Arin Valen

Level 1 Half-Elf Fighter (Battle Master)

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STR
16 (+3)
DEX
14 (+2)
CON
14 (+2)
INT
12 (+1)
WIS
10
CHA
10

Defense

Armor Class 18 (Chain Mail with Shield)
Hit Points 12 (1d10+2 +2)
Speed 30 ft.

Proficiencies & Skills

Saving Throws Strength, Constitution
Skills Arcana +3, Stealth +4, Athletics +5, Deception +2, Perception +2, Persuasion +2

Character Information

Arin Valen grew up on the edge of two worlds: a bustling coastal city where human merchants jostled with elven courtiers, and the backstreets where quick hands and quicker words could feed a hungry family. Born to a human sailor and an elven wanderer, Arin learned to speak both languages before he could tie a boot lace. His childhood was a balance of charm and necessity: he talked his way past guards to fetch messages for disgruntled sailors, and he pilfered coins from pockets that believed themselves safe in a crowded market. As the city grew, so did the danger; a petty theft turned into a brush with a gang that used fear as a weapon. He escaped, barely, but the experience left him with two truths: trust is a currency you spend carefully, and strength matters more than luck when the law is on the side of the powerful.

He joined a local fighters' hall, seeking discipline and a way to turn his nimble fingers into reliable steel. The Battle Master discipline appeals to him: it rewards cunning, training, and the ability to read a fight like a map. He still keeps ties to the streets—useful contacts and a few old mercenary friends—but now he fights with a code, hoping to protect those who can’t protect themselves and to uncover a rumor of a prized ring that might prove his mother's past was more than sorrow and silence. He steps lightly, but when the bell rings, he becomes a shield between danger and the innocent, and a whisper of a smile is all the warning he grants to the bad. Arin has learned to measure a moment by its silence—the beat before a strike, the way a guard shifts weight, the subtle glances from a stranger who might be a friend or foe. He carries a faded photograph tucked in his belt: his mother’s wavering smile, a reminder of promises made long ago. The ring he hunts, they say, was forged by a guild master who vanished into the sea during a failed uprising. If Arin can locate it and learn its truth, he might finally reconcile the halves of his own soul: the elf-friend who longs for beauty and the street-born human who trusts few but acts with undeniable courage.

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