[Characters] Characters

[CRblackfist]

This is for everyone's characters. Please copy and paste as per the application thread.

[ballon]

Race: Human
Class: Wizard (Sage - Wizards Apprentice)
Age: 28
Alignment: Lawful Good
Description/personality: Late 20's with Medium unkempt brown hair. Likes to wear a brown cloak with brown common clothes (He's not much of dresser) and is a no nonsense type of person. He's to the point with no sugar coating his words.
Personality Traits: There's nothing I like more than a good mystery.
Ideals: The goal of a life of study is the betterment of oneself
Bonds: My life's work is a series of tomes related to a specific field of lore.
Flaws: Most people scream and run when they see a demon. I stop and take notes on its anatomy.
Backstory: Croveg Ebez grew up on the in once prosperous city of Waterdeep. Life in the city proved to be difficult as it was in the midst of rebuilding and jobs and opportunities for schooling were limited. His father worked as a laborer helping to rebuild and the money he earned was put toward food and living expenses leaving little money for anything else. However, his mother, knowing the importance of an education, taught him how to read and write and schooled him as best she could. It was during his early teens, he found that he developed a love for reading and research. One fine day, as he was cleaning out the small storage shed they had he found a leather bound book with strange writing on the cover. Taking it back to his mother and showing her she immediately recognized it. It was her spell book back from a day where she practiced magic. At one time she was an aspiring student of the arts but life and a baby cut that short. Eager to learn, Croveg got his mother to teach him how to spell cast. His first spell he ever cast was Ray of Frost, much to the chagrin of his mother, for he cast it in the vicinity of the family garden and ended up freezing most of the vegetables. From that day forward he was hooked and spent countless hours practicing.

As the days went by and the city grew, some of the neighborhoods started organizing their own militias as they grew tired of the hired mercenaries and soldiers from other towns around the area. They wanted local folks that took pride in the city and would defend it at all cost. Wanting to help protect his home and city, Croveg joined up with the Tower District Militia. Being in the militia gave him the opportunity to hone his magic skills and learn a few new ones along the way. He enjoyed his time but soon yearned to do something else. As luck would have it, one night while he was making his rounds he overheard an individual taking to another fellow about wanting to hire some guards for a caravan he and his brothers were getting ready to put on the road. Seizing the opportunity he introduced himself and a few short minutes later, he had a job.

After letting his folks know what his plans were, instead of the expected lecture about not being foolish, and staying put, his parents embraced the idea and his mother surprised him with his own spell book. Taking the book, he headed down to the Tower District HQ's he turned in his resignation. That night, he stayed up writing what spells he knew from his mothers spell book into his. Waking the next morning, he packed his things, kissed his mother goodbye, shook his fathers hand and headed out the door.

Hastily moving through the city he makes his way to the Rockseekers place of business, enters the the building, Croveg Ebez at your service.
Character Sheet: Croveg Ebez

[VannyB]

Character Sheet: Drodin Lutgehr

Character Name - Drodin Lutgehr Race - Human Class - Cleric (Tempest) Alignment - Chaotic Good Deity - Kord Background - Sailor Traits: I enjoy sailing into new ports and making new friends. To me, a tavern brawl is a nice way to get to know a new city. Ideals: Freedom - the sea is freedom, the freedom to go anywhere and do anything. Bond: I've vowed to honor Kord and seek glorious battle wherever it can be found, whether that be against a worthy challenger or against those who abuse their power. Flaw: I can never turn down a challenger for a fair fight. My pride may lead to my destruction. Drodin knew there was only one good way to get to know the city you anchored in, and that was to meet the local color in their finest establishments; port taverns. Full of rowdy sailors, good stories, and of course, his next ticket to a port far away, they were the perfect place to experience the place. Drodin never spent more than a few weeks in any particular city, but Neverwinter had captivated him! The city had changed drastically, or maybe he had changed? There was no sign of his family, but the city was full of good folk with much to say, much to teach, and much to drink. Drodin was a skilled man, having a talent not only for sailing but for finding people in need of an adventurous man to do an odd job for them. Usually, Drodin would clank a few beers, and a few heads together, do some work and go back out to sea. This time, however, it was running on 2 months that he had been in town and though he loved every minute, he was running low on funds and available work. He decided to contact a dwarven merchant guild, with which he was familiar, for they had taught him all he knew of their language. The guild didn't have an available job, but they did point him in the direction of a dwarf by the name of Gundren Rockseeker who was sure to have work for him.

Backstory Drodin grew up in the bad part of Neverwinter. His family was poor and from a young age he was expected to provide some coin to support them. There's not much honest work to be done by a young boy in the slums, so it came as no surprise that he fell in with the groups of theives, enforcers, and gang members of the area. A job is a job, he thought, as long I'm putting food on the table it doesn't matter. He never shared any of this with his family, but he was sure they must have known. Rumors spread and word got around about how good he was at what he did. Eventually, he was asked to join a team of robbers and steal from the vault of a large bank. They needed a few men on standby, in case anything went wrong. Drodin didn't like the job, far too risky, but the 10% cut was too much to turn down. He could feed his family for years on that kind of coin. The job went smoothly until him and the rest of the support team were caught and framed as the actual robbers. It turned out the theives didn't need muscle, they needed scapegoats. Drodin managed to get away and find the theives. He took more than his cut, brought it back to his family, and said goodbye. He made his way to port and set off. He couldn't stay in Neverwinter. His face was sure to be posted on every street corner as a wanted murderer and robber. Luckily, it turned out that he was an excellent sailor. He learned quickly how to live on a ship and be a pirate. It wasn't too unlike his former life. The sailors were his family and the merchant ships his mark, like any other. It wasn't until they captured a particular group of slaves, with a wandering priest of Kord, that Drodin began to see the errors of his ways. While on the way to their destination, Drodin made a habit of spending his nights talking with the wisened priest. He learned of the strength of faith in the gods and the responsibility of powerful people to the weaker people of the world. The words resonated, just and true, with Drodin. He could no longer raid with the pirates. In the confusion of the next battle on a merchant ship, Drodin freed the prisoners and led a mutiny against the captain. Some of his pals had also spoken with the priest and saw his truths, joining the mutiny. The situation turned dire, however, and Drodin prayed to Kord for strength and guidance. He was blessed with newfound powers and strength that won him the battle that day. After sailing into a nearby port, Drodin set off on his own to travel the seas and explore the world, he sought to repent for his many years of atrocities. In the name of Kord, he would use his power responsibly, to bring abusers to justice and to test the mettle of honest men in fair combat.

[chri2m]

Character Overview Name: Tymau Claddana Race: Human Class: Rogue Age: 29 Alignment: Neutral Good Background: Guild Artisan, Calligrapher (formerly Criminal, Forger) Traits: • I always have a plan for what to do when things go wrong. • The first thing I do in a new place is note the locations of everything valuable - or where such things could be hidden. Ideals: • Freedom. Chains are meant to be broken, as are those who would forge them. • Redemption. There’s a spark of good in everyone. Bonds: • I’m guilty of a terrible crime. I hope I can redeem myself for it. • Those who fight beside me are those worth dying for. Flaws: • Once I pick a goal, I become obsessed with it to the detriment of everything else in my life. • I’m convinced that no one could ever fool me the way I fool others. Tymau is searching for opportunities: for wealth, for freedom, and for redemption. He wrestles with the memories of his involvement in a criminal organization of Cormyr, the Bishonje. He spent several month disappearing into the Sword Coast, far from his former colleagues. Hoping to establish a new life in Neverwinter, he found himself low on coin and struggling to find legitimate ways to generate income. After a chance meeting with one of the Rockseeker brothers, he agreed to accompany a caravan heading south to Phandalin.

Backstory Tymau had started out as a talented forger and counterfeiter. Following the mysterious death of his brother, Gavis, members of the Bishonje criminal organization approached him with job offers; supposedly easy marks for easy money. Any inclinations to accept the offers, however, faded as he remembered Gavis’s bloody fate. Shortly after these communications began, he was contacted by Orillio Kyrron, Cormyr's Chief Constable and Master of Spies. He knew of Gavis’s involvement with the Bishonje and wanted to exploit their recent interest in the younger Claddana brother. Although he had no desire for espionage and political snares - Tymau had always relished his independence - he agreed to work with the spymaster after Orillio promised to help discover the origins of Gavis’s death. At first, the arrangement had proved profitable and uncomplicated. Tymau accepted jobs from the Bishonje agents, who supplied him with details necessary to guarantee success. In return, the Bishonje receive a percentage of the redistributed profits. In the meantime, Tymau met with Orillio as opportunities presented themselves in order to pass along any scraps of information from the gang’s infrastructure he had managed to gather. He felt a special thrill when Orillio began arresting agents due to intelligence Tymau himself had provided. The operations became riskier, more violent as well as more lucrative. Months turned to years, and Tymau’s activities were no longer limited to forgery. He became involved in armed robbery, extortion, bribery, embezzlement, kidnapping and torture. To his surprise, he felt a part of himself awakening with each step deeper into the Bishonji’s wicked enterprises. He was increasing his power to produce fear in others; to make them say or do whatever he – or his associates – demanded. He’d never had that type of control as a simple thief. He had always enjoyed the challenge of a heist, matching his cunning and skills against the defensive machinations of faceless others. But the Bishonjih had allowed him to impose his will upon others as he looked them dead in the eye. It was intoxicating. Over the years, he almost become deaf to his inner whispers that it was toxic. The breaking point for Tymau occurred when his Bishonji comrades kidnapped Orillio himself to discover the identity of a rumored spy in their organization...   Tymau arrived at the abandoned waterfront storehouse to find four gang members surrounding a bound, seated figure. Orillio’s chin lay on his chest. Bruises, gashes and burns covered his face and neck. "I’m growing bored with this one-sided conversation, Master Kyrron," growled the Bishonje lead, Vadlin. His underling, a sleepy-looking elf, returned a still smoking branding iron to a table beside Orillio’s chair. She picked up a particularly nasty-looking knife, held it to Orillio’s throat, and awaited Davlin’s orders. "Name." His eyes flared more dangerously than the knife."NOW!" Still Orillio remained motionless. He motioned to the two other men and they left the room. He collected himself and continued with thinly veiled courtesy."Then we'll bring another guest in now, but I fear my hospitality has run dry. I believe her name is Molla." At the mention of his daughter’s name, Orillio involuntarily lurched. Then Tymau saw it, as did Vadlin. "That’s right, spymaster. You didn’t know I invited her to our little soirée this evening." He inspected a hand crossbow from the table. "She’s right there in the next room." He paused, loading the crossbow and allowing his words to sink in. "But forgive me, we were discussing the name of your spy." Tymau’s throat tightened; he knew what was to come next. This man, Orillio, had shown him favor, even kindness. It had been months since he’d met with his co-conspirator. And he remembered, shoved down deep in his mind, the original reason he’d become involved with these animals. He knew Orillio’s daughter was about to meet the same fare as his brother. Without further thought, Tymau moved to the elf’s blind side and drove a dagger into the back of her skull. She slumped forward and away from Orillio. "Thought so," muttered Vadlin, and he shot Orillio through his eye. "I have to admit, well-played. Never fully trusted your family, but you - you truly had me going." He shouted outside for the others. "Sadly, Molla won’t be joining us after all. "As three more agents entered the room, Vadlin grinned. A truly vulgar gesture, the smile told Tymau all he needed to know regarding the unfortunate girl’s demise. He would share her fate, as well as the fate of Orillio and of Gavis, if he did not act quickly. Noting that the only ranged weapon in the room had been spent, he grabbed a handful of ball bearings from his belt pouch and scattered them across the floor. He then sprinted down the hall and out the nearest window. Behind him, he could hear the thugs crashing to the ground as they tried to pursue. As he braced himself to land, the dilapidated dock outside the window crumbled under his weight. Unable to halt his momentum, he continued to fall, splashing into the icy waters. There was nothing left to do but let the current take him out of the city and, with a little luck, to a new life.

[labadaba]

Jeridoon Ninnel



Race: Forest Gnome

Class: Fighter

Age: 153

Alignment: Neutral Good

Backstory: Outlander - Exile - Jeridoon lived a happy and simple life in a forest village with his wife. He tended his garden, played with the village children, and drank, maybe too much, with his friends. He adored his wife Hemma. When Jeridoon was out for a hike, a war party of Orcs and Goblins put the village to flame and the inhabitants to the blade. He returned home but as he approached the outskirts of the village he witnessed his own wife being tossed into the burning wreckage of a gnomish home before it collapsed, surely ending the poor gnome's life. In dismay, he lunged towards the village, only to be stopped by the sight of his two small gnomelings being herded into a cart with a number of other gnomes. As the flames licked off the small houses of his friends and family and the donkey driven cart pulled away, Jeridoon pulled back the string on his bow and let loose an arrow with screech of sorrow and rage. The arrow harmlessly pinged off the thick plated metal armor of a particularly gruesome looking goblin, alerting the war party. The raiders gave chase. Jeridoon, only certain that he could do no more, melded back into the thick forest bound and determined to escape and find the captured gnomes.

It's been too many years since the trail has gone cold. Jeridoon has lived off of the land. He has lived off of ale, wine, and other intoxicants. And he has lived off of vengeance. His food he gets from the wilds, his booze he gets from trading furs and other items foraged from the forest with the traders of Neverwinter, and his vengeance he gets from his dreams, where he brings a terrible wrath down upon all orcs and goblins in the hopes of avenging his village and rescuing the gnomelings.

Jeridoon had been trading with Gundren Rockseeker for nigh on a decade now before the dwarf proposed the Gnome hunter help with a transport job through the overgrown paths leading to Phelander. He has been promised 10 gp or its equivalent in wine and the assurance that any orcs or goblins encountered on the way would be his to slay. Jeridoon heartily agreed.

Character Sheet: Jeridoon

[Amnesianhero]

Mordra Race: Half-Elf Class: Warlock Age: 29 Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Backstory: Mordra has spent most of her life as a secretary and assistant to a great Elven magician residing in Neverwinter. She began service to him in hopes of one day becoming his apprentice, and learning how to harness arcane powers, as had been her dream since childhood. Unfortunately, after nearly a decade of study and failed teachings from the old wizard, Mordra had failed to show any aptitude for the art. Frustrated and angry, one night she snuck into the wizards personal library seeking any powerful source of magic, anything at all that might somehow awaken the magic within her. She found an ancient tome, stashed deep inside the wizard's personal vault, and although she knew it was forbidden, the tome called to her. Reading the ancient formulas and incantations in the book, the power flowing through them called to her. She felt power surging through her body, and dared perform a spell that called to her, and doing so she unlocked a piece of an ancient and unknowable power. The tome had imparted a piece of this ancient being's power unto her, and she felt powerful. That night she escaped her old life, running as far from neverwinter as she could to escape the wizard, holding tight the ancient and grey tome she had stolen from the wizard's vault... Character Sheet: Mordra