Sweetlick McTango

Elven Cleric of Avandra

Description:
Tier Choice
Heroic Class Cleric of Avandra
Paragon Path Radiant Servant (planned)
Epic Destiny Demigod (planned)
Stat Value Bonus
STR 13 +1
CON 13 +1
DEX 14 +2
INT 8 -1
WIS 19 +4
CHA 15 +2
Calculated Stat Value
Max HP 55
Bloodied 27
AC 23
FORT 15
REF 17
WILL 20
Healing Surges 8
Surge Value 13
Equipment Slot Equipment Name
Weapon 1 Mace
Weapon 2 Dagger
Weapon 3 Longbow
Armor Imposter’s Scale Armor +2
Shield Light Shield
Implement Symbol of the Holy Nimbus +2
Head Slot Reading Spectacles
Neck Slot Healer’s Brooch +1
Miscellaneous Ritual Book
Adventurer’s Kit
Feat Level Feat Name
Level 1 Shield Proficiency (Light)
Level 2 Armor Proficiency (Scale)
Level 4 Implement Expertise (Holy Symbol)
Level 6 Bardic Dilettante
Power Type Power Name Power Quote
At-Will Astral Seal Quick! Hit it!
At-Will Sacred Flame May the light of Avandra toast thy face.
Encounter Daunting Light Basic laser of doom coming at ya.
Encounter Shield Bearer Stay next to that guy!
Encounter Elven Accuracy I call do-over.
Encounter Divine Fortitude Now you’ve really gone and done it.
Encounter Turn Undead Wait your turn, zombie.
Encounter Healing Word I said the magic word.
Daily Beacon of Hope Even my heals have skills.
Daily Spiritual Weapon Almost as good as mind bullets.
Daily Majestic Word Bardic healing goes down smooth.
Utility Spirit of Healing Don’t worry, it’s a friendly ghost.
Utility Life Transference You owe me BIG time.
Skill Training Skill Quote
Diplomacy Why fight when you can convince them to surrender?
Heal Doctor Sweetlick at your service.
Insight Vigilant minds want to know.
Perception Don’t worry guys. Nothing gets past me.
Religion My will always strong and my faith never lost.
Bio:

“Sweetlick McTango,” the lieutenant shouted at the group of elves huddled in the streets of Fallcrest.

Sweetlick raised his heroic head and spoke in his heroic voice, “That’s Mister Sweetlick McTango to you, good sir.”

Scattered chuckles of amusement emerged from the group, but the armored officer looking at the group was very very unamused. Organizing parties to patrol the King’s Road was nothing new for the lieutenant, and neither was being annoyed. Year after year, there was always one new recruit who managed to irritate the man to no end.

“So, I guess you’re the smart ass of the group,” the man asked as his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. With knuckles turning white and face turning red, he continued through clenched teeth, “Is that right, Mister McTango?” Intimidation was a very useful in this business.

Sweetlick stepped to the front of the group to meet the general face to face. After a deep overexagerated bow, Sweetlick knuckled his forehead and replied, “Yes, sir! Absolutely, sir! And may I say that the rumors of your slow wit are completely unjustified, sir!”

And with that, Sweetlick was forever banned from the King’s army. The verbal bashing he received was nearly as painful as the swift kick in the butt he acquired, both courtesy of the outraged lieutenant upon Sweetlick’s dishonorable discharge. It was no accident that Sweetlick irritated the man, though it was lucky that he happened to be paired with the right officer on the right day. For the first time in his life, Sweetlick tasted freedom, and it tasted mighty fine. Finally, he was free to find adventure the way he saw fit.

Reaching into his pocket, Sweetlick pulled out a coin and began flipping it into the air and catching it. Over and over he did this as he walked. The end over end gracefulness of the coin helped him to think as he spoke softly to himself, “Forgive me for my rudeness, father, but I saw no other way. If only you were here to offer guidance.”

Aimlessly walking along the streets of Fallcrest and systematically flipping his coin, Sweetlick recalled the promise he had made to his dying father back home. His father was none other than Aladar McTango, great elven warrior of Harken Forest, defender of the King’s Road. While protecting a large caravan of traders ambushed by Daggerburg goblins, Aladar was mortally wounded. It was the largest goblin raiding party the elves had ever seen, and it was Aladar that turned the tide of battle that defeated the goblins.

On his death bed, Aladar took Sweetlick’s hand and spoke, “I am sorry, son.”

“For what, father?” Sweetlick said surprised.

“Only at the brink of death do I understand your heart,” his father replied. It was no secret that the two did not get along. Sweetlick’s free spirit and prankster tendancies never seemed to sit well with his father.

Aladar continued with tearful eyes, “I know you are unhappy here. Your spirit is too big for this place. You feel as if you are in a prison, enslaved to your father’s fate. Free yourself, Sweetlick. Free yourself and be happy.”

The lump in Sweetlick’s throat grew until he could no longer swallow. Every word his father spoke was truth. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he gripped his father’s hand more tightly. “I want to make you happy, father. I want to make you proud.”

Aladar’s eyes pierced deep into his Sweetlick’s soul as he spoke, “You are my happiness. You are my pride. You are my hope. You are my life.”

As Sweetlick felt Aladar’s grip fading, his father’s final words resonated in his head, “Promise to follow your heart, Sweetlick. Free yourself, and I will be at peace.”

“I promise,” Sweetlick mouthed to himself, then he stumbled on a uneven cobblestone. His body went numb for a moment as his conciousness warped back to the busy streets of Fallcrest. The coin fell from Sweetlick’s grasp and bounced up the stairs of the Moonsong Temple and rolled inside. After the momentary shock of seeing a coin bounce up 10 steps of stairs, Sweetlick gave chase inside the temple and watched the coin roll between the footsteps of the various temple visitors as if dodging every boot and sandal. Bumping into several people and offering pardon after pardon, Sweetlick eventual caught up to the coin as it fell flat in front of a shrine. He grabbed the coin and glanced at the shrine. It was a statue of Avandra with the inscription “God of Change.”

“How appropriate,” Sweetlick amused. He flipped the coin onto the foot of the shrine and said, “Keep the change.”

As Sweetlick took a smiling moment to delight in his pun, he realized that the coin he flipped was standing on its edge at the foot of Avandra’s statue.

“What the,” he began, then the coin rolled off the statue and landed flat on the floor again. The coin drifted further away from his mind as his thoughts began to collapse upon themselves. Just above the coin, inscribed on the shrine were words of Avandra’s delights: Trade, Travel, Adventure, Frontier. But the one word that held Sweetlick’s gaze so forcefully that his body began to tremble sat carved in stone just above the coin.

“Freedom.”

Sweetlick McTango

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