the mindflayer ecl would of been higher as well as you didn’t factor racial hit dice in.
I could allow you to use orcs or hobgoblins for your race, the world I’m basing this in has for the most part chased them far north into exile past a large mountain range guarded by the dwarves. Neither race would really be welcome in the world but you if you have a decent reason for not living in the barbaric lands with the other orcs or goblinoids than your character should be fine.
Name: Dainslaif (Dain, for short)
Player: Arac
Class: Barbarian: 2 (3)
Race: Hobgoblin
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Size: Medium
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Height: 2.0 meters
Weight: 75 kilograms
Eye Colour: Black
Hair: Blood Red, in a single long braid most of the way down back.
Skin: Dark Grey
Abilties:
Str: 18/+4
Dex: 18/+4 (rolled 16)
Con: 20/+5 (rolled 18)
Int: 11/+0
Wis: 10/+0
Cha: 16/+3
HP: 34
AC: 20
Touch AC: 14
Flat-Footed AC: 16
Saving Throws:
Fortitude: 7
Reflex: 4
Will: 0
Initiative: +4
Base Attack Bonus : +2
Attack Bonus: +6
Grapple: +6
Skills:
Climb: 4
Handle Animal: 4
Jump: 4
Ride: 4
Feats:
Exotic Weapon Proficiency
Equipment:
Chain Shirt +1 (1,100 gp)
Heavy Warhorse (400 gp)
Military Saddle (20 gp)
Masterwork Bastard Sword (+335 gold)
Wooden Heave Shield (7 gp)
438 Gp
Bio:
Dainslaif’s tribe of Hobgoblins were unhappy, in a wondrous understatement, at their ‘captivitiy’ in the northern mountains. The only reasons they abided the cold and biting wind as long as they did was to prepare for their escape.
In one of the largest battles the mountains had ever seen, the tribe, about a hundred hobgoblin, along with another century of goblins, stormed down a narrow mountain pass, the only one near it; unflankable. They realized their only way to escape would be to hold the pass until the humans could not longer afford to stop all of them. They put their three most powerful warriors in front, blocking off the pass, and the next three behind them, alternating when they grew tired. They lasted almost a month, before the humans paid an adventurer to fight them back. The wizard cut through them with fireballs in a matter of moments, took his gold, and left the humans to their work.
After the all out battle had begun, hopeless Hobgoblins fighting against arrogant humans, all of the tribe’s warriors and shamans were dead, only a few of the women and children in the pass remaining. However, the humans had paid quite a price, too. On the uncharacteristically huen snow, there were three of them for each hobgoblin, sprawled and mangled. In a bloodlust, the warriors began to mercilessly slay the women and children.
However, a local nobleman, a former bard, convinced them to save one of the children he found ‘adorable’ and wanted to keep as a ‘pet.’ The particular child was a smiling, almost black-skinned hobgoblin, with a scarlet birthmark covering a large portion of his right hand.
The child, yet unnamed by his people, was lifted and loaded into an apple crate on the back of the bard’s carriage, and the toddler was happy enough to eat the sweet fruit for a while, but once it ran out, long before the carriage had reached the villiage, the infant, with the natural stamina of its race, force its way, through repeated slammings, out of it’s crate. Over the din of his singing and horses hooves, the poor, lonely, nobleman heard nothing as his pet slipped away into the snowstorm.
Cherazael, a tiefling Ranger, had always wanted a son, but, upon seeing his demonic features, no woman would bear him one, despite his hatred of his own people. Seeing a freezing Hobgoblin child, the ancient ranger decided it was his time to raise a son after all. He was able to teach the child many traits for living in the wild, but few of the ranger’s disciplines. Quickly, he realized this creature had a different calling, and began to teach the Hobgoblin what he could of the barbarian’s arts, mostly combat with the Bastard Sword.
When the child he had named Dainslaif reached maturity, Cherazael died peacefully in the night, his dream completed, free of the shackles of a world that hated him. For the next five years, Dainslaif lived in the woods alone, until the wild horse Cherazael had tamed for him died of old age. Feeling the bite of loneliness, Dainslaif began trudging towards the pillars of smoke that his mentor had explained were cities, civilization.
After he arrived at the city, spending some of the Half-Fiend’s gold on a tall, black, warhorse, he found himself suddenly lacking in direction and purpose, a feeling he didn’t like. He wanted to be a part of something. Electing, in an uncharacteristically thought-out decision (perhaps it was instinct) to begin small, he mounted his horse, riding for the capital city, seeking to fulfill an advertisement he’d seen nailed to the window of an abandoned tavern, he left to end a scourge of rats.
Upon reachign the capital, the naive innocence of the backwater town was gone. He was spit on, insulted, and one had a stone thrown at him by a small boy. He smiled at the insults, honestly now knowing what they meant, and frowned at the rocks, rather than scowled. He didn’t seem very frightening, after that.
However, one he entered, unhindered, the guard hall, presenting the add, he was treated with a grudging respect. They assumed that guards had sent him on a death mission, as did the guards.
Dainslaif’s instincts picked up on this, he may not be too bright, but he wasn’t a fool, and he smiled, determined he’d show them he was worth something.
Usually a gentle giant, Dainslaif doesn’t fight unless he has to, but then he fights with all he has. He loves animals and small children, and hates to see any harm come to either. He has little respect or understanding for laws, and will give absolutely anyone a second chance. Very friendly, not so bright, not so wise. Quite likable if one can look past his race.
Just a Reminder that tommorrow we will in fact play my game.
Provided your players still remember you exist, and didn’t all go and get jobs.
You’re lucky I’m too young to get a worthwhile job legally. =P