Free spirit and tortured soul


Quick Summary

Age: 30, Race: Fel (Lion), Height: 5 ft, Weight: 110 lbs, Gender: Male, Rank: Seasoned, Experience: 37
Agility: d10, Smarts: d8, Spirit: d8, Strength: d6, Vigor d6
Pace: 6", Parry: 8, Toughness: 8
Skills: Notice d6, Climbing d6, Fighting d10, Throwing d10, Stealth d10, Survival d4, Swimming d4, Knowledge: Journeymen d6, Sorcery d6
Languages: Slavetongue, Darktongue, Earthtongue, Firespeech
Edges: AB:Sorcery – College of Stealth, Agile, Low Light Vision, Treeborn, Claws and Fangs (Str+d6), Acrobatic, Quick Draw, Combat Reflexes
Hindrances: Racial Enemy (Lazuri), Dark Secret, Death Wish, Loyal, One Arm (Left)
Spells (Sorcery): Aid(1), Invisibility(5), Silence(2), Night Lance(1-6), Darkness Manipulation(1)
Cantrips: Distract(1), Change(1), Gather/Spill(1)
Power Points: 18

Katana (slung on back) : Str+d6+2 (AP 2)

Bola (2) : 4/8/16 range
Agility Trick using Throw skill. Success: Target -2 Parry. Raise: Target falls prone, has -2 Parry and is Shaken.

Silver Shuriken (3) : Str, 4/8/16 range
May Auto fire 3/round (-2/att w/o Rock & Roll edge) e.g. can roll 3 att + the wild die with a -2 penalty for auto-fire. Can hit multiple targets.

Dwarven Leather Jacket : +3 armor

Old Leather Jacket
Backpack [2 lbs]
Bedroll [4 lbs]
Rations (10 meals) [10 lbs]
Water skin (Wine) [1 lbs]
Flint and Steel [1 lbs]
Brown Cloak [1 lbs]
Hemp Rope (60 ft) [15 lbs]
Grappling Hook [2 lbs]
Glass Spheres (3) [3 lbs]
Bone Dagger [1 lbs]
Silver Talons (20)
Gold Fangs (50)
Blue-Stone Wand (Hourglass)

Shunned by Ancestors:
Due to his actions in the past, Roku has been shunned by his ancestors. He is unable to cast possession magic.

Physical Appearance:
Before you stands a Fel. His face is long and slender and it wears a weary smile. His fur is the color of burnished bronze and his eyes a cloudy blue. The only clothing he wears is a coat of leathers, the right sleeve tide across his chest as a sash, as he has no arm to fill it. On his back is strapped a well-used blade and scabbard. His mane is unkempt and wild, seemingly with a will of it’s own. As you watch, he deftly rotates three glass orbs through his fingers. Despite you meeting his gaze, he seems to peer straight through you.

• Despite his painful past and the mistakes he’s made, Roku strives to be a good person.
• He is haunted by guilt and self-doubt, but tries to hide it with a cheerful demeanor.
• He is often seen tossing or messing with things in his pockets or his glass spheres. He’s also fond of single-handed juggling or sleight-of-hand. He does this to keep his mind busy.
• Roku is both desperate for companionship and afraid of letting people down.
• He is wary of other Fel.
• He would rather die then be imprisoned again.
• He doesn’t value his own life, and is sometimes suicidal.
• He’s a bit of a mess.

Goals (Character):
• “I would like to go on one more adventure before I go through with it.”

Goals (Player):
• I’d like to see Roku be able to get over the guilt of his past. Maybe eventually buying-out or replacing the ‘Death Wish’ disadvantage.
• He might pursue becoming a full sorcerer, depending on how the story goes.



I am Fel. I am Roku.

I knew from an early age that I was different from my brothers. The thrill of the hunt, the blood-frenzy that filled their eyes and hearts with a lust for the kill. These things meant nothing to me. And yet I tried with every ounce of my being to be what they expected. I gave chase, roared and killed when I was meant to kill, and they believed that I was Fel.

I was the smallest in my pride, a runt, a weakling compared to my brothers. I found solice in the fact that this made me the best at being unseen. I would be sent as the eyes of the pride, to remain hidden and prowl. Then I would return to the real hunters with what I had seen, and they would hunt. I had a purpose, a function; but I was not happy. Years passed.

Then the urge to get away started in my chest. Small at first, barely noticeable. Then it grew large and terrible until I could hardly bear it. On that day I came across a caravan, abandoned in the desert sand. Among the wreckage I found spheres that bent the sun’s light in strange ways and books written in a tongue that I could read. They spoke of far off lands, towering cities and wonders I had yet to imagine. I sat and hungrily read page after page, then hid them away in my bag. It was late and I had to return.

Back at the camp, I waited until the others fell into sleep. Ragira my brother was on watch and I hid myself behind a tree, pulling one of the books from my bag. I began to read and was so absorbed that I did not notice his approach until he wrenched the book from my grasp. He struck me with the back of his hand, and took the books to the fire pit. The embers of the fire leapt into flames, fed by the books he plunged into them. Ragira had promised our father that he would keep me from distractions and to my duties. And that If I ever left, he would bring me back. I went to sleep.

Days later the pride was tracking a Lazuri raiding party and we had them on the run. Zannin has managed to injure the chief. The Lazuri, being unaccustomed to the jungle and our hunting tactics, were cornered and exhausted. Night had fallen and Ragira sent me to pinpoint their location before we struck. I went as I was told. As I crept through the shadow-filled jungle, a terrible idea filled my thoughts. I would make a deal with them, I would be able to finally leave.

One would think it impossible to speak with an injured Lazuri and come out unscathed, but I presented an offer they couldn’t refuse. I would subdue my pride with a Lazuri sleeping drug long enough for the Lazuri to escape, and in return they would let me leave the jungle unharmed. The Lazuri chief agreed and added that I must wave a scented sash as a signal when the deed had been done. Every instinct within me screamed out, but my head nodded, and I took the sleeping drug and sash from his claws.

All it took was a few drops into the water. It was easy, so terribly easy. As the embers of the smokeless fire filled the camp with an orange glow, one by one the pride fell into deep slumber: Ragira my brother, Zannin the great hunter, Muji the mother and her cubs. I gave the signal, then the Lazuri were upon them. No screams, no cries of pain. The sleeping drug saw to that. Nothing but the sickening thud of the Lazuri’s club. One, two, three. I could do nothing but cover my face from the horror of it.

Then the chief Lazuri threw me to the ground. Instead of my life, he took my sword-arm. The teeth of the Lazuri are sharper then you might think. After most of the air and blood had left my body, he told me I could keep the other for when I decided to end my worthless life. He then pressed a crude, cold dagger into my hand. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was the butchering of my tribe. A Lazuri’s scales glistened by the fire’s light as he prepared flesh, fat and bone for Lazuri bellies. That was a sight and smell I would never forget. Then, everything went black.

I awoke on the blood-stained forest floor. The stench of death clung to me as I ran. Through the jungle undergrowth I knew so well, past the sun-baked walls of Thenga Falos, through the Sands of Dawn and Dusk. I ran like a man struck with madness, I ran as if to outpace my own thoughts, and I welcomed the pain that bore into my side like a scorpion’s sting.

In a stupor I set foot into another jungle, familiar but different from the last. When I could run no more, I collapsed under the shade of a twisted root. I stayed there for a time, and learned to adjust to the loss of a limb, a far easier task then adjusting to what I had done. I ended one of the many days atop a tree, peering to the far reaches of the world. The Lazuri dagger hung at my side, and I took it in-hand. I suppressed the urge to throw it deep into the canopy; I did not deserve to forget. On that night the nightmares began, and they have yet to stop.

I awoke to the sounds of scuffling below. There I witnessed a group of travelers, bound in the coils of a great serpent. I leapt down, a roar on my lips, and struck the creature’s head a blow with my scabbard. The serpent and it’s coils went limp, depositing the group onto the dew-wet jungle floor. A woman with fiery hair and a smile on her lips, a young and brutish Mawla, and a Lir with obsidian-black fur.

They gave me gifts of a fine coat and other goods and welcomed me to accompany them. Being desperate for companionship, I accepted with little consideration. It would only be later, after we had become good friends, that I would discover their intentions. They confided in me they were a band of professional thieves and had plans to hijack a ship to escape their pursuers. They asked for my help, and I agreed. They had done so much for me, and in that moment I made a vow that I would never let a companion down again. I learned much from them in our travels, and a bit of sorcery from the Lir, Pel the Unseen. We were confident that the task would be an easy one.

It was not. Ann was first to climb to the deck of the ship, then it was my turn. The sea water, the rocking of the ship, and the strain on my one arm proved too much and I slipped, plummeting into the waters. The guards on deck leapt to life at the sound and within moments she was subdued. The waters hid us, and we never saw her again. People say that her lips still wore a smile as her head rolled from the executioner’s block, her skin stained a fiery red.

We washed up onto the nearby shore. They didn’t speak a word to me as they turned and disappeared into the forest. A weight like a club struck my chest. I fell to my knees and wept until I was numb, then I turned myself in. Years passed in prison, and the tortures I endured therein, I cannot repeat here. I was finally released, battered and broken. I have been wandering since. With every step my mind draws closer to the dagger I still keep at my side. With each step the thought of it’s bite seems sweeter. The once bright world around me has fallen to shadow; Meat and drink to ash, and I deserve it.

I still wander, looking for something.




Shades of Shadora pelwer Mora