Lonael Whiteflame - Barbarian

[Ji]

Name: Lonael Whiteflame
Race: Catfolk
Class: Barbarian (Invulnerable Rager)

Str: 16 +3
Dex: 16 +3
Con: 14 +2
Int: 10 +0
Wis: 08 -1
Cha: 12 +1

HP:   27/27
AC:   17
Rage Rounds: 8/8
Fort: +6 (8 if Rage)
Ref:  +3
Will: -1 (1 if Rage)

Earthbreaker:  +6 to hit (+8 if rage), 2d6+4  (+7 if rage)
Chakram :      +5 to hit (+7 if rage), 1d8+3  (+5 if rage)
Bite (alone):  +5 to hit (+7 if rage), 1d4+4  (+7 if rage)
Bite (W/weapon:+0 to hit (+2 if rage), 1d4+1  (+2 if rage)
Speed: 40ft


Skill:

Acrobatics         +8
Profession (Chef!) +4
Intimidate         +5
Climb              +7 (9 if raging)
Swim               +7 (9 if raging)
Diplomacy          +8
Bluff              +3/4 if fooling someone
Sense Motive       +1


Class features:

Rage: +4 to str and con, -2 to AC, +2 to will Rounds per day: 8, Fatigued for a number of rounds equal to twice turns spent raging.
Fast movement: +10 movement
Invulnerability: Always have Dr/- equal to 1/2 barbarian level.

Rage powers:

Animal Fury: Grow a 1d4+str damage natural bite attack while raging.



Racial features:

Scent
Cat's Luck: Once per day, roll a reflex save twice and use better result, must be declared before rolling.
Sprinter: Gain +10 to speed when charging, withdrawing, or running
Clever Cat: Gain +2 to Diplomacy, Bluff, and Sense Motive


Equipment: Masterwork Earthbreaker, Masterwork Chainshirt (w/gauntlets), 12 chakrams, barbarian's kit, barbed vest, gear maintinance kit, 2 Journal, Ink, inkpen, 2 iron spikes, 3 different Perfumes, rope,
sledge, wire, Soldier's Uniform, disguise kit, pocketed Scarf, masterwork backpack, softpaw boots, weapon cord, hooded underwater lantern, grooming kit, 2 pints oil, scrivener's kit,
1 unit string, human mask, wig, silent whistle, signal whistle, wine, 5 travel biscuit mix, cooking kit, 29gp 9cp

Feats:

Power attack: Gain +2 to damage in exchange for -1 to hit on melee attacks.
Cleave!


Backstory:

Lonael was born somewhat unceremoniously 19 years ago to a tribe of somewhat less than friendly catfolk. Operating much as one expects from orcish tribes, the catfolk were outwardly hostile to foreigners, and often raided nearby settlements when they passed by during their semi-nomadic lifestyle. Lonael lived with both her parents until she was four years old, and her father vanished into the night. Her mother did not mourn his leaving, but increasingly had a hard time doing her job while raising a child. When Lonael was seven, her mother could no longer manage and gave Lonael away to the tribal shaman as an apprentice, if only so he could take care of her. Being too young to learn any tribal magic, she was mostly used for the physical labor the shaman didn't want to do. Still it was a life, and she still saw her mother on occasion. It wasn't until one day in the middle of summer during her twelfth year, that her life was forever altered.

Armed men in uniforms strolled into her home from all sides, slaughtering man, woman, and child, and setting fire to all that they passed. Lonael chose to cower inside the shaman's hut with the shaman, whom she'd hoped would protect her from the invaders. The shaman instead seemed oddly preoccupied with finishing a project he'd been working on for the past month, rushing where he had previously been careful. Two men had broken off from the main group and had headed over there way, when the shaman expressed excitement and thrust Lonael into the middle of the intricate magical designs he'd been making, and in a swift motion, stabbed her in the side.

Lonael blacked out at that moment, coming to what she assumed was only a few minutes later. At her feet, there was a dwarf, his body horrible mauled, and before her, an elf whose neck was presently being crushed in her teeth. Shocked and frightened at whatever had just transpired, and her own clothes bloodstained and shredded, she scavenged what she could from the two men's bodies, and ran off into the night with only the direction of "away from the fire" to guide her.

Lonael wandered the world alone for the rest of the year, having picked up what could only be called a voice in her head. It growled, it roared, and it made sounds, but it rarely if ever made any intelligent attempts at communication, even in the nightmares it often granted her.

It was not until winter, after a somewhat heavy snowfall, that Lonael was starving and in dire need of help or fortune. She knew not how to survive on her own, and had made no preparations to endure the unusually harsh winter that year. Strong of nose however, she started to smell something she’d not for several months… fresh cooked meat.  Of course the meat had a guardian, a birdman with a bow… Loneal’d no time for understanding the potential implications as she walked into the camp and towards the fire. She couldn't take the meat… but it was still so cold here, surely she could take some of the fire’s warmth from the man whom she could not understand.

While she could not really speak his language, she knew some small phrases in common, and eventually it seemed he’d asked her to come with him. Seeing no other option to survive the winter, and having longed for some form of companionship since the potential death of everyone she knew, she accepted. When he packed up camp the next day and headed onward, she would follow.

It had been seven years since that point, and with what education who she would soon learn to call Jirou could give her, she soon learned common. She is still to this day blighted by the madness that lurks in her mind, but that was no reason to stop then, nor reason to stop now.