Landsoftheblacksea:Main Page/players/gabriel malavielle

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A rakish young noble from Avis Inia who was sent out of sight and mind to an Academy where he eventually found his calling as an Invoker.


Neutral Good Mage (Invoker) Level: 2
XP: 3,841 / 5,000
Height: 6'2", Weight: 198lbs, Hair: Brown, longish, Eyes: Brown, Age: 23
Background: Athervonian nobleman (Avis Inia), family name is actually Dampierre. Studied at the Academe in Aven Bentois but ran with guilds apprentices in town, getting into many fights and breaking a few heads.
Basic description: Gabriel is a hulking bruiser with a broken nose and usually a sneer on his face. He is normally dressed in good quality clothing yet is unkempt.

Attributes and Secondary Stats

Strength 10 Wt. Allowance: 40#; Max Press: 115#; Open Doors: 6; Bend Bars: 2%
Dexterity 18 +2 React. Adj; +2 Missile Att. Adj.; -4 Def. Adj.
Constitution 16 HP Adj: +2; Sys. Shock: 95%; Res. Surv: 96%
Intelligence 18 #Lang: 7; Max. Spell Lvl: 9; Learn Spell: 85%; Max Spells/Lvl: 18; +10% XP
Wisdom 8
Charisma 10 Mx. Hench: 4
Hit Points: 8 (hit points rolled: 2d4+4)
Armour Class: 6
Saving Throws - Paralyzation, Poison or Death Magic XX, Rods, Staff or Wands XX, Petrification or Polymorph XX, Death Magic XX, Spells XX (+1 v. Invocation)
THAC0: 20

Weapon Attacks

Club +0 to hit; 1d6/1d3
Thrown club +2 to hit 1d6/1d3 (range 1/2/3)
Sling -3 to hit; Bullet 1d4+1/1d6+1 (range 5/10/20) Stone 1d4/1d4 (range 4/8/16)


  • Opposed schools: Enchantment/Charm & Conjuration/Summoning
  • Invocation magic: +1 save to resist
  • Invocation magic: Target takes -1 save to resist
  • Learning spells: +15% Invocation, -15% other schools
Spells per day
  • Level 1 General: 2 (used 0) + Invocation: 1 (used 0)
  • Level 1
Name Range Duration AoE Components Casting Time Save Notes
Shield* 0 5 rnds/lvl Special V, S 1 None AC2 vs hand-thrown, AC3 vs. small missiles, AC4 otherwise; only protects against frontal attacks
Colour Spray 0 Inst. 5 ft. x 20 ft. x 20 ft. wedge V, S, M (pinch each red, yellow, blue sand) 1 Special 1d6 creatures in AoE; HD >= min {level, 6} get save vs. Magic
Phantasmal Force 60 yd + 10 yd/lvl Special 400 sq. ft + 100 sq. ft/lvl V, S, M (piece of fleece) 1 special disbelieving illusion rules for save
Jump Touch 1d3 rnds+1/lvl Creature touched V, S, M (grassshopper hind leg, break it) 1 none leap 1/rnd 30' or 10' backwards, landing not guarranteed
Spook 30 ft. Special 1 creature V, S 1 Neg. save each round at -1 per 2 levels until broken
Wall of Fog* 30 yds. 2d4 rnds + 1 rnd/lvl 20 ft. cube + 10 ft cube/lvl V, S, M (dried moss or alga) 1 None reduces vision to 2 ft, incl. infravision

SKINNING Invocation spells:

  • Shield Bidh diathan gam dhìon (Gods protect me)
  • Wall of fog Èadhar agus uisge a-steach don bhalla (Air and water into wall)

N.B. Next spells to get include:

  • Burning Hands, Hold Portal, Magic Missile*, Spider Climb
  • Then: Change Self, Jump, Tenser´s Floating Disc, Ventriloquism

Languages and Proficiencies

Languages: Common, Athernian, Veniri, Ghürnhrm (Dwarvish), Zradi (Gnomish), Snow Elven, Âzhaghû ("Common" for humanoids like orcs, goblins, etc.), Tuath
Weapon Proficiency (next at level 6): Club (non-proficiency penalty -5)
Non-Weapon Proficiency (next at levels 3/6): Etiquette (Cha), Ride Horse (Wis), Swimming (Str), Religion (Wis), Spellcraft (Int), Read/Write Tuath (Int), Forgery 2 (Dex), Ancient History (Int), Disguise 2 (Cha), Direction Sense (Wis)


Clothing 5 lbs
Club 3 lbs
2 Throwing Clubs 6 lbs
Sling -
Sling bullets x39 (0.5lb each) 19.5 lbs
Spell book -
Small pouch 0.5 lb
Hooded lantern 2 lbs
lamp oil 1 lb
Backpack 2 lbs
Alternative set of fine clothes (5 lbs)
Extra lamp oil x 2 (2 lb)
Soap 1 lb
Perfume -
Wineskin 1 lbs
Waterskin 1 lbs
3 wks dry rations 1 lbs
Blanket 3 lbs
5 candles -
Chalk -
Scroll case -
10 sheets paper -
Sewing kit -
Writing ink and quivers -
50 ft silk rope 3 lb
Family Crest Ring (in pouch around neck) -
Bronze Earrings, set with Diamond (small) (value 84 gp)(sown into clothes) -
Silver Ring (finely crafted from silver into the shape of a snake curling around the finger, the eyes made of tiny amber gems, 10gp) -
Total without backpack 52 lbs
Total with backpack 61 lbs

Wealth: see front page

Without backpack: Unencumbered / With backpack: Light

unencumbered: 0-40lbs
light: 41-58lbs
moderate: 59-76lbs
heavy: 77-96lbs
severe: 97-110lbs
Loot stored at home:
Staff (ivory), 5 lbs, 50 gp value | 1 urn of saakh oil (10 gp) | 1 Bolt of fine cloth from Jhon (15 gp) | 1 crate filled with fine pottery from Anida (20 gp) | Silver Necklace (large) (value 5 sp) | Gold earrings (10 gp/pair) | Silver mens ring set with turquoise (3 gp) | bronze arm band (5 gp) | Silver Buckle, set with Aquamarine (value 9 gp)
Loot stored with Fenwalkers:
1 x dwarven broadsword (30 gp) | 3 x dwarven hand-axes (3 gp ea = 9 gp) | 1 x dwarven short sword (30 gp) |1 x dwarven two-handed axe (30 gp)
Brass Pendant, set with Amethyst (value 92 gp)


Ruffini family tree.png

Jean-Claude Doé (aka John Doe)

RE: Names – in Athervon, and in Avis Inia in particular, the nobility would have a very French-inspired name – at least a last name. Just something to get your juices flowing.

Scion of the highly respected Doé family of Avis Inia, the young Jean-Claude was celebrated as the heir to the family titles and estates upon his birth. His father, Baron Clément Doé,II, was a favorite in the Royal Court. He owned a number of small estates in the western-central region of the country, which had rich soil and recently had been found to contain veins of iron and copper in the foothills of the Iron Mountains that lay within them, making him rich as well as flowing vast sums into the Royal Coffers. It was rumored that the King was considering Clément for the title of Vicompte – or, dare it be said, perhaps even Compte?

Clément and his wife Galatea – a daughter of the old and well-respected Laudato House in Tras Veniri – had tried to have a child for years after their marriage, to no avail. They gifted huge sums to the Church, had the estates and bedrooms blessed, but after three years were still childless.

Desperate, Galatea began to secretly visit less reputable sources for help with the problem. Discretely she visited the old women in remote villages, far from the prying eyes and wagging tongues of the city, looking for something – anything – to help her and her husband conceive. But nothing seemed to work.

Just as the situation was seeming hopeless – and with Clément beginning to examine his options to preserve his family’s heritage, much to Galatea’s horror – Galatea was visited by an old woman who asked to speak to her in private. No one knows what was said, but the servants say that the woman brought nothing in with her but her walking stick, and left with nothing more.

Three months later, Galatea announced that she was with child. The family celebrated as had never been seen before, and the Baron rained riches down on the church in gratitude.

Jean-Claude had a normal birth, and for a time, all seemed right within the Doé family.

But as he grew older, Jean-Claude grew into a spoiled child, and from there a rather spoiled young man. His father, granted the title Vicompte of the areas surrounding his original holdings, was away managing the estates for long periods of time. Galatea hire the best tutors and teacher’s money could buy, but they were no replacement for his Father. When he was in the City, Clément would try to set Jean-Claude straight, disciplining him and setting him to difficult and sometimes dirty tasks to try to make him appreciate his station and responsibilities, but Jean-Claude would routinely defy his father and slip away with his friends, with whom he began to engage in all manner of unseemly and ignoble activities.

And then, much to everyone’s surprise, Galatea announced she was with child again. She gave birth to a healthy boy – Bruno Doé, named after Clément’s grandfather. After this, Clément felt he had more leverage – arguments ended with threats that Jean-Claude could be disowned, that Bruno could be named heir to the family’s estates.

A particularly bad episode that threatened the family with scandal - and was cause for the Lord High Chamberlain to summon Clément for a meeting to discuss it – was the final straw. Clément decided to send Jean-Claude away to an Academe located in the Town of Aven Bentois; far from The White City and the innumerable temptations of the Capital city, The Baron felt that perhaps Jean-Claude would finally learn what is was to be a man. Aven Bentois was much closer to The Baron’s estates, which would let him visit more often. He forbade Galatea from accompanying her son, insisting that too much time with only a Woman to guide him had caused him to stray, and that some time away from family in the strict but fair hands of the Charbonnier Academy was their only hope of changing the boy’s ways. Clément swore that Jean-Claude would come back the noble-born man of his bloodline, or he would not come back at all.

Jean-Claude fully intended on escaping and returning to the City, but his Father had cleverly decided to send him by boat most of the way. Until the ship docked at Belis-ar-Weil, Jean-Claude had no way to escape. And once there, he was trundled onto a horse and ridden out of town West, towards Aven Bentois, under the guard of three large and dour men who were not his father’s retainers. For the first time in his life, Jean-Claude felt fear.

Arriving in Aven Bentois, Jean-Claude could barely restrain his loathing of the setting – the place didn’t even have a proper curtain-wall, and it was so small that the Jhonians mixed with proper Athernians, and the Furfeet mixed with everyone. It practically put him off his food!

He was taken to the Academe – a mid-sized compound of ivy-covered buildings on the outskirts of the town. The Master – an aging man named Boulen Aphier – met him at the door and had the servants take him to his room – which he would generously describe as a hovel, with instructions on class times and conduct.

With no money or access to transport, Jean-Claude was trapped. He decided to bide his time until an escape option presented itself. In the meantime, he took what pleasure he could in tormenting the other students at the Academe – most of who were either from families of lower station, or (fie!) not of noble birth at all. As many of them did various chores and duties in consideration for lower tuitions, Jean-Claude would ensure that they earned every penny – his clothes were always the filthiest, his dishes the dirtiest, his room a sty. And when he was assigned a simple task, such as filling inkpots, he would always turn it into another disaster that would require hours of work from his classmates to restore things to normalcy.

He would get frequent letters from his mother, telling him of the events of the day back in the White City, of the parties and events and galas, of all the girls his age who were blooming and looking for husbands – all the things he was missing – as well as how much she missed him. She always ended by admonishing him to attend to his studies and make his father proud, that he could return to her and get on with the job of being the heir to the family fortune.

He had fully intended to take no part in the instructions at the Academe, hoping a lack of seriousness as a student would get him expelled. But he was competitive by nature, and when he could not dominate those around him with his Families money or titles, showing them up in lessons was the next best thing. He was a good student despite himself, and though he started learning for all the wrong reasons, soon enough he realized that it was actually interesting, and that he enjoyed it. He particularly like learning things that others did not know – that others didn’t even know that there was something to know. Obscure, arcane, lost, or banned forms of knowledge excited him the most.

He was looking for a book on ancient religions of the Tuath people in the library. Finding it, he pulled the thick leatherbound book off it’s place in the shelf – it had obviously not been touched in years – when he noticed something that had been placed behind it. It was a small book, bound in some form of greenish-grey, reptilian hide, scaly and remarkably still glossy once he wiped off the thick dust.

The Tuaths forgotten, he opened it carefully. The yellowed pages showed the age of the book, but remarkably, did not crumble or crack as he gently turned them – they were not parchment, or papyrus, or wood, or skin of any creature he had seen. The pages were covered front and back with writing in a language he had not seen, nor could he understand. Interspersed with this assumed form of text were symbols – diagrams of all kinds, some geometric, some depicting forms of human, animal, and what could only be described as monsters or dieties – as well as complex formulae that made no sense to him despite all he had learned at the school.

Hearing someone, he quickly tucked the book into his cloak, and opened the book on the Tuath, feigning interest.

That night, in his room, he opened the book again under candlelight. It mesmerized him. He must find a way to understand it.

Over the next days, he spent little time in his room – if he wasn’t in class, he was in the library. But he never found anything that would help. Frustrated, he finally started opening the pile of letters from his mother. Most was of little interest, though he laughed at the story his mother told of one of her relatives – the daughter of a cousin, married into a noble family of Veniri – who had apparently fallen in with the Wayward Daughters. Her parents sent agents to rescue her, of course, and bring the poor girl to her senses. But instead, the Daughters and the Veniri mercenaries clashed in the streets of Avis Inia – with the girl fighting alongside the Daughters, no less! When it was over, two of the mercenaries lay dead in the streets. It was the most outrageous scandal, causing political turmoil between the Kingdoms, as well as personal scandal to the Veniri noble family. His mother reported the Daughters had apparently fled the City, taking the girl with them. Her family, left with no other choice, did the only sensible thing, and disavowed her, minimizing the scandal as much as possible to preserve the honor & status they had left.

But such diversions brought him little comfort. He always found his thoughts drifting back to the book. What was it?

The clue he needed for his puzzle fell into his lap in the most unexpected way. He was assigned to clean Master Aphier’s office, and was doing it as quickly as possible. While he had never given it a thought, as his genuine curiosity bloomed and his need for knowledge grew, he spent less of his time in attempts to denigrate his classmate – something that they had all noted, but remained silent about lest it change their good fortune.

Dusting the shelves in the office, Jean-Claude leaned forward to reach a high shelf, and his foot caught on a large footstool near the fireplace. He began to fall forward, cursing, landed with a thump face down on the floor, looking into the fireplace.

And seeing one of the designs from the book scratched into one of the bricks there.

He blinked, thinking the fall had confused him.

No, definitely. Hard to see for sure, but definitely there, and definitely the same design.

What did it mean?

Quickly finishing his work, he made and excuse to skip the mid-day meal, and ran out of the building to his room. Locking the door, he found the book and flipped through it, trying to find the design.

There it was, just as he remembered. Surrounded by the text he could still not understand, and around the geometric design, an image that might have been a wave – or possibly a ghost, or perhaps a flame, or just a crazy squiggle drawn by a madman.

He closed the book.

Confused, he was distracted by this for the next few days. He tried volunteering and trading jobs with other students to get the chance to clean the office again, but it took him two weeks (and a number of demeaning oaths to students who were looking to even up for his past behavior) before he was able to.

This time, he came prepared – he brought the book with him, and, again looking to ensure he was alone, closed the door set down before the fireplace, looking first at the brick, then at the page.

He felt something. He wasn’t sure what.

He concentrated. After ten minutes, he was sweating. Nothing was happening, and yet he knew he was on the cusp of something – something important.

The sweat turned cold instantly when he heard the familiar voice behind him.

“Well, you’ll never get it done like that, will you, Master Doé?”

He jumped up, swiftly stuffing the small book into the sleeve of his robe as he turned around. Master Aphier stood in the room – the door still closed. He had not heard it open he was sure. Boulen was looking at him sternly.

He was speechless. His mind raced, trying to think of what to say.

“Don’t bother, young man. There’s nothing you could say I would believe anyway.”

Jean-Claude winced. He anticipated what would happen next – expulsion? Where would his father send him next – a monastery? He shuddred, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Do you want me to show you how it works?”

His eyes opened. Did he hear that right? He blinked.

“Here. No, put the book away, if you study properly, you won’t need it other than as a reminder. Look.”

Boulen faced the fireplace. He drew a deep breath, then began to speak in a low, quiet, guttural voice – somewhat disturbing, to be sure, given how different from his speaking voice it was. The mans hands moved in small gestures as he spoke, and abruptly came together across his chest, snapping his fingers as he did so.

The fireplace immediately erupted into flames – without any logs or kindling or anything to burn ever having been placed into it. Jean-Claude’s jaw dropped as Boulen relaxed, and then extended his hands towards the fire, rubbing them.

“A handy skill, don’t you think?” the man said, looking back over his shoulder at Jean-Claude.

Mezmerized, Jean-Claude listened as Boulen told him of knowledge that had existed since before the First Line of Kings – knowledge that was once used for the good of men, as well as for evil. But since the Restoration of the Line and rise of The Holy Faith, knowledge that had been shunned, banned, and repressed within the Kingdom.

“To our shame and our detriment,” Boulen continued. “This is knowledge that can and should be used to uphold our King and Country – for surely his enemies plan to use it against him.”

Boulen continued. Jean-Claude was a gifted student. He could become a talented scholar and practitioner of this knowledge. But it would come with a price. “Your father can never know, nor can your mother or any of their peers. Were your involvement to be found out, it would be the ruin of your family – your father would be cast down, his titles stripped, and your house would end penniless.”

Boulen looked at the young man eye to eye. “This is not an accident, Jean-Claude; your mother availed herself of these arts in order to conceive you, and this power leaves its mark on those that it touches. No, it is true – I know the woman she employed, a good woman who is discrete and would not speak a word of it to anyone save those that have the best interests of your father and the King at heart. We keep watch over things, gently nudging when needed, but quietly and carefully lest we be discovered.

“You must choose – I will teach you what I can, as well as help you meet others who can teach you more. But you would need to sever your bond with your family – I would need to tell them that you escaped the school, and my men could not track you down. I would have to elaborate about your continued poor behavior and dissolute nature – it will not be a pleasant picture. But it is the only way.”

“What say you?”