Hit Points:

42

Base THAC0:

15

Melee THAC0:

14

Missile THAC0:

13

Natural armour class

10

Full armour, studded leather +1

-3

Magic Armour adj.

-1

Balance Defensive adj.

-4

FINAL:

2

Dagger (Specialist)

Full armour, studded leather

Lasso (Specialist)

Quarterstaff (Specialist)

Fighting Style:

Thrown Weapon/Sling

Two-handed Weapon

Two Weapon (+2)

Disguise

11

Endurance

10

Forgery

11

Hunting

14

Navigation

10

Reading Lips

12

Reading/Writing

9

Rope Use

12

Throwing (Damage only)

15

Tracking

13

Paralysation: 9

Poison: 9

Death Magic: 9

Petrification: 12

Polymorph: 12

Rod: 13

Staff: 13

Wand: 13

Breath Weapon: 13

Spell: 13

THAC0

Attacks/

Speed

Damage

Range

(-2)

(-5)

Weapon

Melee

Missile

Round

Factor

Sm-Med

Large

Type

Size

Short

Medium

Long

Primary:

Quarterstaff

13

3/2

1

1d6+3

1d6+3

B

L

Hammer

16

15

1

4

1d4+2

1d3+2

B

S

4

6

8

Dagger

12

11

3/2 (3)

2

1d4+5

1d3+5

P

S

4

6

8

Lasso

11

1

7

B

L

4

6

6

Offhand:

Quarterstaff

13

1

1

1d6+3

1d6+3

B

L

Hammer

16

15

1

4

1d4+2

1d3+2

B

S

4

6

8

Dagger

12

11

1

2

1d4+5

1d3+5

P

S

4

6

8

Lasso

11

1

7

B

L

4

6

6

Skill

Base

Racial Mods

Ability Scores

Discretionary Points

Armour

Final

Climb walls

60

+0

+10

+15

-30

55%

Detect magic

5

+0

+0

+15

+0

20%

Find/remove traps

5

+5

+5

+15

-10

20%

Hide in shadows

5

+0

+10

+25

-20

25%

Move silently

10

+0

+10

+15

-20

15%

Open locks

10

+0

+15

+15

-10

30%

Spells Memorized (Default)

   Demarch

   1st Level

   Cause Fear

   Cause Light Wounds

   Cure Light Wounds

   Firelight

   Light

   2nd Level

   Cure Moderate Wounds

   Heat Metal

   Hold Person

   Obscure Alignment

   Silence, 15-foot Radius

   3rd Level

   Magical Vestment

   Unfailing Premonition

Inventory

   Items Carried

   Backpack

   Canvas (sq yard) x4

   Grappling hook

   Hammer

   Piton x10

   Rope, silk (50 ft)

   Sack, large

   Rations,iron (1 week)

   Sack, small

   * Gold Pieces x50

   Alexandrite (1000 gp)

   Tome of Eternal Life (Making of Mummies)

   Torch x3

   Wineskin

   Winter blanket

   Items Readied

   Quarterstaff

   Items Worn

   Belt

   Belt pouch, small

   * Gold Pieces x24

   Azurite (500 gp)

   Belt pouch, small

   Fishhook

   Soap

   Whetstone

   Belt pouch, small

   Chalk

   Flint and steel

   Mirror, small metal

   Thieves' picks

   Knife sheath

   Dagger

   Knife sheath

   Dagger

   Knife sheath

   Dagger

   Knife sheath

   Dagger

   Lasso

   Boots, soft

   Dagger x2

   Chainse, chemise

   Common robe

   Full armor, studded leather +1

   Girdle

   Dagger x3

   Girdle

   Dagger x3

   Gloves

   Good cloth cloak

   Hood

   Hose

   Jeweled Bracelet (Leucrotta + Lamia)

   Mask - Human

Demarch Spells Granted

Traits
Ambidexterity - reduces two weapon fighting penalty by 2.
Keen Smell - +1 bonus to surprise rolls when smell may be a factor. +2 bonus to all hunting proficiency checks.

Disadvantages
Colour-blind - Character sees only in shades of grey.
Phobia: Crowds - Each time the character is presented with their phobia, they must make a Wisdom/Willpower check every 2d6 rounds they are exposed to it. If failed, the character must flee the source of the phobia for 1d6 rounds, and must make another check. All checks are made at half ability score if the phobia is severe.
Tongue-tied - -2 penalty to reaction rolls when discussing important topics with NPCs.

Racial Abilities
Active sense of smell - The character's sense of smell is sensitive enough to give a +1 bonus to surprise rolls.
Attack bonus - +1 bonus to attack rolls for one melee weapon of the player's choice - Dagger
Damage bonus - +1 bonus to damage with one melee weapon of the players choice - Dagger

Class Abilities
Fighter
    1d12 for hit points - d12 Hit Point die.
    Magic resistance - 2% magic resistance per level.
    Multiple specialization - Allows specialization in more than one weapon.
    Spell resistance - +1 bonus to all saves vs. spell.
    Limited armor - May not wear armor heavier than leather.
    Thief weapons only - May only use thief weapons.
Demarch
    Climb walls* 55% - Able to climb vertical or smooth surfaces.
    Detect magic* 20% - Has a chance to detect magical radiance.
    Find/remove traps* 20% - Skill at finding and disarming traps.
    Hide in shadows* 20% - Grants the ability to hide in shadows.
    Move silently* 15% - May move without making a sound.
    Open locks* 30% - Skill at opening locks with the proper tools.
    Thieves' cant - Knowledge of the secret language of thieves.
    Minor Spheres of Magic - Elemental, All, Sun, Thought, Time, Weather
    Major Spheres of Magic - All, Astral, Charm, Combat, Divination, Guardian, Healing, Necromantic, Protection, Summoning
    Free Spell - At level 1, Demarchs are able to cast Darkness once a day

    Free Spell – At level 1, Demarchs are able to cast Lorloveim's Creeping Shadow as the Wizard Spell once a week

    Free Spell – At level 1, Demarchs are able to cast Shadowcloak - as the Wizard Spell once a week

    Free Spell - At level 3, Demarchs are able to cast Shadow Door as the Wizard Spell once a day
    Free Spell - At level 5, Demarchs are able to cast Shadow Monsters as the Wizard Spell once a day
    Free Spell - At level 7, Demarchs are able to cast Demi-shadow Monsters as the Wizard Spell or Seeming as the Wizard Spell once a day
    Free Spell - At level 10, Demarchs are able to cast Shades as the Wizard Spell once a day
    Free Spell - At level 13, Demarchs are able to cast Lorloveim's Shadowy Transformation as the Wizard Spell once a day
    Free Spell - At level 15, Demarchs are able to cast Shadowcat as the Wizard Spell once a day
    Free Spell - At level 20, Demarchs are able to cast Shadow Walk as the Wizard Spell or Vanish as the Wizard Spell once a day

Kit - Bounty Hunter
The Bounty Hunter is a ruthless mercenary, worshipping little besides the price on his target's head, recognizing few laws save the contractual distinction between "kill" and "capture." He may be found serving the state, capturing criminals and bringing them to justice; or he may serve the shadowy lords of the underworld, avenging the twisted honour found among thieves and criminals. Pursuit of his quarry may take him through a thousand hostile environments, to foreign lands, even to alien planes. He is a hunter of men.

The Bounty Hunter's vocation is rigorous and demanding at every level: physical, psychological, even moral. It requires a sure hand and a stable mind. To be a Bounty Hunter, a thief must have minimum scores of 11 in every ability except Charisma. One thing that doesn't really matter to a tough, independent thief like this is whether or not people like him.

A further requirement is that the Bounty Hunter be of a non-lawful alignment. The reasons for this are discussed below.

Role: It is important to draw a distinction between the Bounty Hunter and the Assassin, for their vocations are similar.

The Assassin is most often part of a larger network or organization—either a society of Assassins for hire, or a guild or crime family, or even a government. The Assassin is retained by that organization to discreetly eliminate its enemies; he is strictly a killer. The Assassin also is a predominantly urban figure, though his missions may take him out of that setting on occasion. Most organizations that have Assassins would deny their existence, because of the highly illegal and unpopular nature of their activities.

The Bounty Hunter, by contrast, is a loner. He may be solicited directly by an employer, but more often he simply learns of a price offered for the body (living or dead) of some person and goes after him.

While the Assassin requires secrecy and anonymity, the Bounty Hunter thrives on infamy. Fear leads his prey to make mistakes, and each such mistake brings the Bounty Hunter one step closer to success. While an Assassin is often hired to kill relatively normal, often unsuspecting people, the Bounty Hunter is tracking fugitives—people who know who's after them, and are therefore exceptionally desperate and dangerous.

Pursuit of such people may lead the Bounty Hunter to literally any place, even to other planes of existence (if the prospective reward will make the venture worthwhile), and so the Bounty Hunter becomes adept at survival and tracking in all manner of hostile environments.

Bounty Hunters do not track only fugitives. They may be hired to perform such tasks as kidnapping, freeing kidnapped persons, or (especially at lower levels, when they are still developing their skills) recovering stolen property.

The law and authorities do not always look kindly upon Bounty Hunters, though they will permit their existence so that they, too, may benefit from the manhunters' expertise. For the same reason, thieves' guilds tolerate the Bounty Hunters, despite the fact that almost no Hunter would ever join their ranks.

Character History
Chapter 1
"Darkness", he thought. "Fucking pain and darkness" this is what his world is made of. All he can remember of his life is pain and darkness. And warmth. Warmth is good. Warmth is soothing. Warmth makes him sleep, sleep and forget.
    Pain again and darkness. He must be awake again. He knows what he is, but he does not know who he is. He knows that he must be older than the day or so since he was last awake. Somehow he knows that he has lived for nearly 20 years. Odours, sights and sounds slowly come back to him. Some are strange and some are immediately forgotten again. One or two cause a stirring of emotions. Sleep captures him again.
He can move! This is something new. He has to grasp at all things new. Has to keep his mind on the "new" so he has something to remember, something to use against the pain.
    He feels his arms, legs, body, and head. He senses that he lying on his side on a hard floor. Mud and rocks. His back is leaning against a rock. He has a nose, mouth and eyes. His nose is keen. Keen like a bloodhound's nose. Its senses overwhelm him as he tries to identify the odours permeating the air. Something from his past and hidden in the variant intensities of perfumes in his nose tells him to lie as still as possible and not attract attention.
    There is the metallic smell of blood nearby, considering the way he feels it is probably mostly his own. There is also the strong smell of smoke from a fire stoked with dry wood, probably pine and conifer wood, which has a slightly sharper, tangier odour then the slower burning hardwoods. This must be the source of the healing warmth. It's coming from behind him, behind the rock surface that he's leaning against. The light veil of warmth wraps it's arms around the rock and keeps him on the edge of life.
    From ahead he can smell the damp and humid odours of a cave. A natural cave made up of limestone and calcium stalagmites and stalactites. Further away comes the smell of matted fur. Danger! It has a muddy tang to the smell, like semi-dried algae. His past is zooming in on him. His subconscious is trying to protect him. He must stay away from "that".
    Not far from his head he can smell a small puddle of muddy water. It must be about an arms length away. His body immediately aches for the water, which his nose has brought to its attention. Squinting through his eyes, which have never been very good, do not help him now. He can't see anything, just a hazy blur and a flickering from the fire somewhere behind the rock that's acting as his backrest. He opens his dry mouth and runs his parched tongue over his lips and teeth. One of his tusks is freshly broken, the edges along the break still sharp and tearing into his tongue.
The whole body and mouth are now crying out for water and he stretches his strong, hairy arms and legs. Pain forces a grunt from his dry mouth. "Have to keep quiet!" The pain is mainly in his right hand and right side of his abdomen. It feels like he has been lacerated along that side. Squinting again he finds that he's managed to crawl to the water puddle without being aware of the effort. Ah water and warmth, the two only friends in his life that have helped him through the tough times. And sleep. Yes, more sleep.
A ceiling is above him as he opens his eyes again. He feels remarkably well, and almost happy when he's overcome by a feeling of dread. Still unable to remember anything solid, various internal warnings give him an idea of what he must do to survive. The fire represents death and he cannot go there. While its warmth may be soothing, it's location is fraught with danger. Ahead and to his right also lies danger, but it is the unknown. "Mask help me in my quest for survival".
"Mask"? Mask, yes! Mask was the voice in his head. Mask had saved his life. It gave him strength while recovering and it gave him the power to divert the danger that was out there! Mask was his saviour. He slowly remembers Mask, a strong source of comfort and direction. Someone that he looked up to, for guidance and even a purpose in life. They clearly understood each other. Deep inside himself he could communicate with Mask, and in exchange for his trust and devotion to Mask he gained certain skills. These skills weren't very grand but offers of greater powers for long service to Mask's principles made them a good team with respect, trust and desire driving him on to follow his guide-lines.
The message of "matted fur and algae", coming from his nose is warning him. It's at distance of about 50 feet and moving slowly closer. He starts a ritual mumbling under his breath: "Mask, help me with your guidance and wisdom. Infuse this poor body with your energy here and now and my gratitude will enforce my binding devotion to all that gives you power and strength." A sigh of pure pleasure escapes his mouth as some of the pain in his side is lifted and the throbbing behind his eyes disappears. Gods surely like to deal out small miracles, and curing his whole right side with a simple incantation certainly has the flavour of a lifesaving miracle right now. With his eyes a bit better now, he can see the ceiling above him with the dancing shadows of the flames against stalactites of the constant fire shining from behind him. He pushes himself up, holding his right arm and hand into his side, trying to calm the remaining waves of pain. He tastes blood as he bites on his lips in order to remain quiet. As he pushes himself off the ground his fingers manage to snag the wooden stick that was lying next to his hand. It is a broken spear with the tip broken off and lost; the remainder of the staff is long, straight and strong.
Using skills that he didn't remember he had he travels quietly towards the deeper cave, keeping to shadows where he can. Keeping the flames at his left side and the fury damp monster somewhere behind him he walks on until notices a wall looming in front of him. It's a wall roughly hewn, hewn from a natural cave. To the left it leads to the fire, to the right it leads into darkness. He must keep moving so he turns right, the monster somewhere behind him and to the right. Following the wall he slowly looses the scent of the monster, but also the light and warmth of the fire.
More and more stalagmites rise up from the floor, with some large columns towering over him, giving him a feeling that he must be a long way underground. He stumbles over some short, thick and heavy bones. A very fresh kill with flesh and sinews still attached. By the looks of the grizzly remains they belonged to an unfortunate dwarf. He has a feeling that he never liked dwarves very much anyway and keeps going.
Just a couple of steps further on, his nose again helps him to smell a small current of fresh air falling down from above, along a dome-shaped calcite column. The dome is at least 20 feet in diameter and very slippery, with the large base covering the ground like a bowl placed upside down. Going back he grabs the thighbone of the dwarven skeleton. On the way he is unfreying the bottom of his simple, dirty brown tunic until he has about 6 feet of string. Going back to the dome he ties the string to top of the staff and then places the thighbone upright against the side of the dome and the staff next to it, also upright. Stepping on the bone gives him enough hight to step onto the staff with his other foot, using all of his dexterity to balance as he pushes himself towards the top of the dome. The stalactites hanging down and merging with the top of the dome come in to his sight, just out of reach of his stretched out arm. A slight jump from his nimble leg on top of the pole gives him the reach to grab on to the stalactite. He pulls himself up and in to a sitting position on top of the dome, leaning against a whole circular row of uneven ceramic columns hanging down from the ceiling. Some have not yet reached down to the dome, but most are firmly joined to the formation. Then he pulls up the staff after him, reeling in the thin string he used to join the pole to his leather thong belt.
    His efforts have not gone unnoticed. The smell of the muddy, algae-like fur is now permeating the air. Looking down he can now see a massive shape shuffling on all fours below him. Looking like a large brown bear in this dim light, it doesn't have the clean, natural smell of a bear. It probably doesn't have the same sharp sense of smell as a normal bear either, because it doesn't pick up on his location. It only takes about 20 seconds for the bear-thing to amble past, but the sight of the creature inspired a terror into him unlike anything he can recall.

Chapter 2
He can slide between two pillows and use the staff to wedge himself into a sitting position, with the staff against his chest and his arms leaning over the spear. Turning his head he has instant access to water by licking the slippery column at his side.
He goes back to sleep. Unhappy memories surface in his dream as he starts to relive his life in a nightmare; He was brought up as a showpiece in a circus. The ugliest baby ever born. Humans are very cruel when it comes to the half-breeds such as him. He was found as a baby next to the road nearly dead from pneumonia. The circus manager instantly saw him as a money making exhibit and treated him well. He eventually learned that he was a half-orc, half-human. Everyone called him "half-orc" or "hey you" as he grew up and started to help around the circus. "Hey you" slowly became the standard and changed to "Hay Iou" due to his mentor's accent. He hated the crowds that used to laugh and even spit at him and he covered his face at an early age to hide the reason for their hatred. This was also the time that he learned about "Mask". Mask spoke to him in his head.
    It wasn't until he was about twelve that he was introduced to a demarch of Mask. The priest introduced himself as he saw the half-orc working around the circus with his facemask on. A dream at a very early age of the demarch's live indicated that he would meet a great hero of Mask at a public festive location. This hero would be reborn by mother earth before making his mark in the world. The demarch decided to travel with the troupe and he took Hay Iou under his wing. By the age of sixteen Hay had learned all that the demarch could teach him. However he still had a lot to learn from the discredited ranger that acted as a juggler in the circus. Disregarding his old religious mentor's attempt to draw him away from his current home he continued on with the circus. He felt nothing when the demarch finally left him to his own devises. The crowds leering at him through the imitation cage that he sat in during his exhibition times over the years had washed any attachments towards his fellow men away long ago. He had also been fighting off the demarch's unnatural advances for long enough to become just a little claustrophobic in his company.
His time spent with his new mentor, the old ranger was used to learn about juggling daggers, spinning wooden staves and twirling rope, as well as reading tracks and hunting. These were enjoyable times for Iou or Aqualung as the ranger named him (due to his uncanny ability to make a sound like bubbling water then snoring in his sleep). These times ended when the ranger was caught with the circus master's wife. They were at it doggie style in a small side tent just as the canvas was pulled down in front of the whole crew. It was a practical joke from those that knew about the affair. However the ranger had to run for his life and the wife had severe bruising for weeks after the incident.
Aqualung tracked the ranger down in a 3-day chase, knocked him out and held him down as the circus master castrated the ranger in public before hanging him in private. It took several days for Aqualung understand that he felt no emotions for betraying his friendship with the ranger in order to enhance his experiences in life, just as Mask had whispered to him time and time again. The man was a loser, he deserved to die in order to enhance Aqualung's progress. This experience gave Aqualung the confidence to set out on his own and make his fortune as a bounty hunter. With the 200 gold pieces that Aqualung made from the capture of the ranger he set out to find his fortune, become powerful and find his parents. He wanted to find his parents in order to find his inheritance, to see if his skills as a bounty hunter could be stretched to such a task and proved to Mask that he has indeed become skilled and powerful. A feeling of belonging that might come with finding them would be a bonus, but not something that he counted on, as he intended kill them for their betrayal of him as a baby.
Newly equipped with all the essentials that his money could buy his search led him to the orc villages nearest to the area where he was found. The mountains were looming up in front of him as he stepped through a makeshift gate into the Orc village of Gruumsh's Thumbprint, set in a valley in the lower hills. He wasn't accepted into the society but tolerated as a guest of the local inn with no name, where he had to share the hay in the stables. This would not have been too bad if it hadn't been for the fact that most of the mounts used by the local orcs were giant boars that never seemed to sleep and were always fighting amongst themselves. The stench was almost too much for his super sensitive nose, and if it weren't for the warmth and security he would have slept out in the wild.
His last memories were those of him climbing into the hay to sleep off the food and drink from the inn after another day of abuse and conflict with the Orc's shaman, and in no way closer to finding either of his parents. His latest problem was that there were more orcs alive then humans in this area and he had no idea of whether it was his mother of father that was responsible for the Orc blood in his system.
After that something terrible happened to him. Something so frighting that it made him wake up with a shock It took him quite some time to clear his head and remember where he was. He was cold, wet and very hungry. His left arm had gone to sleep, but he was still sitting, wedged between 2 columns on top of the calcite dome in the cave. The dream reminded him of his daily routines and so he once again started to mumble his daily thanks to Mask. He thanked his god for looking after him and staying by his side. He promised to remain loyal to the principles of shadow and thieving and to preach his words to those that might be interested and in need of Mask's assistance. He did this with renewed enthusiasm and the sincerity of a fanatic follower. He knew that he would become a great priest of Mask in the future. His memory became clearer during his morning mantra, something he accredited to Mask actively listening to him. By the end of the payers he remembered who he was. He had a name. He will from now on be called "Aqualung of Mask".

Chapter 3
However Mask would not tolerate failure. Once again he needed to get in contact with his surroundings. The air flow still brought fresh air from above and he poked upwards with his staff to find a hollow, irregular chimney angling away from him. It was only about 5 feet above his head. It was large enough to fit 3 of him side by side. Another curing spell on his hand and side before he started to climb brought him back to feeling his best. The hunger was cramping his stomach, but he was used to that from his circus days, when circus staff didn't want to feed him for several days and shared his rations amongst themselves. So he started his climb. Working completely by feel and smell, since his body blocked out the last vestiges of light and his bad eyes were already at maximum dilation, it was very slow progress. The angle of ascent was in his favour, but several times he had to squeeze through narrow gaps. Then he got to an almost vertical rise and he decided to rest. From below he heard shouts, but he was confident of his security. His sense of smell told him that no one has been at his location for as far back as his nose could tell.
The shouts were those of orcs arguing back and forth:
"Get … stinking half-human…. Die!"
and the reply came, "But why? …. . anything. At …..me …. Swine.."
Then there was a chorus of laughs.
On he went. He had to use his staff to knock rocks out of his way at the top of the shaft as he had wedged himself against the slippery walls. The noise of the falling boulders was drowned out by another sound. An animal scream of victory, then: "Heeelllp/ " cut off abruptly with a literal bone-crunching sound. 'That was the scull', he though and it made his blood run cold and he felt himself pissing in his pants. Something in that short scream reminded him of the death-like experience he had just survived down there himself. He quickly pulled himself together and made sure his urine didn't run out to the floor below, giving away his location with a scent trail. He had to rip off the remains of his grubby shirt to soak up the yellow trail and puddles. Then he made sure none of it got away. Once he was satisfied he put the shirt back on and continued his climb.
Another ten feet on and he could see some light refecting of the sides of the tunnel above him. With new hope he climbed faster and was soon rewarded with a narrow crack in the side of the tunnel that led to another thin short tunnel. This tunnel, about 2 feet high, 1 foot across and about 2 feet long open to the night-time sky. His sense of time was completely confused, had he thought that it must have been early afternoon. He had thought that is was morning when he prayed to Mask. Obviously his god didn't mind when the prayers happened.
Further upwards was blocked and all he could get through the crack was his arm. As he pushed his arm through he could feel some sticks and feathers on the ground in the side tunnel. Further fumbling rewarded him with three eggs and a couple of shards of obsidian rock, sharp and shiny. There were also some blue coloured rocks, flowers and cloth pieces. He popped the small eggs in his mouth, shell and all and chewed a couple of times before swallowing. He considered this meal as good as the meal he rewarded himself with after he earned his 200 gold pieces in a renowned tavern.
A couple of hours of rest later he heard the parent bird arrive at the nest. It was a black bird, about twice the size of a pigeon with yellow legs and a back beak. Aqualung couldn't see the details, but the bird died of fright as she felt a hand around her neck while looking for her eggs. This time Aqualung took his time to remove the feathers before munching on his price, raw and including all the bones. Then he started working on enlarging the crack and pushing his body through. It took him about 2 hours of hammering with his staff and pulling on loose rock. He lost two fingernails as he tried to pull out some of the boulders blocking his escape. He wrapped is bleeding fingers in a urine-soaked piece of his shirt, and he eventually made it out. He clambered through the tunnel and saw the sun rise over the valley opposite his tunnel. He looked around and found himself poking his head out of the upper half of a small cliff. It didn't take long for him to clamber out and up to the top. This was a natural skill for a Demarch of Mask that had trained in the circus with acrobats and jugglers. Once he made it to the top his first smile twitched on his lips. Then a laugh cracked his face and he whooped in the glory of the moment.

Chapter 4
    He spent the next week scouting the immediate area, catching his food with traps along the many animal tracks he sniffed out. Finally the weather got to cold for him and he collected the furs he had cleaned and dried with the sharp obsidian rocks from the birds nest and a few others he had found and he headed off towards the nearest township.
    Aqualung always hated being the centre of attention, and that's exactly what he was when he entered the outskirts of the small bustling town. He was happy that his skin was mostly covered by fur rather than hair, so at least he didn't have a beard to go with his wilderness look. The rags that covered him were barely visible against his fur, his hands and feet were blackened with mud, soil and other grime, his smell and naturally ugly features made him into a gruesome spectacle. The big bunch of furs slung over his back gave him an added hunchbacked look. Mothers hid their children behind their skirts and everyone crossed the road to get out of his way. He sneered and spat at people as they giving him disgusted looks. "Fuck off" is what he usually said. Finally he lumbered in to the fur trader's shop. He entered in the front but was quickly whisked away into the rear courtyard. There he managed to trade the furs for some almost decent leather clothes with a large, deep hood, a couple of rusty old daggers, a weeks worth of dried rations and the use of the horse's troth with a scrubbing brush and some unperfumed soap. He even managed to haggle a couple of gold pieces for the six extra fine fox furs he had in his bundle.
    After his washing and scrubbing that lasted for about 2 hours, he dressed himself and made a mask from his old shirt (after he washed and dried it). It was basically a 'V' shaped cloth with two eyeholes along the top and centred above the point of the V. He would possition these holes over his eyes and stretch the 'wings' over his slightly pointed ears and around the back of his head. The flap would cover his nose and mouth. He decided to wear this if he ever needed to meet with people or enter a public arena.
    Then, finally relieved to have some foundations again he decided to start his quests over. To find his parents, become an infamous bounty hunter, and alongside his deity, become powerful through the promotions of twilight and shadows and obvious related activities. Keeping that in mind he started by heading off to the darker areas of the town. He needed a quite, lonely place to set up his base. Somewhere where the neighbours would mind their own fucking business and leave him alone, unless they required his services. He certainly wasn't looking to chat to someone over a cup of tea!
    The next five weeks he spent building a small temple dedicated to Mask in an old warehouse. It required balance and speed to enter through a top window, across a rickety old beam, from another roof. He also set up a couple of traps with the purposes of warning him of an intruder, of warning an uninvited guest away and in order to test those that entered to make sure they were worthy of entering the realm of Mask. He built up a relationship with some of the less likable people in town. The thugs, thieves and even some hired killers. He traded Mask's healing miracles for coin or barter, but these relationships usually didn't last long due to early fatal retirements of his customers. He on the other hand did not have to worry about those unsavoury people, because they needed him and he managed to go unnoticed about the town. Even the constabulary did not want to start a war by interfering directly with his set-up.
    Eventually he was ready to make a move. He was looking for opportunities to make his mark and his fortune. One evening, after living in town for about six months, he saw a party of people enter the Crystal Decanter during his wanderings in the shadows of what he considered, with sarcasm, to be the pastures of his flock. One of the lowest dives around town, the Crystal Decanter attracted only scum or those in search of information. Somehow one of their faces struck a cord in his subconscious. However he could not place her in his memories, so he put on his mask and entered the tavern behind them.
    While the group of people, who were obviously a gang of adventurers with varying ranges of skills, were involved in some typical barroom activities, Aqualung tried, by force of will, to open his memory and find a relationship to the face he had spotted. Nothing came of it. He only managed to get himself a headache in the process.

Summary:
Aqualung of Mask is now a bounty hunter by profession. He hates all creatures except himself. He hates Dwarves and Mages even more. So he is walking through live trying to eliminate those that stand in his way. Sometime he makes a special effort to eliminate Dwarves and Mages. Sometimes he prefers to use those around him in order to enhance his personal success.

He currently owes Cyrstal 7,500gp and Elvira 6,500gp for training costs.