thy situation.”
“True. Yet to make peace, I was asked to leave. I agreed… but on one condition,” Godrick’s voice wavered for a second, but his jaw was firmly set. A smile played on his face again, lightly.
Gileard was about to ask, when he realized it.
“Me. Thy condition was me.”
Godrick nodded his head, sad but proud. “Yes. All charges against you have been dropped, Gileard.”
“Righteous bastard. Stupid, stupid human! Thou had but to call for me, and I would have stated my own case. Thou and I would have both been free of these charges!” Gileard spit on the ground. “This! This is the kind of thing that made me want to puke every time you did something so sickenly sweet.”
Godrick seemed to ignore this outburst. Just wiped his eyes with his hand and stared at the stars. “I know the reason. They were afraid, Gileard.”
“What?” The centaur sputtered mid-rant.
“The elves. They were afraid the minotaurs would find out. The sentient ones in Silvanesti. The elves had already been driven out from parts of the forest because of the minotaurs, and have been trying to make peace for years. If it got out that a proto-minotaur had been killed at elven request, it would have been bad. That’s why the Knights were willing to let the elves force me to resign. To preserve the peace.”
“Ridiculous. Those minotaurs would have understood, and if not, I would have gladly gone down there and explained it to them. I hear they settle things by combat of strength sometimes, and I would think that they would have willingly made this one of those times. It is not too late for that, actually.”
“The matter is settled, Gileard,” Godrick said with a sudden wariness.
“Thou are right, thou are right. I won’t go to see the minotaurs…”
“Thank you.”
“…first. I’ll go to the Knights. Sir Voldum liked me – and thou - well enough, he shall help, I am sure. And if not… if not, I’ll stomp on his foot too. Hard.” Gileard turned to leave, back into the darkness.
“Gileard! No!”
Godrick jumped and managed to grab a hind leg, jerking it back to keep Gileard from leaving.
“Sorry, Thomas. No. Sorry, Sir Godrick.” Gileard pulled his hind legs in and pushed outward rapidly, knocking Godrick away from him and onto the table. The ex-knight fell down in a slump as the table broke under his weight.
“I warned thee…” The clop clop of hooves started to quicken as Gilean left the candlelight.
“GILEAN!” Godrick shouted weakly, but it wasn’t enough. The last words he heard before the centaur broke into a full out gallop told him he was too late.
“…pull my leg, and I kick.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Appearance (and some personality quirks)
Gileard of the Wendel Centaurs stands 5’2” tall, and weighs roughly 800 lbs. His physical appearance is accented by the bony plates on his rib cage and joints, identifying him as a member of his breed. Like most Wendel Centaurs, he is rather proud of them, but unlike most, uses their more practical side of being personal armor more often than others of his naturally scholarly oriented kind.
His face is rather average. Brown eyes, normal sized nose, good teeth. The only distinguishing feature upon his head, besides the Scout’s Headband, is his large braid of black hair, which reaches down to about the middle of his human back on the outside of his dusty old cloak.
At his waist, to the right, hangs his father’s battleaxe, dangerously sharp when Gileard chooses to use it. On the left, slightly uncomfortable there, but suitable for travel is Gileard’s large steel shield, the three spikes protruding outward threateningly.
Covering Gileard’s flanks and horse back is a specialty made mithral chain armor piece. It stretches to cover most of Gileard’s brown body, and the only thing on top of it is a pair of saddlebags that hang on either side, balancing the weight difference between axe and shield. Protruding from these bags are map cases, and easily seen inside one pouch, on top of an old winter blanket, are several potion bottles, packed in such a way that they are easily removed, but hard to otherwise jostle or break.
Inside the map cases are Gileard’s one personal pleasure, as he travels around Krynn and draws his own map… he’s not particularly good at it, but he enjoys it. He just finished his first rough draft of Ansalon when he received a message from Thomas dun Godrick. Any new map he can get his hands on excites him, and he’ll immediately try to make a copy. Errors and mistakes in his own maps make him curse, but he dutifully alters them to the best of his ability.
His cloak is held together by a silver book, the symbol of his namesake, the god of knowledge, Gilean. Gileard’s mother was a priestess of Gilean, and Gileard’s father, her protector and warrior husband. The family traveled together until Gileard was old enough to be on his own, at which point he couldn’t take the constant lessons about the history of Ansalon anymore. Gileard enjoyed fighting more than books, much to his mother’s displeasure, and his father’s mild happiness.
Before leaving, Gileard received his father’s axe and his mother’s love, and was told that if they ever needed them, to find them and they’d come. He was encouraged to keep learning, and to find as many teachers as he could. Gileard kept this advice in his heart, but let it stay there. He found only a few people that he enjoyed traveling with, and could name them all as well as tell you where they are likely to be found at the moment.
After traveling for several decades, Gileard discovered his love for maps and their creation. His friend, Sir Godrick, was the first to buy him Cartographer’s tools, and Gileard became frustrated when his maps didn’t match the beauty and quality of a practiced Cartographer. However, he made it his goal to see as much of Ansalon as possible, and map it all out if he could. He spent the next decade and a half traveling the world of Krynn, and has a roughly hand drawn map of his own design which he’s only mildly frustrated at.
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Post by Dave on Jul 27, 2007 19:48:19 GMT -5
Looks pretty well done, baka, but did you check if Heroic Surge is okay for your regional? It doesn't seem very background-y, more like something that comes with practice. Of course, Nick's the judge on that - just thought I'd point it out.
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Post by phulishone on Jul 27, 2007 22:09:11 GMT -5
Hey, if that's the worst you've found with it, then I'm pleased. Actually, I'll concede that Heroic Surge just happed to be a feat I saw in the Ansalon books (I don't know if that's the first spot it's been in), and it fits my character incredibly well.
I've talked with Nick about Regional Feats, and he's said that he'll get back to me. As of right now, Heroic Surge is my... desired feat, but I accept that it is quite possibly only a place holder.
Again, however, if that's all you see wrong with it (from what I've shown you), I'm quite pleased, Dave-sensei. And I'm really excited to play Gileard... even if his attacks make him seem to be something of a... dare I say it... one trick pony.
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Post by Cadic's Devoted on Jul 28, 2007 21:06:57 GMT -5
Hmm.. I'll let him have it. I can see it being a background thing if, say, it was a trick of his father's and he taught it to him. that kind of thing -shrugs-.
Anyway, Approved. I like the background.
~Nick
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