<div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Simon</strong></span></div><div align="center"><sub>6th level Human binder</sub></div><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Biography</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div align="center">Simon grew up the whipping boy for some Nobles spoiled son in none other then the city of splendors,Waterdeep;His parents having given him up in exchange for forgiveness of their debt to him the son seemed to delight getting in trouble to make Simon suffer, taking delight in the wiping his proxy endured. The only thing that made it worth while was the library. Whenever Simon could he would slip away from the fat foppish son and steal into the library. The father being an avid collector of magical tomes, despite the fact that Simon was sure that the man never once read anything more the the Daily business report or something like that.As he grew up the time he spent in the library reading what books he could get his hands on. His life was not all torture though, as a whipping boy he was educated with the son(he figures he got more out of it then the noble did) and was dressed and fed well, still he longed for the days he could leave.<br/><br/>As the years progressed he learned what he could, and found he could spend more time in the library then when he was younger. Still the son found ways to make his life hell. It was all worth it when the lord acquired the one book that would change his life. Old and tattered the noble had only bought it because of how high it was priced. It introduced Simon to a form of magic he had never read about before, about spirits that existed somewhere beyond the realms. He spent years studying that book until one night he finally made contact.<br/><br/>"I call upon you Naberius, The Grinning Hound. I am the vessel ready to be filled. Grant to me your power and I shall host your being so that you once again my experience Life." he intoned, his words seemed to echo in the darkness of his room. A few heart beats passed and he thought he had failed once again.<br/><br/>Then a noise caught his ear, a flapping of wings and seemingly out of the darkness a black crane swooped above the seal to falter then crash down upon it seemingly dead. Simons breath caught in his throat, had he done it, had he actually made contact? he felt a presence, like some huge beast was lurking just beyond where he could see. Then the night seemed to part around the beast as it stepped into the circle. A great hound, which upon its shoulders sat 3 great heads. The center head and the right one began to tear the flesh of crane as the left one spoke.<br/><br/>"Who has called my name? and requested my power?" he asked Hoarsely. Simon swallowed hard and Spoke his Name. The beast regarded him for a moment, its eyes staring into his, staring through him for what seemed like an eternity."Very well, Host me and i shall grant you power"<br/><br/>With that the beast faded with the seal and Simon felt a new rush of power <em>"Do not disappoint."</em> spoke the vestige in his mind. "I won't" he responded out loud, surprised by how deep and grating his voice became. <br/><br/>That night the Nobles Son left the house, he was questioned once about where he was going and why he sounded different, but it was a simple matter of telling them he had just come down with something and was on his way out to see a healer. How surprised they were when the next morning the Son showed no recollection of his midnight excursion to a healer and even more strange that Simon could not be found.<br/><br/></div> </div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Morality &amp; Sexuality</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div align="center">Simon tries to generally be a good person. He helps out when and where he can, offering his services to those that can pay and those that just need it. He has little tolerance of those that would beat or abuse a child or someone grossly weaker then themselves. On a few occasions he had gotten himself in trouble standing up for those that could not or would not stand up for themselves. He has been called many names, some even call for his blood before they get to know him. However he has found solace in the casual worship of Mystra, goddess of the weave. After all does not all magic work through her whether divine or arcane. Would it not make sense that the entities that he parleys with draw from that same source?  <br/><br/>In times where he feels just how cold the wind is, and needs the warmth of another living being against his skin Simon has sought comfort in the arms of both Men and Women. After all, the world is large and to people like him it can be cruel. it's better to take what comfort you can from the people that offer. </div></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Statblock</div><div class="spoiler_body"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;"><strong>Simon</strong> (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=922645)</span><br/>Male Ng Human Binder, <strong>Level</strong> 6, <strong>Init</strong> +4, <strong>HP</strong> 55/55, <strong>Speed</strong> 30/20<br/><strong>AC</strong> 20, <strong>Touch</strong> 13, <strong>Flat-footed</strong> 18, <strong>Fort</strong> +9, <strong>Ref</strong> +5, <strong>Will</strong> +7, <strong>Base Attack Bonus</strong> 4   <br/><strong>  +1 Bastard Sword </strong> +7 (1d10+2, 19-20/x2)<br/><strong>Focalor vestige: Ref Half Dc17 Lightning Strike (-) </strong> - (3d6, -)<br/><strong>1 target, blinds/ Dc 17 fort negates Focalors breath (must wait 5 rounds before I can use it again) </strong> - (-, -)<br/><strong>  +2 breastplate</strong> (+7 Armor, +2 Dex, +1 Misc)<br/><strong>Abilities</strong> Str 14, Dex 14, Con 16, Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 19<br/><strong>Condition</strong> None </div></div>