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  #1  
Old 12-15-2017, 12:04 AM
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Please post a link to your character in here, along with any information you think is relevant to the other players, such as background, personality etc.
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Old 12-17-2017, 06:43 PM
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Harmony Maddox:
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Character Name: Harmony Maddox
Race: Halfling
Class: Rogue (Thief/Criminal) (Possible Arcane Trickster)
Personality: Harmony is almost always cheerful, after all, a winning smile is the key to good business. Behind the winning smile that never wavers is a hardened criminal, She'll steal your hard-earned coin as you walk down the street if you are too careless to keep an eye on it. She justifies her living with a simple saying, 'Finders Keepers' She often finds things that others don't know to hold onto.

Appearance: Harmony stands about three feet tall and weighs in the realm of thirty five pounds. She is easily missed which is just the way she likes it. She has curly dark brown hair that goes down to her shoulder blades but she often ties it in a ponytail to keep it tame. She wears three silver earrings in each ear, the lowest one in her left earlobe dangles a bit with the symbol of Mystra and the lowest one on her right earlobe dangles a little with a little black mask, the symbol of Mask, the god of thieves. She often wears a dark blue shirt under and brown trousers under tight-fitting leather armor and being a city-halfling, she always wears soft-soled boots that come halfway up her calves.

Backstory: Harmony was born in the city of Ilispar, Her father was a locksmith and her mother was a cobbler. Harmony did her best to learn both crafts since, what else was she going to be worth if not? As she grew up, she quickly realized that her parents were on the low end of financial stability and it didn't take long for little Harmony to come up with a great plan to fix that, at least, she thought it was a great plan. Little Harmony, a little slip of a girl was easily overlooked and with her dexterous fingers she easily lifted whatever coin she could as she wander through the crowded markets, Picking pastries from merchant stalls like picking cherries from a tree, Not one person the wiser that they had just lost their share. Depositing her earnings was even easier, Harmony's parents would keep all the money they earned in a little belt pouch that hung on the bedpost of the small bed that the three of them shared. She would secretly drop a few coins a day from her liftings every day, not enough to notice. Her father would get to counting and wonder where that extra three coins came from, shrug and assume it was from a generous customer.

Everything changed when Gideon Mistbourne talked himself into power that day. She had been atop the battlements, squeezed between the hips of two soldiers and staring out between the parapets. She had grown into adulthood by then but still lived with her parents to help them out, their advanced age making for cramps in the hands that made work like locksmithing and cobbling near impossible. Curse the poverty! That day she decided to set herself up for life, She was going to rob Mistbourne of everything that man had. She would whisk her family out of the city and they would all live like kings, far away from here.

RP Sample: Harmony held close to her leather-clad breast, the warm slice of bread that she had wrapped up from her dinner that night. She stole down the street which was easy for her, slipping through alleyways and from shadow to shadow, unnoticed before slipping into a tavern and into a back room, the appointed meeting place of her and some other halflings who had had the same thought as her the day before when Mistbourne had marched into the city. The small, smoky chamber was already occupied by three other halflings, two of them lounging on small couches or in chairs, pipes alight and lips flapping quietly between one another. As Harmony entered, she laid a map on the table that sat in the middle of the small room and she crossed to the only halfling that wasn't smoking. The little creature was half-starved and emaciated. Harmony unfolded the slice of warm bread and helped the starving halfling to eat it, poor sod.
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The planning began immediately after, The first to speak was a portly halfling with wearing a velvet vest and trousers, a silver pocket watch chain hung across his rotund belly. He took the pipe from his mouth and pointed it at Harmony, "They're going about making sure everyone in this city has some skill to lend to his people, Anybody who ain't useful is vanishing."

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The next one to speak is a white-haired old woman wearing a rich red, ankle-length dress and a fur shawl, her voice crackles as she removes her pipe and speaks, "You listen to me, Bertrand, The only ones that have anything to worry about are the ones in this room, sitting the council and in our old age with nothing to offer and that's what we are here to solve."

Harmony finishes helping the emaciated halfling finish the bread before interjecting between the two councilors, "Quit your bickering, You two, Put your mouths and minds to that map over there, You show me the secret passageways in the keep and I'll make sure you two get a share of the wealth." The two aged councilor's rocked from their comfortable seats and approached the table where laid the map.

No sooner than they started discussing the secret passageways, arguing a bit, the door to the room burst open, Mistbourne's enforcers were here, "Councilor Bertrand and Witherspoon, Just the two we were looking for!" One enforcer exited the room, dragging the two fumbling and flailing halflings from the room. The enforcer that followed drew up a dagger from his belt and pointed it at Harmony and the weak halfling who shivered and cowered in fear, "Who are you two, Have you anything to offer to Lord Mistbourne?"

Harmony stammered out, "I--I'm a Cobbler!"

The enforcer gave her a confused look, "A what?" Spit showered over Harmony as the man towered over her.

"I fix shoes and boots!" It was the only thing she could think of to save her hide. The enforcer approved and nodded but grabbed up the cowering halfling and drug him from the room without much fight at all. With the sudden burst into the room, the table had been knocked clean to the wall and Harmony knelt to roll up the map again, She would have to find a different way into the Keep.
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Last edited by Arthilian01; 03-30-2018 at 10:58 PM.
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  #3  
Old 12-17-2017, 08:16 PM
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Ichabod Gainsborough
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Character Name: Ichabod Gainsborough

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Class: Cleric (Life)

Background: Acolyte

Personality:
 


Appearance: An older man looking to be just above 40 years of age with a short brown beard and a full head of shoulder length, messy brown hair, Ichabod is of average height and wiry in build, his skin sun tanned as a testament to the years of work he has done under the open sky on many farming fields in service to his goddess and his family. The wrinkles around his green eyes and across his face speak of a life of hard living, and a smile can seldom be seen on his face outside of the times he is working the land in some form or another, and his gaze always seems to wander all about him to take in his surroundings. He is most often seen wearing simple browns when going about his business as well as his holy symbol of Chauntea around his neck, but never anything which could be considered flashy. If one were to take a good look at his hands, they would notice how they are quite callused, the skin hardened from the work Ichabod has done.

Backstory:
 


RP Sample:
 




Last edited by Crocodile; 12-21-2017 at 04:07 PM.
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Old 12-17-2017, 10:43 PM
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The Showman
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Character Name: Kadric Alebraid
Race: Mountain Dwarf
Class: Fighter (Going to battle master eventually)

Description (Personality/Appearance):

Kadric is a stout dwarf with bright blonde hair he keeps short and clean along with his beard. He is well muscled from years of training in the gladiatorial arts. His skin is occasionally marred by scars of battles fought in the arena as well as tattoos that detail his victories over fierce opponents, but otherwise he keeps a very good hygiene regime for his skin and hair. He has bright blue eyes that gleam with playful mischief. The dwarf wears armor, but it wouldn't provide much protection normally unless the wearer had received Kadric's training. Chain arm covers, plated greaves, and leather straps allow for easy of movement while protecting other parts of his body. He is noted to be remarkably handsome and charming, enough so to catch the eye of the wealthy women in Ilispar on occasion.

Kadric has always been possessed by a thirst for the fleeting pleasures of life. His love of wine and women, coupled with his arrogance, is unmatched by any of his fellow gladiators. Though he could take down opponents with swift efficiency, he demonstrates showmanship by pacing his fights with a variety of attacks, demonstrating graphically gruesome executions while laughing and roaring for the spectators. He boasts that he could take on gladiators with his bare hands and even willingly allows himself to be disarmed in the arena to create a greater spectacle. Though he pursues physical female companionship on a constant basis, Kadric does not mistreat women, and beyond the cockiness there is an underlying sense of honor about him that creeps to the surface, especially around his mentor Nemetes.

Description (Background: Entertainer/Gladiator):

An orphan from birth, Kadric had a hard life living on the streets of Ilispar. After multiple run-ins with the city guard, he was eventually placed in debtors prison for the large sum of food and wine he had stolen throughout his youth. Eventually he was purchased as a slave by Septus Tarsus to be trained in the nobleman's ludus, or gladiator school. It was there that Kadric grew into his new role of entertainer and occasional death dealer. He trained, fought, drank, and made love as the years past, his skills becoming sharper and his arrogance growing. The man had all he wished for in life and couldn't, or perhaps chose not to, see the end of it.

As Gideon Mistbourne's army drew ever closer to the city, the games were held less often, feasts became rare, and no one cheered him as they once did. It soured the man, made him grow bitter and hate the oncoming warriors who fought under enemy's flag. Septus Tarsus' gladiators were press ganged into service to defend the people once the army set up camp around the city walls. While Kadric put up no fight as the guard sergeant led him and his comrades off to a section of the wall, he wondered at the effectiveness of pitting gladiators, slave gladiators at that, against disciplined and batte-hardened war veterans.

RP Sample:


The Munus of Nocturus Verinius


The stone walls of the holding area shuddered softly in time with the crowd's clapping and stomping. The smell of feces and urine filled Kadric's nostrils as he paced behind wrought iron bars of the gate, eager to start his bout with Astorus. The editor of the games was giving a lengthy speech about his father's honor in a battle against barbarian tribes to the north in a droning monotone voice. The dwarf was even clad in a replica of the human's armor, purchased at great cost by the Nocturus to help dress the façade of the grudge match about to occur in the arena. Astorus had a way of enraging Kadric beyond reason, always stealing the dwarf's chance at glory in the main spectacles of other games throughout Kadric's career. That cowardly, half-elven boy lover is about to learn what a real man feels like! As the thought moved through his head, the dwarf snorted like a bull ready to charge. Nemetes noticed the act and moved to place a hand on his pupil's shoulder.

"Nine Hells boy, calm yourself! Set mind to task and forgo thoughts of vengeance. You are to fight Astorus yes, but not kill him unless the editor of the games requests it." The barking command of his mentor set Kadric into a calmer state and the dwarf looked to his friend and mentor with a grin. "What you say is true, Doctore, but perhaps I can convince the crowd the man has finally earned his glorious end in the arena?" The gladiator chuckled as he stepped upon the sand through the now open gate. "Enter Kadirc, Dimachaerus" The dwarf lifted his twin axes and roared along with the crowd that greeted him. He spun slowly as he moved towards the center of combat space, laughing and pointing to beautiful women in the stands. After a few moments of revelry, the crowd died down and Nocturus announced the opponent. "Enter Astorus, Hoplomachus!" To Kadric's dismay, the crowd cheered equally loud for the half-elf as he hoisted his spear. The two men locked eyes and awaited the command to start. "For the glory of Ilispar, BEGIN!"

Kadric rushed forward, shouting curses as he went while both men swung their weapons with deadly purpose. After a short flurry of blows, the dwarf found an opening. He shifted past Astorus' guard and cut a deep gash on the half-elf's thigh, drawing first blood. The crowd roared their approval and began to cheer for more! "BLOOD, BLOOD, BLOOD!" The gladiator faced them with a laugh and cheer of his own, but was cut short by the sounds of swift moving armored feet behind him. He ducked beneath the spear swipe, but was not fast enough to entirely avoid its edge. Kadric's left arm had been slashed by the spear tip and he could feel his strength wane in his axe grip. He roared his frustration as the crowd deafened his hearing. They did not care from whence the blood flowed, only that it flowed. He stabbed the axe heads into the sand and raised his fists to the half-elf, goading him to attack. He side stepped the telegraphed spear thrust and pushed forward to deliver two quick jabs to Astorus's face followed by an upper cut to the ribs.

He had knocked the wind out of his opponent and had slowed him down with cut on his legs. All that was left to do was give the crowd a dazzling finale. One they shall remember as the end of the fool Astorus, the weak! The dwarf rolled away from the half-elf and recovered his axes. He attacked more aggressively, pushing his advantage over the wounded spearman. Finally, Kadric knocked away a slow stab by Astorus, the man's weariness and lack of training clearly shown, and leapt up into the air with a battlecry to bury his axe head into the half-elf's skull. The arena erupted as if struck by a thunderclap, cheering his name. KADRIC! KADRIC! KADRIC! The dwarf had earned his glory and as he strode off the sands, his visage that of the God of War, he thought to himself: I live a blessed life, and I think it shall be forever so...
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Last edited by Anea; 12-18-2017 at 10:59 AM.
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Old 12-18-2017, 01:52 AM
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Crowley Donebris
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Character Name: Crowley Donebris (Cr-owl-lee Dun-eb-ree)
Race: Tiefling
Class: Warlock (Hexblade)
Background: Merchant (Guild Artisan Variant)

Personality: Quick of whit, Crowley often takes advantage of any perceived opportunity to lighten the mood. After all, a customer in a good disposition is often more willing to part with their coin. Crowley is a businessman first and a friend...second-ish. He is the proud owner of The Goods within the city of Ilispar, where he buys and sells trinkets, odds-and-ends, and the occasional shiny object that may have been procured through questionable means, though he sticks to his strict don't-ask-don't-tell policy. Crowley is an efficient salesman and, while proud of his integrity, is not beneath using loopholes to his benefit. Despite his affinity for self-preservation and self-interest, Crowley does posses the ability to be affectionate...he just buries it deep...deep, deep down.

Appearance: The tiefling salesman sees himself as a walking advertisement of his store, and for that reason, will most often be seen wearing expensive-looking, dark-colored clothing. Crowley is a bit larger for his breed, standing at just over six feet tall with broad shoulders to match. The curved horns protruding out from his forehead and the unmistakable pointed ears of a fiend, easily give away his demon blood. Unlike many tieflings, however, Crowley is without a tail and his skin more closely resembles that of his human father's light complexion; the red-brown color of his beard displaying the coexistence of both sides coursing through him.

Backstory: Crowley hails from a smaller town called Renfael, about a day's ride from Ilispar. His father was a businessman, of sorts, as well. Mr. Donebris was a hired blade that spent most of his life working and, when confronted with the realization that he may never father an heir to his name, made a blood pact with a fiend-kin of the Shadowfell named Shreelaz that he met in his travels. She offered him a son in exchange for, seemingly, nothing in return. Crowley's father was a selfish man and did not care to inquire further before making the deal and thus, a debt was to be paid by his son.

Mr. Donebris' ignorance was rewarded with a tiefling child, not the human he had assumed he would receive. Nevertheless, he raised him as his own, though he remained cold towards Crowley for most of his young years. They only recently settled in Renfael for the few years before his father's passing. After that, the young teifling set out to make a life for himself in Ilispar, after serving the mandatory martial training that was required of all citizens. Crowley found that he had a gift for the blade, though he was not sure where that power came from since he served as his father's pack mule, rather than fighting along side him all those years. Crowley, however, recognized that he had a way with people and went into business for himself - and what better way to make a living than in sales!

RP Sample: Though appearing a bit run-down on the outside, the interior of The Goods was well lit and most appealing to the eye. The walls were lined with shelves that carried numerous items ranging from the more common, to the extravagant, and even the bizarre. The well-dressed tiefling behind the counter looked up from his scribblings as the bell above the entrance rang and the door swung open to reveal a pair of soldiers clad in armor that was unfamiliar to the store owner.

"Welcome to The Goods! Judging by your attire, and the smudging on your chest plate there, would you be in the market for some polishing compound? Or at least an extravagant rag to wipe some of that off?" The merchant stuck out a finger and made a circular motion at the scuffed armor.

The soldiers maintained their stoic gaze and scanned the store before addressing the owner. "What is your name and why aren’t you on the wall with the others during the surrender? Lord Mistbourne requires all citizens of Ilispar to submit and all those capable to join his ranks."

"Ah yes, that." The shopkeeper paused to clear his throat. His voice was gruff, but with a certain suaveness that seemed to match his exterior perfectly. "Well, I do have a shop to run and I don't get paid days off. I am Crowley Donebris, the owner of the fine establishment you two find yourselves in. Now that introductions have been made, how abou-"

"No more talking. Either you leave your shop willingly or we drag you from it." The impatient guard pulled his sword from its sheath and pointed it at Crowley's throat.

The tiefling raised an eyebrow as his eyes glanced down at the blade. "Well, if we're going to be whipping things out, then I suppose I should show you mine." Crowley reached below the counter and smirked as the other guard shouted at him to halt. "Easy there." He raised his empty left hand while his right continued to dig under the counter before producing, what appeared to be, an ornate cane. "Ah, here it is." Seeing the two men relax a bit, Crowley grabbed the other end and pulled, revealing a polished steel blade sheathed within the wooden rod.

"Mine's a bit longer, I think." Were the final goading words spoken by the shop owner before the frustrated soldier slammed the hilt of his blade into Crowley's left temple, rendering the tiefling unconscious.
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Last edited by MrCeeJ; 12-18-2017 at 01:57 PM.
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Old 12-18-2017, 02:02 AM
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Slick the Wizard
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Name: Slick
Race: High Elf
Class: Wizard
Background: Proficiencies: Stealth, Sleight of Hand, Disguise Kit, Thieves' Tools
Feature: City Secrets - You know the secret patterns and flow to cities and can find passages through the urban sprawl that others would miss. When you are not in combat, you (and companions you lead) can travel between any two locations in the city twice as fast as your speed would normally allow.
Tool(s)/Language(s): Common, Goblin, Elven
Trait: They say I'm old enough to fight, but I still feel like a child.
Trait: I hate seeing suffering, especially in the weak and poor.
Trait: I am proud of my origin, and I never attempt to hide it from people.
Ideal: Compassion is the most valuable virtue, even compassion for one's enemies.
Bond: I can't stand by, and watch people suffer without offering aid or protection.
Flaw: I can't help but snatch things that don't belong to me.
Urchin

Physical Description/Background: Slick is a High Elf boy of undetermined age (probably ~16) who grew up on the streets of Ilispar as an urchin. He has short, unevenly hacked light-brown hair, and a perpetually dirty face. He goes by 'Slick', because that's what the other urchins called him. His Wizard skills are self-taught, by sneaking into The Academy, watching instructors teach their students, and by stealing books.

One day, a few years ago, Slick was sneaking out of a library window with a bag full of books on summoning familiars, and he was caught by a senior instructor, who swiftly snatched Slick, and emptied the contents of his bag on the ground. Intrigued by the little thief's choice of contraband, the instructor quickly ascertained that Slick had magical talent, and instead of dragging him off to the city watch for incarceration, the instructor decided to offer Slick room, board, and an education.

Because all of this hidden and forbidden knowledge was now offered freely to Slick, he quickly turned out to be an excellent return on investment, consuming knowledge at a stunning rate. In just two months, Slick was moved from his own age group into advanced learning classes.

However, Slick had a hard time adjusting to Academy life. All the other students knew his background, and shunned him. On the streets, Slick had a few close friends, but inside the Academy, he only had his familiar.

And when one grows up on the streets, one learns how to survive, and one develops certain socially unacceptable habits. Within a week of Slick moving into the student dorms, it became a known fact that if you set down a piece of food or something shiny or interesting, and looked away for a moment, that food or object would disappear forever. Nobody ever caught Slick, but of course, everyone knew it was him.
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Last edited by theoryaction; 12-18-2017 at 11:47 AM.
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Old 12-18-2017, 05:24 AM
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Hande MaaritsdottirName: Hande Maaritsdottir
Race: Aasimar (Fallen)
Class: Warlock (The Fiend)
Background: Feature: Heart of Darkness Those who look into your eyes can see you have faced unimaginable horror and that you are no stranger to darkness. Though they may fear you, commoners will extend you every courtesy and do their utmost to help you. Unless you have shown yourself to be a danger to them, they will even take up arms to fight alongside you, should you find yourself facing and enemy alone.
Proficiencies: Investigation, Survival
Language: Abyssal
Gothic Trinket: Flag from a Ship Lost at Sea
Harrowing Event: Loss of her angelic guide/father figure and subsequent replacement of said guide with a cruel fiend.
Trait: I don't talk about the thing that torments me. I'd rather not burden others with my curse.
Trait: I like to collect trinkets and charms which I find on my travels. I figure there's always the off chance that they might give me some relief from Calder, and if not then at least they provide a distraction for me.
Ideal: I try to help those in need, no matter what the personal cost.
Ideal: I will either stop the fiends which haunt me, or die trying. I must never become the monster they see in me.
Bond: A terrible guilt consumes me. I hope that I can find redemption through my actions.
Bond: I would sacrifice my life and my soul to protect the innocent.
Flaw: I don't fully trust anyone.
Haunted One (Curse of Strahd)

Appearance: Hande is tall, gaunt, and rather pale, her skin appearing to shimmer in the right light as if flecked with mother of pearl. Her eyes are a shifting off-white colour reminiscent of pearls, and her hair tends to slowly mat itself into kelp-like strands if she doesn't tend to it every few days. Her hair appears to be black at first glance, though if one cares to look closer they would see it to be a particularly deep blue-green. She typically dresses in loose black robes with sea-green wave designs on the hem and collar, underneath which she wears her armour. She wears a cowl which appears to be fashioned from an old ship's flag. It is crimson, and bears an image of a golden trident piercing a blue-grey viperfish. She wears a number of simple charms hanging about her person, though whether they are anything more than superstitious knick-knacks is anyone's guess. At the least they give her some peace of mind.
 

Personality: Hande is timid and quiet, yet is possessed of a competitive streak a mile long and is quick to act in the defense of others. It is often at times such as these when her patron chooses to whisper dark thoughts into her ear.

That's right my little pearl, save them. Lure them into a false sense of security, and that's when you strike! I imagine that purse of gold could feed you for months to come, and they can't have come by it honestly. Nobody who belongs around here has that much without performing some dark deeds. You'd be doing the neighbourhood a favour!

She tries to drown it out, but more often of late she finds such thoughts creeping into her head unbidden, with no input from her patron. She tries to shut them out, but worries that she is becoming exactly the monster her patron wishes her to be. Years of Calder whispering in her ear have also left her rather un-trusting of everyone, even those whom she saves.

 

 
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Last edited by Kaelhound; 12-18-2017 at 12:37 PM.
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Old 12-18-2017, 06:05 AM
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Karth Roantry - Half-orc Fighter
 

Character Name: Karth Roantry
Race: Half-orc
Class: Fighter

Description (Personality/Appearance):
A quiet, diligent, honourable man, Ugarth has always striven to be in control, to show that his heritage doesn’t define him. He stands straight and tall, and never makes a move or says a word without due consideration of its effects.
He feels fortunate that he has pale human-like skin and thick dark hair and that his only prominent orcish features are his small tusks and slightly bulbous nose.

Description (Background):
Growing up around mostly humans, Karth as a half-orc was subjected to the sort of teasing you would expect. His father, Felmar, instilled in him the confidence and discipline necessary to allow the insults to slide off him. His mother, Druhla, taught him that the teasing came from a place of fear, and that if he acted honourably and respectfully people would learn that they needn’t fear him.

Felmar was the blacksmith of the town, but he hadn’t always been so. Once he had been a soldier and he had found the infant Karth towards the end of his last campaign. He never spoke of the circumstances of the discovery and Karth never felt like asking; he knew his parents loved him and that was enough. Felmar taught Karth discipline the only way he knew how, by drilling him relentlessly with physical and martial excercises. In this way Karth grew into adulthood as a strong and able young man, and bowing to the inevitable he joined the city watch. His life was comfortable and he happily wed a local girl and they had a child (which Karth was happy to see had no obvious orcish traits). The city was at peace and Karth thought his life would continue like this until a death of old age surrounded by grandchildren, but it seems fate is cruel.

RP Sample:
Snow crunches under his feet as Karth trudges down the avenue, his breath clouding in front of him in brief puffs. A smile creases the corners of his mouth as he remembers the dinner he had just left. The whole family had gathered for the third birthday of his daughter, Annabel. His wife, Jolea, had spent the day in her mother’s house baking a cake with ingredients bought fresh from the market; flour from the local miller, eggs from a farm just outside the walls and, most special of all, pure white sugar imported from some far away land. The cake had been light and fluffy, and tasted like ambrosia to Karth. He had gazed in wonder at Jolea as she played with Annabel and wondered, not for the first time, how he had got so lucky.

His steady tread brings him to the east gate where torches burn in the sconces all around the entrance, casting a yellow glow on the crisp white snow flakes falling all around. Karth stops for a moment, admiring the beauty, before pushing open the side door to the guard tower. Inside is a rude wooden ladder with rungs worn smooth, which he climbs up as he has done many times before. At the top he enters into the guard quarters which are situated directly over the gate. Large windows overlook the city, rooftops glinting white all the way to the keep at the other end of town. The east wall only has small slits through which a cold wind howls making Karth shiver. A fire burns in an alcove between the windows and standing around it are four people in the same dull mail and blue cloak that Karth wears.

They turn at his entrance, pausing the conversation that they’d been having for a moment.

"S’not like you t’ be late, Fang," says Velmar, the squad leader and one of Karth’s best friends despite her annoying tendency to remind the half-orc of his heritage.

Karth nods and warms his hands over the fire.

"Sorry, Annabel wanted me to read her another story. Her birthday treat," he says with a rueful smile.

"You’re with me tonight," says Tobin the halfling with a grin, "We’re doin’ the long walk."

Karth stifles a groan. It is a tradition that on holidays when the wall might be under-manned, each gate would send one patrol all the way around the walls in a long circuit, visiting each gate in turn and sharing news as they go. The long walk had been established back in the days when hostile raiding parties would be regularly sighted in the area, but these days it is completely unnecessary. Peace reigns and there are no enemies left. Many in the city are getting disgruntled that their tax money is going to fund a completely unnecessary defence force when it could be used for civic programs or, even better, not taken from them at all.

"You’ll be on my shoulders as usual then, Tobin?" The laughter from the group is subdued, this is an old joke.

"The two-headed warden rides again!" says Velmar, but she grows serious, "Keep your eyes open. I was just fillin’ the boys in ‘bout the rumours. A merchant came in today. Said he saw a big plume a’ dust a ways behind him. It’s probably nothin’ just a merchant trying’ ta drive up prices or somethin’ but some scouts were sent out. Until they’re back… just be careful."

Velmar has some elf-blood in her and she is one of the few in the watch who can remember the last time an enemy had come to the city. Her dire predictions of calamity are commonplace, and are one of the main reasons that the squad remains so well-drilled.

Karth nods and takes one of the thick warm cloaks from the peg beside the door,

"C’mon then Tobin, I need you to keep my ears warm."
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  #9  
Old 05-24-2018, 11:04 PM
Fritz Fritz is offline
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Name:Michael Reaves

Race: half elf

Class: Rouge

Background: Detective

Description : Reaves (as he liked to be called) was tall at 6,4. his hair was mostly a dark brown with a few white strands going from front to back on the left side. he is built well but not overly large. he is always talking to someone trying to make new connections. plays on his luck more often then full proof planing. never one to run out on a debt or betray a friend.

Backstory: Reaves grew up on the streets of Arabel with only an older brother named roger. when Reaves was 14 Roger was killed by a guard captain and it was covered up. after a year of favors and fist fights he was able t get proof of the captains misdeeds. after presenting the proof to he city councle the captain was hung. Reaves having proved himself in some capacity the city would continue to ask him to find people or dig up evidence of some crime they could not. But more than that he began to help the local people with the city guard. he was outside of the city politics and could fight for the people when things were unfair. when he turns 21 he given a business licence for the city to practice P.I. But its never long before Reaves finds himself in trouble again.
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