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  #16  
Old Mar 14th, 2014, 12:35 AM
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Projitsu Projitsu is offline
The Story Sculptor
 
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Name: Sorren Zen
Race: Drow
Class: Ranger
Alignment: Neutral Good
 
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Last edited by Projitsu; Mar 18th, 2014 at 07:06 PM.
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  #17  
Old Apr 16th, 2014, 04:28 PM
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Great Wyrm
 
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Name: Hawk Magiinar
Race: Gray Elf
Class: Sneaky
Physical Description: Stands at 4'10" with silver hair and amber eyes. A hard look often graces his almost effeminate features as he views the world through the eyes of hardship.
Background: (Rough so that I can get it out fast)
Son of Sparrow Magiinar, outcast from the ShadowWing tribe. Hawk grew up surrounded by gnomes and dwarves, and learned a lot from their cruel teasing of the elf. Namely, that the surest way to avoid getting punched in the face was to break the arm before it hit you.

When Hawk had reached his minor majority (roughly 14th birthday in human terms), Sparrow sent the boy away to a friend of the family, a gnome with some specialized talents which according to Hawks' father, the boy would resonate with.

The next dozen years were spent with Glarin, who taught the boy how to pick a lock or two while working Hawk to make him earn his keep. Chopping wood, and cooking meals while the annoying little gnome would sit there reading his books with letters that moved on the pages.

One morning, Glarin didn't get up and give Hawk the gentle 'wake up' kick. Feeling a little brave, the elf boy peeked into the Glarin's room and saw a bloody mess where someone had slit his throat very quietly in the night.

Understandably distraught, Hawk ran. Far and fast. No one had liked Glarin, but apparently this went beyond what Hawk had understood of the man and didn't want to be associated with the gnome in any way if he could avoid it.

Writing Sample: In the meantime here's a thread with the character I'm basing this off of.
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Last edited by prometheous100; Apr 17th, 2014 at 12:56 PM.
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  #18  
Old May 11th, 2014, 02:05 AM
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Yuul Yuul is offline
Master of Undeath
 
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Name: Eris ChaosWeaver
Class: Focused Conjurer
Race: Whisper Gnome
Brief Physical Description: Eris stands at just a few inches shy of four feet, roughly the same height as some of the shorter dwarven women. Whisper gnomes are taller than their more common kin, thinner too, and Eris does nothing to prove an exception to this rule. She saves that for other things. Her hair is an inky black, contrasting greatly with her nearly porcelain pale gray tinged skin. Like others of her kind, Eris' dark blue eyes like the vibrancy typically found in their cousins but there is no mistaking the mischievous heart that dwells there. Though her form is hardly unattractive, her cold silence and aloof mistrust of others remains very off putting for others not of her kind. The unsettling smile doesn't help much either.

Brief Background: Eris was born fifty-one years ago in the Whisper Gnome community of Underfoot, settled firmly underfoot the expanding dwarven homes above it. Supposedly the gnomes had set up shop here shortly after the dwarves did, though there were only a few in the beginning. But then others came and the custom of her people ended up living right under the noses of a larger community than their own. In someways it was something of a private joke, in others it was a necessary fact of life. Not that Eris herself had ever bothered herself with the reasons for those facts, she always had more important things to be doing. Like having her nose deep inside some magical tome or another. In a gnomish community, even a whisper kin one, this was considered perfectly normal. As was her early talent for the wizard's craft. What was decidedly different was what she focused on learning. Most gnomes dove straight into the tricky lights and mesmerizing patterns of the illusion school at first glance, Eris on the other hand took great delight in magics that changed the world around her before her very eyes, that wrought things into being that had not even existed moments before, rather than merely making it seem like they had. Her early love of the conjuration school was undeniable, every bit as much as her talent for it in fact.

She scorned the schools of evocation and necromancy fairly early on into her learning, once her path had been firmly set into mastering the arcane, and enchantment followed soon thereafter. She was a mischievous little thing, even then, and chaotic events seemed drawn to her no matter where she went, sometimes as intentional pranks, other times as unintentional side effects or flukes. It was through this that she earned her gnomish nickname of ChaosWeaver, the two words run together as if they were one, a typical gnomish speaking pattern, even if they had many other differences with their common kin. When not amongst her own kind, although until recent events that has been rare, Eris comes across as cold, uncaring, and withdrawn individual. It's as much an attempt to deflect attention as it is a social defense mechanism. Or defense mechanism in general. While her aim at range is quite good, she is absolutely hopeless up close and to become so vulnerable is a harbored fear that she does her best not to let on. The recent events that revealed her people to the dwarves and forced their cohabitation have been putting something of a strain on that as it is.
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  #19  
Old Jul 21st, 2014, 06:06 PM
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Ancient Dragon
 
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Name: Drin and Animal Companion
Class: Druid-Rouge
Race: Halfling
Alignment: Neutral
 


 



Last edited by drag0nga1axy; Aug 1st, 2014 at 02:44 PM. Reason: Added Character sheet link.
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  #20  
Old Jul 26th, 2014, 09:13 PM
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Great Wyrm
 
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Name: Markus
Class: Cleric (he's actually a fighter, but the cleric is a better fighter than the fighter is)
Race: Dwarf
Alignment: Lawful something (Neutral/Good I'll let the DM figure it out)
Physical Description: Standing at a solid 4' 4", Markus is slightly taller than the average dwarf, but solidly built with a coating of muscle over every one of his bones, and a deep chest protected by armor even when he sleeps. The bald and beardless dwarf laughs at stereotypes when people ask him what happened to his beard, and he always replies "You see... all that hair is dangerous when you're working a forge, most of the respectable ones are hairless, you just see the merchants and traders!"

Background: While traveling with his family out of the wasteland surrounding Dorgun Dun on a trading expedition, young Markus had gotten separated from his parents in the confusing woodlands of the Green Peaks. Walking, lost, the little boy started calling out for help when a large boar must have heard his calls and decided the dwarf was too close to the animals territory. Markus saw nothing until he heard the sudden stomping of hooves on the packed ground... turning to see to boar only a dozen feet away the dwarven child leaped to one side to try avoiding the huge creature.

Then when opened his eyes again, the sound had stopped. There was an arrow protruding from the boars neck, neatly severing its spine. The Green Peaks Mountain Patrol had heard him and came to help him!

It took only a day to find his family with the help of the patrols tracker, and Markus never forgot the kindness of the Patrol, seeking out the lost boy, saving his life, and finding his family. He vowed that one day he would be part of the patrol and help others just like they had helped him.
OOCThat's the interesting bits, when they made it back to Dorgun Dun, he worked the forge to improve his skills, when he reached the age of maturity he headed off to apply to the GPMR as part of the support staff making armor for the brave patrollers. Hoping that one day he would be able to go out rescuing people as well, since he had a working knowledge of his armor and how to best use it.
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  #21  
Old Jul 4th, 2015, 07:56 PM
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The sexy in dyslexia
 
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“Guilt makes people do the weirdest things. It must be awful to have a conscience.”
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Name: Remy Fabron
Class: Rogue
Race: Human
Age/Sex: 16;Male

Physical Description: Tall, skinny, Redish-Brown hair, brown eyes that combine the innocence of youth with a "hollow deadness" that speaks of darker times, otherwise nothing special stands out he is average you could say and easily lost in a crowd.

Personality: Remy enjoys life, He has a blatant disregard for most laws and rules, and while he enjoys company he also places a high value on his personal time, his exact nature is hard to pin down as he seems equally happy soaking in the sun while looking at clouds as he does while pillaging a temple or stealing from a beggar, that is not to say that he is evil as he also prone to random acts of kindness depending on his mood. One thing is for certain time spent with Remy is typically enjoyable.


Writing Sample/Background:My father was good man, an honest man, a hard working man... He was a black smith, he toiled day in and out; Heavy hammer, hot fire, long days, that was my father’s way and in return he afforded a small cabin, by a lake on the outskirts of town. It was a simple life, but a good one; that he provided for me along with my mother. Plain but hot meals, Fishing in our spare time, the occasional camping trip to river in the woods, and most importantly he was happy trading a hard day’s work for a few of life's simple pleasures. Like I said my father was a good man, a hardworking man... a stupid man.

I wasn't even 10 when I realized my father's way of life was not for me, I'd tried an apprenticeship at his shop, the sweat of the brow, aching muscles, and smelling of coal every night was bad enough but the true insufferable quality of it was that it was boring. Sword or plow the basic elements where not that different and it offered no excitement. Well other than the few times I "found" a forgotten item or two that customers left behind, First thing I lifted was a copper ring, just a band nothing special, probably had enough material laying around to forge 50 of them then and there, but the thrill of slipping it off the man’s finger when we shook hands, that was priceless and the pint of goats milk and loaf of bread I traded it for, nothing had ever tasted so good, eat the whole loaf myself.

I left the shop behind when I was 12, nothing in the two years prior had showed me anything that inclined me to think working to get by was better than taking whatever I wanted, so I broke the news to my parents; black smiting was not my calling, baking was. The ruse was easy enough, swipe a loaf of bread on my way home a little flour on the shirt or pants, a spot behind the ear it was enough to sell them, and though father was non to happy that i had forsaken smithing, he was proud that I was working to earn a living and he supported me because I seemed to be genuinely happy. Meanwhile I was happy, I got to spend the whole of my days on the streets perfecting my craft, in time I got pretty good, good enough that the old man start raising an brow at some of the thing I "bought" on my baker's wages.

It was funny really i never felt bad about taking anything, but I couldn't bring myself to steal his happiness, after all he worked so hard for it, which is why I decided it was time to go, Told em' i was off to set up shop as a baker wherever I could find the need. Wish you could have seen them, they were so proud, mom even gave me her rolling pin, and hollow metal dad had forged, smooth as lake water on a calm day. Stole a horse that night from the mayor’s manor and headed out, while after a short stop at a few local stores, rode to nearest big city and started doing what I enjoy, had to sleep on the streets when i started out but I loved every minute of it.

It was on those streets that I meet Desmond an older man who shared my hobbies, and Rukki a girl of 14 only one year my senior who worked as his partner, as time went on he started using me more and more helped me perfect my craft and in time took me in, he taught me that the only thing better than taking from someone was tricking them into giving it to you. It was whole new game and I picked up the rules quickly with Rukki and Desmond's help. The three of us made a great team, and Desmond always treated me well, unlike Rukki who he seemed to view as more of a tool. I had often asked her why she didn't leave but she never did give a straight answer, one time she said "because I can't, now stop asking.", so I did. Still we grew close her and me, we shared a life together for the next 3 years, and in time that closeness blossomed into full blown love.

On my 16th Birthday I returned to the run down shack we called home expecting the typical fan fair that had become the norm when one of us celebrated something of import, a good meal, a cake and a competition to see who had stolen the most grandiose gift. But the shack was empty, and the stash was gone, I was alone again and as poor as the day I had set out, I waited three nights in the shack without moving, but they wouldn't be back I knew that. The old man Desmond was no small timer and the streets where changing, subtle shifts in power no commoner would notice, moving to fill his gap and fighting over the scraps left behind. I almost lost heart then and there but as I left the shack I found Rukki's dagger tossed in a small pile of trash near what I had once called home, a perfect match to my own, and the first thing we had stolen after declaring our love for one another. Sure you might think she dropped it by mistake or tossed away along with my memory... But you didn't know her like I did, this was her message to me, her way of saying that she didn't want to go but had too. I made up my mind then and there, that I would track them down and free Rukki from whatever power the old man had over her. Been almost a year to date since then and my searches have brought me as far as Green Peak, well in that general area anyway.


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Last edited by Jaggedblade421; Jul 4th, 2015 at 08:36 PM.
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  #22  
Old Jul 20th, 2015, 08:31 PM
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Saraquai Saraquai is offline
Great Wyrm
 
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Name: Sarrist
Class: Fighter
Race: Human
Age/Sex: 23;Male

https://www.rpgcrossing.com/profiler/view.php?id=53365

Sarrist lived a pretty simple life. Simple for a man with no particular worthwhile skill. His parents who were homesteaders moved from area to area raising villages out of wilderness. They were never particularly fond of a civilized life. They preferred the hard life, raising their own house, growing or hunting their own food, and building a livable space for others until it became too crowded. Normally after ten families moved into a ten mile radius it was time to move.

A normal child would adapt to this lifestyle, becoming a natural hunter or survivalist. You could call Sarrist odd. The only thing he was really good at is breaking things. Whether it was tools or bones it didn't matter much. He really only ever liked to fight, his parents would never admit that their constant moving was a result of Sarrist fighting with most of the other kids around him. The only thing he ever learned from his parents was how to build a trap. Of course the trap was meant to capture food, not other children.

Forced to move once again because Sarrist trapped several families children all at once, Sarrist family moved off in a general direction away from humans. They were adept at staying hidden from animals and evil, they never expected to be attacked from other humans. It seemed Sarrist had trapped the wrong child at one of their stops. He never knew which child, he only knows it cost the lives of his parents. The bandits caught them unawares while Sarrist was out destroying a tree with his fathers favorite shovel.

That shovel buried his parents when he finally returned to their camp. He left the corpses of the men who attacked them for the scavengers. He didn't shed a tear for the loss of his parents, it was just the way of nature. He took what he could carry and left the rest for whoever followed and headed out, his direction determined by the way the wind blowing.

Last edited by Saraquai; Jul 27th, 2015 at 03:56 AM.
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