The result of forbidden passion, this godless fighter pursues a goal he alone is privy to.


Race: Half-Elf
Class: Fighter (5)
Gender: Male
Age: ???
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Deity: N/A
Homeland: N/A
Size: Medium
Ht: 6’4"
Wt: 144 lb
Eyes: Affected by external factors
Hair: White w/ streak affected by external factors

STR: 11
DEX: 20
CON: 14
INT: 12
WIS: 12
CHA: 9

Speed: 30 ft.
Initiative: +8

Armor Class
AC: 22

Hit Points
HP: 49

Fortitude: +8
Reflex: +10
Will: +4

Rapier – Type Piercing, +11 (9), 1d6 Damage, Crit 18-20 (x2)
Short Sword – Type Piercing, +10 (8), 1d6 Damage, Crit 19-20 (x2)
Kukri – Type Slashing, +10 (8), 1d4 Damage, Crit 18-20 (x2)

Climb +2
Craft: Weapons +5
Handle Animal -1
Intimidate -1
Knowledge (Dungeoneering) +3
Knowledge (Engineering) +3
Perception +14
Profession: Soldier +3
Ride +5
Survival +3
Swim +2

TRAIT: Fencer
TRAIT: Elven Reflexes
- Weapon Finesse
- Two Weapon Fighting
- Quick Draw
- Improved Initiative
- Dodge
- Mobility

Special Abilities
- Low Light Vision
- Elf Blood
- Elven Immunities (Magic Sleep)
- Keen Senses
- Multitalented (Fighter/Bard)

- Bravery (+1 vs Fear)
- Weapon Training +1
- Armor Training +1


Humans and Elves have existed in harmony: the former admires and covets the incomparable beauty of the latter, while the latter is drawn to the passion with which the former performs each and every task in their relatively brief lifetime.

Sometimes admiration evolves into infatuation; like turns to love, a force that transcends racial barriers. Sometimes this love develops further – desires for the flesh, a fervor that can only be satisfied by a night of ecstasy. Sarthulis is the result of one such night – the bastard child of a fire that burned too bright and too fast. Though the elven father disappeared without a trace, Sarthulis survived through infancy under the care of his human mother. But soon, the elven traits which Sarthulis inherited began to show; decades passed, and while the community around him aged and passed away, he had the looks of one barely past a dozen summers. Too mature to mingle with the young, but shunned by the adults for his still-childlike features, Sarthulis lived the life of an outcast, detached from the lives of the people who raised him, until one day, just like his father, he disappeared.

It would be many years before he reappeared; nothing is known of the intervening years, but one thing is for certain – he had not spent those years idle. He had become a seasoned warrior, fighting foes unknown in lands unknown to hone his technique. A sleek breastplate encases his slender torso, everywhere else protected by hard leather to allow for ease of movement, vital to his dexterous style as a fighter. A rapier and short sword hang from his hips, both clearly used, yet kept pristine by maintenance and care. White hair crowns the young half-elf’s head, a stark contrast of age and weariness. But a streak of coloured hair defies the rest, changing as the seasons do, reflected also in his piercing eyes – a gift of his elven blood.


Nullius in Verba OhMyGodImOnFire