Clayborn Physiok

Urchin, Sailor, Big Game Hunter

Description:

Level 2 Human Ranger

Stats 13/16/9/16/14/11

(base rolls 13/14/8/16/14/11, +1 to Dex and Con from Human variant, +1 to Dex from Prodigy Feat)

HP 14

AC 14

Leather Armor, Longbow, 2 Shortswords, Quiver of +1 Whistling Arrows

Fighting Style: Archery +2 attack with Ranged Weapons

Spells (2 1st level slots, 2 known): Hunter’s Mark, Goodberry

Urchin: Party travels 2x through cities

Natural Explorer: Advantage on initiative and first round attacks against enemies yet to act; while traveling, party ignores difficult terrain, forages double, remains alert, doesn’t get lost, can track while moving; if traveling alone, full speed Stealth

Proficient Prodigy: 7 skills (including Nature, Perception, Stealth, Survival), 4 languages (Common, Elven, Dwarven, Merfolk), 3 tools (Disguise Kit, Thieves’ Tools, Water Vehicles)

Bio:

I have no memories of my mother. She was most likely a refugee from Sanam hoping to reach the Theocracy like countless others who wound up stuck in Candu with nothing and no one. I was most likely the product of desperate business of the night done to feed herself. Whether she found a better life without me after leaving me in the streets as a toddler or, more likely, suffered a worse fate, I don’t know.

I have been taking care of myself since. First, by hiding in the alleys in the day, waiting to sneak out and steal food from the garbage of stores and wealthy homes by night. This led to my first bout with plague. My growth was stunted. I was weak, but survived. When I was old enough to form sentences, I learned to beg by day, but that only worked until adolescence when the sympathy stopped and, even so, required dodging thieves ready to take my day’s offerings at dusk.

As a teen, I learned to ignore material things as defending or acquiring them only led to violence. I fed myself by spearfishing past the docks of the port, carving my own spears from found and discarded wood. This led to my second bout of plague. I was gaunt from the illness, but survived. I did not know then that the people of city had befouled the fish in their port with reckless waste.

While out fishing as a young man, still suffering from the unnatural pestilence of the water, I was spotted by the crew of the Hunting Ship Narwhal, a sleek black vessel suitable for racing by nobles, but crewed by a rag-tag band of thrill-seekers. They explained that they made their way from port to port, ocean to ocean, protecting sea life and sailors from the deep sea monstrosities that had emerged since the Apotheosis. And they needed a new lookout. Despite my illness, I climbed aboard before they finished explaining and raced up the main mast to the crow’s nest.

For five years I sailed and trained with them, cleaning the decks, learning the ropes, moving with the winds. The sea air cleared up my illness over time, with each year growing stronger. I was almost fully recovered the day we stopped at port and they informed me that despite my progress, they could not take me on their next mission as it was too dangerous for someone of my relative inexperience. They gave me the first name I’d ever had aside from “sickly orphan boy,” enough gold for passage by ship to any of the safe lands, and the Scrimshaw Sailing Ship I carry in my pouch to help me find them again someday.

Then they departed as quickly as if we’d never met. Far-traveling big game hunters are not known for their sentimentality. I boarded passage on a ship the next day to start a new life and, hopefully, grow strong enough to hunt the biggest game in the seas, with or without my friends on the Narwhal. But the second ship I ever boarded was my first shipwreck.

From the survivors of that ship my new pack was born. One of them, a shape-shifter from across the oceans, has begun to teach me nature magic. Now, we need a new ship. We have many journeys ahead.

Clayborn Physiok

No Man's Land Stephen_Scholz Muy