Character Name: Lothair
Character Race: Human
Character Class: Wizard
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Deity: Boccob
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Height: 511
Weight: 165lb
Eyes: Green
Hair: Brown
Skin: Tan
Character Region: Domain of Greyhawk
Level: 1
Experience points: 0
Experience points needed for next level: 1000
Strength: 10
Dexterity: 16
Constitution: 14
Intelligence: 18
Wisdom: 14
Charisma: 8
AC: 13
Armor Type: None
Speed: 30 ft
HP: 9
Initiative Modifier: +3
Base Attack Bonus: +0
Melee BAB: -1
Ranged BAB: +3
Saving Throws:
Fortitude: +2
Reflex: +3
Will: +4
Skills:
Concentration: 2 + 4 + 0 = +6
Knowledge (Arcana): 4 + 4 + 0 = +8
Listen: 2 + 2 + 0 = +4
Search: 4 + 2 + 0 = +6
Spellcraft: 4 + 4 + 0 = +8
Spot: 2 + 2 + 0 = +4
Languages:
Common
Draconic
Elven
Gnomish
Goblin
Feats:
Wizard Proficiencies
Scribe Scroll
Spell Focus (Illusion)
Toughness
Gear and items:
(1) Backpack [2 lb]
(1) Waterskin [4 lb]
(5) Trail Ration [5 lb]
(1) Bedroll [5 lb]
(1) Flint and Steel [*]
(5) Sunrod [5 lb]
(3) Parchment [*]
(1) Ink [*] 1 oz. vial
(1) Inkpen [*]
(1) Spell Component Pouch [2 lb]
(2) Spellbook [6 lb]
(2) Bolt Case [2 lb] 10 Bolts Each
(3) Vials [*]
(3) Flasks [*]
Total Gear Weight Carried: 31 lb
Weapons: (qty) Weapon [weight] - Comment
(1) Light Crossbow [4 lb]
(2) Dagger [2 lb]
(1) Quarterstaff [4 lb]
Total Weapon Weight Carried: 10 lb
Total Armor Weight Carried: 0 lb
Total weight carried: 41 lb
Magic items:
Treasures:
Racial Abilities:
Extra Feat, +4 Skill Points 1st Level, +1 Skill Every Level After 1st
Familiar: None
Pp:
Ep:
Gp: 160
Sp: 6
Cp: 1
Jewelry:
Gems:
Art:
Other:
Spells per day: 3/2
Daily spell list:
Cantrips: Prestidigitation, Dancing Lights, Ghost Sound
1st Level: Sleep, Color Spray
Spell book:
Cantrips: All
1st Level: Sleep, Color Spray, Grease, Mage Armor, Silent Image, Identify, Endure Elements
Notes:
Lothair has a long scar that starts on his forehead, travels down in between his eyes and curves off under his right eye, stopping in the middle of his cheekbone. Also his hands are almost always gloved, covered the burns on his palms.
History:
Though he spent the majority of his life in the peaceful land surrounding Greyhawk City, Lothair is actually a native of the Bright Desert. A member in one of human tribes that roam the sandy dunes. He spent his most early years, from his birth to five years of age in that most harsh environment, perhaps it is what molded the survivor instinct that drives him to this vary day. Strangely to those of his most intimate family, his mother and father that sired him and his older brothers, Lothair was a slight child never really as tough or large as any of the other children. Though even as he begun his training in the art of battle, which he did not excel at to the disappointment of his father, the nagging feeling the back of his mind was present, telling him that he was meant from something greater. Though he did learn the most superfluous basics of combat, his training would never be finished.
As his father brought him back to the village in the wee hours of dusk, the cries and screams of women and children rang out, and the fires could be seen burning in the distance. The distinct clang of metal could be heard as the barbarian tribe fought with a band of raiders. Rushing forward his father bade to his son to draw his weapon as he himself did and they rushed to their common domicile. There his mother was collecting the younger children while two raiders battled with Lothairs older brothers, but cut them down even before his father could join the fray, though he still did, calling to Lothair to enter as well, and to die a warriors death in glorious battle. In that moment, Lothair new he was never meant to be a fighter, at least not in the most common sense of the word. He had no lust for the glories of battle as his brothers and father did, he only cared to survive. Turning in a flash of speed uncharacteristic of the child, Lothair ran as fast as he could, his sword finally hitting the ground after he had put more than ten feet between himself and the weapon. Even as his mother and younger siblings were surrounded and about to be consumed he would not stop running, Lothair slipped away into the desert.
For six days thereafter the boy wandered, his stomach aching from lack of food and water. After some time though a strange figure came before the boy who, by this time was sprawled out on the sand waiting for death to come. The old man wore simple robes, a wide brimmed hat, a mighty white beard, and most comforting of all, a large smile. He questioned the boy on what he was doing, and finally had to get down off his horse and decided he would break camp and have lunch with the child. After Lothair recited his tail, making himself sound somewhat braver in the process, the old man took much interest indeed. Finally after the meal was finished the ancient human mounted his horse once again, looking to be off, but the pouting eyes of the child finally changed his mind. He offered the boy a choice; he could go with him and learn the ways of the arcane, or stay to die in the desert, either way would be tough and harsh. Always the survivor, Lothair agreed to come, and to the old mans surprise, the child was not frightened when he summoned a suitable mount for him.
The travel across the great mountain ranges of the Abbor-Alz and into the Domain of Greyhawk, Lothair and Gydeon, or Master Gydeon as he told the boy to address him from now on, spoke much of his past, and though the child had told the ancient man his name, Gydeon decided that it was much too feral for a proper student in the arcane to be called, so he renamed the boy a proper apprentice name, Lothair, as he would be known from then on. The two traveled some distance before arriving at a small tower, with a stable and small patch of farmland. That would be the home of the child for the next fifteen years.
In that time, Lothair had come to hate and respect Gydeon to an absurd point. The wizard had made him do things that would make normal children go insane, such as spending an entire year without speaking, and the like. Also for the longest time the wizard simply had him doing nothing but menial things, running errands to nearby farms, fixing the stable doors, tilling the fields, all of which Lothair believed was not the work of a proper master of the arcanewhich was probably exactly why the old man had him doing it in the first place, was the youths opinion. Though as the years went by, and stricter training came, the greater the rewards his powers were enhanced greatly by the magical prowess that he learned from the books. Even when the two attended the bazaars in the city of Greyhawk, not too far from the tower, Gydeon kept Lothair under tight watch.
Finally, a few days before his sixteenth year of service to the old man was to begin, Lothair was visited in a dream by well, himself, or so it appeared. He spoke at great lengths of the power the youth could have if he only had access to the great books and scrolls locked away in the study of his teacher, though he knew that Gydeon would forbid it. Then an insidious plot came to the mind of the lad, and instincts that had driven him when he was so young, so many years ago, came back to him now. He moved silently through the tower down to the stable and to the piles of freshly cut wood waiting for the winter to roll around. Then in great strides the lad crept up into the top floor, where his master slept. The ancient wizard who had faced dragons and fiends of all sorts in his youth was prepared against any enemy, against any enemy except his most trusted student. The ancient mage didnt survive the first blow, and as Lothair turned from bed he didnt even take the time to wipe the sprinkling of blood from his cheekor pull the axe from the bed.
With glorious victory at hand, he reached for the bound volume that was his masters spellbook, the youth relishing every moment of his victory, but it was for not. Even as he lifted the ancient tomb it set aflame, burning his hands though Lothair wouldnt let go, he tried frantically to open it and learn what secrets he may before it was too late, but it turned to ash before he ever had a chance. Then the room about him lit into flame, grabbing for the pigeonholed wall of scrolls, he grabbed at as many as he could, each catching ablaze and burning his hands. Finally, as the fire grew around him, he leaped from the room and bounded down the stairs to find that the entirety of the tower was on fire, Gydeons trap to seal the fate of his death dealer. Lothair had a choice at that moment to flee from the building through the open front door, which was visible to him or turn back and grab his own spellbook, which could easily cost him his life, but what would his life be without any of the power he spent so long to acquire? Even the survival instinct that had grown into him couldnt override this new sense he had about himself, he yearned for power and knew without even his meager spellbook he would never reach it.
Flying into his room, fiery beams crashing all about him, he grabbed his tome and pouch. Turning then, his hands still burning as he held fast to his most precious items, but luck didnt seem to be with him, or perhaps it was the spirit of his fallen master coming to seek his revenge. Broken free by the fire a beam fell, falling and slamming directly into the youths face, catching him right between the eyes. Lothair didnt stay on his feet long, a new soggy warmth, not at all like that blazing heat of the fire around him, covered his face and dripped onto his tunic. The room spinning, and from the combination of heat exhaustion, smoke inhalation, and the great wooden beam to the head, Lothair fell as the fire consumed everything around him. Even as the thick warm liquid covered his vision, and everything slowly turned black he remembered to hold fast to those most precious items to him, the book and pouch.
The fires raged the night consuming the tower and finally died out just before dawn. Lothair woke up some hundred feet from the tower and he glanced around, wiping the dried flakes from his eyes, though he could feel that his face was still covered mostly. He glanced around in complete shock to find that he was indeed still alive, his hands still grasping the items, though the burns were now raw and he couldnt feel it at all though, which was probably for the better. His head did hurt though and as he crawled over to the well, not really concerned about his apparent salvation at unknown hands, he pulled up the pale to find the water from the well black and thick as tar, it would seem Gydeons curse had spoiled the land to every degree. Lothair found the horses lame and of no use now, so he was forced to walk some five miles to the neighboring farm, and the trek was oddly familiar to him, as he remembered his flight from the village and into the dunes of the Bright Desert. How history did enjoy to repeat itself.
The kindly couple took him in as he expected and tended to his wounds, completely shocked that their mighty wizard neighbor had fallen to a simple fire, but Lothair spun a tale so brilliant that no one argued, but he knew that diviners from Greyhawk associates of his master were probably already on their way, seeing what happened and seeking him out. So only after a few hours to rest and have his wounds treated, the youth, now a man was off, after convincing the couple to let him borrow a horse. He fled, and didnt stop until he had left the Domain of Greyhawk completely. To the distant lands he traveled, and has done so for the remaining six years of his life, taking up odd jobs and living from small town to small town slowly gathering himself. To seek out new powers so that he might one day return to Greyhawk, a mere student no longer.
Character Race: Human
Character Class: Wizard
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Deity: Boccob
Size: Medium
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Height: 511
Weight: 165lb
Eyes: Green
Hair: Brown
Skin: Tan
Character Region: Domain of Greyhawk
Level: 1
Experience points: 0
Experience points needed for next level: 1000
Strength: 10
Dexterity: 16
Constitution: 14
Intelligence: 18
Wisdom: 14
Charisma: 8
AC: 13
Armor Type: None
Speed: 30 ft
HP: 9
Initiative Modifier: +3
Base Attack Bonus: +0
Melee BAB: -1
Ranged BAB: +3
Saving Throws:
Fortitude: +2
Reflex: +3
Will: +4
Skills:
Concentration: 2 + 4 + 0 = +6
Knowledge (Arcana): 4 + 4 + 0 = +8
Listen: 2 + 2 + 0 = +4
Search: 4 + 2 + 0 = +6
Spellcraft: 4 + 4 + 0 = +8
Spot: 2 + 2 + 0 = +4
Languages:
Common
Draconic
Elven
Gnomish
Goblin
Feats:
Wizard Proficiencies
Scribe Scroll
Spell Focus (Illusion)
Toughness
Gear and items:
(1) Backpack [2 lb]
(1) Waterskin [4 lb]
(5) Trail Ration [5 lb]
(1) Bedroll [5 lb]
(1) Flint and Steel [*]
(5) Sunrod [5 lb]
(3) Parchment [*]
(1) Ink [*] 1 oz. vial
(1) Inkpen [*]
(1) Spell Component Pouch [2 lb]
(2) Spellbook [6 lb]
(2) Bolt Case [2 lb] 10 Bolts Each
(3) Vials [*]
(3) Flasks [*]
Total Gear Weight Carried: 31 lb
Weapons: (qty) Weapon [weight] - Comment
(1) Light Crossbow [4 lb]
(2) Dagger [2 lb]
(1) Quarterstaff [4 lb]
Total Weapon Weight Carried: 10 lb
Total Armor Weight Carried: 0 lb
Total weight carried: 41 lb
Magic items:
Treasures:
Racial Abilities:
Extra Feat, +4 Skill Points 1st Level, +1 Skill Every Level After 1st
Familiar: None
Pp:
Ep:
Gp: 160
Sp: 6
Cp: 1
Jewelry:
Gems:
Art:
Other:
Spells per day: 3/2
Daily spell list:
Cantrips: Prestidigitation, Dancing Lights, Ghost Sound
1st Level: Sleep, Color Spray
Spell book:
Cantrips: All
1st Level: Sleep, Color Spray, Grease, Mage Armor, Silent Image, Identify, Endure Elements
Notes:
Lothair has a long scar that starts on his forehead, travels down in between his eyes and curves off under his right eye, stopping in the middle of his cheekbone. Also his hands are almost always gloved, covered the burns on his palms.
History:
Though he spent the majority of his life in the peaceful land surrounding Greyhawk City, Lothair is actually a native of the Bright Desert. A member in one of human tribes that roam the sandy dunes. He spent his most early years, from his birth to five years of age in that most harsh environment, perhaps it is what molded the survivor instinct that drives him to this vary day. Strangely to those of his most intimate family, his mother and father that sired him and his older brothers, Lothair was a slight child never really as tough or large as any of the other children. Though even as he begun his training in the art of battle, which he did not excel at to the disappointment of his father, the nagging feeling the back of his mind was present, telling him that he was meant from something greater. Though he did learn the most superfluous basics of combat, his training would never be finished.
As his father brought him back to the village in the wee hours of dusk, the cries and screams of women and children rang out, and the fires could be seen burning in the distance. The distinct clang of metal could be heard as the barbarian tribe fought with a band of raiders. Rushing forward his father bade to his son to draw his weapon as he himself did and they rushed to their common domicile. There his mother was collecting the younger children while two raiders battled with Lothairs older brothers, but cut them down even before his father could join the fray, though he still did, calling to Lothair to enter as well, and to die a warriors death in glorious battle. In that moment, Lothair new he was never meant to be a fighter, at least not in the most common sense of the word. He had no lust for the glories of battle as his brothers and father did, he only cared to survive. Turning in a flash of speed uncharacteristic of the child, Lothair ran as fast as he could, his sword finally hitting the ground after he had put more than ten feet between himself and the weapon. Even as his mother and younger siblings were surrounded and about to be consumed he would not stop running, Lothair slipped away into the desert.
For six days thereafter the boy wandered, his stomach aching from lack of food and water. After some time though a strange figure came before the boy who, by this time was sprawled out on the sand waiting for death to come. The old man wore simple robes, a wide brimmed hat, a mighty white beard, and most comforting of all, a large smile. He questioned the boy on what he was doing, and finally had to get down off his horse and decided he would break camp and have lunch with the child. After Lothair recited his tail, making himself sound somewhat braver in the process, the old man took much interest indeed. Finally after the meal was finished the ancient human mounted his horse once again, looking to be off, but the pouting eyes of the child finally changed his mind. He offered the boy a choice; he could go with him and learn the ways of the arcane, or stay to die in the desert, either way would be tough and harsh. Always the survivor, Lothair agreed to come, and to the old mans surprise, the child was not frightened when he summoned a suitable mount for him.
The travel across the great mountain ranges of the Abbor-Alz and into the Domain of Greyhawk, Lothair and Gydeon, or Master Gydeon as he told the boy to address him from now on, spoke much of his past, and though the child had told the ancient man his name, Gydeon decided that it was much too feral for a proper student in the arcane to be called, so he renamed the boy a proper apprentice name, Lothair, as he would be known from then on. The two traveled some distance before arriving at a small tower, with a stable and small patch of farmland. That would be the home of the child for the next fifteen years.
In that time, Lothair had come to hate and respect Gydeon to an absurd point. The wizard had made him do things that would make normal children go insane, such as spending an entire year without speaking, and the like. Also for the longest time the wizard simply had him doing nothing but menial things, running errands to nearby farms, fixing the stable doors, tilling the fields, all of which Lothair believed was not the work of a proper master of the arcanewhich was probably exactly why the old man had him doing it in the first place, was the youths opinion. Though as the years went by, and stricter training came, the greater the rewards his powers were enhanced greatly by the magical prowess that he learned from the books. Even when the two attended the bazaars in the city of Greyhawk, not too far from the tower, Gydeon kept Lothair under tight watch.
Finally, a few days before his sixteenth year of service to the old man was to begin, Lothair was visited in a dream by well, himself, or so it appeared. He spoke at great lengths of the power the youth could have if he only had access to the great books and scrolls locked away in the study of his teacher, though he knew that Gydeon would forbid it. Then an insidious plot came to the mind of the lad, and instincts that had driven him when he was so young, so many years ago, came back to him now. He moved silently through the tower down to the stable and to the piles of freshly cut wood waiting for the winter to roll around. Then in great strides the lad crept up into the top floor, where his master slept. The ancient wizard who had faced dragons and fiends of all sorts in his youth was prepared against any enemy, against any enemy except his most trusted student. The ancient mage didnt survive the first blow, and as Lothair turned from bed he didnt even take the time to wipe the sprinkling of blood from his cheekor pull the axe from the bed.
With glorious victory at hand, he reached for the bound volume that was his masters spellbook, the youth relishing every moment of his victory, but it was for not. Even as he lifted the ancient tomb it set aflame, burning his hands though Lothair wouldnt let go, he tried frantically to open it and learn what secrets he may before it was too late, but it turned to ash before he ever had a chance. Then the room about him lit into flame, grabbing for the pigeonholed wall of scrolls, he grabbed at as many as he could, each catching ablaze and burning his hands. Finally, as the fire grew around him, he leaped from the room and bounded down the stairs to find that the entirety of the tower was on fire, Gydeons trap to seal the fate of his death dealer. Lothair had a choice at that moment to flee from the building through the open front door, which was visible to him or turn back and grab his own spellbook, which could easily cost him his life, but what would his life be without any of the power he spent so long to acquire? Even the survival instinct that had grown into him couldnt override this new sense he had about himself, he yearned for power and knew without even his meager spellbook he would never reach it.
Flying into his room, fiery beams crashing all about him, he grabbed his tome and pouch. Turning then, his hands still burning as he held fast to his most precious items, but luck didnt seem to be with him, or perhaps it was the spirit of his fallen master coming to seek his revenge. Broken free by the fire a beam fell, falling and slamming directly into the youths face, catching him right between the eyes. Lothair didnt stay on his feet long, a new soggy warmth, not at all like that blazing heat of the fire around him, covered his face and dripped onto his tunic. The room spinning, and from the combination of heat exhaustion, smoke inhalation, and the great wooden beam to the head, Lothair fell as the fire consumed everything around him. Even as the thick warm liquid covered his vision, and everything slowly turned black he remembered to hold fast to those most precious items to him, the book and pouch.
The fires raged the night consuming the tower and finally died out just before dawn. Lothair woke up some hundred feet from the tower and he glanced around, wiping the dried flakes from his eyes, though he could feel that his face was still covered mostly. He glanced around in complete shock to find that he was indeed still alive, his hands still grasping the items, though the burns were now raw and he couldnt feel it at all though, which was probably for the better. His head did hurt though and as he crawled over to the well, not really concerned about his apparent salvation at unknown hands, he pulled up the pale to find the water from the well black and thick as tar, it would seem Gydeons curse had spoiled the land to every degree. Lothair found the horses lame and of no use now, so he was forced to walk some five miles to the neighboring farm, and the trek was oddly familiar to him, as he remembered his flight from the village and into the dunes of the Bright Desert. How history did enjoy to repeat itself.
The kindly couple took him in as he expected and tended to his wounds, completely shocked that their mighty wizard neighbor had fallen to a simple fire, but Lothair spun a tale so brilliant that no one argued, but he knew that diviners from Greyhawk associates of his master were probably already on their way, seeing what happened and seeking him out. So only after a few hours to rest and have his wounds treated, the youth, now a man was off, after convincing the couple to let him borrow a horse. He fled, and didnt stop until he had left the Domain of Greyhawk completely. To the distant lands he traveled, and has done so for the remaining six years of his life, taking up odd jobs and living from small town to small town slowly gathering himself. To seek out new powers so that he might one day return to Greyhawk, a mere student no longer.
