Sir Braelyn

Paladin of Kelemvor

Description:

Human Paladin level 5 AC 22 HP 53

Str 14 Con 14 Dex 10 Int 10 Wis 14 Cha 18

Fort 17 Refl 17 Will 17

Skills Diplomacy – 10 Heal – 9 Insight – 11 Intimidate – 10 Religion – 7

Feats Action Surge (+3 when using an Action Point) Human Perseverance (+1 saves) Kelemvor’s Judgment (close burst 5, radiant damage vs. undead)

Possessions Sunblade Longsword +1 Lifegiving Plate Armor +1 Amulet of Perseverance +1 Symbol of Battle +1

Bio:

He tried to keep his mind on the task as he dug. It must be a good grave. Nevertheless, he kept remembering, with renewed guilt and shame, the previous night.

Noon came and passed as he continued to dig. His mind kept trying to wander back to last night. Relentlessly, he forced it back. Make it deep so that nothing will disturb his rest.

At last it was completed. Scrambling out, he picked up his father’s body. In life, his father had been a well-muscled man, even into his fiftieth year. Now, only a husk remained. After laying the body straight, he began to fill in the grave. His mind again wandered to the past.

Last summer his world came crashing down. They found his father shaking violently where he had fallen. He never regained consciousness. Months passed, and still his father lingered and wasted away. One winter night, his stepmother left, leaving him alone with his father. The loneliness ate at him.

Last night as he fed his father, he discovered that he had shat himself. The long months of toil, loneliness, and frustration exploded into anger and he struck his father. “Damn you!”

Instantly the anger vanished, replaced by shame. The feelings overwhelmed him and he slumped by his father’s bed and wept tears of shame and loneliness. Oh gods, please take him! I’ll do anything! Whatever you ask! Just not this anymore! Please! I can’t do it anymore! He slipped into exhausted sleep there on the floor.

He woke in the morning to find that his father had died in the night. A small flicker of relief and freedom was instantly smothered by guilt. He felt that somehow he had caused his father’s death. Yet, the feeling of relief persisted; which brought even more guilt.

When he finished filling in the grave he leaned on the shovel and stared at it. “I’m sorry Da. It shouldn’t have ended like this. I . . . I . . .”

A voice behind him startled him! “Well boy, you said all you’re going to say? We best be going.”

Whirling around he saw a man mounted on a warhorse. The man was armed and armored for battle, except that he displayed no heraldry; a plain brown tabard covering his breastplate.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your new master. Get your things and let’s go. We’ve tasks to do.”

His mouth gaped open. New master! What? “You’re not my master!”

The man leaned closer. His eyes seemed to bore into his soul. “Oh yes I am, boy.” His voice lowered. “Don’t you remember your promise made in the night? You made a plea in the darkness, boy.

Shock and horror flooded his thoughts! He knows! Oh gods, what have I done? He watched as the man slowly drew back his tabard to reveal the symbol covering his breastplate, the skeletal arm and scales of Kelemvor, god of the dead!

“Someone answered, and your service is the payment He requires!”

Sir Braelyn

Horn of the North wolfhound Lance_Work