[Characters] Scoundrels and Scalawags

[PopCultureBard]

A colorful cast of characters, to be sure.

[Aerandor]

Kevaran Portent ID: 34371

 

[Darkshard]

Sarah Montahue

 

Race: Human
Class: Fighter (Corsair)
Alignment: CN
Description:

 

Sarah is very tall for a woman, almost topping 6ft. She has the rangy look of a woman who can easily out-lift most men, with long blood-red hair that she is inordinately proud of. Her attitude to life is that you should take what you can get. She's often to be heard giving a loud belly-laugh and shouting to her friends. She's also proud to the point of overconfidence and with a devil-may-care attitude to danger.

Short Background: Sarah was born the bastard daughter of a serving wench and the nobleman Lord Montehue. She took after her father rather than her mother in appearance and in physique, becoming a strapping young lass who could easily best most of the men-at-arms in the training court. Still, being a bastard daughter left her no prospects, and Sarah was easily bored. She joined up as part of the guard for a while, shipping out on one of the Montehue merchant vessels. It was whilst there that she acquired a taste for the sailor's life - drinking, dicing, wenching - well, looking for likely lads, in her case - fighting, and singing. Still, the common sailor didn't earn much. Sarah heard men's talk of adventure on the high seas, islands filled with treasure and holds full of gold, and ambition sent her following those rumours to the Formidable Maid. One day she might even be richer than her father.

RP Sample:

 

The Formidable Maid was an interesting choice of name. Sarah, as she sauntered in grinning, felt as if she owned the place. She didn't of course, but no sailor there could fail to make the connection nor fail to recognise her as Formidable. Sarah wondered who the Formidable Maid really was, and if she was the owner as well as the namesake. Though hoping to meet this woman, she met, though, only a mixture of tavern wenches, busty and lusty, or mousy and meek. She gave the most handsome-looking sailor she could see the eye, looking him up and down saucily. Though he seemed more interested in the serving wench bending down over the table over she saw his grin and answered it with one of her own. He and his mates were all gathered around a table, at which an older man with a thick black beard sat. The others seemed respectful toward him, as though he were in charge. She sauntered over, and brazenly offered to buy the handsome one a drink. It was after the third drink that she asked, leaning tipsily and conspiratorily over her mug, if he'd heard anything about a pirate crew.

She didn't see the glint in his eyes, nor the slight answering nod from the black-bearded man, but suddenly the drink was coming fast. Sarah, confident she could out-drink anyone, kept up with their drinking despite the fact that her mugs had been drugged and theirs had not. Her wooziness she ascribed to the booze... and then at last she slid off her stool with a crash. She heard them telling the barkeep they'd help her out, felt herself slung over a shoulder. Then she knew no more until she woke up in the hold...

 

[DraconigenaArma]

Thomas Mallory

 

[Kshnik]

Jaala Race: Half-orc, female Class: Mighty Godling Role: Tank Description Jaala is typical size for a female half-orc, six feet in height, a bit over 200lbs, dark green skin, various patterns tattoed on her body, pointy ears, and two small tusks slightly protruding upwards from her mouth. Folks find themselves staring at her, not because of her looks or race, there is just something distinctive about her that they cant identify   Background Jaala's father was captured and brought back to the village. Upon seeing him her mother, not that ugly from a humans perspective, claimed her father as hers and within ten moons Jaala was born. A moon after Jaala seven winters a plague, spreading over the lands, hit the village killing one in ten. Unfortunately for Jaala, the plague killed her mother. As her last breath left her body Jaala's father, Known by the villagers as being unattractive especially by human standards, but hardworking, with weakness of having a generous heart, turn to her and stated I loved her as I love you. Unfortunately, my time here is at an end. Jaalas father gave her a hug and stepped out of the hut. Jaala was only a few steps behind but when she stepped outside her father was nowhere to be found. Life would have become difficult for Jaala if her uncle, the village's shaman, had not taken her in as his apprentice. As an apprentice Jaala had to endure long hours, be responsible for a variety of chores, and help with difficult and dangerous rituals; during one ritual Jaala was accidently exposed to bright white energies emanating from a summoned being. Jaala was knocked unconscious and when awoken felt fine so the incident was shrugged off. Jaala hit puberty early for a half-orc allowing her to keep up in size and strength with the other Orcs her age. Even though she was, in a sense, protected by her uncle, she was still a target to various Orcs within the village. The constant abuse irritated Jaala that she, when others struck her, hit back used this emotion to direct and strengthen her strike. Jaala, upon reaching, fourteen winters, adulthood for those in her village, told her uncle she was done being an apprentice gathered her supplies and left the village. Over the past three moons Jaala has been on the move, taking jobs as a guard for various caravans.   roleplay Jaala meanders down the dirt road passing many buildings and shacks as the wind from the sea blows the salt air inland. At the passing of each building Jaala pauses glances at to see if it has a sign. If a sign is present she stops and takes a few breaths of time it takes to read it. Shaking her head at each she continues until she arrives at a well-lit building, compared to the others, with the words etched into the dark wooden sign. She smiles as she reads the two words as she reflects I am a formidable maiden while striding up the stairs and pushes the filthy door, stepping into the establishment. Jaala inhales deeply taking in the variety of aromas as her eyes scans the patrons noting the various races. As she scans her eyes identifies a human, male, with a black beard, as the most likely leader of a crew probably bandits, no pirates . Jaala continues to scrutinize the customers, marking a few, a few humans, male and female, a couple of halflings, to keep an eye on. As she steps farther in she is able to discern a few of the clients glancing her way a bit longer than normal. She can only imagine what they are thinking about her. She is draped in a large orange hooded cloak, covering up light tan cotton pants and shirt. She has a small sheath strapped to each of her forearms and thighs, and the handle of a large sword can be seen protruding over her right shoulder. A glint of silver from her chainmail can be seen peeking out from underneath the shirt. Across her chest is a small symbol made of wood dangling from rope that runs around her neck. Jaala slides to the end of the bar, finds a spot where her back is protected from the bar and waits. As one of the servants of the establishment approaches her Jaala gestures her away. Jaala is not as attractive as most of the girls in the tavern but is exotic enough in appearance that a few free drinks will come her way. Jaala was well into drinking her fourth mug when the room began to swim. Jaala is able to find a place to sit in time for her to lay her head down as the darkness arrives.

[Khodexus]

Morgan Feyett Character ID: 34211

[iwood2465]

Bharash the Exile
Race Undine
Age 86
Alignment Chaotic Neutral
Class Cleric

Description Bharash stands at 5'7" and weighs close to 168 lbs. His coloring is like the sea and sky: his skin is a muted sea green, his eyes are dark flashing cobalt and his hair is cerulean like the evening sky. His hair would fall to his shoulders, but is held up in large, tight knots at each side of his neck and he sports a full beard. His ears are finned and his fingers webbed.
He wears worn breastplate, bears a heavy wooden shield and carries a simple rapier at his side. His pants are worn but serviceable leather and his feet are bare. Like many undines, he looks around with what seems like an unshakable calm, though his eyes are known to flash with emotion.

Background For Bharash, and the great majority of undines, the water is his home. Born and raised in a small floating settlement southeast of Desperation Bay, he knew little of outside races growing up, except the tales that traders and privateers would bring back. Before reaching adulthood at 60 years, he loved stories of the outsiders, though many were not complimentary. Upon reaching adulthood, he was taken under the wing of a Besmaran chaplain, who taught Bharash many things over the years, of the fickle nature of the sea, and of the glories She sought. Enamored with the stories, and naturally self serving, he excelled in his studies. He began to study piracy, as well as he could, so he could join the privateer fleet.

That was not to be, not Besmara's will, perhaps. In his training, he excelled, but in his fervor he became zealous and easily provoked. A young man on the cusp of manhood, a well regarded prospect of the Watersingers, insulted the ways of Besmara and in a flash of rage, Bharash sought to punish the lad. While he didn't mean to kill the boy, fate had decided. Brought before a community tribunal, he was exiled from his people and set on a raft to make his way. He decided that he was destined to serve the Pirate Queen among the outsiders, and made his way north towards Port Peril.

RP Sample A storm was raging as he docked his raft in Port Peril, and headed towards the Formidable Maiden, on the suggestion of some lowly dock rat. He lets a slight scowl slip as he surveys the Maiden, but is smooth faced as he looks around inside, surrounded by outsiders. He works his mouth, missing the taste of fish. He thinks to himself as he makes his way towards the bar, ordering a pint and a meal, 'Tonight may not be the night for an overture. It's been... two days since I ate. A night, recover, or I may show my weakness like one of these buffoons. But soon, I'll be on a ship, by the Pirate Queen' He sighs and finds a shadowy corner, watching the room quietly until his order arrives. He eats his food hurriedly, clearing half the plate before drinking of his ale. As he sighs in contentment, he feels his head swim fitfully... His eyes widen in realization just before he slumps to the floor, unconscious as he is carried away.

[slapstick]

Estalyr Swift