Fighter

Level 2 Fighter: Ichabod (Event Special Alpha)

Humanoid, Harpy, Fey, Monster, Royalty Explicit

40/200

Attributes: Strength 15 Dexterity 18 Constitution 14 Intelligence 15 Wisdom 14 Charisma 12

Health: 16 AC: 14 Speed: 35

Skills: Acrobatics +6

Arcana +4

Insight +4

Nature +4

Perception +4

Feats: Monstrous Appearance – when attempting to use Charisma in a positive way on creatures without the Monster subtype, count it as 4 points lower until the target gets used to you.

Natural Weapons – You are in possession of a set of Natural Weapons. You are immune to Disarm attacks.

Wings – Your Wings allow for flight up to double your movement speed

Fighting Style Dueling- When you are wielding a melee weapon in one hand and no other weapons, you gain a +2 bonus to damage with that weapon

Second Wind- You have a limited well of stamina that you can draw on to protect yourself from harm. On your turn, you can regain hit points equal to 8+ your current level. Once you use this feature, you must finish a short or long rest before you can use it again

Action Surge- You can push yourself beyond your normal limits for a moment. You can take one additional action. Once you use this feature, you must finish a short or long rest before you can use it again

Royal Blood- Monsters nearby sometimes answer the call of your royal line 0/10 once bonded to you by a sacred oath they share some of your experience and do more damage in battle

With this newfound power you have chosen to take a fighter’s route hoping to fill out more and gain some muscle to go along with your brain power. As this flash of light shifts the world around you yet again you succumb to the darkness that seems to take your vision away more and more as of late. When you wake you are still on the same bed roll from last night and a small loaf of bread is sitting next to your head, with a note placed firmly below it. As you look around the fire has died, and it appears as if Vanessa packed up camp and took off in the night. Leaving you with a new bedroll, you can only assume that this one was Adams before his untimely demise at the hands of a giant pine. The backpack you claimed from him with all your treasure still there, and the loaf of bread with the note. Picking up the loaf of bread and taking a large bite out of it you parous the note left behind the sum of it is she left and wanted to thank you for giving her directions out of the forest. You don’t know why but you feel kind of sad you didn’t get to say goodbye to the woman who almost killed you, help set the wing she broke, and jilled off in front of you twice. But that is the life you suppose… Anyway, with the wing still in need of healing its best to walk back to your home from here though how long that will take you have no idea, you don’t really remember how far you flew before yesterday’s events stole your attention back from the exhilaration that flying always gives. So, you pack up your meager belongings on your back tying the new bedroll to the top of the backpack and head off on the trail that leads to your home.

You walk in peace for most of the day down the path only occasionally hitting your toes against the misplaced cobbles that once dominated the road, the lush green forest all around you. Tall pines that you love to soar above stretching their hands into the clear morning sky, birds and squirrels chitter and chat back in forth all around. Then one of the most horrid sounds ever to interrupt the forest echoes out, a long sharp BEE-OOP followed by a disheartening chorus of disappointment. The sun is now just past its apex in the long journey to the distant horizon, hearing these sounds you try hard to fade into the background of the forest shadows, but the sun is again conspiring with all the possible enemies in the world, as soon a voice pierces through the trees addressing you.

“Hey, you with the wings. Yeh you is biggest thing we see. You build sprite huts, please?” The voice is sharp and fast, hard to understand. As a small creature comes zooming towards you like a little pink ball of light. This sprite is about 8 inches tall with short spiky pink hair and a tiny blue dress that covers down to about mid-thigh on her diminutive frame.

“Umm I can’t build anything, it isn’t one of my talents...” you try to brush past, but she zooms in front of you, placing her hands out front to stop you. Her little legs stamp the air much like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum.

“Big Harpy man make BEE-OOP stop and build us huts!” You feel as if she is ordering you to do this.

“My name is Ichabod, not big harpy man. And I’m sorry but I can’t help you I am traveling to my own home.” Hearing how small her voice sounds doesn’t reassure you that she is alone though you can’t see any other little balls of light, the collective sigh of frustration sounded like there are more nearby.

“Ichabod…. Yes is good nameses, Ichabod helps us please?” Turning her tone and now dripping with honeyed words, she switches tact just as fast as she flies. If you knew for sure what to do maybe you could help this small creature to build a hut, it may be faster to give in to her and be on your way you think as she zooms closer pressing her chest against the fabric of your leg.

“You are trying to seduce me into helping? There is no way that will work little one, but good try.” You say but it is hard for you to put enough emotion behind the words, she can clearly tell as she rubs her small frame on you a little more forcefully.

“Ichabod strong harpy, helpful friends to sprites.” She purrs

Well, honestly what is the worst that happens? You think to yourself as blood begins to rush to your nether regions. The fastest way out of this is to try to help them, then continue the still long walk home. And if there is a chance that this small creature would bring pleasure to you for your assistance surely that has nothing to do with this decision. After all she is smaller than your cock when fully engorged. You nod slowly and tip your head in the direction she came flying from.

“Well, no promises but I can take a look to see what the problem is, maybe I could help…” She smiles knowingly and zips off into the trees.

Following along behind the tiny ball of pink energy as best you can you enter what looks to be a raspberry patch stretching for about 30 ft in length and maybe another 10 ft wide, in the center grows a lone Willow tree with a small stream flowing at its base and parallel to the fruit patch. Buzzing around the clearing are probably 10 other little balls of energy, one green and one blue fly in the lowest branches of the towering Willow with tiny hammers in their hands, one of the builders sees some words and touches one, a small green bar appears above the area. It slowly fills with each successive strike of their tiny hammers but as it gets to the end that awful noise sounds out BEE-OOP and there is more disappointed sighing. Along with the sound there are some floating words.

(Area Not Claimed, Requires Claimant Crystal)

“Now what is a Claimant Crystal?” you ask aloud as the strange words float up into the sky and disappear.

“BEE-OOP, me hates a sound like that, must fix harpy Ichabod.” The little pink sprite pouts her lips and stamps again.

“I don’t know what it means though… I have never heard of this before. Do you little sprites have one?” looking around all the little glowing dots around the tree remind you of the winter festival you once watched in the village to the south. That is before the players spotted you and used you for an archery target. Pulling you out of your brief memory flash as a single golden light hover down from the top of the willow, all the other little pixies land on a branch and kneel as this one comes down. You hear the soft murmur of the crowd “mother willow” and then die out so only silence greets you as this royal figure goes from a bright golden glow to dull yellow shine. She has long flowing brown hair, and a regal gown of opaque green, hiding nothing from the imagination. Her hair is covered in golden laurels, and vibrant picked wildflowers. She stands all of ten inches tall but you feel as if you are the small one when her gaze settles upon you.

And you remain standing there your mouth slightly agape as her image is revealed before a sharp hiss and a searing pain as if a hot needle begins at the back of you knee. Your leg then buckles, and you stare at the little pink pixie who now wields a small sword with a single drop of blood at the very point, she stabbed me you have time to think before the melodious voice of the willow drags your attention away.

“Who brings danger to the grove? Why haven’t we killed the intruder and rebuilt the huts?” Her voice is sharp and fast just like the others but at the same time demanding respect and obedience. In other words, she speaks as if she was as royal as her clothes deem her to be, and the kneeling almost groveling host of pixies appear to think her.

“It’s a me mother, I brings Ichabod friend harpy to help with BEE-OOP and huts.” Pink stands and tells the queen, though when she looks up almost immediately drops her eyes again.

“Well, “Friend” Ichabod what does this BEE-OOP say and how are you going to fix it, think carefully about your next words as your life does depend on them. As well as Tulips…” She leaves the threat there in plain view, even your relatively slow mind registers the danger here. So much for it being faster to help and continue.