logan
Junior Member
Posts: 74
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Post by logan on Jul 23, 2011 21:36:52 GMT -4
Background Findecano Miriel ("Fin", as he will tell you) is an Elf born from a single-mother near Iadara, the capital of Kyonin. His childhood was rough, his mother's life of promiscuity and excess often left him to take care of himself. Smaller than many other elves, he grew tough and mean quickly as he was frequently bullied. Unable to physically defend himself, he became very interested in other means of retribution. Fin was expelled from school after exacting revenge, using a bomb, on some of his tormentors. Having no other choice, Fin left home and started living on his own. While living on the street and travelling from town to town, he continued to experiment and use books to further his skills in alchemy. Eventually, Fin was caught stealing supplies from an alchemy shop and was put in jail. While serving time, he met some very dubious prisoners and heard stories of riches and power. After 2 long years, Fin was very surprised when his long-lost father came back in his life. He paid the fines and Fin was released in to his care. Happy to be free and delighted to have the love and support of the father he never knew, Fin moved with him, to a remote part of Kyonin. His dad, who was also a skilled alchemist taught him further and enhanced his skills and made available more resources to help Fin perfect his craft. Fin excelled and started making more and more bombs and mutagens to his father's great pleasure. Finally feeling like he had a place where he belonged… Fin was devastated years later, when he found letters written by his father to various contacts, indicating that this elf was not actually his son. This impostor, deeply involved in the black market, had gotten word of Fin's skills and story from an incarcerated associate. When Fin realized this betrayal, he built bombs rigged to explode upon the opening of his front door, packed his things and left to live on his own again. Back to the old cycle, Fin was not willing to accept a life of poverty. Living like his impostor father, Fin gained and expanded his black market contacts, and began supplying bombs and other alchemist products to the criminal underworld. Fin continued to deal on the black market, expanding his contacts and sales outside of bombs and potions, including stolen goods and very rare items. Appearance Even for an Elf, Fin is short and frail and from afar may appear very unimposing. However, when one gets closer his appearance can be unsettling and even intimidating. Scars stretch across his scalp and forehead and down to his left eye as a result of an acid bomb accident, during his early forays in to the craft. One eye, still its original color, is a beautiful sky blue. The other is now an off-green and always looks swollen and sore. His face is worn with age and looks stern. Fin has long since gotten used to the uncomfortable glances, rare eye contact and the startled cries from horrified children. He is known use his harsh appearance to influence "negotiations" with his business associates. Trying to keep a low profile, Fin wears a large, thin coat to conceal his weapons and supplies. The Professor With an ever growing list of contacts and wares, Fin had trafficked many rare and less than legal goods for everyone from low-life thugs to nobles and officials. With an established underworld reputation, Fin was asked to meet with a "very important, very respected" person. Upon arriving at the meeting spot, Fin was surprised to see Lorrimor, the author of many alchemical books he had read. Lorrimor was looking to expand his research in to areas he would not discuss, but required items and supplies that could not be attained through legitimate means. Fin met him in another town, two weeks later with some of the most valuable and exotic items he had ever come across. Lorrimor paid him well for the task, and suggested he would be in contact again. Fin didn't hear from him again. That is, until he got a letter asking him to travel to Ravengro per Lorrimor's will. Hoping that he may receive something elusive and expensive, Fin packed up his things, attached a bomb to the front door of his hovel, climbed out the window and started his journey to Ravengro. Attachments:
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Post by Juniper on Jul 26, 2011 15:32:41 GMT -4
APPEARANCE: The woman has been in the saddle since early morning. Her straight blonde hair has begun to escape its heavy braid and long tendrils hang damply over her tanned face, slightly pointed ears shamelessly exposed. Blue eyes examine her target impassively, and she sits easily in the saddle with her slim arms crossed on the pommel, leaning forward comfortably as she talks so that her high breasts gleam white and close at the throat of her tunic, which hangs open as her armor falls away from it. Her clothing is of high quality, with finely woven material and true pure colors, but the fine leather belt is weathered and worn and wrapped twice around her torso and the hilt of the huge sword slung across her back carries the imprint of her hands on its leather wrappings. Even the gleaming banner rising from the back of the saddle has shiny worn spots on its handle, and it takes a second glance to see the dull sheen of the sharp metal hammer that caps it off. Her arms, displayed on her surcoat and her banner, are unusual: azure, a dragon spirant sable in formal heraldry, but the dragon in its spiral has feathered wings like those of a small songbird. The horse, a stallion she calls Candlemark, doesn't make the restless movements common to its kind. It is a blood bay, nearly seventeen hands tall, with long delicate legs and a dish face reminiscent of desert horses. Its leather barding is carefully oiled and her saddlebags bulge with the odds and ends gathered over a long period of travel. Whenever she stops talking her eyes stray occasionally to her companion. HISTORY: The bastard scion of a minor prince and an elven ambassador, Calaera has known intrigue and the struggle for power since her birth. Raised in a half-abandoned old family estate in Ardis, Calaera was content to be ignored by her father, who alternately brought her lovely and indulgent gifts and cursed her half-blood status and the expense necessary to feed and clothe her. She grew up cautious and mistrustful, joyous only in the company of the Qadiran stallion her father gave her in a generous moment. As his generosity waned, however, she began manipulating her life to keep enough money in the coffers to live and support herself. It was this way she met Navene, a young priestess of Pharasma who knew what it was like to feel alone. For a regular fee, Calaera snuck the priestess, who gradually grew to be a friend, into the funerals of the minor nobles and rich merchants who made up the upper echelons of Ardisian society. Navene's fascination with such things seemed silly to Calaera, who didn't see what good prayers could do the already-dead, but she welcomed the company. It was Navene who introduced her to the Professor, who paid her for access to the crumbling archives of the various ancient houses. It was her father's death, though, a few years ago, that provided the catalyst for Calaera to change the course of her life. She was completely unprepared for the crippling weight of grief and love she experienced on seeing his craggy features softened by death, much less for the weight of debt and obligation his lawyers informed her of shortly afterward. As the last of her house, keeping vigil over the mourning period, she finally understood the comfort Navene's prayers could offer. When the debts were settled, she had nothing but her horse, her weapons, and a strange assortment of odds and ends. Profoundly changed by her unexpected sorrow at the death of her indifferent father, Calaera took on the Oath of the Dragon, swearing herself to Navene and her causes as long as they both should live. She has accompanied her ever since, although now they are on more mutual business: the Professor seems to have named both of them in his will. Attachments:
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Post by joviality on Jul 26, 2011 18:04:46 GMT -4
Character:
Navene Dahlanthe Appearance:
This thin but sinewy woman stands tall at 5'11", head held high and confident as she walks alongside her mounted companion. Her hair is jet black and cropped short; it plays about her neck but is kept out of her eyes. The woman's skin is pale - some of the more prominent veins in her neck and hands are clearly visible - and her eyes are not the same color. The right is a brilliant pale blue, while the left is a bright emerald. Her face is set and stern, but it is an air of duty and purpose, not mirthlessness, that surrounds her. She wears a suit of scale mail with azure accents, and around her waist she wears a sash of the same color. A holy symbol dangles around her neck, spiraling in colors of blue and white - indicating that she is a priest of the Lady of Graves. At her side are strapped a morningstar and a dagger, the latter the favored weapon of her deity. She wears a pack and a heavy wooden shield on her back; the shield is also painted with the same hypnotizing spiral pattern as her holy symbol. History:
Navene was an orphan, born to unknown parents who left her at the temple of Pharasma in Ardis. She grew up knowing the clergy of the temple, seeing the day to day passage of life (and frequently death) there. From a young age, she felt a calling to become one of Pharasma's faithful; many of the orphans in the temple felt the faith of the Grey Lady was too dour, but for Navene, it made sense. This faith was coupled with a desire to raise the people of her nation out of the blackness that lay over Ustalav - and this set Navene along a path to combine these two goals. One of Navene's most fervent beliefs taught to her by a priestess of Pharasma is that the suffering that exists in Ustalav is due to the sins of its people. She therefore strains to follow the laws of the land and the tenets of her faith, transgressing upon neither. If she does, even unintentionally, Navene commits herself to hours of prayer and thoughtfulness, hoping to cleanse her soul of the unlawful act. She has done this ever since she was a child, and it comes as though it were second nature. It was one day as a teenager in the temple that a visiting priest performed a ritual which she had never seen before. The priest was invoking a prayer for a dead criminal, yet in the prayer he did not ask forgiveness for the man's sins, but instead asked for the man's sins to be taken into himself. Navene had never seen anything like it. She followed the priest, and watched from afar as he prayed and meditated for a long time. He was asking for repentance for the sins of the dead man as if they were his own! After a while, the priest emerged from his reverie in a serene state - he acted as though he felt absolved and happy. Navene caught up with the man, and spoke of what she had seen - begging his forgiveness for her spying. He looked surprised, but smiled. He introduced himself as Father Fajeous, and told her about what she had seen. It was in this way that Navene learned about the art of sin eating - taking the transgressions of a dead mortal into oneself, and praying for forgiveness on his or her behalf. The concept struck a chord with her, and she began practicing it herself under the priest's guidance. A few years later Navene met Calaera, a young noble in Ardis. Although she originally saw Calaera as a way of getting access to the funerals of the particularly sinful among the nobility of Ardis, she also grew to appreciate Calaera as a friend and confidante. It was the death of Calaera's father, and Navene's serenity in the face of death that cemented their bond, however. The Professor:
Navene met Professor Lorrimor by chance, saving him from a band of street thugs in Ardis and gaining his thanks in return. He offered to purchase her next meal as thanks, and Navene graciously accepted. They chatted and talked about a number of topics, surprisingly connecting over some more esoteric theories about the nature of life, death, undeath, and states in between. When she described the art of sin eating, the professor was particularly fascinated. The professor was in Ardis for reasons other than chatting, however. He was interested in some research that could only be validated by the archives of a noble house in the city - and it was in this way that Navene put him in contact with Calaera. After hearing about his death Navene was saddened, but certain that there was a plan behind Pharasma's choosing to take him to the Boneyard. Though she would have traveled to the funeral regardless to perform her rites, Navene was surprised to receive notice that she and Calaera were also named in his will. She has set out with Calaera to Ravengro to discover the contents of will, and to perform one final act of respect for the man - to take his sins on as her own. Character Sheet
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Post by `Nessa on Jul 29, 2011 19:10:05 GMT -4
Character name: Chouko Appearance: In her orange and yellow silk robes and conical straw hat, Chouko is rather androgynous. She has a pleasant face, black hair tied back in a long, neat braid and very slight build. She stands 5'3" tall and weighs approximately 120 lbs soaking wet. Around her left wrist is a string of 120 stone beads, black in colour with a silver sheen. Curled around her shoulders and usually sleeping is Ping, a red panda she had nurtured in the monastery and that has taken a liking to her company (because she feeds him). She carries a quarter staff and wears simple wooden sandals on her feet. Background: Upon the a mountain in Tian Xia is a temple of monks who believe that the true path to enlightenment lies not in nonviolence, but in a strategic and calculated use of force; balance must be achieved between the physical powers of the body and the spiritual powers of the mind. Enlightenment can only be found within that fleeting, perfect moment when this happens. It was at this temple, at the feet of a statue of the god Irori that a child was found one morning by the new abbot, Iro, and his monks when they entered for their morning meditation. The child, a girl, was sleeping peacefully on the temple floor and no one could explain from whence she came. If this was not remarkable enough, she bore on her shoulder a mark that resembled a butterfly, the very sign that their last abbot had promised to make himself known by in his next incarnation. The girl was taken in and given the name Chouko, “Child of the Butterfly,” and although she was later revealed to not be the reincarnation of the Abbot Roku she did show excellent promise as a monk. And so she began training that would toughen her body and sharpen her mind, heightening her awareness of both. Chouko was a clever student, but her discipline was lacking. When she grew bored, and she often did when her fellow students lagged behind in a lesson, she would become disruptive. It was the arrival of Professor Lorrimor that encouraged her to learn discipline. She would happily sit for hours and listen to the strange man speak of his homeland, of their philosophies and practices, their magic and their monsters. Chouko often went to bed frightened, spent the sleepless night trying to picture these horrors, but would return to his side as soon as she was permitted (and it was soon recognized as a powerful motivator) with eager questions, and he awoke in her a deep fascination with the spirit world. When Lorrimor departed, Chouko threw herself with more intensity into her training so that she might one day be strong enough and wise enough to travel to to Ustalav and experience some of the strange things the professor had told her of. She never dreamed that she would go there to burry him, but here she is: Sent by Abbot Iro, Chouko has made the journey to Ustalav after the abbot had a vision indicating that the man would soon die and she was sent out. She traveled with a caravan that crossed the Crown of the World, down into Varisia through the Land of the Linnorm Kings, arrived just in time for the funeral, to pay respects to a great man on behalf of the monastery. It is her first time away from the monks, and the world is wider, and stranger than she had ever dreamed it to be. Attachments:
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Post by comicsans12pt on Jul 30, 2011 15:57:29 GMT -4
Solaz Fior stands 3’2” tall. Her robe is an exquisite white wool woven in an alternating twill with an oversized hood. There are no seams in her robe. Over her hair she wears a gold silk scarf whose ends cross at her neck and drape halfway down the front of her shoulders. At the tips of each end are beads made from golden gems that seem to contain swirling gold glitter with slight streaks of darker brown. Behind her right ear can be seen the hilt of a sword (scimitar) whose blade rests inside the flawless robe. She has dark brown eyes that hide under deep lids giving her a sleepy appearance. But do not make the mistake of thinking she is unaware of what surrounds her. Her semblance keeps others off guard so that they reveal more than guarded folk would. She is lithe and graceful. Her body has an inherent knowledge of where it is in relation to the rest of the physical universe. What looks as if it came by blessed fate is actually the result of years at swordplay. Sarenrae has called her to honesty, redemption and compassionate dispatch. Taking these as her guideposts, she spends her days in sword (scimitar) practice, prayer and vocation-which in her case is spinning. She uses a top weighted drop spindle which she keeps with her at all times and hangs from her belt when not in use. It is made from a deep red cherrywood that years of lanolin laden wool has polished to a high shine. She sings to herself. Today she is travelling to a foreign place, called by the Last Will and Testament of a man named Petros Lorrimor. Her inclusion in his will was unexpected but somehow not surprising. They met only once. She remembers the event: The coachman lifts the small coffin into the storage area of the wagon which will serve as transport for the two paying travellers. To the coachman Solaz says, “Be careful with that please. She is gone but need not have to abide yet more of the world’s injustices.” Satisfied that her charge is secure for the journey she turns to the second traveller who is addressing her. He is watching his own wooden chest with leather bindings being loaded for the trip. “Yours?” He motions to the tiny coffin. “No. Her parents were too devastated to travel. They want her to rest in their ancestral home. These are tasks which honor Sarenrae, and so we are honored to do them.” “She is young,” again, motioning to the small coffin. “Barely seven moons.” “It does not trouble you to travel with the dead?” Solaz looks at the stranger and with an open laugh says, “only if you are a necromancer.” They alight on to the cart to benches made comfortable for the travel. With a playful, if not slightly conspiratorial look he says, “And if i am?” “Then it would be no burden to pray for your soul. Once committed, i would pray for your redemption until such time as i were sure you no longer needed it.” The talk turned to other things and while the topic did not come up again, it always seemed to be there between the two of them during the journey. She took to praying for his soul. She continues this daily. Now, it seems, he was the one in the coffin and she was journeying to his home. Honesty, redemption and compassionate dispatch. They have served her well thus far. She knows those are all the tools she needs. Attachments:
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Post by Juniper on Jul 31, 2011 12:54:49 GMT -4
Ha...four women and one lonely guy. The Professor was a playa.
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Post by little on Aug 3, 2011 16:25:48 GMT -4
Reto KleiberlanthenHuman Fighter Appearance: Reto is still a young man, but strong as an ox. He stands six feet tall and close to two-hundred pounds. His blonde hair hangs just a little past his shoulders when it's not tied back, and his face is clean shaven. The other thing usually on Reto's face is a smile, as he tends to approach just about any situation with a positive attitude. As if his size wasn't enough to tell you this person might not be someone you want to mess with, the two polearms on his back might be another clue. He still carries a halberd he trained with in his early teens, as well as his favoured guisarme. His studded leather armor is a light tan, semi-bleached from years of exposure, but fits him like a glove. Reto is fond of bright colours for his clothing. His sleeves sticking out from the armor are typically blue, either a rich azure or a lighter, pastel shade. His polearms are adorned with red and blue streamers, and he wears something of a scarf or sash horizontally around his waist, in bright red, just to have something to flow in the breeze behind him, and make himself stand out a little more. Background: Reto Kleiberlanthen doesn't have the tragic tale of upbringing many adventurers have, but then, he's not specifically an adventurer either. Reto was born in the picturesque countryside around the city of Caliphas. Vineyards covered the soft, rolling hills of the area, and the luxury items created flowed into the city. His family wasn't rich, but was by no means poor either. Reto's father worked as a cooper, fashioning barrels to ship wine, perfume and more into Caliphas. Reto's the eldest of three sons and one daughter, learned the craft, but a trip into the city with his father would alter his future path. When Reto was eight, he accompanied his father to Caliphas. He loved the sights and business of the capital. But it was seeing a garrison of guards going through their changing movements that really captured the young boy's imagination. Reto's father told him the guards were strong and brave, and were the men who kept the kingdom safe. That was enough for Reto; he knew what he wanted to do with his life right then and there. Reto went home and spent all his spare time practising with an old broom as a halberd, trying to mimic the movements of the guards. Soon he could out-duel much older boys in his area with a wooden sword. Reto's parents knew he was not going to spend his life making barrels. The sent the boy to a military academy in Caliphas at age twelve. Reto loved the military academy, as well as the city, but it was much different than home in the countryside. Thieves and those with bad intentions were all too plentiful. One day when Reto was thirteen, one of those scoundrels interjected himself into the teen's life. Reto was out in the marketplace when someone yelled, “Stop! Thief!” He turned to see a large man racing through the crowd, and a shopkeeper chasing him down, but losing the race. The large man held a red bag, and was much bigger than anyone else around, at least six-foot, six-inches tall. Two guards tried to stop the suspect, but the large man bowled them over with a lowered shoulder. The big man then used his free hand to snatch another pouch from a slender man in the crowd as he ran by. Reto wasn't going to let him get away. He raced towards the large man, and tripped him up with his halberd! The big man came down with a thud, and quickly found the axe blade of the polearm next to his head. The boy held the large man until more guards came to subdue him, and Reto returned the stolen items to their owners. He didn't say much to the slender man, who was just visiting the city, but did become friends with the shop owner over time, always making a point to stop and say hello when passing by. Five years later, the shopkeeper stopped Reto with some news. He had received news of the death of an acquaintance. Reto offered sympathy, but the shopkeeper told the young soldier there was more. The man was the one who had been visiting the city on the day Reto and the shopkeeper met, following the attempted robbery. Reto had saved some property belonging to this other man as well, and despite being a stranger to Reto, the young man was shocked to learn he had been named in the will! The shopkeeper told Reto his actions at such a young age had left an impression on the Professor, and whenever he visited the shopkeeper in the years after the incident, he always talked of the kid he believed would be the finest soldier in the land one day. The shopkeeper told Reto he had to hurry to arrive in time for the funeral. Still a little bewildered, Reto took a leave from the academy to attend the funeral and headed off to learn just what lasting impact he had made on this “Professor” character. Attachments:
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