[Characters] The Heroes

[sertaki]

Please copy your character application into this thread once you were selected.

[Kylie]

Name: Luxanna "Anna" Thornhall
Race: Aasimar, Female, 65
Class: Cleric (Sun/Glory Domains)
Role: Face, Tank, Undead Slayer
Traits: Talented, Sacred Conduit

Appearance: Luxanna Thornhall is a very tall girl who towers over most average size men (6' 4") and stands over six and a half feet tall in her chainmail. Luxanna is very unique as she is left handed a carries her buckler on her right hand side. This advantage allows her to fight most enemies sword to sword and shield to shield instead of the usual vice-versa. She carries her wooden holy symbol of Sarenrae around her neck at all times including sleeping. She always wears her skin-tight royal blue and white clerical robes over her armor. Which included a royal blue cloak that covers her golden blonde hair that seems to shine like gold coins in the sun light. A glowing halo of light peaks out from under the hood as lights up her golden hair and reveals her captivating blue eyes.

Personality: Luxanna is a kind and lonely soul, who will never pass on the opportunity of helping someone. She's always ready to lend a hand, feed the hungry, heal the injured, and protect the innocent. She's lived too long as a little human girl to see all the unkind thing that people do. Sadly, Luxanna isn't the brightest girl and this tend to have her being taken advantage of. She usually just smiles and tries to stay positive.

Fear: Failing to protect someone in need.

Background: Luxanna was born in Beldrin's Bluff over sixty-five years ago, but her mother Annabella died during an exceptionally painful childbirth. However her daughter survived, and her aasimar birth was complete. Her halo formed a couple days after her birth. Her father, Luther was a holy man who ran the church in the district. He was use to collecting charity for the city's less fortunate, and saw his daughter's birth as a blessing instead of a setback.

However when the landmass fell into the ocean the near adult age Luxanna and her father Luther happened to be handing out charity during the event. It was that day Luxanna's clerical powers unlocked. While they saved hundreds, hundreds weren't saved as they fell into the ocean. It was a devastating event for her and scars her to this day. She can't stand watching people die that she could of saved. Luxanna remembers the dust and ash that covered the land for days after the collapse.

After the disaster, Luxanna and her father rebuilt the church and continue their work. Several years past and Luxanna kept the temple up and eventually her father succumb to old age, even though his own daughter barely looks like an adult. Luxanna continued her work as a priestess, but she always felt that she could do more with her powers and feels they are being wasted sitting around at the temple. She loved helping the poor and innocent, but she longed for something more in life.

STATBLOCK Anna HP: 9/9 Senses: Initiative: +1; Perception: +5 AC (Normal, Touch, Flat): 18; 11; 17 Saves (Fort, Ref, Will): +3; +1; +5 Channel Positive Energy (Su): 9/9 (daily), Touch of Glory (Sp): 6/6 (daily) At Will: Read Magic, Stabilize, Guidance Spells Prepared Level 1: Bless, Magic Weapon, Shield of Faith (Domain) Always On: Faint Aura of Good Languages: Common, Celestial, Elven Notes: My Channel is 1d6+1.5 Damage, DC 17 Will (Half Damage), (DC = 10 + Charisma Mod 4 + Glory Domain 2 + Sacred Conduit 1

[wodine]

René Bertrand Claude de Saint-Martin
Human Arcanist

A short history:
The carriage ride was long and bumpy as the horse wove its way through the crowded streets of Beldrin’s Bluff. The horses hooves clicked on the fine cobbles beneath and all around were shops open catering to the wanton needs of nobles and aristocrats. The sky was overcast and the sea could be heard rumbling far below in the harbor as the wind throttled the waters below. The carriage continued down a large side street leading to a cul de sac road which had a single house perched at the end sticking sorely out from all the rest nearby. This house was run down and dank, with a strange herbaceous odor wafting out of it permeating the whole street. Fenced in with a wrought iron fence with a sign with a picture of a bubbling cauldron and a black cat read, “Madame Amalthea’s,” the house appeared to have jaws of its own as the gate swung wildly in the wind. The carriage stopped outside.
“René. We’re here.” The voice called out as the carriage driver opened the door.
“It’s master or sir.” A high pitched voice called from within.
“You may be a lordling, but don’t get to big for your britches boy. I’m not calling a boy who don’t stand to my knee sir.” The little lord chuckled as the brutish caregiver helped him out of the carriage by wrapping his arms around his was and lifting him out tossing him up like a sack of flower and placing him on the ground in front of the carriage.
“Do you know why I have to stay with Auntie Amalthea for the week?”
“Your parents have important business to attend to and thought it best if you spent the week with your aunt. Well go on, I can’t stay your parents will need the carriage.”
René walked towards the house with a bit a trepidation. Aunt Amalthea was weird, and she smelled even weirder. Her house was full of weird things and strange animals and it looked as though she never bathed. Not half as beautiful as his mother and her red hair and perfect skin, her sister was already graying and her skin was pallid and tight as much from forgetting to eat as spending time around all these fumes. As the five year old approached the house the door opened as if by some unseen servant. Not many memories remain except for the smell. And the dolls. Oh the wretched dolls scattered all over the house. Some with their necks twisted all the way around, others missing limbs, some dressed like school girls, other tied and bound with pins in their eyes. On one dark night René crawled out of his bed and peered down the grand stair case to see his great aunt dancing around in a circle with other men and women, naked all chanting and wearing masks. Everyone was acting so strange, they eventually began to wrestle with each other and things became boring after that, René wandered back upstairs but not before seeing a doll with a goats head where its own should have been. Porcelain dolls never looked the same to René after spending that week with his aunt.
Eight years later his parents died of a small plague sweeping one of the noble sections of the city. While they were nobles by birth, most of their assets we not liquid, and were transferred to stewardship of Almathea. René had his schooling paid for in full through the graduating age of sixteen and would complete his schooling then have the assets transferred from his great aunt’s ownership. That is, until the earthquake. Everything disappeared with her and her home. The deeds, the titles, and any wealth she or the family had had, all gone. They found her a week later, a disheveled mess of a woman wandering the streets, she said her magicks had preserved her while the house crashed into depths of the hell below. As days turned to weeks she began to babble incoherently. She would look at and talk to things that were not there. Her mind, touched by the madness, would speak of the old ones from the depths of the planes beyond the astral who call out to her, who touch her mind. As weeks turned to months her power as a witch grew stronger but she became less and less coherent until six months aft the earthquake, she went mute. The local church agreed to commit her after they found her one night wandering the streets in soiled nightgarments staring at a streetlamp unable to tell them her name or where she lived. She has remained in the care of the Sisters of Irori temple with a magic dulling collar ever since.
René Bertrand Claude de Saint-Martin sat at the table thinking about his past, as he looked out across from behind a table in the local pub. Hard to believe it’s been ten long years since all that ugliness occurred. René never stayed at any one tavern long but had found a successful niche tutoring people at various things and putting his intellect up for hire. Accounting, mathematics, language, formal schooling, or the arcane they were all profitable skills that he could sell to the highest bidder. Enough for a few months of rent at a decent tavern, food, clothes, wine, and any other needs. The only problem with this tavern was the doll the barkeeps wife left sitting on the curio near the stairs. It had sickly alabaster skin and brown eyes that pierced the vail between the body and the soul. DID IT JUST WINK? No…No.
René shook his head. He was fixating again. Focus on the task at hand. Translating this old text. It’ll be worth more than a few months’ rent if he can get it done. Looking up again from his work he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror near the door. His shirt, while ripped and positioned to hide a few stains, was pressed and neat. His tabard, though faded was in mostly pristine condition, and his hair was neatly tied back in a half knot to keep it out of his face. His hair and Van Dyke were clean although he was in need a trim. He may not be wealthy as he should, but mother taught him the value of looking the part. Am I reminiscing again? I’m never going to get this done. René orders a second bottle of reasonably priced Merlot and carries on with his translations.

Personality: René was a playful and joyous child, but as he grew older the childish laughter was muffled by tears and sarcasm. A dilettante he furiously pursues knowledge of the arts, the magical arts, and the sciences - using them not only for financial gain but also as a defense mechanism against the world. His mind, filled with knowledge both arcane and mundane, often wanders and can be difficult to wrangle. When it wanders into the distant, dark places of the tapestry René has found strong wine to be an effective countermeasure. Often believing himself to be a tragic figure, one who had the potential to be a great noble, lord of an academy, or some other lofty ideal René is filled with a haughty arrogance, a mixture of his upbringing and his wit. Not unsocialble but not altogether friendly either René has few close friends but many acquaintances, especially after a successful payday.
Fear:
René does not like dolls. Not one bit. In fact he's been known to violently smash them. A Pediophobe really. Its the eyes. And the procelain...and the everything about the creepy !@#$ing things.

 

Deep down though, past the dolls, sits another fear. One René does not like to think about, and that is quickly washed away with a bottle of port should the thought arise, but sometimes René is afraid he's going to end up like his great Aunt. Consumed by the arcane and the mystical. Living alone in a house filled with twisted familiars and wretched dolls. Lost to strange rituals and blood orgies, staring into the depths of the dark tapestry and loosing himself in its tangled web forever... That is René's deepest darkest fear, and if you'll excuse me, he needs a drink.

STATBLOCK René HP: 6/6 Senses: Initiative: +1; Perception: +1 AC (Normal, Touch, Flat): 11; 11; 10 Saves (Fort, Ref, Will): +0; +1; +3 Arcane Resevoir: 4/4 (daily) At Will: Read Magic, Detect Magic, Ray of Frost, Open/Close Spells Prepared Level 1: Mage Armor, Hold Portal, Charm Person Languages: Common, Dwarven, Elven, Draconic, Aklo, Abyssal Traits Magical Talent – Mage Hand, Tireless Logic Notes: Potent Magic – Each point from Arcane Reservoir spent increases CL by 2

[Die]

Name: Johnathon Oddmore
Class: Rogue // Investigator
Appearance: A short, wiry, dark haired fellow, skin tanned and weathered from long exposure to the elements ~ not quite the saltiness of a seadog, but more a keen outdoorsman or traveler. A crinkled web of laughter lines only adds to the effect: features pleasant but otherwise unremarkable, excepting the small smirk which often plays at the edge of plump, expressive lips.

Background: The fourth son of *very* minor nobility, Johnathon (or as he was inevitably known, 'Odds') had a happy and secure upbringing, one which could only be envied by others in much worse straits than he. The Oddmore line has been 'scandalously' involved (at least in the eyes of well propertied, old money types) in that direst social faux-pas, 'Commerce' in the last fifty years or so - and, even worse, doing quite well at it, too.

Being one of the 'spare' sons which tend to accumulate, he became, at age of majority, a factor for the family concern: organising trade deals, scouting out new opportunities and providing a trusted familial presence in accompanying captains and caravan master in their work ~ something at which the young man excelled, and all was well - until a certain incident with a cellered burgundy, two well appointed young men and one outraged Earl made his absence from city social circles... politic.

The family put his genteel disrepute to good work, as a 'black sheep' cut out and independent agent for deals and schemes which edged towards the grey side of such inconsequential things like 'trade embargoes', 'tax duty' and 'undeclared financial support in local body elections'; Johnathon enjoying several years of stretching his mind, morals and coinpurse - picking up a profitable and ever-so-interesting sideline in certain curios of uncertain origin, secondary source of income well-shielded from family eyes - at least officially.

Hence, when the news of Great Uncle Alfred came...

Relative:

Great Uncle Alfred was one of the institutions of the Oddmore empire, at least for those fortunate and trusted few in the know: wizened old man running the 'intangibles' portion of family accounts: knowledge and information at times more valuable than gold, gems and spices - at least to interested parties. Johnathon thinks his front was as a mundane factor for the family, but knows little about Alfred's role in the day to day doings of the city.

'Spymaster' would be rude, after all.

Fear: Being disowned in truth by his family.

Statblock: To come.

[chuckx777]

Character sheet has been revised.

Why Return to Absalom?

 

He is returning to Absalom, having helped his captors' family and his then-captive mother to evacuate the cataclysmic events. The reason he is returning? To find clues of where his father may have been taken long ago. As a reward for saving the family, he and his mother were freed and deeded property, should normalcy ever return to Absalom.

Traits:

 

Reactionary (+2 Initiative) and Indomitable Faith (+1 Will Save)

Esiak Telet's sheet: https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=56384

Backstory:

 

Esiak Telet was born in captivity. His father was trained in technology and shipped away in a work crew, lost to Esiak's memory.

To keep him safe among the humans, his mother, Szanna, has instructed him in their masters' language, culture, customs, etiquette. She had not forgotten her Troglodyte ancestry and, whenever she was able to lower her guard, she taught Esiak their native Draconic tongue. She once said that while their Troglodyte features were considered unfavorable among humans, that Esiak was the image of their ancestors' god and that, to his ancestors, he would be considered becoming. She refused to tell him more of their god, sharply demanding that he focus his devotion on their master's faith in Abadar, Lawful Neutral god of civilization and commerce.

Esiak's mother's efforts were rewarded. He became entrusted, even beloved by captors' family. As he grew to his full five-foot stature and strength, he was chosen as trusted guard of the children and trained in weaponry and the art of defense.

At the age of 18,after successfully leading the family to safety when their home was lost in Absalom's cataclysmic events, he was offered his freedom to seek his fortune in the world and, if he chose and dared, beyond. Esiak initially refused, vowing never to leave his mother and always hoping to be reunited with the father he never knew. But his mother said it was her life's ambition that her son be free and, reluctantly and with an unexpected sense of emotion he, as a Troglodyte, could not fully understand, he left his mother with the evacuating family.

The family rewarded him with his weapons, paperwork certifying his free status, clothing, money, provisions and their tearful goodbyes. They also deeded to him a large parcel of land near Absalom, should it ever be safe for him to settle there to raising a family of his own.

They also freed his mother who chose to stay in safety, evacuated with the family and caring for them as she had in servitude.

Esiak Telet emerged for the first time, free and alone, to find his place in a strange and frightening world, returning to the scene of the cataclysmic events.

Note: While Troglodytes are known for a 'stench' weapon, Esiak and his kind in captivity were destenched and declawed.

[PirateDevon]

Appearance:
Tall and broad shouldered Wulfric is dark haired, dark eyed and carries a strong physical presence. His celestial nature grants him strong features and an appealing look that somewhat offsets his often intense and aggressive nature. More agile than some of his kinsmen, Wulfric favors light armor, heavy shields and the blunt terbutje as his weapon of choice.


Background:
Son of Seela the Swift and Roark the Wanderer. Grandson to Gregor the Alchemist. Touched by the immortal. Warrior and son.

Gregor was the black sheep. An herbalist and scholar. He left the the nomad life and turned to the city. Seela was his only daughter and she loved her father so. Despite the city and its noise she came to visit often and when she had her son, she brought him along. In truth it was not just for family but to know more about the oddness of Wulfric's complexion. The strange hardiness of the babe. He seemed unaffected by cold and was strong.

Gregor took to the babe and when the family came he doted on his grandson and explored the mysteries of his nature. Eventually the truth came to the alchemist; Roark was angel touched and so too was his son. The cycles passed and every few months a growing Wulfirc came to his grandfather, to talk of life, to share in family and to know a grandfather's love. Wulfric grew a warrior and loved his family above all else.

Then came the quake. Away from the city Wulfric's love was no defense against the terrors brought upon his grandfather in the aftermath. Word came of death and violence dealt against a man who stayed behind to aid those who had been hurt and Seela forbade the boy from returning to the city. Wulfric turned to the hunt and the fight. Over time he went after Roark to find his wandering father and display for him the man Wulfric had become, a test of adulthood. A rite to be an adult.

Such a task is complete and Wulfric is now a man. Such a task is complete and Wulfric can do as he wish.

Ten long years have passed but Wulfric's passion remains undeterred. Now a man the barbarian returns to the city to learn what great tragedies befell his grandfather and, if needed, make things right.

Personality:
Born to a tribe of nomads save for his now passed grandfather, Wulfric tends to trust slowly and be suspicious. While no mere brute the barbarian is prone to approve of deeds over words and bond more quickly to those who are physically competent. A childhood brush with a landslide makes the large man more reserved in certain situations involving confined spaces that seem less that stable. He has learned to channel his rage productively as have many of his people and so may surprise some by his more considered approach when not locked in combat. Despite his hard exterior Wulfric has been raised to do good by people and so is always willing to help. For those who earn his trust he would willingly sacrifice himself for their cause. Wulfirc is wary, confident, and brave.

 

STATBLOCK Wulfric HP: 16/16 Senses: Initiative: +2; Perception: +4 (Darvision) AC (Normal, Touch, Flat): 16; 12; 14 Saves (Fort, Ref, Will): +5; +3; +0 Rage: 6/6 (daily) Languages: Common, Celestial, Draconic Traits Deft Dodger, Suspicious Notes:

[OneDarkness]

Name: Lixir Tomes
Race: Human, Male, 24
Class: Unchained Rogue (might head towards arcane trickster)
Role: Rougish
Traits:Seeker, Cosmopolitan

Appearance
Thick black hair is kept short in a stylish fashion that leaves it a bit longer on the top, flows down onto the face along a defined jaw line with a scruffy beard with a couple days of growth. Evenly spaced green eyes sit on either side of romanesque nose and always seem to be looking at something. Smaller than average at three to four inches shy of six feet with shoulders slightly on the broad side give him a bit of stocky look but he lacks the defined muscles of somebody who toils hard day in an day out. His main torso makes up much of his height with his limbs being a bit shorter as a result while not so noticeable as to stand out, otherwise lacks other interesting characteristics.

His fashion tastes tend towards the mundane and can easily be mistaken for one of the many apprentices or journeymen that are scurrying about the city with simple but durable trousers, an off white long sleeve shirt with the sleeves frequently rolled up and topped with thick brown leather vest and a couple assorted extra buckle bands for decoration. He carries common place daggers upon his belt, and when outs the city or feeling particularly paranoid adds a solid mace or two to his side and a light crossbow that he enjoys fussing over.

Personality
Everything has a story and the more unique and awe inspiring it is the more Lixir is interested in hearing about it, even more interesting would be a unique piece whose story he hasn't figured out yet as he will consider it a puzzle worth solving and will freely devote his time to doing so. He is bold and rash trusting more often than not that his quick wits will get him out of whatever he has gotten himself into and if they don't he trusts his quick feet to take over which to date have kept him from death on a few occasions. A loyal friend he is the first to offer a hand when it is needed but admittedly has trouble at times asking for help in return if it could help as he doesn't want to admit that he wasn't up to the task at hand. As much as he loves watching the ladies he has a tendency to not understand them and can quickly get himself into trouble, so probably not sutprising that he is currently unattached.

Background
Part owner of a store simply called Tomes with his older brother Binder, they both cursed their father for his eccentric naming conventions and wondered how their mother had gone along with it, Lixir had what at best could be termed an interesting youth. His Father, Hirim Tomes, had founded the store on the premise that adventurers and common people alike frequently came upon items of interest with no real buyer or seller in mind that might prove most interesting to a clientele that have the money to buy something unique just to be the only ones to have it. So if an adventurer came across some odd item or a merchant bought an estate lot and found some unique pieces that had no real market they could bring it by Tomes where he would buy it for a fair price, fix it up and learn it's story and then sell it to some minor noble who wanted a conversation piece when he was giving the tour of his diggs. The earthquake had struck when they had been closing up shop in the bluffs and the shop despite its sturdy construction caved in upon itself trapping their father within the rubble, they had furiously moved stone and wood to get to him with the help of some neighbors and were lucky enough to find him alive when they pulled him free. Many of the bones in his body had been broken but with the help of some healing magic they had been set and he was mending well though it was weeks before he felt strong enough to attempt moving about again, but from his bed he helped organize and arrange the construction of the new shop upon more stable ground in hopes he would be back to his old self in no time. It was not to be though an infection running rampant within the many breaks escaped noticed and sapped at his strength before he succumbed months after the incident, passing feverishly into whatever was waiting for him, with the ownership of the shop passing evenly between Binder and Lixir but administered by their mother, Lily.

Binder as he grew older was quite the smooth talker and it wasn't long before he took over the day to day operations of the new store, wheeling and dealing with customers of all walks of life with a fine eye for what was worth investing their much more meager amount of coins, it was said that he had picked up his father's knack for handling people and the family's fortunes were once again on the up. Lixir on the other hand took a lot longer to recover from the death of his father, and lacked the social graces of his older brother, so found himself spending more and more time in the dusty books doing research or lovingly refinishing their latest acquisition in the back workshop being more wrapped up in the pieces than the people.

Fears
More than a couple, centipedes, millipedes, basically anything with more than 8 legs just feels creepy and more than likely he will avoid like the plague unless absolutely forced to deal with them. Swarm of anything, but that is just common sense, and while not overly concerned about small spaces he is afraid of going into sketchy small spaces that he might get trapped in like his father.