Nothing is ever that simple.
A tall man with a shaved head and numerous tatoos.
Ilikan, level 1 Goliath, Warden Guardian Might: Earthstrength Background: Wandering Mercenary (Wandering Mercenary Benefit)
FINAL ABILITY SCORES Str 20, Con 16, Dex 10, Int 10, Wis 11, Cha 8.
STARTING ABILITY SCORES Str 18, Con 14, Dex 10, Int 10, Wis 11, Cha 8.
AC: 18 Fort: 17 Reflex: 13 Will: 13 HP: 38 Surges: 12 Surge Value: 9
TRAINED SKILLS Nature +7, Endurance +5, Athletics +9, Perception +5
UNTRAINED SKILLS Acrobatics -3, Arcana, Bluff -1, Diplomacy -1, Dungeoneering, Heal, History, Insight, Intimidate -1, Religion, Stealth -3, Streetwise -1, Thievery -3
FEATS Level 1: Toughness
POWERS Warden at-will 1: Strength of Stone Warden at-will 1: Weight of Earth Warden encounter 1: Gale Strike Warden daily 1: Form of Mountain’s Thunder
ITEMS Hide Armor, Adventurer’s Kit, Heavy Shield, Warhammer, Cloak of the Walking Wounded +1
The morning fog was nearly burned away by the mid-day sun. Strewn around him were the corpses of men he had fought and bled with these past 2 years. Mixed with them were the bodies of the King’s men who were sent to “help” them repel a raiding band from the receding glacier in the north. Their betrayal came as a surprise and they struck when he and his men least expected. Men fought, died, and some even managed to flee from the battle until only he remained. To most men, this betrayal would have driven them to anger and the swearing of oaths of revenge, but he was not like most men. As a mix of blood, sweat, and dew drained down his arm and onto his resting warhammer, he breathed a sigh of disappointment. There was no honor in this attack, no reason to not have at least announced your intentions and reasons before attempting to slaughter those who supposedly fought for the same purpose and goal. “The king is a fool,” he muttered, shouldering his hammer. Glancing one last time at the field around him, he goes to collect some supplies before deciding to strike south. As he debates his options, he decides that perhaps he should simply stick to the mercenary track he had originally embarked on before attempting this experiment of fighting for a cause. Mercenary work was more honest than this, and as a mercenary, he knew where he and his employer stood. Silently nodding to himself and shouldering his pack, he turns his face towards the southern sun and begins on the next stage of his life.