[Characters] Blue Team Heroes of the Vale

[Macross]

[Natshikrak]

Name: Vanrik Bikblade
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class / Party Role: Fighter, Front liner, Great Sword Wielder.

Personality:
Vanrik's trustworthy look is further emphasized by his calm demeanor. He is not blessed with a silver tongue, but his soft spoken tone helps greatly to cushion his forthright approach. Not much of a great thinker, he prefers to listen to people and carefully weighs his options and is capable of making hard decision - one based on majority's benefits. Naturally a warrior at heart, Vanrik's obsessive pursuit to refine of his blade skills is relentless. Daily physical conditioning and kata practices are common part of his routine unless he is on the road. Nothing thrills Vanrik more than adventuring and fighting evils along the way. He does not trust people easily but the fastest to gain it is to demonstrate one's worthiness with sword. He is particularly uncomfortable with people with quick and sly tongue, though he doesn't sound out his feeling, he maintains his wariness until such time they prove otherwise. At his core, Vanrik is a good person, and follows as his conscience directs, paying little regards to others' opinions. He relies strongly on his own moral compass, though it may not resonates well by society's standards.

Brief Description:
Vanrik is blessed with good looks, with symmetrically flawless features. One that stirs hearts of needy women and wins favors of men. His deep set russet eyes tell much of his strong discipline expected of a gallant warrior. Yet his messy brown, sandy hair shows his little regards for personal grooming, even though it looks good on him. : p

Brief Background:
Brought up by his weapon smith uncle in a Brindol, Vanrik desired to follow his father's footsteps to become a great swordsman, despite his uncle insistence for him to take over his business. After a dispute, the rebellious boy ran away. He was only 12. For a year, he lived a life of an urban urchin in the Dennovar until one fateful day, saving the life of a grimly injured warrior changed it all. The mercenary leader of Black Raven, after much pleadings on Vanrik's part, took him along and threw him into a regiment of rigorous training. Years later, the mercenary disbanded due to internal strife. Vanrik finally went back home to his uncle. The joyous reunion last for 2 months before his wanderlust returned, and brought him back on the road. Now the young warrior begins a new chapter in his life, to explore the realm, to pursue his path to wealth and glory, while upholding justice along the way.

 

[Darkshard]

Name: Ilnzibir Cordabolon
Race: Gnome
Gender: Male
Class / Party Role: Alchemist / Ranged Damage
Personality: Unusually serious for a gnome, Ilnzibir (or Zibir to those who can't pronounce his name) reserves his true delight for the wonder to be found in a hefty explosion, a clever feat of engineering or an equally clever feat of de-engineering. His obsessive dedication to his craft allows only for distractions that further allow him to perfect his art; and to use it. Apparently there are several lady gnomes who have made their interest plain over the years... Ilnzibir appreciates the admiration but has no interest in a female who isn't as interested as he is in explosions; that, or is willing to cook, clean and fetch for him.
Brief Description: Of about average height and weight for a gnome, and rather dashing, Ilnzibir's forest heritage is evident in the shaggy mop of hair the colour of fir trees and the slightly mottled brown-green cast to his skin. His green eyes gleam; and a pewter hoop in one ear sets off his appearance to good advantage. His outfits tend to have several pouches and pockets.
Picture: (Not very accurate, but the best I could find!)


Brief Background: Ilnzibir comes from Dauth, a sleepy hamlet (that tends to ignore the occasional explosions on the outskirts) in Eslir Vale. He produces alchemical supplies as a by-product of his alchemical experiments; his sister Dibel in the meantime is also a skilled alchemist, though her skills lend themselves to the manufacture of excellent brightly coloured dyes instead. Ilnzibir was travelling along the Dawn Way, perched on top of a wooden, mule-drawn cart carrying goods to sell at Nimon Gap, a large town on a major trade route, for coin. It was there that he heard that there might be trouble brewing...

 

[Acellus]

Name: Kasumak the Sly (Kas) Race: Half-ling Gender: Male Class / Party Role: Rogue (Filcher / Stealth Attacks) Hometown : Marthton Personality: Seems to be very happy and upbeat towards life. Once you get to know him you can see the demons crawling inside. A life full of regret keeps him from going into hiding and living his days out. He wants to make up for all the cowardice he has felt, and all the times he has relied on others to get him out of situations. He wants to be a hero, at any cost. Good at carrying a tune or a conversation, he is the type of thief who is loved by many, and only hated by those he has duped. Brief Description: Black hair cut slightly short with a fade off as it rolls down. Blue, piercing eyes, that can see into a persons soul, and that can melt most women like butter. Dresses more like royalty than a thief, but has all of his clothes fitted for maximum agility. A small burnt scar running across his face reminds him of the worst day of his life. Brief Background: Kas is not sure where he came from, he was orphaned at a very young age, learned to survive on his own. When he turned 13 he was taken into a local thieves "guild", which was more or less just a group of 5-6 young people who stole enough to survive. The Blood Brothers as they were so called. Kas quickly became one of the best. He was able to steal almost anything without ever getting caught, well almost ever. Kas fell in love with a young girl who was from a rich household. Stealing her heart proved to be the worst case scenario for Kas. They met when he was breaking into her room to take a treasure box, it was love at first sight. Kass began visiting all he could, and Mary-Anne would come out to visit Kass in the city. A few years went by and on Kas' 19th birthday, he decided he would propose to Mary-Anne. Her father objected, with the blade of his flaming sword. He forever scarred Kas' face, and heart. Kas left the city at 21, and began to journey and make a name for himself. Now Kas is known by almost every major City, and is infamous in most small country towns too. He has gambled his way into riches, and can never be found without his trusty "lucky" dice. Kas will never stop trying to become good enough to impress Mary-Anne's father, and earn her hand in marriage, while at the same time taking vengeance for the pain he has endured. His time will come, he just hopes that time is not too far away. So he joins the adventurers, and tries to prove himself. Link to character sheet: http://rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=33931

[Sassafrass]

Torman White-Eyes Name: Torman White-eyes, Gnome-friend and Accursed Race: Half-Orc Gender: Male Class / Party Role: Oracle/Healer, Diplomat, Wisdom Guy, Performer Personality: Torman is alone. Torman was born alone. Torman will die alone. It is known. It is not death that drives Torman to live, nor is it loneliness. He has both of those things, in his way, but he is not driven by them. Torman is driven instead by the thought that there are others like him. That there are others born of terrible unions. And with that knowledge, he knows he can push back the chaos that is orc-kind, and stop world-rending unions as such was the one that created him. He is cursed. He is a blemish on life itself. But live he does, and he does not do so with self-loathing. He is, and that is enough. With his life, short though it may be, he can make a difference. Torman, though cursed, may be a blessing to others. He brings them healing, wisdom, kindness, from the wilderness, whence he was born, whence he was raised, whence he learned. The nature of a human heart interests him, and though his sight is damaged, he sees a man for what he is, good or ill. While many may turn away from him, that says enough about them to him. But he will help them, if he can. It is their life to live, and they choose to take kindness where they will, or not. Torman is skilled with word, and knows many tales. They inspired him when he was but a young child, ill-made for this world, and now he seeks to inspire others with them. Poetry or tale, fable or morality play: he wants everyone, young or old, to see the beauty in all things, to see the meaning in all trials, in all deeds. Yet somehow he does not consider himself beautiful, or meaningful, not inherently. A thing must be made to have meaning, or else, a rock is a rock, and a wolf a wolf. Brief Description: Torman is more like his mother than his father. He is less than six feet, so short for an orc, and closer to five and a half feet. He is not a mass of muscle like an orc would be: his muscles exist because the road behind him has shaped in so. His hair is curled, like his mother's, and black, barely emerging from the wrappings around his head, part of the white cloth that covers his whole body. In truth, he resembles a desert vagabond, though this is merely him imitating his father figure, the gnome Jamand, a hermit who relocated from the desert to the forests of Valenwood. He dresses in white for purity, and red for strength of spirit: he wears this more as clothes, as the white wrappings help to hide not only his truly Orcish nature, but his ritual scarring, given to him by his true family, from whom he fled. Beneath this, and partially obscured, is banded armor, and a single silver necklace, which belonged to his mother, of who he knows nothing. Outside of his head, he is largely hairless, and his scars only show on his hands, which are uncovered. His shoes are simple wrappings, and he is plain. Orange-skinned and tusked, he cannot hide his Orc blood so much as he wishes. He looks almost child-like with his overbite, his face round and fat in the cheeks. A proud man may think him simple, but it is when he opens his mouth that he proves them wrong. Torman is not simple. And if not for the almost-blindness of his eyes, they would speak that for him. His eyes have eons of knowledge beneath them. If only others would see that. Brief Background: Torman is a creature of dark union, of a mother ravaged by Orcs and kept in their camp for some time. Malnourished, she died giving birth. His father was the tribe shaman, the only Orc who knew Common enough to speak to the woman, and who showed her as close to kindness as an Orc warband can show a woman. He raised the child, seen as weak by the others, and prepared to raise him as his apprentice. But the position of apprentice is not hereditary: it is ordained by the gods. In time, his father saw that the child was cursed, with no sight to see and with a heart not quite so pure as their dark god would ask of them. Fearing retribution from the others if the child came of age and destroyed them, the shaman left the child by a roadside to die, or be adopted: it was out of his hands. He was two, and did have yet a name. Fortunately for him, it was a gnome who found him. Jamand was a soothsayer, cursed with wisdom, and he saw the potential of the scarred, orange, ugly child. Taking him, he decided to raise the child as his own, and named him Torman after his father. Though the boy was fierce and almost feral, Jamand was patient and kind. He raised the boy to love stories and see the potential in all things, see their beauty, their need. Most of all, the stories of Elsir Vale interested him, making him wish he were a strong adventurer with great power and a great destiny before him; but then, he was a simple, blind Half-Orc boy. But even Orcs have their purpose in this world, but Torman was not an Orc: he was a being of his own design. If only Torman could believe it, for the gnomes nearby who sought Jamand did not think so. He was an ugly Orc, stupid and ferocious, and he would bring them unto ruin. Some twenty years later, a great host of goblins descended on the nearby gnome village of Roundrock, and they sought Jamand for wisdom. But there they accused Torman of bringing the goblin hordes there, summoning his kin to destroy them. He denied it and Jamand scolded them all, but offered his help: himself, and his son. For all to see, the two of them joined the town's alchemists and mages, and fought off the host. Everyone saw what happened. How, though the mages fled in fear, and the alchemist fell in battle, Torman did not stop fighting. He cast what spells he had learned from his father, and he pushed back the host of goblins. He did what Jamand could not, for Jamand was felled in the battle. As he died, he told his son that the world would be more beautiful: because of him. But he must make it so. Change comes when mortals bring it. The gnomes were grateful for Torman, and when Jamand passed, they gave to Torman the title of Gnome-friend, letting all Gnomes know of his bond and friendship to Gnomekind. But that kindness would not last, he knew. Soon they would fear and resent him for surviving, and insult him and speak untruths. So Torman left. He wandered. He grew. He learned. And though blind, he saw. Five years have passed since then, and in that time, his interest in the tales of Elsir Vale as a child has only grown: and it is there that he wishes to travel, where he will find wonder and truth in this wide world.

[zevonian]

 

Name: Doctor Archibald Del Rey
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class / Party Role: Bard. Archivist Bard. / Knowledge is Power!

Personality: You know the kind of guy that knows a little bit about everything, and makes no hesitation to prove it? How about the type of person you'd see in a tavern not drinking, but rather telling tales and winning bets based on trivial pursuits and historical what-have-yous? What about the fellow who can name fourty two different types of bladed weapons, but can't wield a single one worth a rookie militiaman's pay?

Archibald Del Rey is that guy. But he's fairly cheerful, and always manages an assist in pitching up folks after a barfight or goblin border clash, so we put up with him anyway.

Brief Description: The good Doctor, if we can call him that, is no bigger or taller than any other typical guy in this town. What makes him stand out is that he's rather handsome. One term bandied about him most recently is man-pretty. His hair is currently shocking red, but that's got to be from some sort of actor's makeup kit. It has to be. He's not a performer per se, he just likes looking different every week. However he makes a living, half of his earning are undoubtedly spent on clothes and what he calls his accessories. Everyone else would call it equipment, gear, or silly froo froo and hoity toity stuffs.
If he's got any weapons or armor on him, they aren't readily visible. He does have a satchel full of scrolls though.

Brief Background: No two people share the same tale, or knowledge, of the origin of Del Rey. Everyone thinks he was born in this town. A couple of folks call him his brother, many more call him cousin, but that's considered to be more of a jovial term of endearment rather than an admission of real bloodline ties.

Every tavern in the region claims that there's was the first that he started hanging around in. Never had a drop of wine, ale, or anything harder. Water, or milk, that's all he ever asked for. Anyway, he was just this kid who would come in with stories to share, and as the years went on, his number of tales multiplied by a number only he or some great wizard could likely calculate.

This current season has found Del Rey with what rangers and musicians alike call the old wanderlust. The desire to experience more of the world outside a few neighboring towns was evident in his words to all. When asked why he's going to leave, he'd always just say, "When the time is right." Those that known him, they know he's smart enough to realize exactly when that time is nigh.

**zev declares no ownership of provided image, and will delete upon request. That is, if it actually works.**

[PariahRat]

Name: Tonrye
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Class / Party Role: Druid/Barbarian, More WS rage and less spell support. Potential for a good scout or intimidater as well. Probably about even ranks in each, don't know how good that will be down the line but still fun.

Personality:

 

Tonrye is stoic, a statue. Rarely speaking more than a few words at a time or acknowledging people he deems unworthy, he would rather observe people and act than spit out meaningless phrases. Most people mistake this stoicism for a druid's natural way of being, but for Tonrye, he uses that preconception as a mask for his true issue: he never knows what to say in a situation.

Spending much of his time in the wild savannahs, part of his lack of sociability comes simply from interacting with animals or spending time alone, where talking is of little need. He tries to reintegrate into civilized society, for he believes that in order to protect the world that he loves, he must point out its beauty and showcase its terrifying power, almost as a priest for the natural world. However, his lack of ability leads him to seek others more charismatic than himself, to try to make friends that will help him. Yet, not anyone will do. Tonrye does not judge based on appearance, as he has spent time understanding all kinds of animals in the wilderness, both ugly and beautiful, both monstrous and docile. A creature's attitude towards Tonrye or towards their fellows indicates his judgement. Although he recognizes violence and death as a part of life, he does not tolerate its wonton application, and will protect those he deems in need of protection. However, his time apart has often given him a warped sense of justice, and those who do not fight for it are often not worthy of justice in his eyes.

Brief Description:

 

Tonrye is built like a rock, his muscular features almost chiseled from his consistent training. His narrow eyes are dark and glaring, almost calculating. He is known to smile, but never shows his sharp teeth, he saves them for when he growls. His shoulders are always square and his hands are almost always crossed, but quick to spring behind him and ready a weapon.

He wears little in the way of clothing in a means to keep him cool in tropical weather. His bronze skin reflects many hours in the sun. When fighting or in public, he wears a piece of armor just a touch too small for him but prefers to go shirtless. His shorts come from the skin of some big cat, as does his cloak, which dons in rare cases of inclement weather.

Tonrye always carries the branch of a small tree on his back, ripped from his favorite shady spot.

Brief Background:

 

Tonrye proudly traces his lineage to the tribes of humans that lived before and eventually settled Rhest. Stories of these resilient people who have lived as nomads in the desert before building a paradise on dwarven ruins, only to have it all come crashing down in a cascade of water. The story of the dam was particularly affective towards Tonrye's childhood psyche, as it brought him a closer understanding of the fury of nature and the ephemeral quality that mankind had when it shunned nature and spoiled it. Young Tonrye loved these stories his parents would weave out of history and imagination.

Tonrye loved to wander outside, often climbing the walls of Brindol and escaping to explore the world around him. Once, while he was away, the house his family shared with a couple other families inexplicably collapsed. As Tonrye returned, he saw the pit of rubble and began to try to dig. His attempts were feeble as he could barely lift small planks. He began inhaling dirt and dust and started coughing, soon collapsing on the ground nearby.

Several of the tenants had died, including his parents. An enraged Tonrye vowed never to be weak again, to be able to save those who might need his help. He fled the city and lived in the wilds like a beast for several years, strengthening his body by running with the animals and enduring the heat of the red hot sun. Although his time has transformed him into a capable warrior, he has lost a bit of his humanity along the way. Tonrye eventually decided his savannahs, his deserts, his tropical forests were worth sharing with the world, and he decided to travel all along trade routes where humans lived to give this message to people. His travels have taken him to Dawn Way before, and perhaps his current visit will provide serendipitous in the fight against the Red Hand.

Link to character sheet: Tonrye