Beyond Fort Fallcrest
Strength: 13 +1
Dexterity: 16 +2
Constitution: 15 + 1
Intelligence: 9 +0
Wisdom: 14 +1
Charisma: 8 -1
Special: Blinks out of existence every few minutes.
Damage die: d10
Neutral – defeat a worthy opponent.
Hard Eyes, Shorn Hair, Scarred Skin, Lithe Body
Signature Weapon: Quicksilver (dueling rapier)
Sword, Close, Sharp, Perfectly Weighted, Weathered
Bend Bars, Lift Gates:
When you use pure strength to destroy an inanimate obstacle, roll+Str. ✴On a 10+, choose 3. ✴On a 7-9 choose 2.
• It doesn’t take a very long time
• Nothing of value is damaged
• It doesn’t make an inordinate amount of noise
• You can fix the thing again without a lot of effort
You ignore the clumsy tag on armor you wear.
When you deal damage, deal +1d4 damage.
When you reach out to Draumur Somniatis while falling asleep Roll+Wis.
On a 10+ your dreams take you to Draumur Somniatis where you intended to be. Hold 3.
On a 7-9 your dreams take you to Draumur Somniatis, Hold 1.
Spend your hold 1 for 1 to:
- Wake up intentionally
- Travel instantly to another location in Draumur Somniatis
- Manipulate an object in Draumur Somniatis (it remains as it was in the Material Plane)
Dungeon Rations )5)
Healing Potion (1)
Temple owes me his life, whether he admits it or not.
Temple might just be the closest thing I have to family.
I worry about the ability of Rifka to survive in the
I have sworn to protect Kessig.
Coleman is soft, but I will make them hard like me.
Coleman is the worst kind of loose cannon and he’s going to get us all killed.
Merrit particularly dislikes me and I don’t know why.
The men I trained in the army would tell you many things about me. Difficult, demanding, sharp-tongued, short-tempered. Hell, my superiors would tell you that as well. During the war, they kept me on because as difficult as I am, I’m the reason those men are alive to point out my faults of character. Peacetime didn’t suit me. How long do you think you’d last if you were constantly being disrespected by bored second sons of petty noble houses, so certain that they’d never see a battlefield that they saw no need to learn the finer points of combat? I should be made a saint for lasting two years.
The lieutenant told me he was resigning his commission and heading for South Riding. He told me he couldn’t think of any friend he’d rather have by his side, and in the next breath pointed out that I was going to get dishonorably discharged the way things were going. You might have noticed he’s very convincing. I left the shields and pikes for the army and took up my father’s sword – the sword I learned to fight with, and the sword I’m going to use to fight the horrors of the South. There’s treasure there, I’m sure, but I’m here for the challenge. I’m going to prove that I’m the best swordsman the world has ever known, and I’m going to test my skill against whatever lies beyond Fort Fallcrest.
“Sharper with the sword than with the wit, I’m told…”
“Martin Silver is, unquestionably, the bitterest, bloodiest, most hard-headed, most foul-mouthed, stubbornest son of a bitch I have ever met on this Earth. He is my dearest and oldest friend, who has stood by me in countless battles. We’ve saved each others’ lives more times than I can count. Did I mention how foul-mouthed he was?” —Temple van Bommel, Paladin of St. Gryllid