He who paints in streaks of Blood CR 9 - Chris Dailey
Male halfling slayer 10
NE Small humanoid (halfling)
Init +3; Senses Perception +17
===== Defense =====
AC 20, touch 15, flat-footed 15 (+4 armor, +3 Dex, +1 dodge, +1 natural, +1 size)
hp 60 (10d10+10);
Fort +9, Ref +9, Will +5; +2 vs. fear
===== Offense =====
Speed 20 ft.
Melee +1 stone club +15/+10 (1d4+4)
Ranged javelin +14/+9 (1d4+3)
Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft.
Special Attacks sneak attack +3d6, studied target +3
===== Tactics =====
Before Combat He uses stealth, camouflage, and acrobatics to stalk his prey from the canopy, studying them while waiting for the perfect moment to throw a javelin and inflict sneak attack damage. Before attacking he drinks a jump potion.
During Combat He jumps from branch to branch, staying out of reach and using the trees for cover. He uses studied target to increase his damage and relentlessly pelts his foes with javelins. Whenever possible he will use the fog to hide, reappearing the next turn for a vicious sneak attack.
Morale If reduced to 20 hit points he will attempt to stealth away and escape. If cornered he will feign surrender to draw his foes close and lash out at the last moment. Failing that, he will go down fighting, attempting out of spite to do as much damage as possible.
===== Statistics =====
Str 16, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 10
Base Atk +10/+5; CMB +12; CMD 25
Feats Dodge, Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Quick Draw
Skills Acrobatics +23 (+5 on narrow surfaces), Bluff +13, Climb +18, Perception +17, Stealth +20, Survival +15 (+5 to follow tacks)
Languages Broken common
SQ favored terrain (forest), slayer talents (camouflage, fast stealth, snap shot, sure footing, terrain mastery)
Combat Gear 30 javelins, +1 stone club, 2 potions of jump; Other Gear +1 studded leather, belt of giant strength +2, boots of elvenkind, cloak of resistance +1, amulet of natural armor +1, 650 gp worth of uncut rubies
===== Special Abilities =====
Sporewood acclimation (Ex) Halflings of the Sporewood have acclimated to its environment over generations. They ignore both the concealment and penalties to perception inflected by its spores. They are also immune to its mind-affecting properties.
===== Background =====
Isolation has left the halflings of the Sporewood with a unique conception of names. To them names are not a static familial inheritance but a shifting identity that changes over time. In practice most hold names derived from their most significant deed or attribute. . . . He Who Dances Like Summer Wind, She Who Hunts Brazen & Bold. Among the many names that echo in the wood, one stands out like raging thunder in a sea of quiet whispers, He Who Paints in Streaks of Blood.
He Who Paints in Streaks of Blood is tall and stout for a halfling. He has high cheekbones and long, matted hair that flows down to the ground in yellow rivulets. His green eyes are unfocused and hungry, like a wild beast unchecked by any pretense of empathy or self control. In his heart he harbors an animalistic lust for power, a simplistic desire to exert dominance at any expense.
There was a time when many vile souls competed for supremacy in the Sporewood. Reavers, chieftains, and petty warlords, he lured them all with honeyed lies to the center of the forest where the greatest of monoliths holds court amongst the trees. The monoliths are sacred to the inhabitants of the wood; by ancient law no blood may be shed in their sight. Sparing no thought for trust or tradition, he descended upon his assembled rivals. With spear and club he danced amongst them, composing a symphony of violence with each step and spraying their blood in great glopping streaks.
When the slaughter was over, he stood under the great monolith, unopposed as lord of the wood. As if in recognition of his murderous ascension, the monolith began to hum and pulse with fetid light. Fueled by the blood of his fallen rivals, its power swelled. A swirling wind of spores raged out in every direction, storming through the wood and into the world beyond. Come the morning the forest had grown. Miles of new trees stood tall where before there were open fields. The new lord of the wood knew what to do. The forest was hungry and so was he. He would feed the monoliths and in so doing grow his nascent realm. All he needed was blood.