Character Information

[Ralos theUnspoken]

Originally, A space for elaboration on the past of each player character, the things that make them who they are. Now, it is also a general space for any notes you might want to keep about your hero or the quest in general. Journal entries, flowcharts, conversations between the voices in your head, the format is not important. Just remember, this space is yours.

Hero Party (alphabetically by first name) Aleer, the Half-Elven Sorcerer Arrik, the Human Druid Horben, the Human Ranger Ivogrim, the Dwarven Invoker Lo Kag, the Goliath Fighter Meliha, the Gnome Bard

[Smei]

Story Time Flute music floated through the camp, mingling with the rising smoke of the campfire before escaping into the night sky. The younger caravaners listened with rapt attention while the gruff and bearded driver twirled a knife in his hands. "... and less than three days later, they had run out of beer. Worse yet, they were a day out from Bora Mesa. Orc territory. Orcs like visitors. They like to scalp 'em and sew their skins into tents. So the settlers decided to cross the mesa by night. Bad idea, but might've just saved their sorry hides. The Orcs found 'em--the Orcs always find 'em--but just as the orcs were bringing their spears down on the first fighters, they started sreamin' and runnin' for their lives. Blood and heads flying everywhere. When that awful orc howling and gurgling and waaaagh-ing had stopped, they saw a man standing there. Tall guy, leather-tan and tough from making home in the desert. Long black hair. Asked them where they were going, and when they told him they were settlers, he told them to leave. 'This land is no more yours than it is theirs.' They left." Several stared with wide eyes, two or three guffawed, and one spoke up. "Horseshit. Takes two good men to kill a sand orc, ain't no joker gonna clean a whole troop of them." The bearded driver shrugged. "Takes a crazy man to live out here." "Yeah. Crazy, like that painted girl--" A wizened old traveller sitting at the corner of the group snapped at the youngster. "Don't joke about the Sand Lion, you hooligan!" "Oh, so our mysterious hero is a little kitty cat?" The old man removed his shirt, revealing three monstrous scars across his chest. "Listen here. I should be dead. Just a few years ago, I was out here in these badlands. I was hungry, so naturally, I wandered into the foothills like the thick old man I was to look for food. A roadrunner sounded good, but snake was my second choice. Up just a little ways, I saw something too good to be true--a dead hare. I ran over and pulled out my knife to dig in, but I was stopped short of my dream meal when I was knocked on my back by a huge goddamn mountain lion. I woke up the next morning, still on my back in the same spot, but bandaged up. The hare was roasting on a spit just a few feet that way, being spun by a tall, calm fellow sitting cross-legged on the rock. He saw that I was awake and offered me a bite, and it didn't take long before I had enough wit about me to accept. After eating a little, he told me that I shouldn't try to eat a predator's kill; they usually don't like that. I nodded and asked him 'What should I do about ones I anger for other reasons?' He said 'You can try to be intimidating; hit them and they might think twice. Just don't count on them sparing you and offering you dinner if they get the upper hand.' I stared at him for a second, and his eyes narrowed. Not the way you're thinking. His pupils became vertical, cat's-eye. He smirked. I ran like hell. That's the day I met the Sand Lion." One of the younger men piped up. "The Sand Lion? I hear he's the reason the orcs never strike south of the mesa." Another offered his two cents. "He never sleeps! He hunts all day and night!" "Whenever you hear a roar echo through the mountains, he's killed another band of maurauders who think they can claim the desert as theirs." "Sometimes people say they've seen a lion in the distance transform into a great eagle--" The bearded driver threw the group into stunned silence. "He's moved out east." After a few moments, he continued. "He's a hunter, and his prey got too easy. The orcs are afraid of him, and he got tired of warning people against trying to start cities out here. He got restless, moved east. But the one last thing they say about him--he calls himself a 'Druid.' There are others, these Druids, and they still protect these badlands. We'd best pay all of them our respect. Now get some rest, we have work to do tomorrow."

Same story I posted in the application thread.

The story itself has a story, too. Once upon a time, my namesake character, Smei, had a moderately long backstory that detailed his birth, parents, life, etc. As time went on, the story began to bother me. Not the story itself, really, but the fact that I spent so much breath (and bandwidth) sharing details that didn't matter with an audience that cared little for it. Every character since then, I've done something slightly different. Two of my favorites include 1) the character herself telling a story about a single event in her past and 2) an argument between a thrallherd's two very different thralls (a ninja and a crusader) that concerned their master. With these indirect methods, I can still reveal core details that shape the character, but much more importantly, I have more control over the mood of the story and the aura that surrounds them.

For this particular story, I decided a few key things about Arrik: as a paragon-level character, he has a reputation; and as a Druid, his environment must both have a personality and shape his. Once I had decided on those two details, writing the rest was natural (ha ha, pun),

Happy gaming.

[ghazi]

Quest notes
Meliha now has a symbol of a small harp crossed by a sword on her palm

Background

Meliha has led expeditions of civilised people through the wilderness, pushing back wild and barbourous creatures far from the cities of man, elf and dwarf. Specialising in leading small bands of experienced warriors, Meliha has brought ear upon ear of beast, orc and goblin back to Argol. Meliha is known among the dwarves of the mountains as a fierce and brave warrior, and has gained their respect through her musical ability with dwarven drinking songs. In one or two places, she has been granted the honour of being induced into the dwarven tribe.

Lacking the childish and trickster ways of her kin, she is a serious warrior, praising those who have fought and died with song and ballad. Meliha is equally comfortable in dwarven halls, eladrin's towns on the fey wind and among human warriors; in fact, wherever there are serious soldiers. Her time among soldiers have led Meliha to be proficient in the martial arts and the art of leadership as much as she can sing and perform.

Meliha can't explain how she survived the Impact. She was celebrating her recent return

from the mountains and her destruction of an orc tribe there, when IT happened. She was knocked flat, knocked cold, and woke to find all her friends, her brave companions, killed. Killed, not by sword or arrow, but a foe which can have no explanation.

The only clue: a symbol of a harp (her favourite instrument) crossed by a sword imprinted on her hand. She would seek its meaning and others who might have survived.