<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Eldon, The Ghost Who Laughs</strong></span><br/>TN Male Badass Halfling Stalker (Vigilante) 5 / Shadowdancer 1<br/><br/>(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/ef/38/ab/ef38ab57dcbf6fca16e2369fe1f2e7cd.jpg)<br/><br/>http://plothook.net/RPG/profiler/view.php?id=14051<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Background</div><div class="spoiler_body">Many years ago, there was a cheerful young halfling by the name of Eldon Firetongue, known for the razor's edge of his wit and the cheerful, if good-natured, abandon he employed it with. Eldon was a good lad, full of cheer and heart, and it was inevitable that he would draw the eyes and hearts of the halfling lasses that he met. Only one drew his eyes in return, though, by the name of Eloise. They were a perfect couple - well-matched in mind and pleasing to each other in body; Eldon was an accomplished tailor with a solid career, and Eloise came from a good family happy to see her safe and provided for. When Eldon woke on his wedding day, he was giddy with anticipation, and decided to calm his nerves with a walk to the orchards outside of town, intent on a basket of apples to bring back as a gift to his new bride.<br/><br/>The shouts that whispered  across the fields as he plucked fruit might have been cries of joy, but the thick columns of smoke that billowed from the village were not the smoke of celebratory bonfires. When he realized there was trouble, Eldon rushed home at all speed, but was too late for anything but mourning. The marauder band had swept in on horses out of nowhere, killing and looting with reckless abandon, before galloping away with an inferno at their backs.  Eldon buried Eloise, still in the wedding dress he had not seen till that day, and the fire that had warmed his tongue turned to ice. Having never known his would-be wife, he could not simply let her go, but the realms of the dead were no place for ordinary men. Now grimly determined, Eldon sought out isolated monasteries and immersed himself in the teachings of the assassin-monks that lived there. He learned the ways of the bow and the blade, and the many means by which the darkness could be used to bring death to one's enemies. His was a grim quest, a self-imposed penance for failing on the day that mattered most to him. He would travel the world, hunting a route that would lead him to the realm of Melfia. It was said that The Inevitable One would not begrudge the souls of those who had died before their destined time, and his sweet Eloise was nothing if not a soul taken too early. He would find the realms of death, and seek his beloved's freedom - and if the goddess of death would not freely give up Eloise's spirit, then Eldon would steal it from her instead.<br/><br/>Yet he knew the gates of death would not be easy to find, nor lightly guarded, and first he would test himself against the greatest and most dangerous foes the world had to offer. Either they would reveal the secrets he sought, or killing them would hone his skill further. And wherever he went, he smiled, preserving his betrothed's memory in the laughter she treasured so much. His smile took him to the timeless glades of the Summer Sidhe, where his skill at archery won the favor of the Faerie Queens and an enchanted quiver to hold his arrows. His laughter led him to the feasting halls of the corsair lords of Mortelheim, besting a dozen pirates in single combat to the death in search of a clue regarding the identities of the raider band responsible for his loss. When the Tyrant King of the Smoking Mountain was found dead in his bedchambers in the middle of a hundred loyal soldiers, it was said the corpse held an arrow clutched in its fist. When the fortress of Silver Peak was besieged by ogres and giants, a mysterious stranger shot an arrow with a note attached from the highest tower to the army garrison half a mile away in the valley, summoning relief in the nick of time. He was everywhere, and he was nowhere, seemingly already with one foot on either side of the grave. A phantom, with a gleaming arrowhead in the night and a quiet chuckle that heralded one's doom. A ghost, laughing without humor in perpetual mourning for the fallen.<br/><br/></div></div><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Race</div><div class="spoiler_body">Small Size (0 RP)<br/>Normal Speed (0 RP)<br/>Standard Language (0 RP) - Common, Halfling<br/>Advanced Ability Scores (4 RP) +2 Str, +2 Dex, +2 Con, +4 Int, -2 Cha<br/>Lucky, Lesser (2 RP)<br/>Swift as Shadows (3 RP)<br/>Bonus Feat: Dodge (2 RP)<br/>Bonus Feat: Mobility (2 RP)<br/></div></div>