K
KattDclaw
Guest
A work in progress for a beloved D&D/Pathfinder character.
KAT
Female Catfolk Bard (Dawnflower Dervish)
Chaotic Good Medium Humanoid (Catfolk)
Age: 21
Race: Catfolk
Gender: female
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 120 Lbs.
Hair: Red
Eyes: Amber
Fur: Black
Background: Kat’s earliest memories were of the sand blasted streets of a small dessert city. What had happened to her parents she couldn’t recall, all she remembered since a kitten was the need for survival on the tough, mean streets. She grew up fast on those streets, a thief in the night until one day she was caught red handed. Yet it was by no brutal thug of a guard that she was captured, but by a funny man with a weathered face and a honest smile. He wore fancy clothing and a slender, curved sword at his side. The man introduced himself as Ser Brandon Whitecliff, a bard and dervish of the Dawnflower. He gave her two choices, come with him and learn the ways of The Healing Light or be turned over to the city guard for punishment.
That was the day Kat left the city for good; never did she even look back. The trip through the desert was long and harsh, yet always was there a song on Ser Whitecliff’s lips to keep their morale high. For a man of his age he had a wonderful singing voice and seemed songs from every culture Kat heard of and many more she had no idea existed. Yet in the middle of the night of the third day they were attacked. A group of slavers found their tiny camp in the rolling dunes of the sand sea. A pretty little catfolk female would fetch a good price in the fleshpens no doubt. Though before they could launch their attack in full Ser Whitecliff’s scimitar came flashing out from its scabbard like the morning rays of the sun. The fight was over before it truly began, Kat marveled at how gracefully the man moved as he sliced through his foes one by one. Yet he did not make it through the battle unscathed. A unlucky blow had left his left side bloodied through his expensive attire. The sight of so much blood brought tears to the kitten’s eyes, but Brandon assured her that they would make it to the safety of the temple. They set out that night in haste, Ser Whitecliff driving his horse as fast as he could.
By the time the sun began to rise and cast its brilliance over the land they had made their destination, or at least some of them. As soon as they came to a halt and several clergy emerged from the open aired temple to assist them Ser Whitecliff offered one final smile and died. Kat mourned the loss of the only friend she had truly known for several days. She was offered a place at the temple to grow and learn, to become part of The Dawnflower’s fold. In Ser Whitecliff’s memory she took up the mantle of the Dawnflower dervish, learning the ways of the dance and sword to smite the enemies of her new found Goddess and help those that sought redemption.
KAT
Female Catfolk Bard (Dawnflower Dervish)
Chaotic Good Medium Humanoid (Catfolk)
Age: 21
Race: Catfolk
Gender: female
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 120 Lbs.
Hair: Red
Eyes: Amber
Fur: Black
Background: Kat’s earliest memories were of the sand blasted streets of a small dessert city. What had happened to her parents she couldn’t recall, all she remembered since a kitten was the need for survival on the tough, mean streets. She grew up fast on those streets, a thief in the night until one day she was caught red handed. Yet it was by no brutal thug of a guard that she was captured, but by a funny man with a weathered face and a honest smile. He wore fancy clothing and a slender, curved sword at his side. The man introduced himself as Ser Brandon Whitecliff, a bard and dervish of the Dawnflower. He gave her two choices, come with him and learn the ways of The Healing Light or be turned over to the city guard for punishment.
That was the day Kat left the city for good; never did she even look back. The trip through the desert was long and harsh, yet always was there a song on Ser Whitecliff’s lips to keep their morale high. For a man of his age he had a wonderful singing voice and seemed songs from every culture Kat heard of and many more she had no idea existed. Yet in the middle of the night of the third day they were attacked. A group of slavers found their tiny camp in the rolling dunes of the sand sea. A pretty little catfolk female would fetch a good price in the fleshpens no doubt. Though before they could launch their attack in full Ser Whitecliff’s scimitar came flashing out from its scabbard like the morning rays of the sun. The fight was over before it truly began, Kat marveled at how gracefully the man moved as he sliced through his foes one by one. Yet he did not make it through the battle unscathed. A unlucky blow had left his left side bloodied through his expensive attire. The sight of so much blood brought tears to the kitten’s eyes, but Brandon assured her that they would make it to the safety of the temple. They set out that night in haste, Ser Whitecliff driving his horse as fast as he could.
By the time the sun began to rise and cast its brilliance over the land they had made their destination, or at least some of them. As soon as they came to a halt and several clergy emerged from the open aired temple to assist them Ser Whitecliff offered one final smile and died. Kat mourned the loss of the only friend she had truly known for several days. She was offered a place at the temple to grow and learn, to become part of The Dawnflower’s fold. In Ser Whitecliff’s memory she took up the mantle of the Dawnflower dervish, learning the ways of the dance and sword to smite the enemies of her new found Goddess and help those that sought redemption.
