[Characters] The Mateys!

[Tripod]

Post your characters here in whatever format you deem appropriate!

[mountainbound]

Name: Al-Muqtadir, or Gemel
Race: Human
Age: 34
Campaign Trait: Ancient Explorer
Class: Soulknife

It was one of the only times in his life that the young man had let spirits pass his lips, and he found himself more inclined to speak than usual. He was on a ship – he had been on that ship for weeks, learning the ropes, as it were. Now he sat in the captain’s cramped and swaying quarters. His tan muslin robes were stained by the sea, his prayer beads clicked softly as he broke the shell of a crab. Across from him lounged the liver-spotted, one-eyed captain.

“Now Gemel,” the captain said, taking up the rum. “As captain o’ this vessel, I have the right to know something about all me crew. Most o’ their tales are not worth the hearing, but yours be different I’ll wager. Tell me now if ye will.”

The young man called Gemel sat quietly for many moments. It was his reserved, peaceful bearing that had drawn ridicule from the many raucous sailors on board, but it wasn’t long before Gemel had proved himself. One day, when his morning twirling ritual was interrupted for the sixth time, he lashed out, shattering the jaw of the obnoxious second mate without even touching him. It was then that the captain took special notice of Gemel, and the rest of the crew saw fit to leave him alone.

“My name is not truly Gemel,” the young man began. He stroked his beard, his hair and skin dark like all people from the sandy islands. “In my homeland, ‘gemel’ is the word for camel. It was a name given to me by my teacher before he died. You see, I possess a secret teaching, one that sustains me, like water sustains a camel through its long trek through the desert. My real name is Al-Muqtadir Atiyeh Alzahabi.”

Al-Muqtadir took a small swig of the rum offered by the captain and continued, “For all of my life I have been a student, learning Sacred Dance from masters who had already achieved oneness with all Being. I can still remember their serene joy – they emenated joy, even as our ashram burned. It’s true, though ours is a peaceful way, evil swarmed in from the desert one night, bent on destroying us. I remember their leader: half-man, half-beast. He burned our temple, burned all the sacred books, and slew our most reverend master before our eyes."

“I am a peaceful man, and ours is a peaceful way,” Al-Muqtadir repeated. It was a platitude of his, and he said it often. “But that night I and some of my Brothers rose up to fight the hoard, despite the hopeless ruin. The few of us who survived are now scattered, or in seclusion. You see, with his dying breath, our holy teacher instructed us to seek out a new master, one who could answer for us our one true Question.”

“Heh, heh,” laughed the captain, wrenching the bottle from Al-Muqtadir and drinking long. The liquor slipped from his hand as he settled back in his seat, eyes heavy. “How ta get revenge… on tha bastard who burned yer home… tell me, is tha yer big question?”

The young dervish smiled coldly, as cold as moonlight in the desert. “Ours is a peaceful way.”

[zevonian]

Stream of consciousness writing works best for backgrounds, doesn't it.?

 

Known as: Skyfinger
Also known as: Kid
Age, Race, Gender: 18 yar old human male

Trait: Besmara's Blessing. He has a red blotch of a birthmark on his right hand that many swear look like a skull and crossbones. Many others say it's not polite to swear. And sometimes that leads to foul mouths and fist fights.

Class: Cleric of Besmara.

Background: He was born on a ship in the middle of a warm summer night. Half on board said it was a good omen. The other half said a woman with child shouldn't be allowed on board in the first place. It was too dreary of a night and too tiring of a journey for fighting. The birth was above deck, the ship's doctor noting there was no rain, and the air might be good for the mothrt. Same doctor noted the first thing the little man did after delivery was reach upward with his little blotchy hand. The ship's captain immediately said call him Skyfingers. No one disagreed with the Captain, not even mother and father of the child.

He grew up short and thin, but with a pleasant personality to make up for it. There were always clergymen visiting him and his folks. Clerics of Gozreh, who heard of his ship and stars birthing, made up the bulk of the visitors. He lived in a town near the ocean, he liked the ocean. The priests and parents made for good tutors. Father was a sailor, who took to shorter vessel voyaging once Skyfingers was born. Mother was a scribe, she earned a few coppers a day writing for folks that didn't have the knack for such a thing.

"You'll never be much of a sailor." Words said by too many folks over the years, who dismissed him of his size. But his folks were never amongst them. Skyfingers always had his father's voice in mind when he learned that family trade. "Not always about how strong you are in tying knots and swabbing decks. Knowing how do to it right the first time is what's most important." He always wore gloves, fresh pair every season, that his father bought for him. They wouldn't rough up his hands so much, and they'd give him a better grip, so said his dad.

"You are destined. The ocean calls you." Words said by more than one priest over the years. But the followers of Gozreh would only teach him the rudiments of their ways. Healing. They let him learn how to tend to wounds and ailments. They taught him the language of the sea. But they would not let him join their brotherhood.

When he turned eighteen...he had enough of the denials. He asked for his parents blessings to see the world. They agreed. He left town, left on a vessel his dad arranged for him to be an assistant ship's doctor on. It would be Skyfingers' first voyage without his dad.

A backpack and some gear from his father. A scribe's kit from his mother. Somehwat curiously, a healer's kit and some coins from the Gozreh clergyman. The clothes on his back, an odd mix of simple robes and explorer's boots. And a wide brimmed straw hat. These were all he claimed ownership to in this world.

Except for the gloves. He always wore gloves when he worked, for that's what doctors do, said those of Gozreh. As the ship sailed, as days turned into weeks, he discovered something. Prayers for an easier time on board were granted, but only when he gave praise to not just Gozreh, but any and all deities he knew of that ever touched the oceans and seas. And only when he wore no gloves. He could illuminate his hat, and write of a night unbothered. He could purify salt water, and thus never need visit a rain barrel for sustenance.

It was the captain that made sense of it all. "Kid. I know your dad. I know of your mark. What you call a blotch...your red right hand. Yes, it's a skull and crossbones. Close enough anyway. Besmara's mark. I let you board thinking you'd keep the pirates away, as they'd respect their Queen."

Everyone on board gave Skyfingers a wide berth for the rest of the journey, once he stopped wearing gloves. First night after crow's nest man shouted Land Ho, the Kid found himself at a port. His fellow crewman insisted he go drinking with them. He hated it. The taste, the after effects. He hated it. Someone mentioned his mark. Shouted it, rather. And that got attention of some unsavory, unscrupulous folks at the nearest table...

[Cidolfas]

Name: Kaelan Crimsonblade
Race: Human
Class: Rogue (Pirate)
Campaign Trait: Buccaneer’s Blood
Description: The young pirate is a rather handsome man with long, flowing black hair tied behind his head which was kept remarkably straight and clean considering his profession. His brown eyes never seem to move quickly but he is still quite perceptive. As with all pirates he sports a couple scars, his is a think pin line running across his right cheek and the bottom of his left earlobe is missing. One of the most recognizable aspects about Kaelan is his gait, a distinctive saunter that almost seems to exude arrogance at time.

Personality: Kaelan is nothing if not risk taker. It is his opinion that his father and grandfather never gained the status of their forbearers because they were too cautious. Only through bold action would he reassert the dominance of the Cromsonblade’s. Yet the hubris which comes with a famous name often leads him to demand more respect than he has earned. He often acts as though he has already made a name, which other sea-farers don’t appreciate. Still he is rather cunning and charming, able to talk his way of the trickiest situations.

Background: Many generations ago the Crimsonblade name was not only well known, but feared and respected in the Shackles. Aaden Crimsonblade was the first to become a Free Captain and his sons and their sons followed suit. But Kaelan’s grandfather failed to achieve those heights and soon they fell on hard times.

By the time Kaelan was born his father was all that was left of the Crimsonblades. They lived in squalor for many of the lad’s formative years. But it wasn’t his father who he watched and idolized, but the true pirates heading out to see for plunder. Over time he looked at his dad with a fair amount of derision because of the older man’s status as a “bootlicker.”

It was after Kaelan had reached his thirteenth year walking the world that he heard the first tales of how glorious his family name had been. As he heard more, he begun to drift further from his father. Instead he sought out men who spent most of their time of the decks of ships. It was from them that he learned the benefits and pitfalls of a pirate’s life.

So it was that he begun living life either stowed away on a ship or drinking with the others in some seedy tavern. It was the latter where he often found the most trouble. Kaelan was a natural pirate born to traverse the vessel with ease. He could also handle a rapier with some fair bit of skill. But at the bar he was often too deep in his cups and hitting on lasses more cunning than he. It was there that he earned his scars and the latest of his many problems.

[RedMoon]

Name: Jeska Ardlend
Class: Magus
Race: Half-elf
Campaign Trait: Touched by the Sea

Description: Jeska is an athletic half-elf, slender but with well-developed if not obvious muscle. Her eyes are sharp and intelligent, though her impatience often shows through. Her hair is long and slightly curly, a dark brown in color, which she usually keeps tied back to prevent it from getting in her way. Fairly attractive, she has some of her mother's elven allure, though her father's more reckless and impatient human nature often get the better of her.

Background: Jeska had grown up loving the sea. Her father, a naval officer, had always come home with new tales of his adventures to inspire her. She had always hoped to follow in his footsteps, to live a life on the high seas, but neither of her parents wanted that life for her. Her elven mother wanted her to follow in the footsteps of her side of the family, and learn to harness her magical abilities instead. Much to Jeska's disappointment, she was eventually shipped off to learn the magical arts at an academy.

Unfortunately for those at the academy, Jeska was not the most obedient student. She was adventurous, reckless, and not a fan of all of the rules and restrictions imposed on her by her elders. She was often reprimanded for skipping lessons, sneaking off of the grounds, or getting in to fights with other students. Still determined to live the life her father told her stories about, she used every bit of time she could steal away to train in swordplay and combat, eventually becoming proficient in both the martial and arcane arts. Her teachers were not pleased with this, preferring their students to be obedient and studious, and finally Jeska had had enough of them.

After departing from the academy, she traveled on her own for a time, finding work on ships to bring her from port to port. She was glad for the experience as a sailor, but was eager to find more permanent work, and perhaps some day, a ship to call home. Her wanderings eventually brought her to Port Peril, where her adventures would really begin.

[TheChuck]

Name: Nori
Class: Druid
Race: Human
Trait: Besmara's Blessing

Description: Nori is a scrawny little fellow who always appears malnourished. Standing at his full height, which doesn't happen often, he's barely over 5 feet. Always dirty and ragged, Nori often has bits of seaweed and other detritus scattered through his hair and belongings. If one were to reach into one of his pouches one would be as likely to pull out a handful of random coins as a half eaten raw fish.

The young man's eyes perfectly match the color of the sea wherever he is. Clear blue waters turns his eyes into a light crystal blue, while muddy intercoastal waters make his eyes brown. His lanky, constantly damp and unkempt brown hair hangs in ragged sheets to his shoulders, which are narrow enough that he could hide behind a small mast if he wanted to. His equipment is not well cared for, and he finds himself having to replace items that have been worn to uselessness far more regularly than those who actually take care of their gear. The only thing he carries that he actually does care for is a personal nautical flag.

Background: Usually being the son of one of the greatest pirates to ever plunder the seas results in a place of high honor among pirates. Unfortunately for Nori his father, Captain Lefty Longarm was killed the night of his birth. Nori's mother (and her newborn babe) was taken captive by the pirate who had attacked Longarm's ship and forced to be his whore. Being raised in this environment isn't exactly healthy for the mental stability of a young child, and the only response that Nori ever discovered worked was violence. When confronted by one of the sailors he would bite and claw until they knocked him out or threw him in the hold. Only his mother could calm him when he flew into one of these feral attacks.

Then his mother died. Nori, only eight years old, was given a choice. The plank, or act sufficiently civil to work on the ship. Not interested in dying too, Nori began swabbing decks and whatever else the Captain needed doing. Memories of his mother faded, except for the whispered stories she told of Captain Lefty Longarm, his spiked chain flashing red with blood as he laid about him against his enemies.

Nori inherited his mother's belongings when she died, and it was in those that she found the folded flag. The personal flag that his father flew on his ship. For the past ten years Nori has kept that flag, carrying it with him from ship to ship, shore to shore. Also during the past ten years Nori has become a competent sailor, rarely having to be told what to do and occasionally even being given a position above the newest 'recruits.' His size and appearance are deceiving, but once a bully encounters his utter fearlessness they learn quickly that to tangle with Nori is not a great idea.

Most recently, the connection that Nori has always felt to the sea has become something more. He can make things happen. He can make a bank of fog roll up where there was none before, cause seaweed to dance at his whim, and even summon creatures for a short time. About a year ago he began discovering these abilities, and he's tried to keep them hidden, not sure what they were. The ship's wizard he was on when his talent was revealed told Nori that he is a Druid, but Nori doesn't really have any idea what that means or what it entails. Maybe someday he'll meet one of these druids and can be taught what it really means, but until then he'll continue sailing the Fever Sea and waiting for his opportunity to fly his father's flag again.