[Characters] The Queen's Chosen

[Silent Rain]

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[Knightfall]

Magus Twigrix Character Appearance: Name: Magus Twigrix Age: ?? (He keeps his age a secret, but he is considerably into adulthood) Race: Fairy (Pixie) Class: Rogue Alignment: CG Background: Charlatan   Magus is small, even for pixie standards. He stands just under 1 foot tall and even that is attained with subtle lifts in his boots. He often finds himself easily overlooked and even nearly gets sat on regularly when in a public place with larger people. This however is only when he is in quiet contemplation, which admittedly is not often (more on that in personality). He has white hair with a shock of black across his bangs. He often has it pulled back behind his ears, or in a short ponytails, but when let down it barely goes lower than his neck line, just straddling his shoulders. His wings are black and purple, suitable to be showy when the need arises, but subtle in color enough to be not seen when he wants to be avoided. He is fair of skin and has dark green eyes. He would attempt to say that was for disguise in the woods, but really, he has purple wings so.... no one would buy that. If he walks, he has an odd sort of off beat sort of gate, which is why he prefers to fly which is what he is better at anyway. The only other thing notable about him is his left leg which occasionally can be noticed slightly bent in an direction. This is what gives him his gate. He was born with a club foot but had it straightened when he was a boy. It is only really noticeable if you stare at him, or watch him walk. Character Personality: Magus is a simple pixie. His a hard worker. That is if conning people and stealing their loose change is hard work. He is also a ladies-man. That is if by ladies-man you mean a guy who is constantly hounding ladies due to the fact that he can't ever convince any of them to go out for an evening with him. He is a smooth talker and even smoother with his hands. He steals from the rich and gives to the poor: Himself. Because he also doesn't have much money... Magus is often found in a bar either half drunk in a cup of ale.... literally in the cup.... Or dancing merrily to the tune of, well, anything really. He always finds his way to the center of attention! Until he picks your pocket, then he disappears. He will ask to dance with you, swear you fell in love with him, concede that it will not work and that you and him must part ways, drown his sorrows in ale, then ask another lady to dance, all in the same night. Like I said, he's a simple fairy.   Traits I fall in and out of love easily, and am always pursuing someone. To be frank, Magus views himself as a ladies-man, but in reality that may not always be the truth. In fact, it rarely is. Who wants a short pixie for a boyfriend? He is a firm believer in it not being the size of a man but the character of his heart. The downside is, being a charlatan, his character of his heart doesn't win too many either. He also has a tendency to believe someone is into him that actually most likely is the opposite.... Sad really. I pocket anything I see that might have some value. Magus is a bit of a kleptomaniac. He has a passion for valuable things. Not so much in the collecting sense as much as the "collecting" and "selling" sense. He is masterful a procuring items he should not be procuring. It gets him in trouble most times, but it has occasionally paid off. He notoriously dwells on the occasion rather than noticing the pattern, again, sad really. Ideal: Independence. I am a free spirit – no one tells me what to do. (Chaotic). The irony in this statement is so thick that one could cut it with a knife. He really is quite a free spirit, and nobody can tell him what to do. He calls it independence, but the reality is that if he were to ever be alone he would die of boredom and loneliness. He hates being alone. He has to be the center of attention. Just don't tell him what to do. Or that he's wrong. Or that he should reconsider. Or not to steal that. Or...... Bond: I owe everything to my mentor – a horrible person who's probably rotting in jail somewhere. Magus's mentor was a troll of a person. That's almost a literal statement. He was an ugly deformed old Vulpin who was bitter and detestable.... And it worked. He was a cunning thief and pickpocket and could work a charity con like no one else. Magus hated every moment he spent with Bulgvin. He owes all that he is to him.... Wait a second... Flaw: I can't resist a pretty face. This goes hand in hand with the ladies-man thing. It also happens to be the reason why he spends a lot of time in a bar and simultaneously poor. But no matter, there is always another squirrel in the tree as they say. But one face prettier than them all? Ohhh man.. What a guy would do to get a date with THE Queen Lumina? Maybe risk life and body on a suicide mission? Count Magus in. Backstory:   There was a time when Magus was not a conman and thief. Those were simpler days. He floated through life, danced a little, drank a lot, slept all day, enjoyed the warmth of family members, but most people enjoy life like that before they're born. Nearly from the moment he was born he was stealing things or convincing people he was some royal prince, or a blacksmith who could fix that sword, or a farrier who could shoe that horse, or a porter who could take your luggage, etc. The only difference was before it was harder to get away. He had a club foot you see, and that made moving in anyway apart from flying very difficult. Shortly after his *mghhdnfmm* birthday (he doesn't talk about his age, he believes it would ruin his chances with the ladies) he met a wretched old Vulpin named Bulgvin that was a poor, ugly beggar. This poor ugly beggar found a kindred spirit in the young Magus and took him on as a partner to his "charity work". Magus soon learned that charity was their own pockets. He learned everything from Bulgvin and absolutely hated his crotchety, miserable, bossy, demeaning ways. Soon Magus had enough money to pay for a mage to fix his leg, and he did so, mostly for his own vain reasons, but still. Bulgvin was not impressed. He wanted the boy to feel ugly, just like him. So Magus turned the old conman in and had him put in the slammer (also possibly an insane asylum). Many (unnumbered) years later, Magus found himself in a bar enjoying the company of a lady, losing her love, drinking himself stupid, then trying his hand at another, when he heard news that Queen Lumina was looking for brave, handsome, attractive adventurers to search for a missing group of someone or anothers for some reason or another, but the reasons were hardly relevant. This was a chance to meet Queen Lumina. He hardly needed another reason. He would do this for fame, wealth, fortune, loot, ladies, ale, adventure charity out of his kind heart to help his Queen in her desperate time of need. RP Sample:   "And your name is?" Magus asked the lady sitting beside him at the bar. She was a bit taller than him, and by a bit, he estimated about 4 feet or more, but no matter. He waited patiently for a response. Finally, after asking twice more, she looked down and caught sight of the little pixie she had previously not known was there. She had looked around the room both times previous, but over top of him. She was swirling her finger in her mug, looking more and more bored and frustrated each time. "Oh, I'm sorry, my name is Lily." Score! She was digging him, he knew it, she gave him her name. It was a matter of time before their romance would blossom. "Forgive me, I didn't even see you there. But I really should get going," She said looking around awkwardly "There are other guys over there, taller ones, ones who are less cool but totally into stupid things like jumping down abandoned wells...." The conversation trailed off. She obviously wasn't his type. Her response may or may not have gone the way he remembered it, but in the end she clearly wasn't the right girl. Magus sighed. He knew there was a woman out there for him. He plunged his head back into the cup of ale. Soon his torso followed, then his feet. He hovered slightly above the bottom of the mug, head down, slurping up the remains of his extra small (for big people, super extra big for him) mug. Suddenly the mug began to move. "Oi! Whats the deal bud!" He yelled out. "Oh, sorry, I didn't see you down there." the bar tender answered back, bustling along the bar. He was a red faced man, sweating, and clearly struggling to keep up with the busy bar. "I'm afraid I couldn't hear your drinking over the loud clatter of coins in my pocket." Again, not verbatim, but the point was there. This man might look twice if his pockets were lighter he thought. *Yoink* Magus snatched up a handful of coins from the busy bar tender's pockets and stuffed them into his backpack. It was only a moment later that he heard someone on the other side of the room talking about an offer from Queen Lumina for adventurers to go on a quest for her. If they found this missing something or rather, then they might win a chance to take her on a date, or something. That sounded great to Magus. That may not have actually been the reward or the quest, but Magus had to go see for himself what the terms were for the quest, and if he happened to win the heart of the Queen of the realm, then bonus. Magus packed up his bags and left the bar.   Magus's life is a complex hash of memories and moments, but there is one thing, one constant in all his tale: The Elder Tree. He has spent his entire life in the Tree. He has heard of other places but has yet to venture to them. He has really no interest in going apart from curiosity. He enjoys the Tree, he knows the Tree, all his connections are in the Tree. He knows the guard patterns, the shop hours, where the wealthy will be, when the black markets will be buying, all of it is his life. Magus was born in the roots. He was born to squalor and disparity. His family was poor, very poor, so poor in fact that shortly after his father died, his mother died of a simple stomach bug because they couldn't afford to have a priest heal her or an apothecary make a medicine. All the children were left to find for themselves. It drew then apart and away. In the end, Magus was left alone, helpless, in the roots. But at least it was home. That was when he met Bulgvin. One has to ask why Magus would join the company of such a miserable creature, but when you know a thing or two about Magus's past, well it makes sense. He had nothing and no one else. Besides, Bulgvin could provide a life for Magus that was beyond his means. Magus had never seen the Canopy before. It was far more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. To this day he spends most of his time in the Canopy, drinking at bars out of his means, drinking drinks far too expensive for himself, but then again, the pockets in the Canopy are heavy enough to afford such pleasures. The Canopy has always held a wonder and amazement to him. Now, Magus lives in the Trunk. He has a little hovel really in the mid section. He only ever really goes there when he needs a place to sleep or when he needs to duck out of the public eye (specifically the Fey guard's eyes) for a while. It really isn't even large enough for an average humanoid to fit into. It is a serious of narrow tunnels that connect in a circle. Plenty big for someone 1 foot tall, not so much for the rest of the world. Magus often visits the Roots. He loves the Canopy, lives in the Trunk, but the Roots are home to him. The musty smell, the squishy fungus ridden ground, all of it feels homey to him. This is where he often deals the items he needs to sell on the black markets. In the Roots no one asks questions, they just buy. Not the highest prices, but sometimes discretion carries its own value. He sees his family from time to time, they have their own families now. He is the "richest" of the kids, but the most lonely. They take pity on him ironically as he takes pity on their squalor. Both are blind to the other's joys and, in some part, troubles. What this all means is that Magus is actually a sheltered person. He has little experience outside of his comfort zones, as odd as it sounds to say he is comfortable being chased by guards and growing up in a ghetto. The truth is though that none of those things are experiences that he had to step out of his path to experience. Those things were thrust into his path. The only real choice he feels like he ever made in that regard is joinging Bulgvin. So for him, seeking out to join the expedition go investigate the darkness on the East side of the Isle is a monumental step for him. Not only is it perhaps one of the first times he has ever put himself in really, truly, perilous danger, it is definately the first time he will have ever stepped out of the Elder Tree. It's a daunting task for him. Even further than that however is that it is almost out of character for him, or at least the image of himself he displays. Magus projects himself as a self made Pixie, one who looks out for himself and serves only himself. He projects a very confident and even arrogant persona, but in reality he is a scared little thing trying to survive. It's also in contrast to the fact that, deep inside, he would be devastated if anything ever happened to his home. Inside he loves the Elder Tree and all its inhabitants. All the quirky, stupid, beautiful, smelly, strange, diverse people that call the tree home.... Just like him. This is in large part his motivation for going. He just wants to protect his home, even if that means putting himself not only in danger, but outside the tree. It's a horrifying thought for him, but one he would willingly do for his home. Sheet: https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=82998

[Avner]

Stag Name: Brother Iolar O'Damh Age: 23 Race: Cerva Class: Monk (4-Elements) Alignment: NG Background: Inheritor Character Appearance: Iolar is not what most would call a normal Cervan, although he has the slim and nimble build of those of the grove his complexion is that of an albino. Many legends speak of the rare eventuality of the white stag and much of Cervan legend speaks of the occurrence of such a creature during the vision seen during 'the Sight' but it is only once in a generation or two that a true Albino Cervan is born and it is always expected that they portent a great impact on the world. Character Personality: Iolar is confident, but cautious and is one who has heard too much of fates and destiny to actually believe a word of it all. He is suspicious of anything he can not see with his own eyes and measures merit on action, not politics. Iolar is slow to form friendships wanting to see proof of ones value and trust but once that trust is given it is very rarely taken away. Personality Trait 1: When I set my mind to something I follow through no matter what gets in my way. Personality Trait 2: I judge people by their actions not their words. One Ideal: Sincerity. There is no good in pretending I'm something I am not. One Bond: I protect those who cannot protect themselves One Flaw: I distrust ideas of fate and have trouble believing in my own destiny. Backstory:It has stood since before the reckoning of the world and its rebirth that the presence of a stag with fur of white was if anything if not elusive. Beyond that its presence has alyways been a symbol, some legends held that the white stag signaled the presence of the Otherworld or marked some great act of transgression. Some have also viewed it as a symbol of their deity or of royalty and purity. The Cerva were no different despite their more practical nature the impact of the old times left its mark and there was always a place for a legend to make them wary and to provide them hope. Beyond that their visions during 'the sight' had often fed into the legends of lore. Their own legend of the White Stag or in their case, the White Cervan was three fold. Most importantly the presence of a white haired Cervan was rare occurring as a possibility of once in a generation at the most, sometimes skipping a generation altogether. It was this rarity that fed to the other two aspects of the legend for they believed that the birth of such a Cervan was the omen of a great change, whether good or bad, and that the Cervan would most likely have a large impact on whatever change he or she foretold. Beyond that there was also the fear that the Humblefolk had made some sort of transgression to bring summon the warning of their deities. An Unexpected Birth Iolar was both miraculous and unexpected. The parents of the fawn were told that they could not procreate and so when his mother was found with child. They considered the opportunity a blessing and when Iolar was born in white it just let to their own superstition that a miracle had occured. Their own typical pragmatism had been shattered by their misery and being able to have a family only to be blessed with such a fateful child. The last white cervan had been penned into the records was born over two generations ago leading to an even larger fascination with Iolar's birth. No one had realized it had been Iolar's great grandfather do to the practice of handing over such a fawn to the Order of the Hoof and Antler. Just as his great grandfather before him Iolar's parents gave him a name and passed him on to the order. His parents never questioned the decision even after they were able to produce two more offspring after Iolar of traditional heritage. They never reached out to the Order to meet their son knowing it was forbidden. They had allowed their pragmatism to return coming to the conclusion that letting the Order of the Hoof and Antler adopt him was for the greater good. The Order of the Hoof and Antler Each of the closely knit villages of Cervans had been tied together by an order known as the Hoof and Antler. It was their duty to allow the communities to remain independent yet to have a unified approach to their survival within the Humblewood. They kept the order of things and mediated any issues between villages when they arose. They had been known to be approached for recommendation for future cervan leaders and had gained a positive reputation for the accolades of those they had suggested. In addition to their expected duties they also held together a tight brotherhood that had been partially founded on the concept of seeing over the legend of the white stag and adopting any such a fawn into their order. Such was the case with Iolar when they brought him into the conclave and taught him the way of their order. The concept was a simple one. If the Cervan born of white was to have great influence than they would want to have their own influence on the upbringing of such a fawn. What they didn't expect was for the child to fight so strongly against their teachings. Iolar was the embodiment of cervan practicality and refused to believe anything that was not reasonable and held purpose among their folk. Much of what the Hoof and Antler taught him he considered nonsense, especially when it came to his great destiny. The White Cervan Each day Iolar would wake, be instructed to do his forms and be taught the history of his people, including the legend of what he supposedly was and who he was to become. They told him he would have abilities beyond that of a normal cervan and that he would somehow change the course of history just as the others had before him. In the grove that he had meditated in every day were the satues of the white ones before him. Large monuments to heroes of the Cervan which had completed great deeds, many of which Iolar found all too convenient. Iolar had no trust in legends, just in his own abilities so he trained every day for what he saw as a more practical lesson. He spent as much time away from his studies and always finding the training grounds or practicing climbing through the trees and working on his more applicable skills. The majority of his childhood consisted of the Brothers of the Hoof and Antler chasing him down to try and preach to him about one thing or another. Iolar was often approached by those warriors who had a vision during a near death experience claiming the white stag had somehow saved them. Iolar put little merit in these visions wary of their accuracy let alone the interpretations in what seemed to him a sense of desperation. He did however respect the abilities of these warriors and would brush them off with humility often telling them it was most likely another and that he respected their sacrifice. In truth each one of these strange prophetic accusations bothered Iolar to the core. Not only was the imposition of such a thing impractical, it attempted to rob him of his free will as if he were just living out predetrimined actions. The older he got and the more the legend of the White Sevan was brought to him the more he pushed back. Soon his answers were less elegant until he outright refused to destiny and birthright claiming that he would pave his own path. It was right when the Order had gotten the call from Queen Lumina for assistance when Iolar had chosen to walk away from the Order. Brother Uasal his mentor and father-like figure had approached him one last time to say his goodbyes but with him he brought the letter. Handing it to Iolar he knew he could not order the cervan to go, but secretly hoped he would make the right choice. After a solemn farewell the two parted ways varying in opinion on what road Iolar would be traveling. RP Sample: The grove was quiet but for the sounds of the crickets in the trees and the wind rustling the branches. Iolar sat cross legged in the middle of the grove with his eyes closed breathing in deeply and calmly slowly mediating as he had been taught throughout his childhood. Reaching out and attempting to find the balance within himself he noted the lack of presence of any birds within the wood, which was how the cervan liked it. They wars had left their scars and peace was truly found when the feathered folk had kept to themselves. Iolar however knew the tranquility would not last as he sat within his inner self. The monk was no longer as student and had recently been pressed against his 'noble destiny' more than he liked these days. Earlier in the morning he had once again pressed back, this time perhaps too adimantly. Brother Gravias had tried to insuate that he would take a place among the statues that currently surrounded him and that to do so he must follow the Orders direction. It was then that he pointed out that not one of those they so cherished had and called the Order out as a clutch at a facade of power using him to falsly claim some sort of surperiority over the other groves. It had surprisingly pushed brother Gravias over ther edge and had lead to him attempting to lash out. Iolar had easily dodged the former teacher and left him with a bowl of spilled porridge on his snout when his missed kick landed on the table holding breakfact and catapulted it to his face. The white cervan swiftly fled in the impending chaos to the shouting of Brother Gravias as he made his way to the sacred clearing where he now sat. He was broken out of his meditation by the approach of footsteps. When he opened his eyes and came back to the present he recognized his petitioner, it was the one he asociated as a father figure, the one who had always tried his best to understand him, the head of the Order Brother Uasal. "If you are hear about Brother Gravias he did that to himself." he said defensively but was met with only a smile. "I did hear about Brother Gravias, but I think we all know you just exposed a nerve that had been lingering in our deer brother. Envy does not suit him well and he will repent for his anger. No, Brother Gravias has his own issues to deal with, but he has exposed something in you as well..." "He did? What did I do? I mean I guess I should have been more controlled in my words against the order, but its not the first time..." "No not that... you have made your intentions clear. You are leaving us, it is wrong for me to cling on to you so tight." "Oh... that." Iolar said as if he had been caught. "Do not fret. I suppose sometimes I think of you as more of a son than a brother, having raised you for so long, but at the end I am not your father, just your mentor. The time has come to release your bonds." "Don't you dare say I need to go fulfill that prophecy.." "No. I know I can tell you not what to do. Your path as you have declared is your own to make. I can only hope my teachings will give you the understanding you need to make the right choice. " [say]I... thank you Brother Uasal.[/day] "You have earned it. I came here to give you want last bit of knowledge." he said as he pulled a letter from his robe and handed it to Iolar. "The Queen has petitioned the Order for help." "I am not going to leave here just to be an errand boy for the order Uasal!" "No you are not, as you have made it clear. She has asked for adventurers to assist in finding those in need of help. The Order cannot get involved for reasons I will not bore you with, politics and all of that." he explained. "However, you are no longer acting on behalf of the order. If you choose to go it would of your own accord. So the question is... there are poeple out there in trouble, people who need you. Will you answer the call?" "Brother Uasal I'm sorry... I thought..." "Do not apologize. You do not answer to me, only yourself. Goodbye Brother Iolar, may you find what your looking for out there. Carry my teachings with you, may the choice you make be the best one." As he made the comment having delivered his final farewell he turned away just to hear the whisper behind him. "Goodbye... father..." Iolar let out. "I will make you proud." Iolar knew he would have never gone of the Order of the Hoof and Antler had ordered it. He looked down at the letter in his hand as he clutched it. Damn. he thought. They needed him and he knew exactly what he was going to do, just as Uasal probably had expected. He would answer the call.

[Pseudonymous]

The Inquisitive Skyrat Name: Imogene Camilla Coriander von Milletblossom Age: 30 Race: Sable Luma Class: Ranger (Swarmkeeper) Alignment: Chaotic good Background: Sage Character Appearance: In terms of size and plumage, Imogene is about as average a Luma as can be. Her family having descended from common rock-pigeons, she has slate-grey feathers, golden eyes and a slight haze of green-and-purple iridescence along her neck. She stands at a modest 1'2". She is most commonly seen wearing clothes appropriate for long treks outdoors, as her studies take her across the Wylde Wood for weeks at a time. A pair of much-abused glasses rest upon her beak, often shadowed beneath the large wool-lined earflap hat she seems to wear no matter the weather. Character Personality: Imogene is easily excited, easily distracted, and often lost in her own mind. She is friendly to others, though her absentmindedness and somewhat brusque manner of speech can be offputting to those who don't know her well. She loves a good mystery and will gladly leap into new situations feet-first if it holds any degree of interest to her. This has caused problems for her in both academia and the average day-to-day life: In her mind, rules are meant to be followed only as long as they are convenient to her. Traits: -I am horribly, horribly awkward in social situations. -My train of thought is often derailed. Why should I go from point A to point B when point J is so much more interesting?? Ideal -No Limits: Nothing should fetter the infinite possibility inherent in all existence. Bond -My study of the natural world is my life's work, and I am completely dedicated to completing it. Flaw -I speak without really thinking through my words, invariably insulting others. -Some people scream and run when they see a demon. I stop and take notes on its anatomy. Backstory:   BEING THE TRUE AND ACCURATE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF PROFESSOR IMOGENE CAMILLA CORIANDER von MILLETBLOSSOM, IN THE EVENT OF HER INEVITABLE RISE TO FAME. With anecdotes and completely unbiased footnotes by the aforementioned Professor herself. NOTE TO SELF: need better title prior to submittal for publication. Too long. -I. v.M. As the more educated and canny folk of the Wylde Wood should likely already know, Professor von Milletblossom (note to self: Can I call myself a professor in an autobiography without an actual degree? Hm, don't see why not. My book, my title. Basically a professor anyway. -I. v.M.) is a leading voice in the field of natural philosophy thanks to her groundbreaking work in documenting the Wood's flora and fauna. Through first-hand (Note: first-paw? First-wing? -I. v.M.) research conducted in the field and controlled experiments in her laboratory (Note to self: Speaking of experiments, what did I do with those beetles I collected last week? Did I put them on the shelf upstairs or the one in the larder? Oh well. If it's in the larder I'm sure I'll hear about it from the other folk using the laboratory. -I.v.M.) she has achieved an unparalleled understanding of the Wood and its myriad lifeforms. Surely, hers will be a name praised throughout academia for generations to come, despite the mocking of those stuffy know-nothings back at the Avium. But how did von Milletblossom become such a specialist, you might ask? (And you would be well to ask! Curiosity is the key to personal enlightenment!) Was she, perhaps, born into academia? No indeed, she was not! Imogene Camilla Coriander von Milletblossom was born a simple squab in Marshview, to a farmer and a potter. These are, of course, the most beneficial professions to inspire a young scientific mind, as they fostered an affinity for being outdoors, getting one's talons dirty, and learning about the delicate ecological and geological balances required to sustain life and the creation of-- (Note to self: I forgot what I was going to say here. My lab partner found the beetles down in the larder and spent an annoyingly long time yelling about damaged food stores and maggots in the flour and such nonsense. It wasn't even that many maggots. And it was fascinating learning how the insects managed to escape their container and reproduce so quickly. So science wins again. -I.v.M.) When she came of age, it was decided that Imogene's personal studies of the natural world around Marshview could be greatly benefited by formal higher education. So, full of hope and a curious mind, she enrolled in the Avium. It was stupid It was mildly useful a test of patience infuriating Hmm...... It is said that no experience is ever truly wasted, and so it must be said that von Milletblossom's time in the Avium was not without its benefits. To its credit, she learned many valuable techniques for record keeping and conducting experiments in accordance with the scientific method. It also encouraged her to leave and go back to her own private studies out in the wild. The vast majority of folk were MAJORLY SHORTSIGHTED AND FAILED TO SEE THE BEAUTY AND PURPOSE OF MY RESEARCH critical of von Milletblossom's life work and unique methods. "If we needed to know what insects thought about, Ms. von Milletblossom, we'd talk to a hedge, who can actually SPEAK to insects." "Stop propagating mildew spores in your dormitory, Ms. von Milletblossom: I don't care about your research into ideal growing conditions." "You can't use library books to feed bookworm larvae, Ms. von Milletblossom." "You can't major in mycology and botany and entomology and zoology and marine biology and meteorology and interpretive dance all at once, Ms. von Milletblossom." Tired of such restrictions, von Milletblossom boldly returned to Marshview to conduct her own research independently. The best way to do this, she discovered, was by actually spending time out in the wilderness to study nature in situ. Thus, over the past decade von Milletblossom has conducted hundreds of field surveys and filled dozens of notebooks with her findings. These, upon completion, will be her greatest work and will surely be a major benefit to all creatures of the Wood, whether they know it or not. All she needs to do now to complete her work is ---- [The rest of the page seems to be a massive stain of ink and charcoal, as though something had knocked over an inkwell. Tiny webbed footprints, like those of a frog, trail across the paper.] RP Sample:   Poor Timing for an Adventure "Inconvenient!!" Imogene's arrival was heralded by a disgruntled squawk and a slamming door. She swept into the cramped little room in a huff of feathers and annoyance, her arms full of various baskets, scrolls, a net dripping with stream water and strands of soggy vegetation, and a suspiciously damp bundle of cloth. "Incredibly, terribly, disgustingly inconvenient!" The room's only other occupant, a mapach huddled over some mechanical device of his own design, stifled a groan. Imogene wasn't due back from her "field research" for another three days. The mapach had been banking on having time to clean up his more delicate creations before the scatterbrained pigeon returned. So much for that. This workshop really needed to be larger. "Oh, Imogene, it's... good to see you," he said with a sigh, hastily sweeping his notes and tools away from the steadily growing puddle of water trailing from the net as Imogene mindlessly paced around the floor. "I thought you were--Oof!" He was swiftly interrupted by the load of items Imogene shoved into his arms. "Ah, Trass! Here, take these!" she said. "Very, very inconvenient, all of this happening right now! Right in the middle of my research! Twelve species of wildflowers blooming in the next two weeks! Fifteen mud dauber nests on the west perimeter of the site, ready to hatch!" "Um," said Trass. "What--" "Moderate algae bloom on the pond, not to dangerous levels but still-- Wait, where's my algae? What did I do with my-- Oh! You have it!" She pulled the soggy pile of cloth out of Trass' hands (for which he was grateful) and unwrapped it to reveal a jar of murky water and a disgusting pile of green goop which she frantically scooped up with her bare hands and dropped into the jar. "Drat. Knew I forgot something. Shoulda put it in the water right away. Hopefully it's alright. And isn't toxic. Hm. Must research that. I'll just put it here on the windowsill for now. Not to worry, I won't forget about it this time." Trass shuddered. The last time she said that, she left a jug of unusual-looking tadpoles on a bookshelf and ended up with dozens of tiny blue frogs hopping about everywhere. He was sure there were still some lurking around somewhere. "Look, Imogene, what are you on about?" Trass said, carefully setting the rest of Imogene's "treasures" on a bench. He had no idea what was in them and was in no hurry to find out. "What's so inconvenient?" The luma stopped in her tracks. "What? What's so... inconv--" It took a moment for the proverbial light to go on, as her train of thought had already derailed several times and thus needed time to find its way back to the station. "Oh! Yes! Inconvenient!!" She pointed towards the door. "Right in the middle of my research, my very important research, cataloguing the Wylde Wood's flora and fauna, some sort of completely new species sees fit to pop out of the woodwork! Queen Whatserface, Lucinda... Lavinia..." "Lumina." Trass supplied flatly. "Yes! That one! She sends out scouts because there's rumors of some kind of strange--- Where's my notebook? Ah, here it is. What was I saying? Yes. Rumors of strange new creatures roaming about to the east, and none of them come back!" "The creatures?" "The scouts! They just disappear, no sign of them, so there's no notes about the new creatures' appearances or habits or diets or taxonomical standing." As she spoke, Imogene began shoving books and supplies into a backpack. "Never send a scout to do a naturalist's work, I always say!" Trass' eyebrows shot up. "Genie, those creatures killed them!" he gasped. "You can't possibly be thinking of going after them!" Imogene waved a scroll at him in reprimand. "No solid evidence!" she said. "Can't say the creatures killed them until you find the creatures! Queen Wazzerface wants adventurers to track 'em down. I want to find out what's out there, preferably before some numbskull destroys 'em beyond use! Best way to do that is to join the adventurin' party!" She shoved the scroll into the backpack. "So I'm going, for the good of all the Wylde Wood, to find and study these creatures. Only then can we fairly decide if they're dangerous. Observation! Study! Not here-say! Where are my glasses?" The glasses were on her beak, the same place they had been the entire day. She pulled her woolen hat further over her head, crammed a few more books and supplies into the backpack, and headed towards the door. "You take care while I'm gone," she said. "Please feed the minnows in the glass vase, water the sprouts I've got in the windowsill, keep an eye on the ant farm in my desk and please don't disturb the fungal growth I've got going in the rafters. Oh, and the brown recluse spider eggs may be close to hatching, so watch out for that. Please document your observations. Goodbye!" And with that, she was gone. "....what brown recluse eggs?" Trass asked meekly, eyes darting to every shadowy corner of the room. He really, really should have stuck with another scroungecrafter for a workshop partner instead of a naturalist.

[Treble83]

Application Name: Warryn "Acorn" Timbers Age: 24 Race: Brownie Class: Cleric (Nature Domain) Alignment: LG Faith: The Elder Tree Background: Outlander Character Appearance: At three feet tall and 55 lbs, Acorn is rather large by his people's standards. His long brown hair is very curly and usually pulled back to be kept out of his eyes. His armor is heavy and cumbersome chain mail (which he hopes to replace someday) but he is grateful to have it. He carries a staff primarily but also wields a shield and mace (just in case he needs them). Character Personality: Despite being a pacifist by nature, he will not stand by if he sees the innocent being attacked. The same goes for his family or friends. As a representative of the Elder Tree, he will defend nature and the creature's of the Fey with his last breath. Outside of that, Acorn is a very trusting fellow. He has grown up on an island of likeminded Fey. He's been warned that evil exists in the world and he's heard the stories of the times before the calamity. Although he doesn't want to see harm come to any living creature, he couldn't just stand by if anything ever were to happen to his home. That's what drove to him a life of service. Traits: I watch over my friends as if they were a litter of newborn pups. Ideal: Nature. The natural world is more important than all the constructs of civilization. Bond: An injury to the unspoiled wilderness of my home is an injury to me. Flaw: I am far too trusting. I want to see the best in everyone. Backstory: The only deity that Warryn had ever known was The Elder Tree. He had heard legends of deities that existed long ago. Apparently, they took the form of sentient creatures. Many of these legends suggest that the greed and pride of those deities almost destroyed the world. The few good ones among them gave life to the Elder Tree. In return, the tree had become the source of life for his people and for all life on their island. All who respected nature were loved equally by the tree. However, a select few were chosen to be Protectors. These Protectors were granted additional power by the tree, so long as they continued to be loyal and serve. Warryn did not grow up believing that he would ever be a Protector. Instead, he grew up enjoying life to it's fullest. He lived in the woods among his people, fellow fey, and the animals of the wilds (in perfect harmony). However, as the little brownie matured, he started to develop natural instincts to protect those that could not defend themselves. In order for us to enjoy this gift, someone must be willing to guard it. Someone who truly loves it and is willing to risk themselves to protect it from harm... Shortly thereafter, he began training with the warriors of the community. He learned how to wield weapons from the smallest to the largest variety, how to move in armor, and how to protect himself with a shield. His parents saw this and approached him. "If you truly wish to be a Protector than go and pray at the base of the elder tree in the early hours of dawn. If it sees fit, you will be rewarded with gifts that will aid you. If the Elder Tree blesses you, then you will be responsible for protecting not only your friends and family but the Island as a whole. Remember, you don't have to do this! We have warriors." After pondering his parent's words he finally replied. "I understand but something inside of me tells me that we will need more than just warriors. The Elder Tree deserves more..." Warryn approached the tree and began praying for its blessing. Suddenly, a warm feeling came over the brownie. As he opened his eyes, he saw that his walking staff had begun to Shileleigh Cantripglow with a dim green light. When he looked up, he saw the fabled "Protectors," a group of adventurers chosen by the Elder Tree to aide the good and decent folk of Wylde Wood and to protect the land. Since that day, Warryn has been working with them to master not only his fighting skills but also to foster his connection with the Elder Tree in order to nurture his newfound gifts.   RP Sample:As Warryn stood up from praying at the tree, he was approached by fellow protectors. The first thing that struck him was that they were all walking slowly and staring directly at him... The first was Lola, the strig paladin. Lola's face was stern but there was softness in her eyes. She did not say a word but gave a nod to the brownie. Walking next to Lola was her husband Aera (raptor). As a ranger, Aera was famous for his work with a longbow and with tracking prey. Coming from the right, Warryn saw the leader of the protectors, Takeo (vulpin). Takeo was known for his interesting mix of swordplay and magic (Eldritch Knight) but also for his silver tongue. Appropriately, Takeo was the first to speak. "Greetings Warryn! We have been keeping an eye on you..." Warryn was shocked and it must have shown all over his face because Takeo just laughed. "The Elder Tree speaks to all of us. He will speak to you now as well but it's up to you to listen." Shaking his head excitedly, Warryn responded. "I will! I will! Just tell me how. Will I hear a voice?" Takeo grinned at the brownies question. "No, sadly you will not likely hear the Elder Tree's voice. Instead, you will get a sense of what he wants from you. He will not force you to do anything, only guide you. If you follow this guidance, you will be rewarded with great power. If you don't, then he will take that power from you just as quickly as you have gained it. Are you ready for your first test?" Again, Warryn shook his head eagerly. "Yes! Yes! How can I be of service?" Looking around, the Vulpin called out... "Blackberry!? Where is that sneaky little mapach?" Warryn jumped back a step when a female mapach wearing studded leather armor arcane trickster using invisibilitysuddenly appeared next to Takeo with an evil grin across her face. "Keep your armor on boss, I was just testing our new recruits observation skills.*winks at Warryn*Don't worry, we'll work on it..." Trying to hide his amusement, Takeo did his best to stay on task. "Right... Well did you bring the equipment that we discussed for our new friend?" Blackberry pulled out a tiny model of a chest and holds it up. "I've got it right here!" Then with a flick of her wrist and an inaudible magical word spoken, a beautiful wooden chest appeared in front of the mapach. "You may have everything INSIDE of the chest but NOT the chest itself. It's worth far more than anything inside of it..." Opening the chest revealed a set of chain mail armor, a mace, a shield, a light crossbow, twenty bolts, and a backpack full of adventuring gear. The armor was a unique shade of brown (due to the mixture of bronze and iron rings that made it up). Blackberry could not help but to giggle. "You look like a giant acorn!"*pokes Warryn's chest*"Yep...I'm gonna call you Acorn!". Warryn could not help but to laugh along, despite how nervous he still was about all of this. Turning his attention to Takeo "I'm suited up and ready boss! Where should I start?" Takeo held his hands up (palms out) to indicate that the brownie needed to slow down. "For now, you will train with us. When you are ready, I will let you know... Based on the equipment that the Elder Tree has chosen for you, it looks like you have been chosen to be a cleric on his behalf. That is both wonderful and challenging. Our senior cleric, Roe (male cerva) was part of an adventuring party that Queen Lumina tasked with a scouting mission a few weeks ago. They have not returned and no one has heard from them for the past two weeks. When you are ready, I want you to find a worthy adventuring party to go and find him and the others. Even if the worst has come to pass, you will need to continue the Quen's mission of clearing the forest of any evil creatures and sending reports back as to what you find."

[PalladiaMors]

Mouselock Name: Kiana Brightstar Age: 6 Race: Jerbeen Class: Warlock (the Archfey) Alignment: Chaotic Good Background: Acolyte Traits: - The spirits of the ancient fae are always whispering through the Elder Tree, there just aren't many of us who can hear them. - I would rather talk my way out a situation than fight. Fortunately I'm a good talker. Ideal: - Life is too short to be bored, I like to have fun! Nobody tells me what to do. Well, except the tree. Bond: - The ancient fae spirits and the Elder Tree chose me to be a vessel for their power, that's the one responsibility I take seriously. Flaw: - Fun and pretty things tend to get my attention. I try to focus but sometimes it's OOH shiny!   A bit on the short side even by jerbeen standards, Kiana comes in at about ten and a half inches high, closer to the faeries than most humblefolk. Her body is covered with light gray fur with some white markings in places while long, silvery hair hangs from her head, seemingly waving in the breeze even where there isn't any. Her sparkling green eyes resemble gemstones and always have the twinkle of mischief in them, both features the result of her bond with the Elder Tree and close association with the fey. Kiana favors a simple green dress with small, mouse-sized baubles woven into her hair or as earrings in her large, jerbeen ears. Kiana's voice is melodious, and when she speaks it's almost as if she's singing as much as talking. Sometimes she'll even speak in rhyme and she has the scent of flowers about her, even when she isn't wearing one in her hair, which she usually is.   Kiana is the epitome of a free spirit. Typically friendly, jovial, and exuberant it seems she's always on the lookout for something fun to do or someone fun to talk with. Easily bored, she has little patience for dull things as she feels that as a jerbeen, life is far too short to waste doing things that aren't bringing joy to herself and others. She has little in the way of restraint and the words "I dare you to" are a good way to get her to do almost anything. It often seems like she's off in her own little world, holding conversations with beings that aren't there or staring intently at things that cannot be seen. Her eccentric behavior has led some jerbeen to speculate that she isn't entirely there, but they don't understand the effect the fae have had on her. In truth Kiana is as much faerie as she is mouseling, at least in mind and spirit and is aware of things that few other creatures are. For all of her good-naturedness though she can get rather dark and feisty when the Elder Tree or those who revere it are threatened, not unlike the fae themselves. Typical of a jerbeen she would rather solve a conflict with words than violence, but the truly evil and unrepentant can provoke her to action rather quickly.   Kiana began and has lived her short life in the upper branches of the Elderheart, where the small size and agility of the jerbeen make the otherwise treacherous branches of the great tree barely even an obstacle. For generations her family has tended a small shrine high in the branches in honor of the ancient fey spirits who have come before, that they and their contributions to the world would never be forgotten. There are many who find it strange that a shrine to the fey is tended by jerbeen, but as her ancestors have said, we are all family through the Elder Tree. One of six children Kiana was a bit meek and stereotypically mousy growing up, often overlooked but never really seeking attention anyway. She had family and friends and never wanted for much more other than service to the Elder Tree and the ancient spirits connected to it. She was raised as a shrine tender as was family tradition, and would have been happy spending her life as such, but the fae spirits her family revered, through the Elder Tree, had other ideas. One evening under a starry night while Kiana was midway through her training she heard a voice that sounded like a choir of faeries singing, a sound she was familiar with. But this sounded more ethereal, distant somehow. And far more beautiful than any song she'd heard in her short life. Even stranger none of her extended family in the house seemed to hear it, or if they did, they were sleeping through it. She considered waking someone up but the song changed and grew even more entrancing. It beckoned her and her alone, and led her through the branches to the heart of the Elder Tree itself. The music was even louder and even more beautiful yet at some point along the journey Kiana came to realize it was all in her head. Not that it mattered, either way she was compelled to seek it out. A swirl of green light awaited her, the small mouseling watching as though hypotized. The cacophony of words that likewise swirled in her mind were strange to her, and yet amidst the sounds she understood the meaning. The spirits of the fae and the Elder Tree has chosen her for something greater than maintaining a shrine. They wished to act through her in order to thwart a coming darkness. She would be a vessel for their power, channeling the magic of the Elder Tree in order to protect all of the Wylde Wood. There was magic in her family from their long association with the fae and the Elder Tree, and as the third born child of a third born child themselves a third born child she was gifted with magical aptitude, the number three being of importance to the fae. She could refuse, of course, but the fae spirits did not even have to tell her of the alternative, she readily accepted without hesitation. The magic of the Elder Tree flowed into her and changed her. Silvery hair flowed from her head like that common among the fae, her eyes took on the sparkle of gemstones, and the more meek, traditional, and restrained ways of the jerbeen were melted away and replaced with the capricious, whimsical, and chaotic nature of the fae. Her parents found this most distressing, of course, but have come to accept and welcome the blessing bestowed upon her since. In the intervening months Kiana has been communing with the Elder Tree, seeking its guidance and instruction in the ways of magic. When Queen Lumina first called for volunteers to investigate the growing darkness Kiana was already there. The Elder Tree had sent her for just that purpose, having foreseen the perils to come and chosen her for just this purpose. Kiana didn't mind, the whole thing sounded like fun.   A very regal-looking sprite approached the designated waiting area within the great tree to meet with one of the volunteers who had arrived at the queen's request. An early arrival, his notes informed him that she actually lived within the upper reaches of the Elderheart. Convenient, it meant she didn't have to travel far. He was surprised to find she was a jerbeen, normally they weren't so adventurous. Pausing before the door for a moment to finish his reading he threw open the door with a flourish, hoping to make an impression. "Ms. Brightstar? I am Delian Skyways, regent of the queen and... Ms. Brightstar?" he queried, finding the room empty. The small bottle of feywine and most of the complimentary crackers and cheeses left for guests were missing, but nobody was here. Delian took a moment to survey the room, looking behind a chair and under a table. Maybe she was inordinately shy, even by jerbeen standards? Had she stepped out? "Up here!" answered a very sing-song voice from the upper rafters of woven branches, startling the sprite for a moment. The errant jerbeen was up there, lounging amidst the branches with the bottle of wine in one hand and a thimble-sized cup in the other. She stood up, took a long swig from the cup, and leaned forward until she fell, long silvery hair flowing in a cascade behind her. Delian reacted with shock but the jerbeen flipped forward and nimbly landed on her feet, turning the bottle as she did so as not to spill a drop. She offered a flourish of her own as she landed, seemingly proud of her feat of acrobatics even though jumping from place to place was as natural to a jerbeen as walking. "Half-empty bottle, refill my cup, funny how fae-folk never think to look up!" she giggled, twirling in place as she poured more of the feywine into her cup and took a swig. "You know you're pretty cute for a sprite, and I'm not just saying that 'cause I've been drinking," she continued, giving the sprite a mischievous grin as Delian shifted uncomfortably. "So let me guess, you're here to ask why I've volunteered and what makes me think I'd be - I already told him!" she begins, interrupting herself mid-speech to yell at something or someone beside her even though there wasn't anything there, nothing visible at least. With an annoyed huff she turns back to the sprite to continue as though nothing had happened. "It's because I've been gifted magic from the Elder Tree itself for just this purpose, to bring the green light of the fae where darkness dares to play! It speaks through me and - I'm not doing that, even if he is cute! You're such a lush! Maybe later," she continues, once more interrupting herself to yell at thin air, something Delian just had to watch with a confused expression. "That isn't the tree talking, ancient fae spirits speak through me too and some of them are annoying. But that is why I'm here and that's why I've volunteered, because the Elder Tree sent me," she said with a smile, as though it were the most logical thing imaginable. To her it was the only option, as the Elder Tree has made clear.

[RJonesy]

Walter Walter Willowthorne Age: 22 Race: Hedge Class: Wild Magic Sorcerer Alignment: Neutral Good Background: Anthropologist/ Outlander Appearance Deep laugh lines crease the soft leathery skin of Walter’s face. His eyes sparkle with a brightness that always seems to be on the edge of revealing a private joke. A long cloak of supple burgundy cloth, tied loosely around his shoulders, is filled with pockets to accommodate all of the bright and interesting objects that he collects on his travels. A worn satchel of woven bark is slung across his chest, keeping his precious traveling journal, ink pots, and pens close at hand. Personality No matter what creature he is with, and where in the Wylde Wood he may be, Walter always has a knack for putting others at ease. He loves to learn about the other inhabitants of his land and is always quick with a question, though he may become distracted while listening to the answer. Continually attentive to the world around him, Walter will often have his nose buried deep in the pages of his battered leather journal, taking copious notes on the fascinating interactions that he sees being played out before him. Background   Trait 1: I would risk life and limb to discover a new culture or unravel the secrets of a dead one. Trait 2: I’m always picking things up, absently fiddling with them, and sometimes accidentally breaking them Ideal: By understanding other races and cultures, we learn to understand ourselves. Bond: My mentor gave me a journal filled with lore and wisdom. Losing it would devastate me. Flaw: I’ve picked up some unpleasant habits living among such races as lizardfolk and beetles. The story of Walter   Walter was born as the middle hedge in a family of seven, and he’s always gotten a bit lost in the shuffle. Growing up in his family’s bustling home, affectionately termed Tumbledown Den, was an exercise in acrobatic violations of personal space. Loud and full of love, Walter’s youth was a riotous clamor of dirty paws and broken quills. As a young hedge he’d always been curious. He would spend his days belly down in the dirt, examining the worlds he found under lifted-up rocks. At night he’d lay on his back, gazing up into the bright splash of spinning galaxies moving across the dark sky. His mother liked to tell the story of how he’d spent hours following a line of leaf-cutter ants back to their underground lair, only to collapse the whole tunnel system by digging underneath because he “wanted to see what it looked like from the inside.” As he grew in size, his curiosity grew in proportion. Walter began to wander further and further afield, always looking for new creatures and new places to explore. He began spending days, and then weeks, living with creatures outside of the hedge community. He traveled for a season with a roaming troupe of performing Vulpins, and at one point he spent a month living with a reclusive clan of glowing nocturnal beetles. Eventually though, he always returns to the warmth of Tumbledown Den, the smells and noises of home enveloping him in a familiar embrace. The full truth however, is that there is another reason that Walter never stays at home for long. All of his six brothers and sisters have learned to channel the power of the Elder Tree by serving as Druidic keepers of the Wylde Wood. Early in his life however Walter realized that his power was more… erratic. Despite his best intentions the young hedge found that, while the power he channels to wield the tree’s magic is strong, it is often unpredictable, and at times even dangerous. When Walter had heard the rumors of the growing darkness he'd not wanted to believe at first, though he too had detected a subtle change in the very air of the Wylde Woods. When the call from Queen Lumina was sent out Walter did not hesitate, knowing that at last he would have the chance to use his abilities to protect his home and protect his family. A day in the life   “Try again now young one, and this time allow your energy to flow inside the seed.” Orion, the grey plumaged Luma serving as Walter’s tutor, shuffled a few steps back on his perch and looked at the young hedge expectantly. They’d spent the afternoon in the shade of a large oak, not far from Walter’s den, where Orion was trying to teach the novice to use his power to sprout a fallen acorn. The wise bird’s words rattled in Walter’s brain as he stared hard at the nut. “Just open yourself up and let the power of the elder tree flow through you. It should feel as natural as breathing.” Walter was briefly distracted as the dark silhouette of a soaring raptor blinked across the brightness of the late afternoon sun. “What if it doesn’t work for me?” Walter asked dejectedly, “what if I just can’t do it?” The stern bird offered no reply other than a slight tap of an impatient talon on the branch above. With a quiet sigh Walter turned back to the acorn. Breathing deeply he rested his paws on the acorn's smooth exterior. He pictured in his mind the power of the elder tree moving from the ground below, flowing through his arms, and into the seed. He envisioned the tiny spark of life coming gently awake, spreading the shell’s hard exterior and sending up a thin tendril of life up towards the waiting sunlight. His small eyes scrunched closed, deep in concentration. It was at that moment that Walter felt a sharp crack and was thrown violently back, falling hard into the dirt. Through squinted eyes Walter looked up and saw the acorn, or what was left of it. Charred pieces of nut shell and sat smoldering in a blackened crater, some bits were still alight with a simmering blue flame. Looking sheepishly at Orion, the hedge saw with alarm that the Luma had only just managed to smother a spot on his tail plumage that had caught fire from a stray piece of flaming nut. Walters shoulders drooped, his eyes cast down towards the dirt. “I tried Orion, I really did. I thought I could control it this time, but maybe I just never will.” The young Hedge’s mind reeled with his past attempts. There was the time he turned all of his quills blue for an entire week, there was also the day where he’d accidentally reduced an entire elm tree to a pile of pink feathers. He’d had many failures, some more spectacular than others. To the hedge’s surprise though, Orion did not look upset, although Walter did think that he looked just a little bit sad. "I think young one, there may be a different path for you. Come walk with me..." Years later Walter would look back at the afternoon under the oak tree as a defining moment in his life. It marked a turning point for him; when he knew for certain that his life would diverge from the rest of his family. Orion had guided him gently but firmly that day, and under his ongoing tutelage Walter began to understand and wield the power that dwelt in him. Being different from those he loved was hard to accept but, with time, it was a reality that he learned to embrace. CHARACTER SHEET: http://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=83021

[Baxder]

Lienda Name: Lienda Age: 26 Race: Red-Feather Raptor Class: Rogue/Assassin Alignment: NG Background: Urban Bounty Hunter Character Appearance: Lienda is tall for her kind, especially being female, standing nearly a full two feet tall. She is also slight of frame, weighing 15 pounds. Her plumage is dark; her body mostly black with the occasional row of golden yellow feathers, her head ruddy brown, and her wing and tail feathers deep mahogany. As a matter of pride and professionalism, she maintains a dignified appearance both on and off the job. For the latter, she wears dark brown leather armor and carries a rapier, dagger, and short bow. Her forehead is always adorned with a semi-precious stone set in gold and bound by a leather thong headband. The stone varies in color, depending on her feelings about the bounty she earned to purchase it. Currently, it is a lapis. She is careful to carry herself well and rather fastidious, as quick to spot a misplaced feather as a quarry, and equally on guard against both. Even more so, she guards the key tattoo on the pad of her right forefinger from view at all times. Character Personality: Lienda is cautiously outgoing and slow to trust, but recognizes the value of true companions and holds them very dear, especially elders who she can come to respect. She takes great pride in her work and is a bastion of professionalism among her typically unscrupulous peers. On the job, her focus is nearly unshakable, the task at hand sometimes consuming her to the fault of impatience with her comrades. Still, she values downtime as a welcome break from such intensity and an opportunity to prove that she isn't a complete hard-tail. Two Traits: Lienda abhors criminal behavior, almost as a personal affront to her dignity, which she values above anything else. One Ideal: Innocense; someone must protect it from those who would take it too soon. One Bond: Vindication for a past she feels she didn't deserve, and vengeance upon those whom she blames for it. One Flaw: Lienda is regularly required to deal with the very elements she fears will one day catch up with her. Backstory: Lienda had been raised to believe it was all her fault. Her alcoholic father blamed her for the death of her mother, who died during her laying. He blamed her for his subsequent fall from riches and high society into destitution when he turned to drink to ease his grief. He blamed her when he would run out of liquor because she hadn't peddled enough that day for him to buy more. It was one of those days when she last saw him. He had thrown her back onto the street that night, along with her little tin cup, demanding she not return until she had enough for another bottle. The streets were no place for a fledgling girl at night though; she had seen what could become of them when caught near the wrong alley on any given night. In her desperation to accomplish her goal quickly and get off the dangerous, darkening streets she took to the standby of cutting purses. The first victim she chose was not what he seemed. As his purse fell away she found herself caught in his clutches, the mark on his finger identifying him as a member of a powerful thieves guild. To be caught by a noble often garnered sympathy at her age, a merchant might give a good scolding, and a commoner a good beating. The worst was to be nabbed by the city guard and put in the poorhouse for a night and spend it at the mercy of her peers. But the thieves guild played no such games with pity or subtlety. To be caught by them was to lose a finger; the same finger they used to identify themselves with the key tattoo, just like the one on the finger that held her fast that night. Much to her surprise though, this thief allowed her to keep her finger in exchange for service in the guild. Turns out her attempt at robbing this particular thief, Ramad, was exceptional, and he took her on as his apprentice. Unfortunately, his service in the guild was cut short by a job gone awry from which he never returned. She remained in the guild's service for years afterward as a housemaid and runner, and though she had shown some promise under Ramads tutelage, no other members would take her on as their apprentice. As she matured she began to be noticed for more than her purse-cutting skills, and though her status in the guild protected her from the interests of the members, those in power took notice nonetheless. On her 10th anniversary in the guild's service, she was promised a new opportunity for full membership. Since her days under Ramad, she had wanted nothing more. It seemed her greatest dream was coming true. But it was nothing but a lie. At the supposed location of the big revelation of how she was to earn her membership, she overheard the leaders of the guild closing the deal on her sale as a prostitute. Her dream crushed, her trust in the only family she had known for 10 years shattered, she fled. Having been in a dressing room of a questionable inn when she heard the news, she donned an outfit befitting her would-be profession and escaped the city, never to look back. She became a vagrant, living on scraps out of garbage piles and peddling like she had done for her horrid father, wallowing in filth and shame. Her surprise and relief were complete when none other than her old mentor, Ramad, again came to her rescue. He found her in her destitution, so low she was near to taking on the despicable role she had fled from being sold into. It turned out he too had been betrayed by the guild, and they still thought him dead at their own hands. He had however become quite the vigilante crime fighter, bent on rectifying his wrongs and avenging his honor on those he blamed for corrupting it. He took her under his wing once again. Leinda again readily took her place in his care and instruction and adopted his mission as her own. She too would become an agent of justice, and would not be satisfied until she had avenged her honor on those who had held it in such contempt. RP Sample: Lienda sat bent over her workbench, her face set in deep concentration as she finished engraving the name of her latest catch on the small gold piece. It would be the setting for the new lapis stone she had bought with the bounty, now lying nearby. That will go well with your eyes, Ramad commented from over her shoulder. That's the idea, she replied as she finished, arching the kink out of her back and picking the piece up to evaluate her work. And those? Ramad asked, pointing to two finished pieces. One was onyx, the other ruby, already set and fastened to leather thongs that she would tie behind her head...Someday. Are they to go with your heart? Lienda was used to such probing from her mentor, but being so focused on her work had left her a bit unguarded. Her head turned in his direction, eyes downcast. You know what they're for...but I suppose they do match the shades of my heart that compliment their purpose. Ramad nodded contemplatively; sagely. So be it. He picked up the lapis, turning it in his fingers to catch the light on its flat cut surfaces. All have such shades, and yours have come to serve you well. He set the stone down where it was and rested his hand on her shoulder. You are ready. She set down the setting and turned towards him, head cocked inquisitively. The Queen's summonsThis is for you. He handed her a royal dispatch, and a response written in his hand. Taking them with much curiosity and a little trepidation, she read them both. After a moment, Lienda set her hands and the letters on her knees and looked up at Ramad, her head cocking into the equivalent of an uncertain smirk. "Ready." By the Tree, I hope so. Ramad clucked lightly at her somewhat pitiful expression, which he found adorable. You are, he chuckled, And besides, I have nothing left to teach you. You have your goals, he continued, gesturing to the two completed headbands, and are capable of achieving them, with honor. Sobering, he knelt beside her to come to eye level. She was near tears, but her smirk was melting into a grateful smile. You cannot exercise the demons of these shades here. My finding you, tutoring you was but the correction of your course. Now you must set upon it. She threw her arms around his neck and let the tears flow, soaking his shoulder with gratitude and love. When her sobs subsided, she let go and wiped her face with a rag from her bench. I owe you so much, she croaked out as she opened a drawer beneath it and lifted out it's false bottom. Inside was a gold ring, with a flattened face engraved with an elaborate V beneath an L. And I know you're not very sentimental, but... She retrieved the ring and presented it to Ramad. I've been saving this for today. Please keep it and know how grateful I am...and that I'll honor you wherever I go. Ramad took the ring without words or expression, put it on and admired the perfect fit and beautiful engraving for a long moment. I am honored, Lienda. Of course, I shall treasure it. He cupped her face with his hand, taking one last good look into her eyes. You are my treasure, he whispered, coming closer to showing his emotions for her than she had ever seen. Before anything else could be said, he rose and walked to the door. Turning before walking out, he parted with a very fond Goodbye. Character Sheet

[JaredSyn]

Character Application Name: Grimroot Age: 42 Race: Leshy Class: Druid (Circle of Spores) Alignment: Neutral Character Appearance: is 2'11" tall and weighs 38 pounds. His coloration varies over his body some areas a dark green others lighter and brighter, his head is primarily more a dark grey. AS common for his kind he looks like a large mushroom upon first seeing him. Character Personality: Grimroot is not a very outgoing individual, he tends to prefer his own company over that of others. Unlike most humblefolk he is fascinated by the circle of life and decay. He is a firm believer that each phase of life leads to the next and the eventual return to the earth to be born again. He does not share the revulsion of the majority upon seeing undeath so long as it is part of the overall process. However undead that have intent of circumventing the cycle are abominations in need of being destroyed. While not very social he is respectful towards others. He has no problem being left to his own machinations, and has no true need for the company of others. When he does make a friend though he is always a generous and kind host or ally. He tends to be more soft spoken than most and only speaks when he feels it is a necessity. This leads others to believe him anti-social. Background: Hermit Traits: I've been isolated for so long that I rarely speak, preferring gestures and the occasional grunt. I'm oblivious to etiquette and social expectations. Ideal: Free Thinking. Inquiry and curiosity are the pillars of progress. Bond: I'm still seeking the enlightenment I pursued in my seclusion, and it still eludes me. Flaw: I am dogmatic in my thoughts and philosophy. Backstory: Grimroot has always been one of the strangest of the creatures who live within the Wylde Wood. Many considering him less than a simple mushroom. Grimroot knows though that he has life for a reason and he intends to prove it. He knows that his purpose in life is to study and learn all he can about the circle of life. All beings are meant to be born, live lives until they die and then decay and return from whence they came only to be born again in another form. All beings live by these same rules no matter the race age affects all in some way shape or form. Grimroot realized early that if he wished to pursue his goals he would have to seek out seclusion, as such he sequestered himself away from most who lived in Wylde Wood, to continue his studies. His isolation left him free to pursue his investigation into the process of life and decay. He was always fascinated by the circle of life. He has found that the study of fungus and molds, can be applied to the creation of abundant of strange but fascinating types of life. His small home in the middle of a dying tree, serving his purposes perfectly. The withering of certain aspects of the tree lending to his studies. Grimroot was named such due to his constant serious nature when he was among the people of the Wylde wood. Truth be told Grimroot was thoroughly surprised when he received a summons by Queen Lumina. Still the test of her summons to seek out and find lost scouts, and the darkness that was falling over their isle. Even in his isolation he has seen signs of the darkness and it had piqued his curiosity. He was eager to learn if this invading darkness was natural or unnatural. If it is not part of the natural cycle then it is his duty to investigate it's origin and if necessary stop it from taking hold. He is not thrilled about the need to work with others, but sees the value of having others along. It is after all the Queen's wish for them to work together as a team to solve the dilemma. RP Sample: Grimroot continued climbing upward in the tree that he had made his home shortly after arriving in the isolated part of the wood that most considered haunted or evil. Grimroot on the other hand knew the truth it was simply a part of the forest that was in the final stages of it's life and approaching its rebirth. Climbing up quickly he stopped as he found what he sought a strange fungus growing from the dying upper branches of the tree. He had never found such fungus anywhere else and it fascinated him. Collecting several samples with his deft fingers he placed them into his pouch. Satisfied he left the remaining fungus where they were he knew sooner than later he would require more and it was best to allow them to grow freely. Climbing back down he entered his small home and moved to the vials and containers on his small work bench. Pulling out the fungus and setting it down he began to mix some with fresh water, planting another in a small pot of soil, and then yet another on a piece of bark which had fallen from the very tree he lived inside of. As he did so he wrote down his detailed notes, documenting every stage and step of his process. Satisfied with his work, he stepped back looking at the fungus of course it would take time to fully understand the fungus and how it best thrived, smiling he moved back over to the single chair inside his home and sat down reading his previous notes and making adjustments as needed.

Statblock   Grimroot Level 1 Druid (Circle of Spores) Leshy (Fungal) (Small), Neutral AC 14 | HP 10/10 | Condition None | Hit Dice 1/5 (d8) | Initiative +2 | Speed 25 ft | Inspiration No | Proficiency Bonus +2 | Passive Perception 14 STR 10(+0) | DEX 14(+2) | CON 14(+2) | INT 13(+1) | WIS 15(+2) | CHA 8(-1) Saving Throws Str +0, Dex +2, Con +2, Int +3, Wis +5, Cha -1 Skill Proficiencies Medicine +5 | Nature +3 | Perception +3 | Religion +3 | Feats and Special Abilities Light, Medium, ShieldArmor Proficiencies | Club, Daggger, Dart, Javelin, Mace, Quarterstaff, Scimitar, Sickle, Sling, SpearWeapon Proficiencies | Alchemists Supplies, Herbalism Kit, Tool and Instrument Proficiencies | Common, Druidic, Elvish, Plantspeech, SylvanLanguages | You gain nourishment in the same way that the plants or fungi that match your body type normally do, through some combination of photosynthesis, absorbing minerals with your roots, or scavenging decaying matter. You typically do not need to pay for food. If you normally rely on photosynthesis and go without sunlight for 1 week, you begin to starve. You can derive nourishment from the Daylight spell instead of natural sunlight.Plant Nourishment | You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. You can't discern color in darkness, only shades of gray. Darkvision | Like any other creature, when a Leshy is brought to zero or fewer hit points, they fall unconscious and must pass three death saves in order to stabilize. However, as soon as they fail a single death save, they instantly die. The only remnant of them is a fist-sized seed, and if planted near the base of the Elder Tree, the Leshy will grow back in 24 hours with all of the same memories, feats, skills, and abilities as before. If a Leshy’s seed is destroyed, or goes for 1 week without being planted, it dies and can never regrow. Leshies are immune to the Resurrect and Animate Dead spells (as well as any spell that would effect their corpse, like Speak with Dead), but they can instantly regrow with the Reincarnate spell. However the table of potential new bodies is limited to the list of Leshy subraces.Immortal Seed | Because of their connection to and their ability to draw energy from the natural world, Leshies do not need to rest for a full eight hours like most humanoids. This trait is functionally identical to an Elf's Trance trait, with the exception that Leshies also do not need to eat, although they still need clean water as any other humanoid does. Additionally, if a Leshy's connection to the natural power around them in hampered in some way, such as from their Metal Anathema, they lose the benefits of this trait. They are unable to trance, and may eventually starve.Natural Sustenance | All Leshies draw power and sustainance from the natural world around them. They have a series of spells they can innately cast that varies depending on their form, but if they carry anything that would interrupt that connection they become weakened or irate, and lose these abilities. If a Leshy is wearing armor or wielding anything made of metal, it loses its ability to cast any of its innate spells. Coins and jewelry typically do not effect Leshies.Metal Anethema | Innate Magic Choose one spell to know at character creation from each group: Can cast either the Poison Spray or Resistance cantrip at will Can cast either Chill Touch or Spare the Dying cantrip at will can cast either Sleep or False Life 1/dayInnate Magic | Physical Melee Attack Bonus: +2, Finesse +2 | Ranged Attack Bonus: +5 Attacks: +2 1d4 SimpleClub | +5 1d6 Range (30)Thorn Whip | +2 1d4+2 Simple, Light, Thrown, Range (60/120)Boomerang | Magical Spell Attribute Modifier: +3, Spell Save DC: 13 | Spell Attack Bonus: +5 Spell Slots: 1st level2/2 | Spells Prepared: Cantrips: Casting Time: 1 action Range: 120 feet Components: V, S Duration: 1 round You create a ghostly, skeletal hand in the space of a creature within range. Make a ranged spell attack against the creature to assail it with the chill of the grave. On a hit, the target takes 1d8 necrotic damage, and it can’t regain hit points until the start of your next turn. Until then, the hand clings to the target. If you hit an undead target, it also has disadvantage on attack rolls against you until the end of your next turn. This spell’s damage increases by 1d8 when you reach 5th level (2d8), 11th level (3d8), and 17th level (4d8).Chill Touch | Casting Time: 1 action Range/Area: 60ft./5ft. Components: V, S Duration: Concentration, up to 1 minute Attack/Save: DEX 13 Source: EE, pg. 152 You create a bonfire on ground that you can see within range. Until the spell ends, the magic bonfire fills a 5-foot cube. Any creature in the bonfire’s space when you cast the spell must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or take 1d8 fire damage. A creature must also make the saving throw when it moves into the bonfire’s space for the first time on a turn or ends its turn there. The bonfire ignites flammable objects in its area that aren’t being worn or carried. The spell’s damage increases by 1d8 when you reach 5th level (2d8), 11th level (3d8), and 17th level (4d8).Create Bonfire | Casting Time: 1 action Range: 10 feet Components: V, S Duration: Instantaneous You extend your hand toward a creature you can see within range and project a puff of noxious gas from your palm. The creature must succeed on a Constitution saving throw or take 1d12 poison damage. This spell’s damage increases by 1d12 when you reach 5th level (2d12), 11th level (3d12), and 17th level (4d12).Poison Spray | Casting Time: 1 action Range: 30 feet Components: V, S, M (the stem of a plant with thorns) Duration: Instantaneous You create a long, vine-like whip covered in thorns that lashes out at your command toward a creature in range. Make a melee spell attack against the target. If the attack hits, the creature takes 1d6 piercing damage, and if the creature is Large or smaller, you pull the creature up to 10 feet closer to you. This spell’s damage increases by 1d6 when you reach 5th level (2d6), 11th level (3d6), and 17th level (4d6).Thorn Whip 1st level: Casting Time: 1 action Range: Touch Components: V, S, M (a sprig of mistletoe) Duration: Instantaneous Up to ten berries appear in your hand and are infused with magic for the duration. A creature can use its action to eat one berry. Eating a berry restores 1 hit point, and the berry provides enough nourishment to sustain a creature for one day. The berries lose their potency if they have not been consumed within 24 hours of the casting of this spell.Good Berry | Casting Time: 1 action Range/Area: 90ft./20ft. Components: V, S Duration: Concentration, up to 1 minute Attack/Save: STR 13 Source: PHB, pg. 238 Grasping weeds and vines sprout from the ground in a 20-foot square starting from a point within range. For the duration, these plants turn the ground in the area into difficult terrain. A creature in the area when you cast the spell must succeed on a Strength saving throw or be restrained by the entangling plants until the spell ends. A creature restrained by the plants can use its action to make a Strength check against your spell save DC. On a success, it frees itself. When the spell ends, the conjured plants wilt away.Entangle | (Once per day)"]Casting Time: 1 action Range: 90 feet Components: V, S, M (a pinch of fine sand, rose petals, or a cricket) Duration: 1 minute This spell sends creatures into a magical slumber. Roll 5d8; the total is how many hit points of creatures this spell can affect. Creatures within 20 feet of a point you choose within range are affected in ascending order of their current hit points (ignoring unconscious creatures). Starting with the creature that has the lowest current hit points, each creature affected by this spell falls unconscious until the spell ends, the sleeper takes damage, or someone uses an action to shake or slap the sleeper awake. Subtract each creature’s hit points from the total before moving on to the creature with the next lowest hit points. A creature’s hit points must be equal to or less than the remaining total for that creature to be affected. Undead and creatures immune to being charmed aren’t affected by this spell. At Higher Levels. When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 2nd level or higher, roll an additional 2d8 for each slot level above 1st.Sleep |

[Drachenspirit]

Application Name: Akemah <--- Character Sheet Age: 15 Race: Vulpin Class: Rogue Alignment: CN Background: Charlatan Character Appearance: Akemah stands three inches under 4' tall, and has the look and build of a typically healthy Vulpin. She wears simple leather armor and is adorned with no less than 4 blades. A Rapier is sheathed on her hip, a shortsword is sheathed and strapped to her pack, and two daggers are sheathed and lashed to the colorful green sash at her waist. Character Personality: Akemah is downright lovable, or at least that's how she comes across when you first meet her. She's been called terminally pretty, and despite her razor sharp teeth she has a disarming smile. She is very articulate when speaking, seems to know a bit about everything, especially documents and such. In truth, she's always on the look out for easy coin, and sometimes for coin the hard way if it is exciting enough. TRAITS - I keep multiple holy symbols on me and invoke whatever deity might come in useful at any given moment. I have a joke for every occasion, especially occasions where humor is inappropriate. IDEAL - I am a free spirit— no one tells me what to do. BOND - I owe everything to my mentor—a horrible person who’s probably rotting in jail somewhere. FLAW - I'm always in debt. I spend my ill-gotten gains on decadent luxuries faster than I bring them in. Backstory: Akemah has been bouncing around from town to city to village and anywhere there's a group of people who can be separated from their coin by any means necessary are friendly. Somehow finding herself broke again, she sees the opportunity to grab countless coin help out others and herself a little with the open invitation to steal adventure and get paid for it. RP Sample: "I've got five on it!", she calls out from her place sleeping outside a dear friend's tent - but that's another story for another time. From the campfire, someone comments that she doesn't have five coins to put in on the collection to go to town and buy some provisions for the group of vagabonds living outside the town. She jumps up and goes to the fire, knowing now she will be welcome as long as she can keep the talk moving. "Who said anything about coin? I meant I have five deft fingers to add to the provision gathering. I'll also add my charm and wit to any bartering done and I can guarantee that alone will save the group's purse more than 5 coins. Wait, wait!", she said, holding up a clawed finger at the two "friends" who were about to interrupt and say it was a bad idea. "Some might think I have an angle here, and wish to use this opportunity for my own gain. Now, that hurts. Really. Didn't I get us that nice tent that I'm not allowed to sleep in?" She pointed to the tent that had clear markings of the Duke of Forsham, meaning it would be ill advised to show it in any civilized area, but she didn't dwell on that. "Did I not get us that letter of Marque from that Duke that will gain us favor in oh so many places? There are other things I have done for this group that are too many in number too mention, so all I ask is to accompany whoever is going and add my skills to any deals made and then simply share of tonight's meal and the one in the morning. Then, I'll be on my way. What harm can there be in that?" They hadn't used the letter yet, so they didn't know it was a forgery. If they did in town, she'd have to think quick. Some might consider slipping away once she hit town with the group gathering provisions, but where was the fun in that? Nods in the affirmative responded all around to her comments, though some nodding were frowning with reluctance. A group of two were chosen to go, and they gathered their gear. Strapping on her own gear she went to the young male Raptor who wasn't the one carrying the coin purse and put on all her charm and persuasion, even casting a spell of charm on him when she was sure none of the others could see her. She placed a soft hand on his shoulder and said, 'You know, it's all the same to me, but do you trust Kitfin there to carry the coin purse? You should keep an eye on him just to be safe. Best thing for everyone."