[Characters] The Castaways

[Hanz]

THE CASTAWAYS




Welcome to the Character Thread!
Follow the instructions below, and do not post anything irrelevant here!

Look at all these damn FIELDSETS This is where your characters go. Please post your sheets directly as NSHEETS along WITH an Inserted link to the direct sheet in a spoiler button SEPERATE from your original app, which is also in it's own Spoiler Button.

If your superior overlord's demands are not met, you will be severely punished.

[Scimmy]

Kevendithas Petrilonorus Elroar Gladdenstone, Fourth sahash of the Fists of Nivi Rhombodazzle

 

 

Noobz always does have some interesting ideas. We just both jointly applied and were rejected from a game. I like this idea so I'm stealing it.

 

 

1) Barbarian 2) Bard 3) Cleric 4) Druid 5) Fighter 6) Monk

7) Paladin 8) Ranger 9) Rogue 10) Sorcerer 11) Wizard

12) Alchemist 13) Cavalier 14) Gunslinger 15) Inquisitor

16) Magus 17) Oracle 18) Summoner 19) Witch

20) Ninja 21) Samurai

Dice * Roll:

1d21

1

Multi classing? 1-3) no 4) yes

Dice * Roll:

1d4

4

Dice * Roll:

1d20

14

Barbarian/Inquisitor
Archetypes?
Barbarian 1-18) Archetypes 19-22)Base

Dice * Roll:

1d22

19

Inquisitor 1-9) Archetypes 10-12)Base

Dice * Roll:

1d12

9

 

1) Dwarf 2) Elf 3) Gnome 4) Half-Elf 5) Halfling 6) Half-Orc 7) Human

Dice * Roll:

1d7

3

 

this is simpler for me as I'm not willing to sacrifice class abilities in the name of pure randomness. So I'm either 1)good or 2)neutral.

Dice * Roll:

1d2

1

Deity alignment 1) CG 2) NG 3) LG 4) CN 5) N 6) LN 7) CE 8) NE

Dice * Roll:

1d8

5

Deity based on the listing of deities I found online.

Dice * Roll:

1d9

7

 

dont quite get how noobz randomized stats and i fell asleep before he called to explain, so I'm improvising my own system.

 

base 8 all rolls -1. Assigned a stat after first roll.

Dice * Roll:

1d6	1
1d6	2
1d6	1
1d6	5
1d6	4
1d6	3

 

The order is: INT, DEX, CHA, STR, WIS, CON all w/-1 again

Dice * roll 2:

1d7

4

Dice * the res of roll 2:

d7	5
d7	2
d7	5
d7	5
d7	3

 

So Stats break down like this so far...ish
INT 12 (+4 points)
DEX 13 (+5 points)
CHA 9 (+1 point)
STR 14 (+7 points but 8 rolled)
WIS 14 (+7 points)
CON 10 (+2 points) gives me 6 points to assign so last points go into my "main stats which represents his "training"

Dice * roll 3:

1d4	2
1d4	2
1d4	3

[/http://www.rpgcrossing.com/images/editor/color.gifSPOILERBUTTON]

 

final stats after racial mods
STR: 13
DEX: 13
CON: 15
INT: 12
WIS: 14
CHA: 12

Basics Name:Kevendithas Petrilonorus Elroar Gladdenstone "But you may call me Keven" Race:Darkvision, Fell Magic, Knack for PoisonDread Gnome H/W/A:3' 6"/42lbs/"Born on the 26th day of Erastus"72 years "My weight is perfectly acceptable for my height!" Class:Barbarian 1/Witch Hunter Inquisitor 1 May the luck of Nivi Rhombodazzle favor you...just not over me."

Place in the World Social Status:Lower-Middle Class. Life began as hunter/gatherer, but when his tribe was wiped out by a mage, he moved to the city. As most naive young people do, he got in deep with the wrong people but was rescued by an agent of the church. His position would leave him better off than he is, but he spends lavishly and gambles often. Reputation: Keven is a man who is free with his money. Among the gambling circles, he is well know as a loud and boisterous bettor. But he is also known to have a massive temper when he feels someone might be cheating. Party Role: Keven is a well-rounded gnome, not truly excelling at any one role, but able to quickly slip into whatever is needed. In battle he is equally proficient at range and melee, and in social situations he is good at personal interactions and taking the measure of those he is with. When he puts his mind to it, he has a look that can make most wilt and some actively shake with terror, but mostly he enjoys making friends and is quick to invite someone to play a game of chance with him.

Short Story "Bother Gladdenstone, the church appreciates your...zeal. But feel it pertinent to remind you that ours is a faith of life, joy, and the love of the game. When you....err....aggressively......ummm....assert.... .that someone is cheating, it creates the wrong atmosphere." Keven sighs, "I recognize this councils concerns, however I feel it important to remind you that the man was clearly..." There is a sharp crack as a gavel srtikes the sounding block. "We are well aware of your claims that the man was employing magic means to cheat the game. Upon investigating the man in question we found not even a glimmer of magical talent. You are dismissed while we deliberate." Keven, turned sharply on his heel and strode out the doors, the . Damnable, uptight council, I know what I saw. Magic was being worked at that table. While he waited he paced, absently reaching into the silk pouch at his waist and pulling out one of the gemstone dice he carried. While he paced he rolled the die across his knuckles. His hands begin a rhythm rolling a die slipping it into the pouch, and pulling out another repeating endlessly. At last the door cracked and he was called back into the chamber. "WE have decided your.....talents.....would best be employed elsewhere. Your orders are thus......"

Early Years "Hunt master, perhaps we should turn back?" The one that spoke had soft green skin and deep brown eyes. He had nearly as many years as Kevendithas himself, but the honor of "hunt master" had been won by Kevendithas this time. Holding his spear lightly, Kevendithas stokes the hunter's fury within him, preparing for the final rush to bring down tonight's dinner. "Silent Tiny Ears!" Kevendithas hisses, "Take Crooked Nose and Flat Face and move to the flank over there, you have thumbspan of the moon to get into position, and if you don't bring your share down they will have to change your nickname Cracked Face." They move silently and Kevendithas and his hunters that remain begin to breath heavily, their muscles twitching and their eyes darkening, losing themselves to the hunting fury. The move crosses the determined distance and the hunters fly from their cover, bringing down two elk and startling the others into motion. Tiny Ears and his group toss their spears just as the elk begin to move and three more fall. The gnomes all cheer and make quick work of preparing the fallen elk for transport. But when still a mile out of their camp, a bright light could be seen, the camp burned and no one was left alive. Kevendithas, fell to his knees at the edge of their camp, the fire singing his face, and stared as a cloaked figure emerged from a tent at the other end of camp. He turned his eyes on Kevendithas for a moment and with a smirk, raised his hand, spraying a gout of fire at the unscathed section of camp and vanishing in a wink of magic.

Pains of Learning Excerpt 1 I write this so I kan can remember it later. I haf have been taken in by the church and they force me to lern to read and rite. I do not like it, but they haf been kind to me so I am trying. They found me broken, my det kolectors found me a demanded payment, and of course I koudn't pay them all I o'd. The church has promised that they will halp help me find a place, here or with a teacher so that can pay my dets back. Setting the quill down Kevendithas sighed and rubbed his hand "Writing is hard, and I keep messing up. Can't I just tell you what to write?" The elderly human in the room regarded Kevendithas with a stern eye, "You have been told to speak only in the common tongue, you need to improve your comprehension and mastery of it. But to answer your question, no. If I did it for you you would never learn." The elderly man picks up the paper and frowns severely, "This is a mess, you will have to redo it. And remember, take your time, there is no reason for your penmanship to be both full of errors and illegible." Kevendithas sighed and pulled a fresh sheet out and rewrote it, fixing many of the errors. Excerpt 2 Today I was accepted as an initiate in the church. For the next 7 years I will perform the tasks of an acolyte. In two years my order will be chosen and I will begin my training in addition to my duties as an acolyte. I pray that I will be selected as a cleric, for I long to serve in the game houses where men come to worship Nivi Rhombodazzle, although the inquisitors might make a good second choice... "I swear to uphold the vitures of Nivi Rhombodazzle; Life, Joy, and Love of the Game. I shall protect the sanctity of the game and ensure that all are given a fair chance to play. I will seek out those who manipulate the game for their own selfish desires, and destroy those who would twist luck to flow unnaturally." Keven's blindfold was removed and a necklace with a ruby carved like a single die was placed around his neck. "Welcome brother Gladdenstone, may Nivi Rhombodazzel ever favor your rolls and guide your draws."

Now Keven swept the table clean, staring murder at his opponent. Even standing on the chair Keven could look directly into the eyes of his opponent. I, Kevendithas Petrilonorus Elroar Gladdenstone, Fourth sahash of the Fists of Nivi Rhombodazzle, declare you a mage and a cheater. You will face justice." Keven's silver eyes flash the challenge at his opponent. "Oh my violet skinned friend, it is only a mere game. Here I shall return your coin to you and we may part amicably." The robed man tosses a small bag on the table and moves to leave. But quicker than you'd expect, Keven stands in front of the man. "I cannot allow you to leave without facing justice. You cheated me and I can see that it was not a new practice for you. By The Grey Polychrome you will not leave here without learning the price of altering the odds of the game." Keven only stands 3'6" but his presence is huge and the man takes a step back before shaking his head and recovering. "You know not the powers you mess with little one. Step aside, and I won't be forced to embarass you." Keven's violet skin darkens in rage and between one heart beat and the next, Keven draws his mace and slams it into the knee of the mage. As the man crumbles, Keven grabs his hair and slams the man's face against the floor. Once. Twice. Three times, and the man lay still. Breathing heavy, Keven looks to the others in the tavern pulling himself up straight despite the sudden fatigue and glares daggers at all the other patrons, "He cheated at the game. Let all learn from his mistake, Nivi Rhombodazzle does not sit idle while you toy with The Game. Twist the odds too often and me or one of my brothers will come find you next." Keven leaves, inwardly feeling triumphant at the impression he had made. They will think twice before cheating in the future, Nivi Rhombodazzle should be pleased. If only Keven knew who he had been playing with that night, the looks of horror on the patrons faces might have made a little more sense...

Quirks Because of how his tribe was destroyed, Keven has a special hatred for Arcane casters. He can work with them, but he is intensely distrustful of them, and quick to blame them when things go wrong. Keven will not play any games with a known arcane user and reflexively resists any spell they cast, helpful or not. Other than arcane spell casters, Keven is one of the most friendly gnomes you will ever meet. Keven can make friends anywhere he goes and enjoys sharing a game of chance with new friends. He is always preaching the virtues of games of chance and will often touch the pendant under his shirt and mumble a quick prayer to Nivi Rhombodazzle. Despite his initial reluctance, Keven always carries a journal with him to record his thoughts and reflections on the days events. Perhaps his oddest quirk has to be his penchant to slip into his native Gnomish dialect when he is under considerable stress. He works hard to carry himself like a well educated gnome, but when in the heat of battle or under extreme stress, he grunts and hunches his shoulders, moving like a predator and acting with the brutality of one solely focused on the kill.

[Carthage]

His Regal Eminence
Grantear Vicariat Phrenodyne
Fourth Of His Name
Lord-Apparent Of The Phrenodyne Holdings

Character Sheet   Direct Link

Original Application   Name: Lord Grantear Vicariat Phrenodyne IV   Name Sadly, due to his marked lack of mental agility, the young Lord Phrenodyne answers only to (and can only pronounce) "Gront" Race: Human.   Race Probably. Almost certainly. I mean, that's a big ol' face he's got there, but there's no orcs in Phrenodyne Manor, right?   Really... He is absolutely a half-orc Class: Fighter.   Class I mean, honestly. The best education money can buy, but we still keep finding him just... running around with blunt objects and roaring. The neighbours are beginning to talk. Thank goodness his father can't see him like this. Birth Date & Age: 17, 17th June   Age Mental age, sadly, significantly lower... Birthday is arbitrary. Ever since he learned you get sweets on your birthday, he has claimed every day is his birthday. Social Status: Lord Grantear is of the highest social calibre.   Social Due to the unfortunate incident with the cats and the Lady Austendyre's ermine stole, he is no longer strictly welcome at some society functions. Reputation: Sadly, the Lord Grantear is the butt of many jokes amongst less kind-hearted members of the populace. Luckily, he seems... unconcerned.   Reputation Or, more accurately, completely oblivious. Party Role: The Lord Grantear has a marked proclivity for practical problem-solving of a direct nature.   Role "I help friends, I hit the bad things!" - His Venerance, Lord Grantear Vicariat Phrenodyne IV Short Story Short Story: Ah, spring. The time when a young Lord's thoughts turn to poetry, to the beauty of the female form. Life blooms, the city becomes enlivened once again. Spring was Lord Grantear Vicariat Phrenodyne IV's favourite time of year. Also, cats. Lord Grantear loved cats. Cats, it seems, were oblivious to the young Lord's charms. Now Spring had come again, and the household staff of Phrenodyne Manse wearily resigned themselves to the inevitable. There would be furniture to replace, and scandals to quell. Grantear, fourth of his name, did so love the cats... A crash sounded from upstairs. Humbert, head of the household staff, raised himself from his chair (where he had been polishing the silverware), grasped for his stick and tottered up the stairs to the Lord's chambers. Methodically, he searched each room before encountering an open window by the Lord's bed. He noted, with a total lack of surprise, that Lord Grantear's outfit for the day (assiduously laid out ready the previous evening by Humbert himself) was still hanging over the chair. "KITTY!", came the call from the open window, followed by another crash, the sound of skittering roof tiles and, seconds later, another crash from ground level. Then silence. Then a perturbed meow. Ah. Spring. Background Back Story: Gront was born to Lord Grantear Balshevet Phrenodyne III, and problems immediately ensued. The child was obviously, undeniably, a half-orc. How had this happened? The first rumours were of infidelity, or of orcish rape. But with whom could the Lady have consorted if this was the result? And orc warbands were hardly common currency in the Manse. The truth, as always, was complicated. The Phrenodynes had not always been gentrified urban Lords. They'd ascended those heights in bygone days, warriors fighting on the orcish frontier. There had always been whispered tales of... intermingling. And thus, Gront. Some random genetic throwback, a chromosome expressed that the Phrenodynes preferred silent. His mother and father died in his youth. There's no revenge to be had, no ancient enmity; they were caught in a balcony collapse at the theatre. This left Humbert, Lord Grantear III's trusted valet, with a unique and gargantuan task. The little Lord was now the rightful owner of Phrenodyne Manse, and its associated lands and titles. Gront has made himself unwelcome at many social occasions, but his disarming manner and total absence of malice have warmed some of the hardest hearts in the city's nobility. There is an understanding that Gront will continue to rule the Phrenodyne estates in name, administered by Humbert and some of the late Grantear III's most trusted noble friends, until another scion of the house comes of age. As his nearest living male relative (a cousin) is only 6, this may be some time. It seems only natural to Humbert that Gront should follow in his forebear's footsteps - putting his strong arms to use in defending the city should offset the scandals and rumours that constantly dog the family now. With that in mind, he has organised martial training for his beloved young Lord. Quirks: He loves cats. If there is a cat nearby, you will get nothing out of Gront. It doesn't matter if the demilich is about to kill you all - Gront love kitty. Also, Gront is... huggy. He... he just loves a hug.

[Noobz]

Poshno Nibnolian Zibket

 

FULL TRIPLE Name: Poshno Nibnolian Zibket
Race: Gnome
Class: Cavalier of Hanspur, Order of the Star
Birth Date, Age: Toilday the 2nd of Neth, 64
Height/Weight: 3'5"/35lbs

Social Status: Lower Class
Reputation: Little is known about Poshno. He only recently came to town before setting off to sea. From first appearance he seems withdrawn, of a serious bent of mind, and generally just too down to Golarion for a gnome.

Party Role: Poshno has a relentless spirit about him which puts him at the front line of combat. However, his strength of personality far surpasses the strength of his arm.

Short Story:
"Some say it's a way out--that it leads to the river outside.", said the withered old man, pointing to a small pool in the cavern floor.

"Even if there was, it's probably such a long trip that I'd run out of breath."

"Maybe", says the old man as he feebly tries to swing his pick ax, "But you're small enough to give it a shot. I'm half-tempted to try it myself. I mean, what else is there? Or do you still cling to hope upon hope of a rescue? No one is coming..." Poshno grimaces at the words. Far too long had he waited. "We've both been in this business long enough to know that."

<> <> <>

Time went by, and every hour of every day, Poshno thought of escape. Sometimes he thought of drowning, while other times he thought of being a free gnome. Mostly, he thought of his robbed life due to his own inadequacies, and it was starting to drive him mad. Slave now to his self-loathing more than his captors, he devised a plan to get close to his guard. Swish-shank was the sound of the pic digging into the calf muscle of the guard, protruding through the tibia and sending splinters of bone onto the cavern floor. The lummox cried a terrible shriek of pain, echoing through the cavern, as he fell to the ground. Poshno reared back and came down again with the pick, in the chest, in the neck, in the shoulder--the man's blood gurgling in his throat and tears in his eyes as he tried to yell. He quickly fell silent as the telling blow came. Poshno, grabbed the keys quickly from the guards belt, unfastening his chains. Sounds of men yelling and running came from all directions. With the last chain unlocked, he makes for the pool. "They'll never even think to look here."

Poshno dives in the dark water, swimming blindly. He constantly hit new obstacles but felt his way through them. This way and that, he was lost within a minute, and he knew he would have just as much chance making it back as he would making it out. His lungs were already feeling it. After another minute, his lungs were on fire. Another minute, and they were screaming in agony. He began to feel his senses go. He fought viciously and instinctively as would any person dying a watery death. He could have swore just before he went black that he saw light, but isn't that what all dying people say?

But that blackness turned back into light. With sputtering, gagging, puking, and coughing, Poshno, awakes on a bank of the river outside. Once he collected his wits, he looked around. There was the mine nearly a half mile away. Without any energy left, he somehow managed to jump for joy. I'm FREE!, he congratulated himself secretly--a habit of inward monologue brought on my punishment through years of slavery. At last...

Childhood: As a young gnome, Poshno showed some promise. He was fairly clever, good with words, and had a force of personality that made him appear older than he was. He never tired and possessed uncanny resilience, even for a child. He showed interest in many things, but like many gnomes, he soon acquired a fascination with magic.

Growing Pains: Unfortunately, he never found any skill with magic, nor any with the performing arts, nor any with crafting. He was all talk and soon made a name for himself as a bit of a fool. People kept him around for his jokes and stories, but he never had too many good friends. He ended up leaving his home town to find his way in the world, but he didn't find what he expected.

Current State: After being captured by slavers and sold into bondage (for a price he found to be offensive), he worked in mines, quarries, and countless other slave camps for an unbelievable twenty years. Where others died of living conditions or its complications, sickness, or exhaustion, Poshno survived. Many times, hope of an Andoran raid spread through the camps he was at, but never once did he see any such heroics come to pass. It wasn't until he had lost all hope and had nothing left to lose that he fought for his freedom. Now, he is a different gnome. He no longer looks to others for belonging or happiness. He no longer doubts his own strength. He travels the world looking for his lot in life denied him many years ago, and this time, he's not going to let anyone take his freedom to do so.

Quirks: Poshno has a hatred for slavers, a distrust for tall people, and a surprising new love for the water. He wants to learn how to provide for himself, and to be self-sufficient, because he hates what he used to be. Furthermore, he has self-hatred when thinking of his past--a sort of pain at how he used to run his life. This hatred combined with the pain of slavery for years and years causes him to mutter gibberish at times, deliberately hurt himself, and act out with bursts of emotion.

 

[Spazztick]

Madantya Lin Lightbringer   Madantya's Character Sheet Link   /brings cheezecake. ^^ Application Name: Madantya Lin Lightbringer Race: Human Class: Anti-Paladin Birth Date, Age: The 9th day of Kuthona, on an Oathday. Social Status: Wanderer. Born of an upperclass family, abandoned at a very young age. Once a higher ranking paladin, events have her now following a different path. Reputation: A merciless fighter, one who has fallen from grace. Rumored to be into some weird stuff. Madantya would be recognized as strong ally to covet, and a frightening enemy to have. Party Role: Tank. / Threat generator. Short Story: Madantya Lightbringer spat out some blood, and then glared at the Justicar that had just hit her. This was the third day of her interrogation, one that her own order was forcibly requiring of her. "The sooner you answer the questions truthfully, the sooner your suffering can end. Where is the boy!" He struck her again, his metal gauntlet leaving another deep gash on her chin. Her head bounced back, and she just gritted her teeth and scowled some more. She had already spent the first two days pleading her case, telling them the truth, which apparently was not the truth they wanted to hear. Justicar Reinlaw, the headmaster of the entire order, just shook his head and struck her three more times. He then grabbed her by her cheeks, his cold blood covered gauntlets pressing into her wounds. She couldn't help but let out cry of pain, when he did so. "You let the demon spawn child go Madantya, you left your fellow Paladins of Temora to die to the evil that guarded it." he squeezed her face harder. "Brother Yuri, ans Sister Hayleigh both lost their lives because of you!" She didn't respond, she just kept glaring, remember back to the innocent child that happened to have tainted blood. The torture continued for another few hours, Justicar Reinlaw cleaned the blood off his face, and removed the gear he had been using to torture Madantya. "You will admit your guilt over the next few months... I am sure of that." She went through two more weeks, of being tied up in that god forsaken chair, being tortured and questioned. This would be the last day she would take it, for she had managed to find a weakness in the chair. Mad had both of her arms free now, a small sharp rock tucked away under her arm, and the fury of hate in her eyes. The torturer came in, another higher ranked paladin, one who was obviously on the inner circle of these. Another one of you "kill anything that is evil." fools, with your blind faith. This particular man had administered the torture four times so far, he was particularly slow with his maneuvers, which meant a perfect striking opportunity. She waited for him to start, taking the first few hits and pinpoint stabs, biding her time until just the precise moment. There! He had just buried one of his sharp metal pole's into her thigh, and healed the wound closed around it. Screw the rock. she thought, and then the torturer turned his back to her, talking casually as he headed to get more tools. "You will spend every day in here Madan..." He gasped as a hand closed around the back of his neck, pulled him off balance, and had him falling backwards towards Madantya. Her other hand violently ripped the the rod out of her leg, and reinserted it into the panicked paladin's throat, stabbing him violently many more times than she needed. Mad dropped the body on the floor, and retrieved the man's shield, and one of the weapons that had been used in the torturing. "Not today Brother Markis." She spat out the words, with such disdain that her words came out raspy. She then walked out of the chamber a changed woman, holding a Falcata in one hand, that she deemed had several lives it needed to claim. I'm coming for you Justicar. Word had spread about, rumors saying more than half of the paladin's of Temora being killed, even the Justicar was not heard from for several weeks, though he never admitted to sustaining any injuries. There is now a significant sizable bounty on Madantya's head, which she finds highly amusing, as she bides her time to go back and finish them ALL off. Back-story: Madantya grew up as an orphan, living in a church under the care of Temora Priests, the church resided less than a mile outside of Old Sehir. A priestess had found her dropped off on their door step, when she was but only a year old, with no note or reason, and so they took her in. She was one of three children to be staying at this church, tending to chores, helping patch up wounded travelers and learning about various religions. She attended a school at a nearby human colony, where she learned her the rest of her basic lessons. She had a few friends, but her time being able to spent playing was very limited. However she did manage to go on a few small adventures, and learned some basic fighting techniques with a wooden practice sword. Mad' spent many years at the church, and on her thirteenth birthday, they were visited by Brother Reinlaw, second in command of the entire order, he was impressed at the wit and stubbornness of the girl, and started talking among the priestesses. After a moment, she got offered a place among the paladins of Temora, where she could learn to train in tactics and fighting, and become a paladin herself one day. The thought intrigued her, and so she took them up on the offer. She would spend many years training, growing up and advancing through the ranks of the order. Madantya ended up a higher ranking Paladin of Temora, working straight out of their head temple in Oppara, within the Seven Towers district. She had been heading some very vital missions for her order. She had made several friends along the way, some were still around, and some had been lost in conflict with various unjust and evil, creatures and people. It also wasn't completely uncommon for a paladin of the order to simply go missing, which ended up happening to her closest friend. Dominick Edward Halstead, he joined the young trainees around the same time she did, and the two of them hit it off very well. They both spent many years fighting side by side, all for the will of the Order of Temora. There were methods on missions they went on, that the head paladin's would order, which caused the two of them to question the true motives of this order. One night Madantya and Dominick spoke hushed words atop the temples roof, questioning their leaders actions. One of which involved the purification of an entire family, that had been tainted by demon corruption. Something so foul, that even as experienced a paladin as the others were, they could not truly detect the evil. It wasn't the first occasion something like that had happened. The two spoke for about an hour, before going their separate ways, and that was the last time she saw Dominick. Eventually Madantya could not take it anymore, and she stood up to two higher ranking officers in the field, that were going to kill a five year old child, because they claimed it was an abomination. She would not let it happen, and when she stood her ground demanding a different action, they called her out as a traitor, and attempted to take her life, which was a failed attempt. She ended up escorting the boy out of the city, getting him on a ship and sending him off in the care of a sailor she knew. He would go to a continent where Temora had no reach, and she would be apprehended two days later, and brought back to Oppara for "questioning". The news of Miakata's escape from the head temple in Oppara, and the atrocities they say she had committed spread with it. In reality she only killed six paladins, and grievously wounded the Justicar, before being overwhelmed and was forced to flee. She fled to Ridenport and held out there for a time, healing up from the countless wounds she had suffered from her torture. She would have scars a many, which she openly accepted. It was safe in Ridonport, until the wanted posters of her started popping up, and she was forced to leave the entire region. She ended up taking a boat to the free nation of Andoran, landing in the city of Almas. Almas was the same city she had sent the boy to flee to, and she imagined he was far inland by now, safe away from the persecution of Temora. It was a trying time for her, having lost faith in an organization, she once greatly believed in. As well as denouncing her paladinhood, and looking for alternative options for the strengths she had learned. It was what it was though, and she would not let the 'Order of Temora' every get her, instead she waits, and dreams of the day, she has the chance to take Justicar Reinlaw's head, and kick it off the roof of his damned temple. A Fall from Grace: Quirks: Children frighten her, babies even more so. They connect her to emotions, she no longer wishes to feel. Emotions that she is unsure if she can even feel at all. When I say frighten, it's more than just that, her head will spin and she will have an uncontrollable need to get away from it. There was one occasion, where she threw herself out a second floor window, because a woman holding a crying baby, was standing in the doorway out of the room. She has tried to make effort in getting over this issue, but nothing seems to work. There may be other reasons for this, possibly some memories she has blocked out, but she does not recall anything. Madantya is also socially awkward, and has not truly opened up to another soul, since she abandoned her paladinhood.

[HalflingCavalier]

Melody Wake   Melody Wake's Character Sheet Link   Melody Wake, Cleric of Shelyn Name: Melody Wake Race: Human Class: Cleric of Shelyn Birth Date, Age: She was born on the 9th of Pharast, and she is 18 years old. Social Status: She could be considered from the upper middle class, even before she became a trusted and respected member of the clergy. Reputation: Melody would be known as the easily approachable, very friendly femme who always had a smile on her face. Party Role: Inside combat, she makes for a good buffer and healer, sometimes debuffer in a pinch. Outside of combat, she can easily excel as the party's face! Short Story: "Are you sure about this?" her mother said, lifting her eyes from the soup she was cooking for but a moment, offering a hesitant glance to her daughter, who had already packed up what few items she'd left at their home. "I've never been so sure of anything in all my life, mother. This is what I meant to do. This is how I am supposed to prove myself to Shelyn." "To Shelyn? Or to yourself?" Her father retorts, lowering the book he was reading, reclining in his favorite chair, unable to hide his own apprehension. "Perhaps both? At the same time? I dunno!" Melody answered, exasperated. "All I know is that my faith in Shelyn has taught me to trust my gut feelings, to put faith in the unseen. This is why I am going." There was an uneasy silence for a few moments, until Melody's mother broke it first. Tears flowed freely from the older woman's tired eyes as she flew into her daughter's arms, holding her tight--as if she were afraid that Melody would turn into smoke and slip from her fingers. Melody, for her part, comforted her mother and attempted to hold back her own tears--failing miserably. "It will be alright," Melody assured her mother, "I promise you, that I will always be safe." Back-story: Melody was born and raised in Magnimar, and life as a child started as a happy existence, complete with two loving parents and a supportive extended family. She wanted for nothing as she grew up, and yet in spite of her family's prestige and her many gifts, she never succumbed to the feelings of haughtiness and superiority that her friends shared. Because of this, she was mercilessly bullied as a child, to the point where her parents were forced to relocate to a different part of the city and place her within a small temple dedicated to the goddess of beauty, love, and art--Shelyn. It was here that the young Melody found her calling, receiving small yet poignant visions that she believes came from the Goddess herself. It was in these visions that she saw many horrible, ugly things, perhaps in a far-off land, being cleansed by the light of her chosen deity. With many years of study and prayer, the young human girl finally discovered the spark of divinity within herself, finding the goddess' powers beginning to unlock within her. When this happened, she knew what she had to do... Taking the first boat she could sake up enough money for, the newly ordained cleric of Shelyn would attempt to make her dreams come true, proselytizing across Avistan to all the people she could find who were in need of Shelyn's unique brand of uplifting. Quirks: Melody has a need to be clean! Baths are quite literally one of her favorite things to do, and being dirty for too long would do much to seriously unhinge the poor girl!