Nasharr of the Tribe of the Howling Earth

A rogue of the Howling Earth Tribe, a clan of Albino Mountain-Lion Catfolk known for their cave-dwelling and reverence of Nature's more subterranean manifestations.


NAME: Nasharr of the Tribe of Howling Earth PLAYER: Kevin Joiner

CLASS & LEVEL: Catfolk 1/Rogue 3 RACE: Catfolk ALIGNMENT: CG

SIZE: L (See Below) AGE: 17 GENDER: M HEIGHT: 12’6" WEIGHT: 840lbs

DESCRIPTION: Nasharr is a catfolk of the Howling Earth Tribe, a clan of albino mountain-lion Catfolk known for their cave-dwelling and reverence of Nature’s more subterranean manifestations. The pale-white of his skin and fur are offset by long hair – dyed black and worn in beaded braids – and pink eyes which, like most of his clan, have begun to retrograde due to the unlighted conditions of much of their underground life. He is unusually large for his kind, due to an unfortunate run-in with a gaseous form of Pure Chaos, which took him from medium to large size, with all the perks and disadvantages. Proportionately speaking, his frame is tall and slender, but powerful, and always draped in a stone-gray thieves’ cloak, which he keeps belted tightly in order to protect his sensitive skin from the overbearing sun. Upon his fine belt rests a hand crossbow and sheathed on his back is his ever-ready rapier. Both weapons are of the highest quality available in Ptolus. Since his unexpected growth spurt, he’s also become proficient with a rather exotic weapon for his class: the spiked chain. The one he has is of ordinary quality, but he hopes to soon purchase one made of adamantine. Beneath his cloak, he wears a black loincloth, the typical raiment of his kind, over which hangs a long chain-shirt of Mithral. He wears neither gloves nor boots, the pads on his hands and feet providing traction and protection enough. Dangling from his neck is the holy symbol of his deity, Murrshess the Descender, and at his belt is a small pouch containing a few tokens of personal significance, such as a tooth from the Carrion Crawler which very nearly ended his days. The tooth, like all of his equipment, is also twice its original size – it makes for an interesting tall-tale.

STR: 23
DEX: 18
CON: 17
INT: 14
WIS: 13
CHA: 17



ARMOR TYPE: Mithral Chain Shirt
Type: Light AC Bonus: 5 Max Dex: +6
Check Penalty: 0 Spell Failure: n/a Weight: 25
Special Properties: +1

WILL: -1


Attack Bonus: 8 Damage: 1d8+6 Critical: 18-20/x2
Range: n/a Type: Piercing Notes: Masterwork Weapon

MELEE WEAPON: Spiked Chain
Attack Bonus: 7 Damage: 2d6+9 Critical: 20/x2
Range: n/a Type: Piercing Notes:

RANGED WEAPON: Hand Crossbow
Attack Bonus: 6 Damage: 1d6 Critical: 19-20/x2
Range: 30ft Type: Piercing Notes: Masterwork Weapon

Acrobatics: 8
Appraise: 7
Bluff: 8
Climb: 10
Trapmaking: 6 (8 with Masterwork Artisan Tools)
Diplomacy: 8
Disable Device: 7 (9 with Masterwork Thieves Tools)
Disguise: 7 (9 with Disguise Kit)
Escape Artist: 8
Intimidate: 8
Dungeoneering: 6
Local: 6
Linguistics: 6
Perception: 8
Perform: 0
Profession: 0
Sense Motive: 6
Sleight of Hand: 8
Stealth: 8 (-4 for Large Size)
Survival: 2
Swim: 10
Use Magic Device: 7

Improved Initiative,
Scent (Bonus Flaw Feat),
Combat Expertise (Bonus Flaw Feat),
Weapon Finesse (Rogue Talent) (Currently retraining for Combat Reflexes),
Exotic Weapon Proficiency: Spiked Chain

Weak Willed,
Murky Eyed

Sneak Attack +2d6,
Rogue Talent:
(Finesse Rogue) (Currently retraining for Combat Reflexes),
Trap Sense +1


(Weight in parentheses)
+1 Mithral Chain Shirt (25),
Rapier, Masterwork (4),
Hand Crossbow, Masterwork (4),
Spiked Chain (10),
Artisans’ Tools, Masterwork (5) (Kept at home),
Belt Pouch (1),
Clothing (Thieves’ cloak, loincloth) (2.5),
Disguise Kit, 10 uses (8) (Kept at home),
Fishing Gear (4),
Holy Symbol, Wooden, (Murrshess the Descender) (2),
Sack (1),
Thieves’ Tools, Masterwork (2),
Waterskin (8),
Whetstone (2)

Total Wt.: 65.5

Light Load: 400
Medium Load: 800
Heavy Load: 1,200
Lift Over Head: 1,200
Lift Off Ground: 2,400
Push or Drag: 6,000

XP: 6000 (need 4000 for Next Level)

Gp.: 80


“Who am I? No idea, but I am known as Nasharr of the Tribe of the Howling Earth. As for what brings me to Ptolus – that is a much easier question to answer: the Undercity. It’s wide and deep here and you never know what you might find. Sure, the adventuring is a fun – curiosity killed the cat, you know – and it pays the bills, but that’s all secondary. You see, we cave-dwelling Catfolk are always sniffing under some big rock or squeezing into some rabbit-hole, looking for a sign from our god, Murrshess the Descender – and a sense of who we are, if the truth be told. Never heard of him? Not surprised. Even most of Catfolk think he’s a myth, and that my tribal kin are crazy for spending most of our days underground, away from sunlight and grassland. But he’s real, I tell you, and he’s down there!

Curiosity never killed Murrshess, but it did get him into a lot of trouble. I guess he went digging around in one cavern too many, because he fell into a deep crack in the core of a mountain; he might have died if not for the grace of a thermal draft. Our shamans say he came to rest on a grassy beach beside a vast sea. At his back were endless plains and forests, and mountains higher than any under the sun. All was dimly lit by the distant liquid flame that is the heart of Earth. Like any good Catfolk would, Murrshess went exploring in those fields of strange colors and shapes and dined at his leisure on foreign fish and rodents, succulent far beyond what our kind now favor. Eventually, fatigue wore on him and he curled upon the soft ground to sleep. How long he rested there, no one knows – time is of no concern in that twilight world – but he was stirred from his slumber by a brilliant light. Above him hovered Hypogea, an unknown Nature-goddess, and she blessed him for finding and opening the long-lost passage to the Underwild. Countless eons ago, a great earthquake of arcane and abominable origin sealed the way to the Underwild. All the myriad denizens of that subterranean realm were sealed-off from their brethren above. Hypogea was no different and her powers dwindled until she was all but mortal. Now that the way to the upper-world was clear again, Hypogea began to rejuvenate, though slowly. She took Murrshess as her lover and, when he ascended again to speak to his tribe of what he had found, she appointed him as her emissary.

Though he managed to convince a few of his Clansfolk of the truth of his tale, most thought him a liar, a fool, or insane. A charge of heresy was even thrown against him, though it ultimately came to nothing. Undaunted, he led his handful of followers along the same path that had brought him out of the Underwild and they saw the truth of his words with their own eyes. For a time, they lived a double-existence, both in the Underwild and the mountain passages that form its gateway and upon the savannah-home of their less-faithful clan. Murrshess went more and more frequently into the Underwild, venturing alone into its unexplored reaches, until one day, a great earthquake broke the mountain wherein lay Hypogea’s Womb, the Mouth of the Underwild. Nearly half of the faithful were killed in that cataclysm and Murrshess was never again seen in the flesh. Yet, on the evening of the next Veiled Moon, each one of the remaining disciples had the same dream. In it, Murrshess told them that his fidelity to their goddess had been rewarded by his deification and that he now sits enthroned at the right hand of Hypogea. From then on, the faithful were to call him Murrshess the Descender. Leaving land and people and family, they were to form their own tribe, known as the Howling Earth, and establish themselves permanently among the mountains passes and caverns, wherever they should find them. It was their charge, and that of succeeding generations, to explore every open place beneath the Earth, no matter how small, until the path to the sylvan paradise that is the Underwild lies open once more. It is then that Hypogea and her consort, Murrshess the Descender, will take their proper place among the other gods.

So, yeah, I have an ulterior motive, but it’s an honorable one. And in the meantime, I enjoy nothing more than doing the good-deed racket with my mates in the OSR. Now, about that drink – I’ll have a malted milk. Then – yawn – maybe a nap.”

Nasharr of the Tribe of the Howling Earth

Oldtown Search and Rescue changingape