Get Rich Or Res Trying
Chaotic Good, Human, Rogue
|Saving Throw||Base Save||Ability Modifier||Magic Modifier||Misc Modifier||Total|
|Disable Device||2||3||Yes||11 (Deft Hands +2, Trapfinding +1)|
|Handle Animal||0||-1||No||Trained Only|
|Sleight Of Hand||1||3||Yes||9 (Deft Hands +2)|
|Stealth||2||3||Yes||9 (Highlander +1/ +2 in hilly areas)|
|Survival||1||2||Yes||7 (Poverty Stricken +1)|
|Use Magic Device||1||-1||Yes||3|
|Deft Hands||You get a +2 bonus on Disable Device and Sleight of Hand skill checks. If you have 10 or more ranks in one of these skills, the bonus increases to +4 for that skill.|
|Two Weapon Fighting||Your penalties on attack rolls for fighting with two weapons are reduced. The penalty for your primary hand lessens by 2 and the one for your off hand lessens by 6.|
|Poverty Stricken||Hamish and his parents lived on a noble’s estate as laborers, poorly compensated. His childhood was tough, and his parents had to make every copper piece count. Hunger was Hamish’s constant companion, and he often had to live off the land or sleep in the wild.||You gain a +1 bonus to Survival checks, and Survival is always a class skill for you.|
|Highlander||Hamish was born and raised in the Eastern Highlands. Predators, gnolls, and worse haunt the Highlands, and he has become something of an expert at evading them.||You gain a +1 trait bonus on Stealth checks. This trait bonus increases to +2 in hilly or rocky areas.|
He knew the guards would recognize him; he was like a little brother to most of them. He grew up there, helping his father and mother on their noble’s estate. He also knew the guards expected him. “Hamish won’t take this lying down, who would?” “He’s a sneaky little bastard. Better just stay close to the master. Make him go through you!”
Hamish peeked into the dining hall from the outside, and then found his tunnel.
“BAH! That dirty ingrate! I taught him everything he knows, gave him every opportunity!”
The guards bit their tongue. This was his house, his rules, and woe be to anyone who crosses him. They didn’t like the prospect of crossing the young former wunderkind of the master, either. Crugretor, the head guard, the one who “took care” of the Nàdarra’s, met a gruesome end while asleep in the guardhouse. Hamish designed that house as the chief engineer, only 16. Apparently through incompetence, the ceiling collapsed while Crugretor was alone. No one really believed Hamish would make the walls so weak, it was too much of a coincidence. Maybe there was some way he forced the collapse? A secret only he knew? The master’s new engineers scoured the estate, everything seemed perfectly sturdy, but why just rig the guardhouse?
“To HELL with him! Why not just do as I asked! Why throw your life away just to protect someone he never met!” He was referring to the nobles from adjoining estates. Hamish was to ambush them during their travels, making it look like a robbery. Hamish refused, not knowing the wrath he, his family, would incur.
“Come with me, stand outside my door!” The master retreated to the lavatory. The sickly, old man had a habit of making room for desert.
The young rogue purposely avoided using the same trick twice. He didn’t envision needing to deploy these traps, per se, he just liked designing them, and wanted to develop as many unique traps as possible. He curiosity was always encouraged by his master, who supplied him with the library to gain an education.
Hamish waited for the bastard to waddle his way towards the toilet. Not too close, the toilet rested over a sequestered pit within the cellar that he removed access to, in case he ever needed to be here. Hamish grabbed hold of the string attached to the pin securing the hatch, and the master plummeted like a ragdoll. Hamish had little time, but he had never killed anyone with his own two hands. While he held his former master to the dirt floor of that cellar, one hand gripped to his throat to prevent any sounds from escaping, he gripped his dagger. Hands shaking, half from rage, half from dread, he slowly withdrew the blade from the concealed sheath. The wide-eyed master struggled, but all he could do was sear Hamish with his eyes, no writhing from this decrepit man could buck his assailant. Hamish tried to keep eye contact, not managing it for more than a moment at a time. His lips arced and disappeared. Tears welling. The dagger tip stalled at the old man’s chin. Hamish could stare into his eyes now, but the hate disappeared from the master. Confused, Hamish focused away. The master was smiling. Hamish dug in. The smile disappeared, along with the eyes.
Hamish lingered for a moment, numb. Hearing knocking from above, he ran. He ran back down the tunnel, out into the night, out of this place. Still numb. “Aren’t I supposed to feel something?”