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Old 01-12-2018, 05:13 AM
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Dramatis Personae

Post Character Sheets here.
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See my campaigns Blod Stormur: Flying Ships, Mithril Men, Bl Stormur: Mysteries of the Lucitean Gulf and Bl Stormur: Blood and Snow in Arkadia
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Old 01-13-2018, 05:38 AM
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General InfoName: Aldo Merendian
Race: Mismatched traitHalf-Elf
Class: Cleric
Age: 35
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Description:
 
 

Personality:
 

Expectations: Intrigue, memorable characters, challenging decisions and helpful side quests.

Background
 


Last edited by Jasontheswift; 01-15-2018 at 07:27 AM.
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Old 01-13-2018, 05:46 AM
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Henri d'Hugh

"The true weakness of the illiterate is that they cannot even imagine a better life for themselves"
- Henri on illiteracy

Name: Henri d'Hugh
Age: 23
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Race: Human (Practised Hunter)
Class: Eldritch Scoundrel 6 (URogue - VMC: Magus)
Traits: Use intelligence or wisdom in place of charisma on bluff checksCunning Liar, Use Intelligence in place of Charisma for UMDPragmatic Activator, +1 to will save and +2 to saving throws vs. divination effects.Carefully Hidden, Whenever you fail an opposed Charisma-based check, you take a 2 penalty on all Charisma-based checks for the next 24 hours.Vain

 

 


Appearance:
 


Backstory:
 


 

Last edited by Zealot; 01-13-2018 at 05:42 PM.
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Old 01-13-2018, 06:44 AM
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Seven Hundred





Character Sheet
Race: Human
Class: Unchained Rogue 6
Age: 31
Traits: Reactionary & Resilient
Alignment: True Neutral
DescriptionSeven Hundred is a figure as loud in her appearance as she is quiet in her approach. Nature or the gods have blessed her with a handsome face, well-built with strong cheeks and a delicate chin. Her eyes have a piercing quality about them, a brown just bordering on ruby that can strike on her command. Her profile is completed by full lips and a button nose, and framed by a short net of jet black hair that she takes pride in keeping neat.

Seven Hundred's maturity helps her look taller than she is. She is only 5' 4" but on her wiry muscles, curvy frame and long legs she seems like she towers over those who she doesn't even look eye to eye to. She knows that she is attractive, and practises a lot of physical exercise to maintain this and wears revealing clothes that allow her to exploit it. Her favourite outfit for this is her fur-lined kimono, a black and red outfit that emphasises her perky chest and barely covers her powerful legs, but also allows all of the freedom of movement she needs to fight in her wild, almost dance-like fighting style. Secretly she enjoys the leering gaze of others on her; it allows her to feel like she's in control, and with her toned muscles and mighty limbs, she rarely isn't. Or, to use her own words...

"I can always get myself out of whatever trouble this pretty kimono gets me into."

This confidence carries its way into her manner. Her voice is a low, overbearing rumble that smashes through all opposition, while her gait is usually very slow and deliberate. No action she takes is rushed even in the most stressful of situations, and she only rarely gives the impression of being taken out of her comfort zone. Whether its an act or her unflappable nature depends on the situation; what matters is that no one can tell.
PersonalityThe strangely named Seven Hundred does not at first glance seem to be the most driven of people.

A regular at the many taverns and gambler’s dens of the world, and on occasion brothels, Seven Hundred is recklessly hedonistic, living life like a king on what appears to be a meagre wage. If she’s not working, then the only thing that motivates her is the next flagon of ale. It also must be pointed out that she has a certain “appreciation” for the figures of men and women alike, and it would be most tasteful to leave it at that. She’s hungry for excitement and adventure, living life to the fullest and having about ten quips at the ready for when she might need one. She isn’t boisterous, however, mostly being quite cool and subdued in her attitude and outlook, despite her many vices.

Of course, the reason she has so many vices is that she thinks that her life will most likely end when she’s young, with a knife in her chest. So she might as well have a good run while she's at it.

Behind the reckless, serial heartbreaking drunk, there lies a cunning, dangerous mind and a strong, independent spirit. As much as she doesn't appear to be, she is very sensible and cool under pressure. She is blessed with the gift of the gab, with her interpersonal skills and her silver tongue easily one of her greatest assets. She loves to talk, and many like to listen, save for her frankly dreadful sense of humour. She has a penchant for puns, the worse the better, and she delivers them no matter how terrible the eye-rolling. She is neither nostalgic nor optimistic, but lives firmly in the present. She has only vague notions or thoughts about old age and retirement, which both seem painfully impossible to her. She enjoys pushing himself to the limit, both mentally and physically, and it takes a lot to phase her. She knows how strong she is, and has very little of fear. If anything, she is prone to boredom and mild depression when not challenged.

There is a fear that Seven Hundred does have, though, and it leads to one of her greatest flaws. Ironically, as good as she is at diplomacy, she has trouble forming attachments with anyone for fear that they will hurt her or, worse, her inevitable death will hurt them. Even her greatest of "friends", few and far between, are always kept at an emotional distance, and the only people who can really say they know her are her enemies. To anyone else, she's an enigma, intentionally. The worst example of this is her many, many lovers, all of whom she discards to the side, believing that whatever pain they feel is not as bad as being made a target due to their association with her. She will not let anyone even know her real name, and if anyone did, then she would begin to fall apart. Everyone she has loved, who knew it, is dead now, and she would rather that her name died with them.

Seven Hundred is a team player by convenience and nothing else. No loyalty to country or cause. Her morality is highly flexible, and people who've known her for years have been shocked by her more cold, ruthless side that sees people as potential threats or playthings. And anytime that she starts to become truly happy and feels others getting close to her, she will self-sabotage her relationships, preferring to destroy them herself than let the universe do the job out of her control. Past pains of others abandoning her, and losing those she cares about, has built up many defense mechanisms, all to protect what is, in reality, a very fragile heart.

For, in the end, she know that her life will most likely end when she’s young, with a knife in her chest. So she might as well have a good run while she's at it, no matter who she hurts and how badly she wants to stop herself.
HistorySeven Hundred started her career young, back before she called it a career. Then, it was simply life.

The Dammarid Sultanate has many towns that a young girl could lose her parents in. Where a father can vanish on a skyship to nowhere, with no knowledge of their eventual fate coming home. Where a mother can wither slowly, disease rotting away both body and mind. One young girl had done what she could to put a brave face on it. She had cared for her mother long before her mother should have stopped caring for her, and where youth prevented her from getting a job, a small stature and a quick mind allowed her to turn to theft. But her mother's loving mind was taken by the disease before her body was, and the young girl was forced to watch her mother die after she had forgotten who the girl was.

And it was only a few years later that the White Jaguars found her.

The White Jaguars are figures unknown to much of the Dammarid Sultanate, only answering the Sultan and a few select figures. A spy network dedicated to maintaining the delicate balance of power in the world to the Sultanate's liking. Never doing enough to declare war, but eliminating anyone who may propose a threat to the delicately balanced neutrality or, more importantly, the precious trade routes. They are spies, they are assassins, they are saboteurs.

And they were the young girl's salvation.

Her real name was not considered important. Only her talents, and they were considerable, and being a White Jaguar allowed her to put her past behind her, like it was another life entirely. Her stealth and agility were huge boons, as was her natural charm and charisma. Quickly, these were supplemented by skills with a blade. Quickly the young girl grew into a young woman with broken locks and dead bodies conquests trailing behind her, and the agent now code-named Seven Hundred became one of the greatest of the White Jaguars.

Seven Hundred grew up surrounded by the harsh realities of the spy lifestyle. She quickly learned how to put murders behind her. Some very much justified, some morally reprehensible, all just a job. And for her, there was plenty of benefits to make it worth it. Murders brought wealth, betrayals brought alcohol, intimidations brought fine food and stolen plans brought pleasures of the night. And Seven Hundred accepted all with wide arms.
Crime
Roleplay SampleSeven Hundred awoke slowly with a throbbing headache and the foul taste one only gets with a hangover. Cold water surrounded her, and she knew exactly where she was; she had fallen asleep in Gwyneth's bathtub again. What was different from the last time was the figure of Gwyneth's father, glowering at her with dagger in hand. Instinctively, she shimmied, making sure that he didn't see her naked form.

"So, you're the man betrothed to my daughter, huh?" he snarled. Seven Hundred nodded slowly, her expression remaining calm. "You look oddly feminine for a man."

"So do you," Seven Hundred responded smugly, resting her shoulders on the lip of the tub. "I know you're upset about her sexuality, but if it's any consolation, we were going to elope so you didn't know..."

"Don't play dumb with me!" the father barked, rising from his chair. "You're just seducing my daughter just to get to me, huh?! Who do you work for?! The Thieves' Guild?! The Sacred Band?! The Sisters of Death?! Or are you one of Scappelli's girls?!"

"None, actually," Seven Hundred said. "The White Jaguars. Spare me the look of confusion, you won't know who we are."

"Doesn't really matter," he said cruelly, now stomping over to her with a smile curling his lips. "You're going to die, and whoever your masters are, they're not going to get their hands on that statue. It stays in my father's tomb, and when the blood moon rises, it will bring my dark lord Glycon into this worl-"

"Thank you, that's all I needed," Seven Hundred softly interrupted, before casually pulling her own dagger out of the bath and slicing it into the man's belly. Blood splattered across her face as it pierced his flesh. Shock ran across his face as his skin began to run white, while Seven Hundred gave a small shrug. "You dramatic types are all the same. If you're going to kill someone, don't talk, just get on with it." With that, she gave a small push on the hilt of the blade, and the man limply tumbled backwards, letting out one last gurgle. As he fell, Seven Hundred saw his daughter Gwyneth, her face a picture of a raw shock and her hands clasped to her mouth. Seven Hundred smiled sympathetically.

"I'm sorry, honey, I think the wedding's off," she said sweetly, taking a moment to wipe the blood-splatter off of her face. "And believe me, it guts me to say that."
ExpectationsRoleplaying, of course! It's fun for all of the family except for that kind of roleplay. Plus, lots of not-quite-steampunk flying ships and shouting insults and ripostes around with one another?
Of course!

Last edited by Lentil Sponge; 01-13-2018 at 11:14 AM.
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Old 01-13-2018, 08:04 AM
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Tessa Misthardt
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Name: Tessa Misthardt (WIP)
Race: Halfling
Class: Swashbuckler
Age: 24
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Description: Most people’s first impression of Tessa is simply how beautiful she is. Wavy, ruby red hair frames a pretty face with sparkling green eyes and an almost constant girlish smile. Short even by halfling standards, her slight build lends her a youthful, almost delicate air. Underneath her customary flowing shirts and trousers, however, wicked scars mar that delicate beauty and speak of someone who’s known harder times than her smile would suggest.

Personality:
Sometimes there’s no greater mask than a smile and a pretty face. Tessa tries to always show the world a bright smile, having found it her best way to stay out of trouble. That was something her brother literally beat into her: Smile. You’re pretty when you smile. Pretty girls don’t get hurt.

Behind the smile, though, is a nervous, anxious young woman. After her father’s death and her mother’s descent into alcohol and despair, she grew up in a cutthroat world of thieves and thugs. Her own brother saw her as little more than a tool for his criminal enterprise. As a result of all that, she’s very slow to trust anyone, and often suspicious of anybody who tries to show her kindness.

Background:
Tessa Misthardt was born in Eichenwald, an Eisenblud city of moderate size. The city was built around a massive ironworks that smelted ore from nearby mines to provide metal for Eisenblut’s great ships. Nearly everyone in the city worked for the factory in one way or another. Kel, Tessa’s father, was an engineer, the halfling’s small figure making him ideal to slip in and around the huge machines when they broke down. The family was never wealthy, but Kel’s skills earned enough to provide a decent living, at least in comparison to the common laborers that made up the bulk of the city’s population.

Everything changed when Kel died in a factory accident. The owner spoke at his funeral, saying the appropriate things about what a great worker he’d been, how tragic the loss was, and how his family would be looked after. There might even have been some sincerity in those words, but they were of little solace to Ella, his widow. The company did provide a stipend for the family, but it was only a fraction of what Kel’s salary had been. Before long, Ella had to take a job herself, but she didn’t have any of her late husband’s talent with machinery. Instead, she took a simple job on the factory floor. To compound the situation, all too much of the little pay she received ended up spent in the local taverns, the poor woman desperate to escape the ill-turn her life had taken.

With Ella largely checked out, much of the responsibility for Tessa, then still a child, fell upon her older brother Runn. Runn, still barely out of his own childhood, began to deeply resent Ella, seeing her as having abandoned her family. He turned toward crime, getting involved with one of the street gangs that infested the poorer areas of the city. Ella, in her more lucid moments, sometimes wondered where Runn was getting the money he brought in, but he normally managed to brush her off with vague claims about a job. Runn was clever and ruthless, and soon ended up running a small gang of his own.

As Tessa grew older, Runn began to see his little sister as an asset. As she blossomed into womanhood, the girl was not only pretty, but quick and witty. At first, her involvement in the gang’s schemes was minor: keeping lookout, distracting guards, that sort of thing. Soon, she graduated to more and more complex schemes, her good looks and charming manner getting her into all sorts of places she didn't belong. She also learned a bit of swordsmanship, for those occasions when a smile didn't quite get her out of trouble. Tessa was never comfortable with what she was doing, but Runn wasn’t interested in her opinion, and cruelly punished her when she disobeyed. Bigger and stronger than his younger sibling, he rewarded disobedience or failure with whips or hot irons to her back, careful not to damage the good looks that made him so much money. Tessa rarely made the same mistake twice.

After years of this, one day Tessa finally had enough. Using, ironically, skills she'd learned from Runn, she snuck aboard a ship headed towards the Lustian colonies. She was discovered during the voyage, but a kind, wealthy lord traveling on the ship took pity on what he thought was a poor, helpless girl and intervened on her behalf with the captain. She told him her story, but with some "editing". Afraid he'd refuse to help her if he knew she'd been a criminal, she made herself out to be a simple victim of abuse by a dangerous criminal brother. He agreed to pay for her passage if she'd work for him after they arrived. Tessa, out of options, accepted his proposal and worked as a maid at his estate. The work was simple but fulfilling, and she was happy.




Expectations: Some shipboard action sounds fun, maybe even the party ending up with it’s own ship. I’d also like opportunities for character drama and growth, maybe even a little romance. I’m up for almost anything, though.

Last edited by Fyre2387; 01-13-2018 at 06:10 PM.
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Old 01-13-2018, 08:25 AM
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Sheridan Guage:
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Name: Sheridan Guage
Race: Elf
Class: Wizard
Age: 170 years old
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Description: Sheridan is 6'1"tall and 100 lbs.lithe as all elves are but after his prison sentence he is far too skinny to gain back his full, healthy weight. Indeed, the prison sentence has left the long-lived elf a little worse for wear, his luxurious black hair is now somewhat thin and he can only grow it so long but still enough to keep it in a ponytail. He still bears the angular features and almond shaped eyes of his kin although his cheekbones are a little more pronounced now due to his cheeks becoming a little more gaunt than usual. His normally large dark pupils have grown used to seeing in the dark, dilating to nearly take up his entire eye, leaving only a sliver of white on either end. In the squalor of the Red Rook, His clothes were worn and rent, becoming little more than rags but he prefers simple loose tunics and trousers with a long coat of a more vibrant color with simple calf-high leather boots. Although certain things were taken from him, such as his chain necklace and silver frame glasses, he can't possibly do without those items once out of the Red Rook.

Personality: Sheridan is a somewhat quiet intellectual, favoring to speak when he can comment using either his sharp wit or generous intelligence to his benefit. He prefers a finer life with comforts and plenty of freedom. His life in prison might have nurtured a timidness within him, while he strove to stay out of sight and out of mind.

Background: Sheridan had been living a decent life among other elves but when the prospect of even more adventure and riches flashed across his spectacles, he couldn't resist. The young elf then signed on with an naval airship and acted as a navigator to the vessel for some time. Living a life, free of real chores afforded by his brains and with a good amount of excitement, Sheridan could have afforded not to make the mistake he did. Like all youth, despite that he really should have known better and he really did know better, in fact, he knew a lot of things, especially better. Sheridan led his captain and crew to a terrible, pirate ridden-area of the Blood Storm and everything happened just like he planned, they found a great fortune upon one of the archipeligos but then it all went south and there wasn't nothing to be done at that point to salvage anything.

Sheridan found himself among the crew of a pirate vessel, a prisoner and unwilling crew-mate thanks to his skill with maps and charts. He carried his weight under threat of violence until the pirates got caught. It was the Red Rook for Sheridan, He was seen as just more pirate scum. Despite his capacity for a long life, his sentence seemed short but in his mind, every light-less day was like an eternity as the years dragged on.

Then so suddenly, Light thrust upon him and he was sitting at a table with real food and some posh noble in a nice jacket. Instead of digging in, he would utter one statement towards the Lordling, "That's a fine coat, Sir."

Secret:
 

Expectations: I just want to Roleplay and have fun, developing my character to see where the adventure takes me.
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Last edited by Arthilian01; 01-13-2018 at 05:31 PM.
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Old 01-13-2018, 02:15 PM
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Larus
 

Larus Mouette


Race: Tengu Sex: Male Class: Monk 2 / Ranger 4Age: 26 Height: 4' 11" Weight: 115

Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Traits: Snowstride, Quain Martial Artist
Role: Range and Melee fighter
Archetypes: Monk [Master of Many Styles, WindStep Master], Ranger [Freebooter, Divines Marksman]


 


 


 



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Old 01-13-2018, 02:49 PM
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Marko Lazari
Andlucian (Human), Male, Early Twenties
Investigator 6, archetype undeterminedExperienced Sailor, Pirate and Ships Cook

Character Sheet: HERE

The Crime
Marko is fairly open about his crimes, he is a pirate but one with a bit of morals, he doesnt believe in killing unnecessarily, slavery or taking from those who can't afford it. Still while others may accept that, the law had a different view on matters and it was only a matter of time before things caught up with him.

Appearence
Marko is a young man in the prime of his life, athletic and trim, with shoulder length black curly hair that is thick and luxurious. He is not a large man being a couple inches short of six feet with a dusky olive skin tone that accents his vibrant green eyes, easily one of his most striking features. He is devoid of any other distinguishing features, and could be one of the many dock workers and sailors that frequent ports, other than he is in better shape than most and moves with a confidence that suggests he hasn't accepted his place in life just yet.

Personality
Marko has the confidence and brashness of youth, the need to prove himself against all comers and that there is nothing that he can't do. That is of course his downfall as well, being that confident means he doesn't easily withdraw from a dangerous situation and he is often the first to volunteer for something dangerous when he should be taking a few moments to think about the situation. His true love in life is the kitchen though, he has fond memories of being at his mother's apron strings learning to cook, the wonderful smells, luxurious tastes and glowing compliments. He has a healthy does of good natured sarcasm, and enjoys exchanging banter and insults in a friendly fashion, often forming nicknames for others since he isn't particularly good with names.

Background
Marko's early years had little of interest in them, at least to the ears of others, and revolved largely around his mother for his father was a long haul sailor and gone for weeks or months at a time. His mother, Alissa, was a kind woman who had partnered with a childhood friend to open a bakery with a few tables and chairs as well, for Alissa was a baker of no small skill and her friend Mara had a knack for dealing with peoples that made their partnership quite fruitful. One of the first smells he can remember is the smell of fresh bread, and it's something that brings back the fond memories of youth.

It was at her side that he learned to bake and cook, a skill that would surely be of use some day if he was to open a shop of his own. It was a simple life and one that might have been his if not for the time he spent with his father, Tamas. He was quite the character in his own right, growing up the youngest of four sons, to a poor fisherman, but he had the swagger and confidence of somebody far more influential. Tamas when he was home would spin tales of adventure and exotic ports of call, sights to be seen and oddities to be witnessed, each stranger than the next. So when Marko lay in bed at night, it was not of biscuits and breads that he dreamt but of the wild adventures his father spoke of.

It was in his tenth year that he lost his father, no real clue what happened, just the vessel he served upon never returned to port, and after some time it was assumed that they would never be coming back. It was years before Marko gave up hope of his father's return, and even now part of him always wondered what happened to dear old dad. His mother had hoped that such things would sour his taste for adventure, but if anything it fanned the flames even brighter. Marko parlayed his skill at cooking into a series of other useful skills, where his agile and creative mind excelled, and before long with help from a few of his father's friends he was ready to see the world in all its glory.

It didn't take him long to discover that his father's service were not that of a typical sailor for be found himself in the company of other adventurous souls who were part privateer part pirate depending on who you asked, and which way the winds blew. Marko was not the innocent you boy with ideals when he returned home next, he was a man finding his place in the world. He told a much more serene version of events when he was home, realizing now that his father had kept his adventures low key for a reason. His mother was not fooled though and over coffee one night surprised him by telling him she knew well enough what he was doing, and that he best be careful doing it, and always be thinking to the future.

For years now he has enjoyed the lifestyle with seemingly blessed luck, earning a bit of a reputation for himself as a steady hand to have at your side and a fiend in the kitchen. Luck though has a funny way of setting you up before bringing it all crashing down upon you, in the form of an I'll conceived raid upon what should have been a lightly crewed vessel. The resistance was neither light nor unskilled, in fact had a squad of elite guards protecting a prized possession. Marko was one of the lucky few that was captured instead of killed, and had found himself languishing in this hell hole of a prison, half expecting to be swinging from the gallows in short order. Seems luck had another idea....





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Last edited by OneDarkness; 01-18-2018 at 12:17 AM.
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