Filch :: (Read-Only) - Myth-Weavers

Character Name			Player Name		Race	Class
Religion		Homeland		Patron		Alignment	Reaction Adj.
Sex	Age	Height	Weight	Hair	Eyes	Experience gained	Experience needed

Strength


Hit Probability	Damage Adj.	Weight Allowance	Max Press	Open Doors	Bend Bars/Lift Gates

Dexterity

Missile attack Adj


Reaction Adj	Defense Adj

Constitution


HP adj>	System Shock	Ressurection Survival	Poison save	Regeneration

Intelligence


Number of languages	Max Spell Level	Learn Spell	Max Spells/level	Spell Immunity

Wisdom


Magical Def. Adjustment	Bonus Spells		Spell Failure	Spell Immunity

Charisma


Max. number of Henchmen	Loyalty Base	Reaction Adjustment

Saves
Target	Modifier
Paralyze/ Poison

Rod, Stave or Wand

Petrify/ Polymorph

Breath Weapon

Spell

Base Movement

Light Enc. Movement

Moderate Enc. Movement

Heavy Enc. Movement

Severe Enc. Movement

Jog (x2)

Run (x3)

Run (x4)

Weapon Combat
Weapon	#Attacks	Attack Adj.	Damage Adj.	THAC0	Damage SM	Damage L	Range	Weight	Size	Type	Speed

Special Abilities and Attacks	Proficiencies Skills and Languages	Memorized Spells	Gear

Currency

19 gp
37 sp
9 cp

Description

Filch is filthy.  Several years spent rooting through tombs and digging through grave dirt have left him with a lack of care in his appearance.  He is tall for his race but gaunt, with long fingers on thin hands.  His hair is matted and long and thin whiskers have begun to sprout from his chin.  His arms and equipment are well worn.

Personality

The halflings are a cheery race but even they have their outcasts.  Filch is sour and suspicious of disposition, a lifetime of being treated like a wounded cur has left him with a melancholy and a slow anger.  His only excitement comes from a clever challenge and the payment it gives.

Statistic Block

Condition and Effects	Additional Information

Filch was born to a scavenger of a mother and a thief of a father on the Wild Coast.  Halflings had to be clever and quick to merely survive in the south Wild Coast and though they banded together existence proved a challenge.

His father was killed by cruel guardsmen when he was young and his mother was inattentive or absent, leaving her brood to raise themselves.  Filch found himself doing what he could and the commonly held belief in the cheeriness and generosity of halflings was absent in him.  He was treated as a plaything at best by the bigger folk and was beat outright and near tortured at the worst.

Eventually he fell in with Mother Berta, a fat human conwoman and her simple and large son, Otto.  The nimble fingers of the halfling were well suited to working with the shrewd mind of Berta and the brute strength of her son.  Men are ever sentimental about death, burying with those passed all manner of treasures simple and fine.  There were even those who might pay for the corpses themselves for some nefarious end.

The trio did not ask questions and went about their work with some success.  There were close calls, sure, but by and large cemetaries were dark, quiet, and desolate.  Why steal from the living when stealing from the dead proved so much simpler?

But the dead do not always rest quietly.  Perhaps it was a matter of time but the trio eventually intruded upon a tomb most unquiet.  Some ghostly terror from nightmare inhabited the crypt, seeming to consume the souls of Berta and Otto.  The halfling somehow proved resilient, shrieking with terror as he was able to shake the fear.  Still, he ran and ran until his thin legs collapsed.

Since then he has wandered, stealing what he must to survive.  Through the Gnarley Forest and west he came to the plains of Veluna, stopping by villages along his path, stealing from the dead and living alike.