[Characters] The Friendly Strangelings

[Amarga]

Characters go here,
Those folk we hold dear

Character Creation Source Books: Any official content. You can ask for some third-party stuff which I will consider. In any case I trust you to keep to the vibe and create a balanced character with proper strengths/weaknesses Starting Level: 1 Character name: Race: Any non-anthropomorphic races Class: All but the artificer Background: Any Ability Scores: Point buy. Personality: A paragraph or two to give me the basics and how your character will fit into an adventuring party.

[97mg]

A Fairy Healer Fledidi Pitchidi The outcast fairy, once adopted to maintain a hamlet's pet and livestock burial site...     Can't you like, bury these somewhere else? "Stitched up by a Goddess... So I can stitch up mortals. Start small, she said. So I did." Name: Fledidi Pitchidi Race: Fairy (happy to restrict flight if OP) Class: Cleric (Grave) Background: Adopted Personality: I'm an emotional sponge. There, I said it! So, a colorful little fey that dances in circles? Nope. Not really. Honestly, my life experience is pretty limited to things kind of... yeah, morbid, even though I don't see it that way. My surroundings, be they a natural landscape, the un-natural landscape, or just the people I'm exposed to, greatly influences the way I perceive things, and act. I sure have a lot to learn about different races and people's cultures, and a deep part of me longs for such things. You know, get out of my rut. So... I'm no idiot either. Being small and fragile makes me cautious! I'm friendly though, and will reflect back appreciation and big smiles to people that offer them. Mean people can get bent though! Mean people make me... mean. Think of me as a tiny black-backed mirror, giving back to you whatever you openly show. Truth is what I appreciate the most. Truth is always worth sharing. Oh, I can hear it, right there in your head. You're asking yourself what possible use a little fairy could be. Honestly, it's not about me, but my Goddess. If anyone can be helpful to others, it is her! Lucky for me, I can channel the Goddess... sometimes. Yup. I can heal! I can tell you more about that later. What else can I do? How does fitting into tight places sound? Scouting ahead with wings buzzing? Distract someone with my dark beauty, just long enough for you to plan your next steps? Yes, that's me! See, I'm super handy. You just need to ask nicely, and be prepared to carry any heavy gear for me... please? Physical Description: Early in life, I'd kind of had enough of bright whites and the veritable rainbow of accessories my kin used to get around in. It just felt... fake. While they were practicing dance steps on big mushrooms, or tossing sparkle-dust around, I was poking at roadkill with a stick. Death. It always made me terribly sad. It was also kind of beautiful though. This manner of thinking made me a bit of an oddity in the fairy circles, but instead of feeling bad about it, I just took it by the tail and gave it a good shake! I still remember the day I snuck into the bigfolk's village toy shop. They probably found one of their dollies missing her dress the next morning. Nobody is going to get offended by a doll's privates right? So, I had myself a beautiful black silk dress! It sheens like my long dark hair and feels oh so very nice. As far as fairies go, I'm also pretty big. Not tummy-big, but vertical-big. Four feet! That's a whopper they said! It is part of how I survived actually. Being big, but still small, made demi-humans and stuff more likely to accept me. More about that later too! So, for now, just imagine a small, slim, and oh so pretty woman, with pale skin and a friendly face, wearing black, and that's me! Backstory: You want this already? For me to tell you any of this then you must have brought me some licorice or a sip of the good stuff! Alrighty then, consider me seduced by your gifts and ready to get deep and meaningful! By the time mid-youth hit, I'd become rather disliked by my peers. I didn't fit their standards. Be merry all the time. Hop on one leg to a three-four beat every dawn. I took a real emotional beating, and did something that was... I'd like to say pretty damn cool... but it probably wasn't. This is a whole other story, that you might learn about if you decide to get to know me better... or buy another bag of licorice? Either way, I left our little patch of the green and sun-filled woodlands, looking for somewhere I might be accepted. It took about a year, I guess. I came across this small human village that was like the middle of a sandwich. Its bread, some big mountains, and a murky swamp. A quiet place. This was going to be home! So in a little corner of some woodland at the mountain's base, I made my home in the burrow of a tree. Mistakenly, I called the ground at the tree's base my home too. It was nice for a good few weeks, until villagers starting coming to my place and doing strange things. They were digging holes! Putting small animals in them! Dead ones at least. I got quite angry about it, but they told me it was good solid ground, a rarity around here, and I had to share it. Reluctantly, I did. Great. Now I lived above an animal and pet graveyard. Great. Now I got to hear children crying about their freshly deceased rabbit, or how an elderly man had to plant his lifelong friend, a hairless cat. Oh, and the smell! Seriously! Some of these holes weren't anywhere near deep enough. But... but... I still wanted this to be my home. Traveling is only fun for so long, and apart from living on a growing literal deceased estate, things around here were pretty good. So what did I do? I got desperate! I still remember the night I prayed, all night, to anyone, anything, that might help. I nearly jumped out of my skin when a woman's voice replied! She called herself Goddess. Yeah, right, I thought, but whatever, tell me what you've got. We made a deal. She'd give me a gift, if in exchange I used it to make people's lives better. The gift of healing! Healing animals! So the fairy in a black dress became the village vet. I worked oh so furiously, you know. The more animals I could heal and help, the less would end up right under my doorstep! Mice with a disease, a grumpy badger with a broken leg, a bird with one wing that didn't work, I healed them all. I'm a Druid now, I thought! Soon I'll be able to shift into the shapes of all kinds of things! Yeah, I was wrong. The Goddess was divine. So the nearest thing I was to anything right now, was a Cleric. I preferred the term Priestess though. Priestess of healing animals! Everything was really great. I was busy, engaged, and filled with purpose. Then, around the time I started to wonder if I could actually heal other animals... like humans and stuff, I woke up somewhere unfamiliar. Great. The Goddess is testing me, right? Well bring it on! Posting Rate: No worries   Something witty goes here "You're all lacerated! Eww!"

[Citizen Sam]

A Nerd Supreme Cadmun Ashward Race: Human (Variant) | Class: Wizard, eventually Conjurer | Gender: Male Background: Former Apprentice Appearance and Clothing Cadmun presents a fairly fastidious appearance. Dark hair is kept short and neat, bordering a set of wandering pale blue eyes usually obscured behind a pair of metal-rimmed reading glasses. Similarly well-groomed is a sad bit of scruff on the man’s chin...an attempt at growing a beard that seems to be going nowhere. His physique is what you’d expect of someone who spends a lot of time reading books and skipping meals; slim bordering on scrawny, with the beginnings of a hunch to his back from many hours poring over books when he still labored in his father’s study. For his wardrobe? Cadmun tends to dress nicely, but not obsequiously so. His clothing is clean and well-made, but usually consists of neutral colors, with little that could make him stand out in a crowd. Personal History The village of Gaetsdale is known for two things; the high quality of its goat cheese…and Mathias Ashward, the Foreseer. Why the inscrutable diviner had decided to settle down in such a sleepy little hamlet is an oft-whispered mystery amongst the townsfolk. …Of course an even bigger mystery is how the prickly, sharp-tongued wizard had somehow managed to convince some poor woman to conceive a son… For as long as he could remember Cadmun had lived and labored in the shadow of his demanding father, being treated as more of a lab assistant the old diviner had to feed and care for than anything resembling a son. For most of his childhood and all of his teens years he was played the dutiful son. Days were spent fetching reagents for Mathias’ mysterious rituals he’d perform in the village’s service. Nights were spent poring over ancient almanacs and recording his discoveries for his elucidation. And never did he complain, or argue, or shirk his duties. After all, it was all he knew. He had no friends or even acquaintances to speak of. Even the village treated him as a curiosity at best, and usually handled him at arm’s length. And then one night Cadmun found his mother’s journal. It was an old dog-eared thing, but the contents inside more than made up for it’s shabbiness. Amazing stories of distant travels, of sights both terrible and beautiful, of intoxicating victories and bitter defeats. Cadmun never knew much of his mother, Laedra, beyond her being an adventurer of some sort. Goodness knows Mathias had little to say about the woman, despite (possibly) having loved her at one point. And so, working up a surprising amount of courage, he brought the journal to his father’s attention. He started asking questions. About what happened to his mother. About how they met. Even about what Mathias had in mind for him… It was to his shock and horror that Mathias’ only response was to incinerate the book on the spot and continue about his day without a word on the matter. By that very evening Cadmun’s mind was made up. Gathering what few belonging he could claim were truly his, the former apprentice vanished into the night, leaving behind his father’s sanctum and the village that had, until now, been his entire world. He didn’t know where would go, he didn’t even know if his father would eventually try to stop him…or indeed, would care that he was missing, but he knew one thing… He’d not spend another night in that prison. Personality And Other Quirks Back before he’d left the village, Cadmun had been timid, quiet, and dutiful. While still generally polite and helpful, now that he’s out of his father’s shadow and with the breadth of the entire world before him, he’s finding himself developing an insatiable curiosity for…well…nearly everything. Cadmun has a singular talent for being seemingly everywhere, in everyone’s business at once, peppering everyone he sees with polite question after polite question, often scribbling the answers down (when he gets answers at least). The things he asks about can make him seem sheltered, sometimes even childishly naive, and he’d be the first to admit it’s probably true. Cadmun is also all to happy to share what he does know. Which he often does, prattling on and on any number of obscure topics to the delight of...usually nobody. He hasn't seemed to have developed his mother's knack for storytelling yet, it seems. ...It's kind of a wonder that he's lasted this long on his own. Still...what remains important is that he is free, for now at least, and he’s going to see, learn, and experience as much as he can. Traits, Ideals, And Flaws Traits- “There’s nothing I like more than a good mystery.” Given how little of the world Cadmun has seen of the world until recently, he’s developed a keen interest in unraveling its secrets. It’s actually rather fascinating how such an unimpressive physical specimen like him can manage to poke his nose into so many places at once…and oftentimes places he shouldn’t. “I am horribly, horribly awkward in social situations.” Living a cloistered life for as long as he could remember, Cadmun can be lacking in…social graces. His questions and investigations can sometimes come off as odd, clueless…or sometimes even insensitive. He’s not intentionally malicious, however, and is quick to back off with an apology when it’s pointed out that he’s coming off as grating, or offensive. Ideal- “Freedom. I’ve gotten a taste of the wider world, and I wish to know more.” Simply put, Cadmun has no intention of returning to his father or to Gaetsdale anytime soon. There’s too much to see, too much to do, and far too many questions that need to be answered…in particular the fate of his mother, Laedra Ashward. Flaw- “Most people scream and run when they see a demon. I stop and take notes on its anatomy.” See above about sticking his nose in places he shouldn’t. Sometimes Cadmun heedlessly pushes too far or digs too deep. And ends up a sticky situation as a result...oftentimes without realizing it.

[Crocodile]

A Simple Taster Name: Kragbhar al-Gruun Race: Orc Class: Fighter Background: City Watch Personality: Straightforward and unbothered by the more complex issues of life, Kraghbar is very much an orc of appetites, concerned not only with satisfying them, but with doing so in the most taste-twisting manner possible. He has trouble thinking in any roundabout fashion, taking life one step at a time and fulfilling his needs as he sees them. If he is hungry, he needs to eat. Thirsty? Drink. Bored? Find fun. Liars? Hurt. He is absolutely guileless, and will enthusiastically jump headfirst into whatever he needs to do to satisfy his desires. This means he can come off as lacking in empathy when a situation arises before him which he cannot relate to, as lacking a frame of reference means he is left more confused than anything. But if there is one concept that he has a firm grasp on, it is that everybody loves good food, and everybody should have good food, regardless of station. To him, this means even the worst of criminals deserve to at least die with their bellies full. Physical Description: Kraghbar's rotund form brings to mind vivid images of the changing states of matter, with the large orc being all rolling, jelly-like folds of skin one moment, and a solid wall of marble grey the next. In fact, with how rounded his countenance is, one would not be amiss in wondering just how he is capable of moving about at any appreciable pace above that of an emaciated tortoise. That would be the initial question at least, until the observing individual's unfortunate eyes noticed that the orc's arms and legs seemed more akin to living siege engines than limbs, both stiff with mounds muscle and jiggly with waves of fat as they moved about with heavy anti-grace, feet plodding about as if their very purpose was to test the limits of gravity's pull on the massive orc. Large tusks jut out the sides of the mouth in fairly good condition despite their yellowed sheen, but are still not the most prominent facial feature Kraghbar possesses despite their length. A large nose which has been reset in so many places it could qualify as an art piece, cracked lips split in multiple places, a jigsaw of scars all across a face full of stubble to complement the angry old wounds which cover him from head smooth shaved head to mangled toe, all signs point to an individual who has lead a hard life. But when he smiles, despite the terror which comes from seeing the saggy mass of scars be pulled back in horrendous fashion, he seems to exude a genuine, innocent joy, with bright yellow eyes turned wide and beholding the world as if for the very first time, a new light shining behind the abused visage, seeking the pleasures of the world which he has clearly been sampling in abundance. Backstory: It had been centuries since the Immortal Sultan's dynasty had brought together the disparate tribes of the desert kingdom of Eransahr, and the 'wild orcs' had been no exception to this conquest. Civilizing the uncivilized it had been called, and though history was never so straightforward, the kingdom's prosperity had buried any lingering questions as to the ends justifying the means. The human nomads' ancestral knowledge of the dune sea designated them masterful scouts in the kingdom's service, the dwarves' metal and stonework now served to build splendorous monuments and deadly armaments, the elves were tasked with forever safeguarding and expanding the knowledge of the grand libraries, and the orcs, for the fierceness they had once shown in the days before all was one, were made the backbone of the royal guard and military, entrusted with keeping the peace and eliminating all threats to the kingdom from within and without. Kraghbar had been no different than any other orc raised under this regime, taught from a young age that his destiny was to fight and die for Sultan, to keep all in its place as it should be, and in so doing reap the rewards of true unity. And so he did, sacrificing his body against raiders, beasts, and rebels alike in order to preserve the Sultan's order. Many times he heard whispers of discontent from the masses, but he never paid attention to any of that. And why would he? He did as he was told, and when he was off duty, he got to sit down at his favorite food stall and eat one delicious meal after the next. So when the four adventurers came to stir up trouble, Kraghbar chased them just as he would any other dissident. When the Sultan demanded a tripling of the guard, he was on the streets kicking down doors and pursuing the rebels with as much gusto as the rest. When his favorite chef and their family was hauled away for treason against His Majesty... It all came to a head when the adventurers, through trial and tribulations unknown, had finally found themselves in audience with the Sultan himself, an immortal dao prince of the earthen realm who had decided to make his home in the prime material, surrounded by luxuries untold and attended by humbled, bowed mortals for whom the wealth may well have been a mirage. The subjects they spoke of mostly went over the orcish guard's head, as he was too distracted by the marvelous spread of food that had been presented at the ornate long table. He had never imagined the palace had such tasty delicacies. In the middle of the banter back and forth between the adventurers and the Sultan, one of their number, a cheery, bright haired gnomish woman, offered a plate of food to an emaciated looking human child, one of the servants. The conflict on the child's face confused Kraghbar, but hunger won out in the end, and the child burst into tears as they bit into the delicious meal. The orc envied the young one, wondering when he would get a turn. Then an earthen fist grew from the ground and instantly crushed the child to a pulp. "Vermin do not eat from the master's table." Those were the last words the Sultan spoke before all hells broke loose, the adventurers drawing spell and blade in preparation for battle as the guards began to rush the interlopers. Except Kraghbar surprised even himself when his glaive was instead piercing through the back of one of his fellow clansmen. And he did not stop. Even when the throne room became far too dangerous for all but the most powerful of warriors, Kraghbar did not stop. As the battle spilled into the streets and loyalists clashed with rebels, Kraghbar held tightly to the face of the child, to the face of the chef, to the feast which had been laid before him and which he now knew he would never be able to touch for as long as the Sultan ruled. That nobody would be able to touch. The adventuring four were hailed as heroes as they held aloft the lamp which contained the once proud Sultan. With the dao imprisoned, the loyalists were cowed, and their surrender was swift. A new dawn was upon the kingdom, and the people celebrated as they threw aside the divisions of the caste system which had restricted them for so long. For Kraghbar, the celebration was bitersweet. Many of the loyalist faction had been his brothers and sisters of the orcish clans, indoctrinated from birth and never given a chance to be anything else but loyal shock troops. Whatever Eransahr would become, he knew that nothing here would taste as good as it once did, and that kind of existence was unacceptable to the large orc. Better he try his luck with the foods of other lands.

[DemonSlayer]

Leonora Name: Leonora Arnuanna Class: Going for either oath of the Crown or oath of the Ancients, depending on roleplayPaladin Race: Half-elf Background: Personality Trait: I am protective of those around me, regardless of whether they need (or deserve) such treatment. Personaliy Trait: I am quick to compliment others on their achievements- deserved praise wins hearts, but idle praise poisons them. Ideal: The beauty of nature must be safeguarded. Bond: I am sworn to serve sir Roderick, both as mistress of the hunt and as his protector. Flaw: I have trouble suppressing my envious streak, especially towards those who are granted what I have to work for. Courtier History Leonora Arnuanna was born thirty-seven years ago, a result of a short-lived tryst between a human mother and an elven father. Leonora's father, Navurel Arnuanna, is a minor noble and ally of sir Roderick, while her mother reputedly was a merchant's apprentice. Despite both agreeing to share but a single night, Navurel found himself visited by the woman's father four years later. The merchant presented young Leonora to Navural, and announced the elf would be taking care of his daughter henceforth, for his own family had fallen on hard times. Taken wholly by surprise, Navurel could only stare and blink at the man's back as he left the Arnuanna estate, never to return. To his credit, Navurel did his best to show affection to the young Leonora. But their relation proved to be a difficult one. Navurel expected too much of his daughter, teaching her as he would have an elf, rather than take into account the carefree childishness granted by her human blood. As a result, Leonora came to dislike studying or reading, for no matter how hard she tried, she would fail to meet her father's expectations. At the same time Navurel kept treating Leonora as a child, even well into her twenties- for he was accustomed to the slow rate at which elves mature, not the precocious nature of humans. And so a rift formed between father and daughter, one frustrated with his inability to raise the girl, the other by her inability to be who she was expected to be. And so, on her thirtieth birthday, Navurel announced that he had secured a position for his daughter at the court of sir Roderick- a largely human court, where he hoped she would flourish. But to Leonora it felt like a dismissal, a confirmation of her failure. With heavy heart, father and daughter parted ways. Yet at sir Roderick's court, Leonora once again failed to meet expectations. Due to her skill with sword and bow, she eventually earned a position as one of the lord's protectors, as well as the title mistress of the hunt. But for all other aspects of courtly life, Leonora was woefully unprepared. She knew little of etiquette or worldly knowledge due to the poor education provided by her father, and her relative isolation at an elven court meant she had no experience engaging others in conversation. The half-elf quickly became known as a novelty to laugh at, who was only tolerated at court as a courtesy to her father- despite Leonora being one of the few who had not earned her position through birthright, but by actual merit. For her part, Leonora often felt torn during her days at court. On one hand, she was seeking desperately to excel at her duties, in hopes of gaining the approval of others courtiers. And on the other hand, her Sylvan blood fueled a longing for freedom, a need to escape the suffocating courts and experience the beauty of life without restraint. And so, when sir Roderick announced his intention to cross the Yonder Sea, Leonora was among the first to volunteer- not only out of duty to her lord, but also for the chance at adventure, to see the untamed beauty of uncharted lands. Personality Leonora's life has been defined by her failure to meet the expectations of others, and her drive to prove she belongs. Her need to win the approval of others have molded her into a calm, loyal individual, quick to try and please those she considers her betters. Adherence to her duties is paramount to the young half-elf, for she hopes that by meeting the standards others have set for her, she will finally be accepted. This perspective has taught her to always treat others with kindness and respect, even if they do not return the favor. Showing her frustration, honestly admitting her emotions- these are all things which have caused others to dismiss her as childish or boorish. This had led her to putting others first, and her own considerations second- an admirable trait, but one others are quick to take advantage of. Yet her calm, polite demeanour is but a mask for her insecureties. In her heart, she doubts her purpose. She is sworn to the service of a noble through no choice of her own, and in her most private moments longs to escape her duties. Perhaps due to her Sylvan blood, Leonora has developed a fascination to the wild beauty of the natural world- a love which led her to the position of mistress of the hunt. It remains to be seen which, in the end, wins out- her sense of duty, or her desire for freedom. Leonora has an envious streak to her- deep down she resents those who ridicule her, those who were born to their stations and raised educated accordingly. She wishes things would come so easily to her as they have come to them, feeding her frustration with others. Usually, the dutiful Leonora has been able to keep such thoughts in check, but they have on occassion caused trouble for her, when her disdain with some arrogant fop grew too strong to conceal. Appearance Leonora has long, ash blond hair, which she usually wears in a loose ponytail- a style which camouflages her pointed ears, which she feels set her apart. Her eyes are a sparkling blue, always darting around to take in as much of the world as she can. Despite the many hours she spends outside, Leonora's skin is quite pale, as she shuns the blinding sun for the cool shelther provided by the shadows. She is a hunter, and as such will subconsciouly veer towards whatever spot is most tenebrous- which, as an added benefit, keeps others from noticing her unduly. As someone whom's position includes the planning, organizing and conducting of great outdoor events, it is perhaps no wonder that Leonora prefers practical clothes, in blacks, whites and browns. While she does try to keep up with the latest fashion, the young half-elf often falls behind, wearing last season's or even last year's colours. This is a result of her uneasy relationship with most others at court, as Leonora is usually out of the loop concerning such matters. Leonora therefore usually wears neutral clothing which she can claim are meant for her work, rather than risk ridicule for trying something extravagant. Leonora is shorter than most at court, possibly due to her elven heritage. This, combined with her slender, lithe form, gives her a rather girlish appearance which only exacerbates the low opinion others have of her. To offset this, Leonora often wears simple, elegant jewelry, rather than the ostentatious sort worn by children- and, coincidentally, many of her peers at court. She avoids earrings, however, as she is hesitant to draw attention to her pointed ears.

 

Leonora Arnuanna, half-elf paladin (

• Personality Trait: I am protective of those around me, regardless of whether they need (or deserve) such treatment.
• Personaliy Trait: I am quick to compliment others on their achievements- deserved praise wins hearts, but idle praise poisons them.
• Ideal: The beauty of nature must be safeguarded.
• Bond: I am sworn to serve sir Roderick, both as mistress of the hunt and as his protector.
• Flaw: I have trouble suppressing my envious streak, especially towards those who are granted what I have to work for.

courtier)

HP: 12/12
AC: 16
Speed: 30
Senses: Passive perception 11, darkvision 60'

STR	8	-1
DEX	16	+3
CON	14	+2
INT	8	-1
WIS	12	+3
CHA	16	+5

Abilities & Saves |

Athletics	+1
Inisight	+3
Intimidation	+5
Persuasion	+5
Stealth	+5
Survival	+3
Common
Elven
Orcish
Giant
Sylvan

Skills & Languages |

• Rapier: +5, d8+3 piercing, finesse
• Shortbow: +5, d6+3 piercing, two-handed, ranged 80/320
• Leather & shield: AC 13

Combat |

• Explorer's pack
• Holy Symbol
• Fine clothes
• Purse w/ 5 gp

Equipment |

• Court Functionary: Gain access to records and inner workings of noble courts/governments. Knows the movers and shakers, who can provide favors, and the current intrigues.
• Fey Ancestry: Advantage on saves vs Charmed, can't be put to sleep magically.

Special

Expendables
* HD: 1/1 d10
* Arrows: 20
* As an action, sense the location of celestials, fiends or undead within 60' until the end of your turn.Divine Sense: 4/4 per long rest
* As an action, spend points to heal a touched creature (1:1) or remove a poison/disease (5:1).Lay on Hands: 5/5 per long rest

[Alemar]

Application Name: Harper Demarque (Character Link) Race: Tiefling - Lineage of Dispater Class: Ranger -X-X-X- Sailor Background Trait #1 I am driven by wanderlust that led me to far away shores. Trait #2 The Sea is freedom. To go where ever I want, when ever I want. Bond I pursue fame and wealth to secure someone's love. Ideal The ancient traditions of worship and sacrifice must be upheld. Flaw Despite my best efforts, I can be unreliable to my friends. Personality: Happy-go-lucky and friendly to a fault, Harper may not always keep a smile on her face. But it tends to return as quickly as the winds change. Her lust for adventure and excitement has a tendency to get Harper into trouble; But luckily, sometimes the best cure to an adventurous heart, is to simply indulge and say "Yes". Harper is content to go with the flow and see where adventure carries her next.   Harper doesn't talk about her past much, claiming that she was found on a ship as a baby and simply stayed on. The Captain might have taken it as a sign (or an omen) to have a demon child swinging and swaying on the tide below decks in her little hammock. But he somehow knew that to throw the hapless babe overboard would surely spell ruin for his ship. And to his credit, as long as the child was aboard, and happy, he seemed to have nothing but fair winds, and fine seas. He named the thing "Demarque" as in the term for marking safe passages and borders on maps, knowing that when she came of a proper age, she would be able to choose a name of her own. One evening when she and the Crew were docked and watering themselves in a Tavern, Dee as she had begun to call herself met a young man... Well, a Bard... He had hair that shone of the coins everyone was always arguing over, and eyes that reminded the young teen of an oncoming squall. She knew right then and there that she loved this man, even if he didn't yet. She spent all evening listening to this man. Trying to build up the courage to speak to him while he played a strange stringed instrument. Finally she approached her would be love. "Excuse me Sir, what is your name? I mean, what is that thing that you play?" Turning to her, his smile radiant, the man gave her an appraising glance; Then plucked a small silver brooch the same shape as his instrument from his collar, and handed it to her. "It's called a Harp, you may simply call me Harper... Here, take this to remember me by. " He chuckled knowingly. Ever since that day she has been smitten, and has even begun to call herself by that name. She hopes that one day, she will be rich and famous enough for her love to take notice, and then they can sail the world together, having their fill of adventure, and each other, to their heart's content.

[Grouchy]

Character Concept Name: Companion Liam of the Church of Helm Race: Variant Human Class: Cleric 1 (Twilight Domain) Background: Soldier (Everwatch Knights) Personality: Honor and duty are the most important things to Liam, and he has little time for games. Deep down he feels immensely guilty for his past indiscretions, and although he treats others with empathy he is unusually hard on himself. He knows Helm has chosen him to do great things however, and is looking to make himself into a man worthy of respect once again. He is incredibly persistent and stubborn, and once he sets his mind to something he will do his best to accomplish his goal even if he dies trying. Steadfast and laconic, Liam is a warrior with lots of courage who has vowed to stand up for those who cannot defend themselves. Liam struggles with his pride, and would rather set himself on fire than ever admit he was wrong about something. Physical Description: Companion Liam is a broad shouldered man of average height, with short oily black hair and brown eyes that stare with a raptorlike gaze. He has a groomed full beard and a wide flat nose, with pockmarks on both of his cheeks and a small whitish scar on the left side of his chin. He has a stony expression on his face, and does not appear to be the type of man who smiles often. He wears a well polished suit of chain mail armor with a blue and white tabard that has the symbol of a gauntlet with an eye on the palm. A thick brown leather belt is cinched around his waist where he wears a dagger and a small pouch. He carries a massive two handed sword easily in his hands, and he holds himself with the ramrod discipline of a trained soldier. Backstory: A reformed alcoholic, Liam was raised in poverty in Helm's Hold and had an abusive father who often used to beat him when he was drinking. Liam avoided being at home as much as possible in his youth, and would frequently roam the streets with other wayward youths and getting themselves into trouble. Liam took to the drink at an early age, and just like his father he had a short fuse when he was intoxicated. He soon became known as an aspiring street tough, willing to fight anyone over anything just to prove a point. When Liam was twelve summers old, he was large enough that when his father began to try to attack him as he had before, Liam fought back and beat his own father senseless. Shocked at what he had done, Liam ran off to get drunk and try to forget. Liam's father wasn't the same after that, and soon at his wife's urging he began going to temple services at the Cathedral of Helm and swore off drinking. Liam didn't believe him, and even seeing the positive changes in his father's life from his new faith and sobriety did little to sway the troubled youth. It wasn't until he was in his fourteenth summer when his father was murdered in the streets protecting a young woman he didn't know from a group of thieves that he finally realized his father had changed. This rocked Liam - his father was never that type of man before, and he died nobly defending someone else. Perhaps there was something to this religion stuff after all. Out of respect for his late father, Liam began attending temple services at the Cathedral of Helm and soon he found a worthy aspiration in the God of Guardians. Liam swore off drinking and began helping his mother around the house, and soon he was an energetic zealot for the Helmite faith. He tried out for and was accepted into the Everwatch Knights, a group of professional bodyguards working for the Temple of Helm who would hire the bodyguards out to earn coin for the Cathedral. Liam proved to be a steadfast soldier as he saw a second chance at an honorable life and jumped on it with both feet. He showed himself to be a promising bodyguard, and on his third protection detail is when the Watcher chose Liam for his own. Liam and a handful of other Everwatch Knights were escorting a diplomat from Helm's Hold to Luskan when they were attacked by a group of would-be assassins. The Everwatch Knights managed to fend off their attack, but as they were fleeing one of them shot a poisonous arrow at Liam. To this day, Liam swears he felt an otherworldly presence as his sword turned perfectly to meet the arrow in flight. The assassins were just as shocked as he was, and they fled into the night. It was then when Helm spoke into both his mind and his heart, calling on him to perform his duty and to fulfill his destiny as one of the chosen protectors of Helm himself. Liam returned to Helm's Hold a newly chosen man just a few months ago, and he was subsequently reassigned to the Companions of the One True Vision and underwent more basic training. He is now fresh out of his training, has had the title Companion bestowed upon him, and is ready to follow the path Helm has laid before him. Assigned to accompany Sir Roderick as his bodyguard to explore the Yonder Sea, Liam feels the Vigilant One has placed him on a worthy path.

[silverfeathers]

The Oak and the Acorn Character name: Jane Quartzknife (Lady Jane, Jane of the oak/acorn) Race: dwarf, mountain Class: cleric (nature domain, back up tempest) Background: acolyte Personality: Jane is a devote servant of her Lord Silvanus. She is steadfast in her belief that she was selected and pulled from the depths of the dwarven mines to spread Silvanus’ word through the lands near and far, above and below. Jane is has warm and friendly personality. She is quick to offer assistance to those that need it. Her father described her as 'steadfast as a waymarker'. Thought she is not an outright people person she seeks out those with any common interest to talk to them or see what she can do to help them or spread Silvanus’ work even in the smallest way. Like most dwarves Jane is stubborn and once she sets her mind to something she will follow through to its conclusion. Physical Description: Jane is stout, muscular and maybe a titch round. She keeps her plain brown hair braided or up in a bun. She has brown eyes and a light scatter freckles on her cheeks and nose. She wears chainmail and vestments in the colors of Salvanus (green, cream and gold) along with her trusty Warhammer at her side. Backstory: Jane is the third of five children. She grew up in the dark and artificially lit caverns and mines of the Hammerburst Clan in the Black Mountains. The Hammerburst Clan is well known throughout the kingdoms for its decorative stone work and metal smithing. The clan often takes on projects of restoration or bids on new construction above and below the surface for all races, customizing the designs on the request of the client. Jane was educated in working with stone and carving from an early age. She was well into her apprenticeship as a mason and figure carver when she fell from a scaffold that she was ascending to a project site. It was then she had a vison of a green, sunlit f orest. A stone and timber chapel and bearded man clad in green robes made of oak leaves and a crown of branches. He said,” welcome child. You will be my acorn in the lands across the waters.” When Jane awoke she knew that the man in her vision was Silvanus. The chapel was the project she was being assigned to next month; her first surface project. A blueprint had been shown to her a few weeks back. In deed her next project was to restore a small chapel in a forest. The one from her vision, Silvanus’ chapel. While restoring the chapel Jane began to read about Silvanus and his teachings of nature. She found the scripture comforting and really connected with it. At the conclusion of her restoration of the chapel Jane separated from her clan to persue the teachings of Silvanus. She continued to have visions of the nature god telling her to go across the waters. What that meant she did not know. Again after many years spent in somewhat isolation, learning new things about the surface world. Jane was given the blessing of her order, the Order of the Oak, as full acolyte of Silvanus, ready to spread the word of life and nature to those that would listen. Full of knowledge about Silvanus and her Dwarven brethren Jane set off to make her way in the world and cross any body of water that came her way hoping it was the one that her vision spoke of so often. Eventually a posting calling for a crew to set sail over the Yonder Sea caught Jane’s eye. Maybe that was the water her God was telling her to cross. The Un-crossable Sea, the crossing no one had completed or returned from. Many had tried from what Jane had been told. Sir Rockrick was enthusiastic to say the least when Jane met him. He was more than eager to having the blessing of a god on his ship. If nothing else he assured Jane she could administer last rights should they be needed or help with the rigging and sails. It could be taught fairly quickly Sir Rodrick laughed. Truth be told Jane was now a bit skeptical of the idea of sailing. She had really never been in a boat much larger than a barge and had never been in anything rougher than a few lapping waves down at the beach. Would she sink before she learned to swim? Time would tell.