Characters Character Roster

hvg3akaek · #1 05-27-2008, 05:01 AM

Please give an introduction/description of your character in this thread.
From now on, characters without descriptions will only gain 1/2 XP! (Don't worry, new players will all have at least one XP hand-out of grace, so introduce yourselves in game before worrying about this!)

Hyregoth: Tynan Calder (tiefling warlord, mk2)
Coeur de Lion: Caerwil Maethor-Taurë (elven ranger)
Master of Monsters: Manneo (goliath fighter)

Fuller · #2 05-27-2008, 07:59 PM

Name: TYNAN CALDER
Gender: Male
Race / Class: Tiefling Warlord

‘There are those who call us demons. I pity these people for their ignorance, but I will not lift my blade towards them. Such was the way of my elders – power-hungry and bloodthirsty; a stereotype I do not wish to carry. We are the cursed ones, the final remnants of the glorious nation of Bael Turath. The prejudice against us is not unjust, I suppose, and I venture in order to change that.’

Background:

The nation of Bael Turath always kept a strong military tradition, so no one was surprised when a young Tynan joined the Wayfarers, a group of mercenaries who helped lead caravans and wagons through remote territories. It was here his skills as a natural leader were recognized, and soon the tiefling became a figure of authority in the band. Soon after he was elevated to his position, however, prejudice towards his race, both from the inside and outside, began to form. The Wayfarers found it increasingly difficult to find a contract, and many began to blame Tynan.

In what was the ultimate betrayal, a group of his colleagues plotted to kill him while he was sleeping. His fate was only averted by the loyalty of one of his men, a half-elf by the name of Venturo, who warned him of the plan. Hearing the news, Tynan decided it would be best to flee. He had no place with the Wayfarers anymore. So he left that night, striking out on his own, hoping to through off the bias towards his race by proving his worth.

Personality:

Above all, Tynan views honour and loyalty as the most important quality a person could have. Thus, he rarely lies, and always keeps his word. For better or worse, he views all people as trustworthy unless they prove otherwise, though he is not careless. He is good at heart, but dislikes people who hold ill views against his race. In battle, however, a darker side of him often appears.

Appearance:

See Pre-made Character Sheet.

Information above is subject to change in the next few days.

orcbane · #3 05-29-2008, 08:03 PM

Name: Garthel Cralfretter
Gender: Male
Character: Halfling Rogue
Background: Garthel was raised by parents that enjoyed spending time in "ope" dens more than spending time with their numerous children. Garthel was the youngest of these children and as such saw no reason or need to look out for his siblings. Living in their small, dirty home that usually contained little to know food is what first lead Garthel to the streets, where he quickly found himself a new home among one thieving gang or another. Over the years his disconnection to his family grew and as he would move from city to city, he gradually lost all track of his family to the point where he now has no knowledge of where any of them are, or even if any are still alive.

His early years were as part of the Hornbold Cutpurse Crew which was little more than a gathering of rascal children. As he gained his skills more powerful gangs grew interested in his potential and he was recruited into Hornbold's most powerful group of thieves: The Black Blade Society. His initiation gave him his first kill, and he was granted his black-metal dagger, the weapon and symbol of the gang. A few years later Garthel made a play for power when he shouldn't have, and had to make a quick and quiet getaway from Hornbold. Disguised as a potato merchant, he made his way south and has moved from city to city every year or two out of fear that "The Society" will track him down.

Now he find himself freshly-arrived in Winterhaven and begins searching out the local underground and criminal scene.

Personality: Living on the streets taught him that the world is dog-eat-dog, and as a halfling, he is a very little dog. Rather than let this dissuade him, he simply adopted the philosophy that as the littlest dog, he would have to show no restraint and constantly bite as hard as he knew how. His skill is readily apparent to those who see him in action and he has occasioned to impress battle-hardened soldiers and his fellow thieves alike (though he can't say as much for the arrogant templars that trounce about with their noses in the clouds). Because of this philosophy, Garthel lives life hard. Fight hard, sleep hard, play hard, practice hard, party hard. Nothing is worth doing soft and the world waits for no halfling, so you better keep up!

Appearance: Garthel is not so grim as many thieves are. He enjoys his work and sees no reason not to let that enjoyment play on his face. His semi-curly brown hair is let to mess around his head, which sometimes makes it hard for other to notice his dark green eyes sizing them up from between the locks. The skin on his head and forearms is tan from their exposure to the sun, but the skin beneath his clothes are an almost pasty pale. He stand no taller or thicker than the common halfling and probably wouldn't stand out in a crowd unless he happened to have that glee-filled sparkle in his eye that matches the mischievous set to his grin and the stealthy lack of reflection that the sun would normally make on the blade of his exposed knife.

Caveman · #4 05-30-2008, 04:14 AM

Name: Thulfir Mondara
Race/Gender: Male Human
Class: Wizard
Background:

Thulfir was born in the small market town of Castbridge. The town was situated at the last bridge to the north over the river Cast, a major trade route from the Channel Sea to the main part of the inland kingdom. To the east of Castbridge lay the famed Elad'Isle where a monastery of Eladrin scholars had been established some decades after the last elfwars. As a result of this proximity Castbridge, too, had become known as a place of scholarship, and a number of small, private and church run colleges were founded.
Thulfir's father was an honest workman who had the good fortune to be employed by St Cuthbert's College as a handyman - a position that paid poorly, but came with a small house and plot of land to grow food. It also allowed his son to be educated for free in the normally very expensive college, and so it was that a boy from such humble beginnings was exposed to the world of wealth and power that arcane skill opened up. Thulfir struggled all the way through college, never able to afford the expensive books and components that his peers could, nor the private tuition that the other students got - but he succeeded on natural wit and hard graft - emerging after his seven years as a fully fledged wizard, the powers of light and dark, the very fabric of reality his to command (or at least ask politely to do him a favour).
Once graduated Thulfir made straight for the city, taking a job as a caravan guard - and now that he had his powers actually being reasonably well paid for it. Now, newly arrived, he is looking for companions to go exploring with - there are so many dark, unexplored places in the land, so many ruins, so much knowledge and so much adventure to be had, he can't wait!

Physical Description:

Thulfir stands just shy of six feet in height - though from a monetarily poor background, there was always enough food to be had as a child, and then as a student the meals were provided in the college, so as a result of this (and alot of sedentary reading) Thulfir is proportionally well covered for his height. His soft appearance belies his razor sharp mind, and one only has to meet the man's eye to realise the fierce intelligence and drive to better himself that burns within. Thulfir tends to dress conservatively in loose robes that allow free spellcasting movement, and carries a staff (more for show than anything else) and a wand prominently displayed in his belt (not for show...). Unruly curls of dark hair fall about his forehead and down to his collar, just falling short of his intense brown eyes.

Character and motivations:

Thulfir's primary drive is the desire to be better than his forbears - to see more, do more and to enrich his line by his own hard work. The ethic of toil that his father instilled has been married to a naturally gifted and now well-trained mind, and as a result Thulfir is the sort of man to concentrate on solving a problem, work out the best way of doing it and then work at it until the problem no longer exists. He's probably a little intense, but he likes a laugh, and he gets on well with most folk, having mixed with all levels of society - though he is still not comfortable with the aristocracy or the arrogant rich. Thulfir believes in teamwork, and he knows his place is not at the front of more physical challenge, but supporting, planning and directing - after all why strain yourself if you know how a lever works?

Martini Saint · #5 05-30-2008, 04:45 PM

Name: Mael'lax
Race: Dragonborn
Gender: Male
Class: Paladin

Appearance:

As with all dragonborn, Mael'lax appears as a very rugged and stout bipedal lizard. Deep blue scales cover his body and his three-fingered hands end in bone-white talons. Though many find the appearance of dragonborn to be intimidating at first, Mael'lax seldom gets that reaction as his soft mannerisms and clear golden eyes seem to speak of kindness before he ever speaks. Though he has spent the last several years in little more than overalls or britches, his armor is kept meticulously polished.

Background/Personality:

Mael'lax is a stranger to this area. He has been working at some menial jobs in a small coastal town called Johann's Landing for several years. Although the jobs he performed could be considered lowly by some, he didn't mind at all and appreciated the work. He came to truly enjoy living in that small little town and had no intention of leaving it for the foreseeable future. Of course, Bahamut willed something else as he came to see when he was contacted through a courier by Marla of the Great Church. He, of course, sent word to the church when he arrived in the area, as is proper, but never expected anything to come of it. When the young priestess informed him that a demon worshiping cult may have established itself in or near Winterhaven, Mael'lax knew his simple life had to come to a close. Johann's Landing is situated close enough to be in possible danger or, at the very least, influence from this threat; thus, Mael'lax packed up his few items, bid everyone farewell and set out to discover the truth of this matter.

Coming from lands far to the east, he has a thick accent, even for a dragonborn who always sound somewhat odd to the other races due to their unique jaw structure. Although he is a paladin by training and belief, he never was quite the same as his colleagues. Whereas most served Bahamut by charging headlong into battle, whether verbal or physical, screaming out the dragon god's name as a battlecry, Mael'lax is far more reserved. He'll fight when required, of course, and is proficient at doing so; however, he prefers patience to rashness and dialogue to brute force. This is not to say he's a pacifist, far from it, Following the will of Bahamut requires brutality at times, but it is far less than many believe it or wish it to be.

Mael'lax is incredibly soft-spoken for a dragonborn. This comes largely out of his uncertainty about the land he is in, but also just from his personality itself. He is polite nearly to a fault and respects others' views and beliefs as long as they are not at odds with his own. He believes that conversion or demonstrating the righteousness of the path of Bahamut is not something that can be done with the force of steel or even the power shown through belief, rather, it is something that people come to realize after seeing the god work within those who chose to follow him. Thus, Mael'lax does not actively try to convert people, rather, he attempts to live his life as he believes his god wills and allows others to come to him if they are interested in learning more.

Chronicler · #6 06-04-2008, 11:32 AM

Name: Rayuth Aksin
Gender/Race/Class: Male Half-Elf Cleric of Bahamut
Physical Description: Rayuth stands at about five feet tall, wearing fairly well-crafted chain mail that looks as though it has gone through very few battles.
He has gray eyes, dark brown hair (to the point where it's nearly black), and generally seems steeled in his beliefs.
At his side hang a mace, made of steel and with a blunt-looking head, and a crossbow, to which a small case is attached. You can tell that the crossbow is fairly new, but it seems that the mace has seen a tiny bit of use.
Personality: Rayuth is self-righteous to the point where one nearly needs to create a new word for the feeling. He believes in his faith with such "ferocity" that it becomes impossibly difficult to convince him of anything, although he does believe in some things that are not within the code of Bahamut.
He is not a chaotic being at heart, preferring to follow his faith and his personal beliefs everywhere. In that sense he is not truly a typical half-elf.
Background: Rayuth was born into a xenophobic human town, where he was rejected as a "half-breed," hated by the rest of the town. In order to escape the misery he was in due to this rejection and hate, Rayuth turned to the only person he felt he could turn to: the god Bahamut. Since then, the teachings of Bahamut have shaped his life, and he suffers misery with ease, as he seems to be at peace with his god and with himself, and he in fact looks with pity at those who are not so fortunate. He was taught these teachings through the local priest of Bahamut, who had always felt sorry for him but not been able to do anything about what was happening, no matter how much he disapproved of it. However, when Rayuth came to him in order to learn and in order to draw what happiness he could out of his life, he felt no reason not to accept. He died a year after accepting, and that was the first and last time Rayuth truly mourned for anybody in his village. Some say that that was the day he gained his great faith, many of them thinking that the god spoke to him. Rayuth knows that this is not the case. He lived for a few years in a small town near the local church, but then left to travel and bring the truths of Bahamut to others.

Morvik · #7 06-08-2008, 10:32 AM

Name: Abraxas Lundari
Race: Dragonborn, Male
Class: Paladin

Background:
Abraxas was born unto a brass draconian civilization in the mountainous city of Medacoa. The city overlooked Winterhaven off far in the distance. His parents encouraged the path of the holy warrior to fight for righteousness as Bahamut would have of him, after his brother, Jormung, became the newest warlord of his clan.

During the course of learning how to fight, by his teacher and father Serrush, A dark man visited from the lower lands and caused no trouble. Although after he left, several weeks later several of the head chieftains of the Dragonborn community died including Abraxas' Father. The paladins and clerics deduced that the deaths were from a disease that started out nearly unnoticeable till weeks passed and the disease spiked up in potency till fatal. His brother, mother, and Abraxas grieved for Serrush for many nights when he passed.

He set out from Medacoa to continue his training amongst the intriguing fleshlings and to join the Great Church of Bahamut to help in his personal crusade against evil.

Abraxas was tipped off by a young priestess, a group of cultists traveled in group to the city of Winterhaven, he and several others packed their belongings and set out to investigate the research that would enrich their lives with adventure.

Personality:
Abraxas has a great sense of justice and honor, he is sometimes rash, and will speak first before thinking on times. He is very proud of his Dragonborn heritage and becomes overzealous if people talk ill about him pertaining to his race. He is optimistic and often stubborn when he sets a goal for himself. He is often intrigued by the ways of the other races although he is naive to the customs of most of other people except to those that he has met in the church.

Physical Description:
Standing at a height over 6'4", Abraxas is a scaly reptilian biped with an above average physique, brass scales, and a almost crocodilish snout. He has yellow eyes with black slit pupils. Casually Abraxis wears thin loose leather vestments. In battle though, he allows himself to be almost completely covered by his full plate suit crafted specifically for him featuring a shimmering gold outlining, the majority of the suit is painted or dyed green, and several silver markings of Bahamut on the the right arm, left knee, and back of the helmet. He polishes, and removes the dings from his armor whenever he can to keep pride in how he carries himself. He carries a longsword that has distinct shapes to further reveal the fact that he is a foreigner. The sword is curved with barbs on the opposite side of the blade and one shape barb toward the bottom of the bladed half to catch blades that may fall close. His shield carries the mark of Bahamut inlaid with various metals and is shaped much like a dragon's tooth.

mountainbound · #8 10-12-2008, 02:00 PM

Name: Baela
Class: Paladin of Olladra
Gender/Class: Female Tiefling

The flail, a wickedly spiked ball of iron on a chain, first catches the beggar's eye. Then he notices it's a woman's pale hand that holds it across her lap, her horse cantering along the muddy trail. Against his better judgment, the ragged man steps forward and dares beg a copper or some food from the lady. She wears an enameled breastplate, but the rest of her armor is strapped to the saddle behind her. The dappled mare she rides hardly looks the part for a warhorse, nor she a warrior. A set of dark glasses cover her eyes -- an unusual accessory for all but the rich. Though she has a regal bearing, her clothes are worn from travel: a wealthy noble she is not. The woman stops and asks the beggar his name. Introducing herself as Baela, she swings down and invites him to share the noon meal.

It is then that the man notices two white horns angling out from the fall of copper-red hair behind her ears. Her skin is freckled and unusually pale... with a jolt the realization hits that, despite the lack of a tail, the lady is tiefling -- a demon-spawn from the western wastes. The beggar backs away, but she persists in her invitation to lunch. She seems friendly enough... The man pauses. Offers for food in the wilderness were rare. After a moment, he sits down with the pale she-devil who calls herself Baela.

After the spartan meal of dried fish, the woman reclines and begins speaking. It seems she's been traveling alone from quite some time, and now rides north to Icetop, to join with old companions. Belly full yet still unsure of her motives, the beggar lets her say her peace.

"I was born on the road to Yrlag," she begins. "My parents were part of a small group in exile from our tribe. They were in search of a new home in the Eldeen Reaches. Exactly why they were cast out, I never learned."

She plucks a long shoot of grass and puts it between white teeth. "I see you noticed I don't have a tail. As a newborn, my parents cut it off, leaving only a small scar here." She motions to the small of her back. "I remember other children in the caravan having similar scars. But aside from chopping the tail, my parents kept many of the traditions and rituals of our kind, even in exile. One of which, the ritual called the Firefate, was the most important for a tiefling child to undergo. Maybe you've heard of it?" When the beggar doesn't respond, she continues. "It was my thirteenth birthday, and I can recall my father instructing me on what to do."

"'The Firefate must be conducted alone,' he said. 'It requires fire, first of all. In the burning Demon Wastes, fire is easy to come by. But here, in the forests of Eldeen,' for we had made it that far by this time, 'you must create your own. Once the flames rise high, eat the leaves.' He gave me six dried Ugk leaves, taken from the Lake of Fire region where they grow. 'Stare into the fire as the leaves take effect and think on your ancestors. The leaves will draw your spirit into whatever you are looking at. The fire will take you to the realms of our infernal fathers, where you will meet your forebears. They will judge you and decide your future, as they have for every member of our tribe.'"

Then she laughed. "That's what he said: like being judged by a demon is an appealing prospect to a thirteen year old, tiefling or not! Though terrified, I set out alone into the woods to complete the ritual."

"I made the fire, but then wandered off to sit beside a small pond nearby. Aspen and birch in the peak of their fall colors crowded it on every side. Listening to the frogs chirp, and watching the sun ripple on the water... it was then that the leaves began to have their effect. I felt outside myself, my spirit drawn into a scintillating realm of gold." Baela looks off into the horizon as she speaks, the grass shoot perched between white teeth as she remembers. "I met neither god nor devil that day, just silence and light. It was then I realized my path must be my own choosing, rather than some black fate decreed by my ancestors."

"When I wouldn't speak of the Firefate to my family, they grew suspicious. As the years wore on, the mystery over my fate formed a wedge between us all." She tosses the grass aside and begins picking up the remaining food. "I left my exiled family and was soon taken in by a group of Brothers dedicated to the Sovereign Host. I was seventeen. It was with them I rediscovered that place of silence within myself. But this time, it was a calling, and I could do nothing but surrender to it. From that time I dedicated myself to Olladra, and left the good Brothers to find my own way in the world."

Having replaced her packs upon the mare, she swings back into the saddle. Then, gazing down at the beggar, she removes the small glasses. He winces visibly to see her eyes: two bright gold orbs with neither pupil or iris. Without the glasses there is no mistaking her fiendish ancestry. The poor man begins to stumble away, fearing the time for her to play her trick is at last upon him. "Come here," the she-devil commands. Her voice seems to compel the man against his will, and he slowly brings himself to stand below her, with the terrible flail once again across her lap. The two stare at each other for a moment, and Baela breaks the silence. "Take this. Go with Olladra's blessing," she says, then chides her horse on.

Slowly the beggar unwraps the bundle tossed down at him. An irrepressible grin creeps across his face as he looks inside: Three gold pennies and a loaf of bread!

**Admin Sedracus** · #9 02-17-2009, 08:43 AM

R.I.P.

Name: Dortak Whiskeydrinker of the Tribe of Many Barrels (ToMB)
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Class: Barbarian
Background:
Once upon a time, near Winterhaven, there was a mighty Orcish tribe, who loved their drinks. Because of the many barrels in their encampment, they were known as the Tribe of Many Barrels. At one time, a chieftain even used an empty barrel to break the head of a cowardly kobold assassin, who had sought to stab him in the back when he was inebriated! The chieftain, however, did not even bat an eye after having killed the would-be killer, and just called for more whiskey, after which he was granted the hereditary honorary name of Whiskeydrinker by the shaman, who also served as bartender, dispensing the orcish ‘holy water’ as needed. This chieftain was the grandfather of two very promising young orcs, whose names were Kraagor and Dortak. Kraagor had learned the ways of the warlock after having felt an infernal power seeping through his blood, and Dortak, the younger brother, had took up brawling with all his youthly enthusiasm, eventually learning the art of warfare and the basics of tribal leadership from his father. Finally, it was time for Dortak’s Rite of Hash’nak, which is the rite all sons of the tribe go through when they reach the age of maturity.

It was Dortak’s day of birth, and he was restrained to his quarters, bored out of his mind. His father had woken him up at dawn, laying a hand on his shoulder in a true father-son moment one last time before Dortak would become of age. Then, he left Dortak’s room, locking the door ensuring that Dortak be left alone for his Day of Nak’gur, which was the first part of the Rite of Hash’nak. During the Day of Nak’gur, the young warrior was to be left alone to think, to think about himself and become something more than the mindless grunts other orc tribes boasted, for a warrior who knew himself and knew why he fought, was a worthy warrior indeed. The sun rose and started to set while Dortak’s sense of self grew, eventually reaching a crescendo at nightfall, when all around his hut loud and hoarse orcish voices grunted out a cry to Gruumsh while the door clicked open. Dortak, clad in the ceremonial loincloth of his forefathers, stepped outside with a solemn look on his face, unknowing what would be his challenge in the second part of the Rite of Hash’nak – the Night of Gur’ilik. No torches burned outside, for light was weakness in orcish eyes who could see perfectly in the dark, and Dortak could see clearly the face of the elder shaman facing him at the end of a long corridor of all the tribe’s warriors with weapons drawn. Dortak strode forward arrogantly, wondering what in the world he was supposed to do.

The moment Dortak neared the Shaman, the warriors stepped out of their lines in a coordinated, which they had performed many times before, and each and every one of them had been in Dortak’s place once before already. They formed a circle around Dortak, with the Shaman standing amongst them. Then, the Shaman spoke ominously. ”Young warrior, you have come to prove your worth as a member of our tribe, the Tribe of Many Barrels. You have sunk into yourself during the Day of Nak’gur, and your mind has been steeled. The first part of the Rite of Hash’nak has been completed, it is now time for the Night of Gur’ilik, in which you prove your valor in combat! Now, you either die a failure, or join us a man, a mighty warrior of the Tribe of Many Barrels! Prove your worth against this enemy of Gruumsh!”

The orcs all around grunted out loud in unity as the great-tusked shaman grabbed behind his back, tossing a goblin into the circle which had just been unbound, while Dortak’s father, the current chieftain, watched on expectantly to see if his teachings had been sufficient. The scared goblin started circling Dortak with a wary look in its eyes, ready to flail out with clawed hands. Dortak started circling as well, before suddenly stapping across the circle towards the goblin, grabbing its wrists and bowing down, butting his head into its skull dazing the disgusting creature. The goblin kicked up, catching Dortak in the shins, and he shouted out in rage, not because of the pain, but because he had not wanted the goblin to get even a single hit in on him. Dortak released one of the goblin’s wrists as he grasped the little thing’s neck, then releasing the other wrist as well as the goblin started choking, grabbing it between the legs and lifting it up in the air over his own head, squeezing hard with both hands before smashing it down hard, head first into the dirt, watching proudly as he heard its neck snap upon impact with the ground. The orcs around him banged their weapons on their shields and grunted as Dortak’s father stood. ”Proud warrior of the Tribe of Many Barrels, you have proven your worth! Kneel, and hold up your hands.” Dortak instantly did what his father decreed, and knelt. The younger warriors around him all looked confused, while a hint of recognition glinted in the eyes of the older grizzled fighters. ”Dortak, my warrior-son. I now gift you this axe, Raakhubish, which has been passed down from father to warrior-son through the ages! This very axe was the axe that executed the goblin warrior-king Blacktooth, taking these very hills for our tribe! Now join your brethren, for you have proven your worth. May you slaughter many enemies with Raakhubish!”

That night, there was much drink and merry-making to be had, but luckily he remembered all of it afterwards. The following year he continued to learn about the way to tap into the primal rage of nature and the ways of leadership of a tribe, until famine hit the tribe. Kraagor and he were sent to the seer Alkha’riz in a far-off land hundreds of territories from here to seek out how to undo this famine and bring welfare back to the tribe, but upon hearing of the death of the res t of the Tribe of Many Barrels in a cowardly assault, Kraagor and Dortak set about to find the butchers.

Coeur de Lion · #10 02-22-2009, 07:21 PM

Name: Caerwil Maethor-Taurë
Gender: Male
Race: Elf
Class: Ranger

Background:
Caerwil hails from the elven forests to the south of Winterhaven. The son of a minor elven noble, he has a rather superior view of the world. Schooled from a young age that the elves are the highest of all races upon the realms, he does lack compassion on occasions, though this has softened in recent times as his travels and experience have provided him with a different perspective.

His skill with the bow earned him the position in the Cloaked Rangers, a small but dedicated group of hunters (entirely Elven) dedicated to the protection of the elven forests and hunting down any rogue elements that may infringe upon their domain.

Having received word of a death cult operating nearby, he was despatched to seek out the cause and eliminate it. He was sent to a temple of the Raven Queen to discuss it with the priests and priestesses there and was asigned to Gideon, the rather excitable and raw devotee of the Queen. The trail brough them to Winterhaven...

KithKunabi · #11 02-22-2009, 08:41 PM

Name: Gideon Broomsweep
Race: Halfling
Gender: Male
Class: Warlord

"C'mon, Let me help, pleeeeease?"
The earnest halfling swung his tiny legs back and forth as he looked up eagerly at the Mother Superior of the local Church to the Raven Queen.

"Brother Gideon, you know, as well as I do, that The Mistress of the Eternal Night has not seen fit to welcome you into her clergy yet. As such, I must, once again, tell you that until she sees fit to do so, your devotion is best shown through the excellent work you do in keeping this place spotless."

Gideon frowned up at her as she said the words he had heard many a time before.

"Oh, but pulllllllease! I know I could be a good cleric to The Lady!... I just... need to prove myself.... I want to be one ever so badly! The Servants of the One Who Brings Dreamless Rest have practically raised me!"

"... They have raised you, Gideon. Ever since you showed up in that basket..."
"I Know! Can you believe it !? It's like I'm destined to serve Her!"

"And yet, she has not seen fit to grant power to your intercessions for the spirits. As such, you cannot assist in matters of the church, except for the maintenance you perform"

"...But I've studied...."
"Yes, I know this Gideon. You have studied constantly, but your prayers do not harness any power."

"But...."
"Oh come now Gideon, do not let yourself be depressed about this. Perhaps she thinks you are best used for the janitorial position you hold, and keeps divine power from you to keep you from being distracted?"
"Does she? I mean, you could ask her..."
"Ummmm... The Queen of Inevitability is too busy to pose such a question to."
".... Right.... Forgot."

"Again, I am sorry Gideon... but if something comes up where you can be of aid, I'll be sure to let you know."

"... Okay Mother Superior."
"Alright then, now, please leave me to my divinations, someone important is going to die soon, and we'll need to have a clergy member on hand to take care of the corpse almost before it hits the ground."
"Yes Mother." Gideon said as he slipped off his chair, shoulders slumped. He gave her a small bow before he departed.

The Mother Superior rubbed her temples as she turned back to the orb on the right side of her desk. "Oh Ruler of Those Who No Longer Draw Breath.... Deliver unto me a way to get rid of that earnestly serving, but aggravating janitor."

Her Orb swirls darkly, and she nods appreciatively. "Yes, that will work nicely. He'll probably enjoy it too... until he meets Your Sweet Embrace, My Queen."

Hyregoth · #12 02-24-2009, 11:25 PM

Name: Tynan Calder
Gender: Male
Race / Class: Tiefling Warlord

‘There are those who call us demons. I pity these people for their ignorance, but I will not lift my blade towards them. Such was the way of my elders – power-hungry and bloodthirsty; a stereotype I do not wish to carry. We are the cursed ones, the final remnants of the glorious nation of Bael Turath. The prejudice against us is not unjust, I suppose, and I venture in order to change that.’

Background:

The nation of Bael Turath always kept a strong military tradition, so no one was surprised when a young Tynan joined the Wayfarers, a group of mercenaries who helped lead caravans and wagons through remote territories. It was here his skills as a natural leader were recognized, and soon the tiefling became a figure of authority in the band. Soon after he was elevated to his position, however, prejudice towards his race, both from the inside and outside, began to form. The Wayfarers found it increasingly difficult to find a contract and many began to blame Tynan.

In what was the ultimate betrayal, a group of his colleagues plotted to kill him while he was sleeping. His fate was only averted by the loyalty of one of his men, a Dwarf by the name of Vigmarr, who warned him of the plan. Hearing the news, Tynan decided it would be best to flee. He had no place with the Wayfarers anymore. So he left that night, striking out on his own, hoping to throw off the bias towards his race by proving his worth.

Personality:

Above all, Tynan views honour and loyalty as the most important quality a person could have. Thus, he rarely lies, and always keeps his word. For better or worse, he views all people as trustworthy unless they prove otherwise, though he is not careless. He is good at heart, but dislikes people who hold ill views against his race. In battle, however, a darker side of him often appears.

Appearance:

Tynan's appearance is a testament to his infernal bloodline. He has large horns, a thick, nonprehensile tail that is about 5 feet long. Sharp, pointed teeth and eyes that are solid orbs of red. His skin color varies only in its shades of red (from a rust to a brick red).
His hair cascades down from behind his horns and is the color of a ravens feather.
Tynan favors dark colors and reds, leathers and glossy furs, small spikes and buckles. His Tiefling crafted arms and armor have an archaic style, harkening back to the glory of their long vanished empire.

Master of Monsters · #13 05-08-2009, 11:40 PM

Name: Jivin
Race: Drow
Class: Sorcerer

Appearance:
Coated in thin robes, Jivin is not like many drow you've seen before. His skin has a very distinct red hue to it and his hair is closer to pink then to pure white. These differences in appearance are not genetic, though, but more of willing 'mutations' made to him through my years of use of draconic magic.

As far as personality goes, Jivin is not far from your run of the mill drow. He thinks all races are inferior to drow and that it’s a waste of his time not to kill them, but he is forced to over look these differences and work with other races.

Background/Personality:
Jivin was born to a small noble house in a large drow city under the keep on the shadowfell. When reports of a group trying to reopen the rift to the shadowfell reached the drow city, Jivin’s matron mother saw an opportunity that she could not pass up. Jivin’s matron mother thinks that if she is able to claim responsibility for the rift not opening, that she could elevate her own standing(and that of her family) to the upper rungs of the cities political powers. Thus she sent out Jivin with an order to not return until he made sure the shadowfell remained closed.

UncaJJ · #14 06-02-2009, 06:42 PM

Name: Darrak
Race: Cloaked Duergar
Gender: Male
Class: Wizard 2

Appearance: Cloaked in an enveloping cloak of illusion, Darrak appears to be the size of a normal human or elf. When his hood is down, he stands 4'6" and 210 lbs with grey hair and black eyes and a very short beard for ease of maintenance.

Background/Personality: Having traveled with Jivin for some time, Darrak does not appear to be evil in the way that the Drow was. His stated goal is only to keep the Shadowfell from encroaching on this plane of existence.

Master of Monsters · #15 11-10-2009, 03:42 PM

Name: Manneo
Race: Goliath
Gender: Male
Class: Fighter

Appearance:

Tall and bulky, Manneo is your typical Goliath. His armor of choice is scale, and he prefers any two handed weapon he can find, but is most partial to polearms. His head is shaved clean, and his skin his a ruddy gray and appears as if cut from the side of a mountain.

Background/Personality:

Manneo is large and lethargic, but once battle begins he is furious and precise. He has a talent for tactical fights, but also can move from foe to foe without drawing much attention from surrounding foes.