Player: Kiromir1 Proxy: None Chosen
Race: Human
Class: Fighter
Alignment: Lawful Good
Level: 1
Ability Scores:
14/08 STR (Dmg. +2, Feat of Str. +5)
15/82 INT (Att. +2)
9/0 WIS (Init. +3, Def. -1)
10/47 DEX (Init. +2, Att. 0, Def. 0)
12/75 CON
8/02 LKS
15/09 CHA (Turning Mod. +4)
Quirks & Flaws:
Superstitious: Black is bad luck
Allergies: Pollen

Hit Points: 32 (Wounds: 0)
Threshold of Pain: 10

Honor: 16 (average)
EP: 0 (next level: 400) BP: 3
Handedness: Right Sex: Male
Age: 30 years
Birthday: TBD
Height: 6’
Weight: 156 lbs
Patron God(s): Brovadol (Knight of Gods)
(Anointed follower? N/A)
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Language (Brandobian)N: 79%, Language (Merchant’s Tongue): 30%, Appraisal (Arms/Armor): 21%, Riding (Horse): 24%
N = Native Language
Weapons: Longsword.
Armor: All.
Other: Laborer.
Racial Abilities:
Pros: Size Md. for HP, Merchant’s Tongue for 50% off.
Cons: none.
Preferential talent access: none.
Combat Profile: Longsword
Attack: +3
Speed: -1
Initiative: +6
Defense: +1
Damage: +3

Weapon Speed: 10

Damage: 2d8p

Reach: 3.5’
Combat Profile:
Attack: 0
Speed: 0
Initiative: 0
Defense: 0
Damage: 0

Weapon Speed: 0

Damage: 0

Reach: 0’


I’m a Brandobian as much as anyone else, but growing up I found not everyone shared that view. At about six feet I’ve grown to be a little taller than most – at least in my homeland, and it made me stick out in my youth. Blue eyes aren’t overly common and the dark tone of my skin sometimes drew criticism. I shouldn’t feel uncomfortable around the color black (I know it’s just a color) but I do. My mother says it’s just a carryover from childhood teasing, but I’ll probably never be rid of it.


The mercenary life isn’t what I thought it would be. If you can find work (and stay alive) you might be able to make some coin, but there’s no reward beyond that. I left Brandobia to find some purpose beyond just surviving. I thought a sellsword’s life would provide that, but it didn’t, just more opportunites to risk your life for nothing more than a few shiny pieces of metal. I’m not afraid of death, just death without meaning. Pointless death is a waste of life. I’m going home now to see my family and do some thinking. I also plan to visit a close friend who became a priest in the Halls of the Valiant shortly before I left. I know virtually nothing about religion, and the priesthood wouldn’t be for me, but he at least has found his purpose. And it seems a noble one. Perhaps he’ll have some advice for me.


Catastrophic Fumble Kiromir1