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  #16  
Old 11-02-2016, 11:15 AM
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Last edited by hvg3akaek; 06-29-2017 at 11:59 PM.
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  #17  
Old 10-10-2017, 02:45 PM
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Name:Ismark Indirovich
Race: Human
Class: Ranger

Description: Many people who live in the mists of Barvovia look much older than they actually are. Ismark is no exception. While his face is unlined and retains some youthfulness, his hazel eyes are deep set within dark sockets. His hair, that hangs to his shoulders has white hair shooting through the dark black at the temples. His beard, once shaved away each morning, now stands in rough stubble on his cheeks and chin, wirey white hairs mixed with the others. His clothing, while simple and designed for travels through the woods,is well made and his fine boots give him away as a man who comes from means. His hide armor is old but well cared for. The two swords that he straps to his back, are of very fine work, heirlooms of his house.

Personality: Ismark thinks he can remember a happy childhood. One where his mother loved him, his father was a good strong man who took care of the town that he served as Burgermeister, and a sweet adopted sister. He hopes these memories are true and not fantasies he has built for himself. Because the reality now is far from happy.

Ismark cares deeply for his town. He has always sought to protect it, choosing to travel with and learn from the men of the woods who protected the villiage from the wilderness. It is his great sorrow and shame that the mists of Strahd has covered his town, harming and twisting his people.

Backstory: Ismark has always felt the need to serve his home. His father chose politics but Ismark felt the need to have a more tangible effect. He chose to take to the woods with his uncle, learning woodcraft and how to battle. Together they protected the town from the things that have always lurked in the woods.

He has always cared for and loved his adopted sister, but something terrible has been happening with her.

His uncle died from a wolf attack shortly after Stahd’s mists covered the valley, and the rest of the woodsmen have been killed, lost or have just given up. Ismark feel as if he alone stands between the monsters in the mist and his home.
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  #18  
Old 10-12-2017, 01:45 AM
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Last edited by hvg3akaek; 10-16-2018 at 12:24 AM.
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  #19  
Old 01-23-2018, 07:11 PM
Roekahs Roekahs is online now
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Name: Garvyn Jerenar
Race: Human
Class: Druid (Primal Guardian)

Description: Garvyn’s hair is long and dark and appears largely unkempt. Beneath the dark locks is a boyish face which remains without a hint of facial hair. Garvyn is a burly young man with a broad chest and thick legs. He wears furs crudely sewn together at (apparently) useful locations to keep them confined to his body.

At first glance he appears quite formidable, but one prominent feature lends some doubt to that initial assessment. Garvyn’s right arm is less defined than the left and seems to hang uselessly at his side. The arm is not completely useless, however, as he holds a strangely writhing implement in its grasp.

Personality: Garvyn is as wild as the forest where he calls home. While he is generally quiet and reserved, there are times that his emotions will erupt – often in odd moments – and his convictions will be strongly voiced. Garvyn tends toward peace, but does have a violent temper. Often, there are obvious signs of his displeasure before the eruption, like thunder warning of the approaching storm.

Garvyn rarely shows his emotions while in human form, preferring to transform into an animal he has observed exhibiting the emotion. Even when he does show an emotion in human form, it is often disjointed and confusing since the vast majority of his time has been spent around animals rather than people. Perhaps because of this lack of connection, Garvyn is fiercely loyal to anyone he deems a friend.

Backstory: Garvyn’s shoulder got stuck during birth and when it broke free the damage was irreversible. He was always burly, but his decrepit arm left him vulnerable physically as well as emotionally. The other children picked on him constantly and he received little sympathy from adults who viewed him as a pox on the tribe. His parents still loved him, but only in secret.

Over time, Garvyn began to predict where the blows were coming. He didn’t have the strength or quickness to get out of the way, but he could adjust his body to take the blows in less painful ways. One day when he was just eight years old, the other kids cornered him. He had always taken the blows without even crying out, but this day was different. The children who witnessed the events claimed that a bear appeared where Garvyn had been and attacked the largest boy beating him. While the stories were largely taken as an exaggeration by the adults, the strange scratches on the boy made a few wonder. When a similar event happened just a week later, the adults made a decision: Garvyn would be exiled from the tribe.

So, at just eight years old, Garvyn was chased from the village and left to fend for himself in the wild forest. His survival instinct was strong and the magic dwelling in him was even stronger. Left to fend for himself, Garvyn found he was stronger than even he imagined, not in body but in mind and spirit. His fury over his exile lasted for a few years until he really found his way with the nature magic raging inside. After that, Garvyn was one with his surroundings and roamed the forest freely, able to disappear and appear whenever he wished.

A Unique Find: When Garvyn was first chased to the wild, he was angry and would lose his temper and become destructive quite often. While some of the occasions were justified, Garvyn would feel awful afterwards. After one especially severe outburst directed at no one in particular, he slaughtered an entire family of weasels, Garvyn ran into the forest weeping. He fell to his knees in a clearing sobbing at the unnecessary destruction he had wrought. As his knees hit the ground, the right one fell on a gnarled piece of wood causing it to jut up from the foliage. His tears fell near it and the dense foliage of the forest floor seemed to reach out and curl around the gnarled wood. Amazed, Garvyn watched momentarily before intervening. He gently plied one of the straining vines from the dirt and wound it about the wood. Much to his amazement, the vine stayed in place and pulsed with a strange energy. Without knowing why, Garvyn was compelled to return to the site of the weasels’ destruction. Filled with shame, he turned to leave but as he did a gentle rain began to fall despite the dense canopy above. Garvyn heard a rustling behind him and turned to find a whimpering pup clinging to life. The small creature looked to him for help. Without knowing what to do, Garvyn stood there with the stick in hand as the rain continued to fall. It took some reflection before he realized that the rain only fell in the clearing that day. Every time Garvyn has lost his temper after that day, he has found new growth in the forest and added it to the gnarled wood. The plants on the wood – of which there are many now – all flourish despite a bizarre fluctuation: each plant on the totem slowly dies beginning at one end of their length only to rejuvenate later, creating a strange mixture of life and death on the gnarled wood.
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DM: The Family Business (5E)
Playing: Garvyn, Druid of the Moon | Suzi MacMillan, super-powered!
a whole bunch of meatsacks | Randall Smith, mending fences

Last edited by Roekahs; 11-29-2018 at 10:17 AM.
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  #20  
Old 06-07-2018, 12:42 AM
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Ireena Kolyana

Ireena is a striking young woman with auburn hair. Although she appears mild, she has a strong will. She doesn't remember her early past, nor where she came from before being found alone in the woods.

She hails from the small village of Barovia, where her adoptive father was the burgomaster...until last week. He died, and her and her adoptive brother, Ismark, had to see to his funeral arrangements.

All her known life, others have been looking after her, as if she were fragile, a thing easily broken. Thus, Ireena has focused on honing her skills - strengthening herself not just to be able to defend her own person, but those around her too. But even now, her brother wants to see her to safety.

As the strangers passed through the village, Ismark asked for their aid. They were to travel to Vallaki, to seek safety within the town's walls...but Strahd's forces were at work even then, so they had to keep on moving. Of course, she isn't looking for safety - she's looking for a fight.


<human fighter (Battle Master)>
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Currently Playing: Scorcherer Ithyromelle, Marcan, and Ireena.
Allan, Ethronon, Othatheth, and Jones, not so much.

Last edited by hvg3akaek; 11-02-2018 at 07:16 PM.
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  #21  
Old 10-30-2018, 07:46 AM
Berith Berith is offline
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Application - Nessima
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Name: Nessima Khidell
Race: Human (variant)
Class: Bard 2 / Warlock 2 (Celestial)
Patron: a Lillend named Thireahl, called "Iri"
Alignment: Chaotic Good

 


Overview: She's much more of a storyteller and orator than a musician/singer/dancer. She uses stories and speeches to entertain, encourage freedom and autonomy, and try to lead others to lead good lives. She prefers to use stories and allegories rather than overt political rhetoric. She's made her peace with just authority, at least somewhat, but hates tyranny and oppression.

Goals: The world is full of stories! So many are lost or forgotten, and Nessima is driven to rediscover them. So many are happening as we speak, and Nessima is driven to chronicle them. The great and the humble both have something to teach us - this is something she knows very deeply. Stories uplift, stories transport, stories change the world. That's why those who would oppress others often seek to hide, change, or destroy stories that give hope and light to their victims. Quietly and calmly, Nessima will work to undermine those who hold power unjustly, who use it to crush others.

History: Nessima Khidell was one of the first babies born in the restored Halruaa, growing up in a place that was simultaneously ancient and brand new. The daughter of a minor cleric of Mystra and an archivist in the great Library of Mount Talath, her earliest memories are deeply embedded with the smell of old parchment and her father's musical laughter as he and her mother discussed philosophy and history. Magic was as common for her as snowfall in the northern reaches, and she grew up loved, indulged, and encouraged. She was enrolled as an Acolyte of Mystra at an early age, and while Mystra's yoke is gentlest of all, still Nessima chafed.

In her spare moments and whenever she could conveniently absent herself from her duties, she'd be found in the great library, immersed in legends of old. By the age of seven, she could recite long passages of lyric poetry by rote, and by ten she would regularly enthrall hordes of young children with her stories and myths.

"She's not called to serve," her father often remarked to her mother. "And she'll tire of these dusty stacks soon enough," her mother observed in kind. Her inclinations clear by now, Nessima was allowed to leave Mystra's service and set to study with those who understood the subtle magics that connected people - the magics of mind, voice, and motion; story, song, and dance. From the beginning, she excelled.

There are few bards who lack wanderlust, and her parents understood her better than she did herself. As her early training drew to a close, Nessima found herself drawn to chronicle the stories of others - great and small. So many deeds go unnoticed every minute. So much good forgotten, so much evil ignored. To be out in the world, living amongst those who strove and struggled, sharing their lives and stories...this became her driving passion.

After a time of wandering, Nessima found herself in a tidy little house in the village of Juniper's Bend. It's the perfect home base - ignored by the world around it, self-sufficient, and close to Baldur's Gate, one of Faerun's preeminent cities. Here, she can write and reflect, yet still have access to all that the world has to offer.

Meeting her Patron: Iri revealed herself to Nessima late one night, when Nessi was hard at work translating some fragments of heroic poetry she'd found in a bazaar in Waterdeep on one of her travels - a poem written in an old Mulhorandi dialect. "You humans," Iri had said, "It's so hard for you to understand anything." She flew over to Nessima and rested a hand on her shoulder. The ancient words shimmered before her eyes and resolved themselves into clear writing in the common tongue. "I could help you, you know," the strange creature said.
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Last edited by Berith; 10-30-2018 at 10:39 AM.
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  #22  
Old 10-30-2018, 08:39 AM
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Name: (Lady) Malovinda Rostek Strugfalten von Brum; just call her Mal
Race: Aasimar
Class: Ranger (Beast Master)
Alignment: CG
Appearance: Mal is tall and austere looking. She is lithe and fit from long treks through the woods. She has a long, silky blond hair and blue eyes that are almost purple. Her facial features are quite aristocratic, with high cheekbones, straight nose and rich lips.

Mal wears a dark hooded cloak almost all of the times lest she be recognized.

Personality: Mal is usually quite and subdued. Having lived for as long as she had with her duplicitous family, she prefers to speak with her actions and to judge people and creatures by their actions. She would sooner speak with woodland creatures than most people. However, if you have managed to prove your worth to her and Mo, her faithful companion, she will be as kind to you as she is to her beloved forest creatures.

Personality Trait: I feel tremendous empathy for all who suffer.

Ideal: Free Thinking. Inquiry and curiosity are the pillars of progress. (Chaotic)

Bond: I entered seclusion to escape from my parents' crazy scheme to masquerade me as my dead brother and marry me off to a rich heiress. I must keep on the move lest their spies find me and drag me back to pay one way or another for ruining their plans and reputation. Especially their reputation!



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

Background: Hermit

 



 
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Last edited by ihinka; 10-31-2018 at 03:24 AM.
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  #23  
Old 10-30-2018, 10:42 AM
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Knight Commander Jaxon Raze
Class- Paladin (Conquest)
Race- Half-Elf
Background- Soldier
Alignment- Lawful: he brings the law, he is the law.
Role- Control, Face, Tank

History- In the lawless world of Enseya, the six Pyrian City States are the lone bastions or Order in a land of chaos. Standing watch over the States is the Order of the Burning Blade, knights devoted to keeping the forces of chaos at bay. Each City State is governed by a Knight Regent whose authority is unquestioned, military states where adherence to the law is absolute. Within the walls of each city teems a massive population, kept in line by the Knights Justicar. Outside the walls, where the staggering quantities of food to feed the City States are produced, their hold on order is more tenuous, a line held only by the Knights Exemlpar. Knight Commander Jaxon Raze of the City of Starhold is one such Knight, famous for his brutal campaigns against the Smuggler King, the Opium Cartels, and the Reavers of Bloodgorge Pass.

Jaxon's defeat of Sturm the Howler, leader of the Bloodgorge Reavers, marked Jaxon's Thirty-Second victory in battle in command of his legion. This feat earned him the rare privilege of becoming a Knight Superator, the right to ride his legion into the wasteland and found a new City State. Few ever earned this right, and fewer still claimed it. To this date only seventeen Superators have ever successfully carved themselves a new State from the chaotic waste of Enseya, and of those seventeen City States only the six remain. It's a daunting challenge, one that Jaxon was still pondering on his return journey to Starhold when an unnatural mist halted his legion's progress. Jaxon called out to his men, but heard nothing in response. His men were gone... or somehow, he was gone. Is this an attack? A foul curse by one of the Howler's witches? Jaxon drew his blade, prepared to face his foe.

Personality- Jaxon is utterly devoted to the concept of Order, specifically the tenants of the Order of the Burning Blade from his homeworld of Enseya. He is a believer in fate, a logical consequence of a universe with inherent order, and is likely to interpret his transposition to this domain as a sign that he's to bring it to Order. If he accepts this mission, as a Knight Superator he becomes unbound by many of his order's stricter guidelines of conduct, allowing him to make temporary alliances with chaotic factions or individuals to turn chaos against itself, to form it into an ordered state. He was raised in a relative metropolis, and spent much of his adult life making war in rural regions, and as such is anxious in wide open spaces, and distrusts those who consort overmuch with the natural world. He lives on a strict ritual: when and what he eats, when he sleeps, when he rises and the rest of day is to meet an exacting schedule. He gets cranky if something throws his day off.

Appearance- Pure-Blooded Elves and Humans no longer exist on Enseya; the two peoples have blended together entirely. Everyone is dome degree of admixture between Elf and Human, and Jaxon is no exception, though he shows more of his human ancestry than elven. He wears a full beard, grey with age, face scarred in a few places from a lifetime of combat. His armor is standard-issue chainmail for a Knight Exemplar; he hadn't been wearing his platemail when he was taken by the fog. The chainmail is a dull grey, steel with a mundane weatherproof coating. Over his mail is a tabbard, gold on black, depicting a firey sword, the sigil of his order. His platemail, should he retrieve it or commission a new set, is black and gold, designed to be imposing, commanding attention and respect.

Minor Magic Item- Sigil of the Burning Blade. This emblem is worn as a broach, amulet, or belt buckle. While worn by a Knight of the Burning Blade, anyone who can see the emblem knows that knight's name and rank, and the wearer cannot lie about his identity. Anyone who can see the emblem is intuitively aware of this effect.

Last edited by Phil; 10-30-2018 at 12:06 PM.
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  #24  
Old 10-30-2018, 10:45 AM
Dorack Dorack is offline
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Name: Alaria the Swift
Concept: Charming swashbuckler with a few magic tricks
Race: Half-elf
Class: Rogue 3 (Swashbuckler) / Wizard 1 (going for Warrior Battlemaster next)
Background: Charlatan
Alignment: Neutral
Ideal: I have survived till this day and will continue to do so.
Flaw: I can’t fully trust anyone.
Bond: I answer to no one but myself

Backstory

Through the rough and dark underbelly of Waterdeep, Alaria came to be. Born and raised in the streets as one of the countless urchins in the metropolis, the girl learnt soon enough about her mixed heritage, yet had no clue about her family. Alaria navigated with shrewdness and luck the dark corners of the City of Splendors, whose glittering marvels seemed like a universe apart for the young half-elf.

The girl grew pretty, which made her target for pimps and worse, until one of them showed up floating by the docks with a knife in his eye. From that day on, Alaria was given wide berth. She soon joined a petty gang lead by a low life Half-elf like her called Maernis. He was coarse and mean, but he taught Alaria the tricks of the trade and to handle her blades properly. After a few years, Maernis crossed the wrong person and showed up hanging from the walls; soon the urchins disbanded and parted ways.

Alaria navigated the underworld of Waterdeep and the unsavory but fascinating sights of Skullport, selling her services as blade for hire and petty thief, always staying clear of the main guilds battling for dominance of the shadows. Wit and steel, and luck, allowed her to stay a step ahead the many dangers she courted.

Paying close attention to the nobles and rich merchants, she picked up the proper way to address people and the subtlety of good manners. After investing in a few fancy clothes, Alaria found herself being hired by richer and richer patrons. The young girl was graceful as was skilled in her deadly trade and made better company than most of the thugs that offered such services. Alaria delighted herself in those borrowed moments of glamour and pleasure, only to return to her squatted refuge, a cold, damp, filthy attic of an old warehouse. She hid her bitterness, promising herself she would carve a way out of her misery through charm and steel and whatever else was necessary.

In a true twist of destiny, Alaria came into service of an old wizard called Astunge that came to live in Waterdeep. She was his guide and bodyguard thru the city, showed him the way around the shops, which merchants to trust or not and even ran some small errands like looking for hard to find or rather illegal components down by Skullport. As part of her payment, Alaria moved into the Wizard’s Manor. Alaria finally had a room for herself, and it was dry, warm, and well lit. It was the most amazing place in the world.

Alaria found the magic of his patron quite interesting, and even though she thought the idea of a scholarly life boring to the death, she persuaded the mage to teach her a few tricks that would help Alaria in her night-time errands and endeavors. After some time, Astunge declared he had to make a short journey to the Mechanus plane, and bid Alaria to take care of the Manor.

Three years have passed, and the wizard has yet to return. In the meantime, Alaria returned to her old roguish ways, gaining gold, friends and enemies and an open tab at the Yawning Portal. She continued to train her steel and charm, the only things that kept her past miseries at bay.

<Player’s note: I’m leaving the last part of the backstory as open as possible; perhaps a magical incident with one of Astunge’s portals was what pulled Alaria to the Demiplane of Dread; if you like that idea I can elaborate>


 




Last edited by Dorack; 10-30-2018 at 11:55 PM.
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  #25  
Old 10-30-2018, 11:48 AM
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Name: Wrenton "Wren" d'Orion
Race: Human Variant (War Caster)
Class: Wizard 3 (War)/ Fighter 1
Background: Soldier
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Alignment: Lawful Good
Magical Item: Wand of the War-Mage, Uncommon

 

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  #26  
Old 10-31-2018, 08:40 AM
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Zinrokh Zinrokh is offline
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Sulla Einarii
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Corvus (familiar)

Name:Sulla Einarii
Race: Human (variant)
Home Plane: Ravenloft (past 50 years)
Class: Wizard, School of Divination

Alignment: Machiavellian Lawful Neutral with touch of Nietzsche
Background: Sage/Hermit
Ideal: Power. Knowledge is the path to power and immortality.
Bond: My life's work is a series of tomes related to a specific field of lore; undeath.
Flaw: Most people scream and run when they see a demon. I stop and take notes on its anatomy.

Description:

Sulla is a human male of advancing years with full grey beard and cold violet eyes. His face is often stern and dour. He favours ostentatious clothing, finely embroidered silks and embossed leathers, yet he disdains jewellery and gaudiness of all forms. His wardrobe is of beautiful craftsmanship; regal yet functional and befitting his place within noble circles. His avian familiar often sits upon his shoulder.

 



Last edited by Zinrokh; 12-09-2018 at 07:51 AM.
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  #27  
Old 10-31-2018, 09:19 PM
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Ysolde Ysolde is offline
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Name: Mikayla Smith

Race: Human

Class: Artificer

Description: Standard beauty seems to have missed this average height woman with little in the way of curves. Her face is a deep tan and her brown hair is a bit sooty in addition to being colored by the sun. She wears a leather outfit that might clearly put her at a forge if one were nearby and she smells much the same. She holds a wooden staff in hand with an artistically rendered cap on it's top showing an anvil.

Background: Mikayla is a smith and an alchemist as well. Give her a forge and some time and she will make you armor or weapons, give her chemical components and she'll brew you a potion. Whatever it is that might be needed Mikayla is there to either craft it on the spot or figure out where it can be crafted. She comes from a family of smiths so old that their surname is Smith. Unfortunately she's the daughter the girl who wouldn't bake bread and who wasn't interested in dolls or toys. She watched her father and begged and pleaded for his attention and to learn the trade. When she didn't get it she experimented on her own time with etching and acids trying to show her worth and ending up with a rather gruesome acid burn on her back.

She ended up learning everything that her father could teach and more. She's a prodigy in her home town and has only decided to go out into the world because her brother will inherit the business. She may be a smith and she may have the skills, but without a shop full of tools she won't get anywhere. That is what puts her on the road and she is determined to make her fortune. Her only fear is disappointing her father. Her biggest flaw is her ego the stubborn belief that she can build it, that she can make it, that her artistic abilities are the best. She was a big fish in a small pond and the world might just be waiting to show her up.

Last edited by Ysolde; 11-03-2018 at 05:48 PM.
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