Eberron and on...
Mord, level 1 Half-Orc, Assassin (Executioner)
Assassin Guild Technique: Red Scales
Inherent Bonuses: Refugee (Eberron Player’s Guide) (+2 to Endurance)
STR 13, CON 13, DEX 18, INT 8, WIS 10, CHA 10
AC: 18 Fort: 15 Ref: 16 Will: 11
HP: 27 Surges: 9 Surge Value: 6
Basic Attack: Melee Basic Attack
Basic Attack: Ranged Basic Attack
Guttersnipe Attack: Running Slash
Half-Orc Racial Power: Furious Assault
Assassin Attack: Assassin’s Strike
Assassin Attack: Garrote Strangle
Assassin Attack: Poisoned Dagger
Assassin Attack: Quick Lunge
Level 1: Two-Weapon Defense
Level 1: Superior Fortitude
-Carrion Crawler Brain Juice
My earliest memories are of traveling, joining up with other refugees of the war. Big Grum said we were from the demon wastes, others that I must have been born in Droaam, but that’s where the Monsters come from!?
Our traveling companions were from all races and continents and we joined other displaced groups in refugee camps, sometimes for years at a time before we were moved on.
My mother was a witch doctor, prejudice against Orcs was rife but others tolerated her for her healing skills. She died before the mourning, disease and starvation claimed her like many others. I didn’t inherit her skills but learnt more interesting uses of her herbs and concoctions.
After her death I had to fend for myself, running with the other youngsters, working city markets for food when we couldn’t get handouts from the temple missionaries. That was until I met with the Madame Claudia and the Red Scales, she taught me how to put my skills to real use and the money I could earn from private jobs far outweighed the meager scratchings we earned on the streets.
After the mourning the refugee camps swelled, the cities filled with migrants and the war went underground – business was good. Whilst the dragonmarked houses worked on political maneuvering my jobs were much more mundane as merchants jostled for the best pitches and small feuds escalated in the chaos.
My last contract was ambitious, a price I couldn’t resist, I should have been less greedy but the contract came from Madame Claudia herself so I ignored the warning signs. I was informed that Margrave Waldren was about to win a contract to build a new refugee camp on the border of what was Cyre displacing the growing camp from Breland, a small concoction slipped into his evening nightcap would have disabled him long enough to allow the contract to go to Harbert Felingras whose plans were to build a new town on the site of the camp, providing jobs and a future for many of them. Once I was in the Margrave’s manor I saw no sign of his plans – worse still he detected my presence and I barely escaped with my life – he was definitely no ordinary minor noble and managed to tag me with a dart or something as I was fleeing!
As i fled to the docks I recognised the Kalashtar monk who used to visit our camp and snuck aboard the cog she was boarding to hide out, I must have passed out in the hold as when I awoke we were well out to sea – apparently headed for Xendrik!