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Old 01-22-2019, 07:11 PM
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Rivair Hibbairites

Please place your character biography here. This is a place for a quick reference point should someone forget appearance or personality details.
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Old 02-07-2019, 09:29 PM
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Thomas Miller
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Name: Thomas Miller
Age: 21
Race: Human
Class: Expert(for the skill points)
Traits: Whenever you successfully perform an aid another action, you grant your ally a +4 bonus instead of the normal +2.Helpful, You gain a +2 trait bonus on Swim checks in rivers or streams, and a +2 trait bonus on Survival checks to forage for food in or near a river or stream.River Acumen, You gain a +1 trait bonus on skill checks to use the aid another action.Supportive
Drawback: Oblivious
Fear: Disappointing the people he loves.
Flaw: Passive, prone to whittling away time doing nothing.
Alignment: NG

Appearance: See picture

Personality: Thomas is a kind soul who enjoys helping out wherever he can in Rivair Hibbair. While strong and a hard worker, Thomas isn't very proactive and is prone to daydreaming if not given something to do. As such, outside of the busiest times at the mill, he is usually seen around the village running errands or helping out wherever he is pointed.

When he's not working, one of his favorite spots to be is hanging out with Lillian at the inn. For as long as he could remember, he and Lillian had been best friends. When she lost her ability to hear, he stood by her side. When she tried to pull away, he went out of his way to make her smile. Even though it was difficult for him, he learned to sign well-enough for her.


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Old 02-10-2019, 04:35 PM
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Character Name: Lillian Hartnell

Concept: 19-year-old Female Heart of the Fey alt traitHuman Deaf Divine Herbalist Life Oracle (NG), the inn's laundress/seamstress and nurse
Traits: Spirits in the Stone, Blessed Touch, and Focused Mind
Drawback: Overprotective

Appearance: Blonde and blue-eyed, Lillian is a lovely girl. Her eyes are easily her best feature, the striking blue-grey color secondary to the way they seem to be able to see into people around her. It's more that she has to observe as much as possible to know what's going on because she's deaf, and when she focuses on people to read their lips it can give the impression that she's seeing into them. As she is now considered an adult, she's had to learn appropriate ways to tame her blonde curls into something less wild than the loose hair of a child, and she's generally seen these days with either a braid wrapped around her head, or just a coil of hair pinned up. Her parents are the innkeeper Trayner and his wife Nona, putting her in a rather central location in town, and she tries to dress as nicely as she's able, feeling like she's on display. Ribbons would be desirable, but in their absence she deals in embroidery and ruffles, though small ones. Even her overskirts (used instead of aprons in an industry that could ruin clothing from all angles) tend to have bits of ruffle to accent the drab colors that are least likely to show stains.

Flaw: It's hard to be an outsider in the middle of town, but when you're unique in a way that's not exactly beneficial or pleasant and hard for most others to understand, it's possible. Lillian has turned this into both shameless attempts to help out and fits of anger that no one understands her. More of the former than the latter, but she hides the anger behind a mask of pleasant manners, making it hard for most people to tell, except close friends and family.

Fear: Lillian is afraid of being helpless. While she has learned to work around her lack of hearing, there are some things that she can't do, and sign language only works when there's enough light to see by. It terrifies her that another illness or accident could impair her in some other way and she'd be suddenly useless, helpless, and completely dependent on her family in a way she hasn't had to comprehend yet. This also extends to purpose in life, because when her parents die the inn will pass to her older sister Caitriona and her husband, but Lillian will need something to do or find herself depending on her sister after her parents.


Status: Upside: thumb splint didn't help, so not confined. Downside: didn't help.
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Last edited by Aethera; 02-10-2019 at 07:19 PM.
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Old 02-10-2019, 05:48 PM
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I'm a Helper!
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Jeanie Potter
Lawful Good Tarot Student Spell Specialist Arcanist
28 year old Or HumanElf Potter
RP Note: Not really part of traditional elf society. Drinks and lives much like a human would.

+ 1 Fort
Forlorn | RP Note: One part of her gambling success

1 / day ally can reroll
Agent of Chance | RP Note: Jeanie is hungry learn magic (when it becomes an option)

+4 to Knowledge(Arcana) to research, modify spells.
Arcane Researcher | RP Note: Related to researcher, she's looking for more.

-2 charm effects that promise her power & wealth
Theme Song

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Jeanie is tall, with the long slender legs that many women envy. When working, she usually has an all purpose smock to help keep the worst of the mess down. Her long dark hair is often either pulled into a messy braid or confined under a floppy rancher's hat that as a smudge of clay or two of its own. Jeanie has a particular bouquet of smoke, clay, and bourbon, that many men find intriguing.

Jeanie grew up a relatively normal child. She played, she ran, she babysat, and snuck sugary sweats from Ol' Ma'am Briggs. Since her parents were potters, she learned the trade as well. That was just how things were done in Rivair Hibbair.

She received her stone with due deference, and has safeguarded it as those before her. Throughout it all though, Jeanie had a tendency to ask questions; to want to know the why. As a youngster, she wanted to know why the sky was blue. What made the sunset red and orange. As she got older, she wanted to know more about the town, and the blue stones pendants. She wanted to know many things that no one else cared about. The ambivalence of the entire village toward these questions first gave her pause, and then suppressed them. She was a good girl after all, and that kind of thing just wasn't done in Rivair Hibbair.

As she grew older, Jeanie continued to work in her parents shop, though she never got the knack for the more artistic forms; without which she was relegated to the more mundane tasks of a pottery mill. She scouted for and collected clay from the river, threw them onto a wheel to make basic bowls, cups, and plates for everyday use, and plain storage pots. She also had the boring and repetitive task of making roofing tiles. Jeanie's mind with active to the point of bursting, with no way to release it. Her days were filled with monotonous tasks to support herself and her family. Everyone worked, and worked hard, in the village. That was just how things were in Rivair Hibbair.

Eventually Jeanie found herself spending her evenings at the inn. There were games of chance to challenge her brain and give her problems to solve, there were people to talk to who were more inclined to speculate, mostly due to the alcohol, and generally just a change of scenery, as minor as it may have been. She listened to every tall tale she could while formulating strategies to win whatever game she had stakes on that evening. Jeanie usually won too, though not too much, even if that meant subtly throwing a game. Sometimes that was a game within a game that proved even more interesting that the mundane round of checkers that was being played that evening. Soon even her outlet became routine, smoke, drink, sleep, work, gamble. It may be slightly disreputable for a young lady, but it was a routine; just like everyone else had, because that was just how things were done in Rivair Hibbair.

Jeanie is afraid to be married. She had a serious boyfriend at one point, but a winter rose he presented her with one evening gave her an inexplicable and indelible feeling that should he would be unfaithful should they ever marry. In Rivair Hibbair such feelings were given weight, and the slap she returned his rose with was generally considered to be appropriate. Fortunately as the second born, there is less of a pressure to have children than her elder brother.

Really though, this is just a symptom of a deeper fear. Long term commitment means giving up control to some extent. Jeanie already has this vague sense of lack of control; a lack of choices. She's bored and fears a empty a future. An empty future that has been creeping up on her year after year as she just... coasts.

Jeanie has become mildly rebellious as she's gotten older. Nothing too wild, that just isn't done in Rivair Hibbair, but she's more likely to flaunt certain smaller social conventions. Be a bit more blunt; be a bit more of a smart ass; more likely to curse. She's certainly no role model for the youngsters these days; smoking cigars and gambling late at night. Behavior completely unbecoming of a young lady. Jeanie enjoys the vices as it helps take her mind away from day to day life, and if a glass of bourbon helps quiet her always churning mind so she can sleep at night, who's she hurting?

The Char Run:
Jeanie woke up with a bit of cotton mouth in the morning, but then again, she did most mornings. Nothing a bit of tomato juice wouldn't cure. Rising from the pallet she slept on, Jeanie sleepily climbed down from the loft above her parent's shop picking out the odd piece of straw from her hair. Below on the shop floor, her parents had already started packing up all the necessaries for the day. The char would run this morning, or so the elder had said, so it was time to trundle off to the river. The work was cold, smelly, and hard, but Jeanie didn't really mind. It broke up the monotony of everyday life in the village. Tossing back a small glass of tomato juice and celery, Jeanie is quick to join her parents in their work. Soon the threesome are heading down to the river banks carrying some raw clay, a few water jugs, and a platter of cucumber sandwiches that only her mother seemed to make just right.

When they arrived, Jeanie ignored the breads laid out. Experience had taught her that her stomach would settle, but it would take an hour or two still. Her parents moved to add their food to the offerings, and lay out the clay for the fish bake later. Meanwhile she took the water jugs and filled them from the stream while it was still clear of fish, guts, and stanky villager. The clear clean water would be appreciated by all later that day. Once the water hauling was done, Jeanie made a point to examine the river's current. The elders always seem to know exactly when the Char will run... how do they tell? She wondered as she examined the area. More importantly though, the woman wanted to find a spot where the river was deep enough to get a good catch, but the current was slow enough that she wouldn't feel like she was going to be swept away any second. It took her a few minutes, but the edge of a sandbar just a few feet back from where most of the villagers were gathering proved to be a likely place. Work smarter, not harder

When the call came, Jeanie was in place and ready with her net alongside everyone else. There she labored to pull in fish, dumping them ashore, and returning again to pull in more fish. The routine was interspersed with a few comments and laughter, but most of the villagers were working too hard to converse much. The fun would come afterwards. The one spot of excitement for Jeanie was when little Timmy Jo slipped off the riverbank and was washed away downstream. Fortunately for him Jeanie was a bit back from the rest and had her net handy. Tossing the fishing net out, the woman snagged the young boy, hauling him in like an oversized Char. Pulling the still entrapped young lad up to dangle in front of her, Jeanie remarked sardonically "Well look at that. This'n gotta be the King o' Char here. Prolly make good eatin' if we put you into the clay bake later." Though the child had certainly been given a fright, between natural youthful exuberance and the woman's casual teasing he had calmed enough to give the penulimate come back of young children. He stuck his tongue out at her. Shaking the boy from the net, Jeanie unceremoniously dropped the boy back onto the river bank scolding, "Oh for the love of Sneaky Pete, you should be helping Old Ma Sanders anyway, not playing. Now git yer butt gone young'n. There's firewood that needs collecting, and it ain't going to do it itself." A wink to the kid softened the blow to his bottom as she shooed him back to his duties.

Shaking her head, Jeanie soon returned back to the task at hand, but not before she took a quick nip of bourbon from her hip flask. The river was cold after all, and a bit of somethin' somethin' would help warm the blood.

Last edited by Ion2Atom; 02-10-2019 at 07:46 PM.
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Old 02-10-2019, 07:27 PM
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This Guy!
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Lyall Greengirdle - Skilled and Undisciplined...
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Character Sheet

Name: Lyall Greengirdle | Race: Halfling | Age: 24 | Gender: Male

Class: Rogue (UC) | Job: Thatcher, Basketweaver | Alignment: CG

Traits: RP Note: I took this one since he'd be on roofs a lot as a thatcher, and he's a show off.

Benefit: You gain a +1 bonus on Acrobatics checks, and you take only a negative 2 penalty instead of the normal negative 5 penalty when using the Climb skill to attempt an accelerated climb.
Acrobat, RP Note: This is simpler... for thatch, his family uses river reeds, so he's often in the river cutting them down and gathering them.

Benefit: You gain a +1 trait bonus on damage rolls with a dagger and a +1 trait bonus on Swim checks. Swim is always a class skill for you.
River Rat, RP Note: This one derives from the fact that he's naturally talented, and due to that, he's lazy and undisciplined. So he skips work when he can to laze about.

Benefit: You gain a +1 trait bonus on Stealth checks and a +3 trait bonus on Bluff and Diplomacy checks to avoid punishment by lawful authority.
Successful Shirker and RP Note: This is related to the Shirker trait. He skips work and is always looking for something fun. At this point in his life, this trait is more about fun than money.

Drawback: Whenever you spend a day without gaining reward or treasure (at least 10 or more gold pieces) or spending an hour on entertainment or pleasure, attempt a DC 20 Fortitude save at the end of that day. If you fail, you begin the next day fatigued. This fatigue lasts 4 hours, or until you receive a reward or sufficient entertainment or pleasure.


Description: Lyall Greengirdle cuts a fairly dashing figure. He is tall and sleek, at least for a Halfling, at three foot five inches and weighing a bit under three stone. His limbs are long and his muscles are taut and wiry. Though he wished they weren't, his hands display thick callouses and small scars from his work. As attractive as he might be to some, his clothes don't really do much to enhance his appearance. In a town like the one he lives in, there aren't too many choices. His clothes usually consist of drab brown and gray cottons and linens. He wears sturdy boots, but considering the time he spends wading and swimming in the river, it is a common sight to see his rugged bare feet.

His visage is as attractive enough in a rakish and messy kind of way. His tawny hair is usually uncombed and untamed, falling is almost random waves and curls almost down to his shoulders. He doesn't have much beyond peach fuzz on his lip or chin, but his wavy sideburns continues along his jawline. His face looks fairly delicate with his sleek jaw, high cheekbones and button nose but that look is well tempered by the weathering effect of many days in the sun. Lyall's most striking feature are his hazel eyes, which evoke the image of a piece of amber nestled in fresh grass. They are dynamic and full of life, passion and humor. And physically, it's what usually leaves a real impression.

Personality: Lyall Greengirdle's personality can be divisive at times. He's smart and naturally skilled at a few things - indeed, he's a prodigy that had always taken well to learning tasks and has the quick hands to do them. But because so many things came easy to the dashing halfling, he also grew up lazy and spoiled. He does the work he has to, but only when he can't find a way out of it. And he's always had a glib tongue, developed by making so many excuses. Despite his laziness, he's a lover of life and wants to have fun as much as he can. He values freedom to a great extent as well. Another thing he does is care deeply about his friends and he tries his best to ensure they're happy and having fun as well.

Flaw: Lyall has many flaws, but his greatest one was always his lack of discipline. He takes well to things he likes and coasts in everything else. So while he can still do his chores and be lazy, he lacks the discipline to be the type of halfling he has the potential to be.

Fear: Like his many flaws, Lyall has quite a few secret fears, though he makes a tough face in the presence of most of them. Snakes to some extent and losing his freedom, to name a couple. But his greatest fear is the real cause to his greatest flaw. He fears responsibility and the notion that people he might be in charge of might be hurt by his decisions. He's seen the tremendous pressure on the faces of those in charge, and have seen people get hurt trying to do their chores and he doesn't know if he can bear those things.

Biography: The Greengirdle family has been doing the same job since the founding days of Rivair Hibbair, though it's hard to be a specialist in a small town. Once upon a time, the family thatched all of the roofs of the town. These days, they still thatch the roofs and repair them, but they also weave baskets, rugs and other things out of the river reeds that form the basis of their livelihood and on top of all that, they help the other families where-ever they can. By and large, they're a kind, hardworking and conscientious lot. However, Lyall isn't very much like the rest of his family.

Lyall is the second child of Aurick and Saree Greengirdle. His parents are model members of the community and do as much as they can for everyone. His older brother Auram followed in their footsteps. Lyall inherited their skill and their loyalty, but his mindset diverges from there. The youngest Greengirdle is Lyall's younger sister, Amaree, who combines the duty of their family with the humor and freedom that Lyall displays. Lyall adores Amaree above anyone else in the village, and thinks that she is the best of his family.

Lyall has mixed feelings about his home town. He loves the nature, he loves swimming in the river and he has some good friends. But he also thinks that most people take everything too seriously and that the village is boring most of the time. He works, just like everyone else, but Lyall is a free spirit. He's skilled, one of the reasons he hasn't been strung up. He has spent many hours on the roofs, or cutting down reeds with his daggers. He'll also skip work and slip into the woods, or float down the stream, or hide in a barn and play with the wooden playing cards him and his sister made together. Some of the time he'd even convince his sister, or one of his friends to play with him. Those cards have caused enough lost labor that his parents have tried to take them away on many occasions - they even had the town smith make a lock box for them. But Lyall, with his ingenuity and silent feet, used an old set of Weaving tools look like they'd be pretty easily adapted to picking older types of locks, so I thought that would be a story friendly way to have lock picks. Here is a picture, so Kappy can picture it.
basket-weaving tools to pick the lock and get them back. They've even threatened to burn them, but Amaree always came to his aid when it came to that.

Making the lockbox irrelevant aside, Lyall's family and quite a few elders in the town have other complaints about the young Greengirdle. The biggest thing is that he is a bad influence on the children of the town. Lyall has a quick and ready smile, he's skilled at his work and he often uses his sharp tongue to incite laughter. He's a show-off while doing his thatching duties, climbing up and down the houses without a ladder, and doing flips and fun antics to boot. And despite the hopes that he would grow up when his Aunt Maren passed along the necklace, the reality was that the confidence of adulthood (or perhaps the fear of the responsibilities it brought) seemed to make his immaturity worse.

RP Example: The yearly Char Run was one of the few events that Lyall never even considered skipping. He didn't like the amount of work that came with it, but the food in everyone's bellies and the other things were too important to ignore, even for him. But for the Greengirdle family, the work for the run usually began many days before, as they helped to weave nets and fishing paraphernalia for the cause.

Lyall was happy this year, as he was the last year, because he was able to get himself a better job for the Char Run. He still worked, building low fires and preparing the drying racks, but as he heard the warning shout that signaled the start of the run, he was able to sit out of the river and wait. The young man watched and waited. His real job began after the Char began filtering in.

"Bring them in, let me work on the fish, like girls at a Sunday dance!" Lyall spoke clearly in a friendly tone, though he did receive a quick glare from the elders for what he knew they considered 'bawdy language'. Lyall smiled, dry and clean, but he would get very messy soon enough as he skillfully handled his knife to gut and clean the incoming haul. He hummed a gentle melody as he worked, preferring the less chaotic task that his skilled dagger work had earned him.

Life and hospitals suck at times. Starting to catch up now.

Last edited by JackinIrons; 02-16-2019 at 05:51 PM.
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Old 02-10-2019, 08:11 PM
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Scimmy Scimmy is offline
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Seamus, son of Malcolm
Half-elf - 22 Years - 5'7" - 140lbs
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Seamus has a very deliberate messy appearance. He keeps his hair longer and shaggy, looking like he is in need of a haircut at all times. his face is still slightly rounded from a little lingering baby fat and so he lets a sparse beard grow to try and look older and more mature. He has an easy smile that is well known around town, many an eligible lady have gossiped about his disarming grin and piercing green eyes. He isn't an especially robust man but has a wiry grace typical of the hunters in the village. He owns nice clothing but favors his hunting gear as it is another way to rebel. Regardless of what he wears, he always has a voluminous cloak and gloves either on his hands or tucked into his belt. Though he mostly can be found in secluded spots, when he moves there is a dangerous grace to him, not unlike a predator, that can sometimes make people feel unnerved without really understanding why.
Seamus seems lazy. Not in that he doesn't do anything, but he actively tries to avoid responsibility. This probably stems from the tensions he dealt with growing up, and his need to escape them. So whenever possible he ditches his responsibilities and makes up excuses. Lately, this has served another purpose, as he has had the need to hide from other eyes lest they discover his animalistic nature.
Seamus is afraid of opening up to people. He's had his failings as a son thrown in his face his whole life and because of that he usually presents an uncaring front to everyone. He also fears his nighttime wanderings being discovered, thinking that people wouldn't understand the changes he has been going through. He is aggressively defensive of people trying to look under his hood or suggesting he remove his gloves and that has only served to make it harder to relate to people.
Seamus, son of Malcolm is the product of an illicit affair between his human father and an elf woman. In such a small town, things like this are almost impossible to keep quiet, especially when your second child appeared after your wife wasn't pregnant and clearly has elven blood. Despite this, he was raised as Malcolm's second son. As one might expect, his "mother" was not happy about the entire arrangement and not only made Malcolm suffer but took every opportunity to remind Seamus that he wasn't her son. One might think that this would drive Malcolm and Seamus to be close over their mutual suffering, but instead it merely made Malcolm resent his son for having driven the rift between him and his wife. Seamus grew up being reminded again and again of his impure parentage either in hateful comments from his mother, indirect curses from his father, or sly comments from the less...proper...townsfolk. Because of that he harbors an intense resentment of elves, who would do this to him and then send him away.

But despite it all, he truly just wants to be part of a family. He resents his older brother for having the life and love he wishes he could have but knows it isn't his fault and still is there to help him whenever he asks. His assumed nonchalance and laziness are all an affectation, but if either of his parents ask him to do something, Seamus is once more like a little boy, doing it to his best and hoping, praying that this time they will stop blaming him for being born and just let him be part of the family. But alas, all he ever really gets is a sniff of disdain or muttered comment about the poor quality. Among the rest of the town, he generally gets either dismissed for his feigned indifference and general laziness or the pseudo-sympathy.

Growing up wasn't the easiest as his mixed heritage was evident and isolated him from most as the kids came with attitudes from their parents and he looked different. Kids can be cruel but at least they were honest, it was the adults that were the worst growing up, unable to see him as anything other than a walking talking symbol of unfaithfulness he was often alone, and Seamus found he liked it that way. When people left you alone you could do what you wanted and explore where others might not go. He made up stories where he was the hero and fought off foul beasts conjured from his imagination and also watched people. He got good at sneaking around and was able to teach himself to understand the elven language, though he hasn't really had a chance to practice speaking it. And he learned woodcraft by following other fathers with their sons. He practiced all the time, even taking his father's bow a few times and shooting at some animals. His first successful shot was like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day, he had seen this play out with other kids so many times that he turned to show his father...before remembering he wasn't there. That was when he first felt the calling.

Upon reflection, it was something that had been building within him for a while, but in that moment it was all just so unfair. Bleeding rabbit in hand he threw back his head and left forth a howl unlike anything you would expect from the throat of a man. More bestial than human, Seamus felt his skin ripple and his body twist in that moment and when the howl ran out he sensed a whole new world before him. He couldn't believe the things he could smell or how vibrant they were. Even the rotting squirrle which has put him off earlier was a new and interesting smell for him to take in. So Seamus did what felt natural and ran, he ran with a surety and grace he hadn't felt before and moved with a precision that baffled him. He came upon the river, where in a few months they would have the run and stooped to slake his thirst, only to stumble back in horror. His ears were more sharply pointed and his skin had darkened, his nose and mouth protruded almost like a snout and his face was covered in fur. Looking at his hands and arms they too were covered in fur and his fingers bore the hints of claws. He closed his eyes and willed it away, he couldn't become even more of a freak, so he silently begged for whatever it was to have just been a dream. And when he looked again it was gone. But it wouldn't stay gone, which is why he took to wearing the long cloak and carrying the gloves, for those moments when it came upon him suddenly.
Role Play Example:
The day was a beautiful one. Thus sun gleamed through the trees and Seamus was perched in his favorite tree loving the warmth and comfort it gave him. He liked to imagine himself as a tree sometimes, rooted in place, and drinking in the light from the sky and the water from the ground. The only thing that would make it better was if the big catch wasn't happening just a bit away at the river. Seamus was supposed to be there but he was delaying joining everyone. He had a great reason for not going at first, pretty sure people would freak out if an animal man showed up to help pull in nets. So Seamus had found a calm spot to still himself and let the change slide off him. It's coming more often now, he mused, it responds readily to high pressure or tension. I have to get it under control...or leave? The last thought was barely a whisper in his mind. It was unthinkable, no one left, but how many others were so despised in their own homes? How many others were afflicted with such a curse? Seamus sighed and hung his head. I can't put it off much longer. I was lucky to be so close to begin with, gave me more time. He breathed in and that thing in his stirred slightly, the scents becoming...brighter? It was hard to describe really because at the same time they became more intense he was able to understand them better. He could smell the sweat just starting, mixing with the scent of fish and innards. His mouth watered a little at the scent of the fresh meat and his body began to tingle with the change.

I swear that boy is going to get beat within an inch of his life when I find him. I don't care how old he is, how dare he embarrass me like this. SEAAAAAAMUUUUUUUUUUS!!! Seamus sighed again and quickly descended the tree. Pulling his hood up and slinging his bow across his back, Seamus worked his way quietly around his father and toward where the net pullers would be. The net pullers worked in rotating shifts so if he timed it just right he could slip in without being noticed right away. He waited for the right moment and then flowed into a spot pulling to the same rhythm as everyone else. He saw the person next to him do a double take, but their focus was concentrated on the nets. It was boring work, but relatively easy, and because of the water and rope, not many people commented on his cloak and gloves. There were a few people he was friendly with that caught his eye and waved, but for the most part, he kept to himself. Seamus did smile to himself when his father came back enraged and on the brink of losing control and saw his son there working. He even turned and gave him a wave and a smile. It was cruel, but watching his father storm off to his area was worth it. He turned back to pulling the nets and his smile vanished. Nothing was ever good enough for his family, and it never would be. He was a mistake and his "mother" hated him for being born and his father hated him for being a constant reminder of his weakness. Maybe it would be for the best....
-Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination.
-I will protect those who cannot protect themselves.
-I will protect even those I hate, so long as it is right.

Last edited by Scimmy; 02-11-2019 at 06:53 PM.
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Old 02-12-2019, 09:26 AM
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Balazar Balazar is offline
Young Adult Dragon
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But Don't Mess With The HorsesGaridan Arasme
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Race: Human
Class: Ranger
Alignment: Neutral Good
Age: 27

Character Concept: Hunter on Horseback
Intended Role: Archer / Mounted Fighter

Traits: Born to the saddle, Thoroughbred, Affable
Drawback: Naive
Fear: Spiders and other things with far too many legs

Appearance: Despite Garidan's height, he is never imposing. His thin frame, when combined with an often relaxed posture and easy smile, would never suggest anything other than an unassuming nature. His simple earthen-hued garb along with his similarly brown hair and beard help to hide the layers of gritty dirt that he frequently finds himself covered in as a result of long hours on the farm or equally long hours roaming through the nearby woods.
Personality: Garidan is always quick to see the best in everyone. While some may claim that this makes him come off as rather naive, or even simple, he just can't help but see the best in even terrible situations. Garidan has a great love for nature, sometimes laying back on the side of a creek on a lazy summer afternoon idly fishing, sometimes exploring the bits of forested land nearby Rivair Hibbair and occasionally catching a rabbit or even a deer to bring home. Most of all, Garidan loves horses. The Arasme family had been breeding and raising horses longer than anyone could remember, and Garidan grew up riding them, training them, and working the fields of the family farm alongside them.
The Char Run: When Garidan heard the call that the Char run was starting his face broke into an oft-worn smile. His sister Katlyn was nearly bouncing with excitement, while his older brother Garrett was giving her some lecture about patience.

"Don't be too patient though!" Garidan called over to the two as he checked the straps holding the large baskets to Merry-bell's sides, she stomped and snorted excitedly, "Or you'll be as old as Garrett before anything exciting happens!" Garidan's smile toward his older brother was met with a roll of the eyes as Katlyn giggled.

Garidan led Merry-bell over to where the other two were waiting at the side of the river. Normally this would be a bit too much excitement for a young horse like her but Garidan had always had a way with horses. His older brother was certainly the better farmer, already taking over for their parents, with a real knack for breeding and managing horses. Garidan knew he would never be as good at the family business as his sibling because he couldn't help but see horses the same way he saw people, with full personalities, thoughts and feelings. In many ways he felt more kin to Merry-bell than to his real siblings who were now tensely waiting as the char run approached their location.

Garidan pulled his long fishing knife out of Merry-bell's saddlebag, as one of the more experienced fishermen he knew he'd likely be relegated to gutting the fish and putting them out to dry before his equine companion could carry them back to be stored away. He took up a position between his sister and brother, spotting his parents further up the stream keeping an eye on some of the younger children, as Merry-bell gently nuzzled the back of his hand.

Life was good.


Last edited by Balazar; 02-13-2019 at 11:42 AM.
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