- Joined
- Nov 10, 2008
- Messages
- 16,472
- Reputation score
- 430
Name: Jiriel Karn
Class: Spirit Wielder
Race: Half Daemon
Sex: Male
Body: 12 + 28 = 40
Mind: 10
Spirit: 4 + 12 + 24 = 40
Hit Points (HP): 65
Pleasure to Orgasm (PP): 50
Spirit Energy (EP): 85
Speed: 20 (17)
Dodge: 35 (45 when unarmed)
Armor: 4 (14)
Resistance: 28
Perception: 20
Stealth: 12 (6)
Grapple: 40
Experience: 0
Corruption: 0
Talents:
*Resistant
Natural Warrior: Unarmed Fighter
Massive Energy Pool
3x Exceptional
Alchemist
Spirit Warrior
Psion
Pain Resistant
Flaws:
Mutated
Honorable
Bloodthirsty
*Obvious (-8 Stealth)
*Easy to Hit (-10 Dodge)
*Tainted Bloodline (Gain corruption at 1.5 rate)
Mutations:
*Warped
Natural Attack
Large - +2 to Penetration PP damage.
Funny Ears – Jiriel’s ears are slightly pointed and have a series of slits resembling gills running along the tips. They serve no actual purpose, at least not that he has so far determined.
Spirit Ceiling: 17 (14)
Powers:
Transformation
Reshape
Seal
Battle Aura
Instant Transmission
Explosion
Mind Worm
Empathy
Telepathy
Inventory:
Unarmed Attack(+40) 2d12 + 20
Chainmail: AV = 10, EV = 3, TP = 40, DU = 5. Weak against Piercing. Strong against Slashing.
50 denarii
Bio/Description:
The OOC section:
Racial stats: +12 Body, +4 Spirit
Racial Talents: Resistant
Racial Flaws: Obvious, Easy to Hit, Tainted Bloodline
This was discussed in the shoutbox to a degree, I believe.
Class: Spirit Wielder
Race: Half Daemon
Sex: Male
Body: 12 + 28 = 40
Mind: 10
Spirit: 4 + 12 + 24 = 40
Hit Points (HP): 65
Pleasure to Orgasm (PP): 50
Spirit Energy (EP): 85
Speed: 20 (17)
Dodge: 35 (45 when unarmed)
Armor: 4 (14)
Resistance: 28
Perception: 20
Stealth: 12 (6)
Grapple: 40
Experience: 0
Corruption: 0
Talents:
*Resistant
Natural Warrior: Unarmed Fighter
Massive Energy Pool
3x Exceptional
Alchemist
Spirit Warrior
Psion
Pain Resistant
Flaws:
Mutated
Honorable
Bloodthirsty
*Obvious (-8 Stealth)
*Easy to Hit (-10 Dodge)
*Tainted Bloodline (Gain corruption at 1.5 rate)
Mutations:
*Warped
Natural Attack
Large - +2 to Penetration PP damage.
Funny Ears – Jiriel’s ears are slightly pointed and have a series of slits resembling gills running along the tips. They serve no actual purpose, at least not that he has so far determined.
Spirit Ceiling: 17 (14)
Powers:
Transformation
Reshape
Seal
Battle Aura
Instant Transmission
Explosion
Mind Worm
Empathy
Telepathy
Inventory:
Unarmed Attack(+40) 2d12 + 20
Chainmail: AV = 10, EV = 3, TP = 40, DU = 5. Weak against Piercing. Strong against Slashing.
50 denarii
Bio/Description:
Jiriel was raised by his mother, Laurel Karn, in the small ocean village of Kortis on the Western edge of the Badarian coastline. Laurel, the widow of a fishermen who had been lost at sea many years ago, had been visited by a daemon, Elric, the Drowned King, on the night that Jiriel was conceived, the very same night that her husband’s vessel capsized out at sea, and no trace of it was ever found. She gave birth to him some nine months later, and raised him as best she could on what little she could make from her garden and from her work as a seamstress, and in so doing instilling him with many of the principles and values he would take to heart in later years. Because she was a widow and had a child, Jiriel’s mother faced a great deal of scorn from their fellow townsfolk, some saying that he’d been born out of wedlock, but Laurel had skin far too thick for their opinions to ever bother her too much, at least not that Jiriel ever saw or heard her express. She hadn’t remarried by the time Jiriel reached his eighteenth birthday, roughly two years before the Artmirst invasion brought a band of “adventurers” to their town.
The men were truthfully nothing but bandits, and abused their adopted title to demand free food and lodging amidst the poor townsfolk. The handful of town guards weren’t enough to push them out, and things started to get worse very quickly until, about two weeks after they’d arrived, they took control of the village in full. The townsfolk were no match for skilled and well equipped fighters, and lived under their increasingly oppressive rule for two more months. They were a small fishing village on the edge of the Empire, far from any of the major cities and with no military outposts nearby to send to for aid. At the time, Jiriel was barely an adult, and though his blood boiled with rage at the thoughts, his mother’s wisdom held him back from trying to do something to halt the bandit’s oppression. What could one young man with only his hands do against two dozen armed men, including two mages and one with the power to breathe life into the very earth beneath their feet? The townsfolk, simple people all, did not understand how such things could even exist, much less how magic of such power could possibly be combated or overcome, and at the time Jiriel was among that list.
That all changed when the leader of the bandits took his closest friend, a girl whom Jiriel had grown up alongside named Annabeth, from her parent’s home. She wasn’t the first victim of the bandit’s cruel practices, and many of the young women in the village had been raped over the course of their near enslavement to the bandits. This proved to be the final straw for Jiriel, however, and he finally disobeyed his mother’s words and went off to confront the bandit leader’s words. Upon seeing the beating that Annabeth had taken in refusing his advances, he flew into a rage. That was when his supernatural powers, a gift from the blood of his father, finally came to his attention. The bandit leader was a cunning man, and a dangerous opponent, able to tear the life from a man or shift the ground into a hand to bind him.
Karn tore his mind asunder in his fury, and in so doing learned a few of the dark secrets of his craft, though his mother and Annabeth, those who knew him the best, told him that the knowledge hadn’t been the only thing that had changed about Jiriel that day. He had become stained by the memories that he had taken from the man, they said, darkened and corrupted. Karn simply preferred to think that he had become more jaded, and left it at that. Regardless, however, he quickly learned to use his newfound abilities to the betterment of his village, first driving off the bandits and then helping repair the damage that they had done. He learned of many other abilities that he could access then, not the least of which was the superhuman strength which he could grant himself, albeit for limited amounts of time, and his power to move from place to place quickly if need be.
Two more years passed, and Kortis knew peace. Jiriel began to know peace as well; the memories of the bad times gradually washed away by the difficult and simple but nonetheless fulfilling tasks of day to day life in a small town. He and Annabeth began to grow closer together, eventually becoming lovers, though they tried (and failed miserably of course) to keep that aspect of their relationship a secret from those around them. He began to learn finer control of his natural abilities with use, and even to use them in more complex ways.
Then, the invaders arrived, and things turned bad again.
Kortis was far too small to attract the attention of a full invasion, or even a small dropship, but the residents of the outlying farms surrounding the small town stopped coming in to trade. A week later, when people went to investigate (Jiriel among them) they found the inhabitants either dead, gouges from the claws of creatures that had never been seen before torn into their bodies, or gone. Annabeth was one of the ones who was missing, and despite all of his gifts, it took Jiriel almost a week to find out where the hunters had taken their captives. Half of them were dead by then, the callous aliens having barely fed their victims and abused them almost constantly. A small part of Karn that he was secretly ashamed of to this day wished that he had found Annabeth, his love, among the dead rather than in the state in which he came upon her.
Not a one of the stolen women had enough left in them to even recognize him, except for her. Her eyes lightened the way they always had when she first saw him, the recognition buried under layers of corruption and torture fueled lust making seeing her lying upon the floor of that cavern, her womb bloated with the alien’s spawn and with a hungry look upon her face, only making the pain that rose in the young half-daemon’s chest all the more intense. He had stood over her, paralyzed, for a moment before she reached for him, clawing at his pants.
Something within him seemed to snap, when he saw Annabeth like that. To this day, Jiriel claims that he did not remember what had happened, that he had entered the cavern that the hunters had fled to with their captives and then awakened in the crater where a hill had once been. Every day, he wished that such were true. The explosion of light that tore through the earth had caused it to shake, and destroyed a wide swath of thankfully uninhabited land in the process. There hadn’t even been skeletons left to burry of the women who had been taken, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that all of them had been killed. Some of the families of those who had been lost had blamed him for failing, but he hadn’t even tried to dissuade them from that thought himself, as many of the villagers had formed their own conclusions and spoke in his defense, pointing out that he had lost when that cavern had gone up as well. After that day, Jiriel had been content to remain distant, even from his mother and other friends, though he still helped the village in any way he could, even doing so at his expense if need be.
Finally, however, there came a day when Jiriel felt a need for things to change. He had felt like he was going crazy in Kortis, and even the tasks he performed were becoming tiringly unfulfilling. It was, ironically, his mother, and not he who finally demanded that he be allowed to leave the village. Then, she took him aside and gave him a few simple words; “Don’t trust anyone that you don’t know well, but don’t let that keep you from being open with people neither. Be careful with your coin, and even more careful with what little you carry of value. Trust to your heart and your head, and wander the need to wander away, and then you get back here Jiriel Karn! I know you’ve got to go and see what there is to see, but that don’t mean I’ve gotta like it!”
He’d left the next day, and in the very next village earned himself the favor of the locals by bringing a dangerous mage to justice. He’d go free food for as long as he liked to stay, a pocketful of denarii, and the local blacksmith had even crafted a suit of armor for him. It was archaic stuff, but functional, and he took to liking it quickly enough even though he only stayed a night before continuing on his way.
Physically, Jiriel is a tall man, well over six feet, and extremely well-muscled. He generally stands out in a crowd for his height and bulk, and his long, wavy dark hair and sharp features don’t help him in remaining inconspicuous either. With the addition of the chainmail coat worn over his clothing, he has become even more noticeable, though he keeps the armor dry when it rains by covering it in his plain brown cloak. The most distinguishing features about him, however, are his sea blue eyes and his strange, pointed and slitted ears, which are half the reason he’d taken to keeping his hair long.
The men were truthfully nothing but bandits, and abused their adopted title to demand free food and lodging amidst the poor townsfolk. The handful of town guards weren’t enough to push them out, and things started to get worse very quickly until, about two weeks after they’d arrived, they took control of the village in full. The townsfolk were no match for skilled and well equipped fighters, and lived under their increasingly oppressive rule for two more months. They were a small fishing village on the edge of the Empire, far from any of the major cities and with no military outposts nearby to send to for aid. At the time, Jiriel was barely an adult, and though his blood boiled with rage at the thoughts, his mother’s wisdom held him back from trying to do something to halt the bandit’s oppression. What could one young man with only his hands do against two dozen armed men, including two mages and one with the power to breathe life into the very earth beneath their feet? The townsfolk, simple people all, did not understand how such things could even exist, much less how magic of such power could possibly be combated or overcome, and at the time Jiriel was among that list.
That all changed when the leader of the bandits took his closest friend, a girl whom Jiriel had grown up alongside named Annabeth, from her parent’s home. She wasn’t the first victim of the bandit’s cruel practices, and many of the young women in the village had been raped over the course of their near enslavement to the bandits. This proved to be the final straw for Jiriel, however, and he finally disobeyed his mother’s words and went off to confront the bandit leader’s words. Upon seeing the beating that Annabeth had taken in refusing his advances, he flew into a rage. That was when his supernatural powers, a gift from the blood of his father, finally came to his attention. The bandit leader was a cunning man, and a dangerous opponent, able to tear the life from a man or shift the ground into a hand to bind him.
Karn tore his mind asunder in his fury, and in so doing learned a few of the dark secrets of his craft, though his mother and Annabeth, those who knew him the best, told him that the knowledge hadn’t been the only thing that had changed about Jiriel that day. He had become stained by the memories that he had taken from the man, they said, darkened and corrupted. Karn simply preferred to think that he had become more jaded, and left it at that. Regardless, however, he quickly learned to use his newfound abilities to the betterment of his village, first driving off the bandits and then helping repair the damage that they had done. He learned of many other abilities that he could access then, not the least of which was the superhuman strength which he could grant himself, albeit for limited amounts of time, and his power to move from place to place quickly if need be.
Two more years passed, and Kortis knew peace. Jiriel began to know peace as well; the memories of the bad times gradually washed away by the difficult and simple but nonetheless fulfilling tasks of day to day life in a small town. He and Annabeth began to grow closer together, eventually becoming lovers, though they tried (and failed miserably of course) to keep that aspect of their relationship a secret from those around them. He began to learn finer control of his natural abilities with use, and even to use them in more complex ways.
Then, the invaders arrived, and things turned bad again.
Kortis was far too small to attract the attention of a full invasion, or even a small dropship, but the residents of the outlying farms surrounding the small town stopped coming in to trade. A week later, when people went to investigate (Jiriel among them) they found the inhabitants either dead, gouges from the claws of creatures that had never been seen before torn into their bodies, or gone. Annabeth was one of the ones who was missing, and despite all of his gifts, it took Jiriel almost a week to find out where the hunters had taken their captives. Half of them were dead by then, the callous aliens having barely fed their victims and abused them almost constantly. A small part of Karn that he was secretly ashamed of to this day wished that he had found Annabeth, his love, among the dead rather than in the state in which he came upon her.
Not a one of the stolen women had enough left in them to even recognize him, except for her. Her eyes lightened the way they always had when she first saw him, the recognition buried under layers of corruption and torture fueled lust making seeing her lying upon the floor of that cavern, her womb bloated with the alien’s spawn and with a hungry look upon her face, only making the pain that rose in the young half-daemon’s chest all the more intense. He had stood over her, paralyzed, for a moment before she reached for him, clawing at his pants.
Something within him seemed to snap, when he saw Annabeth like that. To this day, Jiriel claims that he did not remember what had happened, that he had entered the cavern that the hunters had fled to with their captives and then awakened in the crater where a hill had once been. Every day, he wished that such were true. The explosion of light that tore through the earth had caused it to shake, and destroyed a wide swath of thankfully uninhabited land in the process. There hadn’t even been skeletons left to burry of the women who had been taken, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that all of them had been killed. Some of the families of those who had been lost had blamed him for failing, but he hadn’t even tried to dissuade them from that thought himself, as many of the villagers had formed their own conclusions and spoke in his defense, pointing out that he had lost when that cavern had gone up as well. After that day, Jiriel had been content to remain distant, even from his mother and other friends, though he still helped the village in any way he could, even doing so at his expense if need be.
Finally, however, there came a day when Jiriel felt a need for things to change. He had felt like he was going crazy in Kortis, and even the tasks he performed were becoming tiringly unfulfilling. It was, ironically, his mother, and not he who finally demanded that he be allowed to leave the village. Then, she took him aside and gave him a few simple words; “Don’t trust anyone that you don’t know well, but don’t let that keep you from being open with people neither. Be careful with your coin, and even more careful with what little you carry of value. Trust to your heart and your head, and wander the need to wander away, and then you get back here Jiriel Karn! I know you’ve got to go and see what there is to see, but that don’t mean I’ve gotta like it!”
He’d left the next day, and in the very next village earned himself the favor of the locals by bringing a dangerous mage to justice. He’d go free food for as long as he liked to stay, a pocketful of denarii, and the local blacksmith had even crafted a suit of armor for him. It was archaic stuff, but functional, and he took to liking it quickly enough even though he only stayed a night before continuing on his way.
Physically, Jiriel is a tall man, well over six feet, and extremely well-muscled. He generally stands out in a crowd for his height and bulk, and his long, wavy dark hair and sharp features don’t help him in remaining inconspicuous either. With the addition of the chainmail coat worn over his clothing, he has become even more noticeable, though he keeps the armor dry when it rains by covering it in his plain brown cloak. The most distinguishing features about him, however, are his sea blue eyes and his strange, pointed and slitted ears, which are half the reason he’d taken to keeping his hair long.
Racial stats: +12 Body, +4 Spirit
Racial Talents: Resistant
Racial Flaws: Obvious, Easy to Hit, Tainted Bloodline
This was discussed in the shoutbox to a degree, I believe.
