[Characters] Strangers from Another World

[kaiser6012]

Post your character sheets here, as well as your application details and any other descriptive details you see fit. Anything you feel should be kept private can either be PMed or secreted to me - I have no doubt that there are some things that your respective characters will want to keep private.
Details, now: As I stated earlier, you may choose between either 32 point buy system or standard 4d6 drop lowest. Note that this is an either/or scenario - if you roll poorly, you may not choose to take the point-buy.

N.B At this point, only give your character what they would be likely to take with them on a short hike in the woods - other equipment will come later, I promise.

[Fragmaster01]

Have a Cajun sheet, now with 100% less gumbo.

Character Name: "Yep, that's me. Not who you were expecting?"
Rupert "Cajun" Verdina
Age: "You people have the worst ideas about booze. What's so bad about me having some fun?"
16
Class: "Well, if we're going to be dealing with miscreants, best to have one on our side, right?"
Rogue
Race: "Arf."
Gnoll(chopped down to be level 1 appropriate)
Alignment: "Don't worry, the window's open. That's as good of an invitation as putting out a doormat!"
Chaotic Neutral
Appearance: "I promise, I look better in person."
As an earthling, Cajun stands about 5'4", with slightly wavy brown hair, and a bit of fuzz on his chin that he declares to be some sort of "beard", despite all evidence to the contrary. His hair is cropped slightly below his eyebrows, generally lopped off whenever they start to obscure his eyes(brown). He's slightly lanky, and seems incapable of actually putting on any weight, much to the chagrin of his mother. He's a little bit nearsighted, but refuses to wear glasses. There's a large scar on his stomach from when some snot-nosed kid pushed him into a brick ledge, tearing it open and causing no end of grief and hospital stay from the parental units. He dresses casually, preferring a grey long-sleeved jacket, faded jeans, and a t-shirt with some pithy saying on it.

"Oh, don't get so hung up on the look. I won't eat you unless you give me a reason." *toothy grin*
The doggy Cajun shares many traits of his appearance. The hair is a bit more tan and grey, but keeps the same wavy consistency. It is a bit longer, to which he's dealt with it by tying it back in a short ponytail. He's a few inches taller(which he's very proud of), but is still very short for a gnoll(5'7"). Other gnolls will mock him for this, and amusement will be had by all but him. His normally brown eyes now have a nice yellow gleam to it, and he has a bad tendency to give very toothy grins when excited. The jacket is gone, but is replaced by a grey and brown traveling cloak, which he's fond of leaving the hood up on, even indoors.

Personality: "Oh, cmon, that's not how it really happened. Here, pull up a chair..."
A bit of a go-getter, Cajun has a bad habit of thinking too highly of himself. Were he allowed to tell the story, you'd hear tales of adventure and action galore. Sadly, despite his attitude, he's only slightly above average physically, and his grades aren't anything to write home about. He'd very much want some way to show off his "talents" and have something more exciting than counting the minutes in English, but such things just don't seem to come around very often...

"You'd be amazed what people leave lying around! Take this sword, for instance, fell off the back of a cart while the merchant was leaving town."
As a mutt, he takes far too much enjoyment out of his new circumstances. He's prone to an attitude that many would call irresponsible, rationalizing away the consequences of his actions by thinking that if others didn't want to get stolen from/stabbed in the back, they would have done better to stop him. Not that he can't be prompted to work for the greater good, there just better be some fun in it.

Character Links: Cajun was delightfully "volunteered" to be a Student Helper for the local middle school some months ago, a task he considers to be punishment for schoolyard antics. Whether or not this is true is up for debate, and probably has little to do with the imagined scenario in his head. He's currently on his second student, one Colin Davidson. The kid is sweet, but is slightly pear-shaped in the head, and Cajun is slightly glad he only has to deal with him once a week. This is the part where his mother would chide him heavily about such an attitude, if he ever spoke of such things around her(he knows better than that). The emails in question serve as part of a "forced" correspondence, where the Student Helper and his charge are supposed to remain in contact and become best of friends, or something like that. Cajun isn't entirely sure why such things are mandated, though he at least keeps up the minimal amount of discussion required, in order to keep the counselors off his case as much as possible.

Random Trivia: Rupert isn't actually Cajun, he just thinks it's a neat word for a nickname. He's actually more British and Italian.
He is easily squicked out by slimy things. Growing fur is unlikely to improve this reaction.
He'd very much love to learn magic, as it's "cool" and "interesting". Unfortunately, his brain is a little lacking for the wizardly arts. Something about an attention sp- ooh, shiny!
His favorite food is spaghetti, with excessive amounts of meatballs.
Rupert loves high places, and is amused by people being scared of them.

RP Sample:

 

This meeting sure got worse really quickly... "Please tell me you aren't serious."

Ms. Jarvis looked up at Cajun over the rim of her profoundly ugly bifocals, giving an expression that spoke volumes of Stop trying to wiggle out of this. "Of course I am, Mr. Verdina. Student Helpers are an important part of the transition process, and your teachers were nice enough to refer you for the position."

He slouched back into the chair, attempting to look anywhere in the office but his captor. "You've got to be kidding. Why me, of all people?" From appearances, he had a point. He looked the part of the scrawny, unaffected teenager, complete with a shirt that proudly declared " ^ I'M WITH AWESOME". Not exactly nursing home material.

"You are an outgoing individual who is good with people. Besides, after last month's 'trespassing' incident, the other counselors and I agree you need something better to focus your energy on."

"Oh please, it was only a few hours after school closed." Jeez, they're bringing that up again?

"Most people would wait until the morning to recover their school bag, and there's no excuse for sneaking onto school property like that. Now then..." The counselor seemed ready to brush the topic aside, but Cajun wasn't about to let her have the final word. Easily wounded pride, she reminded herself.

"By the time I'd get there, the bag would be gone. You know I ride the bus." Cajun scooted forward in the chair, ready to argue this until the cows came home, or at least until they got made into tasty burgers.

Ms. Jarvis wasn't about to have it. "That's beside the point, Rupert. You'll be here in this office, 3:15 Friday, no buts. I hope I don't need to remind you that any poor behavior will reflect badly on the school." A fancy way of saying Detention is still on the table, Rupert growled internally. The counselor slid the requisite paperwork towards Cajun, a silent way of telling him to get back to class. She'd practiced this over the last 10 years, and performed the maneuver with minimal showing of the implied Now stop wasting my time. Not that Cajun couldn't tell, every student could, but there was no evidence to call her on the fact. He proceeded to take her up on her offer, making sure to save the muttered curses until he was properly out of earshot. Clearly he wasn't entirely aware of how well the walls echoed in these offices, as she heard quite a few words that were entirely inappropriate for the setting, yet seemed to get thrown around quite a lot nowadays. 3 hours until quitting time, she thought, happily envisioning the bottle of scotch that awaited her, in a house where no snot-nosed kids existed to annoy her.

[Jondera]

Character Name: Akilah Rahal
Age: 23
Class: I'd like to go Psion, using the updated psionics rules from Dreamscarred Press' "Psionics Unleashed" book (Pathfinder-friendly update to 3.5 psionics). The mechanics in the book are all OGL, so I can reproduce them if/as necessary.
Race: Human
Alignment: Neutral Good

Background: Akilah was born in 1987 in Kuwait, but has few memories of her homeland because her parents emigrated to the U.S. at the start of the first Gulf War, when she was only 3 1/2 years old. Arriving in America at a young age, Akilah was easily able to learn English, and so, despite speaking fluent Arabic and being a practicing muslim, she grew up mostly as just another kid in the town where she lived. Graduating from high school, she moved on to college, where she studied psychology, graduating with a bachelor's degree in 2009 and moving on to post-graduate studies.

Appearance: Akilah stands about 5 feet 9 inches tall, and of average build. Her skin is fairly dark, but average for a Kuwaiti, and she wears her black hair in a braid that falls midway down her back. She usually dresses in pants and button-up shirts, though she has a selection of more formal attire for the appropriate situations. She wears a pair of thin-rimmed glasses, and a small amethyst pendant carved in the shape of a flower.

 

Note that Akilah usually wears glasses and keeps her hair tied back, so this pic isn't 100% accurate.

Personality: Akilah is generally calm and quiet, preferring to observe and listen before she puts herself forward. When she does speak, she is quiet and even-toned. She does have a sense of humor, which she enjoys indulging when it's appropriate, which runs towards dry, sarcastic humor.

RP Sample/Character Links: continuing on with the going trend...

Dr. Blumfeld looked up from his computer at the soft knock on his office door. Seeing Akilah in the doorway, he said "Ah, Ms. Rahal. You needed something?"

Akilah nodded. "Yes sir, I finished transcribing your notes from this last week's sessions, and there was something that bothered me."

Blumfeld gave his young intern a slight frown. "What do you mean, 'bothered you?"

Akilah's brow furrowed slightly, as she focused on finding the right words to use. "I know I'm not supposed to talk about your patients, but there was something odd that I noticed when I was transcribing your notes from the Carroll and Davidson cases. Specifically, the dreams. The dreams that they have reported are eerily similar to a recurring dream that I have been having for some time, as well. I had dismissed them as just a dream, perhaps brought on by the increased stress from my new course load or something, but..." She pauses, and Blumfeld waves her to continue. "Well... when Mr. Carroll was leaving the office on Wednesday, I glanced at him, and I could have sworn that I'd seen him before. Not just in passing, but as though we had known each other well. But I only started interning here last week, and I'm sure I've never met the man before."

She stopped, not quite sure whether her thought was complete or not. After a few moments of silence, she finishes. "I don't know what it is, but I'd like to figure it out. With your permission, I'd like to meet with Mr. Carroll and Mr. Davidson, and try to help them figure out what the dreams mean. I think it would provide a good topic for my Master's thesis..."

Blumfeld regarded the young intern steadily for a several seconds, sizing her up. "Very well," he said. "I'll talk to them and ask them if they're willing to work with you on the subject."

Akilah smiles. "Thank you, sir. Now, I should go finish up today's paperwork... if you'll excuse me?" And with that, she slipped out of his office and returned to her own desk in the clinic's reception area to finish up her work for the day.

[Aosaw]

Name: Colin James Davidson (Sheet)

His brother tends to introduce him as "Colin", which has led to everyone he knows calling him by that name; but in reality, Colin really wishes people called him "C.J.". It's a much nicer name than "Colin", if anyone bothered to think of it.

Race: Aasimar
Class: Oracle (Curse: Mute / Mystery: Lore)
Age: 12
Alignment: Lawful Good
Appearance: Colin is a beautiful small boy, with mousy straight brown hair and wide, blue eyes. Colin quite enjoys green things.
Personality: Colin could probably be best described by the following conversation between his brother Derek and Dr. Blumfeld:

The Office "He's not sick," said Derek. "He's just young. All kids are young before they grow up, aren't they?" "Yes," said Dr. Blumfeld, "but in Colin's case the disparity is noticeably greater. In my conversations with him, I've noticed a kind of disconnect; like he's paying close attention to the fact that I am speaking, but he's not listening." "Yeah," said Derek, "and then he repeats every bloody thing you say back to you. He hears you just fine; stop making him out to be some sort of mental patient." "Strictly speaking, Mr. Davidson, he is a mental patient," said Dr. Blumfeld. Derek didn't have anything to say to that. "Don't mistake my diagnosis," said Dr. Blumfeld. "Your brother is anything but below average. In math, in reading, in science Colin excels quite beautifully. Encourage him to go in that direction. But autism--" "Don't." Derek felt his fingers clench; he picked up a pen from the doctor's desk to keep himself from forming a fist. "Don't say that." "If I could give your brother any other diagnosis, I would," said Dr. Blumfeld. "Unfortunately, that is what your brother has. I suggest you make peace with that now, or the next dozen years of Colin's life will be even harder than they ought to be." "He's just a kid," said Derek. He set the pen back on the doctor's desk. Too many impulses for violence. "Exactly," said Dr. Blumfeld. "He's just a kid. And you shouldn't love him any less."

Condition Summary:

Colin is what doctors would consider "classically autistic". He is socially apathetic, lacks some fine motor skills, and is completely and utterly brilliant. So brilliant, in fact, that even at the age of twelve he has mastered American Sign Language (ASL) to a point of fine eloquence, and now prefers its use over any spoken language. This has led most of his teachers and all of his very few friends to the mistaken belief that he is deaf, but this could not be farther from the truth; he simply refuses to communicate with his voice, and in turn he refuses to acknowledge when others use theirs.

Colin is not deaf. He does not pretend to be deaf. He is a voluntary mute, but his hearing is just fine.

RP Sample:

Colin closed his eyes. Bit by bit, the world faded away. Colin faded away. Good, he thought. Now I can be me.

Once he left the world, the rest of the journey was like a roller coaster. Colin liked roller coasters. They were fast and zoomy and made the wind blow his hair all "akimbo". Colin liked being able to use words like "akimbo". He liked it when his hair was "akimbo".

Colin wondered what he would do in his other self this time. Last time it was a daring adventure with bandits trying to steal the king's gold. He got to be frightening and powerful and quietly commanding. One of the bandits even cried for mercy, and Colin was able to grant it.

This time it was different. It was night-time. Colin didn't like the night-time. Night-time was a time of ghosts and shadows on the wall and mother and father disappearing. Night-time was his brother telling him that we need to leave now, and no time for any questions about it, but we have to go right now. Night-time was a long ride in the car. Normally Colin liked riding in the car. But not at night-time.

It wasn't that Colin was scared. Not very much frightened Colin. But if he took a standard assessment of night-time and all the things about it that he liked (which were not very many at all) and all the things about it that he didn't like (which were quite a lot indeed), then the standard assessment showed him that night-time was not very worthwhile at all, and he would much rather be in his own self during the day instead. Nothing bad ever happened during the day. One time he found a five-pound note on the sidewalk, and he took it to a shoppe to buy ice cream. Ice cream shoppes aren't open during night-time.

He looked about himself. Trees everywhere. He was in a forest. He decided that if he was in a forest, he probably had a reason, and he began looking for signs of a trail. The only trail he found was his own, however; so he followed his trail back to the road there was someone breathing on his face and it bothered him greatly. He reached out and pushed the face away, but there seemed to be nothing there, just the feeling of hot breath, and finally he leapt out of his dream and into his world-body, and he was very upset.

"I was in the middle of something very important," he signed with his hands, scowling up at his brother.

"You were asleep," signed Derek.

"Sleep is important," Colin signed. It keeps the night-time away.

"What were you dreaming about?" signed Derek.

"I dreamed I was a monster," Colin signed. He knew that it wasn't really a dream; but when he told Derek that the monster was real, that he really was traveling to that other place in his sleep, it started long conversations about what was real and what was imaginary, and Colin already knew the difference. So he told himself that it was okay to lie about dreams because it avoided complicated discussions. "I was in a forest and followed a trail back to the road, and then my stupid brother woke me up before I could do anything else."

"Sorry," signed Derek. "I thought you might want to see the meteor showers."

Colin thought about this. Meteor showers were things that didn't happen very often, and he'd never seen one personally. They were a thing that happened during night-time, but maybe it would be nice to see them anyway. "No thank you," he signed.

Derek sighed. "Fine." He kissed Colin on the forehead.

"Yuck," Colin said.

"I heard that," said Derek. Colin hadn't signed it with his hands that time.

"You're a booger," Colin signed. He stuck his tongue out.

"So're you," said Derek. He signed with his hands: "Good night."

"Good night." Colin turned over and went back to sleep.

Character Links: Colin is the younger brother of Derek Davidson, an eighteen-year-old boy who was forced to take guardianship of Colin when their parents disappeared three years ago. Derek is friends with the people in the group, but he has never experienced the dreams they describe; it is only when he receives the e-mail from one of them that he begins to take Colin's dreams seriously, and so he responds to the invitation himself, hoping to learn more by talking to others. He decides to bring Colin along, just in case - and also because the picnic will be on a Saturday, which means Colin won't have school and Derek can't leave him at the house by himself.

[Ginnungagap]

Character Name: Lucas O'Davis (and he actually is Irish, and his grandfather's name IS Davis.)/'The Morrigan'
Age: 19

Class: Swashbuckler

Race: Human

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (with Good tendencies)

Appearance: Lucas stands at 5'8" in height, slightly on the short side, and playing host to a small, thin build, and having rather pale skin. He has dark red hair, a shade of scarlet rivaled perhaps by his lifeblood, and his hair is kept at length, such that it reaches his shoulders, though it remains straight throughout its length. His eyes reflect a slightly mischievous nature, if anything, in their dark hazel green depths, although they are benign otherwise. He has a rather plain face, quite normal for one of his build, keeping somewhat angular features that accent his bony face, accented by thin lips, and attached earlobes. All of this is often suited up in a pair of loose, khaki colored slacks, belted round his waist, and a plain black shirt, long sleeved, although this is merely his day to day attire.

Personality: Lucas isn't a narcissist, though he has an affinity for the fantastic. He would entirely prefer a life of action over just wishing for one, and so far, his only route to that has been the theater, forming him into a young man whose purpose in life has been to swing round the stage, even as he wishes that "all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players;". He has a sense for the spontaneous and for suave, able to pass himself off well enough as one better than he is. Most people don't realize it, but he actually has very few friends, and although he is outgoing, he suffers from a disassociation with modern society, more fitted for something old fashioned, and romanticized. He thinks in such fashion, of things romanticized, and of life being full of adventure, though only the latter is really true.

Character Links: Lucas is one of Derek Davidson's few friends, having connected up at school, though he is a year older than Derek, although he has not noticed the dreams as well as the others, being a person to already have pretty crazy dreams of the sort. However, having received the semi-viral e-mail, he has taken it seriously now, and wonders about it. He plans quite well to show up for the picnic, if only to see who else shows up.

RP Sample:
"En garde, monsieurs." spake the voice upwind of the rapier point, which had directed itself towards a pair of guards. It was a smoothed voice, if not a little high, but obviously a male's, if only because its origin was rather clear. The man standing behind the thin blade was many things, but many things made up one thing, and this was the infamous, or perhaps even famous, Lucas O'Davis, though most here would know him as 'The Morrigan'. The flamboyant feathered hat and black mask did not make him seem any more threatening than a simple mad commoner.
This bluff, however, was far to The Morrigan's advantage, as his motions left one guard kneeling over, having received a fierce strike from the butt of his hilt, and the second one was once more faced with his blade. A sword swung towards The Morrigan's head, and he neatly ducked beneath it, following swiftly by his blade reaching upwards, to swipe across the guard's face, leaving a small scratch.
"I said 'en garde', monsieur."
Thusly, onwards, the man fought. He moved around strikes, instead of holding against them. That was his trade, was it not.

"I've a grand idea for a scene." Lucas said as he awoke the day after. What else might he have said? The dream was nothing more than the norm for him, except perhaps a tad bit more lucid and vivid than usual dreams. A good bit of an idea for an aspiring writer.

[BadBasset]

August 'Gus' Carroll's character sheet: