[Characters] The Painted Masks We Call Ours

[Naresh]

Characters here:

Name:
Race:
Class:
Appearance:
Background:
Personality:

A picture would be nice to go with it too

 

Level 3. 4d6 for stats. 3,000gp cash. pick 2 flavourful traits (PM me if unsure)
If there's anything I've missed let me know
-Races: PM me if anything other than the core few, but most should be fine (though no outsiders, native or otherwise)
-Classes again, anything other than core PM me, but anything should be fine. NO gunslingers though
-Archetypes - I love them. So should you. I'd love it if you used them
Max HP at lv 1, roll for every level thereafter
Minimum HP values:
d6: 2
d8: 3
d:10 4
d12: 5

-Bug

[Alisard]

Name: RoChiva of Clan Treewalker

Race: Catfolk

Class: Rogue

Appearance:
RoChiva stands five and a half feet tall, with black fur, and piercing emerald eyes. He wears a shirt of leather, and carries a bow and arrow. A scimitar lies strapped across his back.
Background:
RoChiva grew up on the plains, in a typical catfolk tribe. At a young age, she showed such an empathy towards the nature and wildlife around him, that he was apprenticed to the tribe shaman (druid). He rarely took his abilities seriously, preparing to explore the plains and experience every drop of life he could squeeze out of the world. Like so many of his race, he always wondered what else was out there, beyond the flat, waving grasslands. Once he reached the age of adulthood, nothing could stop him from going out to experience the world. His tribesfolk were happy to see him go (in more ways than one), but they worried about the world, and what RoChiva might do to it. He became an itinerant wanderer, walking the length and breadth of the land, talking to all the people (and animals) he met, soaking in life in its million variations.

Personality:
A typical catfolk, RoChiva experiences emotions in an extreme way. He is friendly, loves to laugh, observant and curious, talkative, but a bit naive and trusting. He tends to put his foot in his mouth often, for he says what he thinks without filtering himself. But since he is truly a caring companion, few fault him for these lapses in etiquette.

Even so, sometimes his companions can find him a bit much to deal with. He tends to cause trouble (without meaning to, of course), and can sometimes disappear at a moment's notice, leaving his friends to hold the bag (with the cat not in it!)


http://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=36754

[Still_Pond]

Character Sheet
Name: Slagorin Brokebone
Race: Dwarf
Class: Barbarian (Invulnerable Rager & Beast Totem warrior)

Appearance: Notched ears with bones and teeth adorning them, broken teeth, crooked nose and many scars are all framed by a thick rusty beard kept in tight rough braids. His scalp is bald with a large raised tattoo of a stylized knotted dragon. His eyes are piercing green and are set like deep emeralds into the rusty fissured stone that is his face.

Background: Abandoned young, survived in the wilds on skills taught to him in his youth. His beliefs were shaped by his own observations and superstitions. He has always been unlucky, surviving mostly due to his natural toughness.

 

On the thirteenth new moon of the thirteenth season of fire, Slagorin Brokebone was born into the fires of war. The old dwarves of Drake's Peek had been at war with the fire giants for thirteen years. His mother died in child birth as the women and children retreated from their lost homes. The soot covered babe was found by an old skald, but they were captured and thrown into the deep crevasse. The skald died of disease thirteen years later, leaving Slagorin to fend for himself in the deep hot earth.

His dwarven people had long sense abandoned the mountain, and the fire-giants laid claim to it. The giants were far above the deep crevasse, and were not the greatest threat, not by a great margin. The deep lava rivers ran along the borders of the Drow, and to survive the young Slagorin was forced to cross over and raid the dark elves for food and supplies. This he did more or less successfully for thirteen years. He often failed to steal anything of value and often suffered great injuries, but he was persistent. Then the mountain awoke, the fire and smoke driving him to the surface. The fate of the Drow remains a mystery.

The young dwarf hid in the cooling lava flows, avoiding the giants who were likewise displaced. The giants were few, and many months would pass without seeing another soul. He would sing the old songs quietly after eating and they revealed to him hidden meaning. He observed nature and found he understood the omens and portents rooted in the songs of old. A crack in the basalt that ran east to west had a small alder sapling growing toward the sun - that suggested rain; a blackbird quietly perched on a white stone could mean only one thing - death was near. Singing an old war ballad, he traced the scarification tattoo on his scalp, a great wyrm, and at once understood its power. The old skald was of the old blood and had given him the ancient totem before Slagorin was old enough to even recognize the gift.

Twenty six seasons passed as he fought for survival along the border of the great mountain forest and the hot lava flows that burned along their edges. Forest elves dwelled there, and although they were not as cunning or fierce as their dark skinned brethren, Slagorin hated them all the same. They attacked him on sight, preventing his access to the forest. He learned to ambush their scouts, hit them hard and quick as elves were a fragile race. He still took a fair share of Elvin arrows in his back as he would run back to the shelter of the hot rocks.

Then, on the clear night of a new moon he saw a great white stag cross over the smooth black stone of the cooled lava flow. The majestic animal's white fur seemed to glow despite only being lit by starlight. The stag stopped and stared at the dwarf, who had thought he was well hidden. Then the stag turned away slowly and walked away from the forest, across the desolate lava flows. Slagorin followed the beast, but couldn't keep up with it. He lost sight of it over a ridge just as the sun rose to a blood red sky. This was a very potent portent. It was time to leave. It was time to once again leave his home.

Personality: The foundations of dwarven culture was embedded in him while he was very very young. Songs and lullabies were, in fact, oral histories of his people - a truth that shaped who he would become. Dwarves have a natural propensity toward things like honor, family, stubbornness and a lust for gold and gems. Despite being alone for most of his life, he possess many core values of his people. His family was the plants and animals, the stones and rain, and the wind and fires. He puts great weight into omens and portents, many of which are self-taught. He tends to make poor choices in life, and often fails regardless. Bad luck follows him like smoke on a fire. And yet, he continues, proof to him that the portents are real, for without them he'd surely be dead by now.

He has had limited exposure to other races. He hates elves with a passion, as well as fire-giants. He mistrusts all giants and tall folk as well. The elves would use magic against him, a mysterious power that he both mistrusted and respected. His old blood would flow cold in his veins when he was the target of magic, and he feared it when it was used openly. Magic bound to things, such as a magic sword or arrow, he found less mysterious. He understood well crafted objects, found them comforting even. Magic woven into such objects seemed more natural to him, though he still mistrusted it.

[Felyx Zephyr]

Name: Marulo Neidhart
Race: Dwarf
Class: Fighter 3
Appearance: Very well kept for a dwarf. He holds pride in his appearance. His beard is well groomed and decorated with bands of copper and silver. He wears full plate that has the sigil of his old home inlaid with gold. His shield, given to him by his father, who received it from his father, and continuing in their line since the great hall in the Red mountain of the west was first established. It is the most important item in his possession. His hammer is his second most, masterfully crafted for him on his 20th birthday.

His brown eyes are filled with anger and righteous fury. He walks with a very confident stride.

Background: From the Red mountain of the west, Marulo was the next in line to inherit his family's throne. However, On what seemed like a normal night, a massive army of orcs, led by Gra'thul, a powerful orcish villain. They attacked deep in the night. Marulo charged to the front line, but his misfortune led him to fall. He was carried off by a knight who saw him fall. he awoke days later, but the war was over. They lost. He has sworn that he will gather an army and retake his home. He must.

Personality: Stubborn and filled with anger and a need for vengeance. Most of all, he feels a need to make each and every orc pay for its race's crimes. He still wakes up from dreams of the battle, of hearing gra'thul's voice booming over his army as his father charged against the enemies. He loved his father and grandfather very dearly. He bears their shield to honor them.

While his ultimate goal is vengence, he is not so foolhardy as to charge in in his current state. To fight an army, especially one in such a superior fortress, he will need to gather much favor. He will need people to stand with him. And most of all, he will need to become a man worthy of carrying the shield of his fathers.

Image

 

Image source can be found on ZiroFalcao's deviant art

[Moridain]

Baron Oliver Haversham
Race:Human
Class: Summoner 3 (standard)

Sheet: http://rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=36787
Eidolon: http://rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=36820

Appearance:
WIP

Background:
WIP

Personality:
WIP

[doggius]

Name: Wilhem
Race: Human
Class: Paladin

 

Appearance:
Wilhem unintentionally demands attention when he enters a room, his lithe frame, handsome features and his confident demeanor seem to brighten a room when he enters. Standing at 6' tall, his shoulder length blonde hair flows easily in the breeze and at times, he ties the hair back with a leather thong. At his hip is a well-crafted long sword, sheathed in a leather scabbard that has been died a dark blue with thin silver knot work images painted on the scabbard. The hilt of the sword is wrapped with thin strips of died leather. On his back, resting on his left shoulder is a thick wooden heater shield that is painted a matching dark blue with runes painted on it, in thin lines. It is situated so that with a shrug of his shoulder, he’d be able to slide the shield into place.
A thick, well-made deep green cloak cascades down his broad shoulders and it billows behind him when he walks with his confident gait. Looking under the cloak reveals an elegant dark grey tunic that covers a mastered crafted chain shirt. A black leather belt ties it all together, holding up his sword.

Background:
Orphaned at a young age, Wilhem had lived off the streets and his wits, with a little help from his friends. Sometimes, especially for Wilhem, the more generous would give Wilhem and his friends a loaf of bread or a tavern keeper would feed them something. Though, usually, the dirty pack of children would have to work for their coin. Even at his dirtiest, Wilhem always had a glow about him, always seemed cleaner than his other friends, which is why he was always the one to create the distraction while the others stole the coin purse from their target.
Dancing a silly little dance, he had captured the attention of an elderly gentleman. As the elder watched Wilhem, he smiled and laughed at his silly dance while Falicio, one of his counterparts, slid behind the man silently. A glint of gold hangs off the elder’s belt, a golden chain seems to hang there. It is the only thing of value that they can see. Falicio, a well-practiced pickpocket went for the chain and the elderly gentleman, with surprising speed, grabbed Falicios’ hand.
Before the elder could say or do anything further one of the older kids of the pack, an unusually strong child bashed the elder in the back of his head, with a board that was laying on the ground. The board blasted into tiny shards as it exploded off the back of the elders head and both children ran. This was not how Wilhem thought the game was supposed to work and as the elderly man lay unconscious, bleeding from the back of his head, Wilhem felt bad and stayed with the elder.
After a few minutes, although to Wilhem, it felt like it was an eternity, the man woke and looked at the young child before him. ”I figured you wouldn’t run, though I didn’t expect the third child to get involved.” he said, his stern visage melts into a slight smile. ”You have a glow about you, lad.” he continued. As Wilhem assisted the elderly gentleman to his feet, he smiled at Wilhem. ”My name is Thaddius, would you like some real food and a real place to call home?” he asked, to which Wilhem readily accepted. Although his desire to eat was strong, he knew deep down that what he was doing was wrong and many times he would get the smallest portion of any gains that they had acquired.

Personality:
Wilhem is known for his compassion for people, especially children. He is confident in himself and his abilities, yet he doesn't treat others badly, nor does he act as though he's better than anyone else. He is a humble person, almost to a fault. Mistreatment of children is something that he cannot tolerate and his sense of honor leads him to do what he can to protect the children. It is something that he learned from his old caretaker Thaddius. When he followed Thaddius, he learned that Thaddius was a cleric of the Temple and he brought Wilhem in and took care of him. Although he had not shown any proficiency for magic, Wilhem took to the religious teachings well and to heart. He also had shown adept skills at handling a sword and shield.
Wilhem is slow to anger, yet he still has an impetuous streak in him that sometimes, leads him to trouble. The women adore him and with his kindness and generosity known, it endears him to everyone very well. He knows that the gods had looked out for him as almost all of the children that he had run with had either been murdered, arrested or deformed in some horrible way, which drives him to do what he can to help children.

Sheet: http://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=37042