This will be the blog of Gram "the Ancient"
NAME Gram
RACE/CLASS Human Magic-User
ALIGNMENT Chaotic Neutral
SEX Male
HEIGHT 5’10”
WEIGHT 125 lbs
WEAPON PROFICIENCIES Staff
DEFAULT WEAPON: Staff
STR 6 -1 Hit -150 Enc
DEX 13
CON 8 60% m, 65% M
INT 18 +7 Additional Languages
WIS 9
CHA 13 5 Henchmen +5% Reaction
CURRENT EXP 5.001 NEXT LEVEL GOAL 10,001
HIT POINTS CURRENT 9
ARMOR CLASS 10
ARMOR WORN None
BASE AC 10
REAR AC 10
SHIELDLESS AC 10
EQUIPMENT
MOVEMENT 12”
CLASS SPECIAL ABILITES Spells
LANGUAGES: Skjold, Common, Drune, Paxian, Low Xanne, Corrough, Elven, Dwarven
MONEY 150 GP
DEITY OR CHURCH HOLY SYMBOL Odin
NUMBER OF SPELLS PER DAY: 2/1
SPELLS MEMORIZED: 1st lvl: Protection from Evil, Sleep; 2nd lvl: Stinking Cloud
SPELLS KNOWN: (In Book)
1st Level: Comprehend Languages, Detect Magic, Identify, Protection from Evil, Read Magic, Sleep
2nd Level: Fool’s Gold, Knock, Stinking Cloud
DESCRIPTION/BACKGROUND STORY...
Nightmares of being a powerful Arch-Mage drained of his might after being bound in darkness where undead fed upon him haunt Gram as he sleeps; nearly every night.
Then he wakes and pulls his long grey beard down to his chest and straightens it with his old, gnarled hands. His dull grey eyes look out from under bushy eyebrows, and he smacks his dry, cracked lips as he reaches for the tiny pouch he keeps his tea in. He then pats down his heavily worn clothes and pulls his hood close over his wild mane of grey hair to keep out the cold that aches him to his bones…even on a warm day Gram is cold…into his tiny pot he pours a bit of water to make his tea…
Gram has no idea how old he is. He only remembers some years ago crawling out of the dark place he had been lost in for decades…he thinks it was decades. He had found an old worn spellbook in that darkness that he was able to learn from. Magic came to him easily.
Gram isn’t senile, his mind is as sharp as a tack for “new” things; but the past is fogged over to him. He mumbles out knowledge at random times that is only somewhat related to what is currently happening…and at other times his dull grey eyes become focused on a task at hand, and he is almost scary…if he wasn’t so old, heavily weathered and scarred and frail…very frail.
