A short-tempered shifter with significant memory loss and occasional poor impulse control


Byrne (Medium Folk Soldier/4): Str 18 (25 when shifted), Dex 15, Con 14 (19 when shifted), Int 10, Wis 12, Cha 6; Sz M (1×1, Reach 1); Speed 45 ft. ground; Init. +4; Def 15; Vitality 64 (92 when shifted); Wounds 14 (19 when shifted); Saves: Fort. 4, Ref. 3, Will 5

Skills: Acrobatics 9, Athletics 7, Intimidate 7, Survival 5

Qualities and Feats: Enlightened Acrobatics, Achilles Heel (Silver), Darkvision, Reviled, Two-Hit Combo, Rage Supremacy, Berserk Stance , Accurate, Charge Basics, Charge, Razorclaw, Natural Ferocity, Fortunes of War 1, Parry Trick, Ragged Wound, Salt the Wound

Attacks: BAB 4; Unshifted Claw Attack (2d6+3 lethal; threat 20); Shifted Claw Attack (2d6+7 lethal; threat 18 – 20; Qualities: AP4); Tetsubo Attack (2d6+3 lethal; threat 20; Qualities: Massive)

Legend: 2
Reputation: 9
Renown: 1 (Heroic: 1, Military: 0, Noble: 0)

Holdings: Sharn Safehouse; Scale: 2; Guests: 5; Upgrades: Escape Passage


998YK: For most of the population of Eberron, the Last War lasted a lifetime. For Byrne it lasted 2 years.

The memories are as vivid today as they were only a few years ago. The pain pushes back the darkness. Grey creeps in at the edges, and then, a split of brilliance. Ash and dust cover everything. Then the horror of not knowing begins. Where am I? Who am I?

Byrne awakened on the battlefield at the edge of Cyre, dead warriors as far as the eye could see, and a roiling wall of grey cloud and burning brightness that stretches the length of the eastern horizon… Cyre burns.

These dead… They’re all shifters. Like me. I’ve never known so many to… act… together.

The dead warriors surrounding him are all shifters. Dead warriors of Breland, mauled and savaged by claw, tusk, tooth, and talon lay beyond the shifters to the west. Even a battle novice could tell the Breland battle line had been broken and the shifters were plunging deep into the territory beyond.

What is this around my neck? Arrrrrrrrrgh! Hooks in flesh…tearing…burns brain… can feel needles slipping… buried deep… Aaaahhhhhh!!!!! The pain is going… what IS this thing?

Every dead shifter as far as the eye can see wears a collar like the one in Byrne’s hand, only theirs are complete. Shivered needles driven deep into the flesh of the neck and skull, and flesh hooks buried deep to keep it in place. Normal shifter eyes are changed. The entire eye is solidly black and glossy, and their faces are a rictus snarl and what looks to be feedback burns surround the collars on each of them.

A flash of blade pain! Roar at him, plunge your talons into his jaw and rip it off! Kill the Breland meat! Feel the rush of blood and the torn jugular…

The collar in Byrne’s hand is split and the cut corresponds with a vicious blade tear to the face, neck and shoulder that will, after healing, become a vicious scar. He begins running.

Loping into the west with blood running down his body, Byrne spares one last look at his birthplace. Despair wells within him… Born into this world on a field of battle, at the death of a nation, and with no memory of anything before.

Byrne appears to be in his later 20’s, and has spent a few years living as a ranger in the Eldeeen Reaches. Following rumor and tale, he found he his way to the town of Wolf’s Paw and settled there as a Protector. Though fairly young (discounting his years lost before the war), Byrne has successfully tracked and returned to justice several outlaws. The last one he captured took him beyond the boundaries of the Eldeen Reaches to the Aundair city of Passage where he took the House Orien Lightening Rail to the Breland metropolis of Sharn. Returning the outlaw and collecting his fee, Byrne noticed a dwarven citizen dressed as an artificer appraising the scars about his neck, but lost him to the unaccustomed wilds of the City of Towers. Now Byrne knows that the answer is out there. And he wants to find them…

In Sharn, Byrne found the city to be too loud, too smelly, and too close. One night he drank too much and displaying a heroic lack of impulse control started a fight that would have probably cost him is life had it not been for the smooth talking intervention of Captain Rhett d’Lyrandar the captain of the rogue (sort of) Airship, The Windblown. Byrne, feeling an obligation to the man who had saved his life, signed up as a crew member straight away.


The Rod of Seven Parts madjackdeacon