[Characters] The Blackguard

[Silent Rain]

Place a copy of your original application here.

[lydklein]

Kezaiah Ascher Name: Kezaiah Ascher Background: CartographerOutlander Class: Wanderer Description/Personality: Those who first meet Kezaiah will describe her as a stoic, focused woman, dedicated to serving her time with as much dignity as circumstances allow her. The very few who have worked with her long enough have glimpsed the remnants of grief in her expression. She isn’t selfish with a smile, but they never quite reach her amber eyes, that can only be described as somber. Everyone can agree on one thing. She is a steadfast woman always willing to stand with an ally. Practical, she wears her dark hair in a simple braid, and does her best to always be ready for whatever the day might send her way. She dresses in dark, clean leathers when not wearing more comfortable traveling clothes. A tall woman, with quick reflexes, she uses her ease of movement to her advantage in battle.   History: My name is Kezaiah Ascher. Growing up, I never felt that I belonged there. Thankfully, the gods had foresight enough to bless me, or curse depending on the day, with four other siblings. They were good to me and we kept each other company when the other children in town ignored us. Most thought us odd and stayed away from us in our early years. Our parents, bless them, had made a home for themselves near the Fae Woods in Denly. There, things were done differently than where I spent my adolescence. Every aspect of our lives was done with the nearness of Woods close by. Everything from our clothes to our speech was affected by the former influence of the fae’s presence. See, I was born among the last of those who could claim any fae ancestry. Half-breeds and those left behind when the Fae Queen withdrew her armies. No one talked to us about why they were left behind or maybe they simply refused to speak of it to the only humans around. As rambunctious as we were, we did ask. Many, many times. I probably asked the most if I’m being honest. My determination was always my most troubling quality. My parents, Udo and Cora Ascher, were both well respected Treasure Hunters once upon a time. They had retired and become cattle farmers. Our life was fairly simple. Our evenings were filled with different tales of their days out in the world searching for some treasure or lost person. Every now and again an old friend of theirs would come to visit regaling us with new versions of those same tales. Our home had been filled with love, laughter and the ceaseless energy of four rambunctious children trying to relive the adventures of our parents. Until it wasn’t. Until, an old friend showed up one day. He spoke of things I didn’t understand. Things that caused our parents to chase us out of the house suddenly. I don’t remember much after that. Only that they sat us down and told us that they were leaving with their friend for a few days. A week at the most. My oldest brother was in charge until then and we needed to keep close to the house until they returned. One week turned into two. Two was threatening to turn into three when our aunt Rosalie showed up one. I guess Ma had written to her the day they left and asked her to stay with us. She stayed with us for another two weeks, before she packed us up and took us to stay with her. I miss those days in Denby. Aunt Rosalie left word in town of where we were going. My brother left a written note on the table for them in the hopes that they would return. Now here I am, sitting in a beat up little tavern, in some backwater town I’ve never heard of, thinking about a man whose face and name I can’t remember, wondering if I’ll ever see my family again. What am I doing here you ask? Well, to begin with, I came here by way of Mareles Fields. A bit far from Denby, truth be told, but it’s a nice enough place, I suppose. If you were born there. Though, looking about, it’s definitely much more civilized than this place. I don’t think it’s large enough to be on a map, honestly. My aunt and her husband lived in a nice enough little place in Mareles Fields. Although there were many of us we lived decently. We always had food, clothes and warm beds. The culture shock was something else though. As I may have said earlier, we were the weird children that no one wanted to befriend for most of my childhood. I was nine years old when I moved there. My little brother had an easier time acclimating to the new culture. It helped that he was only 7 at the time. Still young enough to adapt to new ways. My older brothers and I spent most days helping in my uncle’s store, so we didn’t really miss out on much play time. We- I was still hoping our parents would show up. They never did. I was 16 before I made my first real friend. His name was Pimbyr. He was new to town and it showed. I knew what it was like to be a stranger so I made sure to say hello whenever we crossed paths. Little by little we struck up a friendship. He was a contradiction in personality. He was kind and stern; gentle and harsh; funny and stoic all at the same time. Everything new to him was a wonder. Life became an adventure for me again and I cherished Pimbyr for it. We remained friends for years even well after I decided to take an apprenticeship in the next town over. He knew how much losing my parents had impacted my family. Although he never spoke of it, he also seemed to understand the pain of that loss. Not knowing what had led to their disappearances is what kept me up. I spent my nights drawing scenes of all the possible reasons they never returned. Even though I knew that they were dead, part of me still held out a bit of hope. I suppose that’s what led me to studying under the Master Cartographer Gar Mazon. I was 18 when I was accepted as Master Gar’s apprentice. We traveled afield for the next ten years before we were forced to return to Mareles Field. We had run into some trouble in the West, I’ll not say where as to not spread unnecessary ill will, due to an honest misunderstanding. It seems he was mistaken for a local lothario and received a beating meant for this other fellow. As his companion, I, of course, met with some of the blows as well. It seems growing up rough-housing with three brothers and an equally rough sister, had prepared me well for the outside world. Unfortunately, Master Gar ended up with the worst of it. One of the half drunk louts broke his leg in the fight. Although the local healer tried to reset it, the leg never healed right. He ended up with a painful limp that forced him into an early retirement. He died a handful of years later in his sleep. Over that decade wandering the land and charting new territory, Pimbyr and I had kept in touch. Upon my return I learned just how much he had missed my company. Not a season had passed before we were engaged. He never tried to curb my need to work and chart what I could of the world. We married in the winter, despite what my aunt, uncle and sister attempt at dissuading us. Winter was Pimbyr’s favorite season and it is when we first met. So, we married, built up a business with my brother Stanek. He was a skilled guide who was more than capable of leading caravans through the mountains. Sometimes, we would join him to places we had never been. I would chart it and Pim would log it in one of his numerous journals he so loved. I called it his treasure. He would correct me and say that I was his treasure, the journals were his “hoard”. We were good together. The business was doing well too. Until, it wasn’t. A group of Blackguards had hired us to provide a map to some place I can’t even remember the name of anymore. All I remember is that they needed to scout the area, but had no more information to help them reach the location. The captain refused to divulge any more information than that. Unfortunately, we had no maps to give him, so we offered to guide him instead. The plan was for Stanek to guide them while I mapped the way and provided them with a map for their return. They agreed so long as we followed their orders. We, not wanting to cross the king’s men, aka convicted criminals, agreed to their terms. Pim joined us, as he could no longer bear being far from me since my return. I wish he hadn’t. The trip became a nightmare. One that I still have not awoken from nor shall I. We had reached the foot of the mountain the Guard had been ordered to. Soon, we were to turn back home, leaving them with a copy of the map I had been hired to make. It was late and it was decided that it was best to make camp for the night and turn around in the morning. Two of the men were sent ahead to scout and disappeared into the night by the time I made myself comfortable. I had not slept long when Pimbyr shook me awake, a finger to his mouth. One of the guards was putting out the fire as the rest stood with weapons drawn looking out into the dark. I stood as quietly as I could, my husband standing between me and the night. If he had hackles they would have been raised. In the tense dark, a low rumble broke the stillness, followed by the sound of creaking branches. The noise echoed through the trees making it difficult for any of us to pinpoint the source. Then chaos shattered the tense quiet of the moment. From the right, blackguard men were thrown dozens of feet back. The sound of bones breaking was quickly drowned out by the war cry of men who knew they were facing death. It seemed that the Blackguard had been sent out on what amounted to a suicide mission. Out from between the trees stepped forward a blue dragon. Thinking back, from it’s size it looked to be very young, but to me, at that moment, it was monstrous. I may have screamed. I don’t recall. It’s all a blur of bodies and violence and screams and my husband’s back as he shielded me. Until it wasn’t. A soldier’s body was tossed in our direction, knocking us both down. My husband, my dear sweet, overprotective scholar of a husband, had had enough. He looked me over, anger written over every feature and line on his face frightened me. It didn’t register in that moment, but I shouldn’t have been able to see the color of his silver eyes so well. There was an unspoken apology there beside the anger before he turned and began rushing forward. Towards the murderous beast. The beast was turning towards us when Pimbyr called out to the blue in a voice far too large for a man. "THIS ONE IS MINE!" His body began to shimmer. His shape warped and grew until he was no longer a man, but a very large silver dragon. I remained frozen in place. Shocked into stillness. Far too close to this fight that never should have been. My brother, who had been injured without my knowing, made his way to me, dragging me as far away as he could drag me with his wounds. In the end it wasn’t far enough. I cannot recall the details of the fight after that. I only remember the aftermath. My brother lay dying beside me, the blue was eviscerated and the scouts, who had returned upon hearing the screams of their companions were staring up at a massive Silver transforming back into a man. In their adrenaline fueled state, they did not seem to care that he was not the one they sought. All they knew was that their men were dead and one of their guides was really a dragon. With weapons drawn, they charged Pimbyr, piercing him several times. The wounds forced him to return to his natural form, further fueling their fear. I, on the other hand, saw two armed men trying to kill my husband. I had no choice. Not then. I doubt I ever would have a choice. Pimbyr was trying not to fight them. He had already been hurt from his fight earlier, and the wounds being done by the sworn men were not small ones. I could only think to protect my dearest friend and love."RUUUNNNN!!!!" I screamed, the echo bouncing off of the land around me. I picked the closest thing to me and charged towards the soldiers. It just so happened that what I picked up was a small crossbow. A crossbow whose bolt I loosened at a Blackguard. A bolt that wounded that Blackguard. That wound would later become infected, killing that man. I was subsequently arrested and taken into custody. My brother died on that field. My husband made his escape, thankfully. And I am, now myself, a sworn Blackguard, condemned to serve the King and Kingdom for all of my days. Until I can't.

OOC and Blocks   Action: Bonus Action: Free Action: Movement: Reaction: Condition: Dice Rolls:   Statistics Block Kezaiah Ascher HP: 11/11 AC: 16 PP: 15 Initiative: +3 Speed: 30ft Information Ability Scores Str +0 Dex +3 Con +1 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1 Saves Str +2 Dex +3 Con +3 Int +1 Wis +3 Cha -1 Ranged +5 Melee +2 Weapons Longbow, Shortbow, Dagger, Broadsword 4 Skills Animal Handling: +5 Insight: +5 Investigation: +3 Nature +3 Perception +5 Stealth +5 Survival +5 Proficiencies Acrobatics: +2 Acrobatics: +3 Lore: +1 Athletics: +0 Deception: -1 History: +1 Intimidation: -1 Investigation: +0 Medicine: +3 Performance: -1 Persuasion: -1 Religion: +1 Sleight of Hand: +3 Fae Lore: +1 Other Skills   PP 0 GP 4 EP 0 SP 0 CP 0 Currency

[Saratek]

 

Frederick Character Sheet Background: Soldier Class: Warrior Description/Personality   It was never so much his height that drew attention to him in a crowd, but the redness of the hair atop it when he wasn't wearing a helm. Frederick came a long way from the skinny, awkward kid he was to become the imposing figure he is now. While not overly broad, or brooding for that matter, as others in his (former) line of work, there is no doubting by the look in his gaze nor the steadiness of his voice that he is a man that has seen many battles despite his age. The soldier does not wear his youth well. Having never had much, and growing up in a home where sharing was mandatory, Frederick is always sure to keep his arms, armor, and clothing as clean as he can, no matter how plain or simple they may be. Even when it is uncalled for, he takes special care to always present himself in the best way possible, both through his groomed appearance and engaging, bordering on friendly demeanor. Despite what he's seen, and now the situation he finds himself in, he does his best to treat everyone with respect until they give him a reason not to. Having always either been in a large household or part of a company of soldiers, Frederick is cautious with his words; understanding of how tensions in confined groups are always teetering on a fine edge. He tends to 'seek the peace' in a situation, knowing well that bloodshed is not the answer, though one that occurs too often. While this measured approach led him to recognition before, the man's honor was also what led him to swear the oath he did, even if Valencia was the cause of his unjust conviction. History   Frederick had heard the story more times than he can remember. He still remembers the day the sheriff's men came to take his father away, despite the age he was at the time. While both of his blood siblings had been aware of their mother being missing, all three had discussed their perspectives of that morning numerous times with each other over the years after being taken in by the neighboring family. They were not of the belief their father did what was whispered about, but he'd been long lost, leaving both of the trio's parents as a slowly fading memory. Artem and Mildred Westberry were lovely people who loved their children dearly, including the ones they took in. Cariel, Frederick and Gregor joining Wilhelm, Parsafal and Roden brought the household to eight, which certainly made for cramped corridors growing up, but the family appreciated the extra hands when it came to their farm. With the addition of the acreage, the family always had enough to survive, even if their home became a collection of 'additions' to accommodate the massive family, especially when little Gwenhwyfar came. It had been a surprise when Wilhelm decided to leave, even though he'd been handling Market Duties with Cariel for some time. There'd never been any sense he was unhappy, so all it could be attributed to was wanderlust. To his credit, Cariel shone in his duties, turning from being a regular presence at the market to working directly for the village council to govern all commerce that went on within the fiefdom. That didn't mean that Cariel didn't continue to sell the family's goods. He just had people for that now. Frederick hadn't intended to draw his 'harvest twin' of a younger brother with him when he decided to leave the family farm. Gregor, a kind soul, had no clue what he was getting into when he enlisted with the mercenary company. While Frederick thrived, even showing promise that led to him training under numerous 'masters' of their disciplines, Gregor didn't make it two weeks before he was kicked out and told to find another path in life. Luckily for him, the grunts had tossed him directly into guild mason who subsequently dusted the young man off and took him out for an ale to nurse his bruises. While he never imagined that enlisting would become a career, especially when he had originally done so in hopes of glory and riches, Frederick found his place on the battlements and bandit-riddled roads. Unlike the average soldier, he and his comrades went for the highest bidder, which also meant they were more disposable, as there was no need to pay a dead man. While Frederick might have been a model soldier, not the same could be said for all those within the company. There was not a year where there wasn't some controversy or outcry from locals about 'thuggish behavior and cruelty' even if there was never any claim made against him. It was only a matter of time. Greed was a powerful motivator, and Frederick, honorable to a fault, was a perfect patsy. The company had been told the encampment was that of bridgands that were terrorizing villagers and travelers, doing horrifying and defile things to them. What the company found, however, was a camp of rebels; families of the convicted that refused to watch their kin fall under the blade. Those rebels were willing to fight back, and it wasn't until almost all of them had been cut down that a dying man revealed the truth to the hardened mercenaries. An argument, one on the merits of honor over duty, quickly led to Frederick having to defend himself against two of his own that he'd long beside. As he stood over their bodies, surrounded by the mass of civilians the company had cut down, the king's forces arrived on scene just in time to point the finger at the only man left. Being accused and summarily convicted of crimes for which we was not entirely guilty, it wasn't until he found himself in the dark cells that he learned such was not an uncommon practice. The offer had seemed too good to be true, but Frederick could not find any reason to decline it. Even if he could never be sure what he would be ordered to do, serving in an army was an easy choice for the former mercenary. While he'd heard whispers of the 'Oathstone' and the fealty given to it, he didn't believe that such 'magic' was possible. Frederick wouldn't realize it until it was too late, but that which he was so willing to give himself to in exchange for the mere semblance of freedom was far beyond anything the hardened man could comprehend. He'd learn soon enough…

[Drachenspirit]

Cirra Name: Cirra Warglow <------ Character Sheet Background: Charlatan Class: Treasure Hunter Description/Personality: At 21 years of age, Cirra stands 5'6" tall with Hazel eyes and brown hair. Cirra can be the life of the party in a moment's notice. She's scary good, a natural, at talking people into things and talking her way into and out of things. She can do impersonations with amazing accuracy, so much so that those on the guard with her often ask her to impersonate their superiors in joking situations. Whatno one wants to hear - and it's likely no one will unless they're intimate friends or she's drunk - are her hopes that something huge will change with the guard and set her free of it. But, a vow is a vow, so until that time comes - however unlikely -, she'll do what she must. That doesn't mean she isn't going to have fun doing it. After all, a life not lived to its fullest extent possible is no life worth living. History (based on lifepath): For her past, she knows who parents are, mother and father, and was born to these young parents who were living in a shed at the time. She had grown up in Modest Lifestyle, though it was in an Apartment in rundown neighborhood of the township/city. Others saw her as being different or strange due to the fact that she was always talking, even to herself as she had no siblings, and so she had few companions. War ravaged her home community, reducing everything to rubble and ruin. Before the war reached her community, her father went off to fight in it and disappeared to some unknown fate, perhaps killed in a battle though no word came back to her or her mother. In the aftermath of the war times were hard, and her mother married her off for some coin and so she'd have a chance at a life. The man she wed was older, and wasn't mean to her so much, but it was because of him that she became a Charlatan as he was a confidence artist, from whom she learned her craft. She far outclassed him in her craft, and jealousy on his part soon meant he let her go. Maybe she'd planned that. She's always been nimble and quick of wit, so she decided to use those talents to help her make her way in the world when she was let loose on her own. She did gain a bit of good fortune though. Seems some distant relative left her a stipend that enables her to live at the comfortable lifestyle for the next 15 years. Come to find out, it was her mother's father who had been looking for her on his death bed. Though his death meant nothing to her, it did bring news that her mother was deceased as well, from illness about a year ago. This new career of hers was short lived however. She talked her way into the confidence of a highly esteemed Noble couple, pretending to be some kind of expert on historical items. She pretended to be surprised that they had an old extremely valuable artifact that was said to be magical, but this was her sole reason for this con. Not for a moment thinking this thing could be as dangerous as it was valuable, she was caught stealing this magical artifact, and was injured by the effect of a spell that was protecting or guarding it. It almost killed her, momentarily stopping her heart. Servants of the Nobles revived her with a healing kit and some limited medicinal knowledge. At the same moment, the artifact was discovered near her person, so was the body of the Lord of the house and tickets to passage on a ship under a different name in her pouch, which gave up her con. The item was held in high regard, and the death of the Lord was pinned on her and in lieu of a death sentence, she took the vow since it was offered to enter service as a member of the Blackguard. Part of her thinks she can use her skills for the greater good, but put a drink or two in her and she'll smile slyly and know that she can fool others, but she can't fool herself.

[97mg]

Some things shouldn't be published... Sheet: https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=91676 Lifepath: https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthre...18#post9548018 Name: Khloe Cintos Class & Background: Scholar & Artisan Party Role: Healer, plotter, schemer and general "thinker". DM tool for insertion of plot devices such as rumors, history, and maybe even world events? Scholars always know a little bit about everything and the Game Master should regularly give you rumors or information based on your appropriate passive ability checks." Why Was I Enlisted: Perhaps I published something less than savory, about King Desmund's use of criminals as a workforce. Then ironically, as punishment, I was made to become one of them... Appearance: It is rare for a scribe of words to find need to write about how they might look... to the outside world. It almost feels unnecessarily self-indulgent. But who am I fooling? All of my texts are indulgent in one way or another! Artistic hypocrisy. Nothing too wrong with a little of that, I guess. I spend a great deal of time writing about my perceptions of others, so it only seems fair to be challenged to write about myself from time to time. With a father who was a monster's meal, and a mother who saw fit to produce enough children to colonize a new land, I guess there needs to be a few blessings along the way. I dare say my brothers and sisters are all well-formed, healthy individuals, and many share similar traits with me. A slim build. Auburn hair. Well-defined and pleasing facial features, which tend to be a wonderful tool in negotiations, yet a curse when attempting to go about one's business, unrecognized. Some used to say my sisters and I were "fair beauties", if that is anything to go by. Of our litter, I was never the strongest nor most agile. Being middle-born had other benefits though, and I soon found my strengths were in negotiating the needs of those siblings younger and older, in a charming way of course. Reading too, and later the arts, came almost naturally. Unless I am directly in want of something, or making an appearance in public, you'll likely find my hair a mess, and these fingers darkened with the stains of ink. When society demands, or when the leverage of a woman's attractiveness be required, I make allowances for such things, but never too much. I am of modest upbringing, after all. Personality: Now you ask me to discuss my personality? How incredibly odd! Surely an unbiased opinion would come from those I know closely, and have worked with? Oh well... I'll be the first to confess that I am... emotional. A dreamer, and romanticist. These are hard things to balance with a love of both knowledge and facts, and these facets on opposing sides always seem to fight for attention. I probably drift between them, quite unexpectedly for some. A fantasizer one minute, a hard-truth giver the next... I would like to think of myself as being a quiet type, yet also personable and compassionate. Death of one's own can teach a young woman many things, and what good is "knowing", without "sharing". Anyway, here is what a few others have to say: Rillak Fodolgi - Artisan's Guildmaster "The rosy cheeks give away the truth of this lass. She might present in a farmer's linens, but be not fooled. Her eyes are alert. Her ears ever listening. As a student, one could ask for no better, and as a painter's model, one could ask for no better in that too. Khloe dances a line between anonymity and greater purpose, cynicism and a heart that deeply seeks adoration. And, adore her, I do." Janelli Cintos - Younger Sister and Successful Slayer "Khloe bores me, until she doesn't. My mind drifts off when she talks of lore and the finer points on those individuals I hunt. She is trustworthy with such information, but she becomes far more interesting when I prod her with questions of love, ambition, or just get a few sips of wine into her. She can paint. She can write. But she certainly can't fight, haha." History (The Short Version): Shortly after birth, my father was killed by a monster. Left with six children, my mother abandoned me to my grandparents. She later went on to take a new husband, bringing three half-siblings into the world. I grew up with my grandparents, whilst my other siblings remained with my mother. She was probably no match for me in an argument, and my ability to assist with manual tasks around the household did not suit my childhood dreams and desires. My grandparent's home was modest and simple, an apartment in a rundown neighborhood. From the time I could hold a quill or brush, I was always painting and marking parchment. At the age of 15 my grandparents took me to meet Rillak Fodolgi, who then took me on as an apprentice. Getting by, by selling pieces of art and short novellas, as well as assisting other households with letter-writing and the like, things went well for quite a time. Then, last year, I wrote and distributed "Power For The Undeserving". It was an illustrated critique of our King's recycling of murderers and law breakers, into those who now enforced said laws and did our leader's bidding. I was imprisoned. Tried. And conscripted...

OOC Hi @Silent Rain! this was a fun process. I always enjoyed The Witcher RPG lifepath creation, so doing so for a different style of game was a treat. In her lifepath, she is supposed to make friends with an adventurer. Rather than rolling for it, I wondered if this might end up being one of the other characters? As Khloe is accepted, she'd be happy to scheme such a relationship together with one of the other PCs. Does a leather jerkin offer any kind of protection in this setting? I took the Preternatural Ability feat... so perhaps the Produce Flame cantrip could be re-fluffed as her being able to ignite some paint solvent and fling it around XD

[The Rat Queen]

Application Name: Meriel Ashworth Background: Entertainer Class: Warden Description/Personality: An attractive copper-haired woman in her twenties, about five-and-a-half feet tall with a slender build, Meriel enjoys performing and being the center of attention. She employs jokes and a quick wit to do both, but the surface joviality hides deeper insecurity and pain, which she is loathe to reveal to anyone. She wears flashy, bright clothing as part of her image and tries to experience life as much as she can. While she enjoys flirtation and romantic encounters, she has no desire for marriage or children, preferring to remain free to wander. Her induction into the Blackguard hasn't dampened this, as it accomplished two things she appreciates greatly: it kept her alive and it grants her the means to travel and see new things. The only thing she doesn't like about it is being bound by oath and taking orders from her commanders. However, she's wise enough to know better than to be directly defiant, using her charm and humor to diffuse all but the hardest of commanding officers and otherwise finding more subtle ways to subvert authority. History (based on lifepath): Born in Cetham, a town near Craydon, Tunbury, to a modest upbringing in a small house as the middle of five children, Meriel didn't grow up poor, though her childhood was not exactly happy. Her father, Dederick, was a wandering artisan who was seldom home. His success earned enough coin to put food on the table, but was not enough to keep her free-spirited mother Githa, a huntress by trade, trapped at home. Though a sense of duty kept her at home for awhile, Githa couldn't take the constraints of an absentee husband and five children, and eventually escaped to find her freedom. Before leaving, however, she bade Meriel to do the same when she was old enough, to escape the same fate, advice Meriel has kept close to her heart. Growing up, Meriel was a creative child, making up stories to tell or songs to sing. Unfortunately, these antics were seen by others in her small town as being different or strange, and so she had few companions as a child. Not quite shunned, but definitely not accepted socially, Meriel felt lost and alone until one fateful day when she saw a bard perform once as he was passing through, playing and singing to earn his supper, and knew from that moment on what she was born to do. Seeing his daughter's interest, and growing tired of her begging, he brought home a used lute when returning from his travels one day. Though it was really too big for her initially, Meriel threw herself whole-heartedly into learning, spending countless hours teaching herself to play through trial and error, eventually awakening her latent musical talents. Her skill grew, and she eventually began earning enough coin to support herself and sought out her mother, hoping to reconnect. Her mother, however, had little use for reconnecting personally with her daughter. In poor health due to a hunting accident, she instead forced Meriel to 'earn her keep' by providing for them both. Perhaps the young girl would have been willing to do so, if not for her mother's constant cruelty and criticism. Expressing disbelief that Meriel was earning coins playing music to crowds in taverns and inns, Githa instead insisted that Meriel was entertaining in a much more ribald fashion. Angry at being old and disabled, with her youth wasted on children and a failed marriage, her mother lashed out at Meriel, who eventually left the destructive environment...abandoning her mother the way she'd been abandoned years before. Still, she could not bring herself to stay angry with her mother, instead making excuses for Githa's behavior due to her troubles and poor health. Meriel wandered the lands, playing for coin when she could, begging or fast-talking when she couldn't. She sought out her older sister Tacey, who had gone off to study academia. Muriel felt bad for her, as she was struggling financially with a husband and small children, and feared that she would walk the same path their mother had. She could only offer prayers for her eldest brother Moss, a sailor who traveled the seas to ply his trade. She hadn't seen him since he left home, and wasn't sure she ever would again. Her younger brother, Jeptha, had left their father's house about the time Meriel had freed herself from her mother's clutches, and had trained as a warrior, wandering the lands as an adventurer in much the same manner as Meriel. She hoped to catch up to him someday and perhaps even adventure together, and always kept an ear tuned for rumors of his location. She did not seek out her youngest sibling, Baldric. He had always been a bully growing up, inheriting their mother's cruelty, and become a soldier before becoming maimed in the wars. At one point, Meriel found troops of some sort of militia encamped nearby and decided to earn a few coins playing for the soldiers. All went well until the camp was attacked. Meriel was caught up in the fighting, and was knocked out and left for dead. She woke up hours later surrounded by bodies, with no recollection of the battle. The good news was that she was alive. The bad news was that the army she'd found had actually been rebels against the Empire. Survivors, including Meriel, were captured and imprisoned. The guards were surprised, at first, to find that Meriel was not dedicated to any cause contrary to imperial interests, and mostly believed that she'd simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Of course, she'd still been consorting with rebels, knowingly or not, and had technically fought against imperial troops, whether she was defending herself or not, so simply releasing her was not an option. Instead, she was offered a position in the Blackguard, rather than being executed for treason. Having few options that didn't involve her grisly demise, she agreed and took the Oath.

 

Family information Father: Dederick Align: Neutral Class: Wanderer Occupation: Artisan Relationship: Friendly Status: Alive and quite successful Mother: Githa Align: Lawful evil Class: Wanderer Occupation: Huntress Relationship: Friendly Status: Alive, but doing poorly Oldest sibling: Tacey Align: Neutral Occupation: Academic Relationship: Friendly Status: Alive, but doing poorly Second-oldest sibling: Moss Align: Neutral Occupation: Sailor Relationship: Friendly Status: Alive and well Younger sibling: Jeptha Align: Neutral Class: Warrior Occupation: Adventurer Relationship: Friendly Status: Alive and well Youngest sibling: Baldric Align: Neutral evil Occupation: Soldier Relationship: Hostile Status: Alive, but doing poorly due to injury.

 

Character sheet Meriel Ashworth Stat Base Pts Bkgr Total STR 8 0 0 8 DEX 13 0 1 14 CON 14 0 0 14 INT 12 0 0 12 WIS 12 0 0 12 CHA 14 0 2 16 Race: Human Racial traits: - **Resourceful.** You gain Inspiration* whenever you finish a Long Rest.* - **Skillful.** You gain Proficiency in one Skill of your choice. - **Versatile.** You gain the Skilled Feat or another 1st-level Feat of your choice. Background traits: #### ENTERTAINER **Ability Scores:** +2 Charisma, +1 Dexterity **Skill Proficiencies:** Acrobatics, Performance **Tool Proficiency:** Musical Instrument* (one of your choice) **Language:** Elvish **Feat:** *1st-Level Feat* : **Prerequisite:** None </BR> **Repeatable:** No : You are a practiced musician, granting you the following benefits: - **Instrument Training.** You gain Tool Proficiency with three Musical Instruments of your choice. - **Inspiring Song.** As you finish a Short Rest or a Long Rest, you can play a song on a Musical Instrument with which you have Tool Proficiency and give Inspiration to allies who hear the song. The number of allies you can affect in this way equals your Proficiency Bonus.Musician ___ You spent much of your youth following roving fairs and carnivals, performing odd jobs for musicians and acrobats in exchange for lessons. You may have learned how to walk a tightrope, how to double pick a lute, or how to recite Elvish poetry with the impeccable trills of an elf poet. To this day, you thrive on applause and long for the stage. ___ **Equipment** - Costume (2) - Musical Instrument (same as above) - Perfume - Steel Mirror - Traveler’s Clothes - 8 GP - *(a)* A broadsword, *(b)* longsword or *(c)* short sword - *(a)* a short bow or *(b)* a great bow with a quiver of 20 arrows - a leather corset - *(a)* a shield or *(b)* great shield Warden: HP: 10 #### Proficiencies **Armor:** :: Light armour, shields **Weapons:** :: Simple weapons, broadswords, long swords, short swords. **Tools:** :: None **Saving Throws:** :: Dexterity, Charisma **Skills:** :: Traditions, choose any other two **Feats:** :: You can inspire others through stirring words, through music or by your presence alone. To do so, use a bonus action on your turn. Choose one creature other than yourself that is within 60 feet of you and who can hear you. That creature gains one Gift die, a d6. : Once within the next 10 minutes, the creature can roll the Gift die and add the number rolled to one ability check, attack roll or saving throw it attempts. The creature can wait until after it rolls the d20 before deciding to use the Gift die, but must decide before the Loremaster says whether the roll succeeds or fails. Once the Gift die is rolled, it is lost. A creature may have only one Gift die at a time. : You can use this feature a number of times equal to your Charisma modifier (a minimum of once). You regain any expended uses after a long rest. : Your Gift die increases in size when you reach certain levels in this class. The die becomes a d8 at 5th level, a d10 at 10th level and a d12 at 15th level.Warden’s Gift (d6), Wardens make a point of keeping up with the latest news both local and from afar, as well as making an effort to know the wise and the powerful. If you can freely travel about an area talking with locals and passing travellers for a few hours, you can make a DC 12 Intelligence (Investigation) ability check with advantage. : Success indicates that you hear all the latest useful rumours, including news of trouble. Failure means you hear all the latest rumours and news, but cannot discern the true from the false. On a success, you can also glean the names, whereabouts and general appearances of all local influential individuals, households and factions, as well as what livery, colours and heraldry they typically bear, if any.Ever Watchful

[creed]

Rikvarn Rosewound Name : Rikvarn Rosewound Background: Criminal Class: Slayer Description/Personality: Rikvarn, or Rik as he's usually referred as, has an ability to blend into the background of most situations. Worn leathers and well used cloak and coverings would have him look as someone that was down on his luck or low on the social ladder. His persona is a bit of a mix depending on the situation. By himself, he is usually quiet and withdrawn. In a group, he can go from being quiet and sullen, to almost animated depending on the topic or the stress of the situation that they find themselves in. He can be quite gregarious and social, but tha tis usually when he is attempting to convince a mark to part with something that he wants. One thing that is near constant is the yes; he rarely blinks, always looking around the room as if he is expecting someone or something that he doesn't want to see appearing at any moment. History (based on lifepath) : Born the youngest of eight children to a minor merchant family in Valent, the birth was quite unexpected, with his parents being almost 50 at the time. From his youth, he was considered to be a bit off. Preferably to be alone for hours or even days at a time. Making strange statements to unseen people. Random mood swings. He was quite a handful for his older parents in his youth. He had a pleasant, if unusual relationship with his older siblings. Most of them were old enough for him to be their child, and their relationship followed this. He only had a sibling like relationship with his one brother who is a bureaucrat, and even that became distant once he reached his teens. A wild child in his teens is almost guaranteed to get into crime. Full of energy and nowhere to direct it, he soon found himself in the criminal thievery gangs of Valent, providing protection to those that paid the right price. He didn't have a commanding stature; indeed he almost blended into the crowd. It was only when things went off the rails that his presence made itself known in the form of broken bones and bruised faces. It was that line of work that landed him in his current predicament. It didnt' seem to be anything remarkable at the time. A mouthy loser to a corner three card monte game needing to be put in his place. It was only the next day that the guards tracked him down in force. He had been charged with killing the eldest son of the heir of a major house. They found blood on his dagger, thinking it was proof that he had stabbed the victim. HIs arguments of it being left from his dinner fell on deaf ears, and he was told that it was death or the BlackGuard. He took the latter. Death was final, while as long as he lived, he could get revenge if the chance presented itself. Assuming he could keep his wits about him.

Info Rikvarn Rosewound Level: Slayer 1 Armor Class: 17 HP: 15/15 Speed: 30 ft Senses: ???, passive perception 11 Str: 13 Dex: 18 Con: 16 Int: 10 Wis: 14 Cha: 9 Saving throws: STR +3, DEX +4, CON +5, INT 0, WIS +2, CHA -1 Skills: Intimidation +1, Perception +4, Slight of Hand +6, Stealth +6 Feats: Alert, Tavern Brawler Languages: Common, Thieves Can't