[Characters] Character Sheets

[MittenNinja]

Please post your character sheets here, along with any item wishlists you'd like to draw up.

[Ange]

Character Name: Rashele D'Avion

Race: Half-Elf

Class: Cunning Bard/Rogue

Level: 1

Gender: Female

Alignment: Good

 

Appearance: Though not an imposing figure in the slightest, Rashele is nonetheless quite fit, possessed of the toned and sculpted musculature of one accustomed to working outdoors. There are more clues to her mariner profession: normally pale skin tanned in bands of brownness, feminine hands that are surprisingly rough and calloused, and a nose that seems slightly askew, as if it has been broken and reassembled once or twice. A healthy brush of freckles dances beneath eyes the colour of the sea, always bright and sparkling with a healthy glow of cheeky confidence. Her dark brown hair, stained somewhat grey from too many voyages under the sun, is generally kept tied back in a tight ponytail, although once let free it hangs down below her shoulder blades, messy and uneven. All about her is an air of rogueish charm, from a constant lopsided grin to the cheeky arch of her eyebrows to the overconfident swagger in her hips.

Rashele is rarely seen without her trademark red captain's hat, variably described as being stolen from an evil pirate lord to a gift from her parents upon gaining control of her own ship. Her ears are each pierced in three places along the lobes, two with gold studs and one affixed with a seagull feather stained rose; an albatross feather decorated in similar style adorns her jaunted hat. Rashele's clothes are simultaneously utilitarian and stylish; a white buttoned shirt torn accompanies a fancy red leather coat, complete with gold trimming and buckles aplenty, both torn off at the sleeves to allow for unrestricted movement. Below the waist are featured simple leather slacks in tandem with tough leather boots, buckled and steel-toed for maximum protection. Around her neck sits a cord necklace, upon which is tied the yellowed tooth of a shark, or perhaps the claw from a dragon; Rashele prefers to leave the specifics up to the observer's imagination.

 

Personality: Yes, Rashele is confident in herself. That's blatantly obvious to anyone who lays eyes upon her. She walks the walk and talks the talk, paying little heed of the waves she makes when she does so. She's feisty and quick-tempered, and more than willing to throw herself into the fracas to prove a point. Years around brutish sailors have taught her crude brashness and irreverence, and as a result she often suffers from what she describes as 'foot-in-mouth syndrome' when she winds up saying the wrong thing to the wrong person at the wrong time. Sometimes Rashele simply lacks common sense. She's thoughtful to a point, but sometimes she just stops thinking, it seems.

Though happy to dole out ample amounts of faux friendliness and cheer, Rashele trusts in others rarely, and has a strong dislike of dependence—either herself depending on others or others depending on her. Ultimately, for all the chattiness one may get out of Rashele, it's likely that they will later realise that she has given up almost nothing of herself in the exchange. Despite her tendency to mock and tease, and use all her femininely assets to her advantage, the girl is not one for interpersonal relationships, and indeed will be quick to shoot down any male advances whether verbally or through thorough application of the 'SING' technique (solar plexus, instep, nose, groin). She has issues with intimacy, and is scared of giving herself up to another person, and so covers it all up with rough insults or violence.

Though she's quite the tomboy outwardly, Rashele has never forgotten her childhood dreams, and is fiercely protective of idealists and children as a result. She enjoys beautiful scenes of nature (especially the ocean and coastlines), classy environs with nice music, food, and wine, and the fine arts. Books are something she adores, and, given the opportunity, would probably amass quite the library. Of course, she's not too interested in waxing romantic poetry or befuddled philosophical ramblings; she loves action! Intrigue! Crime! Magic! Battles! Dragons! All the sorts of things she dreamed about as a child that never quite came to fruition. Rashele still retains her idealism, though, and strives for a world without suffering where everyone can live out their dreams. The realities of the world have not crushed her spirit completely, though she currently desperately seeks some meaning beyond the life of a sailor.

 

Background: Rashele's early years were spent in a land where dragons stole away fair maidens to their towers, adroit adventurers explored dangerous dungeons filled with deadly traps, great demons were pulled back to the Abyss by holy warriors, and swashbuckling heroes saved the day with a rapier in one hand and voluptuous lass in the other. Her mother, guilty of falling for a roving elven swashbuckler in her younger years, was forced to raise Rashele on her own. She worked in the seaside tavern where they lived in as a barkeep, cook, and server, gaining enough money from the wages and tips to let the two live a fairly comfortable life. While her mother worked, Rashele would either remain upstairs reading thrilling epics of adventure, or head downstairs to be told fabulous stories by the passing adventurers and mariners that stopped by. The impressionable young girl took all these tales to heart, growing up with a starry-eyed, rose-tinted view of the world.

As she grew older, Rashele was so enamoured with the idea of becoming an adventurer that she practiced swordplay in secret, usually with sticks or brooms that she found lying around. She'd stay out till late at night, tumbling and play fighting with the other local kids down at the docks and regaling them with her own epic stories, improvised versions of the tales she'd been told. Every now and then some half-drunk sailors would be so impressed by her storytelling capabilities that they'd toss her a few coins in appreciation; Rashele hoarded these coins to purchase ever more books of lore, consuming what was on the pages with a ferocious appetite for knowledge. Her elven heritage seemed to even afford her a modicum of natural arcane talent, bolstering her swordplay and even wrestling with an unpredictable amount of extra force. Rashele felt on top of the world.

When she hit the age that most young kids want to start trying to spread their wings and see the world, Rashele said farewell to her mother abruptly one night and jumped aboard a trading ship, begging and pleading until she was taken on as a cabin boy (well, girl, in this case). The young half-elf was excited to finally experience the life of adventure she'd been reading about.

Of course, life isn't really like that. Her years aboard various ships taught her as much. The work was gruelling; the sailors stank like the nine hells; and the bullying, the sexism, the raucous laughter as the men undressed her with their eyes and threatened all sorts of awful acts upon her... where was the adventure in this? Every time she seemed to find the one sailor who was worth her time, something bad would wind up happening. Either it was all a lie to try and get into her pants, or he would be goaded into doing something by his crewmates whilst drunk, or he would be ostracised by the same for simply being a gentleman. If not for her surprisingly dextrous form honed from years playing with the boys back home, Rashele would have found herself in a number of extremely awkward situations that she couldn't get out. In any case, the events took a toll on her psyche; this was not the life of adventure she was looking for. It made her grow quickly, far before her years would suggest—especially for a half-elf, typically described as maturing slowly from their elfblood.

She yearned for something, although she did not know what—and that's when Nathyn came along. Nathyn listened intently to her stories, her woes, her dreams, her childhood memories. He promised her the world in return for nothing, devoting himself to her. They would adventure, he promised. They would see all the wonders of the world. They would answer to none but themselves, and live a life dedicated to utmost happiness! It seemed almost too good for Rashele, but she was desperate for anything to escape the soul-shattering torment that reality was dealing to her childhood idealism that she fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Of course, the illusion was broken when she discovered him not only in the arms of a couple of whores in a busy port named Raven's Rock, but using her wallet to pay for it. A few sharp kicks to his groin later confirmed the obvious, and Rashele took what was left of Nathyn's possessions and left in disgust. She'd had enough of the back-stabbing lifestyle of a mariner. There was nothing in it for her anymore. It was all just lies and heartbreak, not at all like the stories she had been told as a child.

The metropolis of Raven's Rock loomed tall before her. Perhaps there would be something for her within its bustling interior...

 

Last Updated: 9/12/11
The following items are basically sorted by slot, and are in more or less order of desire for each slot, but I'd be happy with anything, honestly. I'm limiting it to items between 5 levels of my character (currently 1-6).

Weapon (cutlass / short sword)
- I'm happy with my harmonic songblade for now!
- Bardic Songblade +2 (6+)
- Farbond Spellblade +1 (2+) - Later I might multiclass to swordmage so I can use any weapon quality instead of just the songblade ones, like this one. We'll see.

Armor (hide)
- Battle Harness +1 (4+)
- Nightmare Ward Armor +1 (3+)
- Serpentskin Armor +1 (2+)

Shield (light shield)
- Shield of Eyes (4+)
- Floating Shield (1+)
- Battleforged Shield (4+)

Arms
- Iron Armbands of Power (6)
- Bloodthirst Bracers (4)

Feet
- Acrobat Boots (2)
- Catstep Boots (3)
- Swiftpad Boots (3)

Hands
- Flaying Gloves (4)
- Hedge Wizard's Gloves (4)
- Luckbender Gloves (6)

Head
- Circlet of Second Chances (3)
- Eyes of Charming (6)

Neck
- Amulet of Physical Resolve (2+)
- Amulet of Mental Resolve (2+)
- Lucky Charm (4+)

Waist
- Belt of Vigor (2)
- Belt of the Flanker's Bane (6)

[sammichweasel]

Fang

Race / Class: Kobold / Battlemind (MC Bard)

Appearance: A stout little lizardling, broad for his race, but as lean as ever. He comes clad in thick hides, with a grimmace set on his face that suggests a determination not typically found in his people. Or anywhere near them, really. His scaled face has a few missing, suggesting either a molt or some sort of hardship. Since no one knows that much about kobolds, it's anyone's guess. His armor and weapons are all emblazoned with a shield with a stylized fang within it.

Personality: Fang is determined, hyperfocused (in the ADHD meaning of the phrase), and deadset on his goals. He will do anything to get his name and personally-designed crest out there, recognized, and remembered. He wishes to become someone *important*, and doesn't care that he's a kobold in a warm-blooded world. He writes his own ballads, and seeks to have them published.

Background: Fang was just another kobold, sitting in just another warren, being assaulted by just another band of heroes trying to eliminate the "kobold threat". He was bored by the whole thing, and wondering why the heck his people lived like this. They were constantly beset, and all they ever did to earn the perpetual slaughter was what, raid a few caravans? It seemed so... barely heroic.

He decided to change all that. He didn't want to be a nobody, a random "kobold warrior" that some shmo with a chip on his shoulder because his village was wiped out in a daring raid by Lord Horrible and his last-of-the-line-of-kings elven companion beat on because they wanted to try out their new magic toys before taking on a "real" challenge. He was going to take the fight to the rest of the world, and make a name of himself in the process.

It was about when he made this decision that he discovered his odd set of abilities, channeling his own focus and determination to make what he wanted, happen. He struck out from his warren on his own, managed to secure passage on a ship without getting himself gutted by any mistrusting town guards, and has arrived in Raven's Rock to make the (new) name Fang one that every person in the city knows.

RP Sample:
"To be clear, ah, what is it you're looking for again?" The clerk glanced down at the scaled petitioner, a bushy eyebrow arched steeper than a northerner's roof.

"Do I really need to explain this again? This symbol. I want it in your leaflet. With this text." Fang stretched up on his tip-toes, pointing a taloned finger at his advertisement on the counter. His crested eyeridges barely poked over the edge of the oak.

"Ah, yes. 'Fang's Company, ready-to-hire, trained bodyguards.'" The dusty-palored human held the sheet at arm's length, adjusting his glasses to interpret the crude scratchings. "Is that a hand, or something?"

"A fang! A Bahamut-damned FANG! And don't forget the last part." He jumped, catching his armpit on the counter to point at the very bottom of the sheet. "'The BEST bodyguards money can buy!'"

The human stroked at his mustache that matched his eyebrows, staring in disbelief at Fang. "Well, I suppose we don't really care what we print, as long as you pay. By the by, you DO have the money for this, right? I can't run a tab with a first-time printing."

Fang stared back, furrowing his eyeridge in disdain. "Look, I need to get hired to make money. I need the ad to get hired. You saying I need money to get the ad?"

The clerk got an extra shade paler, before clearing his throat and looking to the guard at the door with wide, beseaching eyes. Fang could see this was not going to end in his favor.

[girlplay]

Character Name: Mai-lana
Race / Class: Windsoul Genasi / Psion (telekenetic build)
Appearance: Mai-lana is young, pretty, and demure. She is physically weak for a Genasi - small and skinny, skinny, skinny.




Character sheet here.

Personality: Unlike most Genasi, Mai-lana lacks self confidence. She is naturally demure, shy, and humble. She does not think of herself as a hero or even an adventurer. Her heart is filled with compassion and kindness, however, leading her to want to help others when possible.

Background: Mai-lana grew up in a Genasi community of a larger Dwarven settlement, nestled in a large valley in the northern mountains. The Dwarves tended to their own business and shunned outsiders but realized the value of trade and used the Genasi as intermediaries in relating to the outside world. Her parents owned an operated a prosperous trading company, and held a position of high regard amongst their peers. It was only natural that in time rivals would grow resentful and envious of their success. One of merchant houses, House Rodlinen came up with a devious plan to hit them where it would really hurt. Since they could not compete with them in business, they decided that to ruin them that they would strike where it would hurt them personally.

Their youngest daughter was cute, demure, and utterly precious to them - despite not showing much ambition or promise in helping with the family business. So, the merchant house hired some less-than-savory mercenaries named ironically The Radiant Sword to kidnap Mai-lana. They took her away from her home, to a hide-out in a small coastal community. Her parents and most of the rest of the family spared no expense and effort in trying to find and retrieve their daughter - which is exactly what House Rodlinen wanted. In the family's absense, they and some of their allied houses craftily usurped their position.

Meanwhile, Mai-lana's family finally tracked down their daughter and assaulted the mercenary stronghold in an attempt to rescue her. The attack failed and her parents were captured. The mercenaries then demanded a much higher ransom for the girl and her parents than the merchant house was capable of paying. They figured they were owned because of the losses they incurred from the Genasi attack. Their goal accomplished, House Rodlinen saw no reason to pay the ransom. In an effort to gain some kind of monetary compensation from their prisoners, the mercenaries sold the Genasi, including Mai-lana, into slavery.

Mai-lana arrives in Raven's Rock as a slave to a ship's captain. She has been sold and resold a few times - her value growing as she has come of age. She has clung to faith as her only source of consolation and peace, given the indiginity of her existence. Captain Jon-Drew (Human) is, of course, no fool and knows that he needed to keep a close eye on her and her developing psionic power. However, Mai-lana's submissive nature and lack of ambition allay most of his fears. Secretly, Mai-lana wishes to be free... She also hopes to eventually find whoever survives of her family.

Item Wishlist:
Orb of Nimble Thought +1 (Lvl 3, PH3, p. 207)
Cloth armor of necrotic resistance +1 (Lvl 2, AV, p. 41)
Collar of Recovery +1 (Lvl 4, AV, p. 151)
Barbed Baldric (Lvl 5, AV, p. 164)
Obsidian Steed (Lvl 5, AV, P. 182)

[TheBog]

Garr character sheet

Hopefully that link works. That's roughly what I had in mind for Garr, but of course I'm willing to make changes to work more in tune/have more interesting party dynamic. In particular I'm curious to see what Larrent's got in mind for Maivern.
For my starting lvl 2 magic item I went with a vicious dagger for that extra oomph. Also goes well with the fact that gnolls are built for charging. And for my theme I went with outlaw, because that's super obvious. Now Garr's got 2 encounter powers that daze.
I'll come up with my magic item wishlist in a little while, and I'll also transfer the character info to one of DDOG's own character sheets.

Picture:

 

Character Name: Garr
Race / Class: Gnoll rogue
Appearance:

 

Garr is not a sight for sore eyes; he’s likely the cause. This mangy gnoll lost his eye early in the service and was urged to wear a patch when the crew complained that he would stare into their souls with the unblinking gaze of his empty socket. His orange/brown mottled fur has been stained over the years he has spent on the sea, and under his black rags he wears sun-dried hard leather armor.

Personality:

 

Arguably his only weakness (besides his social skills), Garr’s love for his kitten Scarr is rivaled only by his loyalty to the pack. The gnoll is often found in his pitch black bunk privately playing with the kitten, or watching it sleep curled up against him. Not that he’ll ever admit having a soft spot, nor would anyone dare bring it up. He often speaks seemingly in third person until you realize he's talking about him and his pet.

The gnoll’s loyalty is unquestionable, though often betrayed in his eyes. He acts as a sort of mutiny repellant, unless, of course, it’s the captain’s trust that is in question. He does not have a sense of humor, almost to a hilarious degree.

Garr views his kitten Scarr as the original and everlasting member of his pack and holds him in higher regard than any other crew member, splitting his food with him, his bed, and any other pleasantry he can muster. Likewise, if anyone threatens or displeases Scarr, Garr makes it known. The kitten is typically kept safe in his bag on his side.

Despite being on the run from the human law of the coast, Garr feels the need to work together with humans to prove his civility. And at the same time, he knows what he does best comes from his roots. He needs to find a pack that will be strong, fearless, and loyal; a pack he can depend on; a new family. The coast appeared more tolerant of someone with Garr’s employment history.

Background:

 

Raised on a jungle island, Garr’s pack struck a deal to work hand in hand with the seafaring forces of the coastal cities, one of them being Raven’s Rock. Never catching a glimpse of the grand city itself, Garr was employed on a prison ship belonging to Raven Rock’s magistrate responsible for catching deserters of war(though in times of peace it was relegated to protecting shipping routes). The crew was reluctant, but was forced to take the gnoll in as conscription was yielding poor results. Within a few days, a “misunderstanding” led to the cat being thrown overboard, unbeknownst to the gnoll. Finding his pet missing, Garr waited until the cover of darkness before dragging the man responsible down into the cargo hold and relieving him of his duties on this world. The stories say that in the morning there was nothing left of him but a pool of blood and some bone splinters.

Thus ended Garr’s legal employment with the coast. His prison/death sentence (unjust, if you ask him) was cut short the night before his scheduled execution on a prison island close to shore. Just as all hope was lost and Garr was coming to terms with the inevitability of death, in the darkness of his cell another kitten came to see him. Instantly sensing a connection and an opportunity, the gnoll befriended it. Within an hour, he trained the kitten to snatch the prison key from the hip of a sleeping guard, and before long, he was on his way to freedom. But he couldn’t go back out into the world. His wanted posters were plastered on the wall of every barracks, and with the mess he left back at the prison, it was unlikely that the magistrate would see things his way.

The other side of the continent looked particularly pleasant this time of year… Garr would need to lay low for a while. And when the time is right, and the opportunity arises, Garr will again offer his services to Raven’s Rock. This time he will venture forth into the very heart of the city to prove himself in person… Who knows.. maybe someone won’t recognize a one-eyed sea-faring gnoll.

Roleplay Sample:

 

Brent sucks in the salty sea air, standing in front of the rotting cabin door. Raising his hand to knock, he hesitates and turns to look over his shoulder. He’s met with the disapproving gaze of the glowering captain who fixes his hat and dusts off his uniform.

“.. What’re you lookin’ at!?.. I said get the gnoll! We’ll be hittin’ shore in a few minutes.” The captain clears his throat with a hacking cough and heads to the front deck.

A knock. No answer… The sailor breathes a sigh of relief and turns to leave.

“Yes. We’re here.”

The deep growling voice eminating from behind the door sends shivers up Brent’s spine. The heavy wooden door is slowly pushed open with a long loud creak. A strong smell of wet dog fills his nostrils. The cabin is pitch black except for a solitary dying candle in the middle of the floor. In the far corner Brent can see the outline of the gnoll sitting hunched over, face cast in shadow, his one eye catching the light and reflecting it, seemingly glowing from underneath his hood. And in his clutches another pair of smaller green eyes.. and a faint purring.

“The uh.. The captain wants you out up front. We’re about to hit shore.

Garr scratches Scarr behind his little ear, getting the kitten to rub his head into the giant claw, telling him he likes it there. Leaning down and sniffing the cat with his snout as it bats at him playfully. Brent rubs his forehead and looks to the side, embarrassed.

“You will come with us to retrieve the prisoner.”

“N-no.. No I won’t be doin’ that, Garr. Captain wants me on the ship with’em for uh.. protection and such.”

“We feel regret… There is no better way to know members of your pack than to fight with them or beside them…”

“Yeah. Somethin’ like that. I totally wish I could come with ya to sneak into a fortified deathtrap to risk my life for some piece of trash a fat rich man’s got a beef with."

“You are wrong. Human flesh is different from what you call beef.. I know.” The big furry figure rises up, still holding his pet. “Who will accompany us to get this man?”

Brent scratches his beard scruff. “Actually.. the Captain’s got you goin’ in alone on this one.”

Garr snarls at hearing this news, showing his jagged teeth, visibly agitated.
“Hrrrrgh.. They wish to keep us from the rest of the pack.. They fear we’ll tear them limb from limb!” Garr squints and drags out the word limb, lifting his hand and dragging his claws along the wall, splintering it. “For months we slave at the hands of humans with not so much as a word of defiance! Not a single scratch! No drop of blood!” Garr stops stops himself, realizing Scarr is still in his other hand and he does not want to hurt his best friend. Sighing.

“…My reputation precedes me.. We understand that we must work hard to gain your trust.” The gnoll raises the kitten up carefully over his head and lays him between his ears, freeing up his hands. With which he grabs a long crooked dagger and a short sword with dried blood still on it.

“We will bring back your beef human.. Alive.. but hurt.”

[BZmek]

Philbin of Brackenberry

Race / Class: Halfling Harrier Battlemind.
Gender: Male
Alignment: Good

 

Appearance: Having spent a life more often in taverns than not, Philbin is in surprisingly good condition, his smooth pink face and muscular frame refusing to surrender to the aging effects of too much mead. However he has not been fully untouched by the strains he has put on his body. His once thick brown hair and the fur on his chin now a dusty beige, and that sparkle in his pale blue eyes shines just a little less each day. Hinting that the young gambler has seen more than his years should normally have allowed. A physical distraction that the crafty cardsman uses to his advantage, letting his opponents get lost in the contrasts of his visage, never able to get a sure read on the Halfling.

In the true tone of an attention seeking show-off, Philbin dresses to impress and make those around him feel socially inferior. His fanciful attire the rewards of grand bets with lofty ante’s that the Halfling has won. His thick red leather coat, adorned with many buckles, golden buttons and a single red rosebud, covers his strategically placed and snug fitting scale armour. His ears are each pierced multiple times and his thumbs brandish expensive gold rings fit for one of noble descent. Hanging across the broad of his back is a leather scabbard infused with a sophisticated gold pattern, nursing a skilfully crafted short sword with a matching gold and leather hilt encasing a red ruby eye. Strapped firmly in place on his right shoulder is Philbin’s journal, a detailed recounting of his entire life. Should a bypasser ever stumble upon the halfling’s corpse, the grand story of his life be at hand to be added to the historical libraries of the world.

 

Personality: There are two things in life that Philbin absolutely loves: gambling and mead, the Halfling diving headlong into the two at any opportunity that surfaces. Should something, or someone, come between Philbin and his two loves then all should beware, for they will find themselves one unhappy, grumbling and more than likely hostile Halfling. In his element though, Philbin is a cheery sight, full of laughter and boastings over his mastery of his two most favourite activities.

Philbin’s addiction to gambling is ever present in all aspects of his life with the Halfling placing bets on just about any subject matter, be it how many orcs are beyond the next door, a wenches response to one of his companions advances, or even simply over the general arrangements of the next tavern that the group will happen upon.

 

Background: Having visited many taverns at the side of his father when he was young, Philbin discovered early the happiness that can come from the seat of a card table or the bottom of an drained tankard. He also become aware that such happy environments can easily and quickly turn into a table flipping and window smashing battlefield. So it was with the apple never falling far from the tree, Philbin was destined to follow in his fathers’ footsteps, learning the strategies to successful gambling and swordsmanship, mastery of the two being essential in his line of work.
When the young Halfling’s clan wasn’t settled near a village or city and exploiting the local populace for their earnings, Philbin was studying the rules of the many card and dice games of the world, he was swinging his sword and practicing the skill of Harriering: the art of short distance teleporting, a feat that will more than once save the small sized battler when tussling with the bigger races.

Philbin earned himself quite the reputation for his prowess at the card table and for the drunken stupors that he would often find himself in. He quickly rose to be one of the favoured game wranglers of the clan, providing a rich income for the nomads. Unfortunately for the clan of Brackenberry, one of Philbin’s drunken stupors segregated the Halfling from his people when he groggily awoke one misty morning to find himself aboard a seafaring vessel, far from the shores of the port his people were exploiting. Unable to convince the captain of the ship to turn about, Philbin decided to embrace his current situation and it wasn’t long until he had a complete gambling operation going below deck, robbing his fellow shipmates of their small earnings.

Things were panning out great for the Halfling as his pockets were filling, up until the night before the ship was due to dock in Raven’s Rock. The sore losing crew had grown frustrated with his lucky winnings and accused him of cheating. They beat poor Philbin unconscious and stole back their losses.

Philbin awoke the next morning mid-flight as one of the deck hands threw him from the ship to the docks landing. He hit the ground with a solid thud. Slowly and sorely he dragged himself to his feet, dusting the dried salt from his leather jacket and nursing his pained ribs. At least the crew were kind enough to leave him with the belongings he came aboard with. Having been kicked off the ship before its sail back to the port he had come from, and no coin left to buy entry onto another, Philbin turned about to regard this new place that he found himself. He had heard some of the crew mention its name, Raven’s Rock, but he nothing more about his surroundings. He looked around at the rest of the docks, trying to discern the location of the nearest tavern to try and re-establish his wealth. With any luck he might just be able to earn enough to buy a fare back to his clan, the Brackenberry’s.

Magic item wishlist to come.

[larrent]

Maivern Seven Toes Klossinger Character Sheet

Character Name: Maivern "Seven Toes" Klossinger (Male)

Race / Class: Dwarf / Rogue

Appearance: Typically dwarven body - short, stocky, and burly. Smoky dark black hair, and a peachy skinned complexion. A plethora of scars litter his face, which date the dwarf's years well beyond his current youth - though the dwarf will never share his exact age.

Personality: A rough and gruff demeanor mask a quiet soul that is tormented by both shame and guilt. Though Maivern means good, misfortune and circumstance has left him with the mindset that the ends always justify the means. But his actions are never this blunt - experience has taught Maivern this on more than one occasion and he has leart it best to hide one's true motives. Maivern, appropriately finds it difficult to trust people - but is still always welcome to a good laugh and a good ale, and would prefer to be with others than to be alone.

Background: Even the gentlest of men can harbor the darkest of secrets. Maivern knows this well. Moreso, he knows it foolish to place loyalty into the company of other men, even dwarves, and even family. As the sixth born of a large dwarven family, Maivern thought his destiny would be like most of the family before him - hours of mining, endless toil and sweat - but it all seemed peaceful and right in the young dwarf's eyes. As a young laborer, he was prone to mischief and would often escape his work duties in the mine's to enjoy the finer pleasantries in life - comradery, ale, and dwarven women. Among his family, he was often ridiculed as having "seven toes" due to his unusually large feet. Maivern enjoyed it though - large feet allowed him to step softly, ideal for sneaking out of the mine.

Unfortunate for Maivern, he lived at a dark time in his family's history. Born among his siblings was a treacherous brother - one whom he, and all others, once loved. This brother would come to end his family's lineage, as he quite literally traded their lives for financial gain. The exact events that had transpired may never be known to the outside world - Maivern, to his knowledge is one of the last remaining Klossinger's and has deeply repressed his family's dire past. Maivern to this day is still haunted by vivid nightmares of the last days among his family. The incident is the cause for much of the dwarf's current demeanor. Maivern began to favor the life of a an "adventurer", as there was no true honor or reward to being a hard working honest laborer.

Seeking to escape it all, Maivern sought a new environment in life. The mines and the country would no longer do... they reminded him of his past. The large cities of men seemed appealing - there would be much action, much excitement... and many opportunities both legal or otherwise. After acquiring enough wealth to comfortably travel, Maivern sought out the nearest port for passage to Raven's Rock. Though he had never been there, the tails he heard indicated that the town was sizable, and robust with activity. Surely it would employ and entertain the dwarf enough to make the nightmares stop.


Magic Item Wishlist:To Come