Cast of Characters
I will award an XP bonus to any who include a picture in their post and on their sheet.
Race: Half Elf
(Please write this in when you get the chance)
(Please write this up when you get the chance)
(Please write this up when you get the chance. I have some ideas/suggestions on why you may have gone to Centris if you like)
Last edited by Bio; 12-22-2010 at 10:17 PM.
Name: Skyla Exposition, the NPC__________________
Race: Raptoran/Half Vampire
Class: Favored Soul of Pelor
To other raptorans, Skyla looks deathly white; her feathers a kind of flat, dull white that match her skin. She wears a full robe, also of white with the sun disk emblazoned on the front, and her wings coming out of the back. From far away, or with the hood pulled down (it usually was), she might appear to be an angelic messenger of Pelor, and she's okay with that. Better that than people see her for what she really is. So for all of her radiance that she looks to be, Skyla is the consummate model of humility. She knows that if those that flock to her knew what had turned her white, they would run in fear.
Nighttime, in an isolated cliff dwelling, murder was happening on a massive scale. Raptorans died by the scores, fleeing, fighting or hiding. A clutch of eggs was left unprotected - the parents most likely dead already - became the target of one of the more powerful undead, a vampire. Thinking to pierce through the shell and drink the fresh blood of an unborn child gave him a surprise: instead of blood, this egg was not that far developed - all he got was a taste of yolk and a tummy ache. But the child inside took more from him than he did of her.
Like many orphans, Skyla wound up in the care of the church. While she grew, Skyla faught with self doubt, self loathing and quetstioning if her state would yield her soul too tainted by the undeath that coursed through her, into eternity. She spent many hours and days in prayer and pleading for solace and acceptance if Illuvatar would hear her. He did, and set His servant Pelor to guide her and grant her his powers of healing. Now she was sure that she had been heard and accepted, and an unshakable peace filled her from that day forward.
... but not everyone saw it that way. Members of the Church requested that she be sent to Centris where she would be subjected to the Reich - those who would see through her disguise if she was part of some plot of evil to insert the undead into the Church.
Last edited by Bio; 03-08-2011 at 12:49 AM.
Name: Venzereth Megairi (In common Megairi would mean Time Leaf)__________________
HP 32/32, PP 67/67, PsiF-Y, Sudden Shift 8/8, AC13/T13/FF10, Fort+7 Ref+9 Will+14
Race: Gray Elf
Alignment: Lawful Good
Class: 3 KineticistPsion / 3 Transmuter (Prohibited Enchantment & Abjuration)
Transmutable Memory& Sudden Magic VariantsWizard / 4 Cerebremancer
Deity: No particular following but refers to elven deities now and then, and respects the reasonable beliefs of others
Physical Appearance: Ven is a tall thin elf with extremely pale skin, with long silvery hair woven together masterfully in hundreds tiny 2 millimetre braids which must have taken a great amount of time and skilled hands to pull it off, which go down a little beyond the base of his neck, when he turns his head quickly they almost look like sharp coils of wire but most of the time it just catches light, easily showing his elven heritage as if his features were not enough, his eyes are an amber colour and while like most elves he does not appear particularly muscular there is certainly a gracefulness about his every move displaying openly to the world his natural agility, the only seemingly unnatural thing about him is some pattern based tattoos around his temples
Apparel: Ven wears a formal high collared suit with a tie even in completely inappropriate settings he refuses to wear more appropriate garments in favour of his sophisticated elven clothes, the suit is comprised of fairly dull colours but the way they are designed makes even it’s ordinary array of greys and whites with goldish trimmings seem glamourous, from his shoulders hangs a thick dark blue cloak attached through clear crystals that reaches down as far as halfway down his shins as he is unwilling for his cloak to trail behind him picking up dirt and other disgraceful filth, he also wears black boots, moving on to his jewlery he wears a ring bearing the symbol of house Megairi on his left hand, other small coloured gems are worked into the designs of his clothing but he also wears a purple gem on his forehead supported by a fine golden chain interwoven with his hair, he wears bracelets of intricately woven hues of blue and green around each wrist, he also wears some red diamond shaped earrings which where he comes from are applicable to both men and women, finally around his neck he wears a pendant which also bears the mark of house Megairi
Personality: I’ve found my character personalities tend to grow on their own based on the world of the game and the companions in his party, here are some of his potential idiosyncrasies (which may or may not be used), fond use of high vocabulary and gets annoyed when people don’t understand what he’s talking about, jokingly giving his allies demeaning nicknames, using poetics now and then whenever he feels the group is too unsophisticated, obsessed with keeping his clothes clean, If you’ve ever seen the show The Big Bang Theory think of SheldonIncredibly specific about meals, appreciator of tea, disgusted by human architectures lack of grace and beauty as he feels that buildings are a symbol of a peoples refinement
Family: Whether outsiders believe it or not house Megairi is actually one of the most tolerant and least stuck up houses among the gray elven society Ven calls home, he has a large number of family members he enjoys one or two activities with but he is not particularly close to any of them
Outside in the clear night sky the stars shone brightly and a gibbous moon had nearly completed it's ascent, far below in the mountain citadel of the gray elves, Zyeilmor-nahmi, it was called... in the tower of House Megairi one room was still illuminated by the flickering of candle-light as Venzereth sat reading tomes in the family library completely unaware of how much time had passed
He was born of a noble family but he had very little power among them, and in the end he liked it that way, it was peaceful and he had none of the pressures of management, and he spent many hours in the library both day and night, but something strange had been happening in recent years he'd find curtains opened that he'd closed seconds before, find pages turning by themselves, and tonight he would witness another of these phenomena one that had been going for quite some time with him none the wiser
He'd been looking through tomes of magic in hopes of getting to the bottom of it, he knew a few details one of them being that these events usually occurred around him and normally took a subtle form, he had suspected at first some kind of "magical leakage" and so had been researching if such a thing were possible, but in the back of his mind where he refused to acknowledge what was within, he dreaded the possibility that he was becoming a sorcerer, and that these peculiar happenings would soon come to take a much more dangerous and soul polluting nature.
Ven flinched as he heard the door open, and he wondered if he'd fallen asleep at his desk, not a sound had occured for hours, he blinked a few times starting to realize just how tired he was, Peila one of the servant women entered the room "Still in the library?" she asked with a smile, and lifted his book a little so she could see the title "I honestly don't know why you haven't studied magic, you read all these books about magic but I've never seen you take an interest in becoming a wizard..."
"I'm... preparing my brain, reading complicated books to make my mind stronger, so I can get used to processing a lot of words and symbols every day, that way when I do become one I'll do it well..." Peila just turned her head back to him knowingly, that was the same answer he'd given her every night for seven years "But you know you can't just keep staying up all night don't you?" she asked
"I know, I know..." he said wearily, anticipating the lecture he'd been getting for twelve years "I should rest more often so my mind works at full capacity...", he got up maybe I should start taking that advice, my head has felt so foggy this month..., Peila stopped him gesturing with her finger that he'd forgotten something "You forgot the fire risk!" she said in good spirited argument, "just you and a candle and all these books something goes wrong and this whole room goes up in flames", she chuckled and started moving over to the candle
I know... Ven reiterated quietly rolling his eyes and walking over to the door, Peila often liked to walk him back to his chambers to make sure he didn't get up again and go back to the library (even though he never once did that), but when he turned back he saw Peila's puzzled expression
"Ven..." she said lifting the candle holder, and looked up to him "this candle burned out hours ago... Where's this light been coming from...?" she asked and as she did the light suddenly faded into darkness, Ven was glad he'd opened the door not long ago and they could see the maintained light of the hallway oil lamps, able to get out of the room without awkward searching in the dark...
But it was another of those strange events, they were usually helpful in some way, but whenever he noticed they were happening they always ended, as though his conscious thought was anathema to the power that sustained it, and that made it very difficult to figure out what they were... And to illuminate a room for so long indicated that these unusual occurrences were getting stronger, and now Peila would start to wonder if there was something strange about him...
Spiked Metal boots struck the ground with a echoing effect as he dismounted, though the noise was not loud it carried the power to silence a room full of people like the voice of a feared tyrant, footfall after footfall in silence the elves of Zyeilmor-nahmi watched him ascending the great stairs to their city, and though he was far away every man woman and child knew the identity of this man, Inspector Fahli of the reich...
Due to the slow aging of elves they were visited less often perhaps once every ten or fifteen years, but on those times he did come he was much more determined to find the blasphemous sorcerers since he would not be around again for some time, Fahli was a half-elf but unlike many others the elves of Zyeilmor-nahmi looked upon him not with pity, but with fear...
He was not the only man ascending the stairs, he had assistants, information gatherers, scholars of magic, and guards, but still that one man who walked ahead of the rest held the intimidated gaze of nearly every elf in the citadel, he was one of the reich's best If I'm okay to give that name to the sorcerer finderswitch-hunters and when he found those accursed members of any society guilty of sorcery he knew no mercy, many torture machines were carried by the men behind him, if he found one he would find them all...
Venzereth trembled at the sight of him, for many years he had been the subject of unexplainable events, the pages that turned by themselves when he looked away, the lights that kept going when the candle burned out, the sudden acquisition of a quill out of thin air only for it to disappear when it's need was over, few people had really noticed these things but him and... he looked hesitantly down the great stairway where the leaders of the citadel descended the stairs to meet the inspector, one of them accompanied by a handmaiden he knew well, Peila, who had been with him that night the mysterious light had disappeared when noticed...
He was afraid, afraid of attracting the wrath of the reich, but more afraid, so much more deeply terrified of possible confirmation that he was in fact a sorcerer, he didn't even register the bloodied hooks dangling viciously from the torture machines, hearing the "truth" he denied to himself would be torment enough, if they ever discovered him for what he thought he was he would be destroyed, inside... he looked at the grizzly devices and shuddered... and out...
He couldn't bring himself to watch the whole event, he had to leave the crowd and breathe, hyperventilate, with a dread he couldn't begin to fathom, tears flowed and it took him many minutes to calm down, but he couldn't bring himself to go back out there no matter how suspicious it would, he couldn't possibly look upon that doom incarnate that was inspector Fahli
Fahli nodded and made a slight bow to the elven authorities, a council made up of the leaders of every noble house, "It is a truly great honour to set eyes upon the grandeur of Zyeilmor-nahmi once again", the leader of the elven council stepped forward "We are glad you're here Fahli, we will not have blasphemous sorcerers bring this haven of sophistication and refinement in a crude and rustic world to damnation... Enjoy the splendor of our magnificence but remember you're doing here..."
Fahli seemed baffled for a moment by the arrogance of what the leader of the elves had just said, but stepped forward when they mentioned his work and proclaimed loudly "The Reich has come to you that we may set aside your fears of contamination, I shall search relentlessly for those cursed individuals amongst you and exterminate them them for the greater good!" people looked on inspector Fahli with some measure of fear as he ascended the stairs and entered the mountain citadel of Zyeilmor-nahmi
The inspector went through many houses and bloodlines finding at least two full fledged sorcerors and a number of "carriers" who while lacked the proficiency themselves may have sorcerous offspring, still others came a little too close to comfort regarding supernatural bloodlines and were taken for good measure, the full sorcerers he killed those with questionable bloodlines were killed also as "latent sorcerors", those who could potentially have sorcerous offspring were branded with very visible marks that would make it quite difficult to find someone to marry them
Eventually the Reich made their sweep of house Megairi, even the innocent went into the witchunters office trembling and choose their every word carefully, they made enquiries and narrowed down the possibilities trhe fact that Venzereth studied tomes of magic and yet expressed no interest thus far of actually becoming a mage brought upon him great suspicion
He was held late into the night not in the presence of Fahli being interrogated but isolated in a small prison so that Fahli could follow through with his investigation without the elf escaping, Fahli sorted through everyone Venzerereth assosciated with and eventually discovered Peila and the incident with the burnt out candle
With that Fahli was more convinced of Vens guilt, and began working him for evidence of the curse of sorcery, Ven remembers little of that cold terrifying time, Fahli circled him like a shark asking questions that struck a little too close to home, asking questions that set him up for further accusations but through all of it he was unable to find any evidence of magical aptitude from Ven detecting magic
He eventually turned on Peila releasing Venzereth for a time, and the inspector worked on the idea that she may have lit the room for him, eventually Peila was found capable of an obscure form of sorcery a capability for unusual espionage agents known as spellthieves, still however such a thing would not merit creation of light, the reich investigated the room and found that the candlestick was enchanted but never looked past that fact to realize the enchantment was for self cleaning of wax and ash and inability to burn the books
Fahli was still not convinced of Vens innocence though he was frustratingly unable to produce evidence he still probed Ven once more with questions, in a zone of truth the inspector asked him many uncomfortable questions, in the darkness of one of these meetins Ven realized he had to know whether or not he was a sorcerer even if the reich found out, for the first time he reached deep into the foggy complexities of his mind and cried to his innermost powers to come forth and wobble a mirror at the very moment a tired wizard was detecting magic on Ven for the fifth time
And the mirror did... The wizard concluded the spell and stated that Ven was not a sorcerer and that inspector Fahli should stop wasting his time on suspicions and chase more evidence based leads, grudgingly Fahli let him go again glaring at him one last time "No one escapes the reich..." he muttered but he seemed to agree with the mage, Venzereth was released, relieved but more puzzled than ever, he had been able to call upon his "quirk" to activate, but it hadn't registered as magic, and if it wasn't magic... than what was it...
Ven stood above a dark table in a spellcasting academy on the island of magic only a candle each side of the desk gave any illumination to his wrinkled brow as he stared intently down at the paper beads of perspiration forming in the intesity of his focus on the problem before him "There's a missing spell school, there has to be it's the only explanation why I didn't get caught that day! "
Venzereth had traveled to the Island of Centris to be around more magical scholars and books of arcane lore, in his time he had taken to studying the ways of magic in an attempt to "snap into shape" the powers he had used but the more he delved into the nature of his mind the more he realized with frustration that they were different, he did not mind however to learn about the ways of magic that his people held so dear, it was fascinating and useful to say the least, but it did nothing to satisfy the gnawing hole of curiosity that ate away at him what was this "ability" within him, because the phenomena still happened, he'd tried again to make things happen but he hadn't been able to do it again he imagined his urgency and confidence something might happen had allowed it to work the first time
He had asked questions to professors that had started truly itnriguing discussions but which dodged his original questions, he had read many tomes and performed divinations but he had grown no closer to discovering the nature of this strange potential, he left his small room in the academy to go wander to clear his mind, as he walked the street he felt led down a few particular turns until he saw a sign which seemed to emanate with magical energy... no not magic that strange power Venzereth had that remained untapped he went inside to speak with the owner in order to find out what they knew about this bizarre possible 10th school of magic
When he entered the store he found it to be a small store for many different miscellaneous things that the elf didn't think would sell all too quickly, he inquired with the owner about the energy on the sign, the old man smiled and asked Venzereth to follow him asking questions about whether the elf understood the power of the mind, Venzereth thinking of ingenuity and knowledge agreed readily until his questions took different mysterious tones
The old man was annoyingly vague always giving him riddles for answers and refusing to give him straight answers, but there was something about him Ven knew this man understood the power latent within him loathe though he was to take lessons from a human he had to admit he had done a lot of searching and found no better source of information, he visited the man regularly to hear his strange lectures about the form of the mind and projection of will and other stuff that sounded like enchantment (a school of magic Venzereth had largely ignored), it turned out however that it was something else all together something new something Venzereth had been madly seeking to harness this potential he couldn't grasp was not mmagical in nature at all but a more obscure art known as psionics
He spent many years with his mentor and he still maintained his magical studies both fields were by far too interesting to give up as a whole, he chose a complicated course of slowly trying to blend the two together, he would need to if he wanted to get by in the world and this way he could pursue both of his great loves, he had spent many years learning to handle his powers, but only now were events being set into motion that would carry him on the path to adventure...
HP 94/94, Challenges 2/2, AC24/T13/FF21, Fort+6 Ref+5 Will +5
Mount: Onurok (Grünatharls Heavy War-horse)
HP 33/33, Fort+7 Ref+5 Will +2
Race: Water Orc
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Class: 5 Knight / 5 Fighter
Physical appearance: Grünatharl is broad shouldered and extremely muscular even for an orc, his skin is a deep green of stronger coloration than most water orcs which is more blue toward lighter toned areas of his skin (for example his ears and his fingers), he has some small opaque scales on his cheeks, he has long, thick, very dark green fingernails and toenails that are vaguely hook like toward the end and webbed hands and feet about half-way up to the first knuckle, despite his good physical condition Grünatharl still has a large belly as though fat but exclusively in the stomach reigon, he has a thick mat of shining oily black hair and lots of stubble, he has a powerful jutting jaw and two big tusks, a wide and flat nose with large nostrils thick eyebrows, and dark red eyes
Apparel: Generally Grünatharl wears fairly simple brown tunics and pants beneath a shining suit of Mithril Full plate (the shining part is important, he's quite diligent about polishing his armour), without a helmet
Personality: Many knights are true exemplars of what an honorable warrior can do for the cause of good in the world protecting innocents and upholding just lawful societies, then there are the other kind, the men who while exceptionally skilled with a weapon are nothing but proud soldiers in it for the sole purpose of glory and fame to fulfill their taste for respect and adoration, Grünatharl belongs to the latter
Boisterous and boastful though he may be Grünatharl is good at heart, he views himself in a childlike light ever pursuing his goal of becoming the "hero" of a great legend to delight many and inspire them to pursue better things in their lives, everything is about reputation to him and the exhilaration of a good fight
Background: Grünatharl spent his childhood among the orcish tribe of his parents, the tiderager tribe was strange in comparison to others in that they possessed a strange connection by blood to the elemental plane of water, within the tribe it is taught that they paid such reverence to the spirits of the sea that they took on elemental qualities of water, others feel however that the more likely case is that they captured several water genasi and produced offspring which continued to spread the traits of elemental water through the bloodline
Their unusual qualities however became too much of an unusual exotic quality that peaked the interest of wealthy wizards and it was not long before the tribe was beset by slavers, Grünatharl was taken when he was nine years old, and sold to a wizard who after initial curiosity quickly grew bored of him, after a few years he was not even worth noticing to the cruel wizard or mentioning as a bizarre posession in light of other experiments and ended up enlisting him in a gladitorial ring in the end, receiving profits for his battles in order to fund other experiments
The young water orc was about 12 by this point but being a physically powerful race this was not a problem for the gladiatorial organizers, in fact it was a surprisingly profitable gimmick of the “will they beat a 12 year old orc” challenges but it soon became clear as he was not beaten within a few weeks that they should consider placing the little orc in more serious matches, having survived in the rings the water orc quickly became a favourite of his wicked audience
As he grew into young man Grünatharl became one of the best fighters in the secret gladiatorial rings of supposedly orderly and just cities, fighting with startling brutality he knew nothing but sweat, blood, and adrenalin for many years fighting with a weapon that symbolized his bondage a spiked length of chain he was a truly vicious combatant, in those days he may well have been evil at heart, living only for the applause of victory and to earn his master money but one event changed Grünatharl inside and set him on the path to freedom
One day a meddling paladin and a knight of the one order or another just so happened to discover what was happening, illegal gladiator matches were being fought between slaves to appease wicked nobles, they did not however escape to tell anyone, instead these enforcers of law found manacles on their own wrists and were shoved into the pits of battle as convenient a way to dispose of them as any, the paladin was taken first to face Grünatharl in battle
This was one of the times Grünatharl nearly lost, the orc only barely fought to victory, forced to his knees unarmed the paladin merely stared at him, there was a peace in his eyes, so many of others Grünatharl had fought showed fear, to his perception death was the ultimate shame, proof that one was not strong enough to survive in the world, but there was something about this particular man that showed Grünatharl he was not afraid to die Grünatharl roared and beat the chains he wielded together to try and scare the man but the peace remained
Frustrated by this Grünatharl brought the chain down on the mans head... but that was not the end of it the battle was won and the crowd cheered for him but Grünatharl was forced to see new things, the paladin had lived for something greater than himself and was not afraid to die in it's name, for the first time in his life Grünatharl felt remorse and the concepts of morality came into his mind.
Outside of battle the prisoners and slaves were allowed to talk among themselves, something Grünatharl had never done he saw the others only as future enemies, he had always fought alone and had always believed he was stronger than the rest, now though he was not so sure, he approached the knight who had been partner to the paladin he'd killed, the knight backed away from him, Grünatharl did nothing violent he just stared at his feet glancing up once at the man, in him too there was a confidence in his eyes, for a long time Grünatharl struggled for words until he eventually said "teach me... to be more like you..."
It was this moment that turned his life around, soon Grünatharl and the knight became strong friends and eventually worked out a plan to escape, the gladiatorial rings were stopped but would eventually re-form, but the young orc had no place to go he had no idea where his tribe was and upon his revelation of right and wrong the idea of returning to aid in their pointless battles and raiding held no interest to him, he chose to remain with the knight to know how to be a fighter who did good things in the world
To explain it to him the knight told him stories of knightly heroes who pursued honour above all, these tales held Grünatharl captivated and starry eyed and he became dedicated to match and possibly better the deeds of his role models, the knight laughed this off at first but the extent of the orcs dedication soon became clear and the knight began to officially train Grünatharl
While he learned a great many things about the world from the knight, a time soon came for him to travel apart from his savior, he had grown up and there was so much he could only learn himself, he had a purpose in life now, he wanted to become a knight and live by the concept of honor but to do that he had to actually live in that way out in the wider world, he had to prove himself worthy, and so he found his way somewhere a hero was needed…
Things did not go entirely according to plan however, Grünatharl soon became aware of the island of Centris, that was the island of magic, an island of wizards, Grünatharl had a few misconceptions about honour he thought (and still does) that honour included pride and his wizard master had thus sullied his honour and so he headed there to destroy his old master
But that never came to pass the disaster took place and did it for him, and a much more valuable to him happened, he found friends, he found Venzereth, Skyla, Neva, and particularly Warrick that man he got long well with, in their journeys together he learned that to serve the cause of good with a weapon in hand the aim was not beating the snot out of evil things (it took him a LONG time to realize that part) but rather in protecting the people he cared about protecting the good people in the world who made it a better place
He also learned how to deal with people and to accept the possibility that he was wrong sometimes, and in time he grew some measure of patience and became a lot more tolerable
HP 29/29, Fort+6 Ref+4 Will +1
318/460lbs (Medium load)
a 20ft length of silk rope (2lbs), a 50ft length of silk rope(5lbs), 26 cold iron arrows & 14 Silver Arrows (6lbs), 20 days mount feed (200lbs), pack saddle (15lbs), 20 days trail rations (20lbs), 2 waterskins (8lbs), Portable Ram (20lbs), Shovel (8lbs), 5 cold iron Javelins (10lbs), Crowbar (5lbs), Bedroll (5lbs), Climbers kit (5lbs), Clay Mug (2lbs), Winter Blanket (3lbs)
Last edited by Oruvias; 04-11-2011 at 08:45 PM. Reason: added background
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Class: 2 Monk
Deity: Follows strict personal code of honor. Not particularly beholden to any specific deity as she believes her personal actions carry more weight then lip service to a being claiming to be "god". However, she favors good aligned deities to evil and lawful deities to chaotic ones. She was raised in the traditions of Pelor. She does respect others beliefs.
Physical Appearance: She is 5'8" and has an average feminine build. She is pretty but only in a simple, girl-next-door kinda way. She has fair skin, short blonde hair, and brilliant teal blue eyes (her best feature).
Apparel: Teal blue monk outfit that matches her eyes.
Personality: Reticent. She is kind but not pious.
Family/Background: Her father was an elf and her mother was/is human. Her parents were adventurers together. Her father died before she was born. After giving birth to Megan, her mother left her in the care of a monastery while she went to avenge megan's father. Megan's mother never made it back. Megan never found out if her mother died or if she just left her there. The monastery was one of Pelor.
Player: I am new to play by post but I am experienced with table top role-playing. So I apologize in advance for my inane questions on how to play by post.
Name: Neva Rosehollow__________________
Race: Pixie (LA4)
Age: Pixies don't have an ageing guidline, so i used the one for gnomes.44
Alignment: Neutral Good
Class: Rogue 6
Physical Appearance: Neva is tiny, even to a Halfling. She stands only two feet tall, and her back is adorned with four brilliant black and off-white butterfly wings. Her eyes are such a bright blue one could almost swear they were emitting light, and only seem brighter when compared to her Ebony black hair. She wears a checkerboard outfit that almost tricks the mind into optical illusions, a silver mask fashioned to look like eagle eyes, and a Mithril headband of Celtic Knots.
Personality: "You aren't living if you aren't Laughing" Is her personal motto. She is silly and a joker most all of the time, except in situations when a joke would be so out of place as to cause pain, such as funerals. She is artistic, energetic, eccentric, eclectic, poetic, and frankly, quite annoying sometimes. But under the shell of this wild partying prankster is a wisdom and intelligence well beyond the average person, and even many of the greater ones. She can read people like a book, and can do an amazing job of "writing" them.
She came from the Ancient wood, where now most of the elves reside, among other things. She departed from her parents, her friends, her dozen sisters and dozen brothers, to enjoy the world that lay beyond the skyline. Travelling to town after town, she grew to love humans and the other races. They were all so big and wonderous, and they too found the tiny pixie a fascinating sight to behold, for her kind is not often seen so boldly. Appearing now and then to one or a few people at a time, She soon began to understand them quite well, understanding what drove their emotions and desires, and placed herself into a life of guiding and advising those that felt lost and unhappy. Her bright smile and persistent optimism encouraged many people to turn their lives around, and every time she would help someone, she felt their happiness in herself. A Veritable Jiminy Cricket of the world, this tiny traveller helped several dozen people already in her short time out in the world, and never means to stop.
It was this travelling do-gooder lifestyle that ultimately lead her to Centris, where for a time she served as a friend and familiar with a troubled and struggling young wizard. That wizard did not escape the mine tunnels though, and coming through fire, horror and tragedy alone, she wound up amongst a group of individuals and a destiny to be a part of whatever role they would play in the coming days of this world.
Name: Warrick “Oakhammer” Redmane
Race: Human Woodling
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Deity: Ehlonna, Kord, Obad-Hai
Physical Appearance: Describing Warrick, depending on your definition of a description, is either extremely easy or extremely difficult. Usually “The guy who looks like a tree” is enough to point him out to a stranger, and most often there is no need for further detail. However an Exact description of him does not retain validity for too long, as his appearance is seasonally different.
He likes most the way he looks in Autumn, and indeed it is most accurate to the way he used to look before becoming a woodling. His eyes are a murky maroon red, and his skin is brown and barky. On his head is a collection of stem-like strings with whorled, pine-like needle leaves pointed away from the roots at a sharp angle which make it look as though he has hair that shaggily sticks out in an almost mane-like way. His chin sports similar stem-hair which he ties in a plait, though without the needles. Any neat-obsessed members of the party may often become frustrated with him towards the end of autumn, as he sheds these pine needles everywhere.
Come Winter, he has shed all of these needles and so looks much neater. His eyes turn a deep sapphire blue, and as the cold sets in the bark of his skin and the hair-stems darken to almost black and become dry and rigid like the branched of dormant winter trees.
When spring comes, the dry and rigid stems break and fall out, leaving him with a bald and shaven look for a few days. The hair is usually grown back to about neck length within a month in the light green colour of newly sprouted saplings. His eyes transition to an amber gold colour, and his skin becomes a pale sapling white.
Summer is when the pine needles return in a dark shade of green. His skin becomes a light woodish brown colour similar to most wood used in carpentry. His eyes become an emerald green as well.
Personality: Before the arborealization, Warrick was a rough-and-tumble but kind hearted fellow who would have a little more of his share of drinks at every tavern. He was adventurous, bold, and boastful to the point of provocation, and the party endured waiting for him to be released after public drunkenness incarcerations more than once.
Now though, he is very different. He still likes the same things, befriends the same people, and believes the same beliefs, but since becoming a Woodling there are fundamental differences. Perhaps a large factor in the change is that Alcohol can no longer affect him, but one can observe that his personality changes with the cycle of nature just as his appearance does. He also has begun to think in some ways that are completely alien to blooded creatures, making him come across as somewhat loony.
He is most like his old self during the summer, when he is bold, vigorous, and full of life. He will boast and be eager for battle and hunting, and be generally bombastic and celebratory. But in the Winter he becomes much more introverted and ponderous. He is more agreeable and considerate during the Winter, more emotionally soft.
Background: When the group first met Warrick, we was not what he is now. He was originally a member of a nomadic semi-civil tribe that inhabited the borders of the northern wastes. He lived as a hunter and warrior amongst his people, until one day two white dragons fought and one was killed. He knew where that dragon had lain eggs, so he dug up the nest and took an egg to sell at the world renowned city of magic; Centris.
The disaster struck while he was there though, and during the fight for survival the egg was broken, and he was never able to get his money for it. Fate had chosen to compensate his loss though, in the people he escaped with. Skyla, Ven, Neva and Grunatharl accompanied on many lucrative adventures since then, and he has gained far more than he would have from a single dragon egg.
One day, not unreasonably long ago, they came across a lone Oak Tree in the rolling hills of the rural Human Empire. Warrick became fascinated with the tree for some reason he could not explain, and practically forced the party to camp under it for the night. It had turned out that Warrick had been bewitched into staying by Bree, the Dryad of the tree, who needed them to help her protect her tree against a Cruel Hill Giant that kept coming back to try and pull it down. Once the tree was safe, the Dryad shyly thanked them before disappearing into her tree. But even once released from the spell, Warrick was still charmed. He kept returning to the tree whenever he could, talking to it, sitting against it, and writing it bad poetry. He had fallen in love with the Dryad, and in time it grew to love him back. And in their romance, he became bonded to the tree as well, and grew to become the spirit of nature that he is.
Last edited by Jocularity; 04-09-2011 at 06:55 AM.
Race: Wild Elf Natural Were Leopard
Age: 25 (I never liked the elf starting age of like 100...)
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (Not the evil kind)
Class: Were-leopard 7/Monk Variant "Sleeping Tiger" 2/Warshaper 1
Last edited by TCSilvermane; 03-07-2011 at 11:37 PM.