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  #1  
Old Nov 15th, 2013, 10:44 PM
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Heroes of Old

DMLink your character sheets here, when done. Also include your applications, if you like, so that the other players can reacquaint themselves with your character if needed.
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Old Nov 15th, 2013, 11:21 PM
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NAME: Simon Miercoles
RACE: Human
ALIGN: LG
CLASS:Soulknife
Ah, sheet
BACKGROUND
The middle son of a mid-level noble in House Deneith, Simon Miercoles had never taken to bragging or wanting to rule over men, as his brothers did. He's a trained soldier quick to strike if needed, but he's not violent by nature. Introspective and unassuming, he might have been a monk or scholar were he not born into one of the blackest, most war-mongering, intrigue-infested houses in Karrnath.

Rather than attend the standard military training -- Simon secretly enlists in a test program dreamed up by his very own father to make an army of "psychic soldiers" who are always armed.

It doesn't take long before problems occur. Some of the volunteers go mad, others can't control the strange psychic powers that have been clumsily unleashed in them through drugs, magic, and the partial translations of an ancient transcript. The program is ultimately a failure and ends up harming everyone in it, including Simon. The damaging psychic experiments bring him to edge of his mind, causing him to withdraw into an inner shell. For six years he wanders about his father's house, unable to talk or focus on anyone -- he just reads. To make matters worse, his father carries a grudge against him for volunteering for an experimental program behind his back, and threatens to toss him out whenever Simon wanders into view.

During the close of the Last War, a Kalashtar refugee named Jasmine visits the Miercoles household. When she appears, the failed soulknife program volunteers suddenly mobilize against their wills. There's fire and chaos and murder everywhere as they begin attacking anyone who stands between them and the strange Kalashtar. Simon too feels the pull of a powerful psychic influence -- the call of the Inspired -- but somehow he's able to resist, and defends Jasmine from the rogue warriors. He and Jasmine steal away (along with the ancient manuscript) from House Deneith, fleeing south so that she can report back to her kind about the Inspired's plot.

Traveling together, Simon protects the woman in the wilds, and she in turn uses her gifts to begin healing the psychic damage done by the Deneith experiments. In her care, Simon starts to act "normal" again: he even begins speaking, though with a heavy stutter. They travel hundreds of miles together, and Simon becomes more than her guardian.

It's just outside of Breland when Jasmine disappears. Perhaps she was summoned by her people, but would she just leave her ward and patient without a word? Darker thoughts run though Simon's mind as he approaches Breland searching for her.

Last edited by mountainbound; Feb 23rd, 2014 at 02:27 PM.
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  #3  
Old Nov 15th, 2013, 11:32 PM
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Name: Grenzak Durden Clawhome
Race: Halfling
Class: Barbarian (Mad Dog variant)
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Background: Born very late in the Last War, Grenzak of the Clawhome tribe did not have the good fortune to participate in any of the great raids that made the Talenta halflings a force to be negotiated with at the Treaty of Thronehold. By the time he was born, most of his people had retreated deeper into the endless expanse of grassland and rolling hills that they called home. But even still, Grenzak and other eager young warriors rode out in search of battle and glory, though it more often entailed trailing lone Valenar or lost humans.

Once the Treaty was established, it seemed that proving oneself in war was no longer an option for a Clawhomer proving his manhood. Grenzak, like most, returned to the most traditional of masculine rites, the capture and rearing of young Clawfoots. It was a grey, rainy day when young Grenzak stole upon a clawfoot nest to find a clutch of eggs unattended, save for one that had hatched early. The egg itself was unassuming, but the clawfoot that emerged was certainly not. In addition the dappled grey, green and brown that camouflaged them, this clawfoot had a streak of bright blue scales running over its head and down its back.

Taking the beast home, Grenzak earned its trust and taught it the tricks that halflings had passed down for centuries. Naming him Riverrun, Grenzak and the beast soon became inseparable. He followed Grenzak while hunting, while herding, and even while escorting the odd scholar from Sharn University around the Plains. When the University's expedition asked for escort back to Sharn itself, Grenzak volunteered, knowing that he might never again get the chance to see the wider world of Khoirvaire. And on somebody else's dime, no less.

Personality
Grenzak, or Zak to his friends (or enemies, or anyone really) couldn't give an ounce of hammertail dung what people think of him. Back home he was a respected warrior, even if he didn't get to raid so much as some. He came from a good lineage and was well respected and had good prospects for an arranged marriage, within or without the Clawhome Tribe. But all that wasn't enough. He needed something more, something to prove he hadn't wasted the opportunity of life given by his ancestors. Sure, now he is in a foreign city that stinks of feces and stone, and half the time the bigfolk don't even look where they're stepping, but Grenzak knows by the time he returns home, he will have enough gold to hold a half-dozen thanes under arms and perhaps even rise to become chieftain.

Three Goals: Make some cash, see some sights, and venerate the ancestors by blood and deed
Allied Monsters: Dinosaurs! , lizardfolk
Enemy Monsters: Karrnathi undead, Valenar raiders
Allied Nation: Breland
Enemy Nation: Valenar
Secret of The Setting: What caused the Day or Mourning? (essential to Talentan survival, after all)


Last edited by GrimDarkOtter; Jan 20th, 2014 at 08:53 PM.
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  #4  
Old Nov 16th, 2013, 05:08 AM
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RETIRED
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Name: Cam Asaro
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Class: Fighter (Lore Warden archetype)

Background: (From a wealthy family in Cyre that fell into poverty after his nation was destroyed. Now lives with his family in Sharn, down in the dank slums.)

"War has a way of pruning the rosebush till nothing but stem and thorns remain. Or trimming the fat from the roast, you might say. Or clipping the quill down to its nib. Damn euphemisms. What it all means is war will empty your pockets and, if you’re lucky, leave you with the one thing that matters most - family."

The Asaro house was prosperous before the Last War. It was no Dragonmark House, not by any stretch, but the family mansion reflected the success of countless far-reaching trade arrangements. Three generations of strife took all that away, reducing wealth to mere affluence, then further still to "getting by," and then "scraping by." Gone were the trade routes, and with them went the mansions, the jewels, and the bank deposits. At last, all that remained was poverty.

Cam’s parents spent the last of the family funds to send him to school. They believed an education would unlock opportunities they could no longer give him. Their faith in him was a pure thing born of love and hope. It still warms Cam’s soul whenever he thinks on it.

In the end, he’d had to betray that faith.

His parents were hungry and so was his younger sister. What else was Cam supposed to do? He needed the coin. There were no jobs for scholars in an era of rebuilding. There were no ministerial positions, judgeships, or openings for royal tutors that were not already filled by friends of the well-connected. No…these were unstable times, and instability needs mercenaries.

So he signed up. He killed for money. He protected vile men and ambushed their vile rivals. He felt hollow, steeped in blood, and unsure of his soul.

Only two things remained to cast light into the darkness his life had become. First, his family could eat because of the jobs he did. Second…he still remembered his old schooling. Knowledge had given him a glimpse of the wider world and the arc of its history. Somewhere, he knew, there were truly great men and women. There were wonders whose beauty transcended any notion of good or evil. There were riches earned honorably.

Somewhere there was salvation, and he swore that one day he would find it.

Last edited by mad_gondsman; Sep 8th, 2014 at 12:51 PM.
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  #5  
Old Nov 17th, 2013, 09:40 AM
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Application
I heard you wanted some help with a problem, so I called in some favours. Let's make this meeting quick, shall we?

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Name: Edith Vaughnan
Race: Dhampir
Class: Ninja 2/Slayer 2
Alignment: Neutral
Role: Stealth Expert, Party Face

Background: Dhampir are often considered freaks, the bizarre result of a union between the living and the death. This strikes true even in Karrnath, the nation of the dead - where people like Edith grow up, repulsed by even their own societies. Born in a caravan of her partly-dead kin, Edith was raised as a nomad and gypsy. Attachment was reserved for those she saw daily, rather than those she met in the streets or on the road. She took well to it, even as her family wandered from their homeland of Karrnath into warmer climes. In time, she developed a talent for sneaking, becoming a short-time legends in the towns they passed.

Edith learned a lot of lessons from that old caravan. From her mother, who sacrificed herself for the rest of the caravan, she learned of humility. From her father, who fought off brigands until his dying breath, she learned of bravery. From Sabrina, the soothsayer who gave aid to the needy until she had nothing left to give, she learned of patronage. From Spencer, the man who stood his ground until he was buried beneath it, she learned of fortitude. Ultimately, the most important lesson Edith ever learned was of sacrifice. Sometimes, sacrifice was necessary.

Although she has long left the caravan behind to pursue other ways of life, she still carries her father's guitar. She's been learning to play it, you know.

Eventually, Edith's travels brought her to Cyre, the City of Towers. Sure, it's a proud name, but it doesn't do its people justice. Some live in squashed little buildings, while others live in tiny backstreets. In a way, it's like an immobile caravan, including the threats to get out of town. She doesn't really miss those old days back in Karrnath, but she'll always remember being called a thieving gypsy girl. There's something about that which makes it memorable.


There, my life story, laid out as you requested. Now, I've got things to do. More important things than getting all sobby and memorable over the past.
Once everything on my end is sorted out, I'll be back here for that work you promised me. I'll be a few days, tops. Look forward to it.

Last edited by Muggins; Dec 9th, 2014 at 11:14 AM.
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Old Sep 6th, 2014, 07:20 AM
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Canas Ondore ir'Harken
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Name: Canas Ondore ir'Harken
Race: Human (Zil)
Class: Wizard

Personality: A scholar first, a nobleman second. Canas is a perfectly polite, cheerful person to be around. He has a certain amount of distaste for the filth and grime of the world, but his excitement at seeing new things and unraveling new mysteries always trumps it. He is not very streetwise, and often doesn't stop to consider the danger of the situation or how out of place he may be. But he makes up for it with plenty of charm and a carefree spirit that is sure to get him in trouble one of these days. He is very focused and eager to pursue his studies, but he is somewhat of an intellectual dilettante, hopping from one subject to the next. He wishes he was an explorer or adventurer, and so loves the fact that he's on a quest--nevermind what the goal is. He even references novels or other works that he's read, no doubt to the annoyance of everyone who's in the situation with him.

Appearance: Dressed in fine clothes at all points, Canas has taken his noble upbringing to heart. He does not go for lavish, but his apparel is always of the finest order, and is kept in excellent condition. He sports the silver hair of his family, pulled back into a ponytail to keep it out of his face, and bright blue eyes. His face is rather small, with a smooth, tapered jaw and flat cheekbones. If he spent any considerable amount of time in the sun, he would be as tan as the rest of his family is, but he doesn't, so he isn't. He wears the signet ring of his family on his left hand: a raven clutching a keycharm, and always has a book in hand, whether its his spellbook or something else.

Background: I'm just going to bullet point this for the time being.

--Born in Dragonroost to a Brelish noble family that suddenly found themselves living in a gnomish nation.
--The third son, Tolan is the black sheep of the family, though not to the point of being disowned or anything of that nature
--Preferred books to blades, spells to swords, mysteries to mauls
--Parents hired tutors for him, then he moved to Korranberg to work and study at the library despite their preferences that he study in Sharn
--His family calls itself Brelish and is unhappy that they are now under Zil rule, though since all their assets are in Dragonroost they have no intention of leaving
--Canas doesn't get it, having been Zil his whole life, and finds his family's view on Zilargo ridiculous and outdated. He does not share the nationalism for Breland they do, seeing such isms as irresponsible and the main cause of the War.
--Wrote a thesis on the the planar implications of the Day of Mourning
--Could not secure funding to go adventuring from his parents or Korranberg
--Sold his apartment and most of his possessions, and set out towards Cyre, though he does not have any particular goal in mind.

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Old Jan 11th, 2018, 07:45 AM
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Ghir'Was
Name:Ghir'Was (Pronounced Geer-Wahs)
Race: Shifter
Class/Team Role: Ranger / Deep scout or skirmisher
Nationality:Breland

Standing at an impressive 6'3" tall, and coming close to 260 pounds of flesh, Ghir'Was is a shifter. His size, and black fur covering most of his form grants him the appearance of an ill fed black bear. He has a square, and slightly protruding jawline. His eyes as as black as his fur, and the overall appearance of his lycanthropic ancestors is completed by his elongated claws. He is clad in a weathered and torn military uniform from Breland, it's insignia and rank identify him as a low ranking member of the reconnaissance corps. It has seen better days.

He carries very little with him, but you get the feeling that he doesn't need to hold a weapon to be dangerous.

Last edited by Stannach; Jan 15th, 2018 at 11:23 AM.
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Old Jan 12th, 2018, 06:40 AM
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Name: Arrun Corliostor
Race: Human
Class: Paladin of the Silver Flame
Alignment: Lawful Good

Description: Arrun is a tall man, standing 6’ 4”, with broad shoulders and a muscular physique. His green eyes hold a deep intensity, a reflection of the fervor he holds for his faith. His dark brown hair is cut short, a holdover from his days of military life. The armor that covers most of his body is well worn, indicating he has seen his fair share of skirmishes. Over his armor, Arrun wears a white tunic this is embroidered with a silver arrowhead engraved with a stylized flame, the symbol of his religion. He carries a large, heavy steel shield, emblazoned with the same arrowhead flame image, and his trusty longsword hangs from his belt at his left hip.

Background: Arrun was born in the city of Sigilstar in Thrane. His father, Lukar, was a minor noble of the house Corliostor and his is mother, Melindri, was from the house Hetrion. Arrun grew up on the family tea estate just outside of Sigilstar, working the fields along with his two younger sisters, Hariel and Kahlia. Arrun loved to explore the estate, searching for lost treasure or stolen artifacts, whatever his imagination could come up with. One day, while exploring the manor house, Arrun stumbled on an amazing discovery. He found, hidden away in the basement, some armor and swords. When Arrun asked his father about the stash, he was shocked to learn that his father had been a warrior once. Arrun had never heard stories of his father’s youth, it was something his mother wanted to keep from the children, especially Arrun. Lukar had served with the Knights of Thrane, fighting in numerous battles and gaining distinction. When Lukar reached the age of 38, he was released from service and returned to the tea estate to start a family and lead a simpler life.

Arrun pestered his mother and father about learning how to handle weapons and armor. His father was keen to the idea, but it took considerable convincing to turn Melindri. Finally she relented and Arrun’s training began. Lukar taught the boy everything he knew, how to wear and maintain his armor, tactics in battle and the proper use of a sword. The boy’s progression in his martial abilities, and Lukar’s connections, eventually caught the attention of the Knights of Thrane. When Alric reached the age of fifteen he was asked to join the order and eagerly accepted.

Arrun’s training with the Knights focused more on how to serve the Silver Flame. His training with his father had provided Arrun with a feel for armor that made it almost a second skin, giving him remarkable agility in it. He had a strong talent for combat with sword and shield, but he lacked an understanding of the goals of the Silver Flame. The paladins took Arrun under their wing and taught him the tenants of the Silver Flame. These beliefs in combating evil resonated with Arrun, as though he was uncontrollably draw to power of the Flame. Seeing this intense connection, the paladins focused on building this relationship, teaching him their ways. Arrun was quick to learn and by the age of eighteen he was anointed as a paladin of the Silver Flame.

Arrun served in the Last War, just as his father did. He fought valiantly and with courage, a courage of his convictions. But, after some time, his optimism turned to cynicism. He saw too often, what he felt were questionable deeds done under the guise of obedience to leaders. These actions were justified in the pursuit of the destruction of evil. He also saw what he viewed as evil left to prosper as those in command turned a blind eye. This caused internal conflict for Arrun as he tried to reconcile his beliefs, what the Silver Flame taught, and the actions of its followers. After some time, it became apparent that Arrun could not tolerate the actions of some of the Silver Flame’s so called ‘followers’ and he certainly could not take orders to do things he felt went against the tenants of the Silver Flames. His faith in the Silver Flame was still strong, he just couldn’t tolerate what he saw as false followers within the organizations that claimed to be of the faith.

Arrun was released from his service but now needed an outlet for his beliefs. He wanted to continue the good work of eradicating evil, but on his own terms. He learned of the Wayfinder Foundation and believed it would be a good conduit for him to continue his life’s work.
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Last edited by EngrInAZ; Jan 12th, 2018 at 08:56 AM.
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Old Jan 13th, 2018, 04:41 PM
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SOLOMON SALT
DWARVEN FIGHTER - CLAN NOLDRUN

Character Sheet

Solomon SaltSolomon Salt - a practical dwarf by all standards. He’d been splitting that blonde beard neatly, oiled it with turmeric oil so it turned to fire and kept every bit of his armor sparkling clean, rust-spot-free and dandy as if he was the Duke’s glamourous wedding guard and then there was the matter of his house. A solid boulder house with darkwood beams and oaken floor planks and a central mass oven serving to heat it up to perfection. Solomon Salt had, as any decent dwarf ought to, build his own house from foundation to the bronze tipped ridge. He was proud and protective of it and channeled most of his wages into its perfection and preservation.

Then came the Last War to the solitude lands he resided in.

Solomon Salt lost his house and a few white specks found way to his grand beard.

The beginning of times had been good. There had been a call for Noldrune warrirors - even those as far out as Solomon Salt - and he had served the order of warriors, wardens and protectors well, partaking in the battles and skirmishes with vigor and dedication.

Then the great kings of the dwarves found ways to lay their differences and grudges aside and emerge to the daylight again. Solomon returned to his home to see it wrecked and smashed by the battles that had been. It took him a weeks mourning before he settled to end such things and transferred his meticulousness and care for iron and stone to his gear and weapon and he departed on what became a long and tiresome journey to seek adventures to make the best of his abilities and maybe, one day, find a suitable project to throw his dedication at.

海浪上 - 怪物成群來到阿利法克斯 - 輕鬆地把他們扔到地上 - 喝了死
Dwarven Inscription on Solomon's helmet: "As waves upon the sea - hordes of monsters came at Arlifax - With ease he threw them to the ground and drank to their death."

Solomon Salt has big hands, rough like stone slabs, and a broad frame. Between perfectly oiled beard sits a thick-lipped mouth and yellow square teeth. A broad nose diverts his meaty face in two - glaucous round eyes set under heavy, bushy brows and rough cheeks. His greying mane is smoothened back under a heavy helmet, runes spinning the rim with a hymn to the legend of Arlifax the Grand Guard and a low iron crest depicting the perfect rotation of a light hammer in flight.
There is an air of metal around Solomon Salt, mixed with a buttery smell it makes for a rich oily oratory sensation if you get close with the warrior dwarf.

Solomon Salt - a practical dwarf by all standards. He know the value in martial arts when he see it and he know that those who harness magic are either potent and unreliable or outright bad for the world - he deems himself an excellent judge of character and can put down excellent ideas about other men and women, in short time.
The dwarven soldier is also a proud vanguard against greenskin filth. Whatever happened when these monsters was let out of Khyber’s womb, it was disastrous and very, very wrong and Solomon will act on any chance to throw back the monsters and seal the exit gap forever.

Last edited by Dressedtojazz; Jan 13th, 2018 at 04:43 PM.
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