Samuel "Deadeye" McGraw

Write the first paragraph of your page here.

Samuel "Deadeye" McGraw
Samuel “Deadeye” McGraw (year of the broken sword – present) is a Human Artificer currently practicing his craft with a group of adventurers. He gained the nickname “Deadeye” in his town after going undefeated in many shooting competitions. It is said that his pistol is enchanted to never miss. His dedication to religious scripture is noted by his “Book of Miracles”  which he uses to perform miracles in the name of Pelor.

Character Information
Name:  Samuel "Deadeye" McGraw

Class:  Artificer

Deity:  Pelor

Alignment:  Chaotic Good

Race:  Human

Gener:  Male

The Early Years
Samuel grew up in a small village along the main trade road between Ash and Basenga. His parents, Tim and Karen McGraw, were cooks in the town tavern and brought in a healthy living due to the many trade caravans passing through. Growing up was definitely an experience for young Samuel. The many types of people passing through his parents’ inn caused him to question tradition much earlier than many others. Priests of many gods, wizards rolling in gold, warriors guarding caravans, and even a few shady types all stayed the night at the inn. Sam couldn’t help but overhear some of their conversations, and would often run back into the kitchen with difficult questions for his parents like, “Mom, what is a blood sacrifice?”



Knowing that if they lied to Sam, he might befriend the wrong shady character, they explained all of these strange topics as best they could. Very early his mind became open to the ideas of many beliefs, all types of personalities, and the vast range of professions people in the world can hold. All this knowledge turned young Sam away from traditional religion. There were so many priests of so many religions, how could only one possibly be "correct?" Despite his rough skepticism, his parents taught him respect for these men. Some wielded the hammer of a higher power, and so all were to be treated with courtesy and care. Which god gave them power did not matter. So long as they were holy men, they were all equals at the inn.



Sam, even as a boy of 8, understood the importance of gold. It was what his parents cooked for, it was why the trade caravans moved, and it was what most of the travelling priests seemed quite concerned with. He decided to earn some gold himself, however he could. Making small wooden sculptures, Sam would run between the wagons of trade caravans hawking them for coppers. After being swindled out of his money by the caravan runners a few times, Sam resorted to bartering. He began trading his sculptures for small baubles he saw on the traders. Soon he had a collection of silver rings, brass broaches, and even a glowing ball that a friendly wizard had enchanted to bounce on its own.

The Making of "Deadeye" McGraw
On one of Sam’s more successful bartering rounds, with his pockets full of brass buttons he had just traded for, he approached a group of particularly shady characters seemingly arguing over a carved wooden pistol.



<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">The man holding the pistol was furious and almost shouted at his companion, “I’m telling you, that wizard ripped us off! It won’t shoot ever since we hit that caravan a few miles back out of town. The damn thing only had two shots left! I told you after I took down the –“  He stopped as he noticed Sam approach. “ What do you want, kid?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">Sam held out his bag of trinkets and said, “Hey mister, you wanna trade for that toy gun? I just got a load of buttons I can trade for it. Real brass! Hand Made!”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">The man’s eyes lit up when he saw the designs on the buttons. “Where did you get these buttons, kid?”  he picked up a couple and hefted them in his hand.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">“I’ll tell ya if you trade me for the toy.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">“Sure kid.”  The man handed the “toy” pistol to Sam, took a handful of the buttons and asked, “Now where did you come about those buttons?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">His companion’s jaw dropped. “Derek, you can’t be serious! That wand cost us almost urghh-“

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">A swift jab to the ribs from his friend stopped him mid sentence. “That TOY isn’t working, Zachary. And you see these buttons? These are from a noble of House Basenga. Like, the house Basenga, from city Basenga. You know how heavy they travel. We can recoup the cost of your stupid purchase, and then some.” He turned back to Sam. “Now boy, who did you get these buttons from?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">Sam pointed at a group of covered wagon that was sitting, hidden away under a grove of trees. “Fat man in there traded ‘em to me. Said something about gifts for his daughters.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">The men grinned almost wickedly at the mention of gifts. “That’s just what we hoped. Run along now, kid.”  They slunk off into the shadows, and disappeared from sight entirely.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-top-alt:auto;mso-margin-bottom-alt:auto; line-height:normal"><span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"">Sam scampered off, eager to go play with his new baubles. In the coming days he, and a few very unlucky birds, would discover that the pistol actually worked! Sam began "patrolling" around the small town, making bets with people about what he could shoot. Sam never lost a bet, and always hit his target. He gained the nickname “Deadeye” after he managed to shoot down a wolf that had pounced on one of his playmates. Got the wolf without so much as nicking the boy, too.

Samuel, the Wanderer
<p class="MsoNormal">For the next 8 years, "Deadeye" kept sculpting, kept selling, and kept shooting. He helped around the tavern and began to really earn his own keep. Not much happened in the small town, until one year there were particularly poor harvests in all of the farms around town. The sun hid behind clouds for almost a whole year, and people in the town had such poor crops that they had started to buy food from the traveling caravans, instead of the other way around. Even the tavern, which normally did so well, was barely staying afloat. Daily, the morale of the town was dropping as people got hungrier.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">One unfortunate evening that year, a man going by Harris, a priest of Pelor came to eat. When word spread that a holy man of the sun had arrived, the farmers came out en masse. Led by Deadeye's parents, the unruly group swarmed the man in robes and demanded that he make the sun shine for their crops. When he could not change the clouds, the mob accused him of being a charlatan and false prophet, stripped him of his possessions, and chased him out of town with nothing but the clothes on his back.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">Seeing this cruelty to a man of the gods, Deadeye was angered. He questioned his parents' actions, reminding them that they always said to remain respectful. They dismissed Deadeye's concerns as those of a child, and once again called the priest a false prophet. Deadeye couldn't believe his parents' sudden change of heart. They always had enough food, entertainment from the caravans, and their health. To be angry was ridiculous.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">Late that night after the lanterns had been extinguished, Deadeye gathered his trinkets and money. If his entire town could no longer respect holy men, he held no more respect for it. He made his way to the store room, gathered the confiscated belongings of the priest, and left. Walking through the darkness for hours, Deadeye found Harris and returned his goods. Explaining that he was not going to return to the town, Deadeye offered what protection his pistol could bring to the man in the rest of his travels. Harris graciously accepted.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">And so, for years after, Samuel followed Harris and tried to learn the ways of the clerics(others of the order didn't take kindly to his nickname). Though he paid great attention to detail, and perfectly performed Pelor's ceremonies, he was never blessed with the powers of a cleric. Harris told him that the point of ceremonies wasn't to be correct, it was to be faithful to your god. It was to be so sure that Pelor would guide you in the ceremony and that one couldn't make a mistake with their god's aid. Samuel could never master this release of control.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">Fortunately for Samuel, the art of scroll crafting is entirely about precision. Though Harris was not able to tutor him in the way of true faith, Samuel would be able to fool any and all onlookers by casting scrolls from his "Book of Miracles" and wearing the garb of the order. Samuel thought it funny that after all that happened at his inn, he was the only one that had actually become a false prophet.

Deadeye, the Adventurer
<p class="MsoNormal">The other clerics of Pelor began to talk about Samuel. The member of their order "without true faith." Harris, fearing that the rest of the order may take action against Samuel, sent him off on his own. Harris would wander in another direction, spreading rumors of my presence elsewhere. Samuel would travel alone for a time, to find himself and his purpose.

<p class="MsoNormal">

<p class="MsoNormal">Suddenly without   a charge to protect and no order to belong to, "Deadeye" took up his old title and decided to use his powers for good. He didn't need the approval of a convent or his parents. All he needed was the road, and a place where he could do some good, in the name of Pelor. Maybe one day he would even return home and restore his town's sense of respect for holy men.