POY, Student of Brigain

Current Status: Summer, 1331 Avard. Poy made it to Rakore and hooked up with the Prior of Brigain known as Storm. Together, the two have opened a temple to Brigain, the God of Prophecies, in Chasadan, Rakore. Poy acts as the chronicler for Storm, who is the priestess. They can oft-times be found together at the temple, or separately as one travels the region (and one stays at the temple).

Male (Vridaran) Human, 7th-Level Monk

Hit Points

16 (+3)
14 (+2)
14 (+2)
14 (+2)
15 (+2)
8 (-1)


Fortitude Save
Reflex Save
Will Save

Melee Attack:
Ranged Attacks:

M (5'3")


Armor Class
Flat-footed AC
Touch AC




Skills: Balance +7, Climb +7, Concentration +4, Escape Artist +4, Heal +3, Hide +8, Jump +8, Arcane Knowledge +3, Religious Knowledge +3, Listen +10, Move Silently +10, Profession (Herbalist) +4, Profession (Scribe) +8, Search +3, Spot +5, Swim +4, Tumble +7, and Use Rope +3.
Feats: Improved Initiative, Combat Reflexes, Dodge, [Improved Unarmed Strike], [Deflect Arrows], Expertise, [Improved Trip], and Karmic Strike.
Class Skills: Stun Attack, Evasion, Purity of Body, Slow Fall 20', Still Mind, Wholeness of Body, Leap of the Clouds.
Languages: Common, Vridaran.
Possessions: Usually wearing his monastery’s acolyte attire of auburn robes and low hood, Poy adorns this traditional look with the traveler’s style of boots, satchel, and more adventurer’s trappings than the average monk seen traveling throughout Gaeleth. The only weapons Poy carries are dual kama’s +3 and a quarterstaff (+2) that has lines of text etched artfully into it. He prefers to rely on his unarmed combat skills if thrown into a fray, using his quarterstaff more as a walking stick. Now, after recent adventures, he also wears a ring of protection +3, Bracers of Armor +2, a Monk’s Belt, and an ivory ring carved in the form a tyrannosaurus.

Appearance: Poy is a relatively unremarkable human male with shaved bald head, hazel eyes, and light skin. He is of medium build for a human, but a little large for his age. Not being the most handsome of humans and coupled with his social ineptness, sometimes alienates Poy from the typical crowd. Poy is first observed as a well-mannered but excitable young man, with an aura a destiny that seems to conflict with his erratic conduct.

Background: The Spring of 1311 Avard was a much welcomed and joyous occasion for the people of Amar. Before the trials of the War of the Undead, toward the end of Gaeleth’s 100 years of relative peace since the Third Crusade, people still engaged in the business of everyday life. Phaeras Raan was one of these, a struggling merchant in a new locality. He was displaying his wares at the Festival of Habrem in Jesin when fate struck him. A maiden working in a pavilion tavern who only beckoned to her patrons as Jemine blinded Phaeras with a charm and beauty he could not comprehend. After only two weeks in Jesin, Phaeras paid off the indentured debt owed by Jemine with the profits of his merchandise. That evening, beneath starlit sky, they were wed by a local druid.

With his investment capital now gone, and fearing an inability to provide for his new bride, Phaeras joined the local militia. The pay was better than he expected, due partly because Jesin had been gearing up for a defense against the encroaching goblin tribes. Phaeras’ bartering skills and innate abilities as an arbitrator, more than compensated for his lack of military experience. He found himself assigned as a personal aide to the garrison commander, where his duties were modest (compared to the alternative of drawing a blade). Though the good news of his position paled in comparison to what Jemine had to tell him. She was now with child.

Months passed and Phaeras learned the intricacies of command through administration. His commander, General Breckard, had grown to trust and even admire the young merchant’s skill and began to enlist his council in more sensitive matters; even in the machinations of his superiors. It would soon be Dasad...

Throughout his duties, neither mundane nor exhilarating, he eventually gleaned a disparaging conclusion from the reports he had just perused. Jesin would soon be under siege! General Breckard examined the findings of his unnerved subordinate and agreed with the deduction. The goblins were on the move and his garrisoned troops were ill-prepared for such an onslaught. The General sent out the last of his rangers to get word to the Vridarans and to plead for help if not merciful compassion. One day before the inevitable conflict, General Breckard handed Phaeras his council pendant and had him take leave of Jesin, in a hope that his unborn son would grow to avenge the fated city. But fate had contrived a much darker path for Phaeras and Jemine.

A blinding wall of snow and ice poured from the heavens. The small wagon that carried all the young couple owned lasted no more than two days into the journey toward the Mule mountains. Phaeras prayed, or pleaded, to Brigain nearly every mark for a release from the storm that swept down from the North. If they could only make it to the Mule mountains, they might find shelter from the apathetic god. Phaeras would be awakened during the night hearing the screams of those left behind in Jesin. But the reality of their fate was quickly sinking in as they trudged South. Were they luckier to die in the cold freeze of the Amaran plains or by the cold edges of goblinoids? Jemine seemed to grow weaker as their journey ensued. Their son was soon to enter this world of indifference and hardship.

On the 28th day of Dasad, 1311 Avard, the child of Phaeras and Jemine was born beneath a rock outcropping at the base of the Mule mountains. The infant’s mother died only days after his birth due her weakened state after childbearing compounded by the unusually harsh winter that year. Feeling destitute and unable to protect his now dead bride, much less care for a newborn, Phaeras left him within earshot of a monasterial outpost within the foothills of the Mule mountains. The impoverished and debilitated human wandered off into the snow.

The monk guarding the outpost was named Brother Gregor and was quick to respond to the crying child. Gregor called for his pupil to rush the child to safety and searched for the trail of the possible transgressor. After about half a mark Gregor finally tracked the deserter and approached only to find a man being eaten by a mountain wolf. The rushing monk’s movement being obscured by the barrage of winter, caught the hungry animal unawares until the quarterstaff struck the beast squarely on the crown. The wolf yowled and whimpered away but Gregor was too late to save the wretched man. Suspecting this corpse to be the father of the abandoned babe, he investigated in hopes of discovering an identity. Brother Gregor removed the council pendant from the frozen grasp of the lifeless figure and hurried back to the monastery.

The notion of fate is a truly fascinating and yet troublesome perspective. Matters of consequence and reaction versus logic and statistical probabilities can truly drive a man to vice at best and dementia at worst. And if this man would stake his life upon this destiny, then a priest of Brigain he could become, else a smoldering mound of ash. If this man would simply accept destiny as versatile, then this man would be a monk.

Poy had actualized humility and focus. He learned these things from Brother Gregor and Brother Marsis. Poy studied balance and control. These were taught to him by Brother Resille and Father Huateaus. Now, at fifteen cycles, Poy was finally completing the Third Circle of Destiny, that of physical prowess and strength. The perfect harmony of the first two Circles encompassing the Third Circle was difficult for Poy to grasp at first. That could explain why he was nearly a full year behind his peers. The fate of Devon is a major tenant of focus for this monastery. Preservation of the prophecy of the Princess Sword is also a key. Could all this knowledge converge to but a single prophecy, a multitude of circumstances culminating into an all encompassing phenomenon? He pushed all this to the back of his mind so he could focus, his final Test of Fate was nearing and he could hardly wait. The answers must be found beyond... But beyond...what?

After Maroth rise, supper was completed and his chores were done, Poy would sometimes meet with his contemporaries near the High Wall in the southeast corner of the monastery and tonight was no exception. His comrades would collect in the one corner that the Higher Brethren could not observe from any of their many accommodations throughout the fortress. The reason for this is quite simply to show off; an informal contest split between skilled accomplishments and narcissism. A monk is a proficient and disciplined combatant, but these are also boys.

The rousing usually began after about fifteen of the boys showed up. All of them had their chores to do after evening mealtime, everything from mopping the dining hall to cleansing the waste water troughs. Being one of the more senior students (and one of the stronger), Poy usually doesn’t get picked on too much, but this night was different. As soon as he arrived, the others started in on him. At first it was just subtle, good-natured ribbing. But after a few of the other boys completed any dares or tests of strength already engaged when Poy approached, they turned their attention toward Poy. He easily deflected some insults, avoided some abuses, and even returned a few teasing punches, but then it started turning belligerent.

The other boys started saying that Poy was afraid of the outside world, that he failed the Third Circle last cycle because he was scared. They started punching harder and harder until Poy began to feel threatened. His reflexes and training kicked in and he began to throw his newly discovered opponents, even enemies, to the side. A glancing blow, a hardened fist, a lightning kick, then suddenly, a broken nose. The other boys began shouting and strengthening their blows with the force of kiai, then destiny prevailed! Brother Gregor came running around the corner with two other brethren to inquire about the disturbance. After breaking up the competition turned brawl, Brother Gregor took Poy aside, straightened his nose with a crack, and spoke with the disheartened young boy about his actions. A mark or so had passed and before they both retired to their quarters, Brother Gregor said to him the most profound words Poy had ever heard... “Shall the being formed say to that which formed it, why have you made me thus? Poy, you have not chosen this life, this life has chosen you.”

With Brother Gregor’s wisdom to follow, the Third Circle of Destiny is now completed, and Poy has charged upon himself the task of expanding his knowledge, experience, and destiny. If this life has truly chosen him to accomplish a fate predetermined by Brigain, then his ultimate quest must be to discover the truth about the fate of Devon, the fate of the Princess Sword, and in doing these things, the fate of Gaeleth could also be revealed.

Roleplaying Notes: Young Poy is still a young man, with the traditional hang-ups of youth, from beautiful women to legend-worship. On the other hand, he is far more mature than his years would suggest, seeking to learn and grow, expanding his world-view in subsumation to his task: fulfilling the prophecies of Brigain. By no means overconfident, he is still learning his own strength, and his own power -- but his faith in himself is unshakeable, and his faith in his knowledge and teaching (particularly the Third Circle) has made him indominable.

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