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Old Dec 6th, 2016, 06:08 AM
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Introduce Yourself for a Third Time!

Here is a thread to introduce your character. Basically, make a post describing what your character looks like and who they are. Also give a bit of back story as to where they have come from, possibly any goals they might have, and so on. A portrait of your character would also be most helpful!

This would get done over time, during meetings, whilst walking, or back in town. But it is probably easier to flick back to a single thread than track down that one that had the specific intro to someone.

Anyway, post below, edit as you like, feel free to add in back story as told by your character, etc Remember, this is a tool for the other players to recognise and relate to your character, so put in anything you think is vital or obvious, and don't add things which would not be known.

I will update the links as people's intros come in.

quicklinks to party members
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Last edited by hvg3akaek; Aug 5th, 2019 at 04:17 AM.
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Old Dec 6th, 2016, 08:59 PM
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Marcan (full name: Marcanincia Limnades Legalleaf, but nobody has time for that...) claims that his mother was a nymph, and his father was a successful halfling. (Well, he wooed a nymph, didn't he?) Having lived a spoiled life with both his mother's people (who saw him as a novelty) and his fathers people (who were just really impressed and awed by his ... charisma), he entered the world a few pegs higher than he should have, and has been severely beaten back since. Not having the company of siblings, Marcan has never had to look out for anyone other than himself, and so as he developed his powers, it was no surprise that most of them were built around building him up, and hampering other people. Over his life, he has had many adventures, some short, ie, lost in site archivessome forgotten, ie, not on RPGX!some in other realms, some even seemingly in another life!

Marcan is short, even for a halfling. His hair is thick and dark, whilst his skin is a little more pale than most, due to his preference for staying inside, or at least in the shadows, whenever possible. Marcan always dresses his best, and the small touch of grey in his hair has only added another layer of class to that which he naturally possesses. Once upon a time, he had a slim figure, but these days, the many years of not needing to walk anywhere have not done the best for his waistline - sampling all sorts of delicacies without exercising as one should has left him a little plumper than...well...most other halflings. Mostly, he relies on his outlandish good looks (again, claimed to be of fey descent) and sly wit to get him where his meagre strength fails. His "runt of the runts" status lead to many an awful practical joke in his youth. And his older years. And, indeed to this day. Despite this, he holds his head high (he has to, in order to see over anything), and has no time for those who would see him as beneath their status. He focuses on teleporting around the place and striking from hiding. Or running away, if the situation seems bad enough. Marcan is a sneaky, humorous chap with little care for others (but no ill-wishing), but can be convinced to team up if it means more for him!

Most recently, within the next five years to be precise, Marcan went will go through a bit of a 'dark patch', as his life came comes crushing down around him on the news of his mother's death. His fey patron was will be allowed to play second to a darker, more maligned shadow of a figure, who promised will promise revenge and a numbness from all sorrow. For a time, he relented will relent, wallowed in his pity, and became become an all-round bore of a fellow.

Until finally, his fey patron had will have had enough. They stepped in, with some bright and sparkling power from beyond, and wooed Marcan back from the shadows. Of course, to properly do that, there had to be some slight time-fudging, and Marcan lost about five years of his life. no longer with memories of those times, nor of his 'falling to the dark side', the cheerful fellow continues on as he once was, but with a little more spark in his eyes.

Currently Playing: Scorcherer Ithyromelle, Marcan, and Ireena.
Allan, Ethronon, Othatheth, and Jones, not so much.

Last edited by The Third; Dec 7th, 2016 at 01:45 AM.
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Old Dec 6th, 2016, 11:47 PM
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Name :: Vrezhe Slimescale, Host of the Still Waters

Race :: Kobold, and also Swamp (Genasi, Hamadryad)

Class :: Natural Alchemist (Artificer, MC Druid)

Description :: A bit wizened, Vrezhe is otherwise a prime example of a healthy, tricksy kobold. His dark red and midnight blue scales mesh in an almost careful pattern, letting a hint of structure peak out from behind the patchwork leather armor. Various bandoliers and pouches dangle, laden with vials and twisted up satchets. An unassuming, pitted sickle and poorly strung small crossbow hang from his belt.

Personality :: Having started life as essentially a con, Vrezhe spends much of his time sorting through his options and finding ways to maximize what will come of them. For what is usually supposed to be a shortlived and shortsighted species, he is exceptionally focused on the future. While his knowledge is extensive, he has little interest in showing it off, being much more interested in applying it where it is needed. It hasn't won him many accolades, but where he has made himself a presence he has proven indispensible. He also has a strange, off-kilter sense of humor; it comes from spending so much time talking to spirits. Different things are funny to things that usually exist outside time and space.

Background ::

Mechanics ::


Last edited by hvg3akaek; Dec 8th, 2016 at 02:36 AM.
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Old Dec 7th, 2016, 07:01 AM
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Last edited by hvg3akaek; Aug 5th, 2019 at 04:18 AM. Reason: Consumed by ethereal marauders
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Old Dec 7th, 2016, 06:43 PM
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Last edited by hvg3akaek; Jan 11th, 2018 at 08:23 PM. Reason: Petrified at the entrance to the demi-plane
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Old Dec 8th, 2016, 09:45 PM
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Templeton Gloaming

Class: Rogue
Paragon Path: Daggermaster
Epic Destiny: Thief of Legend

Race: Human
Alignment: "Unaligned" (Good)

Appearance: A smirk. A splendid sort of smirk, one that inspires a sort of grudging admiration even as one struggles with the urge not to strike this particular smirk square in in its perfect teeth. Somewhere behind that smirk stands Templeton Gloaming. Not a prepossessing fellow, smirk aside; short of stature, slight of build, bland of feature. And that's fine. That's how Templeton prefers it. The greatest thief of this (or any other) age wants his name to be known, wants wealthy men to clutch their gold all the tighter at the sound of it.

But his face? Let that remain a secret.

Personality: Templeton is who he is, for better or for worse. Usually for worse, but there's no one better at being worse...or so Templeton claims. In truth, he's not nearly so wicked as he likes to think. A facade of cynicism serves to mask a very soft heart, one that has gotten Templeton into a great deal of trouble over the years. He reflexively denies his own good deeds when asked about them, preferring to boast about his many impossible thefts. Templeton, it seems, has stolen from demons, from dragons, from necromancers, and from more than a few entirely mundane misers. He has "stolen" prisoners from captivity, souls from Hell, and phylacteries from liches.

In short, Templeton has stolen only from those who richly deserved to be stolen from: monsters, villains, and forces infernal. This choice of victims says a great deal about the man.

History: "My history is a dreary one, unworthy of retelling save as an curative for those suffering from insominia. This is not to say that said history been entirely without incident, only that there are nothing worth mentioning in company so august as this. That I have slain dragons is in no way remarkable: are there any here who cannot say the same?

"No? None? I am dismayed! From your countenances, I had thought you all heroes of one sort or another! Not that I myself lay claim to any such appellation, it must be understood; I am a by profession a thief, and thieves are not, by the very definition, heroes of any sort. On the contrary, we are villains! Scoundrels! This is a harsh truth, perhaps, but a truth nevertheless. In the course of my thefts I have, I suppose, had what might be vulgarly called an 'adventure' or two...but this is the nature of true thievery! Were it easy, it would be called something else entirely! I would propose 'Harpaxery' as a term for such endeavors, after an individual of my acquaintance who practices this dubious art. That his name is in no way familiar to any of you serves to confirm that I have given him precisely the honor that he most deserves.

"Be that as it may, I suppose that I could offer a few anecdotes for your consideration. Trifling things, of course, but sufficient diversion for such a night as this.

"To begin, I must confess that I never knew my parents. My mother left before I was born. But shed no tears for Templeton, friends! I was raised by the city of Waterdeep itself, and her darkest alleyways were my playpen...."

(Templeton's parents are bakers. He sends them a steady stream of gold under a variety of different names, none of which fool them. They are quite proud of him, despite the reputation he cultivates.)

"...and so I left the city of my birth, with a howling mob upon my heels and a price upon my head. The mob, I quickly lost. The price, well...that has only grown in the years since. As my presence here tonight will attest, that price remains unclaimed. But, to resume my tale: I was free, and I was wealthy beyond all the dreams of avarice. I considered for a time the virtues of retirement to a country estate, where my takings could be spent to my best advantage, but alas! It is not in my nature to stand idle, and the joys of indolence soon paled. The final blow was struck when a rumor reached my ear, of a vast and hidden treasure guarded by beasts most ferocious and traps most devious. A challenge, in short, worthy of a master thief. I set forth without delay, gathering to my side companions very nearly as villainous as myself. We were known to the common folk as the 'Gloaming Gang'...."

(The Copper Mask, a renowned company of adventurers, was never known to anyone as the Gloaming Gang, despite Templeton's best efforts.)

"...thus, however reluctantly, I parted ways with my companions. I had little choice, after all! My terrible wickedness had condemned me to Hell. The Ninth Hell, I hasten to add; the worst Hell of them all, where only the most evil of souls are bound. I could not deny the myriad of charges against me, and so I resigned myself to a terrible fate...."

(Templeton's descent to Hell was entirely of his own volition, as part of a raid that he himself planned to free the soul of a fallen comrade from the shackles of Asmodeus.)

"...with that, I was free. As free, to be clear, as any man can be who has earned the enmity of the Archfiend himself. But enough of my trifling misadventures, my friends! Surely you have stories of your own to tell?"
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Old Dec 13th, 2016, 05:47 AM
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Last edited by hvg3akaek; Jan 11th, 2018 at 08:23 PM. Reason: horribly killed by Zakum, the djinn
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Old Jan 10th, 2017, 11:25 PM
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Name: Shiva the Fierce Rain
Race: Water Gensai
Class: Whirlwind Barbarian/Ranger
Paragon : Winter Fury
Epic: Fury of the Wild
Alignment: Neuteral Good
Background: Wetlands +2 Athletics, Nature


Shiva was a beauty to be hold but a burden the bare for her beauty is that of the grace of water but her approachability as cold as the ice that accents her features. Her hair appears to have once been raven black but is now covered in a blue frost. Her eyes so captivating and beautiful they are like the deep blue sea and her skin as fair as a winter snow.


The Winter Warrior Princess is as fickle as that as a winter's storm for she can be as harsh and unforgiving or as sustaining as a fresh spring in a desert tundra. Normally she does not bother herself with callous emoitions being direct and straight forward with little understanding for matters of the heart for hers is as cold as ice. It has been said however that when she changes between her ice form to that of the water her frozen heart melts for a time and the cold wall she has built upon her heart can alas be penetrated. Shiva is now without humor however, hers just belays the lack of compassion she has towards others at times. She is a warrior tried and true.

HistoryThey had searched far and wide for the lands greatest heroes but it was not until they haventured deep into the jungles of Angromar that thetmy started to hear the whispers of one of the mightiest of warriors. She lived deep in the forrest protecting it as its guardian and handing out justice with unrepentant anger.

Her blades were swift and moved across the battlefield in a whirlwind of rafmge tsking down waves of her foes at one time. The lengend was told that when an army came to clear cut the forest she tore through them like an unrelenting tidal wave clesring their army of every last remenent of life. To crosd Shivs eas to die.

The lengends however never spoke of her oblique past or how the gensai of water came to be in the jungle to begin with, far from the oceans of her people. It was said if you managed to hold conversation with the primal warrior such thoughts flew out of your head when captivated by her beauty. She was no seductress but her warrior princess predilection would rival that of an amazon.

Shiva had recently cleared out a cult of Yuan-ti oppresors when she first received the message from Grand Master Zhanshu He. It explained how a mutual friend from her homeland Kaddim-Sul was in need of assistance with matters farther north. The gensai had saved her life in the past and she did indeed owe him a life debt as much as it irked her to admit it. She was not one to enjoy being saved let alone having an outstanding debt. The chance to even out such a score while winning over the favor of the great Grand Master was more than she could resist. Taking the little she owned she started to make her way out of the wild jungles for which she had so long called home and back to the civilization she had abadoned so long ago.

Last edited by Avner; Jan 10th, 2017 at 11:44 PM.
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Old Jan 19th, 2017, 02:51 PM
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Old Jan 28th, 2017, 11:13 AM
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"The greatest battle is reconciling one's inner conflicts." -Shining Heaven and Path Mantra

Grand Master Zhanshu He
Founder of the Shining Heaven and Earth Path

Race: Storm/Earth Genasi
Class: Harrier Battlemind (Multiclass Monk)
Paragon Path: Soaring Blade
Epic Destiny: Topaz Crusader

Description: Among the eldest of the known Genasi in Faerun, Grand Master Zhanshu is easily recognizable with his distinct elemental skin markingsSzuldar depicting a dragon soaring across the clouds. He is able to manifest the Storm and Earths element in perfect unison that his body had become entirely something else - something unheard of until in recent memory: Elemental Harmony, the opposite of Elemental Tempests. In fact, decades devoted to intense training and hermetic meditation resulted in the formation of a Topaz crystal on his temple; his body golden like unpolished gem, and his Szuldar is iridescent though he retains certain features that are mutually exclusive to Storm and Earth Genasi - wispy and spiky bluish white hair with streaks of electrical sparks and a rocky build.

Origins: Zhanshu's past is, like many other founding citizens of Akanul, tumultuous - that of bondage and strife. Much like the very young nation, his concept of freedom and its place in the world is frontier territory. As soon as the gates of Airspur had opened the floodgates to the stream of influence and culture from a world outside their former gallows, they absorbed it like long deprived sponges. Zhanshu took upon himself the risk of throwing himself to wherever the winds of destiny may take him. It so happened that it took him to the ends of Toril and to the continent of Kara-Tur. Originally an Elemental Tempest, he often finds contradictions within himself - perhaps the immediate dilemma of those who recently tasted freedom - a lack of grand ideal to look forward to, as if he robbed himself of his raison d'etre. Confusion turned to Frustration. Frustration to Anger. Anger to Aimlessness. He began to doubt the virtue of freedom and thought of his former bondage as the wind that propels his mast. On the other hand, it pains him that these thoughts defeated the price they paid to attain their goal.

He traveled a wandering vagabond. Perhaps seeking answers to questions he dare not ask, or perhaps running away from guilt he cannot name. And just like that, he gave up. Lost in despair. With no motive power to take another step. He slumped to the ground. Any sense of time was a blur as the sun and moon drifted in circles. Somehow he felt that death was the only release from this wretched misery that he welcomed the idea and at the same time, could not take upon himself to face his departed comrades. He decided he no longer cared and died of himself that cold winter day.

He awakened expecting a shameful entourage of faces he recognized but was instead greeted with a roof above his head, a pillow beneath, and a warm cozy bed. He felt as though he did not deserve such treatment and thought that it was a terrible joke placed upon him by a sadistic unseen puppeteer who spitefully enjoys toying upon his existence. He stormed out of his room to find the madman who took him in. He was ready to savagely beat him, pouring all his anger and frustrations to his fist. Instead, he found a room of prayer and solace. A monk greeted him with peace, and his wrath was utterly defeated. He bitterly withdrew to his assigned room avoiding any contacts with the monks. Turns out, he was in a monastery. Regardless of bitter and jaded attitude, the monks treated him as if he was of their own with welcoming arms. Giving him daily porridge he never asked. Clothing him to replace the tattered garments.

It took a couple of weeks before he warmed up to his hosts. Much to his annoyance, boredom quickly settled in and curiosity became a terribly conspicuous itch. He reluctantly got out of his room to observe what the monks were doing on a daily basis. He thought, he might as well repay with gratitude what they did for him. He started doing errands and thought at least he was doing something. One day, a monk told him to accompany him to the summit of a nearby mountain. Thinking of himself with nothing to do, he accepted the request. On their way, the monk couldn't help but notice his gloomy expression but Zhanshu refused to respond. When they arrived, the monk sat at the peak and meditated. Hours had gone by and boredom struck again. The monk was still there - just meditating. He thought about doing the same. Maybe he'll fall asleep and it would kill time.

Little did Zhanshu know that this was a life changing event. He was caught in a spiritual drift within the monk's consciousness. Here, there was nothing he can hide and runaway from. Terror sent chills to his spine as the monk confronted him. That peaceful smile mocking his baggages. Yet again, he found himself drowning in despair and unable to act upon it. He later realized that the answer he was seeking was staring right in front of him. Acceptance. Reconciliation with himself. It was only then that he found peace - the very thing his existence had longed to discover but did not know existed until now.

From then on, he devoted himself to meditation and healing. A year had passed and he returned to his homeland to enrich his knowledge before settling on Akanapeaks, a mountain range overlooking Airspur. There, he found a peaceful waterfalls where he can meditate and reflect in seclusion. As time passed, he had reconciled with himself more and he changed. Not only mentally, but most notably, physically. He had achieved Elemental Harmony. News flew quickly to Airspur, reaching the ears of eager students - all of which were Elemental Tempests. He founded the school of the Shining Heaven and Earth path and taught numerous students throughout the years. His former students were now teachers themselves.

Even though he most known for his philosophical works, he is still a warrior at heart though now he confronts his foes in a different way. Instead of using brute force, he uses the power of the mind, body and spirit as one.
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Old Jan 30th, 2017, 09:46 PM
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Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it. You know, I just... Do things.

Last edited by hvg3akaek; Jan 11th, 2018 at 08:23 PM. Reason: Guarding Kaddim at the entrance to the demi-plane
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