Backgrounds

[Rem-13]

Post em here.

[Dr. Cringle]

Gear was not born into existence, but built into it. How or why the being known as Gear was brought to existence is a mystery that even he himself has yet to solve. Since he cannot remember when he was built, Gear refers to the day he gained sentience as the day of his ‘birth’, making the living construct twenty five years old.

While most people would associate their birthdays as joyous occasions, Gear viewed his as more along the lines of a yearly depressing affair. As each year passed by him, Gear did not age or grow; he just remained as he was. Nothing on his thick carcass made of tempered metal or carved wood showed any sign that the passage of time affected him as it did to other beings.

This mind-set soon made the living-construct grow a strong sense of apathy towards other creatures, which greatly hindered his social skills. Gear, however, had no need of social skills in the vast wilderness where he resided. Here, in a place void of civilization, he could ignore his sense of timelessness.

Sadly, the place which kept Gear at ease was soon targeted for eradication so that civilization could expand. The Warforged, however, greatly opposed this. Using whatever means at his disposal, Gear forced back the people who came to destroy his home. His efforts were not unnoticed, as the people he kept at bay hired a group of mercenaries to eliminate him.

The mercenaries were no match for Gear, however, as he eviscerated them all. The battle against them wasn’t without its drawbacks though. The aftermath left the living-construct with deep, gnarled-looking scars. These scars, after long inspection of them, brought Gear to an epiphany.

Whilst his body did not show signs of age, his scars did. His scars were signs of history and of age. While they weren’t normal organic scars, they were scars nonetheless. And Gear gained those scars through battle. If going into battle meant he could obtain more scars, more signs of age, then Gear decided that he would continue to do battle by any means necessary.

After leaving his home in search of battle, Gear soon came across agents of The Red Company, who were affiliated with the same agents that the Warforged slew to protect himself and his home.

These agents, however, did not come to him to finish the job their comrades failed to do, but to recruit him into their fold after witnessing his frightening build. They warned Gear the risk of joining the company, mentioning that he’d have to engage in battle on several occasions to finish missions that he was assigned to, but Gear merely grinned, and accepted the offer after mention of battle.


After passing a rigorous entrance examination, the living construct was soon accepted into The Red Company, where he sought missions that would put him straight into conflict…

http://www.rpgwebprofiler.net/view.php?id=48524

[Rem-13]

+600 xp

+1 Feat:
COMBAT INTIMIDATION [General]
Your rough and strange appearance makes you capable of intimidating others more easily in combat.
Benefit: You can make one Intimidate skill check each round as a free action, but only to demoralize an opponent in combat. As a move-equivalent action, you can try to demoralize all opponents you threaten in melee combat.

[Abel]

Havoc was raised in a large city by an abusive father. The man didn't just hit his son though, he also let out his rage on Havoc's mother. After a harsh fight, in the middle of the night there was a scream from his mother and no other sounds. The next morning it had been reported that the mother had mysteriously vanished without a trace. Afraid that he could be next, even though he was only sixteen, the boy left as soon as the next day as quickly as he could.

Havoc had to raise himself from there, he grew up on the streets and in the wilderness. He learned to survive without money and be on his own for a long time. He learned that adventuring was a good way to get some good coin and did some off jobs every now and then so that he would be able to make life a little bit easier.

Four years after he ran away, Havoc wanted to go back, and visit his home again. He returned to the city he was raised and, and somehow remembered the way to his house. A little after noon time, the now twenty year old was knocking on his abusive father's door. He was nervous, his heart pounded. His mind was moving at the speed of light, reminding him of how he was hit, and how his mother mysteriously disappeared.

The door opened before he could decide he should leave. There stood his father, looking as though he was a drunk, as though he was fine. In the background a kid was running around happily. The man squinted his eyes and looked at Havoc, feeling as though he's seen him before, but the wilderness played tricks on his facial features, changing from his boyish face to a face of a man.

"Yeah? What do you want?"

"Don't remember me? Father."

There was no courtesy in his voice. Then the man at the door realized. He tried to shut the door but Havoc slammed into it, breaking it. He grabbed his old man by the neck and dragged him with him. The kid was screaming and crying, not understanding. Woman, seemingly pleasant ran to the kid to see what was wrong, but Havoc and his father were already gone. The door was still broken, though.

Havoc took his father to the nearest alleyway. And threw him to the ground.

"Son! What are you doing?! Why-"

"You killed my mother...I can't call you my father. You used to hit me, you've been a drunk your whole life. It's time for my revenge."

Havoc gripped his sword and held it above him.

"Son, wait. I've changed. After you ran away, I didn't know how to handle myself, and I quit drinking, I started a new family and am happy!"

"Good story." The sword came down on his father. No, not his father. He didn't consider the man his flesh and blood.

No other sounds came from the man as Havoc sheathed a sword, stained with blood. He could now live without anger in his heart. But this would, of course, change him forever.

http://www.dndonlinegames.com/view.php?id=56904

[Rem-13]

+500 xp

+1 Feat:
BRUTE [General, Fighter]
Years of relying on muscle have taught you how to use it.
Benefit: When calculating damage inflicted, consider your Strength to be two points higher than it actually is.

[Sullivan]

Shinno had always been a quiet man. Not necessarily a shy man, but a quiet one none-the-less. His father had been an elf, his mother had been a human. As a result, his genetics used the two as a springboard for something he considered far superior: a half-elf, taking the best traits from the two races. Growing up around the house, he had learned to speak both Common and Elven.

As he neared "the age", his parents had made a joint decision that it was about time that he leave the house. Though not entirely happy about it, Shinno did decide that it was best that he go on to lead his own life. After all, he couldn't live at home with his parents forever, could he? So, he left town. At first, he really didn't do much of anything with his life. He took to wandering, passing through town by town and meeting person after person. But never did he stay, as he wasn't yet ready to take root anywhere.

Upon his journeys Shinno had accumulated a good sum of cash, from trading things he found here or there, and doing various odd-jobs in the towns he stopped in. He had a great number of adventurer's items to show for this, including his very own weapon that he used to keep himself defended when he had no place to stay.

One day, however, his life would take root.

It was a particularly nippy evening, and Shinno had his cloak drawn tightly around him to keep himself warm. Despite this, he still found himself shivering. His sense of adventure had pointed him in the western direction, and was now carrying him on a beaten dirt road that bordered a particularly dark and gloomy forest. From inside, he could hear the crackle of a fire and roars of laughter that carried to the main road. But he was feeling particularly fatigued after a long day's walking, and if the presence in the forest was not benevolent, he was not willing to take up arms.

But as a particularly plump apple soared over his head, the result of some unknown being flinging it presumably, Shinno found his stomach rumbling uncontrollably. Surely it had been more than a day since his last full meal...and as such, was it not worth the risk to see if he could find himself something to eat? His hunger overcame his better judgment, and the half-elf found himself following the voices from within the forest.

It didn't take long for him to stumble across a party of either half-elves or elves, that bore much resemblance to himself. Shinno stood lurking in the shadows, and they had not yet noticed his presence. But he had noticed theirs. He waited to overhear what they were saying before he approached.

"Hears to a good day's work, mates!" bellowed out one, raising up a mug of beer. "Rubai 'erself would be proud o' us!"

A unified "here, here!" rang out, and the party clinked their glasses together before swigging down a few gulps jovially. It did look like a fun time, and Shinno was very, very tempted to step forth. But then he spotted a wandering eye, that had apparently found its way to him.

"Well what do we 'ave here?"

All the heads turned to rest their gaze on Shinno, the intruder standing in the dark shadows of looming tree.

"I should run you through with my blade right quick, fer lurkin' around our campground!" stated a particularly large elf, with a grizzled appearance. He rose to his feet, unsheathing his sword. It definitely was long...Shinno was rather uneasy.

He brought his hands up in defense, putting on an innocent expression.

"Now wait just a minute," he stated. "I'm just a hungry ol' traveler looking for warmth and food. I've traveled far and wide, and seen a great many things. Many respect me, and an equal amount despise me, but I have been known for large amount deeds. Surely you could spare some nourishment for one such as I?"

The elf lowered his blade, and Shinno spotted an emblem on his armor. It was red, with hints of green at the bottom. But Shinno recognized it.

"Ah, Red Company," Shinno started, a keen look in his eye. "Held a tavern in my hometown once, they did. I don't suppose there'd be any way for me to join, maybe?"

What better time to start his life anew than now? After all, he had no strong moral feelings towards either benevolence or malevolence. And maybe, just maybe he could climb the ranks here to make something of himself. He could see himself as a soldier...after all, he had fought off many creatures with his halberd, whilst on the road to here or there.

"Alright," stated the tall man, after mulling it over a minute or two. "You can take yerself a test...and then we'll see what ye're made of."

And so he did, and thus he was granted entry into the Red Company. Shinno found his place in a low rank band of recruitees of varied sorts. However, he wasn't really there to meet any sort of goal. He just wanted to have himself a good time, whether it be in battle or whether it be fraternizing with fellow travelers. After all, what bond was greater than the bond of brotherhood formed by a travelling party?

[ http://www.dndonlinegames.com/view.php?id=53180 ]

[Rem-13]

+450 xp

+1 Feat:
SPINNING HALBERD [Style]
You have a way of fighting with all parts of the halberd, Blade to butt.
Benefit: When you make a full round attack with your halberd you gain +2 dodge bonus to AC as well as an additional attack with the weapon at a -4 penalty. This attack does bludgeoning damage equal to 1d6+ 1/2 your strength modifier(rounded down).

[Talys]

[Disclaimer: It has been a while since I've written stuff. This is a bit longer than I intended and I can't gurantee the quality.]

Talyn Cross was born into humble beginnings, about as humble as they come, actually. Both his mother and father were raised as simple farmers in a section of the Farmer’s Federation near the Tribal Lands, and never had plans to be much else. Even as children, their lives were crystal clear. He was the only young man for miles and miles, she was the only young woman for miles and miles. It was a match made in heaven. The two families joined land and let themselves grow old and content, living off of what they could make on their own. Talyn wished his life would have been so translucent. From the day he was born into his average mother’s and average father’s arms he wished he could have lived a simple, average life with them on the farm, settling for contentment just as the generations before him, but he knew it could never be.

When the young farm boy was nearing his eleventh summer on the planet, the hammer struck their minute bubble of land. More correctly, the Anvil struck their minute bubble of land. For reasons that the boy would never understand, the Empire of Anvil had become worried with the farmers and began a program to “stifle the anarchy”.

What anarchy? Talyn constantly asked himself through the years. The only thing close to anarchy that the Crosses may have been accused for would have been not sending their taxes to the ruler hundreds of leagues north of them. . .the prices he named were three times what they harvested on a good year! But for no reason other than this pitiful excuse, a ten year old boy watched from under his bed as his entire family; mother, father, grandparents, sister, baby brother, every last one of them, was mercilessly slaughtered by Anvil soldiers.

The sight was too much for the child to bear, and the first task he set himself to after his emergence in the wake of the soldiers was to forcibly spew his insides out followed by a few hours of wailing out what was left. At the ripe age of eleven, the poor boy had his life’s hopes and dreams swept from him along with the only society that he had ever known. He couldn’t take it, and could think of nothing rational to do. The boy’s first thoughts were of his mutilated family and how he could not stand to see their torn, naked bodies before him, so he ran from them.

He did not stop when he was merely away from their physical presence, however, and continued on a manic charge for two days on end. At sunrise of the second day, he had driven his way deep into the Dry Sea and by the time he passed out near sunset, he could see the luscious green mountains on the other side. Through his exceedingly wavy vision, due in part to his slipping consciousness and because of the shear heat of the desert, he could make out a large wooden building nested into the side of the tree covered mound with figures rushing quickly from it to his aid.

The figures who descended from above to his rescue were monks of a monastery in the mountains along the western edge of the mountains of the Dry Sea. The peaceful martial artists offered a place in their home to the Talyn and the young boy accepted. Why he accepted, he is again unsure of. It may have been out of desperation, maybe it was an open society to replace the one he lost, perhaps he saw friendliness in the monks, or it could have simply be the alluring smell of alcohol wafting from an open bottle in the room. The reason doesn’t matter, what does is that he did accept. For the following ten years, the monks raised the young boy into a fierce fighter. Talyn developed an uncanny quickness in battle which allowed him to avoid attacks and strike multiple times quicker than many of those whom had been training their entire lives. Along with these talents, the monks bestowed upon the boy, now a man, two very important things: a love for fighting and a love for alcohol. Neither of these traits were very much approved of by the inhabitants of the monastery, but they allowed some leeway, understanding what Talyn had been through. Besides, when the man was indulging in either of his favorite activities, he seemed light hearted and of calm mind rather than his normal sarcastic stubbornness.

All good things must come to an end, however, and Talyn had to eventually leave the monks and the free drink behind. The combative monk realized now that in order for him to achieve and inner peace he had to confront his internal enemy face to face. The enemy in his case was the ruler of Anvil himself. Talyn realized, of course, that he had to start small which is probably the reason that he found himself in a small town tavern one day conversing over the table with a powerful woman bearing a mane of crimson-red hair.

“Why, exactly, do you intend on joining with the Red Company?” The woman prodded again. It was impossible to get a straight answer from this monk!

“Well, I love to fight, I need money, and I have often dreamed of. . .meeting different people,” Talyn finally let the moderately attractive warrior win after a half hour of sarcastic banter.

“Alright, fine, what I gather of you suits us well enough,” she sighed and tossed a badge to the quick handed monk and slid some papers across the table. “Here’re your forms.”

Talyn slowly rose to his full height of five eleven and continued upward into a long stretch. The monk then proceeded to straighten out his baggy black pants and adjust the red sash he used as a belt (he seldom wore much more than his black, red rimmed pants, his sash, and maybe a small vest) and finally turned towards the papers.

“Let’s see here. . .” he lifted the papers and read silently to himself. “The ‘Dire Rats’?”

Talyn scoffed and reached for his waterskin, hesitating slightly and reaching for his second instead.

“This could get interesting,” the monk popped the cap from the skin and drank thoroughly as the faint smell of strong alcohol spread through the surrounding air.

http://www.thetangledweb.net/profiler/view.php?id=17200

[Rem-13]

+450 xp

+1 Feat:
Soothing Ki [Monk]:
Your monastary has taught you a unique use of you inner ki. By melding your ki with a ally's you can enhance its healing properties.
Benefit: Physical contact is required. This is a full round ability. When activated your ally immediately is healed 1d6+[wis mod+ 1/2monk level(rounded down)]. You and your ally then continue to regain 1d4 hit points for as many rounds as your levels in monk. This can be used on you and one ally only. This can be used once daily.

[Piccolo Daimoun]

Many merchant caravans go from town to town, trying to sell whatever they can get their hands on. One of these caravans entailed two people; a man named Daniel and a woman named Serena. It was almost impossible to not become infatuated with each other after so much time on the road. After two years of traveling together, they had a baby boy named Patrick.

Unfortunately for Patrick, he never got to meet his mother. She died during childbirth, and his father had to do all he could to keep Patrick alive. Luckily he was able to do just that, and he came away with a son. The only thing he had left to remind him of his deceased lover was the little boy they had created.

To his great woe, Daniel couldn’t keep Patrick on the road with him. The lanes rarely traveled by common-folk were often patrolled by thieves and bandits. However, the only guard Daniel had ever needed was Serena, who was an accomplished Sorceress. Without her, and due for the fear of carrying a baby along a dangerous road, Daniel knew he couldn’t continue.

But where could he take him? The course was soon clear to Pat’s father, as he realized that the only relatively safe place to leave him would be in Luskan, with his brother and Patrick’s uncle. His uncle, Brendan, had no trouble taking the small boy into his house and raising him. Daniel even left him a large sum of coin for doing so, to ease the trouble of raising a child.

Yet, while Luskan was still safer than the way of life Daniel took, it still wasn’t a haven. There were many gangs within its streets, and all kinds of horrible people could be found. Brendan often found himself marked for suddenly having great sums of gold and much of it would be stolen so that both Brendan and Patrick could survive without worry of attack.

Patrick couldn’t have asked for a worse eighth birthday from Luskan. Greed soon took over for these criminals. They demanded more and more from Patrick’s caregiver, until he couldn’t pay them any longer. They didn’t take that well, and decided that Brendan must be holding out on them. One of their ranks had been studying magic, but was notoriously bad at it. He sprayed a number of magic missiles at Brendan, but one of them missed and collided straight into Patrick. He was taken off his feat and smashed into a wall, which then collapsed on top of him.

However, something completely unexpected happened. Instead of being murdered by the barely potent magical spell, his body was able to absorb it. Instead of being crushed, the magical energy protected him from harm. Patrick was battered, scared out of his wits, and worried for his uncle’s safety.

But he was alive.

After a day of being trapped underneath the rubble, a number of militia members came in and rescued in. It was then that the young boy was forced to witness his Uncle’s horribly mangled and cut up body. Because of the whole experience, Patrick became horribly claustrophobic. He also had a neat scar that ran along his face, as well as a slightly disfigured, yet still functioning, eye.

When Daniel heard the news, he was outraged. He pulled Patrick out of Luskan immediately, and decided to ask a favor of an old friend of his; Arc Sable. Arc was the head of a magic school, and the two had been good friends. They hadn’t talked or seen each other for quite some time, but Arc was happy to bring Patrick into his school. Patrick did many chores for Arc to repay him for the room and board he received, and at age ten Arc accepted him into his school free of charge for his good behavior.

Patrick studied there diligently, but didn’t seem to make any friends. In fact, he was often made fun of for being poor. One day, he was pushed over the edge by an older student. Patrick was challenged to a fight, and accepted with earnest. There were only one spell cast; a ray of enfeeblement used against Patrick. However, his body simply took and redirected the spell, but with slightly more focus. The other student was unable to stand, let alone fight after the ray hit him. He was given the nickname ‘Hexx’ for being able to withstand the spell. He soon came to prefer that name above his true one.

Patrick worked very hard, and had a lot to show for it. He soon became the head of his class, and it stayed like that at age fourteen. He was the first student to be able to perform a level one spell in his class. Arc saw great promise in the boy, and put him to work doing small odd jobs in and around town for him. He became smarter, stronger, and more resilient every day.

One day, a recruiter from the Red Company came to the school. They were looking for young talent. The idea was to find promising young members, so that they could easily be molded into excellent older ones. Arc had no choice but to recommend Patrick. He was apprehensive at first, but he soon realized that he would probably get paid for the job. He might finally be able to take care of himself.

He signed up as Hexx. A year later and the fifteen year old Wizard still works for the Red Company.

http://www.dndonlinegames.com/view.php?id=53308

[Rem-13]

+450 xp

ARCANE POWER [Magic]
For some reason magic in your body works differently than most.
Benefit: Half of the damage inflicted by an arcane spell modified by this feat is treated as raw magical energy, making it resistant to protection from elements and similar magic. The other half of the damage is treated normally as per the spell. Additionally once per day you can add 1d4 force damage to any offensive spell of your choice.

[Blue]

They say some men are born to greatness, while others have greatness thrust upon them. And then there’s Rimidool, a Gnome of exception gifts and exceptional laziness. A wizard by trade, one might say that means he has to at least study hard. Nope. Researching spells comes so easy to him; he might as well have been born a sorcerer. And besides, something as fun as magic could never be related to anything difficult.

There’s nothing more rewarding than having a well-planned prank fall into place, and how better to prank someone than to use magic? A hard-working man comes home late from work to his loving wife. Normal and boring. A hard-working man comes home to his loving wife with a glammered lipstick stain on his shirt. Now that’s entertainment!

Born of typical parents, in a typical town, no one expect much of the young Rimidool. Everyone was so average it seemed impossible that anything great could come from it. Oh how wrong they were. For, from even the dankest cesspool of mediocrity a diamond may be born. That diamond was not Rimidool, but he came close, dammit. He was blessed with everything the Gnomes considered great. Charm, wit, a good-sense of humor, and a competence with illusion that bordered on the super-gnomish. And yet, something went amiss. The boy was born lazy, perhaps because of his innate gifts he felt he didn’t need to try anymore. Everything came so easy to him, so why should he?

Anyway, as all young men do, Rimidool eventually left for some formal schooling. Wizard school seemed only the most natural choice. Seriously, Bramblethumb the Warrior? It doesn’t even flow well! But Rimidool the Almighty? Much better.

Several dozen years passed as the Rimi floated through school. He was held back a few times due to failing grades, but that was more a reflection of his study habits than his mind. Homework was for geeks. Eventually though, he made it. And then it hit him, what to do next? There were no more hurdles for him to conquer. He was a wizard now, true, but why? What did it afford him? A slightly above par existence amongst his fellows back home? Rimidool wouldn’t have it! He would leave behind his old life and strike out on his own. Adventure waited just around the next bend and the mage was eager to meet it.

Apparently, adventure had pointy claws. Ow. And so, the wizard decided he needed to find himself some patsie- I mean brave fellows to assist his noble quest of self-enlightenment.

(OOC: And that’s when he stumbles across you guys. Such a disappointment)

[Rem-13]

+450 xp

Innate Illusionist
Your skill with illusions make them second nature to you. Casting them is almost effortless.
Benefit: Any illusion whose spell level is up to one less than your highest known level (maximum level 3) can be cast once per turn as a free action. In addition no somatic, verbal, or material components are needed.

[Blue]

http://www.thetangledweb.net/profiler/view.php?id=18207

[Blue]

Born amongst the swirling cacophany known as the Plane of Limbo, R'dri's life was tough, at least by human standards. Every aspect of his day was planned out, from the time to awaken in what was generally refered to as morning, to what activity was to be done during recreation time. Even the precise time of his birth was preplanned. Order kept the monastary safe, making sure that the chaos of the realm remained outside the stone walls.

R'dri neither enjoyed this life nor hated it. Such was the way of the Githzerai, the illithid-slaying race and mortal enemies of the Githyanki. Every hour not spent in sleep, was spent honing his body for battle against the accursed mindflayers. Never again would the Githzerai allow the brain-eaters to gain a foothold in the planes. The more he trained, the more it became apparent to the monastary leaders that R'dri was unusually endowed with a predeliction towards the monkhood.

Thusly, his training became geared towards turning his body into the ultimate weapon. His fists hit hard, his kicks were deadly, but more than anything his ability to gauge an opponent's attack and avoid it was outstanding. The Githzerai's mindset was that an opponent that couldn't hit you was an opponent defeated. Before long, the time came when his induction into the monkhood was complete but for one task. He would leave on a rrakkma, a special hunting party sent to the Material Plane to root out and slay illithids, atleast as many as their number.

All was going well, the rrakkma had slain all but one remaining illithid and they were eager to finish this task and return home. Disaster struck as they came across their quarry. The insufferable mindflayer had led them into a trap, bringing the underground cavern in on top of them. R'dri was only saved as his elder, Mmrggo pushed the younger Githzerai from harm's way. But what kind of life would come to him now, stranded from home in a land where any being would gladly slay him for merely being different.

The monk knew he had to disguise himself, and he came across an item that would do just that. A simple hat, or so it appeared to a casual onlooker. However, its magic allowed R'dri to camoflage his appearance. Choosing the form of a male human in standard clothing, he then set on his task of returning home. Easier said then done, the Monk travelled the countryside seeking rumors of dimensional portals. Many hardships crossed R'dri's path, from encounters with ogres to trying to fit in amongst the denizens of the varied towns. It was all very strange for a man who came from the structured society of the Githzerai.

During his journeys, he came across a young elf by the name of Pheare Rubai, aiding the woman in her battle against a band of orcs. Perhaps it was fate that they met, but the two travelled together for awhile, until word of her father's death sent her away to take command of a band called the Red Company. Despite the time spent together, R'dri had to bid the young lady farewell, as he still had a task to accomplish. However, the lass was not about to let him go so easily. She proposed a test of skill. If she won, he would work towards her ends until such time as she saw fit to let him go. If the Monk came out victorious, she would use the entire resources of the Red Company to send him back to his monastary in Limbo.

R'dri was shocked that the woman had seen through his disguise, though this soon faded to admiration towards her intuitiveness. He, of course, accepted the offer, confident that his skills would bring her to heel. The clash went on for many hours, neither fighter able to land a blow on the other until a lucky strike from the elf sent R'dri to his knees. But rather than feel anger at the delay of his return to Limbo, R'dri felt a welling of excitement enter his stoic heart. Perhaps he had found a second home amongst the people of the Red Company. And with such people around him, the Monk knew he would only gain more strength as time went by.

http://www.thetangledweb.net/addon.php?a...r&cid=1798

[Rem-13]

+1 Feat:

Arduous training
Your training has been strict and given you a number of benefits.

Benefits: First, you retain your Dxterity bonus to AC even if you are caught flat-footed, as a barbarian's Uncanny Dodge. Second you gain a +5 on Survival checks due to harsh conditions (weather, enviroment, ect). Lastly if your hit points drop below 0 you may attempt a DC 20 fortitude save and remain conscious for 1d4 rounds. You still lose hitpoints and make stability checks as if you were dying.

[Dr. Cringle]

“Hello there traveler, what can I do ye’ for? A tale ya’ say? Hmm, I suppose I could tell you a tale or two. Not much of a bard tho’... Let’s see, how ‘bout the one of Gear? Hmm, your one of those magelings aren’t ya? You might benefit from this tale...”

Gear was originally a mage, like yerself, who had been dabbling in the theory of immorality. Soon, however, mere dabbling became more of an obsession... The mage invested all his wealth, time, and existence into this obsession, and it soon came into fruition. Using stolen schematics from another plane of existence, the mage built several constructs with which he would use to harbor his soul. After years of experimentation, the mage finally felt ready to initiate the procedure that would place his soul into a construct.

Theoretically, if one of his construct bodies became worn with use, he'd just repeat the procedure that would allow him to place his soul into another construct. However, procedure didn't go as planned....

You see, ripping a soul from the body it originally came from created an effect similar to splitting an atom. The mage, unaware of this flaw, continued as planned. When the mage had successfully transmitted his soul into a construct, his original body exploded outward violently, decimating the lab used for the project, along with the numerous construct bodies he’d built.

The construct harboring the mage’s soul, however, survived the explosion due to the several magical spells intertwined within the construct's body, which the mage had weaved into before the procedure to prolong its use.

The spells managed to protect the construct. However, the spells weren't designed to take such abuse, and immediately dispersed after the explosion. Nothing was left of the mage's home or lab, and truthfully, nothing was left of the mage either. Not even a memory... You see, while the mage had successfully placed his soul into the construct, he hadn't fathomed the consequences. Whilst in theory a soul was the intangible essence of a person, it was not a body. Therefore, it didn't retain any of the mage's memories... So with no memories of himself, and no sense of being, the construct wandered aimlessly into the wilderness that surrounded his home...

"That be the end of the tale, young mageling. You do well to remember that mage's mistakes, or else ya' might find yerself in a similar situation. Hmm? You want to know what happened to the wandering construct? Heh, that be a tale for another time.."

[Dr. Cringle]

http://www.dndonlinegames.com/view.php?id=60925