Dragonic Chronicles of the 13th Age
Winning a wager with King Arran was only the beginning...
|Level, Race, Class||Level 1 Human Ranger|
|One Unique Thing||Won a Bet with King Arran Blackshield|
|Initiative Bonus||5 points|
|Ability||Ability Score||Ability Modifier|
|Background Title||Background Bonus|
|Old Town Rhapsody||5|
|Queen’s Wood Symphony||5|
|King Arran Blackshield||Conflicted||1|
|Lady Milari Ith’quin||Positive||1|
|The One-Eyed Thief||Conflicted||1|
|Bolter Axe||Bolter Axe|
|+5 vs AC 1d10 +1 (1)||+5 vs AC 1d8 +4 (1)|
|Talent Name||Talent Description|
|Lethal Hunter||Your critical range will increase by 2 on one chosen target for the entirety of the battle|
|First Strike||Raise your critical range by 2 points on the first time you attack each target during battle|
|Tracker||You gain a free background worth 5 points that must involve Tracking and also gain the TERRAIN STUNT power|
Racial and Class Powers
|Power Name||Power Description|
|Quick to Fight||Roll for Initiative twice and choose the better result|
|Terrain Stunt||You may perform a wilderness stunt as a free action on the same escalation round as your D6 roll|
|The Wilderness Stunt allows for successful execution of maneuvers within the terrains constrictions without the need to roll for it|
|Feat Name||Feat Description|
|Lethal Hunter||Raise the critical range value by 1 more point|
|First Strike||Raise the critical range value by 1 more point|
|PD||13||Recoveries per day||3|
One Unique Thing
I was minding my own business in the twelves-woods, hunting game for a family of seven to help them survive as they care for the injured man of the house. This was when I chanced upon a band of dwarves huddled in their makeshift camp. I could actually smell them before I could even see them. The scent of old earth and burnt metal clash too much with the rest of the woods. Seeing as I was relatively near, I figure it wouldn’t hurt to pay them a visit and introduce myself. Such a boisterous bunch, they were, as all nine of them greeted me in turn. The last one to introduce himself apparently was their leader, so it was to him that I told about my hunt and my word of caution. I was a little surprised at their generally cheerful reaction, although it felt as if I was being treated as a child that didn’t know any better. Their leader, in particular, was definitely eying my crossbow at that time, he even inquired how I fared hunting with such inferior craftsmanship. I would have normally been offended at that, being the one responsible for the “inferior craft”, especially since my work is under scrutiny by beings who are stereotypically known for their exquisite weapon crafts that rival that of the elves. But the look in his eyes didn’t show any disgust. Rather, they were one of genuine concern. I assured him that I can hunt just fine with it and I’d be able to perform repairs on it when needed. That earned another rousing laughter from the rest of his men. I bid them a great day and went on my way as a family depended on my hunt today. It took quite a while before I could get some good distance from their noise and banter, and even overheard them all making a wager on the success of my hunt. I meant no ill will, but I had no intentions of making any extra effort to return to their encampment just to confirm my kill. Especially when the pressing matter is not of my own. I found my game before the sun was even halfway between the mountains so I took the extra time to cut the stag into manageable pieces that I could travel with ease. I also took care in the skinning, since I’m sure it would get a fair price in open market… Certainly that family needed all the help they could get to augment their income.
Weeks passed, and I never really thought back to that wager they did. I was busy dismantling traps and snares that poachers had left behind. It’s no secret that I have no love for these types of hunters who put their greed before everyone else’s needs. These were camouflaged quite well and it would have definitely snagged anyone or anything unawares
- that was the real danger. The only real problem I encountered was the poachers returning to their snares and catching me in the act of disabling them. Never had I fought so hard for my life than that moment. With the odds of four against one, it was a long gone conclusion that I was in losing battle, even when I used up all the tricks of the woods. Had the dwarves not step in to save my sorry hide at the time… Well. They made quick work on the poachers, subduing them fast, but not before one of the poachers landed an axe to my back. Fortunately, my crossbow was in the way, so I survived that… the crossbow didn’t. The dwarves escorted me as far as the main route to Hammerfast. And before we parted ways, their leader shoved a heavy crossbow in my hands. He told me that it was the my share of the wager they had the first time we met, not to mention a suitable replacement to the one that I had lost in the scuffle. Apparently, every single one of his companions bet that my crossbow would break before I could finish my hunt then… and that only he was the one who wagered to my success. How they knew of the outcome, I’ll never know. My eyes were fixated on the fine weapon. He called it a Bolt Axe. It was made of a material I am not familiar with to this day, it is beautiful. What’s more, the leader taught me how to manipulate a mechanism along the stock. To my surprise, the heavy crossbow folded out and changed into a battle axe. I do not pretend to know how it works, but it does. I was humbled and awestruck, thanking them all for what they have done. I have not crossed paths with them ever since. I hope they are faring well, wherever they are.
Old Town Rhapsody
I’ve been in the hunting business for as long as I can remember. It is honest work, a necessity for the survival of the town, and it gives me something to do in this boring and mundane life of mine. I was born in a peaceful time, where the last major war was over and forgotten with. The most action I’ve ever been are from bar brawls, altercations with poachers, and the occasional dire beast finding their way into town. I lost my folks early from the plague so I had to depend on myself to survive. The local church is well and good, but I don’t sit well with senseless obedience and unquestioning devotion. I was fortunate to have apprenticed to our local woodsman and tanner and picked up a lot of skills in the trade. I’m a decent tanner, a remarkable pathfinder, a horrible cook, but a very competent hunter. I’m more comfortable with crossbows, and that I’m able to predict my bolts destination better than I could with any arrow. I found myself more at home with the woodland creatures than the folks in town. People call me naive and idealistic as I try to deal with the natural order of things, as opposed to how the Industrialized society do them. As such, this has put me at odds with other hunters and woodsmen who welcome large-scale operations. I feel that it’s up to me to make the people aware of the irrecoverable destruction that this will bring to the very surroundings that have provided us with food and shelter all these years.
Unfortunately, being the constant unpopular voice in Town, this has led me to being cast out. I never liked politics much, so I didn’t see this coming. I just hope it won’t be too late for them to come to their senses. Since then, I’ve relocated my trade from Old Town to Hammerfast. The competition there are fierce, but I do what I must to live, to survive. I’ve come to be dependable in various woodland excursions that locals and visitors hire me out to do. But, my wish to break out from the mundane still lingers. There must be more than this provincial life.
Queen’s Wood Symphony
Sometimes, doing the right thing hurts, as was the case for me. In context, some Axis bigwigs spread the word that they needed pioneers to help found for a new settlement in the north, near the migration route of the behemoths. A lot of people who were down on their luck wanted in on it. I joined them so I can try to steer them clear from the myriad of bad and horrible ideas they would pop in their heads. Unfortunately, there are those who wanted to take advantage of this and manipulate the ignorant masses to push their own selfish agendas. I could see their schemes for what they were and thwarted their efforts at every turn. It took a turn for the worse when I fell into their trap… literally. They laid out some snares and traps and spread rumors of poachers in the area. Like a fool, I stepped in to disarm the devices. I was beaten down to an inch of my life and was left for dead deep in the Queen’s Woods. I even lost possession of the Bolter Axe! I had already resigned myself to the fate I was headed for and closed my eyes, expecting it to be the last time. I was proven wrong. I woke up staring at ornate decor and furnishings that would look naturally built into the woodwork. I was introduced to my rescuers. A small community of High Elves and Wood Elves built on and around a great auburn tree. One of them observed my near demise through a looking glass and had asked a few hunters to retrieve me and disarm any traps that I might have missed. I was tolerated, allowed to live among them until I was fully recovered to venture out of the woods. But I didn’t want to be idle or just rely on their good graces, so I went and did my best to learn their way of life in hopes of contributing to some daily activity.
Two days in and it was then that I believe that I bit off more than I can chew. These people live in a different time frame that I do, and a short moment with them can last for most of the day. Weeks passed and I was able to regain the use of my right arm and leg again, it would have been faster if they used their magic on me. But I have learned since that I did not have that privilege on account of being an outsider. It didn’t stop me from getting in their faces, though. I decided to be useful and tried my hardest in participating in their hunting parties. More often than not, I kept losing them in the woods whenever I tailed them. I believe this to be a deliberate effort to shake me off, but I kept at it. Each time I try to join, each time they lose me in the woods. I was impressed and daunted at the same time. I would try again the next day, learning from mistakes and adjusting to any changes. It wasn’t until the second month, when the rest of my bones had mended, that I was able to keep up with them until they reached their hunting grounds. They begrudgingly conceded and allowed me to formally join them as one of their initiates. They treated me like a child that didn’t know any better at first, and I didn’t take any offense at it. I was learning their language, their culture, and ultimately… I was learning the ways of their woodland rangers. I spent a good year with them and became quite a competent part of their community. I saw and noticed things that I used to take for granted. I’m now able to learn to distinguish traces and tracks from different creatures and individuals, albeit it takes me longer than how they do it. I had slowly begun to learn how to hide my presence in the woods to better evade being hunted or detected. I could read through the surrounding woods and move the way I need to get to my destination unimpeded. I had earned the name Draugolë, which translates to The Learned Cub in common tongue. It’s funny that they still treat me like a child, but I know for certain that I’ve finally been accepted. I was finally welcomed to stay with them, to be one of them. That all changed when the Dead Wood incident happened.
Over a year and a half of being disconnected from human civilization and I’m already feeling the estrangement. I had to make best speed to the new settlement that Axis wanted built, Dead Wood, when I heard the news of their recent scuffle with the Silver Elves. Who they fought with was not my concern, it’s why the atrocities happened that turned my blood cold. Those Axis bastards went and turned part of the Queen’s Woods into a barren wasteland, and they even raided settlers on a resting behemoth. For what? For resources that can be amassed over a period of time! These greedy bastards governing the settlement has its own army, and they’re not afraid of starting a war. Just what is the empire doing?! Does it even know what takes place in this region?! I had to find out who or what made this happen, and find a way to stop this. A few of the wood elves who knew of my intentions joined me in my journey and even kept me up to speed about what they’ve learned from outside the woods. It’s pretty embarrassing, to be honest, but I had more pressing matters. It wasn’t until the fifth day that we reached the edges of the wasted woods, but from where we stood we could clearly tell where the Dead Wood settlement was. What was supposed to be a new settlement has grown into a fortress of steel and smoke. I can see people, beasts and wagons flowing in and out of its heavily guarded walls. It took us another day of observation, but it seems the only way my pointy-eared friends were ever going to see inside the fortress was either in chains or in commerce. So we had to work on a few hunted games and pretend to travel for trade. We got in pretty easily from there and I actually made quite a few good business contacts in the process. Moving our separate ways once we got our solid footing inside Dead Wood, I decided to finally find out who the movers and shakers were. Much to my surprise, it’s the same poachers that did me in over a year ago that are running the show. It really made my blood boil to find one of them holding on to my Bolt Axe… which is probably a good thing, since it gave me an even better reason to build my own connections inside this damned town. I can’t believe the monsters didn’t even recognize my face, even when I actively opposed them long ago. And this is how I got in touch with the White Fang.
I joined up with White Fang, a few people who socially engineered themselves into key positions of the fort’s business and operations. Our compliment was made out of different races with all the same objective and goals. One of these days, I’d love to meet whoever unified us and put our individual skills to good use. All it took was one of their so-called festivals to make it all happen. When that day came, all the present big wigs of Dead Wood were conveniently gathered in one place. All the wine they were drinking had been spiked with rust-root dust, a compound designed to kill slowly and silently from inside them. They remained alive for days after we sabotaged their facilities, enough days to travel back to where they came from and spread the word about the fate of their precious greedy little town of Dead Wood… and just enough before they died in agony as their muscles and bones started to corrode like bad steel. Without the primary backers to restore the order, everyone else abandoned the fort and I was among the last who stayed behind to make sure nothing left was remotely useful to anyone except for carrion birds. My wood elf companions, feeling fulfilled, returned to their homes. I got my Bolt Axe back and demonstrated first-hand what and how the Axe part of the name got there. It was all in all a bitter and satisfying experience. I kept in touch with my business contacts who were willing to work with meager transactions, those that don’t pull such greedy numbers. I decided to stay with the White Fang as a remote operative and hitch a ride towards the general area of Axis. We have still yet to know who pulled enough strings in the empire to allow Dead Wood to come to be… We have no way yet to find out who stood to benefit from all the needless resource drain. And the way I figured, I owe it to the people in the woods to deal with this before I return to them. One thing’s for certain… I got what I asked for, and it’s definitely more than my provincial life.