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Old May 10th, 2012, 01:58 PM
Mal Radagast's Avatar
Mal Radagast Mal Radagast is offline
Just learning to lose.
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Star-Crossed Travelers

I was going to call this one Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves but it didn't really suit...and besides, I'm not sure anyone would get the reference anymore. And it wasn't that great a joke to begin with.

Characters go here.

“The last thing he ever said to me was, 'Just always be waiting for me, and then some night you will hear me crowing.”
Old May 12th, 2012, 12:27 AM
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Fragmaster01 Fragmaster01 is offline
Great Wyrm
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Name: "I'm not here! Ignore the voice telling you things!"
Skieyl Fonn(sky-ull)
Race: *resents the term "Fuzzbutt"*
Class: "Well, this is the part where I wiggle..."
Bard(Dawnflower Dervish)/Rogue(Acrobat)(emphasis on rogue)
Age: "Just a sip, cmon. It's not that strong, you said it yourself!"
Gender: "We can head upstairs and find out together!"
Background/Personality: "What?! No! I'm allergic to personal responsibility!"
Abandoned as a pup, he was found by Muriel, who lived in the middle of nowhere...
Ahem. Skieyl is not native to Sandpoint, but he has lived there most of his life. He was found at a young age(assumed to be around 3-4) in a ransacked wagon near the town. His wagon managed to get most of the way to the town to get help when the caravan was stranded nearby, but was set upon by bandits. Skieyl made it out alive, hidden behind a sack of grain. His parents, the wagon riders, did not. Since then, he's been raised by Koya to be a fine, upstanding individual.

The success of this has been mixed. He's certainly got the idea of good and evil down, and is a semi-caring sort of fox. The methods he does this in, however, tend to vary a bit, and don't generally follow people's ideas of "appropriate". He's very much a "greater good" sort of person. Stealing from mean people, petty vengeance, and so forth. At the very least, he's good for a laugh and a silly dance, should you be a friendly sort. That crazy woman near the edge of town calls him a "nightmare", something he takes great offense at. Shenanigans are best performed in the daytime, with an audience. Duh.

Now people are talking about going off to kill goblins. It's the perfect opportunity to get Skieyl out of people's hair, and teach him the value of Teamwork and Banding Together to Hurt That Thing we Don't Like. A wonderful life lesson, to be sure. He's never actually done this killing thing before, and is slightly apprehensive about it. The reassuring "It won't hurt too much." pats on the back aren't helping. Still, Koya has faith in his odd magical talents, and he's not going to let her down. We hope.

Appearance: (He wishes he looked this groovy.)
left-aligned image
Skieyl could stand to do with a little more eating, but it's a byproduct of his overly active teenage nature to burn off all that fat. He's making do with a mop of reddish-brown hair, expanded to a coat of fur(with occasional white bits) when in his normal form. His eyes are awkwardly yellow in either form, causing newcomers to stare and Harrumph(sometimes even Tut Tut, if they're feeling mean). He's only about 5'5", but insists he'll keep growing.

In terms of clothes, he's usually seen without a shirt, preferring the company of an open coat and loose pants. When on the road adventuring, he'll swap out the coat for a sleeved traveling cloak, for better protection. Shoes are a cruel invention of people with weak feet, and he'll have none of that. Much to his sadness, he does not look good in hats.

Class Nonsense: "Thief is a demeaning word. Clearly, I am a ninja. Hooah!"
He's got some innate magical talent, though the local tinker is trying to teach him Important Things. How devices are put together and such. He's far better at taking them apart, sadly, though this might be useful if traps and such abound in his future.
Classwise, this means he's a Bard, at the moment. Slight magical ability, though nothing overly combat related(as he wasn't entirely expecting to go off killing things. People always taught him that was Mean and Cruel). He's working on learning the Rogue trade, but still trying to get it right. It'll be his main class later on, with occasional bard levelups.
He's got the Dawnflower Dervish archetype on Bard. He's not much of a singer, but he can groove and wiggle with the best of them, granting extra bonuses to himself when performing stat-boosting dances, but not to his allies(what a jerk, right?).
At the start of the game, he's been given a slashing, single edged longsword, to keep himself safe on the road. He's still getting the hang of it, tending to use it like a knife(it looks roughly the same, so why shouldn't he? It's only 2 feet longer). If worst comes to worst, he can nom people with his superteeth, though this doesn't hurt quite as much, and leaves a horrible taste in his mouth.
He mains in DEX and CHA, with lesser points in STR and CON. His worst stat is WISdom, as per most teenagers these days.

Random Trivia: He can't actually take his fox form yet. It's very sad, and he promises he's practicing. Don't mock him about it, because he'll bite you. Hard.
He doesn't really feel pain like most do, for reasons unknown. Snarky people claim he's broken in the head. It'll still slow him down, and he realizes that leaking is a bad thing, though. Gives him an above average CON score, at least.
His name is often considered a misspelling of Kyle, though it's not been proven either way.
Skieyl loves chicken. Especially the squishy sound they make when he chews on them.
He's an inch smaller in his demiform. This is partly why he prefers loose clothing, so it can fit no matter what.
EDIT: My brain is fight. Awkward MRIs don't help. Expect delays.
A satyr rises in the morning, and hangs the coffee mug on his horns, so that he won't lose it.
The coffee is done, but the mug isn't in its usual spot. Where did it go? He forgot.

Last edited by Fragmaster01; May 12th, 2012 at 04:11 PM.
Old May 13th, 2012, 01:23 AM
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Ehlana Ehlana is offline
Great Wyrm
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Name: Sayuri Kaijitsu

Race: Human

Class: Witch

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Personality: After a childhood spent mostly sick in bed or at best sitting down somewhere indoors, Sayuri is impatient to go out and accomplish things now that she's healthy. She's sick and tired of being babied and coddled and doesn't need your concern, thank you. Determined to prove herself, she can sometimes be a little too aggressive or pushy, particularly if someone is so unwise as to use the word "can't" to her. Somewhat mischievous, she's inclined to push people a little upon first meeting them in order to see what they're made of. Her bark is much worse than her bite, however.

Having been so long in the position of weakling herself, Sayuri is an ardent defender of the helpless and has nothing but contempt for those who use their strength to do harm to others. She simply can't see how anyone can be so stupid as to think that's the way to go about things. While she may consider herself more intelligent than most people (And with an 18 Int, she's got a point) she doesn't consider herself better or more important than anyone else. Therefore, she doesn't see any inherent problems with risking herself to save others. Makes perfect sense, really.

Appearance: Though Sayuri's health is now excellent, a childhood spent fighting off illness when she should have been growing has left her tiny, delicate in appearance if not in fact. With her fine, soft features and diminutive stature, she can easily be mistaken for a child at first glance...a mistake that generally infuriates her. Her hair is long and black, usually halfway falling out of a rough and ready bun someone at the back of her head and she has large, slanted dark eyes. Her skin is pale for a Tian, which doesn't make her look any healthier or older.

She is careless about her clothes, usually wearing whatever comes to hand though she is almost always seen in a set of homemade pads strapped to her shoulders. Her leopard cat familiar, Minx, likes to ride there and she's never managed to educate him about being careful with his claws. Since she doesn't much like bleeding, she rigged up the pads so he can shred them instead of her skin. Minx is the only other piece of "attire" she is usually seen in, as he generally appears draped over her shoulders like a stole, regarding everyone with the insufferable smugness of someone who knows he's got the best ride in town.
"Your issues are not your teddy bear. Stop cuddling them to your chest and throwing a fit when people try to take them away."

Last edited by Ehlana; May 18th, 2012 at 08:01 AM.
Old May 14th, 2012, 06:28 AM
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Name: Morgard "the Red"
Race: Teifling (demon-spawn variant)
Class: fighter (unarmed fighter)
Alignment: Chaotic Individual (Chaotic Good - he tries, but his instincts are very much the opposite of classic "good")
Trope: You wanted a Jager, you get a Jager. Hy just hope hy ken kiip hup wit de talking. That, of course means he needs a Nice Hat.
However, I'd like to try and play him as a Hero with an F in good. That is, he's a good person - but he's not very nice, or gentle. And he's bright red with big spiky teeth.
Trait: Caravan Guard (Shalelu - Rivalry)

Trait post: Varsia is a long way from Cheliax, something that is impressed on Morgard constantly. Not that Morgard is homesick, teiflings are the lowest of classes in the country of devils, but after all - "You don't see many teiflings outside of Cheliax."

So, Morgard travelled. Impressed by his grandmother that things were better further away, Morgard struck out on his own at a young age, picking up witha caravan that would take him far and wide across the inner sea to a place more accepting of him as a half-breed. But, as grand a concept as it was, it didn't really work out. Morgard found himself equally despised wherever he travelled - less for being a half breed, but more for being half demon. No matter where he went, his red skin and sharp fangs made him stand out like a sore thumb - amid a collection of shorter, pinker thumbs. Really, Morgard never quite understood the expression.

Interestingly, he found that the most accepting people he ever met were those members of the caravans themselves. Travellers, mercenaries, gypsies and more. Those without a true home beyond the road and the back of a wagon, it was all really quite idyllic, except when Morgard's unusal appearance got the caravan in trouble. Usually, he would simply bid his friends farewell and move on to the next city alone to join another, less suspicious caravan.

Which is why, though he started as simply a boy who would feed and brush the horses, Morgard became quite adept at defending himself. The Varsian roads were safer than those of Cheliax, but that hardly made them a place one would want to walk for a month alone. Morgard's red skin and fanged appearance helped ward off as many fights as they invited, but he persisted, always making it to the next city in more or less one piece.

The last year, he's found himself on one single caravan, owned and run by the earnest Sandru Vhiski. Morgard liked the man, he was accepting of the choices he had made to leave his family behind, but he always felt (wrongly) that the man silently resented him for being a teifling. It brewed a strange rivalry between the two of them, neither quite friends nor foes, always seeking to prove that one or the other was superior. And, while Morgard was good - Sandru was excellent, and eventually Morgard gave up trying to outsmart the man. But, the resentment lingered, and Morgard began putting his ear to the ground for more work, eventually hearing of the goblin bounty in Sandpoint, and signing off of Sandru's caravan - assuming he would never see the man again.

Thoughtful Ramble: Like any man with a tortured past, Morgard has many facets just waiting to be explored. But to him, the most important one is his hat.

You see, early on in his career, Morgard learned that the more intimidating one was, the less often one would give you trouble. And, while he was already a pretty scary looking fellow, it was more of a child-frightening scary than a respectful awe sort of scary. He needed something to truly tell people how impressive he was, even though he wasn't yet particular impressive.

Then one day, another guard on the caravan he was travelling with told him about the idea of taking trophies from impressive battles, and showed Morgard a necklace he had made from the teeth of an aurmvorax, a beast the size of a dog that outweighed most wagons, and devoured metal like it were bread. So, Morgard set out to earn himself a trophy.

It took him some time, because Morgard wasn't as good as he thought he was, and after being outsmarted, outfought, and outsped, he was starting to think he would never have himself a trophy, when he was accosted one night outside a bar, by a very drunk fellow he would later discover was the captain of a small mercenary outfit. The man had an issue with the color of Morgard's skin, and decided to start a fistfight under the assumption that the unarmed Morgard was some sort of sorceror. Of course, he wasn't - and Morgard had never really enjoyed the feel of metal on his skin, so he had long since fought unarmed. And so, he won, leaving the man in the dust.

The next day, the man tracked him down and - to Morgard's surprise, apologized. He had simply been looking to impress a woman by beating up that strange looking fellow, and the stunt nearly landed the man lynched by his men as he lost the job they had been doing in town. So, to restore his respect among his soldiers, he came to apologize.

Only now did Morgard realize how important this victory was, and how if there was a time to take a trophy, this was it. So he took the man's hat, nodded acceptance to his apology, and hasn't been seen in that town since.

Flaws: Having lived a life full of danger and derision, the teifling is more than a little sensitive to being told the color of his skin isn't what it should be. And really, any other insult, which he takes often even when none is intended. He gets angry often, and causes trouble when he does, but ultimately tries very hard not to be a bad person. If he was going to be a bad person, his grandmother would have left him in Cheliax.
Morgard isn't so good with the thinking things, and is more than happy to simply do what he's told. A good puppy.
Old May 14th, 2012, 12:39 PM
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Caput Caput is offline
Guy 5/Corpse 10/Lich 5
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Name: Reon Elmtree
Alignment: LG "Drunk and disorderly? I'm drunk and orderly, I'll have you know! Singing and disorder are two different things!"
Race: Aasimar"I'm so holy, I looked in the mirror this morning and just the sight of me cured my hangover. Genuine miracle. True story."
Class: Paladin(Oath of Loyalty, Empyreal Knight) "I only learnt how to fight. The other stuff just comes naturally."
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Campaign Trait: Family Friend (Koya)

Appearance: "Weird, eh? That's not what your mother thought!"
In many respects, Reon looks like a lightly built human of about average height. His most distinguishing features are anything but human, however.
His skin is far too white and smooth to be natural. In bright light, it shines like the moon.
He has a sharp face which could easily appear stern, but for a pair of kind eyes. They're a deep blue and look normal enough, until you see them reflect like cats' eyes. There's clearly a little Tian in his features.
Most of his teeth, (which he shows a lot), look to be made from a silvery white metal. The exceptions are two gold ones he acquired after a fight. They were once Hollywood straight, but since the truncheon they're a tiny bit off.
His hair is short, curly and black. It's perfect when he wakes in the morning and he's never needed to cut it, nor shave or clip his nails, which are of the same metallic stuff as his teeth.
His blood has the colour and odour of strong wine. He's sure it'd be delicious, but you still can't have any.
He's slowly building a collection of tattoos, all of them red. So far he has his paladin vows and oath of loyalty written in celestial (left shoulder and right wrist), a large bow of Erastil (chest), a large sun (back), a butterfly of Desna (back of neck), the symbols of the other well known good aligned deities and various meaningful constellations (all over the place).
When travelling, he usually wears a blood red duster coat over his armour. He carries a metal shield and an old katana that his mother brought back from her travels.

Personality: "Show me in the rulebook where it says 'No fun.' You can't. That's 'cause the rules were written to keep you from spoiling things."
Reon is outwardly allergic to seriousness. The only thing he likes better than seeing people enjoy themselves is joining in.
Some will tell you he's not much of a paladin, what with all the drink, gambling and keeping company with infamous miscreants. His take on it is none of that does any real harm, so he must be getting something right.
His serious side shows through when something genuinely threatens people's quality of life. He fights so others can play.
Being a paladin, Reon cannot lie. That doesn't stop him kidding, however. He's fond of making outrageous claims, usually about his own wonderfulness. If you got him to talk straight, you'd find he's actually a humble guy. He thinks he's just doing what any decent person would do, and if he wasn't around, someone else would do his job.
Reon adores women. He certainly desires them, but it's not just that. It kills him to see them suffer and when they're happy, so is he. He understands that they're no more vulnerable than men, but when they are vulnerable (say, sick, young or old) he gets very protective of them.
If he has one weakness, it's absolute loyalty. Betrayal and abandonment simply aren't in his repertoire.

Background: "Not much to tell really. But keep watching! The next part's awesome!"
A long time ago, Reon's mother used to travel on the caravans, though she never went so far as Tian Xia. Somewhere out in the world, she met his father. It's clear from Reon's features that the guy was an aasimar of tian descent, but that's all he really knows. He's never seen the man and his mother refuses to talk about him, except to say that it turns out being an aasimar is not the same as being a decent person.
His mom returned to her home town of Sandpoint to raise him, where she became good friends with Koya and Niska. Reon has known Koya and her wards since he was born and regards them as family.
Not long before she died, old Niska asked him to protect Koya if she ever went on a long journey. Reon agreed and took the responsibility extremely seriously. He travelled with a couple of caravans, got some gold together to buy equipment and learned how to fight. By the time word reached him that Niska had passed away, he judged he was ready for anything and came home.
Since then he's mostly been meeting old friends, doing odd jobs and trying out his newly mastered ability to detect evil on random drinkers in the bar.
He's probably the only warrior in the world who uses a katana and a varsian shield together. His mother bought the sword on her travels and he's practised with it since he was a kid, so it just feels more natural to him. He insists on the shield because nobody wants to die.

He views Skieyl as an endless source of entertainment but also as somebody who might at any need rescuing from some horrible fate he's brought upon himself.
He doesn't know Mihai or Sayuri particularly well, but they're exactly the kind of people he gets on well with. He's no healer, but if he was every needed for something while Sayuri was sick, he certainly did what he could.
He met Morgard on his short stint on the caravans. He respects his ability to fight, but more so that he keeps trying to be decent in spite of being taken in bad faith. Plus he talks funny, which is amusing.
Ingle Land?

Last edited by Caput; May 17th, 2012 at 07:25 AM.
Old May 16th, 2012, 04:17 PM
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The Fool The Fool is offline
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Brother Mihai
Race: Human
Class: Cleric of Pharasma
Alignment: Neutral Good

Appearance: Brother Mihai's appearance, at first blush, is a walking cliche with his black cloak, silver ankh, pale skin, red eyes, eyelids that have been tattooed black, and slicked-back white hair. Upon closer inspection, however, one realizes that, unlike most Pharasman clerics, he is not wearing a lick of makeup. An albino by birth, Mihai's complete lack of pigment is congenital, and the tattooed eyelids are a requirement for members of his Order. Also unlike other members of his order, Mihai has a tendency to be animated and convivial, with a quick laugh and a habit of talking with his hands that makes him seem to take up even more space than he otherwise would. And considering that he is over six feet tall and thickly-muscular, the amount of space he already takes up is quite a lot.

Personality: Mihai isn't exactly your typical Cleric of Pharasma. While most greycoats tend to be dour, grim, and death-obsessed, Mihai is very much the opposite, possessing a bottomless well of good cheer and joie de vivre. Rarely very serious and always looking for a good time, he generally does his best to look on the bright side of life, often saying that there's no use letting death get in the way of living. While not usually prone to worrying about anything, he does often worry about Sayuri, and he is extremely protective of his dear friend. Inwardly, Mihai is a rather lonely person, having had a cloistered, isolated upbringing, and this has lead to him being all the more deeply loyal to the only truly close friend he's ever had.

History: Brother Mihai led a cloistered life, having been left upon the step of a Pharasman Chapterhouse in Varisia and subsequently raised by monks priests. It has never been a question as to whether he would become one of Pharasma's greycoats; after all, what other vocation is there for a man who has known nothing else?

And yet, perhaps it is because he has known nothing else that has made Brother Mihai, in his adult life, a constant problem for his elders. It began early on, when his penchant for asking uncomfortable questions and taking concepts to their ultimate conclusions meant his mentors often found themselves in losing arguments with the boy. Concepts such as Fate and Fortune have an already-established dogma, and it is generally upsetting when a young man comes along and suddenly points out that, from a mortal perspective, Fate and Fortune aren't actually distinguishable. It's all the more troublesome when nobody can seem to demonstrate that he's wrong.

All of this came to something of a head when the church found themselves caring for a certain Sayuri Kaijitsu. The Elders of the Chapter quickly began to give up on the girl; her health was poor, and her life seemed doomed to be a short one. When they suggested diverting resources to other patients, reasoning that it is simply the girl's Fate to perish, a single dissenting voice cried out: that of Brother Mihai. He chastised the Elders for abdicating their duty to their patient, calling their recourse to Fate a cowardly attempt to push off their responsibilities. He lambasted them for their arrogance, that they would presume to know that mind of Pharasma from their feeble mortal perspectives, and declared that if Sayuri were to die, they would be the ones who killed her, not "Fate" or "The Divine Plan", and that Pharasma was not there to be their scapegoat for when they wanted to do what was convenient instead of what was right.

Of course, he didn't get through to them completely. The Elders are old men, set in their ways. However, they did make a fateful decision: they decided that if Mihai wished to defend Sayuri so fervently, then he could be appointed to be her sole caretaker. The intention was that Sayuri would die, and Mihai would learn a lesson about the inevitability of Fate. To say this plan backfired would be a rather gross understatement.

Since that time, Mihai has continued to be Sayuri's caregiver, even after she no longer needed one. On paper, this is so that he can be on hand in case she relapses, but the truth is that the two have become inseparable friends in the years since they met, and Mihai can scarcely imagine life without her.
Posting will be slow of late due to Law School.

Last edited by The Fool; May 17th, 2012 at 07:59 AM.
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