a scout assigned to complement the activities of slayers
Level 7 Human Scout
Speed 40 ft
Dex 16 (18 with gloves of dexterity)
AC 17 (19 if skirmish)
Touch 13 (15 if skirmish)
Flat-footed X (uncanny dodge)
Base Attack 5
Shortsword, 7 (19-20/x2 1d6+1, piercing, master-crafted)
Longspear, 7 (20/x3 1d8+1, piercing, master-crafted)
Composite Longbow 11 (20/x3 1d8+3+1d6, piercing, range 110ft., strength-rating 1, master-crafted, 2 enhancement, flaming)
Craft (Bowmaking/fletching) 11
Disable Device 1
Escape Artist 4
Gather Information 0
Handle Animal 0
Knowledge (Nature) 13
Move Silently 9
Ride 11 (13 for checks related to staying in the saddle)
Sense Motive 3
Use Rope 6
Feats: Martial Weapon Proficiency (composite longbow), Mounted Combat, Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot
Special Abilities: Skirmish, Trapfinding, Battle Fortitude, Uncanny Dodge, trackless step, evasion, flawless stride
Equipment: master-crafted studded leather armor (light, AC bonus +3, Max Dex +5, Check Penalty 0, max speed 40 ft. Weight 20 lb.) Heward’s Handy Haversack, Bedroll, Grappling Hook, Flint and Steel, waterskin, whetstone, torches x2, rope (hempen, 50ft.) crowbar, backpacks x2, tent, sleeping potions x5, arctic gear, cure light wounds x2, bat-leather bracer
Languages: Common, Sylvan
Background: He was born and raised in the Citadel and has never personally known any other culture. In this regard, he’s rather “normal.”
Role: Parolles is typically a scout, but sometimes the hierarchy sends him on missions with the slayers. Someone in the hierarchy may have a deathwish for him, but they justify it with the argument that Scouts and Slayers should learn from each other.
Interests: Reading what he can about nature, geography, history, and economics.
Craft skills: fletching/bowmaking.
Response to the Shem Grevhton’s invasion of the Citadel: When the alarm was sounded, Parolles was quietly perusing those parts of the archives accessible to the general public. He ran up to his quarters to don his armor and assemble his equipment. As he neared closer to the fighting, he realized that it was a hopeless cause: the invasion was an inside job, an inevitability for which no one could prepare. Stealthily, he retreated to the crafter’s circle of the Citadel to find the workshop of [Priscus Primoris]. Parolles’ best chance of escape was through the secret tunnel that Priscus had been digging to Savatenye. He had offered some topographical advice and reconnaissance to the crafter, with whom he had performed a few missions, to help him construct the ventilation shafts discretely. Parolles also had not said a word of Priscus’ tunnel to anyone. Maybe just because he wanted to go to Svatenye.
But the door to Priscus’ workshop was locked and no one would answer. Parolles stood, stupefied at the thought of no escape, but then he realized there were ventilation shafts linking all of the crafter’s workshops. He clambered up into one, and, after coating himself thoroughly with soot and inhaling some of it, he fell suddenly, about 20ft, into the middle of Priscus’ workshop. His quick reflexes cushioned the fall, but a sprained ankle was inevitable. He was immediately greeted by an indifferent mechanical hydra, which neither attacked him nor would obey his commands. Parolles began to search the workshop and the adjoining study for an entrance to Priscus’ tunnel, but clearly its designer had hidden it extremely well. All Parolles could tell was that some of the packed dirt which formed the floor of the workshop was not from near the Citadel.
After dodging booby trap after booby trap without any progress to show for it, Parolles was about to give up on his search through Priscus’ written records for the secrets of his tunnel. The safe in the study required a key but there was no key to be found. Some of the books would try to light themselves and the reader on fire if Parolles tried to read them. But then, he had an idea: there were two adamantium arrows sitting on a workbench. They were exact copies, but one was medium while the other was colossal. Parolles had no knowledge of magic, but he deduced that something was afoot. He picked up the medium-sized arrow, drew it on his bow, and aimed it at the safe. As it flew through the air, it suddenly became colossal, stricking the safe with a tremendous blow and then shattered into splinters of wood. The desk and chair were overturned; the bookshelf was thrown across the room. All that remained was a massive adamantium arrowhead, a battered safe, and a small divot in the stone wall, from which protruded a small widget of forged iron.
In the safe, which Parolles opened from afar using a longspear (which was destroyed by the trap in that one, too), he found some logs and schematics related to Priscus’ construction. The tunnel clearly began somewhere inside his workshop at an elevation about 200 ft below the surface… but where? It wasn’t clear.
Parolles inspected the damage he had done to the wall behind the safe. What was that piece of metal? Something seemed suspicious, since no metal (precious as it was in the making of armor and weapons) was wasted in fortifying underground walls. As Parolles returned to the workshop to gather more ideas, he careless bumped his head into a metal hook dangling from the ceiling…