Warrior Monk of Osiris

Name S’Erith
Rank 8th Level
Race Eandroth

S’Erith is a prime example of an Eandroth Adult, which is to say he has muscles on his muscles. He usually wears his white dress robes with the flail and crook symbol of his god, Osiris, on his left breast.

The main distinguishing features of S’Erith are the purple stripes that runs diagonally from his either side of his nose past the outside corner of either eye and up to his scalp. It set him apart even as an adolescent making him a very attractive mate.

His skin is a pebbled red-brown over all, although much of it is always covered by his attire.

While he knows how to use weapons, he finds that he is best served by using his hands when diplomacy fails.

Picture from Syreene. Full size picture can be found here.

HT 5’2" IQ 16 (+2%) Save vs Magic +6 Strike +7
WT 167lbs ME 13 Save vs Psionics Parry +10
PPE 153 MA 13 Save vs Illusion +7 Dodge +10
HP 42 PS 30 Save vs poison +6 Roll +6
SDC 144 PP 24 Save vs horror +3 Pull +3
ISP 26 PE 26 Save vs coma/death +22% Initiative
Exp. 51,626 PB 10 Save vs Disease +7 Damage +15
Sex Male SPD 27 Save vs Possession +4 Disarm
Birthday 8/4/46 (63) Critical 18,19,20
HTH: Martial Attacks 6
Alignment Principled
AR 12

101 Western Empire <> 0 Island of Bizantium <> 0 Eastern Territory
0 Timiro Kingdom <> 0 Wolfen Empire

Kick Attacks: Damage Notes
Karate 2D6
Jump Kick 6D6 Auto-critical. Uses all attacks for a melee. Must be used as first attack in a melee.
Flying Jump Kick 4D6 Auto-critical. Uses all attacks for a melee. Must be used as first attack in a melee. Attack lands during the second attack of the melee.
Triping Leg Hook none Knockdown. Can’t be parried.
Backward Sweep none Knockdown to target in the Rear. Can’t be parried.
Snap Kick 1D6 Good for confined spaces.
Crescent Kick 2D4+2
Weapon Proficiencies Level Acquired Strike Parry Thrown
Targeting 1 +4
Staff 1 +3 +2
Paired: Short Staves 7
Weapon Damage Range
Iron Staff 2D6+2
Dagger 1D6 40’
Double Blade Knife 2D4 40’
Staff of Cobras 2D6 + 2D6 per cobra
PS 32-35 5d6 + (17to20)
PS 36-40 6d6 + (21to25)
PS 41-42 1d6*10 + (26to27)
Armor AR SDC
Studded Leather 13 38
OCC Skills Base % OCC B+ Start Current Total % Secondary Skills Base % Start Current Total %
Horsemanship:Exotic 30/20+5 30 1 7 92/82% WP Targeting 1 7
Wilderness Survival 30+5 45 1 7 98% WP Staff 1 7
Land Navigation 30+4 40 1 7 92% Culture/Customs Baalgor Waste 30+5 1 7 62%
Dowsing 20+5 15 1 7 67% Lore:Undead 25+5 1 7 57%
Track & Trap Animals 20/30+5 15 1 7 67/77% Legal Knowledge 25+5 2 7 52%
Language:Eandroth 98 1 7 98% Lore: Geomancy 25+5 2 7 52%
Language: Western 40+5 20 1 7 92% Math:Advanced 45+5 5 7 57%
Language: Elven 40+5 20 1 7 92% Lore:Millenium Tree 25+5 5 7 37%
Literacy: Elven 30+5 15 1 7 77%
Math Basic 45+5 20 1 7 97%
Climbing 40/30+5 10 1 7 82/72%
Lore:Demon & Monsters 25+5 15 1 7 72%
Lore: Religion 30+5 20 1 7 82%
Swimming 40+5 10 1 7 82%
Play Dwarven Pipes(pro) 25+5 35 1 7 92%
Begging 20+3 1 7 40%
Deep Meditation 20+6 1 7 58%
Body Building 1 7
Running 1 7
Wrestling 1 7
HTH:Martial 1 7
OCC Related Skills Base % OCC B Start Current Total %
Play Dwarven Pipes (above) 1 7
Teamster 35+5 10 1 7 77%
Sewing 25+5 15 1 7 72%
Seamanship 22+4 10 1 7 58%
Rope Works 30+5 10 1 7 72%
Leather Working 25+5 15 1 7 72%
Boxing 4 7
Gymnastics 4 7
Balance 30+5 4 7 47%
Parallel Bars/Rings 30+3 4 7 41%
Back Flip/Somersault 40+5 4 7 57%
Boat Building 25+5 7 7 27%
ID Sea Life 27+4 7 7 29%
Special Skills

Eternal Clarity<>Inner Fire<>Spirit Strike

1. Inner Fire:
Cost: 15 PPE
Duration: 5 minutes/level
Restriction: Wearing no armor
Natural Armor Rating of 14.
Parry while unarmed.
+70 SDC (35 +5 per level), any damage done to the Monk comes from this bonus SDC first
+2D6 to P.S. and his Strength becomes Supernatural.
Only effective with a single weapon.

2. Eternal Clarity:
Cost: 10 PPE
Duration 5 minutes/level
Restrictions: Can’t use with Inner Fire
See invisible beings
See things with high stores of P.P.E.
+7 to save vs magic, psionics, and poisons on top of any P.E. and M.E. bonuses
Base psychic save becomes a 12
Monk takes half damage from all sources of magic and psionics, including magic weapons.

3. Spirit Strike (special):
Cost: 2d6 PPE
Restrictions: Punch, Kick, Staff, Spear attack. Only against Dragons, Elementals, Demons, Supernatual Beings, and Beings of Magic.
Triple normal damage.

Ceremonial white robe, Sandals
Brooch of Osiris (flail & crook crossed in x), left breast
Isis ring of CrIsis, right hand ring finger
Water Skin(Right Side), Wooden Cross(On Leather Thong on Left Side)
SMALL SACK(next to water skin)
5 vials of Holy Water, Brooch of Osiris (flail & crook crossed in x)
Glaive map pack from Horoth Wavestrider.
Six Wooden Spikes, Small Mallet, 30’ Rope, Set of traveling clothes (summer), Grey traveling robe w/hood, Books 1, 2 & 3 of CrIsis


An Eandroth, as I am, begins life completely ruled by their hormones. For the first five years of my life, I grew quickly. It was an idyllic time, my childhood, filled with play and learning. On my six birthday something changed in me.

I felt the drive within me build as the sun rose into the sky. What had once been my compatriots and friends were now my rivals. I found myself driven to best them so that I might propagate my genes.

By the time I came back to myself I was a man and would never be the same again. I’d killed fourteen others in order to mate. Their blood still calls out to me.

Twice a year the drive took me, removing all control from me. It stole my reason leaving me nothing but a rutting animal. I hated myself. I hated the females who taunted me. Everything about this world was wrong to me.

The longer I lived, the more I disliked myself. The longer I lived, the greater my pain. Not physical pain, but emotional.

The rage built inside me, following the biological imperatives of my race. Then, one day, I could not stand the sight of my fellows. All that could help me was eating, and I ate to drown out the hate that I felt toward the members of my tribe.

I put on muscle and height. It wasn’t long before I realized what had happened. I’d become a rogue. The hate I felt for what my own races had done to me, the emotion of it all, told me that I would need to leave if I didn’t plan on killing every one of my tribe.

I left.

The pain in my heart from the many I’d killed during my life weighed down upon me. I thought, briefly, of ending my life. It wasn’t serious, but it did make me think. I needed peace.

The exact path that my journey took was long and circuitous. I was half dead and delirious when I stumbled into Shandala.

It was years before they accepted me into training, and years more before I was ready to venture forth, but I had mastered the beast within, at least to a degree.
It still yearns to break forth and destroy…is that what you want to hear?

The more fool you.

Expectations are such that you will always be surprised when reality sets in. Reality has a nice way of destroying our expectations.

I began writing my journal when I was but a novice in the order. I thought it would give me clarity in my journey to dwell upon the past and to record it in its entirety. I thought it would help to express these feelings in print.

This was an erroneous thought.

I have since come to realize that it is not the expression of feelings that causes them to change but the control over those same feelings.

My Silonar, Ood, is capable of expressing his feelings. If I wish to be a simple beast, then I could be just like Ood. I choose to be other than a simple beast.

This is not to say that emotion does not have its place. Anger channeled in battle can lead you out the other side. It is not what emotions you have that is the problem, but which emotions rule you.
I found this journal upon my most recent return to Shandala. The leather cover was cracked and the print faded. It has been lying in an unused room for more than twenty years. As the youth was foolish, so was the adult.

I am still one who considers himself foolish. I look at the mayfly existences of those around me in this monastery and sigh. They only begin on the road to true wisdom and then they burn out.

My life is a dichotomy of the fast and the slow. So quick to reproductive maturity. So slow to mental maturity. So quick to leave my people. So slow to realize I was the problem.

It was my friend and fellow novice, now ancient by human terms, that really brought home how slow I was to mature.

He is a Master of our Art. Fifty three years old. In the thirty-eight years since we first donned the Gi he has become a man to be revered in the monastery, and I am still barely an apprentice.

I think it is time that I truly began to live. I go to pray in the temple of my god for guidance into what I should do next.