[D&D-5e] Yeohven: Fall from Grace

[Maskain]

...with an Odd Glint in the Eye Leon "Glint" Mangrove Son of the Wild Plains "Impede my way will yah? I'll have you know I've bested bigger... oh. You have friends." Race Class Home Background Theme Sheet Rock Gnome Barbarian Plains Nomads Outlander 1 2 link Appearance: Quite the short one that Glint though among his kind he'd look right at par, though he'd likely fail that examination for another reason. He doesn't look at all like what those Rock Gnomes are known to look like! Blonde hair? No tools? Is that a sword in his hands? The short devil is at it again, making a scene and trying to smile his way out of the mess he's made of his attire. I believe that is light padding built into his traveling clothes and some sort of leather gauntlet, now why would he have that applied? He isn't a hunter, he hasn't the build for it! Oh no, he's looking this way, better bite my tongue. He's known to have a crazy glint in his eye that only causes trouble if you are the recipient of that stare. Personality: Whew! He's gone. What, personality? Glint? Well, he's a bit of a tough subject. His mother always raised him to be a good child and he was so for some time. Though as of late he's been quite hot tempered and likes to pick fights with people too big for him. He's due for his pilgrimage into society soon so he might have grown impatient after such a long time of waiting. Hopefully he stays safe and out of danger like his mother's been telling him, so many of the young ones that leave end up playing mercenaries or worse yet- adventurers. So many fall before coming home. Though he's been saying he's going to get by by playing music for people of the road like a regular bard! Some nights I hear he plays his harmonica for the nomads by the fire, but my bones are too old to be out that late in the night so I can't say for sure. Maybe you'd like to go out and listen sometime, I hear he plays such gentle music.   I. Background As a young child Glint traveled beside his parents and his tribe members, a litany of different races that decided it was comfy to live like nomads. To him, the life was a bit drab, but he gained an appreciation for the world beyond what many would gather at his age. The life of a nomad was tough and tiring, but Glint grew to be a spry young adult before long with a wellspring of energy to perform for the people and help others with their work. Due to this tenacity Glint raised his Gnomish body to a standard higher than even some in his tribe, though it never became too evident as his personality always clashed with the concept of him being anything near being a warrior. While Glint garnered a bit of a reputation as a pest for his constant energy being put into bothering others he also gained one as a reliable work-hand that could get things done for the people, as long as it wasn't fighting. After all, he didn't know magic or have the strength of a larger man. Even by this barrier Glint was happy to do the more relaxing work, herding goats and foraging for food were enjoyable to him and it allowed him to read and sleep in the afternoon. He tries to hide his love to read though as he views pursuit of academics to be lame and he isn't lame! Not long after Glint was born his father returned to the dirt as his people always did and the child never really got to know the man. His mother always took care of him and raised him along with the rest of the people as his tribe was close like family to everyone within the tribe. Wakes would occur and new children would be born, as is the way of nature. During his time traveling to a new location with his tribe Glint found his harmonica in the dirt. Enamored by the loud noises he could make with the small piece of metal he played it frequently while herding and learned to make it actually play nice notes. His theory of the small instrument was that it was left for him by a wandering adventurer that knew someone like him would come by to pick it up. If he continues to play it one day he will meet the adventurer again with the power of music. Though that may just be his childish love for tall tales. Glint's original name is Leon Mangrove, but he's been called Glint for so long he barely remembers what his first name actually was. While the gnome is most definitely kind most of the time he has an odd hair-trigger when he is put into a dangerous situation. This is due to his relaxed upbringing where he never had to do much that made him worry. Since he has such a quick fuse Glint can fly off the handle in the middle of a fight and enter a fight-or-flight mode where flight is run and fight is incapacitate and brutalize. Since he never got proper training he doesn't know when to stop and will continue bringing pain until detained or he can't see any form of consciousness in his enemy. II. Goals Glint's Goal: Glint would like nothing more than to explore civilized society and get to know the world outside of his nomadic tribe. Maybe make some friends and some enemies, life should be balance after all. Right? Apparently there are new inventions popping up all over the place, maybe they have some sort of cool contraptions he can bring back to show everybody. My Goal: Glint is a bit of an outsider to society and I want for him to learn his way up the wall he's placed for himself. I'd like for him to grow from his time outside of his tribe, become a better man and maybe learn that he shouldn't just go off and do whatever he wants, whenever he wants to. He has a good heart, but is too keen on listening to it rather than the others around him. III. Secrets Aware: The sword that Glint carries is the prized possession of one of the hunters in his tribe, he is incredibly ashamed he stole it before he left and never gathered the courage to hand it back. Unaware: On his way to Abhain Calmir, Glint traveled with a robed individual for a time. The traveler asked Glint many questions including where he was headed on the days they were venturing together they were travelling. Glint told him of his want to see the city of Abhain Calmir. In the night, after gaining the Gnome's trust, the robed individual performed the ritual Illusory Script on his forehead and disappeared into the night. The script is indecipherable to Glint, but he believes it to be a simple prank by the man. Unaware: Glint was spotted stealing his rapier. The hunter that saw didn't react too much to it and didn't tell anyone until he saw the gnome leave camp wearing the rapier at his waist and a shield on his back. IV. Ties Reia "Finch" Mangrove (Family) - Gnome Nomad. With bright red hair and a thin body covered in a multi-pocketed herbalist's jacket Finch presents herself as a strong figure to listen to and looks like she could go toe-to-toe with just about anyone. Finch is a bit shorter than Glint at 3' 3" and doesn't let that stop her from standing taller than her son. Finch has a tendency to scold Glint over the smallest thing and tried her hardest to get him to study her profession as an herbal medic, but that didn't end well. In her own time she is a strict doctor for the nomads and holds herself in high esteem as most people do. While she is a bit sharp, she still is kind to those that need it very much and looks after people for their own betterment. Zander (Traveling Companion) - Human? Traveler. A 5' 9" tall robed individual that was the first person Glint met outside of his tribe while on his pilgrimage. While his face was mostly covered by the hood Glint saw the man had harshly pale skin and a dower complexion. Glint holds this man in high esteem as he says that he could cast magic and used it to ward off the enemies so good he could never even see them at all. Nice! He really is inquisitive and asked a lot about him, so that must mean he's a listener and a good one at that! He was even taking notes! What a swell guy. Tree-Face (Greatest Enemy) - Kobold Marauder. A tall Kobold at the same size as Glint at 3' 5" that ambushed him the day after he left his home. Nicknamed by Glint after he smashed his face into a nearby tree after the fight was over. A real ******* that ruined his good shirt after all the effort he put into protecting himself. Jeez! Good thing Zander had a needle and thread on him to fix it up later. But that man is so clumsy he even poked him with the needle and had to wipe it off on a nice white cloth, a shame really. V. Quirks Harmonica Glint has to play his harmonica before bed every night. He's been doing it so long to fool everybody in camp that it became a sort of ritual for him and now he feels that he cannot stop. Edged Sword Whenever somebody gets close to his rapier Glint shifts out of the way so they don't get near it, even if it is sheathed. He is a bit too new to using it and has been cut a couple times by it when he started out. Eye of the Storm If somebody looks too hard into his eyes Glint will think that they are challenging him at something and will pester them relentlessly until he feels that he won the challenge. Whatever it was. VI. Son of the Wild Plains Personality: "My instincts have guided me well so far, I'm not likely to betray them. I believe that everyone is worthy of a second chance and tend to trust people that I think mean well." Ideals: "Natural Balance. Nature and man should always co-inhabit the world, it is best if they are always at peace with each other." Bonds: "My clan has raised me to be who I am and I will forever be in their debt for that, no matter the distance I am theirs." Flaws: "If another person is in peril by nature's will I am not there to help them, they are for themselves. When I get into a fight I tend to end it on the ground or in the arms of a guard." VII. Fears and Hopes Fear: If he is alone for too long he will get scared that the others have died since his tribe always said that adventurers die at a rapid rate. Due to this Glint tends to stick to other people like glue. Fear: Glint heard that on the road there are monsters that can twist your mind and render you daft. As much as he stays that using your brain to solve things is not cool, he is keen on keeping his intact. If he ever sees anything that can do such a thing he is likely to run or keep away at all costs. Hope: In his story books and the tall tales he heard from wandering bards Glint took a shining to the giants in the stories. After realizing that giants were, in fact, real he studied up on their language so that he could talk to them and hopefully get the chance at learning a bit about them. If given the chance, Glint will try to talk to giants rather than fight them. Hope: Glint hopes that when he returns home he will be greeted back as a hero rather than a liar for becoming an adventurer instead of the musician he said he would be. In this pursuit he is looking for some way to prove himself before he goes back to his people.   1: How did you get here? "Hmm? Oh, I just came in'tah town earlier! 've been on my way here from the plains to the north nearby the mountains. Mah tribe was nearby so I chose this tah be mah first stop." 2: Why have you come? "Why've I come? A nice town like this deserves a bit of a gander I'd say and it'd be nice to find someone who's lookin' for a stout warrior like me tah join their ranks. 's really nice around here though, but I could do 'thout the buildings blocking the sun. The streets are pretty cold without the heat comin down. D'jah know where I could find a warm inn or the like?" 3: When did it all start? "Mah need for an inn? Since I got here I've been gettin' colder... oh, the adventurin? I just got started a lil bit ago, everyone said it'd be dangerous, but I knew I could handle the job! 4: Who have you met along the way? "Oh! I met a nice man named Zander! He helped me make mah way here with his magicks and cool spells. At least, 'm sure they did somethin cool. I never godda see what it really did to stop the beasties. E's a real nice guy and a bit of a prankster." With a quick motion Glint will lift up his blonde hair, unveiling the upper half of a runic symbol on his forehead. After presenting the symbol he will brush his hair back into place and slap his leg. "'m sure it'll wear off in a lil bit." At that he'll start to rub his forehead and laugh. 5: What is the point? "Was the point of this? It's a classic prank my friend! Zander got me. Really pulled the wool over muh eyes! Though 'm sure the next time I see him I'll have the advantage and a quick scheme of my own." 6: Where next? "Next? Oh yeah, the inn! Thank yah fer remindin me. I'm in need of a warm hearth to sit next to and a bit of a drink. Yah mind givin me some directions?"   A light chuckle escaped the Glint's lips as he flipped to the next page of his new book. His face shifted to a grin and he stared down at a crudely drawn picture of a fire giant, the only reasonably well drawn section of the portrait being the cruel snarl on its face. Their thoughts on the giants really find their way in, don't they? The writing under the picture finished the details of the story of a lone fire giant and his quest for power. With another couple lines of text under the initial paragraph, in a more studious and serious tone, began going through an analysis of the prior story. The young gnome's eyes shifted up to look at the grazing goats surrounding him, returning to his true task before he continued to read. A hornless kid he had named Shrub seemed to be finding a way out of the herd and toward a brook running along a small fissure in the ground. With a sigh the gnome closed his book and placed it into his rough leather bag. "Shrub!" A sharp whistle echoed across the field and a couple goats nearby moved from their positions to stand next to Glint, hearing the signal. "Hook, Wildberry seddle, we're not movin' now." The goats, hearing the command, returned to what they had been doing and Glint began to move after the kid that had been moving further away. Shrub wasn't fully used to following his commands apparently. "Oh, right. I got it..." Trailing off the gnome began rummaging through his pockets and came up with a metal harmonica. He blew across the top and raised it to his lips. Another noise now drifted across the field, much softer than the whistle before. The kid, hearing a memorable tone, began to turn from its goal and spotted the gnome among the other goats. It turned back to the brook, the waters looking tempting. It bleated lightly and stood in place, watching the gnome as he moved across the distance separating them, later moving the instrument from its place between his lips after he finished his approach. "Ya'll always be a sucker fer song shordy." Glint lowered his arms and wrapped them around the animal, raising it up into his hands and continuing toward the brook. "Yah can't go runnin off thout me Shrub, don't need you feedin' the water rather than it tah you." The two settled down next to the water and the kid began to lap at the liquid as the gnome turned between it and the others. With a sigh Glint turned towards the sun for the time and squinted into the distance wistfully. Maybe he got lost in thought though as a splash sounded and the gnome turned back to the goat now being slowly pulled down the with current behind him. Yah gotta be kiddin' me. The gnome dropped his bag and began to jog after the young goat moving down stream.

I'll be finishing this up over the next day or two.

[Svalin]

Pretty much done with my application, If you could PM me any feedback anything you'd like me to add/change that'd be great, If you have the time. Hope everything's alright in RL for you!

[Kyramor]

Hey, MM, in case you get a chance to answer this before I get around to applying, quick question: I'm considering a cleric of the death domain. I don't think that death = evil, but the domain description specifically states that it's for evil characters. Can I squeak this in, or should I do a similar concept through different mechanical means? Either is fine by me!

Decent chance I may even come up with a different concept, but figured I'd ask.

[MontageManiac]

I think that would be acceptable Kyamor, given Raven Queen is death domain. Put it up and I'll make suggestions.

[Maskain]

Finished my application and sheet.

Quick question at you MontageManiac. Harmonicas are a thing in the world, yes? Since there are trains and such I'd think so, but I'd like your affirmative/negative first.

[ByronBulb]

Pat's pretty much done.

[theoryaction]

Withdrawing application for Jul (she joined another game.) Submitting new application for Hjalmar Nilsson.

Jul of the Jungle Name: Jul Age: 16 Race: Human Variant Class: I'm leaving this open for now. I want to fit Jul's role to what the party needs. Will most likely be a stealthy character. Rogue, DEX Fighter, Revised Ranger, Moon Druid/Monk are my preferences. Background: Feral Child Alignment: True Neutral/Good tendencies Appearance: Jul is a creature of the forest. Her clothing and shoes are crafted from the leather and sinew of beasts or the fibers of vines and young trees. Her mousey, blonde hair is twisted and knotty, adorned with colorful shells and tiny glittering stones, and tied with strips of leather or fiber. Wooden and bone trinkets hang from her neck, and long strips of leather spiral up her arms and legs. When hunting, she paints a dark band across her eyes and covers her hair with a headdress made from the skin and small bones of her prey. Personality: Trait: I'm paranoid about traps. I check everywhere for traps, and sometimes I get a bad feeling and I have to check several times. Trait: I love learning new words and hearing them roll off my tongue. I’ll often repeat a word I just learned over and over again. Trait: I’m fascinated by technology. Ideal: I have no concept of Good or Evil; Law or Chaos. Survival is my only mandate. Bond: I really like coins. I have a nice collection. I want more. Flaw: I don't understand the concept of ownership. If someone has something I want, I will take it, if I can.   Jul's Story Jul was raised in the wilds by her mother, a powerful Druid. Jul's mother instructed her from a very young age in bushcraft and hunting, and Jul is able to build primitive tools, weapons, traps, and shelters with materials that can be found in nature. When Jul was 8 years old, she was trekking through the forest with her mother, tracking a large tiger that had encroached into their territory and had been hunting their prey. Jul was following closely behind her mother, watching how her mother stepped over logs and around large ferns to make no sounds or conspicuous movements, when an unexpected and foreign click sounded beneath her mother's forward foot. With a metallic flash, a spiked foot trap snapped up through the decaying leaves on the ground, and bit deep into the muscle and tendons above Jul's mother's ankle. In pain and surprise, she cried out, a sound Jul had never heard before. Her mother started to fall, but a split second after the foot trap was triggered, three barbed, metal spikes, 6 feet long, drove up at a 45 degree angle, impaling Jul's mother through the abdomen and exiting out her back. Jul was mere feet away from her mother when this happened, and her face was spattered with her mother's blood. Through the shock of pain, loss of blood, and organ failure, Jul's mother spent her final moments instructing Jul on how she would survive on her own in the wild. Her final command to Jul was that she 'must never, under any circumstance, go near a village or be detected by the trappers and hunters that occasionally passed through this forest. They will capture you, enslave you, and torture you for their pleasure. NEVER go near them. Do you understand, Jewel?' The lessons that Jul learned on that day (both the final lessons taught by her mother, and the lessons taught by the human's trap) were imprinted upon her soul. For the next 8 years of her life, Jul followed her mother's instructions with fanatical devotion. The bounty of the forest kept her well fed and strong, and she grew into a woman and a powerful hunter. She moved with the stealth, grace, and power of the tiger, and she feared no animal, except for the humans. But she was hidden from their dull eyes, so she needed not fear them, either. Then, change came to the forest, as her mother warned her it would, occasionally. Rain stopped falling, and the trees stopped producing fruit. The parched trees became weakened and vulnerable, and insects bored into their hearts and killed them. The animals could not feed their young, and so the populations diminished. Despite her formidable skill as a hunter and trapper, each week, Jul ate less food than the week before. She began to starve. She knew that humans had food in their houses and in their fields, and she no longer feared the slow-minded apes, so hunger and thirst drove her to begin stealing from the village. One night, a particularly sharp hunger drove her to the human village, and she sneaked into a human house late in the night, with more care than when she stalked tigers. She found bread, potatoes, and venison, and a flask of wine, and she sneaked out of the village, toward the forest. Once she reached the safety of the trees, Jul sat down and began to eat greedily. The liquid inside the flask tasted like rotten fruit, but she drank it anyway and finished it because she was so thirsty. She started to tingle in her face and fingers and chest; it felt alarmingly good. She stood up to put some distance between herself and the village, but she stumbled forward, the world seeming to spin around her. She crawled forward and tried to get up again, but the dizzyness and blackness kept getting stronger. The rotten fruit liquid must have been poisoned by the humans. Her last thought, before she blacked out, was that she had failed her mother and had fallen into one of the humans' traps. Two hours later, the sun rose over the forest and the village, and the farmer's wife went to the pantry to prepare a meager breakfast for her family, and she noticed that her last 2 loaves of bread were missing from the shelf, as well as the potatoes and a flask of wine. In despair, she cried out to her husband, and informed him that all of their food had been stolen, and there was nothing to eat, and no money to buy more. An enraged roar erupted from the farmer's home, and a few moments later, the farmer burst through the back door holding a kitchen knife and a pitchfork, followed closely by two baying hounds. They immediately found the fresh trail that had been laid only 2 hours earlier, and they bounded off towards the edge of the forest, the farmer close behind. Jul stirred from her sleep, as an incomprehensible noise grew nearer and louder. Then, the incessant noise was on top of her and surrounding her. She opened her eyes but was unable to tell one spinning shape from another. She drew her stone knife, and started swinging at the noises and shapes, but she was incapacitated by the poison. Then a large figure rose over her and blacked out the rising sun. "Filthy thief", he spat out. "Steal food from off my family's table, will yeh? Doom my wife and little ones to starve, just so you can have yehself a little party under the moonlight, will yeh? I oughtta stick you and leave yeh for the crows, is what I oughtta do. But I got a bettah purpose for you, right I do. "The farmer flipped his pitchfork around, grasping it by the fork end, and with a grunt, he brought the heavy handle down on Jul's skull. The last thing she saw was the reflection of the sun off the tines of the pitchfork, and it reminded her of the flash of the trap that had killed her mother, 8 years ago.   1: How did you get here? "The man hit Jul and Jul wake up in the box. The box move here with Jul." 2: Why have you come? "Jul try break out the box, box too strong for Jul." 3: When did it all start? "Jul... Jul drink the poison fruit and sleep... Jul get caught by the man." 4: Who have you met along the way? "Jul meet loud, angry man. Jul meet loud, angry dogs. Jul meet cruel dark man. Jul not answer more questions." 5: What is the point? "Point is knife or tooth. Leave Jul alone." 6: Where next? "Jul escape box and cruel dark man, and Jul find you and make you answer questions."   Goals and Secrets Goals: Goal 1: In the wild, Jul is driven to survive. Every moment of her life revolves around food, water, and safety. She knows nothing of higher goals. Goal 2: Escape. Jul is a prisoner in a tiny cage, sold to slavers to pay for a few days worth of food. Once Jul escapes, she intends to go back to her forest. Or, if she is rescued, she might discover new feelings, like gratitude and trust; or she might steal their food and run away. Secrets Secret 1: Jul watched the dark-skinned slaver beat some of the other prisoners, and she also watched him try to mate with a goat, but the goat fought back and knocked the slaver down. Secret 2: There are bears and tigers in Jul's woods, and humans set many traps for them. Jul has fun triggering the traps, when the humans leave, and she takes the parts to use for her tools and weapons. Jul knows that the tigers and bears are thankful that she helps them.   Stormy McLeod - Halfling Bard Originally Posted by Troy The buccaneer beats a hasty retreat from the infirmary and wanders over to the bar where he orders another glass of dark brown spirits and leaves his on the bar. The second drink he carries to the stage, intercepting Stormy after the completion of her performance. "Wonderfully done! This is for you." He says, handing her the drink. "Join me in congratulating your effects overseer?" He motions towards Ceril and raises a questioning eyebrow. "Compliments and free booze! You know exactly what a girl wants, Lash, my friend." Stormy takes a pensive sip of her drink, and is pleasantly surprised. "Absolutely, let's go chat with Ceril now. He's the real star of this show." Originally Posted by DrSabek While Stormy performs in the tavern, Perrin takes the opportunity to gather all the wild flowers he'd been collecting, while he was ahead scouting, and make them into a simple crown. Sneaking into her room, he left it prominently on her bed, before sneaking out out and hurrying to catch the end of her performance. Stormy climbed the stairs to the second level of the inn, humming absentmindedly and tapping her fingernails on the railing. She hoped Lucius enjoyed her performance, and she hoped the tale encouraged him in his role as healer. His comment about Saint Cuthbert of the Cudgel made Stormy suspect Lucius was feeling a little bitterness and regret about his career. She wanted to show him that healers can be heroic, and have as large an impact on the world as any brute swinging a cudgel. A foolish grin crossed her lips as she realized the unintended pun... heh, impact... cudgel... get it? Stormy looked around for someone to laugh with, but nobody was around. God, I'm such a dork. Good thing nobody can read what I'm thinking... Stormy walked down the hall and entered her small room, and she locked the door behind her. She stripped off her leather armor and boots, and untied the string on the front of her shirt, and with considerable anticipation, she headed for the bottle of bourbon whiskey, stashed in her travel pack. It had been four days since her last... With a start, Stormy noticed the arranged wildflowers resting on her bed. In her surprise, a small "Oh.." escaped her lips, and her hand went to her chest. A mysterious person had left a crown of wildflowers as a gift for her... but who...? She picked up the lovely arrangement and placed it on her head, with a beaming grin, and then she took it off and inspected it closely. Her eyes grew wide as she realized that these were the same wildflowers that had been along the road earlier today. It might have been someone in her party... Did I see anyone picking flowers? Not that I know of. Who could it be? Maybe Cirel... no, I think he's asexual. Lucius or Lash? doubtful... Hrm, could have been Perrin. He was off scouting for hours, and he could have picked them. At the thought of Perrin, Stormy smiled sweetly, but sadly. Or what if this is an offering from Askar? That would be sweet, but no... that seemed uncharacteristic. Varis hasn't said three words to me this whole trip. I don't think he can see me, all the way up there... he must be 7 feet tall. That just leaves... ARCHIBALD! Stormy burst into a fit of laughter, at the thought of that cantankerous little gnome, smitten and love-sick. Her guffaws and snorts brought her to her knees, and as she imagined his voice, his heartfelt plea, 'Oh my dearest Stormy, please accept this gift as a symbol of my sweet desire,' Stormy was completely incapacitated by her howls of laughter. She rolled onto her back, kicked her bare legs back and forth, and gasped for breath, while tears poured down her cheeks. Exhausted by her hysterical seizure, Stormy laid on the floor and panted heavily, staring up at the ceiling with a pleased stupor on her face. Occasionally, an after-chuckle would quake her body. After several minutes, her breathing returned to normal, and she sat up and wiped the tears off her cheeks and out of her eyes. Her hands came away smeared with dark makeup. Crap. With stained cheeks and hands, Stormy picked up the wildflowers and placed them inside the water basin, to keep them from wilting. She fetched her bottle of bourbon and poured herself a double. Thirty minutes later, the volume of liquid in the bottle had dropped six inches, and Stormy was sitting on the wooden floor, swaying precariously, and staring fiercely into an illusory image that was floating before her. Her teeth were clenched, and her lips pulled back in a silent snarl. Her eyes glistened and shined with rage and a dark hunger. The floating illusion was of a man, tall, dark-haired, securely bound to an operating table, and naked. Standing over him, was the image of Stormy in a white doctor's robe, a shining blade in her tiny hand. The blade flashed, and the image of Stormy swept down on the image of the man on the table. The illusion started to writhe and silently scream. Stormy's blade flashed again and again, and finally she plunged it down with both hands, and the man on the table went limp. The illusion vanished, and Stormy was alone in her room once more. Already fully intoxicated, but still conscious, Stormy picked up the bourbon and gulped straight from the bottle. She slammed the bottle back down on the floor and sang a sloppy, slurred tune, conjuring another image. This image was blurry and misshaped, but it appeared to be a scene of a small black figure sneaking up behind a larger figure in a dark alley. However, before the small figure could strike, the image shimmered and vanished. Stormy's head sagged, and her eyes rolled back. With a light thud, she fell to the floor and slept. Further Notes: I can post 1/day. I'm currently playing a halfling bard with a very loud personality (charming, manipulative, alcoholic, homicidal), and I want to challenge myself to play a polar opposite character with Jul. Shy, naive, vulnerable, utterly guileless. I imagine that society will make quick work of her innocence, but I'll make holding on to her innocence as long as possible a priority.

[Andrewmeda]

I'm interested and I'll be submitting an application after work.

[gotha]

I had a character I made for another recruitment thread really fast just as a last minute thing. I like the idea of him and want to expand on him, Just want to make sure you dont mind me using him again for this app.? expanded and customized of course.

[LuminousPerianth]

I'm interested and will have an app up soon ^^

[MontageManiac]

@gotha: no issue with that.

[Kyramor]

Aekbetak Aekbetak "The Obverse Stag" Defender and Practitioner of the Ancient Ways "Nothing is more necessary in the preservation of life than is death." Race Class Homeland Background Theme Sheet Half-Elf Oath of the AncientsPaladin The Far West Outlander 1 2 3 LINK I. Background Aekbetak was born to the Chewali Tribe, far, far to the west of the central jewel near which she now resides. Only her childhood years were spent there, learning the old ways that few but scattered tribes still practice--the ways that emphasize the importance of both life and death in the ideal cycle of the world, and the ways that teach, without shrinking from the fact, that evil must have flesh to propagate and that flesh must therefore be taken from it and all dead flesh must be properly sanctified to prevent corruption in death. The years since have been an aimless path leading toward the center of human civilization itself, where she has come to a halt, her black deeds and white deeds both pooling there like ink from a pen left stationary too long. Aekbetak herself isn't quite sure why she lingers at Ab'Cal. A part of her wishes to be a prophet, bringing the old ways to the deaf ears of the metropolis. A part of her wishes simply to do what good she can do herself, perhaps serving a lancet for this pustule of humanity. All she knows is that she must do good, yet she is an outsider who will inevitably have difficulty finding a voice. Aekbetak is not what one might expect from a traditional paladin in service of the Ancients. This ultimately derives from a searing disappointment with humanity, dwarfhood, and all the other races of the world. In her mind, the right ways of living are simple and succinct, not difficult at all to understand, yet exceedingly few seem to even attempt to live by them. Over time, this has lead her to increasingly extreme and increasingly callous interpretations of her path, helping her to stray from the elements of encouraging and engaging in life and reverie in favor of the parts about defending such things. All of this callousness traces back to a man she met a little past the halfway point of her journey to Ab'Cal... This man, though Aekbetak hesitates to call him that, was a paladin, like herself, going by the name of Sir Danver Colliard. Sir Colliard was an adherent to more modern ways of thinking but, she thought at the time, a warrior in the service of good is a warrior in the service of good--he is a boon to the world and should be valued as such. Turns out, servants of good can often only see good--they are blind to the flaws in justice, to the error of insistence upon an ideal outcome, and to the value in things so grotesque as death handled properly. She would never admit it, but Danver was Aekbetak's first crush and, later, the weight that put cracks through her faith. The point is education. The point is to do good. The world continues to move on and "advance" to some presumed positive goal. It is a teleology based on the assumption that the world is ever filled with better people, yet it is a world with real evils that we can see face-to-face. How can anyone believe that new is better? The old ways are best; the ways of blood, of exposing evil incarnate, and of unwavering justice for any who would threaten the natural order of life and light. After Ab'Cal, I expect a grave. One woman cannot hope to survive so many heretics in one place, even if they think her a laughing stock and an oddity to be gawked at. Eventually, one will decide that I am the evil rather than the cure for it. Eventually, one of them will call me a heretic. Yes, I will find myself buried in a heathen grave before my mission is done, but no reasonable woman could expect anything else after embarking on so monumental a task. II. Goals Aekbetak's Goal: For every great feat or holy task that I complete, I will convert one man, woman, or child to the Old Ways. I refuse to be stopped from this by anything but death itself. My Goal: I don't often come into characters with goals in mind for the characters. Instead, my standard goal tends to be finding an idea that intrigues me and letting it go where it will. In this case, I'm curious to see whether a good, wholesome morality can survive and persist in an intensely resentful and cynical shell. III. Secrets Aware: It's all regalia. It's all show. Beneath the mask and the antlers and the fur, I'm barely even a woman. I know without a doubt that none of these fools would listen to a girl barely beyond her foolish teenage years, so I must maintain the facade at all costs, even if it means danger to me or violence to another...within reason. Unaware: There are murmurs about the market district, among the City Guard, and yet elsewhere, all of them about what to do about the antler woman. The general consensus is by no means a good one, and it could mean exile, or worse, should she not reform her bizarre, proselytizing ways. (This isn't the best secret in the world, but for an absurdly moralistic-to-the-point-of-overwrought hermit paladin, it's hard to think of many who would even be concerned with her, much less something they would do/would have done behind her back! ^^ ) IV. Ties High Priest Aconzi Valencar (Hostile)- Priest of Pelor, Human. Male, 53. Ab'Cal local. This man is the bane of Aekbetak's existence within the context of Ab'Cal and, at this point, in life itself. Just like Danver was, he's a man pursuing good at the cost of good. He seeks Aekbetak as a heretic, a pest, and a blight on the market district, over which he is assigned by the church of Pelor. His loud and frequent condemnations have put Aekbetak's work back so much that she might well be further from her goal than she began. Were he not a holy man pursuing a holy path of good, she would be rather tempted to gut the shiny-headed sot. Kakaefi (Friendly)- This guy is the only person in the whole city she's found who originally hailed from the Chewali tribe. They never knew each other growing up, since he's significantly older than her, but visiting with him now and then is an enormous source of comfort in a city where she isn't even allowing herself to show her face, much less let down her guard and speak in a friendly manner. Kakaefi even escapes the usual scrutiny that Aekbetak usually applies to merchants, whose path in life often leads them astray of the Way. Falion Fletcher (Friendly)- This one wanders the forest more than she probably should, but her acceptance of any and every living creature, strange customs or no, is refreshing. She is someone who understands the old ways better than she realizes, simply because she follows the pattern of nature, accepting both life and death in equal measure as a positive way of things. It isn't a perfect outlook, but it's quite good for one of these Easterners. Since Kakaefi doesn't often come outside the walls, Aekbetak spends a large percentage of her nights sitting around a fire with Falion and whoever she might bring along, whether badger or human. V. Memories, Mannerisms, Quirks Mannerism 1: Aekbetak has a tendency to move at a slow, diligent rate outside of urgent situations, both to maintain a certain air of intimidation and to ensure that her absurd mask/headdress/helmet contraption isn't knocked free by a low-hanging object of some sort. Mannerism 2: Aekbetak's whole life these days is playing the character of the Stag, which has led her to be rather awkward and uncertain of what to do with herself when she finds herself forced to socialize without the helmet and garb of her character. Quirk 1: Despite Aekbetak's oath to preserve that which is good, bright, and life-bringing, she's long ago realized that she's not particularly any of those three. Somewhat good, if anything. This has, in turn, led to a tendency to cultivate a group of people who fit these descriptors to surround herself with. This both gives her some people to defend in particular and serves to surround her in those she values. VI. [Outcast of the Chewali Tribe] Personality: Virtually everyone makes me uneasy, and I return the favor. I prefer to avoid all formal social settings, as they are way outside of my range of experience. Ideals: All the world is a battlefield of good versus evil, and people need to realize that the good solution isn't always the nice solution. Bonds: My only tight bond is to the Stag--to the character I play to make me more than an angry outsider. It has made me everything I am today and without it, I can achieve nothing. Flaws: It's easy to forget that principles and morality are not at the top of everyone's list of priorities, which makes it very easy to see wickedness where there is none. VII. Fears and Hopes Fear 1: Aekbetak is afraid of having her alter ego stripped away, leaving her with no-one but herself to take full responsibility for all of her deeds and to talk to everyone who disagrees with her. Fear 2: As an outsider who grew up in a very small-scale society, Aekbetak is wary of and could be said to fear the machinations of bureaucracy and the potential for destruction that lies oft-dormant in the massive motions of bloated metropolitan government. Hope 1: Aekbetak hopes she can spread her message to others sworn to the Oath of the Ancients, or other do-gooders in general, and convince them that the value of good has its limits if evil is allowed to grow at the same time. The implication being that more severe measures are needed, whether socially or by the blade. Hope 2: Though she's lived most of her life as a paladin and though she wears the face of a character to keep others at bay, there's that inevitable young impulse to live a somewhat normal life: to joke around, to kiss someone, to sleep in a bed like most people. Boring, normal, stable.

[MontageManiac]

First batch of feedback, working on the rest as I can.

[MontageManiac]

Another Batch while I can:

[MontageManiac]

Aaaaand one more.