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Old Dec 15th, 2017, 09:22 AM
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Jeffkevlar Jeffkevlar is offline
Space Goblin Number One
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Last Visit: Feb 10th, 2019
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Cast of Characters

Please put your characters here.
I have taken the Oath of Sangus.
DM of: So You Wanna Be A Starfinder? | Blood on the Snow | Out Of The Abyss
Very Very behind. So sorry if I owe you posts. Working on getting myself together to get back to work on here.
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Old Dec 15th, 2017, 09:50 AM
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Coron Coron is offline
Mature Adult Dragon
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Last Visit: Aug 15th, 2021
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Name: Hakon Asmundson
Race: Half-Jotun
Class: Paladin (Oath of The Ancients)
Alignment: Neutral Good
Background: Folk Hero
Personality Traits:
  • Looks do not make a warrior nor a hero: I am impressed by deed, not by mail and name.
  • Those that stand with me shall never fall so long as I breathe.
Ideal: Evil persists only when men have no courage to face it.
Bond: I seek a way for Jotun and Man to live in peace: We are all Heimdal's children. It must be possible.
Flaw: I am quick to rise to challenges concerning my race, and will not let them go until the matter is settled.
Quirks: I believe we are bound by wyrd to our final fates anyway, so what sense is there in hesitation? I have no fear to act: the Norns have already said whether I will succeed or not.
Favored Diety: Freyja




Last edited by Coron; Dec 19th, 2017 at 10:58 PM.
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Old Dec 15th, 2017, 11:25 AM
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Arthilian01 Arthilian01 is offline
Eccentric Wanderer
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Last Visit: Jun 15th, 2021
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Yinea Flokisdottir
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Name: Yinea Flokisdottir
Race: Half-elf
Class: Warlock (Pact of the Fiend)
Alignment: Neutral
Background: Hermit
Personality Trait:
-I’m oblivious to etiquette and social expectations.
-Live and Let Live. Meddling in the affairs of others only causes trouble. (Neutral)
-My isolation gave me great insight into a great evil that only I can destroy.
-I harbor dark, bloodthirsty thoughts that my isolation and meditation failed to quell.
-Yinea occasionally speaks in another language that no one else can understand (Because it isn't a language) and her laughter always sounds overly evil or maniacal.
Favored Diety: Eir: Goddess of healing, doctors and medicine. Despite her pact with a much older entity, she prays to the Goddess of healing and medicine to keep her dark thoughts at bay.

Backstory: Yinea was born to the village healer, the crazy old lady that lived in a hut just outside the village. Some say she was the result of tampering with dark and evil magic that made her different, the rumors of dark magic swirled around the former healer's cause of daeth. The people in the village could tell from her strange slightly pointed ears and almond-shaped eyes that Yinea was different or perhaps marked for something great. With her mother dead, her father unknown and her obvious differences they had decided to discard her to the wilderness but the village drunkard begged for her life to be spared, under the alternative that he would care for her. The elders thinking such a plan was destined for failure and the little girl would be dead before the first winter made it no different from their initial plan so they agreed. The drunkard named Floki stepped up to the task, putting down the bottle most days and picking up a milk skin to take care of the little girl was what saved his life and Yinea. By the time she was old enough to have her own mind, she considered Floki her father for all intents and purposes. Her want to be a part of the village was quelled by her father's pleas that she would be made fun of and kept distant. As the time of her adulthood neared her father became very ill and while she did her best to take care of him he didn't make it through the winter.

Now feeling very lost and alone she fled to the village to ask for help but instead found rumors and venom towards her for being so different. Eventually, certain remarks led her to her mother's hut just beyond the outskirts and in that hut she found something she hadn't bargained for. Books of knowledge and something darker, a presence she couldn't explain. She came into her power that night and discovered many untold secrets of magic and power.

When the village elder fell ill, Yinea appeared once again from her self-inflicted exile and despite the dirty looks that she had grown used to, she pushed past the gathered and ministered her new-found art upon them and in time they became well again. The people of the village were grateful to Yinea but they knew such a miracle was surrounded by dark and powerful magic, They feared and yet were grateful of the possibility that Yinea has taken up her mother's mantle and in time started bringing their sick to the same hut where her mother had lived. Despite willingly separating herself from the others of the village, she cares deeply for her people and when strange happenings are about, the Jarl would be crazy not to turn to Yinea for the happenings may have very dark magic at their roots.

Family Heroes: Yinea's mother was well-known to the village, everyone viewed her as something of an unknown entity despite being the village healer she was also somewhat eccentric. Her powers staved a plague from the village years ago.

Role play example: Warm tears rolled down her cold face, the cold north wind turned the tears into dry specks on her skin. Several children had thrown stones at her as she had fled from her village. As she stumbled through the woods only a little ways from town she found an old hut, slightly run-down and definitely abandoned. As she approached, the bone chimes hanging ragged at the door 'clack clack' in the wind. The door was jammed and she gave it hard shove with a grunt of effort and it came loose.

The inside of the hut was a mess, but as Yinea walked about inside, her hand trailing through the dust, she felt a familiarity to it a memory from a time she couldn't remember. She found thick tomes and on the pages were scrawled recipes and ..were those spells? These pages held knowledge about healing the sick, as well as rituals and magic.

Then whispers in the dark...from somewhere in the hut, "You are the daughter...her blood runs through your veins.."
Yinea's head turned to track the source of the whispers, the old book fell from her hands and onto the table as she moved towards the other side of the room, where the whispers must have come from...

The whispers again, "You will serve..." With those whispers, Yinea had no time to move or protest, a darkness fell around her then plunged her into unconsciousness. When she awoke, she had gained a strange innate knowledge of the magic rituals she found in the book, languages she before could not understand, but now they were clear, laying bare ancient secrets of the Old Ones... or so she thinks.

Clear out your inboxes and outboxes!

Last edited by Arthilian01; Mar 10th, 2018 at 06:16 AM.
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Old Dec 15th, 2017, 11:42 AM
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Valuria Valuria is offline
Very Young Dragon
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Last Visit: Jan 25th, 2018
RPXP: 92
Posts: 11
right-aligned image
Name: Toras Medrasson

Race: Human

Class: Bard (College of Satire)

Alignment: CG

Background: Entertainer

Personality Trait: I view all things, even my present problems, as if from an outsider's perspective and will sometimes take actions because they'll make a better story later.

Ideal: To understand your own smallness and to laugh at it is the key to a happy life.

Bond: I will show my village that I'm more than a simple fool by proving myself in combat.

Flaw: While I'm very good at reading social cues, I have been known to ignore my own best judgement when I see a chance to ridicule someone.

Quirks: I use excessive hand gestures while talking to illustrate my points.

Favored Diety: Bragi


Toras Medrasson is widely considered one of the best bards in the village. His life story is best expressed through poem:

His quick wit and quicker tongue
Kicked out by the old
But brought in by the young
It will seldom be told
By any who knows
That he's felt a fright
Or backed off from blows
And yet this starry night
Let us tell a tale
Of when Toras saw a Jotun
And quivered in his mail

It was late at night
When Toras returned home
And was met with a terrible sight
For while he was away finding tales for his tome
His family was slaughtered by forces unknown
So young Toras, quite naive
Left the village all on his own
He was determined that he would cleave
The faces off the killers of his family

Thus young Toras embarked on his quest
Which was fated to last a week at best
But lo and behold, that was enough time
For the dear subject of this rhyme
To stumble upon a cave most imposing
He saw just as the door was closing
That entering was a terrible beast
"A Jotun!" he thought "And it's having a feast!"
For in its arms it seemed to carry
The entrails of all who saw it and tarried
"I must kill it!" said Toras
"For vengeance I must"
But 'twas not to be for he was found
By a hunter, creeping low to the ground
Who whispered to him
"Your chances are slim
Of killing this devil
Come back, I beg, once you reach its level"
And Toras, though he was blinded by grief
Was ready to turn back but stepped on a leaf
And though it made but a little sound
The reply sent shockwaves through the ground
The hunter ran the other way
But Toras was compelled to stay
By a sight that truly he couldn't unsee
His father being eaten for a Jotun's glee

And in his father’s hands he saw
As he dripped out the jotun’s maw
His family crest, sullied with blood
Being dragged through the snow and mud

“My father’s shield!” cried Toras, surprised
As it was carried by the jotnar he despised
“I will get it back, I swear to you
Even if I must wade through a swamp of glue”

And that is why, until this day
His grudge against Jotnar will not go away
And why he chose to serve his Jarl
When he was asked he said with a snarl
"There's nothing that I'd rather do
Than slay these awful creatures for you"

Family Heros: Medras, Toras's father, is considered a martyr by many for standing his ground and fighting when the Jotun attacked several years ago.

Role play example: The wooden blade made a broad arch through the air. Toras traced it with his eyes and moved his own sword to block it, but he was too late. The strike fell on his neck, sending a spike of pain up his spine and causing his sword arm to crumple. With his defenses down, it was a simple matter for Harold to finish him off. First came two blows to the body, knocking the air from Toras’s lungs, followed by one to the back of head that sent him crumpling to his knees. Four swings of a wooden sword was all it took to make Toras kneel, and it infuriated him.

”Again,” he growled.
”You sure?” asked Harold, ”Maybe ye just ain’t cut out for fighting?”
”I said again.”
Harold shrugged and lifted his sword for one more round. This time, Toras resolved, would be different from the others.

This time, Toras was prepared for the first strike and lunged in to block it. Naturally, his lungs was side stepped and the blow came down instead on his right shoulder, unbalancing him. Without taking a breath, Harold sent two more swings crashing into Toras’s chest. Toras felt himself thrown backwards and contemplated for a second whether this was his the strings of his lyre felt when he strummed them, tossed about by a force far outside their power. His reverie was interrupted by the feeling of hard wood slamming into stomach, before he was finished as always by a final swing to the back of the head that sent him to the ground.
”Five strikes,” muttered Toras with a grimace, “I’m improving.”
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Old Dec 15th, 2017, 12:06 PM
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LordGalitor LordGalitor is offline
Very Old Dragon
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Last Visit: Feb 4th, 2023
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Elgr HakonsonName: Elgr Hakonson
right-aligned image

Race: Human
Class: Cleric (Tempest)
Alignment: CG
Background: Folk Hero
Personality Traits:
1) I judge people by their actions, not their words
2) Thinking is for other people, I prefer action
Ideal: Tyrants must not be allowed to oppress the people
Bond: I protect those who cannot protect themselves
Flaw: I have a weakness for the vices of the city, especially hard drink
Motivated to justice though justice seen through his eyes
Can be rash both in deed and word

Favored Diety: Thor






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Last edited by LordGalitor; Feb 4th, 2018 at 06:12 PM.
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Old Dec 15th, 2017, 12:21 PM
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Jasontheswift Jasontheswift is offline
Adult Dragon Jedi
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right-aligned image
Name: Kvistur, call me Kiv
Race: Human
Class: Ranger
Alignment: CG
Background: Hermit
Personality Trait: I’ve been isolated for so long that I rarely speak, preferring gestures and the occasional grunt.
Ideal: - Greater Good. My gifts are meant to be shared with all, not used for my own benefit. (Good)
- Free Thinking. Inquiry and curiosity are the pillars of progress. (Chaotic)
Bond: My isolation gave me great insight into a great evil that only Ican destroy.
Flaw: I like keeping secrets and won’t share them with anyone.
Quirks: - He eats his food in this order: meat, potatoes, greens and then drinks his beverage
- He refuses to pull down his wolf cowl despite the feelings of others
Favored Diety: Uller

Family Heros: Kiv's adopted father Varis "Bright-eye" has been known as a Druid from the South for centuries who has acted as an advisor to some, a rival too others but always focused on the health of the forest and ensuring the lines between the people and nature are drawn where necessary.
Role play example:

Last edited by Jasontheswift; Dec 15th, 2017 at 01:07 PM.
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Old Dec 15th, 2017, 01:09 PM
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tomplum tomplum is online now
1975, lol
Good People  

Hall of Fame GM 2019
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Erpip Ashborn
left-aligned image
Name: Erpip Ashborn

Race: Gnome

Class: Druid

Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Background: Hermit

Personality Trait: I connect everything that happens to me to a grand, cosmic plan.

Ideal: Emotions must not cloud our sense of what is right and true, or our logical thinking.

Bond: My isolation gave me great insight into a great evil that only I can destroy

Flaw: I’d risk too much to uncover a lost bit of knowledge

Quirks: No sense of humor – Responds to all jokes as if they’re serious statements.
Speaks very fast in run-on sentences.

Favored Diety: Saga

Backstory: The great hall of Jarl Numi Snorisson exploded into chaos as a squirrel had slipped in through doors, leapt on the feast table and promptly transformed into a gnome. Wasting no time, the intruder demanded to see the Jarl and launched into a story so lengthy and verbose as to cause the Jarl to contemplate having the newcomer killed on the spot. Only once the farseer had the foresight to place a haunch of meat before the tiny creature did the gnome cease prattling on about destroyed villages, rampaging jotuns, and despoiled wilderness.

The land cried out in anguish, awash in the blood of eastern settlements as the streams run red. A great evil grows in the east and if the Jarl does not wish his lands to join those in ruin already, action must be taken. A call to arms for the people of the west to follow this strange fey creature into peril for the sake of all.

Family Heroes: Slibbi Ashborn, first of his line, born below a blazing ash tree, half fey, half Midgard, he started the tradition of all Ashborns to protect not only the lush feywild but also the wilderness of the mortal world, taking the forms of beast and bird in their noble pursuit. It was Erpip’s heritage to preserve the natural world and remember the stories of the earth.

Role play example: He had to convince the Jarl to send aid east. Unchecked, the evil there would grow to devour all the Northlands in the brutality, cruelty, and defilement of the jotun.

”Gather your strongest, your wisest, your fastest and send them east to shine a light into the encroaching darkness the jotun spread through the lands, you have heard the tales of entire villages destroyed under the boot of the jotun, know this fate will come to pass within your realm as well if you do not act, my aid, for what its worth, I swear to this endeavor, for the good of all, a stand must be made while we can withstand the wave before it crashes down upon us, I plead with you great Jarl, do not turn a blind eye to the horrors of the east.”

His message delivered to the Jarl, Erpip strolled to the tavern to make sure the people of this territory would know of the dire circumstances. If the Jarl would not listen to Erpip, perhaps the gnome could stir his people to call for action. Every minute the Jarl wasted contemplating a reaction more of the world burned under the heel of the jotun.
I have taken the Oath.
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Old Dec 15th, 2017, 01:28 PM
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SadPanda284 SadPanda284 is offline
Old Dragon
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Asrid Grímsdóttir
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Name: Astrid Grímsdóttir

Race: Changeling

Class: Ranger

Character Sheet:

Alignment: Neutral; goes with her gut, whether that follows the "rules" or not

Physical Description: In her true form, Astrid is a tall woman with pale green skin, silver hair and bright green eyes; however few have ever seen her in her true form as she prefers to stay in disguise. She dresses in a very simple patchwork leather armor & keeps a fang from a dire wolf on a chain around her neck as a reminder of her adoptive father & what it takes to survive. She was taught to hunt at a young age & keeps a longbow on her back at all times. She also carries with her a whip & 2 shortswords at her sides.

Background: Astrid never knew her parents, & that was fine with her. If they didn't want to keep her, then they must have had their reasons; at least that's what her adoptive father had always said. He was a human who often wandered the forests around his home in search of food, & had happened upon her by sheer luck one day while hunting a doe he had planned to have for dinner that night. She found out later that the reason he had lived alone was that he was known as a níðingr/ᚾᛁᚦᛁᚴᛦ, an outcast or villain who had been banished from his village. He never told her what crime he had committed to earn such a title, but she cared not, for he had shown her love & compassion when no one else would. He took her in & even named her after his mother. He raised her to hunt & gather food, & her childhood was one of great fun & "adventure"; but as she grew older, she began to yearn for more. She wanted to learn more than simple survival, & to see more than just the woods surrounding the old man's house. She had started to travel farther & farther from home each day, & one day she decided to journey into one of the local villages; this is when she learned the extent of her father's love, as she was regarded with much fear & disgust due to her strange appearance, & eventually forced to flee back into the forest. It took her many weeks to get over the fear she felt of being discovered again by another, but eventually she began to miss exploring the woods. She slowly started to explore farther & farther from her home, & eventually her life returned to normal, though she never dared to show her face to anyone again. In her exploration, she had on several occasions happened upon various druid tribes in their travels across the countryside. She watched them closely, & was thrilled to watch them weave their magics. One in particular that had always spoken to her deeply was their ability to transform into various animals. Try as she might, she never could learn to change as they could, but she felt in her gut that this magic was something she should be able to tap into somehow; she never could voice where this feeling came from, she just knew it to be true. One day while she was intently going over the spells in her mind & doing her chores, her father snuck up on her. Startled, she turned to him & he gasped. "What is wrong faðir?" she asked with fear. "Your nose, child," he replied. Running to the water bucket, she glanced at herself, & surprisingly found that her nose was not her own, but that of her father. This was when she learned where her changing abilities truly lie; not in turning into animals as the druids had, but in changing into other people. She practiced this over time & learned that she could change more & more of herself, until eventually she was able to change her entire body to match that of her father. This day was both the happiest & saddest day, for as she ran home to show him her skill, she found the place covered in blood & her father gone. Following the tracks as he had taught her, she came upon a pack of wolves feasting on his remains. With great anger in her heart & tears in her eyes, she slaughtered them all in a fit of rage. She returned to her home covered in blood, & immediately began packing her bags. She could not stay here, for the pain was too great. Using her new abilities, she transformed into the likeness of one of the druids she had often watched from childhood & began her journeys across the countryside.

Personality Trait: Knowing the pain of the loss of a loved one, I am slow to connect with others; however I watch over my friends as if they were a litter of newborn pups.

Ideal: Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it. Life can also be harsh & unkind, but we must weather the storms & wait for them to pass.

Bond: My family, clan, or tribe is the most important thing in my life, even when they are far from me.

Flaw: I am slow to trust others. I have opened my heart in the past & been hurt by it, so I generally prefer not to let someone in unless they have proven themselves to be worth that pain.

Quirks: I have never been one to stay in one place for long. When I'm alone in the woods hunting, I can sit patiently for hours; but any other time I feel an urge to stay on the move constantly.

Favored Diety: Ullr. My bow is my defense, my means of survival, & one of the few positive memory tokens from my father

Backstory: Astrid has lived for many months in the guise of a nordic human woman she once met in a tavern many veier (vei=about 7 miles) from this village. Though she has no real connection to anyone here, she has come to like this Jarl for he seems fairly strong & just. She lives & hunts in the forests nearby, spending most of her time alone except when selling her goods (skins, fish, fruits) in the village. Many have taken to calling her veiðr einn because of her preference to hunt & live alone. Still, her skill is known well enough that even Numi Snorisson believes she could be an asset to the group. She has been living on the outskirts of the village for some time, the longest she has ever stayed in one place really; & though she only barely notice its citizens, she feels a connection with the village itself, almost as if she may be...home? Hearing the news of this nearby threat, she has decided to step outside her comfort zone & offer her services to aid in protecting the town from whatever may be coming.

Family Heroes: I've never known who my birth family was, but my adoptive father told me many stories of his family. I was named after his mother, Astrid Grímsdóttir, & she was a skjaldmær, a shieldmaiden warrior known for her beauty & her fighting prowess. She was counted as one of the strongest among her village, able to hold herself up against any but the very strongest of the men. Once in a war against a neighboring village, she found herself cutoff & alone, facing down 6 men looking to rape her & leave her for dead; but she managed to hold her own & when the other villagers found her, she was covered in the enemies' blood, all of them lying at her feet.

Role play example:
The clearing was silent, but for the gnawing & nashing of the teeth of 3 dire wolves before her. Astrid could see much blood had pooled under her faðir, & tears began to silently pour from her eyes as fear crept into every part of her. That fear was quickly replaced by rage; these creatures were not the majestic beasts of these woods, but monsters invading this land & taking what they pleased. They had taken her faðir, & she couldn't allow them to live for that. Releasing the arrow that she had somehow managed to nock when she first arrived, she watched as it sailed through the silence & found its mark, penetrating the eye & brain of one of the wolves. Before it could even hit the ground, she had released a second arrow which dug its way into another wolf's chest. The wolf shrieked in pain & began trying to claw the arrow out. As it did this, the third wolf turned towards Astrid & growled at her with all of its teeth bared. As it came barreling towards her she dropped her bow & brought forth her shortswords from her sides. As the wolf jumped into the air hoping to pin her to the ground, she brought the swords up & plunged them deep into either side of its neck. Blood gushed forth & drenched her face & chest as the dead weight of the wolf's body landed on her, taking her down hard on her back. With all her might, she shoved the corpse to the side just in time to see the second wolf coming towards her. She rolled backwards at it brought its mouth to bare on the empty space where she had been only seconds ago. Leaping onto its back, she repeatedly stabbed her swords into its back as it screamed horribly. Again & again she dug the blades in to the hilt, the blood spraying everywhere as it collapsed to the ground; however she didn't stop even after it was dead. She continued to stab it repeatedly, with tears pouring out uncontrollably & her own screams of pain echoing through the trees. Finally, when almost all her strength was gone, she collapsed on the wolf's back. Using the last energy she could muster, she crawled over to where her faðir lay, & holding his remains in her arms she wept until darkness fell all around her.

Last edited by SadPanda284; Dec 16th, 2017 at 01:36 AM.
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Old Dec 15th, 2017, 05:40 PM
Mizhi Mizhi is offline
Great Wyrm
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Posts: 1,453
Character Info
left-aligned image
Name: Nila Frà Ardal (Lokisdottir)
Race: Human
Class: Shadow Sorcerer
Alignment: CN
Background: Inheritor
Personality Trait: I am incredibly slow to trust. Those who seem the fairest often have the most to hide.
Ideal: Independence. I am a free spirit--no one tells me what to do. (Chaotic)
Bond: I've been searching my whole life for the answer to a certain question. (Parentage)
Flaw: I remember every insult I've received and nurse a silent resentment toward anyone who's ever wronged me.
Quirks: I am always icy cold to the touch.
Favored Diety: Loki

Infamous/Notable FamilyAstrid Evaldisdotter was the beloved, beautiful daughter of Evald Daggerson, a renowned and respected warrior with many a song sung of his exploits. He once claimed to have bested Loki at a game of chance. It was his audacious boast that caused his family's downfall. Astrid quickened with child. She claimed that Loki had visited her in secret, and that he was the father of her unborn child. Her insistence that her tale was truth was ridiculed and brought shame upon her family. Astrid was driven mad and became a shadow of her former beautiful self. Evald grew bitter and cursed Loki for making a laughingstock of his family's legacy.

BackstoryNila was chosen for this mission at a lark. She was lurking and listening at the edges of the hall, but her normal wariness and attentiveness failed her. There was a screech and inane chattering as her mother made herself known, thrusting herself into the middle of the hall and falling at the Jarl's feet.

"Nila! Nila! Lokisdottir!" her mother insisted, clutching the Jarl's legs, her ravaged face twisted in a crazed mockery of a smile. "Lokisdottir! Lokisdottir!"

Nila's pale face flushed in humiliation. Her eyes darted around until she found her grandfather, deep in his cups. There would be no aid from him. She wished to run, to flee to ... where? Where could she go?

Instead she found herself moving forward with her head held high. "Forgive her for her impudence, she is not well," she murmured, her voice echoing strangely through the now silent hall. But as she made to grasp her mother's arm to pull her away, the Jarl's sudden laughter made her pause.

"Nila ... Lokisdottir," Numi Snorisson stated, his voice impassible. His eyes glanced to her grandfather, once one of his father's finest warriors, and back to her frozen form. He sat, still as stone, thinking for what seemed an eternity. "You will go."

"Yes, yes, we will go," Nila replies quickly, tugging at her mother's still prostrate form.

"No," he clarifies, leaning forward. To her horror and confusion, he smiles down at her. Not a warm smile, not a friendly one, but one full of secrets. "You will go east. Prove yourself worthy of your name, Lokisdottir." He laughs once more in dismissal, and the sound of it mocks her as she leads her grinning mother out of the hall.

Role play exampleNila stands in a shadowy corner of the hall. She couldn't resist the lure of people and laughter, although she had learned long ago not to try and join in. She would return soon enough to her mother's rooms, to her mad chatter and inane whispers. However, for a brief moment, Nila wishes she were like the others, normal, with an unremarkable family. Invisible, but a part of the rest. She shivers. This part of the hall was far from the roaring heat of the fires, and she neglected to bring her heavy cloak in her impulsive escapade.

Nila shrinks further into the shadows as the feasting grows louder and more boisterous. She is a creature of solitude and silence punctuated by sarcasm and a sharp retort. She didn't belong here, with the others. This is not her place.

"Nila Lokisdottir!" her mother exclaims with her raspy, ruined voice the moment she steps into her mother's stifling rooms. A haggard face looms in the dark and suffocating room as her mother's bony hands clutches at her blouse. "Lokisdottir!"

Nila twists out of her mother's reach, scowling. She hates that name. She had shed it long ago, but it resurfaces every now and then to her humilation. Lokisdottir indeed! She had grown listening to her mother's mad stories of Loki's secret visits. Starry eyed and naive, she was little prepared for the snickers of derision from the adults and the cruel honesty of the children.

She yearns to escape the claustrophobic confines of her mother's room, but tempers her instinct to flee into the dark and snowy night. Instead, she sighs with reluctance and takes her mother's hand, leading her back to her bed.

This was her lot in life. And this is her future. Caring for her mad mother, and, perhaps, joining her in madness.

Response to reviewShe definitely wants to get away from her mother and the future she imagines for herself. She sees herself going mad with solitude and becoming the same crazed shell of a human her mother is. Another reason would be simply because she was publicly told to do so. All eyes are on her, so to speak, especially with her background, and she would subject herself to even more scrutiny if she refused and remained behind.

Short term goal would be to escape from her mother's depressing influence. Longer term goal would definitely to earn a name for herself that's not "bastard" or "Loki's daughter", and perhaps the acknowledgement of her people. (Like Naruto, but not as corny.) Perhaps restoring whatever honor could be salvaged of grandfather's/family's legacy. She doesn't have any friends. Any children who may have befriended her in their innocence would have been dissuaded by their parents. Perhaps she's subconsciously seeking a kind of companionship, even if it's not friendship, that comes with sharing experiences and hardship.

Also, since her background is Inheritor, I was thinking she would have a crystal shard of sorts that she wears as a necklace for her arcane focus and as her inheritance. It may have been a gift from her mysterious father to her mother. Perhaps she's heard rumors that this sort of crystal could be found deep within Jotun territory to the east and is curious to see whether the rumors are true. Or perhaps the rumors were just a prank that will lead her on a merry and dangerous goose chase.
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Old Dec 15th, 2017, 05:52 PM
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rhaiber rhaiber is offline
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Name: Dagrún Vanadisdotr

Race: Wood Elf (Descendent of the First folk, people of the vanir)

Class: Druid

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Background: Hermit

Personality Trait: I’m oblivious to etiquette and social expectations. I place no stock in wealthy or well-mannered folk; money and manners won’t save you from a hungry owlbear.

Ideal: Change. Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it. (Chaotic)

Bond: I suffer awful visions of a coming disaster and will do anything to prevent it.

Flaw: I speak without really thinking through my words, invariably insulting others.

Quirks: After years of living in seclusion on the fringe of the wilderness with little human interaction, Dagrún has developed the habit of speaking to herself. This is not so much a conversation as it is an expression of her inner monologue. Dagrún is simply either unaware or unconcerned with the idea of others hearing her vocalize her thoughts.

Favored Diety: Dagrún harbors contempt for the Aesir, feeling that they only “won” the Vanir-Aesir war through deceit and dishonor. She feels resentment over the status of her Vanir gods Freya, Frey, and Njord as hostages of the Aesir. So she chooses instead to worship the Norns, most particularly Skuld.
BackstoryDagrún claims to be descended directly from the Vanir. When the Vanir-Aesir war concluded and the old gods withdrew from the world to seclude themselves in Vanaheim, Dagrún refused to accept defeat and remained behind in Midgard, choosing her connection to the land over that to her kin. Since then, she has lived the life of a hermit on the fringes of the wilderness. Humans of the village have occasionally sought her out as a keeper of wisdom, magic, and knowledge of healing. Although she is an incorrigible misanthrope, Dagrún is essentially good at heart. She inevitaby accedes to the pleas of those who seek her aid - begrudgingly, and not without vociferous complaints.

Family HeroesDagrún never speaks of her ancestors. She herself has lived outside the village for over 700 years, longer than the village itself has existed. Most people unaccustomed to the nature of elves find this difficult to comprehend. While they have heard mention of a hermit by the name of Dagrún in the stories of their fathers and their father’s fathers, they cannot believe that it is the same woman and therefore believe that the Dagrún they know must be a daughter or granddaughter of some other hermit who went by the same name.

Role play example:The rafters of the great mead hall rang with song and celebration. One burly warrior stood from his bench, his flaming red curls shining in the firelight. Holding his drinking horn high above his head, he shouted, “I, Lodvik son-of-Hringr dedicate our victory in battle to Thor!”

A great, roaring cheer swept through the hall. Yet at the same time it was cut through by the sound of a derisive snort which seemed to carry farther and louder than seemed naturally possible. A silence fell upon the gathered crowd as all eyes turned to the stooped and cloaked figure sitting in the corner of the hall, bent low over a drinking bowl.

“Feh! Thor Odinson.” The figure turned to spit upon the floor as though the name passing over the tongue was bitter and foul. Upon turning, the line of a sharp and crooked nose peeked out from beneath the heavy but worn dun-brown cloak. Wisps of white hair hung limply before a pale face, like tendrils of wax dripping from a tallow candle. One who was gifted enough to mentally peel away the years upon the face behind the hair and nose might guess that it had once been a thing of beauty, but that would require a generous imagination. Such a feat become even harder once the sharp tongue continued its commentary. “That feckless half-wit could nae even tell his own arse from a hole in the ground.”

The scarlet-bearded warrior who had spoken before placed his horn upon the table. He straightened his massive shoulders. Corded muscles rippled within the thick neck as he turned to face the old crone.

“Witch, we tolerate your presence in our hall, but you will not speak ill of our gods while you shelter under our roof. Not so long as I, Lodvik son-of Hringr -”

“Be ye still speaking of Hringr?”
the old crone interrupted the young warrior’s decree. There was an odd timbre to her voice, a sound both foreign and ancient, “Ye took your first breath a year after Hingr left to raid the Eastern Isles, yet only five months after his return; and surely I can nae be the only one to see that there be more of the smithy’s forge in your flaming curls than of Hringr’s golden locks.”

This was more than Lodvik could stand. He advanced upon the decrepit old mystic, his hand resting on the pommel of the sword at his belt.

“How dare you?” he growled. “Hag, you speak to a warrior true. I’ll have you know I cut down eight men on the field of battle this very day, and I brought home the head of a jarl.”

“Oh, did ye e’en so?”
the aged beldam let loose a cackle that resounded about the room like the repeated striking of iron on stone, “And is there a man here who can attest to witnessing such great and heroic deeds?” Here the crone paused. She stretched out a single withered finger and let it sweep across the room, challenging and accusing as it pointed towards each of the assembled warriors. “Ye were seen by many setting sail with your sworn brother Ulf the Iron-handed. Where is he now, eh? Did none here see when he was beset by enemies on all sides? Did none see ye flee for the tree-line when he called for your aid? Of course not. Nor did they see ye cowering among the firs. Certainly ye were nae seen by the young lad who happened to be dragging his wounded uncle from the field of battle to what he hoped would be the safety of the woods. Ye had not the bollocks to e’en face that beardless stripling, but ye chose to gut him from behind and take the shield of his fallen uncle as a trophy of your grand and glorious victory. Bah!”

Lodvik’s eyes darted nervously about as he straightened his back, struggling to maintain the bluster and indignation with which he had begun this interchange, but somehow lacking his prior level of conviction. “You lie, witch. You even say yourself that no were there to bear witness. You’re making all of this up.”

“Aye whelp, I did say there was no man there,”
the shrill voice softened surprisingly with this concession. It almost seemed as if the wire-taught tension in the hall was about to release. Even Lodovik’s shoulders dipped slightly as he exhaled deeply. But in an instant, a steely glint returned to the grey eyes behind in the hoary woman’s face and her flinty voice continued, “But the crows were there to see your cowardice and they have eyes and ears enough for me.”

The burly warrior bristled with rage at the accusation. Fingers wrapped around hilt of his sword with white-knuckled fury. Heavy boots pounded the floor. Within the blink of an eye, Lodvik had crossed to space of the hall and stood looming over the withered form of the ancient seer. Through clenched teeth, he spat, “Stay your tongue, witch, or -”

“Or what? Ye’ll stay it for me?”
The interruption was incredulous, uncowed by the massive bulk towering above, making the stooped and wizened crone appear even more frail and diminutive by comparison. “Would ye care to try? Let us step outside the protection of this roof and test your mettle. Should I fall before ye then ye may slay me, and I’ve no doubt that all the clan for ages yet to come will sing the tale of Lodvik, whose strength was the match of an old woman. But …” Here the tone shifted suddenly from sardonic mockery to something sinister and cold “... but … if ye should fall before me, I’ll not be the one to slay ye. I’ll let ye live the rest of your days with your ignoble shame. For Skuld has shown me the skein of your life, Lodvik, son-of-none. Many moons from now ye’ll fall on the field battle, but not with your sword in hand. That ye’ll drop as you soil yourself begging for mercy from a foe who knows none -”

“Dagrún Vanadisdotr!”
the old auger’s revelation was cut short by the deep baritone shout that echoed through the rafters of the great mead-hall. It was a voice that commanded awe and respect. “What cause have you to darken my hall?”

An immediate hush descended upon the gathered crowd as all eyes turned to focus on the source of the voice. Filling the doorway of the hall was the hulking mass of Jarl Numi Snorisson. Numi was a man of whom Dagrún approved - at least as much as she approved of any mortal. He was a man of action, a man of his word, and most importantly a man who knew when to use one over the other. He was a fine chieftain who placed the wellbeing of his people above all else. Though she would never admit it, he was a mortal she might even respect.

“Numi, son of Snoris, ye know I enjoy being under your roof almost as much as ye enjoy having me here.” A mirthless grin stretched across the old crone’s wizened face. “I’ve come to tell ye that while your people engage in petty squabbles, there is a great darkness that approaches, endangering us all. And it’s about time ye and your men did something about it.”
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Old Dec 16th, 2017, 05:25 PM
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lydklein lydklein is offline
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Adisa Róarrsdottir

Name: Adisa Róarrsdottir
Race: Elf
Class: Fighter Arcane Archer
Alignment: CG
Personality Trait:
  • I can stare down a hell hound without flinching.
  • I face problems head-on. A simple, direct solution is the best path to success.
Ideal: Independence. When people follow orders blindly, they embrace a kind of tyranny. (Chaotic)
Bond: Those who fight beside me are those worth dying for.
Flaw: I have little respect for anyone who is not a proven warrior.
Quirks: Your memory is quite good, but you have no problem pretending to be absentminded when it suits your purposes. You always sing songs when traveling from one place to another, even if it's under your breath.

Favored Diety: Odin (Allfather): father of all, god of magic, runes, war

Backstory: Trained by her father in the art of ranged fighting, Adisa served as a scout and sentinal on the edges of her homeland. Always one of the first to spot outsiders she was also among the first to engage an enemy, albeit from afar. Her strengths lay in the can change hair to dark. just liked the imageemerald haired elf's skill with a bow and arrow. Her natural talent allowed her to be recruited to train with a small elite unit of archers who had become proficient in the use of arcane magics outside the typical.

This unit occasionally occompanied the diplomatic caravan that dealt directly with the human king Jarl Numi Snorrison. Over the decades the unit gained the respect of the Jarl. In his need of heroes he sent word to Adisa's king requesting the presence of one or more of these Arcane Archers he had often seen. The king asked for volunteers. When no one else stepped forward, Adisa did. Thus setting upon a path she had never imagined for herself.

Family Heros: Great-Uncle Gallindan Varisson. An archer of great reknown in elven histories. Was part of an alliance made up of 5 'heroes' that helped save the elven king over 962 years ago.

Role play example: The snapping of twigs rang loudly in the still air. The animals huddling in the safety of their homes for warmth. The air too cold still for snow and for romping. It would soon warm up enough for hunting. Then the stillness would be broken by more than the occasional chirp of a bird. Again a snap this time followed by the rustle of cloth rubbing against cloth and branch. Sharp keen eyes spotted the source of the sound. A lone human traveling the deer paths this early was unusual. This one was wounded. Even more unusual, but it made sense to stay off of the main trails. Especially if he were being followed.

Adisa held still, just as her grandfather had taught her. The arrow held loose and ready against the bowstring. The mottled cloak doing it's best to help the elven girl hide as she watched the stranger make his way towards the human settlement 8 miles or so away.

Father will want to know about this. Wounded human's using our trails to travel on. Not good.

Brown eyes followed the man's movement until she could neither see nor hear him anymore. Then with the grace typical of her people she made her way home as quickly as possible. The news burning on her tongue, waiting to be released as her child's feet carried her back.
"Well-behaved women seldom make history." -Laurel Thatcher Ulrich ;
Taken the Oath of Sangus
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Old Dec 16th, 2017, 05:28 PM
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KarlCullinane KarlCullinane is offline
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Introducing Toris Smithsson.

Everything is on the char sheet.
Things to Remember #1: When attempting to bluff ones way out of an old bar bill, it is not wise to yell Tab?! TAB?!! I have been in this bar before, ye drunken lout!
As the Troll Master Chef was wont to say : There's no Race like Gnome, for the Hollendaise.
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Old Dec 16th, 2017, 05:45 PM
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Landsknechts Landsknechts is offline
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Name: (a minor tribute to Gustavus Adolphus)Gösta Adólfson sheet
Race: Human, Variant
Class: Rogue-3 X's Guide to EverythingScout
Alignment: Neutral
Background: I envision it as part Entertainer/part sage skills: History/PerformanceSkáld
Personality Trait: I'm willing to listen to every side of an argument before I make my own judgment.
Ideal: The goal of a life of study is the betterment of oneself.
Bond:I idolize a hero of the old tales (Though many of the characters in Beowulf exist in Nordic sources, Beowulf himself has never been uncovered in any other source than the Anglo-Saxon poemBeowulf) and measure my deeds against that person's.
Flaw: Most people scream and run when they see a demon. I stop and take notes on its anatomy.
Quirks: Refers to himself in third person.
Always fiddling with his dagger.
Favored Diety: Bragi
Family Hero: Freydis Eriksdottir. Freydis earned her Viking warrior princess mantle by chasing off some hostile Tiefling natives by herself, armed with only a sword, while pregnant. She was also an explorer; Freydis and her husband led the Viking’s fourth expedition to the New Lands. While there, Freydis decided she wanted more than her share, so she lied to her husband, telling him that their partners had attacked her and demanded he kill them. (In fact, she threatened to divorce him if he didn’t.) He did but refused to murder their wives and children, so Freydis took an axe and did the job herself. When word got out about what she’d done, she was shunned, but since she was a chieftain's sister, she got away with murder.

Last edited by Landsknechts; Dec 16th, 2017 at 05:47 PM.
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