Men are naturally barbarians, and that will remain forever. The passion, the love, and the lust is intensifying with time. - Fawad Khan
+2 STR, +1 CHA
Poison Breath Weapon:
As an action, I exhale destructive energy in a 15 ft cone. All in the area must make a Con saving throw with DC 8 + Con modifier + prof bonus. It does 2d6 poison damage, half as much damage on a successful save. The damage increases to 3d6 at level 6, 4d6 at level 11, and 5d6 at level 16. I can't use this feature again until I finish a short rest.
- Rage (Barbarian 1, PHB 48) [+2 melee damage, 2× per long rest]
Start/end as bonus action; add damage to melee weapons that use Str; lasts 1 min. Adv. on Strength checks/saves (not attacks); resistance to bludgeoning/piercing/slashing/ Stops if I end turn without attacking or taking damage since last turn, or unconscious
- Unarmored Defense (Barbarian 1, PHB 48)
Without armor, my AC is 10 + Dexterity modifier + Constitution modifier + shield
Criminal Contact: have a reliable and trustworthy contact who acts as my liaison to a network of other criminals. I know how to get messages to and from my contact, even over great distances; specifically, I know the local messengers, corrupt caravan masters, and seedy sailors who can deliver my messages.
- Coins: x cp • x sp • x ep • 15 gp • x pp • Other coins: x
- Gems: x
- In Hand: none
- Worn: Greatsword (on back), javelin case (on back), black jacket with shredded sleeves, black pants tucked into black leather boots
- Belt: Shortsword (in scabbard on left hip), coin purse, waterskin
- Backpack: Bedroll, Mess kit, tinderbox, torches (10), rations (10 days), 50' hemp rope, crowbar
- Poor: (2 sp/day)
Jarvin never really gave a flying fuck about his family's "honor" or "upholding their name" bullshit. The fucking "metal dragons" beat the shit out of him because he was chromatic. They did it to all the chromies. His clutchmates got the same treatment, but because they believed in the hype, they submitted to it and tried to just ignore it. He tried to do the same, but after his best friend's neck got broken during a "lesson" because he didn't intervene, he vowed that anyone who tried to "teach him a lesson" was going to get one of their own.
Jarvin told everyone to piss off when he turned 13 and got big enough to turn the metal's attacks against them consistently. No one, not a single fucking adult, backed him up, not even his parents. So he grabbed his clothes, put them in a napsack, and took off. The fact that a couple of silvers lost an eye or teeth before he was found missing was not coincidental.
He spent a couple of years on the streets living rough, getting into fights and using his brawn and ability to breathe poison at folks to scrabble up money and food. Soon enough, Old Kickel took him into his gang as a rough, and he started guarding Kickel and the faster, smaller ones, like Heidi the Dyke and Strop. Him and Shayel did all the heavy lifting when needed. He didn't need armor, he was tougher than that. Hell, he didn't need a weapon either, though when he got his hands on a greatsword after beating the shit out of a couple of "guards" during a heist, he didn't hesitate to figure out the balance of it so he could start applying extra force when someone refused to give their shit up.
Then, he fucked up. Hard. Got greedy while backing up Kickel and Heidi while raiding some magician's house and saw a ring that looked really cool. He could tell it probably could do some stuff, so he grabbed it and put it in his coat pocket. When he got back to his hidey-hole, he put it on, and everything went fucking berserk. His brain felt like it was being squeezed, his arm went hot, cold, numb, all electric, and his guts were being moved around without his permission. This... this PISSED HIM OFF. He'd never felt anger like this before. His vision went black, and he started screaming and punching and kicking and knocking everything around him. He was not in control, but he loved feeling like he was beating the shit out of this thing purely through spite.
When things were said and done, his arm had patterns of glowing lines in various colors, his coat was in tatters, all his shit was broken, he was breathing heavy, and when he looked in a mirror, his eyes had gone pure black, except for a ring of the prior green they'd been around the edges and around the iris.
He looked badass. He needed to take this shit on the road to see what he could do now.
- Old Kickel, leader of Underside Bugbears
- Heidi the Dyke, 2nd in command
- Shayel, intel-gathering
- Baz Landen, the "face" of the group