Name:Durenal "Ren" Coppervein Race: Hill Dwarf Gender: Male Alignment: Chaotic Good Class: Bard (Valor)
Description: Dirty Blonde hair is slicked back away from his chubby face; though it is unclear where on the ship he continues to find the fat to keep it so pristine. Ren would call himself "portly" but that is generous. He wears a fine set of clothing, obviously custom made to fit his specific body dimensions. By all appearances, he portrays the air of a confident, well to do merchant trader.
Personality: Jovial, and constantly smiling, Ren's dear mother would call him "a happy-go-lucky schmuck." Constantly out looking for fun ways to spend his coin, even when it's not currently in his possession, he enjoys fine wine, fine clothing, fine music; and while he can't always guarantee the first two, he is constantly ready to provide the party.
-X-X-X-X-
Charlatan
Trait #1
Sarcasm and Insults are my weapons of choice....that and a nice rapier.
Trait #2
I LOVE a good insult, even if it's directed at me...
Ideal
The stories, songs, and legends, of the past must never be forgotten.
Bond
I sold my soul for my music, I hope my great deeds can win it back.
Flaw
I'm always in debt. I spend coin on desires faster than I can bring it in.
Background: A Tale in Three Parts
Ren was a happy child, but spent most of his time alone. While he had food in his belly, a safe place for his head, and loving parents, they were not wealthy. The things they could provide were not lavish, and Ren always secretly dreamed of more. A dream that he felt would always be unrealized, as he never had any aptitude for things that traditionally made money. He was not strong, struggling to lift the heavy mauls and armors of the Military Caste. And he was not overly smart, making repeated mistakes when given to the merchants to train in coinage and trade. No, neither of these things seemed to catch the young Dwarf's attention, making his parents worried for the future of their only son.
It seemed that Ren was destined for mediocrity; not the worst of fates, but not one that lead to the dreams of riches and renown that the young boy had hoped for. The only thing that seemed to bring him from his melancholy was listening to his mother and father sing. It seemed to Ren that they would sing on their way to work, sing on their way home, sing while preparing the meals, even sing him to sleep, their voices bringing melody and variation to a rigid and often disappointing day. There was no career in singing or dance though, no reason to practice, so Ren focused harder on the Merchant Guilds. Reasoning it was better to be near the wealth he so wanted, rather than to be faced with the martial dangers and being unprepared to fight with the Dwarven Defense Forces.
Living as an over-aged Apprentice was embarrassing, but it gave Ren the opportunity to travel to other cities, work, and receive his modest wages. It allowed him to see the exotic fashions, and wares of distant lands. And it allowed him the opportunity to practice banter with the peoples on the roads. He quickly learned the excitement of exchanging barbs, learning insults and remarks from those he traveled with to use in his future encounters. Ren was counselled this was not behavior expected from a respected Dwarven Merchant, but he simply couldn't help himself. Eventually, his age, his troublesome behavior, and his lackadaisical performance of duties, caused him to be sent away from the Guild. Forcing him to live as an outcast and eke out a living on his own terms, whatever those might end up being.
Ren had never noticed this particularly dirty alley, tucked away in Fartown's poor district before. Even though he had visited the city many times over the years, it was new to his eyes. There was something odd about it, and yet, he was called to it, as if something was drawing him deep into it's depths. At the end of the stonework hallway, Ren spied a tent, almost haphazardly strung up, with a sign out front advertising "All trades accepted". As Ren pushed his way inside the tent, past carpets hung in the doorway, and trinkets littering the entrance, he stopped as the sheer size of the tent caused him to gape in awe. The smell of rough burning incense overpowered the young dwarf's senses, and a tingling sensation spread from his head all through his body, even reaching the bottoms of his feet.
An ageless Teifling sat behind a round wooden table, a crystal ball placed perfectly in it's center. Not looking up from the ball, she spoke to him in a tone that suggested a familiarity. "A Dwarf? There are not many of them that find their way to me...what, I wonder is it you truly desire? And more importantly, what do you have to offer in exchange for it?" Handing the dwarf a small jeweled box, she warned him with a twinkle in her eyes "I am known as Fate, and I offer you a pathway to your deepest desires, but by accepting it, you will be forgoing something of Equal Value, even as it's worth is far from your mind. Do you accept these terms?"
Shutting his mouth with an audible click, Ren greedily took the box in to his arms, nodding his assent to the terms of the deal. Opening the box revealed a strange wooden contraption, one that grew in size as he pulled it from it's encasement. When the strange wooden object had grown to its full size, the Teifling let out an evil chuckle, even as Ren groaned in sharp agony. A black cloud began pulling itself from his chest, flowing from him and filling the jeweled box. "Equal Value, my dear. Your heart's desires for your soul. If you want to rest with your ancestors when you are free from this mortal coil, you must find something of Equal Value to trade for it back."
A flash, and the tent was gone Leaving Ren standing alone, and again in Fartown's poor district; but this time the sun was low in the sky, and the strange alleyway that had beckoned him just moments before, was missing. What was that? did I really lose my soul for this?' He looked down at the mysterious wooden object with consternation 'And if I actually did...how will I find my way back to her, to retrieve it?'
Ren was sitting miserably in The White Gull Tavern; a dimly lit watering hole off of Porta's docks. It had been weeks since his trade with Fate, and yet he still wasn't sure what exactly he had bartered for. He pulled the strange looking contraption out in front of him, and for what seemed like the thousandth time, gazed along it's long slender neck, its swelling bellows, and the small crank on the bottom. When he has turned it earlier, the machine had groaned, but it did not seem to do much else. 'How is this supposed to give me my heart's desire, I don't even know what THIS is?' he thought to himself. Again he spun the handle, and again a groan erupted from within the frame, causing a few strange looks from those patronizing the bar. "My My quite the prize you have there, but I doubt you even know what it is you posses." The voice was unexpected, and broke through the dwarf's wonderment. Ren looked up with a start, to see a filthy looking human carefully examining the instrument in his hands; and the feeling sent shivers down the young dwarf's spine. "I could buy it from you, say 100 sovereigns? It's best if that is handled by someone who knows how to use it, I doubt the stoutness of a Dwarf could finger the keys eloquently enough to draw forth it's song"
"It's not for sale" snapped Ren angrily, though he would be the first to admit he didn't know what it was, the thought of merely 100 pieces of gold seemed too small a price for one's soul...HIS soul. Trying to keep a calmness in his voice, Ren countered. The last thing he wanted was to start trouble in a bar full of Humans, especially with no other Dwarves to come to his aid should he require it. "I will turn your offer back on you. Since you seem to know what this is, teach me how to use it, and I will pay you for your efforts instead." Ren knew he was bargaining from a position of weakness, but if he could learn what it was, perhaps he could learn how it tied in with his desires, his destiny. "Interesting, very well then, if you can pass my test I will teach you free of charge. However if you fail, don't think you will be able to prevent me from claiming my prize" came the kurt reply. "It is a type of "focus", a channeling rod for the Magic of Music to flow through whoever turns the crank, and presses the keys. That bit of information is free, but are you ready for my test, I want you to crank the wheel and press the buttons as you play it. If the music comes forth, you have potential, and I will teach you of the ways of Music. If it does not, however, then not only will you not deserve my teachings; you shall not possess such a magnificent piece."
'Magic? Music? It's never been about either of those for me... But fame, good fortunes, those have forever been my earliest, most desperate desires.' Ren's mind began to spin with these revelations. The Teifling's mention of "a pathway" suddenly became clearer to the Dwarf, perhaps there was a deeper meaning to this trade than he had ever thought? 'But if I were to utilize this, work towards those goals, perhaps I could attain those heights. Perhaps it was never about being given a hand out, but to work hard to earn them myself, perhaps I can even earn my soul back through mastering this instrument?' Ren began to turn the crank slowly, pressing a few buttons as he did, and to his amazement notes began to play, weakly at first, but as he began to experiment with the speed of the wheel, and the different combinations of keys, he quickly began to notice that it was becoming easier for him to draw forth a song he had heard sung by his mother as a child. He found that as he mouthed her words in his mind, a strong voice sung them in perfect tune to his instrument.
As the last of Ren's words hung in the air, the Barman approached the pair with a plate of bread and cheese, and a small glass liquid in hands. "Here you go, a tip from the staff" Ren nodded an acknowledgement, astounded at what had just transpired. The bigger shock was still yet to come, as when he looked back at his uninvited guest. The man had changed before his eyes; the filthy rags, and squalid appearance of a beggar had transformed into fine silks and satin. Gold chains and embroidery adorned almost every inch of his tunic, and even the man's facial features had changed. Ren blinked his astonishment, not believing his own eyes as the man's ears elongated, and appeared more pointed. his scraggy beard became well manicured, and trimmed. He instead appeared as a Half-Elf of means, and not a poor human at all. The stranger spoke again, "Well, I suppose that means you have passed my little test. I am Aidan, and I will indeed show you the ways of the Bard. How to present yourself, and weave the fabric of history into a tangible thing. How to turn stories into the physical experiences that you can see, hear, smell, and share with the world...and the world will love you for it."
They came for him one winter's night.
Arrested, he was bound.
They said there'd been a robbery,
his pistol had been found.
They marched him to the station house,
he waited for the dawn.
And as they led him to the dock,
he knew that he'd been wronged.
"You stand accused of robbery,"
he heard the bailiff say.
He knew without an alibi,
tomorrow's light would mourn his freedom.
Over the hills and far away,
for ten long years he'll count the days.
Over the mountains and the seas,
a prisoner's life for him there'll be.
He knew that it would cost him dear,
but yet he dare not say.
Where he had been that fateful night,
a secret it must stay.
He had to fight back tears of rage.
His heart beat like a drum.
For with the wife of his best friend,
he spent his final night of freedom.
Over the hills and far away,
he swears he will return one day.
Far from the mountains and the seas,
back in her arms he swears he'll be.
Over the hills and far away.
Over the hills and,
over the hills and,
over the hills and far away.
Each night within his prison cell,
he looks out through the bars.
He reads the letters that she wrote.
One day he'll know the taste of freedom.
Over the hills and far away,
she prays he will return one day.
As sure as the rivers reach the seas,
back in his arms he swears she'll be.
Over the hills and far away,
he swears he will return one day.
Far from the mountains and the seas,
back in her arms he swears he'll be.
Over the hills and far away,
she prays he will return one day.
As sure as the rivers reach the seas,
back in his arms is where she'll be.
Over the hills,
over the hills and far away.
Over the hills,
over the hills and far away.
Roleplay Section:
Ren's fingers hurt, he didn't know if it was possible to pull finger muscles, but his hands told him that it likely was. Aidan's stern expression, and watchful eyes ran over the stout Dwarf. Who was sitting idly on a stool, and propping up his instrument against his gut. "Come now Ren, if you want to be able to earn fame and fortunes, you'll have to learn to play for longer than 10 minutes before cramping." Walking over to the Dwarf, and taking one hand in his own, Aidan applied hard pressure to the meat of Ren's palm, rubbing briskly towards his fingers. After a few seconds, and to the Dwarf's great surprise; the pain had diminished, even if only slightly.
"Maybe you should teach me that trick, instead of forcing me to run scales for unending hours, Master?" Rend muttered quietly to himself, but unfortunately not quietly enough for the Elven ears to miss "I'll teach you that, and much more, but only once you have earned it, don't run when you haven't mastered walking yet, you stubborn Dwarf" Aidan's tone was gentle, caring, but with a steel in the words that Ren knew he could not break. He would gain nothing, no knowledge, no advantaged position, from continuing this interaction. "No, I think you've taught me everything you can today. I appreciate your time, but I want to learn more, and you don't see that I can already run." Ren pulled his hand free of his Half-Elven mentor, and turned to leave. "I don't think you've heard, but there's a new power in town, and I've got something to show the world"
Race: Protector Aasimar
Gender: Male
Alignment: Neutral Good
Description: A man in his mid thirties Martin looks about a decade younger due to being an Aasimar. He has gold eyes with a slight glow and pure white hair that he keeps brushed back. On his face is a scar that he received from one of his more hysterical patients a few years ago.
Class: Cleric- Life Domain
Personality: Martin is a man dutiful man who takes pleasure in his trade. Though his bedside manner could use some work. He also has something of an ego. He has been told most of his life he is special and that his job is to protect and care for others. So at a certain point they need start listening to him and let him fix them.
Martin’s birth was a difficult one. His mother had been sick throughout the pregnancy and no one really believed she could carry the child to term. His parents were simple folk. Farmers without any real means and already having two children. Living in a small farming village a few miles from the sea. Fortunately for them the local church of Lathander (or other similar campaign specific deity) in their small town had a particularly gifted healer as the Head (and only) priestess Tabitha. She tended to Martin’s mother throughout the pregnancy and through her administrations managed to see child and mother through the birth alive and well. It was quite a shock when he turned out to be an Aasimar.
Seeing it as a blessing his parents let him study and learn from Tabitha for most of his childhood. But agrarian life never really suited him. He enjoyed studying. He enjoyed learning about the physicians arts and the sciences. There was only so much of that he could do at home. Seeing this Tabitha and his parents saved money and arranged for him to move to the city of Haven and study as a physician. And for almost two and a half decades he had a good life. His work was difficult but fulfilling.
Like Tabitha he treated people as best as he could and then let people pay what they could. So he was never wealthy, but he was respected both as a Doctor and a cleric. Especially amongst the poorer (and sometimes criminal) parts of the city. Martin just healed. Let the gods deal with judging those deemed “evil”. It certainly wasn’t something he cared for. He even took on his own apprentice. A young man named Alben.
It was a good life. Until he was unable to save someone. One night some men dragged in a young man who was dying of a poison administered by a knife wound. Martin did everything he could to save the boy. But this poison was like nothing he had ever seen or heard from. He had nothing that could counter it. Only slow the boys death. This young man was the son of a local crime lord. He did not take to kindly to Martin’s failure.
The punishment this Crime Lord decided on Martin was particularly insidious. She didn’t target him directly. She targeted his patients. It became very clear that anyone who wen to him for healing would wind up beaten in the gutter within a day or two. Seeing no other option for either himself or those he cared for, Martin left. Alben was skilled enough now to practice on his own. He hopped on a ferry down to Porta. There he signed on with a dwarven captain intent on exploration as the ships physician.
Background Selection: Acolyte ( Medicine instead of Insight)
Personality Traits:
Dutiful. I'm going to do what I'm meant to.
Sardonic. My bedside manner needs work.
Cheerful. But I'm happy to help you.
Ideal: Im just a doctor. It’s not on me to decide who needs healing. I just do it.
Bond: I have a duty to protect those in my care.
Flaw: I think I know what you need more then you do.
Roleplaying Sample:
Martin rifled through his medicine chest as the man on the bunk groaned loudly. I'm dying, m'dying...
With his back turned to the man Martin had allowed himself a fairly massive eye roll. No Eric. You're not dying. If you were dying you wouldn't be able to be so vocal about it.
He poured a powder into a tin cup and gently stirred it over a lamp to warm.
Eric, for his part, groaned louder. It had been a few weeks on the sea at this point. Martin had found his sea legs and even managed to stop being sea sick. It had not looked good. The Ships doctor retching off of the boat. Not great at all. But most of the crew took it in good humor. He just wished they would listen to him more when he told them how to keep healthy.
He handed the drink to the man and told him to drink it all quickly. When met with resistance he gently lifted the glass to the mans mouth and tilted it. That's right. Drink it all up now.
He took the glass away from the man who gasped and continued to clutch at his stomach. Wha's wrong wit me? Gas.
Martin said as he pulled an empty chamber pot from under the bed. Breathe deep and don't be shy. I'll be back in a bit.
With that he opened the port hole window and headed for the door. He paused and grabbed his small statue of Lathander first. Not even a god wants to see what was next. He had told the ships cook to use less lard and garlic in the food. But did he listen? Nope. Of course he didn't
May 28th, 2020, 12:04 PM
