Your fat furry friend with the beautiful smile. - Has goon off camera due to extended player absence


Grin, level 4
Razorclaw Shifter, Hunter

Str 12, Con 10, Dex 21, Int 10, Wis 15, Cha 10.

AC: 20 Fort: 15 Reflex: 19 Will: 16
HP: 37 Surges: 6 Surge Value: 9

+1 To all Defenses, Attack, and Damage.

Acrobatics +16, Athletics +8, Dungeoneering +9, Perception +9, Stealth +14

Arcana, Bluff, Diplomacy, Endurance, History, Intimidate, Religion, Streetwise: +1
Heal, Insight, Nature: +3
Thievery: +6

City Shifter (Acrobatics +2)

Archery Style: Crossbow Expertise
L1: Wep. Proficiency, Superior Crossbow
L2: Hidden Sniper
L4: Wild Senses

At-will Attacks: Aimed Shot, Clever Shot, Rapid Shot
At-will Stances: Pouncing Lynx, Dancing Serpent
Encounter: Disruptive Shot x2, Razorclaw Shifting
Daily: Stalker’s Mist

Watchful Rest, Ambush Expertise, Wilderness Tracker
Mourning After (Alchemical Superior Crossbow), and 60x Bolts.
Leather Armor
Lute, Rosin & Extra Strings
Misc. Mundane Items


Avuncular, mirthful, irrepressible, incorrigible; the funny uncle, rather than responsible father or long-suffering brother. His confidence is seldom shaken by romantic or other rejections; frankly, he’s a little bit thick, but Grin is observant and not above the occasional bout of folksy wisdom. Not as cynical as he might sometimes like to appear.

Grin is, first of all, fat and short. A heavy black hussar moustache, a well-trimmed black beard ornamented with a gold ring. Usually richly dressed in silks and velvets, in purples and deep blues, but frequently has particles of food or drops of wine on the cuffs and belly.

Grin’s most prized possessions is his hip flask.
His second most prized possession, however, is his crossbow; while the gears and knobs that allow it such fine adjustment are shining and new, the body of the weapon is blackened, aged wood, save for the stock, which is formed of a single piece of ivory; the stock is hollow, but seldom empty, as one never knows when a thirst emergency might occur. Intricate carvings along its length represent a pastoral winter scene, with bare trees and a horse-drawn sledge being pursued by wolves.

Grin spent his youth as a runner, usually ignorant enough about the contents of his packages to stay more-or-less on the side of the law if stopped; he was quick and effective, able to scramble up walls and vault market stalls or back-alley obstructions with ease. His mother, Half-tooth Merta, began as a whore in the lower levels, then moved up to the Firelight district and began calling herself a ‘courtesan’; she was able to finance a shift in status with money extorted from uptower clients who wouldn’t want it known they frequented a shifter girl.
Her unusually brutal murder freed Grin from his obligations to her (a welcome change) but still upset him terribly, especially as he had often warned her that blackmail was a dangerous business (and concluded that his predictions had proved true). The event also brought him into contact with the guard, and their captain, with whom he formed a bond, as few others seemed to care what had happened.
Presently, he makes enough money to afford a squalid apartment and drink and sausages by performing as an acrobat-comedian and stage sharpshooter, a combination of prat-falling absurdity and (very) surprising grace. He is, however, on the lookout for other opportunities.

Ultimately, Grin seeks to solve the mystery of his mother’s murder, spit in the eye of the nobles who used her but would never respect her, and laugh at the church that made his people a hunted few in most lands of Eberron.
Along the way, he’s hoping to find love and sex, in roughly equal measure. A certain amount of riches, to aid him in this quest and keep him in silks, would not go amiss.


Sharn, Syrania, and More Architeuthis