[Characters] The Friends of Greycastle

[Sassafrass]

Post your characters here, once they've been approved by me!

 

TALYN, Female Dwarf Druid Talyn Wyvernmark Female Dwarf Druid   Name: Urzatalyn "Talyn" Wyvernmark Race: Gold Dwarf (Hill Dwarf) Class: Druid (Circle of the Moon) Homeland: Carradoon, near the Snowflake Mountains Deity: Our Lady of the Forest, Mielikki Faction: The Emerald Enclave Description: Talyn is tall and slender for a dwarf, sized much like a very stocky girl in her early teens, and is possessed of very feminine beauty, quite beyond the standards usually held by dwarves. She has silken, brown hair that she likes to wear in long, intricate braids, and tanned skin that reflects a life spent much under the sun. Her bright, golden eyes are larger than usual, and are true mirrors to her soul, difficult as they are in hiding her emotions. She is rather aloof, as can be expected of a lone wanderer, and speaks her mind plainly and openly, as can be expected of a dwarf, both of which makes for awkward social encounters. She has a husky voice, registering in the lower reaches of the alto range, and many a young man had fallen under its sway when she had need of companionship. Background: Urzatalunnakarhazis - so was her name in a previous life. She had been an ancient gold dragon, a servant of the Platinum Dragon Bahamut, a general in his army. She had fought alongside gods, she had fought gods, and all of these had somehow gotten into her heart and mind, feeding her vanity until it was all that she knew. She was beautiful beyond compare, blessed with power overwhelming - why could she not be a god, to walk alongside Bahamut amongst the pantheons? It was this vanity and sacrilege that gave Bahamut cause to cast her down. And so she was turned into a dwarf and robbed of her draconic powers and memory. All that was left in her was that drive in her heart that pushed her to perform goodwill. She does not know it now, but Bahamut has been patiently waiting for her to find once more the goodness in her being that had always been there but had been hidden away by her vanity. Once she is whole again, Bahamut will restore her to her true form, and take her once more within the ranks of his followers. And so it was without memory or identity that the gold dwarf wandered into Carradoon, near the feet of the Snowflake Mountains. She knew only that her name was Urzatalyn, although the townsfolk added the moniker Wyvernmark in part due to the wyvern-shaped birthmark on her right shoulder. She was generally kindhearted and helpful, but she was also aloof, awkward, unskilled in smithing, and not much of a drunkard, and so she did not fit in with the dwarves of Carradoon, who were mostly merchants and smiths. She was warmly received and loved by the goodly folk of the town, but she never had actually fit among them. Her first sense of belonging came with the Bouldershoulder brothers, Pikel and Ivan. In particular, she'd grown close to Pikel Bouldershoulder, who showed her the ways and forces of nature, how to understand and manipulate those forces, and how to respect them. In his unique and certainly odd way, Pikel had shown her the path of Mielikki, whose tenets of good, freedom, and life spoke to her and touched her to the core. And so she had endeavored to join that path, the path of the Druid of Mielikki. For many years, Talyn traveled far and wide, spreading goodwill and learning more about the world. Sometimes, the Bouldershoulders would be with her, but she had often traveled alone, making friends and enemies along the way. She'd made friends of Possible tie-in with the Elf WizardElves in their forest home, of Possible tie-in with the Goliath WarlockGoliaths in their mountain peaks, of Gnomes in their underground laboratories, and many others. But she would always return to Carradoon, near the feet of the Snowflake Mountains - for some strange reason, she felt bound to return there every year, to sit and stare at the mountains and the skies beyond as she reflected on her life and her accomplishments. Lately, however, there had been dark news and rumors coming from beyond the Snowflake Mountains. In her dreams, a silhouetted dragon spoke to her, imploring her to prepare for great danger, to protect the world from the return of the Queen, and that she would best be served by acquiring the help of a certain person whose face and location had been shown to her. In other dreams, she was riding a unicorn, a known symbol of Mielikki, into battle alongside other warriors with green cloaks and bearing the symbol of the stag. They were fighting against five dragons - or at least, she thought there were five as the fog had always been thick in those dreams. She had no real understanding of who this Queen was, and who the five dragons were, but she understood enough that she had been elected to take this path. She had no intention of turning away. Talyn had then resolved to see this through. In seeking the person that the silhouetted dragon revealed to her in her dreams, Talyn discovered him to be Thar Greenbough, a ranger and an agent of the Emerald Enclave. After serving with him on several missions, he had deemed her fit to join the Enclave, and sponsored her for membership. Talyn was brought before Shadowmoon, Hierophant of the Enclave, for her trials. She had passed the trials, and with her faith in Mielikki also serving to her advantage, Talyn was finally inducted into the Emerald Enclave as a Springwarden, the starting rank. Motivations: She is motivated by an inexplicable drive to extend goodwill toward others, just as Bahamut had imprinted upon her. Despite being a practical woman who regards function over form, she has an indescribable desire for beautiful, expensive things, probably a residue of her natural desires as a gold dragon. Contacts: She is very close to Pikel Bouldershoulder, who had mentored her and inducted her into the ways of the Druid. She is also friends with Ivan Bouldershoulder, and Thar Greenbough, who had sponsored her for membership into the Emerald Enclave.

 

https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=61197

Name: Sabezdyn (pronounced Sah-Bez-Din) A'Daragon
Race: Half Elf (Drow)
Class: Fighter
Appearance: She looks for the most part like any half breed with a touch of elf. But her dark grey skin calls out her true heritage as part drow. Her hair is streaked with the white strands and darker ones. Her eyes more the shape and set of her human parent with an icy blue hue. They hold both sadness and defiance in them.

She is lithe and quick with graceful movements. She is pretty (for having drow blood in her), but her warning glance is all the deterrent needed to show what she thinks of anyone looking at her that way too long.

There is a no nonsense look to her, a hint of flint in her manner, she carries herself as if she knows how to handle herself and is not afraid to prove it.

Personality: She comes across at first as cold, withdrawn and defensive. She expects to be treated with contempt and even hostility and projects an attitude to suit. She is suspicious of kindness to begin with and never takes a person at their word, only their deeds.

Proven worth and respect once earned from her is given in return with fierce honour, loyalty and friendship. If betrayed however she is slow to forgive, if she ever does. Only acts of true redemption will move her then.

She is not a cruel person for all her origins, she is in fact quiet caring deep down, she just has walls and layers to protect herself from her years as a first daughter and then service before exile.

Learned behaviours from her time in with the drow sometimes creep through, though she tries not to let them.

She is still trying to find her place in the world. She is lost and looking for a home, to belong some where. It is a desperation in her soul that keens out but that she hides for fear it will be used against her. She can not give in to the hope of finding such for if she did and she lost it, it would destroy her.

She carries both guilt and the weight of the horrors she witnessed growing up with her. Part of her craves redemption, longs for acceptance and to feel she has a purpose.

Background: Born into captivity in the underground world of the Underdark to a human slave and one of the son's of a noble house, she was considered an abomination and would likely have been killed or spent her life in abject misery as a slave of lower standing than her mother.

But she was born the same night the first daughter of the house was, and in a twist of fate the sickly full drow died in moments. Perhaps it was the madness of grief, or to spite the mother of the child who lived. But the Mistress took on the half breed as a surrogate child and raised her as her own. She had all the privileged of a first daughter at first, education, tutelage in weapons to begin with.

Till her cousin was born, full blood first daughter trumps half blood by blow. Now she was pressed into service as a bodyguard for the usurper. At first she resented the child, but then grew to accept her new role, it came with less privilege, but more lessons in fighting which she enjoyed. She still held some position within the house and was given a long leash as it were.

But she could not remain blind to the atrocities of the house and their treatment of the slaves. And eventually she rebelled, disobeyed an order that lead to the whole household being slaughtered save her. She was spared for a simple act of mercy. From the bloodstained house she fled, eventually making it to the surface.

In the years since she has been making a living a sword for hire and merc.

IC RP:

From the shadows of the room she walked forth, her gaze of icy blue eyes not wavering from the personage sat waiting at the desk. You are the one asking about me? she demands in a forthright and brisk fashion. I'm told you have some questions and need some information from me? she continues her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she watches him for his response. Its not just anyone she would speak such matters too and even knowing she must she is still wary.

My name is Sabezdyn A'Daragon, but you can call me Sabe if its easier for you. I'm a sword for hire by trade, and yes I'm part Drow, if that's a problem, say now cause I have other places I can be you know. she says defensively, but there is something in her tone beyond the challenge that speaks to her not actually needing to be else where.

Fine, well, I am damn good with my blades, handy in a fight, I'll fight for money sure, but I'm picky what jobs I'll take. Just because I got Drow blood does not mean I'll take just any job. I'm no follower of the Spider one, I follow Eilistraee ok? So, No, I wont maim, torture or assassinate for anyone, if I kill its for defence or because there is a need, like taking out the darkness and evil of this world.

No, I'm not noble or a goody goody two shoes, but there are some things in this world that should not be. I know, I grew up amongst them, and trust me if you come up against them you'll be glad of me on your side. she mutters the last and is lost in thought or memories best forgot. Her voice is quieter, almost haunted when she speaks next.

I suppose you want to know how I came to be here from that world. I was raised to be one of them, till they needed me no more and tossed me aside to be the protector of my replacement. Still it was a better lot than my mother and the other slaves so I did my job. Its a hard place to stomach, and there comes a point where you have seen enough, you know what I mean? Down there its all politics and violence. Scheming and spiders....and I hate spiders. she shudders to herself, then takes a deep breath to prepare her for the next part.

So one night an assassin came. Its the only time I have ever broken an oath, that night, and perhaps not my finest hour depending which side of the fence you are on. I watched him creep along, as I have done others in the past. My swords were at his back before he knew I was there. Mistress was woken with the cries of my cousin when she saw I had caught the lad. He was young, no more than a year or two older then I was. He was not the first I had caught, but he was the last. Mistress told me to take him away and see to it his death was slow. Personally.

Give him his due, he did not beg for his life or weep, he took his fate square on. And perhaps it was that bravery that fuelled mine. But so help me, I could not do it. I had seen enough torture and had not the heart to dole it out...instead I let him go. she took a deep sigh, I think we were equally as shocked as each other, he turned to me quizzically thinking it was a trick I guess, but a waved him off and told him to go. He did. She shook her head sadly, a look of guilt and self reproach crept onto her face.

Later that week he came back. Slaughtered the whole family and slaves...everyone...except me. I woke groggy from the drow poison in the dart he had used on me. Blood was everywhere, blood spilt because I had failed my duty. Because of my choices. He was there when I woke, he had been waiting for me to wake. Waiting a while for the blood and bodies were all cold as stone.

"For my life, I give you yours" he had said and walked away. I can't say I too sorry for the loss of lives with regards to my 'family', even thought they were my blood. But the innocents, the salves...my birth mother...all dead. Those lives...those are on my conscience.

As for me, I fled, I knew if I stayed what fate I would face. Took me months to find a way out of hell, but I did. I felt the dark maiden guide me, she lead me to Miz'ri a priestess of hers who helped me to be free both of the Spider Queen and the Underdark. She taught me the ways of the Dark Maiden, that I could walk in the light, not just of day, but of life. She looked at him sharply.

Judge me if you will, but I tell you this; till you have lived such a life you can never know what choices you will make or how they will come back to haunt you. In that day I bought my freedom in blood. I can not undo the past different choices if I did. But I am aware that what I do with my freedom, so dearly bought, will be what balances the scales at the end of my days. I only hope I can in time do enough to out weigh the blood on my hands. She looks off into the distance, once more lost in a thought. After a moment she shakes herself out of her daze. Perhaps I have said too much. But it seems you draw out words I would have rather been left unspoken. I trust you will not spread them about, just because I said I would not kill for money don't mean I would hurt you if this become widely known. she warns, though the tone is somewhere between threat and weariness. Perhaps she was even joking. Well maybe not joking but not entirely serious in her threat.

Now what else did you wish to know...oh yes, why I am in Greenest. I wander. A lot. You know no home...people don't like drow settling in their back yard so I move. Harder to get hurt that way, yep...thats me...just keep wandering. Taking jobs here and there. Well been some chatter that there is trouble out this way. And where there is trouble, well there's either people willing to pay for help or opportunities to earn by loot. That and if there is trouble, well by helping get rid of it maybe I can earn a little more of that redemption folks talk about.

 

 

Application Name: Barnabas B. Barrelbringer Race: Lightfoot Halfling Class: Rogue; may multiclass a level of Cleric later, but Rogue for the foreseeable future Homeland: Nashkel, Amn Deity: Brandobaris, to the extent one has Brandobaris as a diety Description: Barnabas B. Barrelbringer ... Motivations: --- Short Term: Put distance between his father and himself; perhaps prove to his father that he's been swindled for years (essentially, "I told you so!"). --- Long Term: Find his own way; maybe one day, settle down with a brewery of his own; but not before seeing some (or a lot) of the world. Contacts: See General History. General History: Originally of and from Nashkel, Barnabas is the youngest child of the three sons of Barney Barrelbringer, the renown brewmaster of the Bursting Barrel, a Nashkel brewery owned and operated by the Barrelbringers for generations. The Burst Barrel boasts some of the best beers north of the Cloud Peaks and has contracts around the region, including as far north as Baldur's Gate, as far south as Athkatla, and as far east as Westgate. Barney and sons, including Barnabas, are members of the Brewers of the Sword Coast guild, Nashkel Chapter. While his older brother, Bradley (grandfather's name on the father's side), and his younger brother, Blimponton (great uncle's name on the mother's side) both took to brewing immediately, young Barnabas (unique name) showed little interest in brewing. Instead, Barnabas took to the business aspects of the enterprise. Over time, it became clear to anyone outside the family that Barnabas brought showed potential in characteristics not common in the Barrelbringer lineage: a head for numbers, some decent social skills, and head for business. Unfortunately, Barney couldn't look beyond Barnabas' disinterest in brewing. To Barney, how could someone be good at the business of brewing if he had little interest in the art and science of brewing? The old man simply couldn't get past that logic. And so he never trusted Barnabas with any sort of management responsibility -- the one area he both might have excelled in and might have contributed well to the family business. Barnabas, of course, grated against his father's distrust -- especially as he witnessed Barney stumble from one bad deal to the next. Last summer, Possible NPCAjantis Avastarr from Athkatla bought 20 barrels of the Summernight blend for three gold a barrel: a steal after Barnabas heard Ajantis bragging at his cups in the Northern Lights Inn about selling each barrel in Athkatla for fifteen gold a barrel. The old Possible NPCSir Marric Crestfall, a former Flaming Fist turned trade merchant, convinced Barney to brew his ten barrels of Savage Drink, a faddish ale requiring a particular hops only available from Chult, for ten gold a barrel. That could have been a good deal . . . except hops from Chult aren't exactly common. Barney spent almost forty gold just acquiring the hops, leaving little for profit. During these trying times, Barnabas tended to associate with anyone his father frowned upon. One such person was NPC ContactWicket Quickfoot, a halfling about Barney's age but has easily live three times the life Barney has. As Quickfoot put it "So far, I'm half a traveler, half a fighter, half a lover, and only half way there!" The two would take long walks around the surrounding area, Quickfoot telling fantastical tales of prior adventures and Barnabas hanging on every word. It was Quickfoot that introduced Barnabas, more fully, to Brandobaris, the halfling god of rogues and adventure. Barnabas appreciated Brandobaris' focus on living life full of adventure rather than strictly per worhsip, ritual, and dogmatic belief. It was Quickfoot that gave Barnabas his set of Possible plot enabler: the dice show X one dayBrandobaris' Bones, a set of dice with various objects on each face, including a halfling's foot, Brandobaris' symbol. In theory, one can cast the dice and, by reading the symbols correctly, better understand Brandobaris' thoughts on what the person ought to do next. But like any minor devinitation, its mostly an art rather than a science -- especially when concerning a god who values his and his followers' independence too much to meddle too deeply in mortal affairs. Besides Brandobaris, Quickfoot also introduced Barnabas to a NPC ContactHarkva 'Hatchet', a half-orc adventuring companion of Quickfoot years ago. Named for her hatchet fetish, Harkva carries no less than ten hatchets upon her person at all times and can throw, slash, toss, or chop with them better than most anybody. Quick to laugh, quick to anger, and quick to anything, Harkva adventures still, occasionally passing through Nashkel when leaving or entering Amn. Last year Harkva came through Nashkel on her way to Neverwinter -- something about "Good gold for good goblin gashers." In any case, Barnabas hasn't seen her since. Recent History: Barnabas is on the cavern passing through Greenest because he ran away from him. He ran away from home after his father all but ejected Barnabas from the family dwelling when Barnabas showed him copies of contracts acquired from Barney's latest customer, Yet another NPC!Theorde Goldshield, a dwarven merchant demonstrating that Goldshield was selling Barney's Red Wheat Whisper honeyed mead in Waterdeep for a staggering twenty-gold a barrel. This, in of itself, isn't bad. But what is bad is how Goldshield told Barney that Red Wheat Whisper was hardly sellling for ten gold in Waterdeep. And, with that, Barney dropped his price even more until, at four gold a barrel, Barney and Goldshield struck a deal. Barnabus found the contracts after breaking into Goldshield's room and rummaging through this bag. But when Barnabas presented the contracts proving that Barney was being hosed yet again, Barney exploded, threatening to drag Barnabas to the constabulary himself. They argued long and loudly until Barney fiercely ordered Barnabas out of Barney's hillside home. And that is how Barnabas is presently on the caravan.

 

Barnabas B. Barrelbringer Male Lightfoot Halfling Rogue   Sheet & Application Level 2 Rogue small lightfoot halfling, neutral good Armor Class 14 Hit Points 17/17 Speed 25 Hit Dice 2d8 Initiative +3 Condition Normal Inspiration Yes Proficiency Bonus +2 Str 10 (+0) | Dex 17 (+3) | Con 14 (+2) | Int 13 (+1) | Wis 10 (0) | Cha 11 (0) Saving Throws Dex +5, Int +3 Skill Proficiencies Acrobatics +5, Insight +2, Perception +2, Persuasion +2, Slight of Hand +5, Stealth +7 Passive Perception 12 Lucky Reroll once natural ones on attack rolls, saving throws, or ability checks Brave Advantage on savings throws versus fear Nimble Can move through squares of creatures medium sized or larger Naturally Stealthy May attempt Hide when obscured by a medium sized creature or larger Sneak Damage 1d6 Cunning Action May use the Bonus action to Disengage, Dash, or Hide Actions Initiative Rolls: [dice]1d20+3[dice]xxx. Move: Standard: Bonus: xxx

[Neqq]

Clawmarked, now played by Captain Radio Gukan Clawmarked Titaniadaoro fomerly known as Gukan Godsmasher Vekalimaraooka   Interview With A Goliath A timber rattling series of knocks threatened to remove the door form its hinges. When the Master beckoned, Gukan Clawmarked Titaniadaoro entered the room. The big goliath stooped low to avoid the doorframe but was unsuccessful. His bald head crashed into the lentil, ducking lower he entered the room rubbing his bald grey head. In a powerful deep voice he said, “Me noggin got a flogging but me is alright.” Looking down at the seated Master, the Goliath said, "Me Gukan Clawmarked Titaniadaoro. Once me warrior now me warlock. You call me Clawmarked." The Master said, "Please take a seat Clawmarked." Clawmarked went to sit opposite the Master, the stout stool immediately snapped under the prodigious weight of the big goliath, who crashed to floor. The Master looked on stunned as Clawmarked got to his feet and said, “Don’t worry me not hurt, happens all the time.” The Master said, “Tell me about yourself, Clawmarked.” “Yous can see me is big. Big even for Goliath. Have big muscles. C’mon touch, you feel.” Clawmarked struck a pose showing off his behemoth biceps. The Master felt obliged to stand and touch the bulging muscles, they looked and felt like small boulders. The Goliath smiled and continued, “Me skin is grey but me not sick. Me have no hair on me noggin like all Goliath men. Me eyes are green like a scummy pond and me face is pretty cause me still young. Me dress in fur top and bottoms me Ma make me.” The Master smiled, there was something enchanting about this big man but he need to know more about him. “What kind of person are you? Do you get along well with other people? What are your strengths and your weaknesses?” “Me is happy-go-lucky, me is friend to everyone. You not my friend then you in big trouble. Me not weak, you felt me muscles.” “I mean what aren’t you good at?” “Me sorry, me not real smart but me get by.” “How did you come to be here?” “Me walk long way.” “Where did you walk from? Did anything happen on the way?” “Is long story. Me started in mountains. Me tribe in mountains call me Gukan Godsmasher Vekalimaraooka. Me practice for Goat-Ball and me throw real hard. Kavaki, Ram-Lord good God but statue can’t dodge, me knock its head off. Tribe real mad, but me too nice to exile. Me told to go x-ploor lowlands and come back when me is older with not so much e-ner-gee,” Clawmarked said with an increasing hangdog expression. “Go on Clawmarked, finish your story,” the Master said, surprising himself with his unusually high level of empathy. The goliath swallowed his emotion and continued, “Me wander down the mountains and in forest me run into bear. Me put up good fight but bear be good fighter. Me lost me sword and bear still had claws. You see scars here on me chest, bear made ‘em. Me bleeding real bad then Twinkly Lady come and save me.” “Tell me about the Twinkly Lady,” the Master urged. “She heal me with her magics, she tell me Gukan Godsmasher Vekalimaraooka dead and now me Gukan Clawmarked Titaniadaoro. Twinkly lady told me to fight Dragon Cult, they real bad. She give me magics and tell me she give me new sword when I kill some of the Cult. When I get new sword, she will give me new name. Me will kill lots of Cult, me want good name,” Clawmakred concluded with his barrel-like chest puffed out. The Master stood and offered his hand and said, “Well you want to kill lots of Cults, you’ve come to the right place.” Summary Name: Gukan Clawmarked Titaniadaoro Race: Goliath Class: Warlock - Archfey Patron Appearance: 8 foot tall, 340 pounds of pure muscles. Grey skin, bright green eyes, bald head and dressed in furs and hides. Personality: Naive with low intelligence but very likable. Slow to anger but had to stop once on the boil. Background: Sent to the lowlands by his tribe to avoid anymore accidents. Clawmarked's life was saved after a bear attack by Titania, Queen of the Seelie Court. He pledged his service to her and was sent to help destroy the Dragon Cult. Character Sheet

[G in Japan]

Name: Evendur Greycastle
Race: Human
Class: Fighter (two-weapon, Battle Master)
Background: City Watch

 

Backstory:

It wasn’t always like this. I wasn’t always this man. Once, I was happy. I had a wife. I had a beautiful daughter and a son. Both of them were everything a father could wish for. Sure things weren’t perfect. The gods know I wasn’t. I tried to live a normal life, a good life, but sometimes that just wasn’t enough in a small town on the High Road, far from Arabel and even Elversult. The Lightning Steppes can be a taxing place, and sometimes, just to survive, you have to do things you’re not proud of. Sure I had a real job. Member of the city watch. It was an honest living, if you could call it that. Barely scraping by and living tenday to tenday. It was never something I wanted to do forever, but it gave me opportunities...

A little smuggling. That’s all it was. Get the goods through town without making the other guards too suspicious. Know how to deal with those who were. No one ever got hurt when I was in charge of a shipment and I didn’t ask questions. That’s why I was good at what I did.

A subtle contact… a whispered word… a quick trip through town… a few extra gold dropped into my pocket. That was the key. Only ever a few extra gold. Like a tip, really. Nothing wrong with getting a tip for your hard work, right?

Some people? They would get greedy, but not me. Just a few coins to put away for when I was ready to retire. No one ever had to be the wiser. That’s why they came to me. They knew I wouldn’t let them down, they knew I wouldn’t get fancy, and they knew I wouldn’t take on so much work as to draw suspicion. I was always careful.

Well… almost always…

It was a stupid move. I should’ve known better. I always knew the people I worked for weren’t exactly model citizens, but when I heard a rustling in their cart… I got stupid. I asked a question.

"Everything alright?"

Simple enough, right? I had worked with them before and didn’t think it would be an issue…

They never told me. Just smiled that smile and pulled back the tarp covering their wagon.

People.

That’s what they were hauling. One little girl looked at me, just for a second, and all I could see was my daughter. I couldn’t let them go. I called for others. Members of the watch swarmed in and dragged the men away. They cursed my name and fingered me as their accomplice. I was arrested and held. Got to see those men die first, though. They were sent swinging, and all the while they were ranting and raving about the glory of the dragons and how we would all burn. Watched it all from my cell.

That’s where I was when the dragon came. We never stood a chance. We were no match for its power. From my cell I got to watch my world burn down around me before the building came down. I was trapped for days. I’m not sure exactly how long. Eventually I managed to work my way free. The town was a smoldering ruin. I ran to my house, searching frantically for my wife and children.

I found them... charred and black.

I buried those who weren’t already turned to ash before searching the rest of the town. I managed to scavenge some armor and weapons, as well as enough supplies to get me to Iriaebor. I thought from there I would continue east. I had one big, winged reason to go that way.

There be the way the dragon flew.

 

Personality:

Evendur would not consider himself a perfect person. Far from it. He has done things in his past of which he is not proud, and this is largely what drives him today. He seeks redemption. He knows there is a spark of good in everyone (Ideal) although he is not afraid to snuff out the spark of life, should he discover a connection to those responsible for the death of his family. He’ll never forget the crushing defeat his homeland suffered or the dragon who dealt it (Bond). That dragon destroyed everything Evendur held dear. It killed his family and destroyed his home. Now, with nearly nothing and a horrid scar on his back of the near fatal wounds sustained in the attack, he seeks revenge (Bond). He hates the dragon, but truth be told, he is unsure what he will do if he encounters it again, as that monstrous enemy still leaves him quivering with fear (Flaw).

The deaths of Evendur’s family and friends have made it difficult for him to get close to anyone else. He’s lost too many friends and is very slow to make new ones (Trait). Still, he is fiercely loyal to those who do become his friends, even if he does not think they will be friends for long. He is a man with nothing to lose, and as such, he doesn’t pay attention to the risks in a situation (Trait). He is much more likely to run headlong into a situation than he was before. Perhaps, he feels, if he is killed while trying to avenge his family and friends he will be allowed to see them in the great beyond.

 

The pleasant smell of the Greenfields is off this day. Even though he is not from here, it is easy for Evendur to notice the difference. The scent of the grasslands has been filling his nostrils for days. In many ways, the scent reminds him of his home and it had brought a smile to his face.

A few days ago, it was a different smell. The scent of blood had filled his nose not long before. Luckily, this time it was not his, but it easily could have been.

It was just happenstance that he came upon the two men. That they wore the same symbol as those men with their wagon of slaves was pure luck. Weary as he was, the sight of them filled Evendur with strength. The fact that he was outnumbered mattered very little. He had the element of surprise when he stumbled into the camp.

"Orcs," he had said as he went hunched toward their fire. When they rose, rushed forward, the hatchet he had hidden with his cloak. They were unarmed. That just made it easier.

The first went down with the hatchet buried in his head. The second… Evendur suspects that one wishes it had been swift and easy with him, too. Evendur and that one got very well acquainted over the long night that followed.

"Greenest."

That’s what the man had said after some… convincing. But the greenest what? Evendur hadn’t asked about anything green. He had hardly asked about anything, other than the dragon. It took a bit more talking for Evendur to find out what Greenest is, and exactly where to find it. It took longer to get the ringing of the screams from his ears and the smell of the blood from his nostrils.

Now he stands with a different smell wafting on the wind. A smell that is different, but all too familiar. The smell of burning drifts toward Evendur atop the hill. In the same way as his home did, Greenest is burning.

It is the figure that circles above the town that draws his attention more than the flames, though. This must be the target of his hunt. Now that he sees it again, Evendur’s feet feel like lead. He was sure he would know what to do when he saw the dragon again but now he is hesitating. Just as he is beginning to wonder if he will be able to move toward the town, a flash of the charred corpses of his family flashes before his eyes and Evendur’s feet begin to move, steadily, albeit a bit slowly, toward the burning town.

 

Evendur Greycastle
Level 1 Fighter
medium human, chaotic good
Armor Class 16 (18 with shield)
Hit Points 12/12
Speed 30

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Hit Dice 1d10
Initiative +3
Condition Normal
Inspiration 0
Proficiency Bonus +2

---

Str 13 (+1) | Dex 16 (+3) | Con 14 (+2) | Int 10 (0) | Wis 12 (+1) | Cha 10 (0)

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Saving Throws Str +3, Con +4
Skill Proficiencies Athletics +3, Insight +3, Investigation +2, Perception +3, Survival +3
Damage Resistances
Senses passive Perception 13

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Tavern Brawler (Feat).
• Increase your Strength or Constitution score by 1, to a maximum of 20.
• You are proficient with improvised weapons.
• Your unarmed strike uses a d4 for damage.
• When you hit a creature with an unarmed strike or an improvised weapon on your turn, you can use a bonus action to attempt to grapple the target.

---

Actions
Second Wind. Evendur has a limited well of stamina that he can draw on to protect himself from harm. On his turn, he can use a bonus action to regain hit points equal to 1d10 + his fighter level. Once he uses this feature, he must finish a short or long rest before he can use it again.

[Huhart]

Visverax
Male High Elf Wizard
Background: Sage, Researcher

 

Personality Trait:
I … speak ... slowly ... when talking...to idiots, ... which ... almost ... everyone ... is ... compared ...to me.
Ideal:
The path to power and self-improvement is through knowledge.
Flaw:
Most people scream and run when they see a demon. I stop and take notes on its anatomy.
Bond:
Every five nights, I have a strange sequence of apocalyptic dreams. The world is destroyed by cold, choking fumes, lightning storms, waves of acid, and horrible fire. Each time, the dream ends with ten evil eyes glaring at me from the darkness. I feel a strange compulsion to travel to Greenest. Perhaps the answer to the riddle of your dreams awaits me there.
Optional feature: Dragon scholar:
I have studied dragons and their lore for many years. I can automatically identify locations built or used by dragons and can identify dragon eggs and scales by sight. If I fail an intelligence check to recall lore relating to dragons, I know someone or some book I can consult for the answer (unless DM rules that the lore is unknown).

Appearance & Personality:

 

Some have called me pompous and long-winded. Others say I am an arrogant bastard. Do not listen to the idle gossip of these lesser beings. I am merely an honest person with simple tastes. True, my attire may seem elegant compared to the lowly peasants who populate this town. But, I am not some dirt digging miscreant who wears soiled clothes and broken boots. If I sneer, it is because I find your humor trite and mediocre. My hair was once a pale blonde, but now it had gone completely white. It has been suggested that I dye it some outlandish color since I am still a young man, but such vanity is beneath me. My body may be gaunt and my skin pallid, but what is to be expected of one who spends his time in dusty libraries pouring over forgotten tomes of knowledge. I hold the eldritch power of magic in my hands and that is all the strength I need.

Backstory:

 

My foray into magic began almost by accident and mostly due to the mischief of my cousin, Gustareuax. While I was the scholarly type, good old Gus was anything but. He was constantly getting into things and places where he should not be. He had an inclination toward larceny. Gus came to me one day with a book he had found, pilfered from some book seller at the agora, no doubt. The ancient tome was locked with a magical seal beyond my cousin’s meager abilities to open. So he had come to me to do his dirty work.

At the time, my ability to work magic was mediocre. I knew only a few cantrips which I could perform with mixed success. But, it seemed as if the book wanted me to open it, for the seal unlocked on my first attempt. Gustareuax and I stood side by side as we cautiously open the book. On its own volition, the book leaped open and violent beams of arcane energy came spewing out. I was infused with power. My brain soaked up the mystic formulae and archaic lore like a sponge until I was filled with arcane potency. Poor Gus was not so lucky. He could not contain the vast energies that the book provided. His body expanded and he began to glow until he popped like a soap bubble. There was nothing left of his body. His clothes fell heavily to the floor. His boots emitted wafts of smoke which smelled of sulfur.

I stood there for a long time, stunned at what just occurred. A mix of emotions ran through my mind. On one hand, I was elated at the enormous power I had just attained. On the other, I was saddened by the loss of my kin. How would I explain this to my family, my aunt and uncle in particular? It saddens me to report that I used poor judgement at the time. I ran. I gathered my meager belongings and sneaked out before either Gus or I was missed.

As I was packing, I noticed something amongst by cousin’s leavings. It was an amulet, glowing softly with eldritch energy. Later, I would discover that the amulet was connected to the book. The bauble was probably the reason that Gus had stolen the thing in the first place. It basically amplified the power of the book. Gus had been wearing it, which is why he was destroyed, whereas I was not. I can tell you that it took a long time for me to gain the nerve to put the thing on. It was then that I discovered something even more shocking. The amulet had actually sucked up Gustareuax’s soul.

I have travelled a great deal since that day. Much of my time had been spent researching magic and experimenting with my powers. I have met many of my fellow wizards. Some are eager to share their knowledge, but many are secretive. One peculiar thing I have discovered is a strange connection between magic and dragons. Obviously, dragons are magical creatures, but there seems to be more to it than that, though I have not discovered the details. I have taken a passive interest in the Cult of the Dragon, though I would never consider joining those radical miscreants. Through research and due diligence, I will discover the secrets of the dragons and harness their magical energies to increase my own powers!

RP sample:

 

Greenest… The city had plagued his dreams, more like nightmares, for the past few weeks, filling his head with visions of death and destruction. Visverax had to know what these dreams meant. And so, here he was, trudging alone on the lonely path towards the town. The wizard’s mind was barely concentrating on where he was going. His thoughts were elsewhere; on magical matters, like coming up with a spell to conjure a horse, so he didn’t have to walk. Distracted as he was, he did not see the shadow slip out of the trees until the figure was right in front of him.

The person looked to be a mix of orc and human. He brandished a nasty looking blade. His voice, when he spoke, had a guttural accent of the barbarian tribes. “Hand over your purse and I might let you live…”

Visverax glared back at the half-orc with rage. He was angrier that the bandit had interrupted his thoughts than at being robbed. “You dare to threaten me, you insignificant piece of ort. You don’t know who you are dealing with. I am Visverax! I am Magi … inviolate! You would do well to flee before I unleash my magic and turn you into …. Aaahhhhhh!”

The thief didn’t wait to hear the rest of the wizard’s tirade. He slashed at the mage’s midsection, leaving a nasty painful gash.

Vis stopped talking then and went into action. He cast a spell and with a thunderous crash, the bandit went flying as a wave of sound and energy assaulted him. His attacker grunted in pain, then his eyes widened in fear. The orc-man turned tail and quickly ran away into the forest.

Holding his wound, Visverax slumped against a tree trunk for support. Examining his injury, he discovered it was bloody, but superficial. He would live. “If you would have listened to me, we could have avoided this unpleasantness…” he said weakly, though the thief was long gone.

A shadow passed by overhead and a strong wind followed in its wake. Vis looked up and was astonished. It was a dragon! The creature dropped down into the trees ahead of him. A loud scream was heard and a moment later the dragon was back in the air, holding the panicked half-orc thief in its talon. As it glided off, the dragon casually bit the fellow in half.

The wizard considered himself lucky that the dragon hadn’t spotted him. “It probably realized I was a superior foe and wisely decided not to accost me for fear of its life,” he told himself. Curiosity outweighed fear and the wizard stepped out from under the tree and began following the dragon. Fortunately, the dragon was going in the same direction that he was. Then it dawned on him. The dragon was heading for Greenest! Vis picked up his pace, though he knew it was futile. There was no way he could reach the town before the dragon. There was nothing he could do to warn the townfolk. It was some time later that he arrived at the rise overlooking the city… a scenic view of the devastation the dragon had wrought.

 

Name: Visverax | AC: 13 | HP: 7/7
Level: 1, Class: Wizard Race: High Elf
Condition: Normal

Spell DC: 13 Spell Attack Bonus: +5
Wizard Spells:
Rituals: Detect magic, Unseen Servant
Cantrips: Fire Bolt, Mage Hand, Minor Illusion, Prestidigitation
Level 1: Fog Cloud, Grease, Mage Armor, Thunderwave
Spell Slots: O O

Weapon: Quarterstaff, dmg: 1d6 (1d8), atk +2

Speed: 30 | Inspiration: 0 | Prof Bonus: +2
HD: 1 | Initiative: +3 | Senses: Passive Perception 13, Darkvision (60 ft)
Skill Proficiencies: Arcana, History, Insight, Investigation, Perception
Abilities: Str 10, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 12, Cha 9
Resistances/Immunities: Sleep Immunity
Racial abilities: Fey Ancestry: Advantage on Charm saving throws.

[MontageManiac]

Rhokax Soulreader Rhokax Soulreader, Dragonborn War Cleric Name: Rhokax (Kimbatuul) Soulreader Race: Dragonborn, Silver Class: War Cleric Homeland: Djerad Thymar, Tymanther Deity: Bahamut Description: Rhokax Kimbatuul, an exiled believer. Silver-blue scales, with his tendrils decorated with several strips of woven cloth wrapped around each to emulate the wild-nature of one of his comrades in arms. He learned the technique from a half-orc, and appreciated how it made him appear more intimidating in combat. His armour is a mixture of Platinum Cadre colours, with the Scythe flavouring of local embellishments, such as the scabbard, the shield, belt, and "hair" piece. Motivations: --- Short Term: To avenge those who slayed his comrades during his capture. --- Long Term: Find effective ways of combating the Cult of the Dragon, and to eventually find evidence that supports the Platinum Cadre’s beliefs to his people, and perhaps one day being welcomed back into his clan. Contacts: 1) Beiran Springreaper, Male Half-Elf Commander of the Scythes of Beiran, the mercenary company Rhokax joined. 2) Captain Palma Goldtree, Female Human Captain of Beregost’s Flaming Fists company, who Rhokax travelled to meet and learn about their fights with the Cult of the Dragon. This was where his company lent aid but were wiped out as far as Rhokax knows. General History: Born in 1463 to a Kimbatuul clutch within the capital of Tymanther, Djerad Thymar, the dragonborn who would become Rhokax screeched as he burst from his egg, exhibiting the silver-blue scales prized by the clan which indicated an individual who would rise as an elite member of their clan. Growing quickly as dragonborn do, the quiet infant was given the childname, Soulreader, for his piercing golden eyes could see the true intentions of his peers and elders even from a young age. Trained in the ways of the warrior, the child took up the name Rhokax when he came of age, and by his 16th year was a fierce warrior and leader within Clan Kimbatuul’s military. His skill with a battleaxe, and his ability to read the flow of battle saw him rise as a squad commander during the war with the Ash Giants in 1476. Taking part in the battles where the Platinum Cadre leant their aid, he watched as their warriors, working in the service of this dragon-god Bahamut, pushed back against the forces of the evil Green-Dragon Skuthosin. Without their aid the battle would have surely been lost. Rhokax couldn’t help but feel drawn to the imagery and power of Bahamut. A dragon, something to be hated by his people, was offering protection and a path to honour his clan and people that he thought only possible through disciplined combat. Deciding on his course, he approached Clan Kimbatuul’s elders to voice his intention of joining the Platinum Cadre. After witnessing first hand the evil that can exist in dragons, he was eager to find the good dragons that may aid in the defence of their nation. The elders, however, held to their prejudiced beliefs, and warned Rhokax of his potential choice; if he pursued this path they would have no choice but to exile him from Clan Kimbatuul. Rhokax argued that to no longer commit himself to what he felt was a just cause for the sake of his clan’s safety and longevity, would make him unworthy for any other task within the clan. With a great deal of respect for the 16 year old dragonborn’s commitment, but a deep mourning for what they were compelled to do, the elders exiled Kimbatuul Rhokax from Clan Kimbatuul, and their capital city of Djerad Thymar. Rhokax Soulreader, pained to go by his Clan’s name now that he lived in exile, left to find his purpose with the Platinum Cadre. With the Platinum Cadre, he continued his martial prowess, rising in the ranks of that organization as fast, if not quicker, than he did within his former clan. Eventually he presented himself to Protector Medrash, the leader of the Platinum Cadre, and requested that he leave on special assignment to learn and incorporate new strategies and tactics in fighting the Cult of the Dragon, a rising force that likely sought to influence or destroy Tymanther at some point. Medrash couldn’t provide any men or resources for the mission, but asked Rhokax to keep the Cadre informed of his progress wherever it may lead him. Rhokax decided to leave and pursue any leads in the kingdom of Cormyr first, since their cultural reverence of dragons may prove to be a positive jumping-off point for the dragonborn. Certainly leaving the prejudiced sections of the city would prove to be refreshing in regards to dragons. Taking a ship from Tymanther, he sailed to Cormyr where he found himself a little out of his element. While he was polite and soft-spoken, the presence of a dragonborn in these lands usually came with the assumption that he was either a mercenary or a thug for hire. At the time, he was neither of these things, and finding leads on any of his goals was proving to be difficult beyond imagining. His funds were also dwindling to the point where he would have to resort to begging if he did not find a means to earn coin soon. Resigned to the idea that he’d have to use his martial abilities to make his way on his quest, he sought out any openings to serve in mercenary companies. Rhokax was very particular about which companies he sought membership in; he wasn’t going to commit banditry, and he wasn’t interested in propping up petty nobility or enforcing for a spineless merchant. Since joining the Platinum Cadre he had come to appreciate the teachings of Bahamut. They resonated with his own sense of moral deeds, and he was determined to uphold them in any way he could through his deeds. Unfortunately that left him with few options, namely one: Beiran Springreaper and his band of mercenaries known as the Scythes of Beiran. Upon meeting the man, Rhokax felt that the name sounded more impressive than the small band of individuals he saw gathered before him. Mercenary Company was stretching the term to the limits, as there were only five of them including Beiran, a wiry half-elf man who was quick with his feet and his tongue. Resigned to the only group that met his most important criteria, Rhokax signed on with the request that they continue to move from town to town, aiding in his own quest for information regarding the Cult of the Dragon. Beiran, eager to have a hulking dragonborn as part of his “company” was quick to accept his offer. This began a nearly ten-year journey which led Rhokax from the small band that was the Scythes of Beiran, into the full company of men who fought under Beiran and his five lieutenants, one of which became Rhokax. The dragonborn was integral to the company’s formation, with his sound tactics in battle and martial prowess earning Beiran a name for himself as a tough group of mercenaries who could get the job done, and who were highly selective of their clients. Potential employers knew not to waste their time with the Scythes if their motives were anything less than noble or just. Rhokax grew as well, drawn to the power of Bahamut, he found himself drawing on divine powers he had only witnessed Medrash wielding during the wars fought years prior. This only made the Scythes prestige grow across the land. Eventually Rhokax heard whisperings here and there and determined that the famous Flaming Fists of Baldur’s gate had encountered the Cult of the Dragon and won against them a number of times. There was conflict in Rhokax’ heart however, as he had heard of the Tymanther-Unther war back home. While it had resolved, he knew a new war was just on the horizon, and perhaps he could better serve his people back home, fighting against the incursion of his home. His messages to the Cadre always came back with the request to continue his journey and return once he felt confident in his abilities to counter the tactics of the Cult and make the Platinum Cadre that much more effective a fighting force for Tymanther. With reservations, Rhokax continued. With the company sending units of men to different regions to help cover costs and begin to fund a base of operations, Rhokax asked Beiran to join him on his journey to Baldur’s gate, to introduce the dragonborn to the Flaming Fists as a fellow mercenary commander, and to facilitate an exchange of knowledge. Beiran agreed, bringing his own unit, and Rhokax with his, to earn some gold along the way. Recent History: Rhokax and Beiran with their men arrived at Baldur’s Gate, and were directed to Beregost to speak with Captain Palma Goldtree, the Flaming Fist commander of the town who supposedly had the greatest amount of experience in combating the Cult through regional maneuvers and tracking. Upon arrival at Beregost, Rhokax had only a day of speaking with the Captain when the town came under attack by the Cult. Aiding in the defence of the town with their own men, all commanders were surprised by the ferocity of the attack, and the armed force they were facing. Captain Goldtree hadn’t experienced such a confrontation before, and with the Scythes aid was just holding out to protect Beregost from the worst. Rhokax led his men from the front as usual, urging them forward and swinging his battleaxe to great effect, felling kobolds and cultists as they came, but it was not enough. Rhokax watched as his men fell around him, barely able to keep some standing as they came closer and closer. He could see Beiran fighting for his life nearby, and the half-elf took a mortal blow to his back, the enemy moving past to seek a new opponent, their eyes falling on Rhokar. Yelling out in defiance, the dragonborn cleric of bahamut threw out his power, seeking to heal one of his oldest friends, but felt a slam to the back of his head which caused a flash in front of his eyes, and a numbness to overcome his body, falling towards the blood-soaked ground below. Darkness enveloped his consciousness, and he had no idea how many of his men were alive or dead, or whether Beiran was saved by Rhokar’s last-ditch aid. He awoke to his arms bound in chains, his armor and weaponry stripped of his person, and alone of anyone he could rely on. Rhokar found himself a captive of the Cult.

[G in Japan]

Name: Sora
Race: Air Genasi
Class: Monk
Background: Far Traveller
Personality:

Sora is naturally inquisitive, especially now that she has found her way so far from home. She wants to see all of the wonders of this new land, even the more terrifying places. Perhaps she wants to see those places even more than the safe ones.

While Sora is rather small and unassuming, she has no problem standing up for herself. She will speak out when she thinks that the people around her are behaving in a way she thinks is foolish and make sure they know what she thinks the best course of action is, even if it goes against the consensus. She does not, however, want to lead and is happy to follow the instructions of others, so long as those instructions do not put others in danger needlessly.

Having grown up in a foreign land, Sora has a number of personality quirks that others may find strange. She has different assumptions from those around her concerning personal space, blithely invading others' space in innocence, or reacting to the ignorant invasion of her own. She also begins or ends her day with small traditional rituals that are unfamiliar to those around her. Finally, she occasionally pretends not to understand the local language in order to avoid interactions she would rather not have. She tries not to do it too often, but it has gotten her out of some uncomfortable situations in the past.

Backstory:

• Grew up as part of a travelling carnival
• Worked with the knife thrower, learned how to juggle, and was one of the people who ran the shell game (+3 Dex, total; Sleight of Hand proficiency)
• She also helped look after the other carnies' children (+1 Cha)
• She was well like, but a bit annoying, as she also had bit of trivia that she wanted to share (+1 Int)
• After a series of unexplained murders in one of the towns the carnival was in, her people were accused and persecuted, but she and some others were taken in and hidden by the local clergy (+1 Wis)
• During this time, she had to learn how to read people - tell friend from foe - and how to keep an eye out for people who may have been tailing her or obvious traps (+1 Wis; Perception and Insight proficiency)
• In order to protect her and her people, they had to separate to be harder to track and Sora went to a monastery with an enlightened monk (+1 Wis)
• At the monastery, she was able to train with the monks (+2 Dex, Acrobatic proficiency) and she taught herself how to play the flute and painting (+1 Cha, Flute and Painter's Supplies proficiency)
• However, a year ago, she began to have horrible nightmares about the end of the world and headed out for Greenest (Adventure Hook)
• She bought passage on a ship headed west
• The ship did not take her the whole way to Greenest, and she had to spend months in the wilds to make it all the way (+1 Wis)
• She arrives around the time that the fallen are being laid to rest

 

Sora
Level 2 Monk
medium air genasi, chaotic good
Armor Class 15
Hit Points 15/15
Speed 40 ft.

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Hit Dice 2d8
Initiative +3
Condition Normal
Inspiration No
Proficiency Bonus +2

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Str 10 (0) | Dex 16 (+3) | Con 12 (+1) | Int 11 (0) | Wis 14 (+2) | Cha 12 (+1)

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Saving Throws Str +2, Dex +5
Skill Proficiencies Acrobatics +5, Insight +4, Perception +4, Sleight of Hand +5
Damage Resistances
Senses passive Perception 14

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Ki Points 2/2 (I need to meditate for at least 30 min of a short rest for that short rest to restore ki)
• Flurry of Blows (1 ki point): After taking the Attack action, I can make 2 unarmed attacks as a bonus action
• Patient Defense (1 ki point): As a bonus action, I can take the Dodge action
• Step of the Wind (1 ki point): As a bonus action, I can either Dash or Disengage; My jump distance doubles when I do so
Unending Breath
• I can hold my breath indefinitely while I am not incapacitated.

---

Actions
Mingle with the Wind: I can cast the Levitate spell once with this trait, requiring no material components, and I regain the ability to cast it this way when I finish a long rest. Constitution is my spellcasting ability for this spell.

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[Maskain]

- Name: Dane Race: Human Class: Rogue (Assassin) Background: Criminal (Infiltrator) Homeland: Mosstone, Tethyr Traits: I am relaxed by nature. In a rural environment my cares tend to wash away. However, if I am in the city I get nervous and tense. There is no such thing as a fair trade. People always seek to gain something from me, so I expect to be cheated. Bond: The title of Scythe is mine... for now. It is to be seen if this is simply a new cage. Ideal: There is no meaning to why we exist, so why not live life to the fullest and do what you want? Flaw: I would like to think that lying comes naturally to me, but it's obvious my lies are terrible to any outside observer. Backstory: I was once a part of a mercenary group out of Baldur's Gate. The Flaming Fist. When I was young they were the only thing around. Farmers had sons and merchants hate footpads so I was pulled off the streets and given a couple coppers to assist the Flaming Fist. Since I never really had parents, I was scooped up just like many others to join someone else's war down in Tethyr. If I had brothers it's possible they were the bastards I learned to fight beside. All I know is that by the time we were ready to fight, the war had been won and we were irrelevant. Instead, all the Fist were in Baldur's Gate becoming protectors of the lords and ladies. My experience with that place led me to despise working in big cities, in governments. It wasn't battle. There was no thrill in cleaning up a Gate pisser causing mischief. No grit or gold. And all Marshal Ravengard wanted was that city. My fist was used for ink on parchment, blood on pavement, not anything more. I saw what was coming and broke my ties with them as soon as they became noble dogs, as soon as the silvers I had were heavy enough. My name would never bear the seal of those politicians; it would never be bound to a cause beyond my own desires. The roads became my home. No walls and a problem at every side. There were several banners I fell under. Some on the Sword Coast, further north, east, and at one point a ship, but that didn't last long. Each I left behind when things went inky or to blight. Due to this I gained a rather distasteful moniker: Bannerless Dane. At first it was a laugh, but it fit my way of life. I was Bannerless Dane. One man against the world. Those that Significantly Effected Dane-- Lythra Grutuk was an orc mercenary that Dane spent more time with than any. A ranger like him and only a bit less of a scoundrel, he had to run from her after getting too close, saying he'd stay and scout for the Scythes. He misses her and doesn't know where she is ever since the battle in Beregost. The Band of Seven Arms was a group Dane was with before the Scythes that, after stealing from and being caught in a lie, beat him within an inch of his life and stripped him of all his possessions. It is the only band he's been in that he didn't get an emblem from. He has a grudge to say the least. Hopes, Fears and Secrets-- Hope: My life has always bent to coin. Copper for the Fist, silver for myself, and gold for the dragon. Coin won't make me better, but I think I know someone who can. Hope: Someone named Barnabas is in danger because of my greed. I will save them. Fear: My honor has bound me to a cause. A group. I know the weakness that this sort of connection will bring. Fear: I've heard the words of Sehanine and know them to be true. My "story" is unchanged for now. Secret: I regard the emblems I've gained as memories and look at them in secret when I want to get lost in the past. I don't like people to think me emotional, so I hide this sentimentality.   Name: Dane (aka: "Bannerless Dane") Race: Human Class: Rogue (Assassin) Background: Criminal (Infiltrator) Homeland: Mosstone, Tethyr Traits: I am relaxed by nature in a literal sense. If I am in my home environment of trees, plains, campsites, small towns and caravans any insult or problem can't stress me, however, if I am in an unknown environment, this is reverse. There is no such thing as a fair trade. People always seek to gain something from me, so I expect to be cheated. Bond: I am a drifter, changing mercenary groups at the drop of a hat, though, I remember the names of the people I worked with and will always show them honor. Ideal: Absurdism. There is no real meaning to why we exist, so why not live life to the fullest and do what you want. Flaw: I would like to think that lying comes naturally to me, but it's obvious my lies are terrible to any outside observer. Backstory: I don't remember my family, my parents, if I had brothers, but it's likely I've fought beside them if I did. After all, I was handed a dagger at a young age and told to assist the Flaming Fist, a mercenary group out of Baldur's Gate, with my branch being based in Tethyr. Our goal was never clear to me and to this day I don't care to find out why we were there. All I know is that I was borne to the blade and will likely die by it, same as the many brothers and sisters I have now. My experience with the Fists led me to despise big cities and governance, something that with time the mercenary band would grow more accustomed to. I saw this coming and broke my ties with them early on, as soon as I knew my life was mine and that the coppers I'd packed away were heavy enough to find a more fulfilling life. My name should never bear the seal of any state or legion; it should never be bound to a cause beyond my own desires. It had been stupid to leave alone, of course, and on my way north I was reminded of that after a pack of kobolds ambushed my ignorant self on the road. Likely it was dumb luck that saved me. The small crossbow I robbed off one found marks soundly in each one of the beasties, though their stone shivs and bolts shred me to near ribbons as well. Back then, I took a seal of one of the dragon-folk as a memory of a hard fought battle, something I'd continue doing with each group I worked with and against. Several banners I've fallen under, each one being another I left behind; and always for the same reason. Due to this I gained a rather distasteful moniker, given by those I'd worked with: Bannerless. Bannerless Dane. It fits my way of life, but tends to lower my stock if too many employers hear I'm not going to stay theirs. Recently, after hightailing it from a mercenary group called The Scythes of Beiran after hearing they were headed north-west, I came into contact with a new group called The Cult of the Dragon. Those that Significantly Effected Dane-- Lythra Grutuk was an orc mercenary that Dane spent more time than any with and had to run from after getting too close. He misses her, but believes that if he meets her again he would fall in love and settle down. The Band of Seven Arms was a semi-recent group Dane was with that, after stealing from and being caught in a lie, beat him within an inch of his life and stripped him of all his possessions. It is the only band he's been in that he didn't get an emblem from. He has a grudge to say the least. Hopes, Fears and Secrets-- Hope: When I was young, coppers allowed me to live how I do now. Someday gold will allow me to find an even more fulfilling life. Hope: I leave people behind a lot, but sometimes I do wish that someone would chase after me. Fear: I fight people, hunt animals, and steal gold. What do I do when something or someone is better than me? What if they want me gone? I dread that on this day I won't have the resolve to become better than I am. Fear: One day I will fall in love with something that will change me into someone else. Love needs to be kept at bay. Secret: I am not picky about the groups or people I work with as long as they pay me. Least to say, I've committed atrocities. Secret: I regard the emblems I've gained as memories and look at them in secret when I want to get lost in the past. I don't like people to think me emotional, so I hide this sentimentality. Character Sheet--   Dane Level 4 Rogue Assassin Medium Human, Chaotic Neutral Armor Class: 14 Hit Points: 26/26 Speed: 30' Hit Dice: 4d8 Initiative: +8 Condition: Normal Inspiration: No Proficiency Bonus: +2 Str 12 (+1) | Dex 16 (+3) | Con 12 (+1) | Int 11 (0) | Wis 14 (+2) | Cha 10 (0) Saving Throws: Dexterity +5, Intelligence +2 Skill Proficiencies: Acrobatics +5, Athletics +3, Flaw: I would like to think that lying comes naturally to me, but it's obvious my lies are terrible to any outside observer.Deception +2, Perception +6, Slight of Hand +5, Stealth +5, Survival +4 Tool Proficiencies: Brewer's Supplies, Disguise Kit, Poisoner's Kit, Thieves' Tools (Expertise) Damage Resistances: -- Senses: Passive Perception 16, Immune Surprise (Alert) Alert (Feat). You gain a +5 bonus to initiative (already applied). You can't be surprised while you are conscious. Other creatures don't gain advantage on attack rolls against you as a result of being unseen by you. Assassinate. You have advantage on attack rolls against any creature that hasn't taken a turn in the combat yet. In addition, any hit you score against a creature that is surprised is a critical hit. Sneak Attack. Once per turn, you can deal an extra 2d6 damage to one creature you hit with an attack if you have advantage on the attack roll. The attack must use a finesse or a ranged weapon. You don't need advantage on the attack roll if another enemy of the target is within 5 feet of it, that enemy isn't incapacitated, and you don't have disadvantage on the attack roll. Actions Cunning Action. You can take a bonus action on each of your turns in combat. This action can be used only to take the Aim, Dash, Disengage, or Hide action. Tandem Tactician. You can use the Help action as a bonus action. When you use the Help action to aid an ally in attacking a creature, increase the range of the Help action by 10 feet. Additionally, you can help two allies targeting the same creature within range when you use the Help action this way.

[Aethera]

Name: Puma (doesn't really use his birth name much)
Concept: Human Circle of the Moon Druid (Emerald Enclave)

Appearance: When looking like the species of his birth, Puma is a tall and tanned younger man in his mid-twenties. His hair is jet black, but seems to have differing brown undertones that sometimes are revealed when he's messed it up by running his hand through his hair repeatedly. His eyes are a light amber, bordering on yellow. The clothes he wears are the clothes of an outlander who visits towns, but rarely stays in them. Any leather looks tanned by hand, and there is a collar of fluffy fur that might be fox fur under all the uncleaned detritus that could land on it and not be brushed off by someone who is unused to thinking of what others see of him.

Personality: Puma had once been a curious boy with enough energy to play and explore with other children, and when he's invested in a situation, he often displays all of those qualities. The key is to hook his interest, and the change from outlander to compatriot is overwhelming. As a wanderer his social qualities don't get much use, and the internal sort of focus where his mind is aware of what's going on around him but more interested in thinking about something else can cause him some grief when not alone. Druidic circles have a certain way about making individuals welcome to do their individual thing as they feel the need, which he has been unable to quite grasp in his individual travels. It's hard to bow out of a conversation when you don't know how. Most of his social understanding ceased at age 14, so he does come off mildly inept around total strangers.

Flaw: The orphan mentality in Puma is strong, a clear sense of focusing on what is needed for survival and where and how to get it. There's a certain pride involved in being able to take care of oneself in the Misty Forest or wherever his feet take him, as well as a withdrawn side, always the outsider, looking in. Both emotions can make him do things he wouldn't usually.

 

Puma was born "Bran Evenwood" in a little town along a trade route. It was little more than a stop at a convenient distance south of Daggerford that became an inn and stable and the people to support it. If they were not directly involved in keeping the inn and stable at their prime, most of the villagers were foresters, seeking food and materials in the edge of the Misty Forest near the village. His mother never discussed his absent father with him until he was old enough to understand the simple concept (having pressed her for answers repeatedly). As she told it, his father was a wanderer who made sure the forests continued living in harmony with the people. He had come by to make sure that the village was not taking too much wood that the forest would shrink. Apparently he stayed for some time, but wandering wasn't just a choice, it was in his soul. He'd left before Puma could make any memories of him. As it is, Puma will never really know, because they never really discussed it much before his mother died when he was thirteen. Stories she would tell, certainly, things that his father had told her, but she never gave him specifics about his father, and in all his wanderings since, no sign of his father ever was found. The magic his father had claimed to have did surface in the son, putting some of the less kind village rumors to rest.

When his mother died, at first he tried living by himself in their cottage, but it just reminded him of her. He spent more and more time in the woods, camping out there and bringing supplies back into town in exchange for things he couldn't make himself. Eventually he sold the cottage for a bit of money to save, and only returned to the village to trade or spend some time with a skilled worker in a field he didn't know yet. It was about a year of rough living and learning what the village could teach him before his wanderings began leading him over much greater distances. His first shapeshift came when he was camping in the woods and a pack of wolves came by to see what the smells of food were. He was so scared he just backed toward a tree and closed his eyes, waiting for something to happen. The noises were all around him, but nothing was happening. When he dared open his eyes, it appeared he had walked partway up the tree on his newfound black paws. If he hadn't been so scared of the wolf pack, he would have likely yelled and flailed about, never having heard that this kind of magic was what his father had. Perhaps it wasn't, but something related. Once the wolves were gone, he was able to inch his way down the tree and try and figure out what had happened. The size of his backpack told him he was considerably smaller, and the vernal pool he'd camped beside showed him an all-black cat like the one he had once wanted in the village.

It was in Daggerford that he first saw the puma. There were some type of festivities in the making, and all sorts of things were flowing into the town, from people to animals and caravans of fine things or entertainment opportunity. One such caravan had a cat they called a jaguar but it was all black, a deviation they called a "puma". Apparently it meant single colored. Since the teenager himself spent a great deal of time as a solid black cat, he immediately claimed the word for his own.

Motivations: From the moment that his mother died, the woodlands have been his home. He fits better there than anywhere else. Over time he met those with druidic powers like himself, numbering among various races that had all ended up in the Misty Forest. He objects to anything that would harm woodlands, or nature in general. Survival is one thing. The encroachment of people who didn't need what they took was another. This included him almost automatically when he met an envoy of the Emerald Enclave by the name of Storn in the woods who gradually opened up about what it was he did, and told stories of High Forest in the north. It took him some time to get there and visit the great tree the other had mentioned, but by the time he left, he was an initiate of the Enclave. They let him wander where he would, but messages did come to him of things they wanted him to do.

Goals: There's a little boy who never knew his father deep within Puma. He thinks he's accepted everything that goes with it, but it's still there, a tiny hole in his heart that never closed. Family is something he wants, yet doesn't truly understand how to have. He's a wanderer, much like his father had been, and unless he found a woman willing to wander with him, it seemed unlikely that he would find a family that he could remain with -- and he would not have a child and abandon him, he just wouldn't. He has seen druids who lived in the Misty Forest, mostly settled but still with range, yet that doesn't call to him quite yet. It may take the right woman to truly make him settle down.