Adventures of Caelereth

Archives => The City of Voldar => Topic started by: Kalína Dalá'isyrás on June 07, 2005, 05:22:22 AM

Title: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Kalína Dalá'isyrás on June 07, 2005, 05:22:22 AM
Here you may simply either post your entire CD (prefered) or leave a link so I can use it for reference.

Also post your contact information. The email you wish to be contacted with and an IM if you have one.

Thank you <p><!--EZCODE CENTER START--><div style="text-align:center"><!--EZCODE LINK START--><a href="" target="top"><!--EZCODE IMAGE START--><img src="" style="border:0;"/><!--EZCODE IMAGE END-->[/url]<!--EZCODE LINK END--></div><!--EZCODE CENTER END--><!--EZCODE CENTER START--><div style="text-align:center"><!--EZCODE LINK START--><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:orange;font-size:x-small;">The Santharian Dream</span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> (<!--EZCODE LINK END--> ~ <!--EZCODE LINK START--><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:orange;font-size:x-small;">Role Playing Basics</span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> (<!--EZCODE LINK END-->
<!--EZCODE LINK START--><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:orange;font-size:x-small;">Character Creation Guide</span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> (<!--EZCODE LINK END--> ~ <!--EZCODE LINK START--><!--EZCODE ITALIC START--><!--EZCODE FONT START--><span style="color:orange;font-size:x-small;">Restrictions and Age Calculator</span><!--EZCODE FONT END--><!--EZCODE ITALIC END--> (<!--EZCODE LINK END--></div><!--EZCODE CENTER END--></p>

Title: My Cd
Post by: Takashi Logan on June 09, 2005, 07:09:22 AM
Contact info-
You can expect to find me online in IRC most days.
Takashi Logan

Edited by: Takashi Logan at: 6/9/05 12:17

Title: Re:Damien Scar's CD
Post by: Capher on June 23, 2005, 12:40:22 AM
Name-Damien Scar

Gender- Male
Race- Human
Occupation- Gate Commander of Voldar
Age- 36 Years.
Height- 2 peds

Damien has jet black wavy hair that flows loosely down over his shoulders and his bangs nearly cover his soulless dark black eyes. His skin is swarthy looking, like a deep dark tan. His face and hands are weather and battle scarred. His frame is thin, but well muscled. He wears a chain mail vest under a usually black leather tunic over upon which he wears a light suit of armor that only covers his back and chest. A large leather belt wraps around his waist that holds his mace that hangs from a leather cord hooked to the belt on the left side and an oyster shelled handle dagger, he bought from a merchant of the Avennorian tribe, hidden in a sheath hanging from the belt on the right side. Across his back he carries his favorite weapon, a Sengren, a double bladed axe made especially from his tribe the Kyranians. He wears black leather pants and special made black leather soled boots that allows him to be quite mobile, but near to impossible to hear when he walks. Over all of this he wears a black cloak that pins to his shoulders and hang down to the middle of his thighs.

Damien is extremely loyal, almost to a fault, to Lord Voltigor. He would do what ever is asked of him by his Lord, including lie, cheat, steal, even murder, which he has done on several occasions. He has disdain for those whom he thinks would dishonor his Lord or his Lords ambitions whether they be male or female. He is rough with the ladies but is also pursued by them He gives respect to those whom he has decided deserves it. He demands respect from his subordinates, though he has earned it more by his prowess as an infantry soldier and his more than willingness to die for his Lord if need be. His only main goal in life is one day be counted worthy enough by his Lord to be knighted.

Because he is of Kyranian descent he has a tremendous amount of endurance and strength. It is reported that Kyranian infantry men were the best trained for they were the actual descendants of Cyroan Thromgolin, the infantry lieutenant under Dietych the famous infantry Commander that besieged and brought down the famous Elven empire Fa’a’v’cal’ar. He can run faster and longer than any normal man under any circumstances.

Women are Damien’s downfall; though he has been betrayed and even put in chains by them, he still pursues them. He also rides a horse poorly, as he prefers to walk or run. He has no use for the bow, though he does and can use the crossbow on occasion.

Damien Scar was orphaned at a very young age. He joined the Kyranian infantry at the tender age of twelve, as the Commander’s boy. He watched and learned very well and then, when he was caught several years later with the Commander’s wife, he was sent to be executed. While waiting in the dungeon for his execution at the age of 16 he escaped with the help of the Commander’s wife.

Damien knowing he had a bounty on his head fled south. He lived in various towns, cities and villages living off of his skills but mostly off of rich older women who used him as much as he used them. His travels took him as far south as Marcogg he was 19 years of age when he took up with a rich widow.

Then in his twenty-second year he left that life behind determined to find a place for himself. He found himself eventually in Voldar and was hired as a guard; he was twenty four at the time. The Lord of Voldar at the time, Lord Kalgarius, did not like him, did not even have the decency to talk to him, though Damien tried to serve him as best as he could. But the Commanders at the time made sure he knew his place, besides he would find himself in trouble with one woman or another.

He was just about going to pack and leave when he heard about a man named Voltigor, a nobleman from Nymersys who was coming to wage war with Lord Kalgarius and Voldar. In a midnight meeting he made a pact with Lord Voltigor. The pact was to kill as much of the leaders of the army, councilors and nobles that were loyal to Kalgarius and leave the city almost defenseless for Lord Voltigor’s army.

He did most of the killing himself, though he had help from others he had recruited. The ones he missed he has regretted ever since, and that was the Royal family, especially the sons Talthisus and Maultus, though he did manage to kill Lord Kalgarius and his wife, but not before he had his way with her. (If this part of the history does not bode well, then I will change it.) For his reward in helping Lord Voltigor take the city he was given the title Commander of the Gates.

You can think about it, even plan on it, but do not try it.



Title: Re: Re:Damien Scar's CD
Post by: Darien Gulath on June 23, 2005, 12:56:22 AM
Name: Darién Gulath
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Race: Half/elf
Tribe: Helcrani
Occupation: Assassin
Title: Predator

Darién is highly respected in the underworld working as assassin in criminal organisations.  

Physical: Darién is about 1.8 peds tall. His weight is a little bit less then 2 pygge. His hair colour is black and he has two different  eyes. His left eye is dark-blue and his right eye is light-blue. (The left eye looks brighter with the shade that mostly covers Darién's face)..
A scar is visible; crossing vertically over his right eye. He wears black clothing ( Black pants and a Dark shirt; with his strong muscles naked. He has rags of leather wrapped around the wrists (like a street fighter). And also a black bandana, dancing behind him elegantly in the wind(Bandana endings are about 0.7 ped in length). Darién has something mysterious, but also creepy in his way of behavior (giving people the Shudder's for some reason..) Mostly, his face is covered in shadows from his cloak which he wears in town. Or, once he is active during the night, he has always kind of a dark shade covering his face. His right-eye, which is deformed with the scar, becomes really noticeable. He has kind of a arrogant look in his eyes; like he feels himself your superior. Darién has two swords crossed behind his back which he wears with him wherever he goes.


Darién is a unusually intelligent man for his expertise. He is closed and silent and does not really respect life. His horrible youth combined with his twisted way of thinking made him the way he is now. A freelancer who’s only intension is to complete his job, And to make money.

His social-behaviour lacks, mostly working against him. For he is arrogant, Selfish, greedy and quickly enraged. When he is drunk (He practically lives in Inns) he is even worse; He could kill somebody for only spilling beer on him.

He has a strong will and with that he can accomplish much, He rarely panics and can take care of himself. His intelligence and physical strengths are remarkable for someone like him and he knows to deal with lots of situations. He is always aware of his surroundings; And is quickly awakened when he sleeps( which saved his life more then once!).
He also managed to develop a deep love for the forests (which might be something from his elven-nature?). He can also live alone for weeks; Hunting and entertaining himself in these woods rarely getting lost.


-His physical condition is formidable. He is very healthy and overly alert. Agility and strength combined with a smart intelligence make him a dangerous opponent. He can move with stealth or attack in a raging bold fury. He can be a silent assassin but also a loud-thundering warrior that is able to maim his opponent when necessary.

-He has almost spend his entire live mastering his 2 War-swords. This is in fact his specialty and gives him a advantage against single-handed sword fighters. He has multiple tricks and moves and knows to move both hands separately doing different attacks at the same time. War-swords tend to be heavy swords but Darién has managed to move and curl the blades like feathers. He hes mastered this skill to a formidable level.

-Darién is also a formidable opponent when he is disarmed, He can deliver some heavy punches and kicks and moves with a supreme elegance avoiding his opponents attacks, He doesn’t go easily down; not even when the opponents do succeed to hit him. He is almost like a berserker fuelled by rage and liquor. A skill he gained from countless years of bar-fighting.

-A strange affection for the forests guided him into becoming a good hunter. He has a good memory for tree’s and will not quickly get lost there. He can be completely independent for months which is a useful advantage in his long and lone travels. When his enemy enters his district; He can become even more dangerous then he already is…

-His stubborn mind can be his strength and his weakness. His mind is stronger then his body and is not easily broken. If he sets his mind to something then he will get it done; Even when it is nearly impossible. His stubbornness also guided him through the training together with his lust for revenge which was his motivator for almost his entire live.

-Furthermore his tendencies towards evil and his lack of respect for live also work in his advantage, For his mind is twisted and his ways of thinking or different he has no trouble progressing all of his poor victims (innocent or not) in his conscience.


Mayor physical weakness:
-His eye with the scar has been slightly damaged during his youth and can barely stand the sun. He is almost blind when the sun shines in his eye. He therefore prefers staying out of the bright lights so his enemy’s can-not exploit this weakness. If he is forced to confront his current opponent and there are bright lights; he gets quickly disorientated.

Mayor physical weakness:
-He has an addiction to liquor and is rarely completely sober. It has slightly affected his reflexes and quick mind. And when he reaches his climax and becomes entirely drunk he passes out, looks for trouble or vomits. His enemy’s have less trouble overpowering him and every time he gets drunk he puts his life at heavy risk.

- His social-behaviour lacks, mostly working against him. For he is arrogant, Selfish, greedy and quickly enraged. When he is drunk (He practically lives in Inns) he is even worse.
He is also involved in prostitution, assassination and any other criminal activities increasing his list of enemies. There are not many who can put up with the guy; And often a brave fellow steps up to confront him. For some of the more sophisticated people he is evil reincarnated. The very reason Darién is alive is to create chaos and destruction into the civilized world.

-Bounty hunters are searching, hunting and following him to wherever he goes. With every kill the price on his head grows; resulting in new bounty hunters or brave guards to capture and terminate him. The safest place for him is in the underworld. Hanging around lowlifes and criminals in the dark alleys where the town-guard is to afraid to come. Darién leads his life always on the run.

-His stubborn mind can lead him into situations that his body can not physically handle. He often thinks to high of himself trying to take on to many opponents. Or accepting jobs that are nearly impossible. In some cases it where simple factors of luck that kept him alive.

-He hates mages and any type of magic; His mind is set to record every reasonable event; He calculates it and the outcome makes sense, However with magic it does not. He hates the things that go beyond human comprehension. He does not know what it is that mages are capable of and fears it. He does not accept a job when the target is a magician.

-He looks down upon almost everything. Especially species that are not humanoid. He looks down upon orcs and their kind as if it where dogs resulting into many conflicts. He can keep his temper tough, However he always manages to search conflict if one of the orcs makes a wrong move or gives him wrong feedback.

-Nightmare’s are a part of his fears. Darién has had nightmare’s for as long as he can remember. He doesn’t really remember his “dream” the next morning but he does manage to wake up bathing in sweat, headache’s and sometimes he squeezes his nails in the palms of his hands until it bleeds. The nightmare’s have grown worse and occurred more often the more he aged. The only way to prevent these “nightmare’s” from happening is to fall in sleep as a rock. Usually with the help of some liquor. The nightmare’s also explain his addiction towards liquor.


From Before Darién’s birth.

The Family tree

Darién is told to be a descendant from Drulock, An old and yet long forgotten Arch-mage with tremendous powers, but got killed before he could actually put his full power to any use. However his brethren lived and contained his ancient processions to study for themselves to reach the same magical skill as their father. To unleash a greater evil into the world bend on only one thing; Destruction and chaos. The books where supposed to be originating from the very war of the chosen and the scripts inside where written in another language, And the wielding mage had a whole other magic system, entirely different then that of the Ximaxian ways so a small army of intelligent decipherers and gifted ones where needed to unravel the secrets of these dark arts that where contained within (and sealed from mortal knowledge after Drulock’s death).

The ancient war in where Drulock had played such a powerful role in had not been forgotten,. Drulock was a faithful minion of the Moch’ronn in his time and he was supposed to have brought live back to many of the dead in a devastating battle against the dwarves and was therefore also one of the main battle mage’s during the horrible battles at the aurora fields. Yet Saban received all the credit in the Book of Paths written by Artimidor and Drulock was forgotten by the majority of the historians. In the end it where only his descendants that could keep the legacy of their over-grand-father high.

The family that had originated from Drulock were of course not at all ordinary folk. At first they where a cult with many followers and even in the control of some small towns near Voldar. However their dark arts where quickly noticed by Santhros’s new forming legion and they found themselves exterminated and hunted by the growing army of this new found legion.

In the end; the knowledge to wield their artefacts, The mythical books from the war of the chosen; were lost. And all what remained of the Cult was a mere shadow of the glory and power so many generations ago. Beliefs and prophecies where held high and believed to it’s full extends. Prophecies that where made by powerful seers and minions of Drulock in his time during the Third Sarvonian War.

The cult struggled to survive and it became harder and harder to find serving minions for their beliefs and after yet another disastrous exterminating collapse with the king’s forces; they found most of their members dead. And more importantly;… There where almost no more BlackBloods left (The bloodline was dying!…, And if the bloodlines died;.. So would all the prophecies!).

The Prophecy and the turn of events:

The many prophecies where written in the same language as the mythical books from Drulock and since this language was lost during the extermination of the cult it was passed on from tale to tale for those who where interested (Likely the few “dozens” exile minions of Drulock that still exist up till today). And so the prophecy might not entirely be correct as it is told now…

The prophecy tells us about the birth of a “chosen”, A Dark Lord of Shadows, A disciple of Coór (Strangely the date inputted here is the same date as when Darién is born) who will fulfil a great destiny. The destiny of unleashing the Fourth Sarvonian War, And this time the Chosen one will indeed succeed in unleashing the full reign of Coór into the world, Destroying and annihilating everything that exists up till today. And the BlackBlood families where promised to each have their own seat of power within the newly shaped world.

The cult’s minions believed in Darién as to be their salvation. And as he was born they planted many dark spells and enchantments on him before he was snatched away by Demion; who would be his father for the oncoming fifteen years of his life…

The prophecy was doubted, But Drulock’s most faithful minions believed that their Dark Lord’s faith could no longer be changed. Others tried to retrieve their “destined lord” but did not ever manage to succeed. A long sinister dark adventure played around Darién’s birth, involving betrayal, Death and ancient myths; Strong beliefs that claimed many people’s lives.

More fragments of the Prophecy contained several historical events that actually took place at the exact dates on which they where prophesised. Yet one thing was incorrect, The books of Necromancy that had belonged to Drulock where not in the procession of Darién but in the procession of another BlackBlood member. Jax was the one most “pure-blooded” of his family and had earned the right to use the books for his purpose. Prophecy’s had announced that the “Chosen one” would receive the powerful books; But with the kidnapping prevented Darién from ever touching and reading the books and it would deny his full power of becoming the force of annihilation that he was destined to be.

Jax got caught up in the books and learnt some magnificent spells;.. He showed a promising talent in Necromancy and would eventually start to believe that the Prophecy’s had gone wrong and that Darién had missed his date with destiny; And that faith brought him and his dark artefacts together…

Interesting is that the oldest of the minions believing the prophecy claim that the current prophecy was told wrong and a whole different course would be taken to fulfil the will of Coór. The old scrolls containing “The Shadow Lord’s” prophecy was in the hands of Vanessa. The elfin mother of Darién… And even tough she deciphered and read them; She would take her secrets with her to the grave when she was murdered by Zharock’s men(Darién’s third father-like person was Zharock, the arch-enemy of Demion) the same day that she managed to fully decipher the riddle.…

Becoming The Predator

Darién is a person who lives in the presence. He cares little to nothing about what has happened to him in his long vague troubling history.

Darién was born in the city of Voldar his parents being on some kind of journey passing trough the city. His father was the mighty heroic commander named Demion. And Darién was as a child immediately educated by the best schools money could buy. However an ongoing fete between a criminal leader named Zharock and Darién’s father lead towards the death of Vanessa;.. Darién’s elfin mother. Demion vowed revenge and succeeded in destroying, capturing and killing his new arch-enemy’s troops. However every action asked for a counter-action and Zharock on his turn kidnapped Darién during a bloody ambush on one of Demion’s patrol’s.

Zharock’s force was big and influential. Not only where he and his own men professionals in their line of work, They also harboured strong criminal alliances, And they had a small base of operations hidden in the forests away from busy Milkingrad where they kept slaves to get some work done. They where an organisation based on obtaining illegal money. This was where Darién was taken too around his 15th year, And this was where he had to work. Forced to work against his will. Around this time it was already known how disturbed the little kid had to be, Some say he was driven insane by Demion’s lust for revenge; Other’s say he was driven mad by Zharock’s men where he had to work like a lunatic and never received any reward, but torture instead that was also not uncommon there. Darién already knew the basics of live (To read, Politeness, He was a promising determined kid) and was plunged immediately onto the darker side of the world when his mother died at his young age of 9, Possibly all these events played a role in the shaping of his personality…..

So… He was driven mad and expressed his feelings when he received a whip with a skaugere of his master during the slavery. He grabbed a wooden log and smashed the slave master’s head into a bloody pulp when he was only 18 years old. Broken free; He used his intimidating personality (A feature from his dad- who was quite a character!) to lead a rebellion of slaves that where at that current camp to smash trough the gates into the forest during a bloody combat. Most casualties where on Darién’s side and their freedom didn’t last long. The same day Darién was retrieved by Zharock’s men to eventually get beaten to half death.

Strangely this “act” of him had actually granted Darién the favour of Zharock. Zharock was just like Darién on the same age; Even though the man was raised on a different level he couldn’t help compare his temper with Darién’s including the sheer determination to get “it” done no matter what. Towards the surprise of his own men Darién was kept alive and raised by Zharock as if it where his own sibling. Darién was given some wise lessons and even the privilege to carry a sword and after one year sent to do a job and a strange bound of trust between the criminal leader and Darién was established eventually.

At the age of nineteen he had done nothing else then serve Zharock putting his live at risks every time again. Starting as a decoy to lure enemies into traps building himself all the way up towards leader of a individual raiding group. Darién and Zharock trained together using their 2 handed sword technique’s. A skill where Zharock was a master in; Just like Demion;. Darién’s real father. So after a delay of only 3 years (as a slave) he could start and resume his technique that he once so eagerly practiced with his dad.

His broken spirit was healed when he discovered his new power and he builded an ego of determination and will that could never again be crushed now that he had the favour of the mightiest man he knew. He was introduced into the world of prostitution, liquor, death and criminality. The tactical jobs Darién managed to complete made him grow in respect even more. He became so cocky that he even set out to kill the criminals who had tortured and turmoiled him during his days as a slave. He feared nothing and cared only for the presence; He walked the thin line of almost crushing his trust with Zharock and his own death during the fights that had spared him with luck when he set out to complete his little revenge action.

His memory became as a sponge trough his many alcoholic experiences on rather young age and remembered only what he needed (and wanted) to remember. His passion was fighting with his 2 handed swords which definitely separated him from being just being a “moderate” villain. He also fell in love with one of the slave woman’s (Luciana). And on his 21th he had already over  “one hundred” confirmed kills on his name. He was unstoppable and his respect had grown towards the level of Zharock himself.

However Demion had found out about their base’s whereabouts and set out to destroy the base with a high number of his soldiers. Zharock and Luciana both died during the assault; The very people that mattered most in Darién’s live. So Darién vowed revenge on his turn and he mustered the final remains of the scattered destroyed guild. He kept a speech  so powerful and intimidating and used the criminals loyalty towards Zharock to pay the Commander of the Helcrani a visit that he would never forget. With over 60 men they set out during night under the command of himself to wage a full-front attack on the guards garrison located in the middle of the city. Darién lead his men straight into their own demise. The upper hand was with Darién but when reinforcements from the castle arrived the roles quickly turned. It changed into a massacre for Darién’s force. Darién however had made his way into the garrison, Killing every guard on sight eventually facing up to Demion. Demion immediately recognised his son and tried to talk Darién over in surrendering. He almost succeeded but Darién was then “hit” with a boost of rage and tried to kill Demion for what he had done to him. A fight worthy to be seen was fought at the scene and Demion eventually lost the battle; Dropping on his knees he begged for his live. But cold-blooded Darién beheaded him without any further regrets. Miraculously he escaped from the garrison by jumping trough a window over the rooftops chased by “dozens” of guards to find a horse and retreat into the forests as only survivor of the guild. He extinguished his final rage by murdering his persecutors in the forests one by one. Using his stealth and knowledge ( obtained by a strange love that he always had for the forests) to move unseen and as a ghost in the darkness he achieved to kill more people in a single night then some assassins would do in their entire lives. This was where he had gained his title; The Predator. And he left to never be seen again around the city and villages of Milkingrad. A unbelievable story up to today, And a status of a living “dark” legend had been obtained. Years later Darién’s existence would be faded out of the mind of the scared villagers and the story was no longer believed to a certain degree.

The course of Death:

Darién proven to be a killing machine changed his profession in assassin. The only things in his live where educating his 2 handed sword fighting which he practiced for day and night; Never ceasing to rest and always determined to be better then everybody else. And he proved to be stronger then everybody by a long shot. Using his agile but strong gesture he could make the most incredible moves. And he controlled both swords separately which was insane difficult on it’s own already. He rarely found someone who could truly compete with him in a bloodthirsty duel; And Darién longed for action. He travelled trough middle sarvonia in search for jobs and within 2 years he had managed to build good connections in Voldar…
Darién’s entire live was an struggle to stay alive,… Not only his line of work was dangerous on it’s own,.. There where also authority and angry relatives he killed (who hired bounty hunters and the like) and there where prizes put on his head that could stir up entire towns. But Darién’s high prize and that he didn’t got captured also grew lots of fear in the hearts of his enemy’s and it was here and there believed that Darién couldn’t be killed. That he was in fact a demon sent by Coór or Querprur to decimate the population growth.

Darién,.. a descendant from the Blackblood family line, Who where highly skilled in the arts of Necromancy and they where also seen as Clerics worshipping Coór. The coming of a new order lead by The Predator was prophesised a long time before Darién’s birth by his relative bloodlines, And so a dark aura of yet to be fulfilled prophecy’s always surrounds him.  

2 War swords
A sharp dagger (sometimes more the one).

Mostly a small bag of gold and some liquor.
His processions range from time to time.
He owns a few houses and a inn at the crime district of Voldar, Yet abandoned and left for purposes in the future.

Darién doesn't know of the prophecy, and nobody is going to mention it to him, so it will have no real concequences on how he is played, if anything like the prophecy should want to be used by me (for perhaps a future story) then i will ask the admins permission.

Edited by: Darien Gulath at: 10/5/05 22:10

Title: Grunok's CD
Post by: Grunok the Exile on July 03, 2005, 09:23:22 PM
Hi. Contact at: I am Josephine on msn messenger, but uh... if you can find me, that'd be good. Can talk on it, but haven't sat down and figured out anything else about it yet.

Name: Grunok
Age: 18
Race: Orc
Tribe: Losh-Oc (exiled)
Height: 1.7 Peds
Weight: 2 Pygges, 8 Hebs
Sex: Male
Hair: Black
Eyes: Yellow
Title: Seeker

Overview: Grunok is a young adult Orc. He was cast out of his tribe at the time of his coming of age ceremony four years ago. He has since been wandering Sarvonia "in search of his fortune", so to speak. Needless to say, as a solitary Orc without the backing of his tribe, he has attracted little in the way of positive experiences in his time on the road. His demeanour has therefore become somewhat withdrawn and wary, as the idealistic, outspoken youth becomes the cautious and practical grown Orc.

Appearance: Grunok has greyish-green skin, yellow eyes, and the highly muscled, tall-for-an-Orc build typical of the Losh-Oc. His points of difference are his long hair, unshaven as befits an outcast, and the tattered edges of his ears, where his clan-identifying earrings were ripped from his ears at the time of his banishment.

Since his exile, Grunok has taken on the custom of some of the civilised peoples and has learnt to bathe. This is perhaps not so surprising as it might at first seem, as his Orcish stench lost him one hiding place, and many potential allies before he learnt to control it.

Clothing: Grunok wears typical villager-type clothes, shunning Orc-warrior fashions, for similar reasons to those that led him to bathe. Unfortunately, due to his Orcish bodily configurations, trousers are often too long, sleeves too short, and girth too wee. A certain amount of his aspiration to be accepted by society is driven by this: he longs to be able to commission a tailor to make clothes for him which will not split! At the moment he is wearing a fat man's clothes, so girth is not too much of an issue. He has on trousers which are brown cloth, far too long, haphazardly rolled up at the bottom; a plain, unbleached cotton shirt, the type with lacing in the front, the sleeves of which reach three quarters of the way down his forearm. This was something of a pleasant surprise to Grunok, as usually sleeves are nowhere near as close to his wrist as that. However, although girth through the torso is not a problem with this particular shirt, he is a little worried about the seams on the shoulders: they ride up a bit high, and might give way any day now... He also wears a thick woollen coat of an indeterminate hue- sort of a greyish-greenish brown, the copious pockets of which conceal his two weapons.

Personality: At first meeting Grunok is quiet, suspicious of the motives of anyone who speaks to him. Four years of disappointment and betrayal has left him chary of engaging with anyone, be they Orc or otherwise. Underneath, Grunok still has ideas of integrating with a multicultural society, if not for all Orcs anymore, at least for himself. His frustrated idealism will therefore continue to lead him to meet new people in his search for understanding and frienship. This will be his curse, or his blessing. Anyone who shows him kindness for any length of time is likely to recieve his undying loyalty, regardless of whether the person is good or evil. If they are evil, Grunok has four years of unjustices against him to draw upon, if violence against others needs to be justified. At the moment, he feels misunderstood, perhaps a little victimised, but the optimistic idealist in him is still "running things" on the inside... for now...

Lifestyle: Grunok is wandering from town to town at the moment, having learnt that smaller settlements often see him as a threat. He takes what he can to survive, hoping to soon find a purpose. He lingers in taverns when he can afford a meal, and in shadows when he can't. And as often as he can he bathes.

Strengths: Grunok's main strength is in battle. He was expelled from his tribe at the cusp of his manhood, so he has been taught the way of fighting favoured by his clan, the feared Losh-Oc. He is fast, often using his long arms as a second set of feet, giving him the edge to outrun an enemy. He will run often, preferring this over attacking: he has had a couple of instances where reinforcements nearly overwhelmed him.

Weaknesses: Grunok has no friends. He is an Orc, so this is not really surprising. Unfortunately, even other Orcs will not speak to him. Other Losh Oc will not speak to him because he is an exile, and Orcs from other tribes will not speak to him, because he is Losh-Oc. Poor Grunok! He's a bit thick with social things, too. He is likely to follow where anyone who shows him a bit of kindness leads. He is wary, but once he trusts someone, it will be wholeheartedly. His capacity for deception is fairly non-existent.

Other in-between characteristics: His intelligence is limited, but satisfactory for his needs. He is quick to grasp new things, but when it comes to telling the difference between good people and bad people, or knowing where a certain situation is going... he's got a way to go. He knows no magic, nor will he ever- he has absolutely no aptitude for it. He is also not particularly stealthy, although his ability to sneak has improved somewhat, post bath.

Weapons: In his training he excelled with clubs, maces, axes and the sword, favouring the heavy axe and the blunt weapons. When he was cast out he could take nothing with him, but along the way he has picked up a couple of weapons. He has a woodcutters axe which he found stuck in a block of wood by a farmhouse from which he stole a pie off the windowsill. He also has a heavy studded mace, which he found wrapped in a blanket with a number of other weapons, in the hayloft of a barn he slept in once. It has been four years since Grunok last picked up a sword, and he has never enjoyed using one, nor had any combat experience with one.

Familiar: None. Pish.


Grunok was raised by his mother, first and favourite wife of his father, the tribe's leader. They had many slaves, whom Grunok would sometimes supervise. The slaves were a mixed bunch, some orcs, some other races. One slave, an elderly human man, was Grunok's favourite. He had long ago stopped trying to escape, and had some sort of strange loylaty to the family he served, helping to control other, more rebellious slaves. As such, the man had some freedom, so when Grunok was eight, and he began to talk to Grunok, it was not highly remarkable. He would talk to Grunok only when they were away from the rest of the tribe. The slave talked to Grunok about his, Grunok's, father, and how ruthless and strong he was, and whether Grunok himself would be like that one day. Of course he would, Grunok replied. The slave then talked to him about other things: about the way the other races lived, how they got on together for the benefit of all. These conversations continued for many years. One day the slave asked him again, would he grow up to be like his father? Grunok did not reply.

Meanwhile, Grunok's standing within the tribe was waning. At fourteen and on the cusp of manhood, he was already a truly deadly warrior, but there were fears for his mind. He had been heard voicing heretical ideas. He had said that perhaps the Ashz-Oc were not worthless. Perhaps they might trade with them, rather than pillaging as was their right, given their superiority. That the hated man-lovers, the Volkek-Oshra Orcs might have a good thing going, and that other races might have ideas worth discussing, even imitating.

One night, mere days before Grunok was due to undergo the rite of passage, his father confronted him. Grunok was to stop spreading these disgusting weak-Orc's ideas, or there would be consequences. Grunok ceased to speak of these things in front of his father, who was much relieved. Then, on the day of the manhood rite, a lesser wife of the chieftain came to him, seeking to rise in his favour by bringing news that she had seen Grunok in the company of the old human slave, discussing the relative merits of the trading systems of two of the lesser races.

So it was that instead of undergoing the ritual which would have confirmed him as a warrior of his people, Grunok witnessed his friend and mentor put to death, and was banished. The day that should have been the high point of his existence became instead his eternal shame. Since then Grunok has travelled far from his clan's home in the hills of Oro. At first he was living rough, wandering pathless in his shock and despair. It did not take long, however, before reality intruded and survival became a necessity. He has passed through villages and towns, lone farms and small hamlets, taking what he could without being caught: food, clothes, and shelter in barns. Now, four years later, we find him dispossed, wary, yet still hopeful for friendship, and the acceptance of society.

Title: Calisaid Everglad
Post by: calisaid on July 07, 2005, 07:06:22 AM
I don't have any messangers unfortunatly due to restrictions on my PC :(  
Name Calisaid
Age 28
Sex Male
Race Human, from the helcrani Tribe
Title Wandering Guardian
Height 1.8 Ped
Weight 1.6 Pygees

Calisaid is a traveling defender of the innocent, a graceful fighter who weilds 2 swords. He lives to find the truth behind things and see things right.

Calisaid is 1.8 Ped in height. He is not large, but has the well defined muscle structure of someone who has been traveling (and fighting!) many years. He has dark brown hair, about shoulder length, and wears it down. His hair is a little messy but it is kept clean. Calisaid has a slightly handsome yet mostly plain face with hazel eyes and is clean shaven. (He has been blessed with slow growing facial hair which keeps this easy!) There is a pleasant smile on his face most of the time and he carries himself with an air of dignity.

Calisaid wears a body length, grey/green hooded cloak, which is cut just above the elbow so as to leave his lower arms free. The cloak looks like it has seen better days; although still in a very useable state it is encrusted with dirt around the bottom of the cloak and the sleeves are a little worn on the edges. The cloak is pinned at the front with a simple leather clasp. The clasp is shaped like a campfire and hooks into 2 holes on each side of the cloak which are just below the throat.

Favoring light armour for speed and agility, Calisaid wears a finely crafted chain mail shirt, which is an unusually bright silver color and is crafted tiny, high quality, steel rings. The bottom of the shirt reaches just below his waist and the sleeves come to about half way down his upper arm. They hems are all trimmed with a gold rope pattern. The shirt is lined with deep red wool for warmth and comfort.
On his arms and legs he wears enameled hard leather sleeves and leggings which are a dark brown color. They have had a great deal of use but are kept in good condition and have few scratches. His sleeves and leggings have a thick blue material at the joints. Both the sleeves and leggings fit perfectly.
There are no adornments on either his sleeves or leggings save for a small emblem resembling a campfire which is on his left upper arm and left upper leg.
He is wearing thick leather gloves and riding boots.

Across his back is strapped a long slender sword, about 1.1 Ped in overall length, and at his waist a slightly shorter sword of the same design of about 0.9 Ped. Both these swords, as stated, have the exact same design. They have a light blue shine to them and a single fuller running almost the entire length of the blade. The blades start slightly thinner at the base and taper up to a maximum width of about 5 nailsbredth at 1 palm span from the top of the blade. They then taper to a fine point.
The cross guards are angled slightly towards the point of the sword and are about 2.5 palm spans from tip to tip. The have a rope pattern in the center of each side.
The handles are wrapped with soft black leather straps so as to leave a blue diamond pattern showing from underneath, and the pommel of the swords have solid blue globes on them.
(Heres a picture of the swords for reference )

When not traveling he wears a finely sewn, yet surprisingly durable, blue cotton shirt over his chain mail. The shirt has 10 round gold buttons down the front of it. The sleeves cover his whole arm and are patterned with fine gold leaves around the edges of the cuffs and the collar of the shirt. The bottom hem of the shirt has the same gold pattern but is a little wider in width. The shirt looks like it should be worn by a nobleman and it is surprising it is still in the state it is in judging by the state of his cloak…
He also swaps his worn gloves and boots for more suitable 'formal' boots. These are knee high and made from fine leather. They have the same leafy pattern as his shirt does stitched around the hems.

His swords (as described above) are perfectly balanced and made from an alloy of Mithrilan and steel. They are MUCH harder to dull and retain their shine for MUCH longer than normal swords.
It is unknown who crafted them as they were a gift, but it is obvious from the perfect balance and quality of their construction that whoever it was is a master smith.
And because of the near perfect balance, the swords, once weilded, seem to weigh significantly less than they are.

Aside from the clothes, armour and weapons mentioned above, Calisaid also carries an average sized cloth bag. In this he keeps a few cooking supplies, healing herbs and bandages, some rope, and a variety of other traveling essentials. Atop his bag is tied a rolled up leather sleeping mat and a short hunting bow with a full quiver of arrows.
He has a small dagger on his belt. He uses this for cutting meat and rope etc, its not designed for killing people.
In a small, flat, hidden pocket, sewn to the inside of his cloak (just under his left arm pit), Calisaid keeps his most valuable items; including a variety of small gems he can trade if he becomes short on money.

Calisaid has an outgoing and fun personality, and is very charismatic. Because of this he finds it easy to consider people friends, and for them to consider him one.
He will readily defend what he believes as right but does not make rash decisions until he hears or sees both sides of the story. Calisaid is very passionate about defending the innocent.
Calisaid is a very happy person, seeing joy in all life and always has a positive outlook on things. When insulted or upset (which happens rarely) he goes in a deep moody state.
He wears his heart on his sleeve and so people can always tell when this is.
He is not quick to anger and often prefers to talk things through before resorting to violence, although if an innocent person is at risk he will quickly draw swords and ask questions later.
Calisaid never asks for payment when he does a job, he always does it out of good will. More often than not his clients will give him a gift, which in most cases can be sold for more than he would be paid if he had of requested payment!
Along with the innocent, he will never attack (he may...subdue, if need be) a woman.

Skilled fighter -Calisaid, from years of training and even more years of fighting, is very fast with his dual swords.
He has learned that a well placed hit can be more devastating than a more powerful one.
Many who have seen him fight describe his style as 'graceful' and 'calculated' and he can fight against multiple opponents with relative ease. This makes him a deadly opponent in any fight (provided he has his weapons of course!).
Ambidextrous -Calisaid is ambidextrous and so can fight with the longer of his weapons in either hand though he prefers to use his right hand for the longer weapon and his left hand for the shorter.
Hunter -Also, from his years of traveling he has learned to hunt with above average proficiency, using his short hunting bow, and average herb knowledge.

Lower strength -Calisaid has trained for quick and precise attacks rather than brute force and so he has a lower physical strength than most fighting men. This leaves him at a disadvantage if caught in a brawl and also means that if caught in a weapon lock (for which he has trained to avoid as much as possible!) he can be easily bested.
Light Armour -Because of his focus on dealing large amounts of damage very fast, Calisaid lacks the heavy armour most fighters have. His chain and leather armour will stop most light or glancing attacks, but if hit by a more heavy blow his armour will do little to stop it. He focuses more on not getting hit at all!
First Impression -it is his nature to not attack the innocent or woman, this allows him to be easily manipulated by people (especially woman!) who are able to make him believe they are innocent, in some cases they may not bet... This has led him to many surprise attacks which thankfully he survived due to his quick reflexes.
Train of thought -As stated in his personality, Calisaid is a very happy person. When he gets upset or emotionally hurt however, he tends to loose his train of thought and becomes careless in his fighting. He will rush into things (usually fights) without thinking of the consequences.
Cat allergy -Calisaid is allergic to cats, he always has been. If he inhales a cats fur in he finds it very hard to breath! He has to sit down for fear of passing out. Of course he does not want cats to be nearby if there is a fight brewing!

Calisaid was born as an only child in a small inn in Nyermersys. His father Leloid was a bodyguard to rich merchants, his mother, Lithia, a seamstress. His whole life was on the move, traveling wherever his fathers' job took them.
Leloid loved his small family and protected them with his life, and soon as Calisaid was able to lift a sword, he was trained how to fight, with a huge variety of weapons, so that he too could defend them. Calisaid soon began to show preference to wielding 2 swords, and so his father bought him a basic pair of steel short swords from one of his many clients.

Throughout his childhood, Calisaids' father trained him rigorously, drilling into him the need for innocent people to be defended. His father had a noble spirit, and he never raised a weapon towards an innocent person or a woman. He always told Calisaid to do the same as 'noble men are a dieing race' he said.
His father taught him a fighting style he created himself, which focused on dealing precise and quick blows rather than on brute strength. Calisaid was a fast learner and a talented fighter; he quickly picked it up, and by the age of 17 was equal in skill (though not in experience) to his father.

The next morning, just as the sun rose in the sky, Leloid took Calisaid out of the barn they were kindly offered as a bed for a few nights, located on a farm a days east of Marcogg.
"Well be back shortly honey" Leloid whispered in his beloved wife's ear. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and returned to her sleep.
Calisaid and his father found a tree outside the barn and sat under it.
After a brief pause to admire the sunrise, Leloid turned to Calisaid and said to him
"Son, you've made me so proud over the years. I didn't believe anyone could learn so fast, but you have…and I believe you're ready for your first job with me"
Calisaid didn't know what to say, sure he was skilled with the blade, but was he ready? Being a bodyguard is more difficult than being a normal mercenary. The money was better, but there is so much more risk!
People don't just 'mug' the kind of people they would be protecting, they send whole groups after them, or sometimes just 1 skilled assassin, which often proved more difficult to defend against.
He would have to be on his guard constantly, and for all his training, he wasn't sure if it was enough!
"Are you sure father?" he asked
"I've never been surer of anything in my life son" Leloid said with a large grin of pride across his face.
Calisaid sighed. Wealthy merchants didn't hire his father for his looks, if he said I am ready then I must be.
Calisaid awoke to the sound of muffled talking. It was his father and another man. That must be than man we will be escorting he thought. Calisaid looked out of the door to the barn and saw a large man, who seemed to be swimming in his own clothes. The man was covered in gold jewelry and various other riches.
Wow! Calisaid thought, so this is who ill be escorting for my first mission!
Calisaid walked over to the man standing beside his father and bowed deeply.
The man laughed
"No need for that son!" he said "We are all friends here! My names Rathem Numore, your father tells me this is your first mission?"
"Yes it is Sir Numore…I hope I will please you sir" Calisaid replied politely with a small bow.
"From what your fathers told me, I'm sure you will" Rathem said with a warm smile.
"Well let's get going then shall we" said Leloid "We have to make it to Marcogg before nightfall. We are doing this one for free Calisaid" he added.
From the puzzled look on his sons face Leloid knew he needed to explain.
"It's to teach you some humility son. Doing this for free shows that you are doing it not just for the money, but because you genuinely want to keep your client, in this case Sir Numore, safe."
"Oh well that makes sense" Calisaid replied acceptingly.
With that they turned in the direction of Marcogg and started walking. With no interruptions they should make it there in a full days walk, hopefully find a nice bed for the night and return to Lithia late afternoon the next day.
The trip turned out to be rather eventful after all. As the sun reached its highest point in the sky, the trio entered a small dip in the road where it disappeared between to small hills.
Calisaid saw his father stop and raise his left arm into the air as a signal to do the same.
"This feels like a trap" he said quietly
As soon as the last word left his fathers mouth, Calisaid heard a whistling sound as an arrow shot through the air, just missing his left shoulder
"Get down!" he heard his father cry as he ran towards the archer. "Calisaid! Make sure more don't come from behind!"
Calisaid turned and saw 3 men coming from behind the hill, each wearing hard leather vests and brandishing steel short swords. He noticed Rathem had taken a safe spot on the side of the small hill and was keeping as low as he could.
As Calisaid ran towards the 3 attackers, he smoothly drew both his short swords and the moment he was in range of the first of the 3 he swung his left blade in a sweeping arc, keeping his right blade in defense.
The blade met the first bandit in full force, making a gaping hole in his throat. The attacker fell to the ground lifeless. Without breaking stride Calisaid eyed his next target. The remaining bandits hesitated before both attacking. As they ran towards him from the front, Calisaid sidestepped and spun behind them, each of his blades carrying the momentum from the turn. They met the back of and unlucky bandit, severing his spinal cord and ending his life.
As the final assailant turned to face him, Calisaid noticed his father was fighting the archer who had tried to kill him.
The bandit was closing in again, slowly this time. He now knew that Calisaid was not someone to be taken lightly. The speed at which his comrades died was astounding to say the least, and he was beginning to respect this young man…he still had a job to do however.
Calisaid stood, his right arm extended to almost full length, the tip of his sword aimed at his attacker, and his left arm bent, leaving his sword hilt close to his hip and the blade also aimed at the bandit.
His attacker feinted to the left and Calisaid easily parried his attack. Immediately the bandit swung wide, a clumsy move which left him wide open to an attack.
Calisaid extended his bent arm, driving the blade home into his would be killer.
The last of the ambushers was dead. Rathem and Leloid ran over to Calisaid, looks of awe on their faces and the archer obviously dead.
"How did you do that son?" His father asked with a sound of disbelief in his voice.
"Do what? I killed 3 bandits; they were obviously trying to kill us so I didn't think to…"
"Not WHY son, HOW?" his father interrupted "You killed 3 well armed fighters in the same time I killed that lone archer!"
"Oh" he replied "I just did what you taught me, 'aim to kill' you always said and so I did"
Rathem laughed
"You're are rare find young Calisaid…I have something for you when we get to our destination"
And so they wiped the blood off their weapons before walking the rest of the way to Marcogg.
The rest of the journey was uneventful and they arrived at the inn Rathem was staying in right on time.
At the inn Rathem handed Calisaid a parcel containing the armour he wears today. His chain cuirass, his leather sleeves and leggings, and his travel cloak. All adorned with a campfire, the insignia of Rathem's personal armour crafter.
From that moment on, Calisaid vowed to himself never to ask for money for protecting people. If they wanted to gift him things that was up to them, but he would never again ask for payment.
He gained a lot of experience fighting over the coming years, and soon he and his father were able to alternate between doing a job and staying with Lithia
At the age of 19, Calisaids' father retired so he could spend the rest of his life with his wife. They brought a small farm near the inn Calisaid was born. Leloid had saved a lot during his time a bodyguard and they had a comfortable life.
When Calisaid was 21 his parents passed away. They had a small funeral with some close friends; most of these were Leloids' regular clients. Before she died, Lithia had sewn her son a fine blue shirt. It had gold buttons down the front with her mothers' insignia, a string of leaves, sewn around the hems in gold. Along with this she made him some soft leather boots and gloves for when he wasn't traveling or fighting.
Calisaid had turned 22 and he visited his parent's burial site.
As he was making his waay back to the inn he was staying after some hours of remembering his parents lives, he stopped at a nearby fruit stall to grab a bite to eat.
Out of the corner of his eye, Calisaid noticed movement down the far end of a nearby alley.
I wonder whats going on there? He thought to himself as he began to make his way cautiously to the activity.
As he approaced the scene, it was soon apparent that he turned up just at the right time. 2 thugs had a small boy cornered and were threatening him with some rather vicious looking knifes.
"Come on boy!" one of the thugs said with a raspy voice "Fight us!"
"How about I do?" Calisaid suggested with a slightly mocking tone in his voice.
He casually drew his swords and stood facing the thugs.
The 2 thugs moved Calisaid, their knifes held confidently in front of their bodys, and began to circle him in opposite directions.
The man with the raspy voice lunged foward, a savage blow aimed at Calisaids' chest which was easily parried.
As the other thug attacked, Calisaid stepped back overbalancing his attacker. Calisaid hit the flat of his sword against the back of the clumsy thiefs' knees, causing him to collapse to the ground.
"This isnt worth it" the first thug said with contempt very evident in his voice.
"Lets get outa here...youv'e got some talent there boy" he spat out before running towards the entrance of the alley. The other thug quickly followed, limping slightly, after he dragged himself off the ground.
"Are you ok kid?" Calisaid asked the young boy
"Yes thank you sir...?" the boy replied
"Just Calisaid will do fine" he replied with a smile.
"Well Calisaid, thank you again, but I must be going. My father is expecting me soon"
As the young boy turned, he paused slightly and said with a slight smile.
"I won't forget your kindness Calisaid"
And with that he bowed deeply before running in the direction of the trade quarter of the city.

That next morning as Calisaid was preparing to leave the inn and continue his journey, there came a knock at the door.
Calisaid opened the door and gave a welcoming smile to whoever it was who was outside
A rather well off man of average build, about 1.7 ped in height, stood outside his door. He was wearing deep blue velvet robes and was obviously of noble background. He had a large bundle under his arm.
"Good morning sir Calisaid, I do believe I owe you a favor"
"What do you mean?" Calisaid replied "I've never met you before! and I don't even know your name!"
"My names not important, and yes, you haven't met me, but you HAVE met my son. You see he was in an alley yesterday..."
This was that boys father!
Calisaid hesitated briefly before saying with a deep bow
"Please come in and have a seat sir!" He guestured to a soft seat in the corner of his room.
"It's ok, I have to be going. But I want you to have this."
The nobleman took the cloth bundle he had under his arm and held it out in front of him.
"It was a gift for my son once he turned 18, but he told me what you did for him and suggested I give them to you."
Calisaid reached out and took the bundle. It was very light for its size.
"I can't accept this good sir. I only did what anyone else would do"
The nobles laugh interupted him
"Just take it Calisaid. I've been warned you would do this, but this will be one gift you WILL accept. I don't give these away lightly Calisaid and I would be offended if you did not accept them." he said with a pleasant smile.
Calisaid humbly bowed again.
"Then thank you sir. Your son must mean alot to im sure he does."
The man smiled and bowed deeply.
"Take care Calisaid, I will keep my eye on you. Who knows, I may be in need of your services one day."
And so he turned sharply and left the inn.
Calisaid went over to his bed and laid the bundle down. Slowly he began to unravel the fine velvet cloth which surrounded it.
What was revealed was a pair of swords. They had a blue hue to them and were perfect in design.
As he picked up the larger of the 2, he was astonished to feel how perfectly balanced it was! Once in his hands they seemed to weigh a great deal less than he knew they did and he could tell that these were works of art.

Inwardly Calisaid didn't feel he deserved such fine pieces, but he smiled and uttered a quiet 'Thankyou'.
I've never RP'd like this before so i guess I'll find my style soon ;)  

This is me

Title: Abigails Character Description
Post by: Abigail Nightwatch on July 12, 2005, 03:03:22 AM
Contact Info:

Name: Abigail Nightwatch

Gender: Female

Age: 22 years of age

Race: Human

Tribe: Centoraurian

Occupation: Explorer and Sell Sword for hire

Title: Rover of the Moon

Physical Appearance: Abigail stands a firm 1 ped and 2 fores tall, weighing 1 pygge and 2 hebs of toned muscle. Her skin a light tone of sun kissed from years of traveling and questing. Her toned muscles are set off by her alluring curves and perky backside.

Silky black hair falls elegantly around her soft face and slender neck, cascading off her strong shoulders to just above her shoulder blades. Exotic green eyes pierce the soul and full lips hold ones attention. Her small nose pulls together the warm features of her slender face.

Abigail is often seen donned in traveling apparel and armor typically consisting of flowing fine cotton shirts worn belted rather than tucked, leather breeches, fine dark leather riding boots and sleeveless wool over tunics in the cold weather. In harsher weather Abigail is usually seen under the cowl of a brilliantly woven elven forest cloak, passed down to her by her father.

Though very much the adventurer, Abigail is in fact part of a well off family and does carry with her finer garments such as fine silken chemise of which she wears under expensive maiden dresses and fine leather bodices. Form formal events Abigail will don a sleek cotehardie gown adorned with lace and golden trim to which she will accessorize with expensive jewelry and such.

While traveling or exploring, Abigail tends not to prim herself anymore than a merchant woman might. That is to say that she doesn't bother with make up or dressing her hair up as she would for formal events and the like, but instead can be seen usually with either a single ponytail or at times with her hair let down, falling over the silver circlet she wears that was given to her by her mother.

Personality: Courteous and compassionate, Abigail is a soft-spoken person who reflects her strong sense of independence. She personifies herself as a very capable and competent person, her confidence easy to detect. She is modest and seeks the truth of matters, dedicated and loyal to her causes and her comrades. On the battlefield she is focused yet merciful, never one to commit senseless slaughter. As her family name indicates, Abigail takes it upon herself to defend and watch over those unable to stand up against the wicked and evil that prowl the darkness of night, as has been a tradition of her family for decades.  

Strengths: Abigail is a confident and capable fighter and explorer, having gone through years of training with her father since she was a young girl. She knows her physical and mental limitations and can act accordingly. She is kind and compassionate which makes her very likeable and charismatic. Abigail has a high threshold for pain and possesses a determined spirit.

Weaknesses: Due to the knowledge of her capabilities and limitations, Abigail has been known to push herself past her limits, inadvertently causing herself harm. While not a quitter, when there is a goal she cannot achieve, Abigail has a tendency to get discouraged, which for her, often leads to frustration and finally anger. While she knows full well she cannot do everything, she can become angry with herself for her own limitations.

Another weakness of Abigail’s is that her compassion and mercy can at times get in the way of getting the job done, or even, lead her into being manipulated on the rare occasion. Another weakness one might consider is that her youth was spent confined to one providence, so there is much of other customs and so forth that she is unaware of short of the passerbyers happening through Horth during the horse auctions.

Family: Annabelle Nightwatch- Abigail’s mother (Caltharian)
        Barret Nightwatch- Abigail’s father (Centoraurian)
Abigail is very family oriented and is very big on family tradition. Her father, Barret Nightwatch, spent most of his life as a successful and well-revered adventurer, making the Nightwatch name famous and respected. Abigail wants nothing more than to follow in his footsteps. Soon after she was born, Barret laid down his sword to be with his family and had begun training local militias and warriors to bring steady money into the house. While Barret had amassed plentiful wealth during his years as an adventurer, upon retirement he had just enough to get by for a few years as he had given his wealth back into the communities he helped as well as into his own tribe over the years. As Abigail sets out on her own and her mother, Annabelle lies on her deathbed wrought with an incurable illness, Barret plays on the idea of picking up the sword once more in the hopes of being laid to rest were he belongs, on the battlefield.

History: Born in the city of Horth in the providence of Xaramon, Abigail lived a playful and loving childhood with her mother and father. As a young child her mother taught her how to dye fabrics and make exquisite clothing that they would sell together at the market. Abigail’s father, the great champion Barret Nightwatch, took any time he had free from training troops and warriors to teach Abigail everything he knew. By the time she was a teenager, Abigail was skilled enough that she would assist her father with his training the soldiers and local fighters.

Working side by side the two became well known as one of the best training teams in the area. Despite her helping her father, she continued her own intense training, both by her father and by herself. Through the years she had become intent on following in her fathers footsteps and carrying on the family name and it’s honor and success. As a young adult there had been a brief period where her mother had fallen ill for an extended period of time, Abigail having to set out to find a priest able to cure her ailing mother.

It was on this quest that Abigail had the chance to test her metal and see how all her years of training would pay off. It had been a rough journey with some very perilous moments where Abigail was unsure if she would even make it out alive, yet she had seen that her training did in fact do her well, and when she arrived back home with the priest, she set back out to roam the countryside looking for injustices. In the following three years, Abigail would be found roaming around the Cheniar Foothills as well as the Anghorth Alsea Mountains. During these years she faced many victories as well as her share of defeats. Through it all she kept on and never gave up hope, taking everything in as valuable experience to be applied later, as her father had taught her.

It would be around her 21st birthday when it was revealed to Abigail and her father that the priest they had summoned had in fact been a priest of Queprur pretending to be a priest of Nehtor, as they had believed. The priest of Queprur had masked the illness with temporary good health only to have the disease come back stronger and more lethal later. Now her mother lies on her deathbed with no hope for a cure unless the priest can be tracked down to possibly reverse his wicked spell. Abigail and her father had later learned that the priest of Queprur held a vendetta against Barret for something years ago, but Abigail’s yearning for her mothers good health had allowed her to be manipulated and deceived by the priest.

Now Abigail sets out on her own, leaving the providence she knew for so many years in an attempt to track down the wicked man that has depleted her mothers health as well as to take down any other wicked man that might cross her path along the way. While she does not set out with a vengeance in her heart, she does hold her morals against wicked folk and now looks to hunt them down like dogs.

Weapons: Long sword - Sheathed within the frog hanger of Abigail’s leather double wrap belt hangs an immaculate long sword crafted specially for her by a dwarven friend of her fathers named Kendreng Thunderclap.  The fine craftsmanship of the dwarves is evident at every angle of this blade. Perfectly balanced with a full tang, this immaculate blade with all of its intricate engravings makes it a prized piece of weaponry to own.

Elven Long Bow- The very long bow given to Abigail’s father Barret so many years ago by the elves, gracious for his help, he has since passed it down to his daughter. This finley crafted long bow is so finley made that one would be hard pressed to miss their target.  Intricate runes and designed had been carefully carved into the shaft of this bow, a true work of art to behold.

Belongings:       Long sword
               Elven Long Bow
               Medium Shield
               Half Field Plate Armor
               Dwarven War Helm
               Elven Circlet
               Elven Forest Cloak
               Steel Vambraces
               Nightwatch Family Over tunic
               Various Silken and Cotton Shirts
               Various Leather Breeches
               Riding Boots
               Leather Double Wrap Belt
               Backpack and Various Traveling Equipment
               Fine Gowns and Jewelry
               Fine Undergarments
               Traveling Coinage
               Miscellaneous Items
Familiars: Abigail always travels with her loyal steed Fairfeather, a beautiful black Centoraurian horse. Being from Horth, her father had purchased Fairfeather for her the same year she had begun training. Raised in the Nightwatch household since shortly after birth, Fairfeather has grown alongside Abigail her entire life. Due to their long period of time spent together and because Abigail is half Centoraurian, the two have an inseparable bond and rarely go anywhere separately. Abigail is always reluctant to embark on any quest that she cannot bring Fairfeather on or back from.

Title: Thraz the Mighty
Post by: Thraz the Mighty on July 12, 2005, 02:31:22 AM

Name: Thraz the Mighty
Gender: Male
Age: 102
Race: Dwarf
Tribe: Kurakim
Occupation: Smith
Title: The Axe of Defiance

He has an enormous ego for someone so short and demands that everyone call him Thraz the Mighty. He believes that he can defeat any foe and will fight anyone and anything.

Physical Appearance:
Thraz has an appearance that is typical of most Dwarves. He stands at a mere one ped and one fore and weighs one pygge and two hebs. He weighs much more whenever he is wearing his armor, an extra pygge to be exact. He may be short, but he is also wide with his shoulders measuring four spans across. His arms bulge with muscles developed during his years as a smith. He has short stocky legs that seem inadequate to carry his large frame. His hair is brown like most members of his tribe, and his beard descends in braids to the middle of his stomach. His brown eyes appear to be the color of the earth and often sparkle in merriment. His broad nose covers most of his face, and his nostrils often flare whenever he is angry. His skin has been tanned brown due to the years he has spent wandering above ground.

Thraz would feel naked without his armor. He wears several pieces of armor, and he crafted each one himself. He wears a hauberk of chain mail that fits loosely on his broad frame, its hem extends just beyond his hips and the sleeves reach to the ends of his wrists. His wide leather belt gathers the hauberk around his waist. On top of the hauberk, he wears a steel plate cuirass, and over the sleeves of his hauberk, he wears steel vambraces. He also wears steel gauntlets, and the backs of the gauntlets overlap his vambraces. His thighs are protected by steel plate cuisses that hinge onto his cuirass, and plate mail greaves cover his calves and shins. The first layer of protection for his head is the coif of his hauberk, and the second is a a round steel helm that is a little too large for his head, for it often falls down and covers his eyes. A steel spike that measures one palmspan in length protrudes from the top of his helm, and he has been known to headbutt his foes. His feet are kept warm by soft leather boots. He wears a broad shield across his back, and it even outshines the rest of his armor, for Thraz is often able to see his reflection in it. Underneath his armor, he wears a leather jerkin and pants made of blockcloth. He likes to keep each piece of armor polished, so that they will reflect the sunlight into the eyes of his foes. The armor may weigh him down, but he would not travel without it.

Thraz has a courage that extends beyond his short frame. He will not hesitate to charge into battle against overwhelming odds. He will fight any foe and claims to have defeated drakes and trolls. His only fear is of water, and he considers that to be a healthy fear for any Dwarf to have. The only thing larger than his courage is his ego. He calls himself Thraz the Mighty and demands that everyone else refer to him as Thraz the Mighty as well. Any lack of respect will anger him, for he considers it to be a dire insult to his honor. He considers himself to be honorable and will help anyone that has a need for his axe. His anger is a terrible thing, for in such a rage he will fight anyone who dares to disrespect him. He may be short, but he is incredibly strong.

As long as everyone shows him the proper respect, then he is a jolly fellow. His baritone laughter is often heard at any establishment that he visits. His love of laughter is only surpassed by his love for a good challenge. Instead of running from a troll, he would turn around and challenge the creature to a duel. He is friendly to any traveler that he meets and has an uncanny ability to make new friends. None doubt his steadfast loyalty to his friends, for he will fight to the death so that a friend may live.

-He is very skilled with his fang-axe, having had years of training.
-He wears armor that protects him against the blows of his foes. Every fore of his body except his face is covered with armor.
-He is incredibly strong, from working as a smith for half a century. His blows are immensely powerful.
-He is loyal to the death to any friends that he makes.

-He is very slow when he swings his fang-axe, being weighed down with armor in addition to his own considerable weight for someone that short.
-His friendship is easily earned, and he has made friends with the wrong people in the past.
-He has a natural fear of water and cannot swim at all. He once tried to cross a river while wearing his armor, and this did not end well. He even dared the river to try and drown him. This was before he learned to have a healthy fear of water.
-Due to his weight, he is not agile and cannot dodge the blows of an opponnet.
-His immense ego is another weakness. He will never admit when he is wrong, for he believes that he is always right. This often causes people to perceive him as arrogant, and they would not be wrong.

This is the history that Thraz tells of his life. None other than him know whether or not it is true, but only the foolish believe his fantastical tale.

Thraz was surrounded by the other patrons of the tavern as he grasped a mug of Dwarven ale in one hand and the shaft of his fang-axe in the other. “So you wish to know the history of Thraz the Mighty?” he asked. “I must warn you that it is not a tale for the faint of heart.”

It all started a little over a century ago in the caverns beneath the Prominent Mountains. I was born among the Kurakim Dwarves, and I am proud of my heritage. My clan is the greatest of the Dwarves, for we create the best architecture that can be found upon the world of Caelereth. Also, our skill with axes is legendary.

My father was a great smith, like his father before him. I dreamed of following in their footsteps and becoming the greatest smith that the Kurakim had ever known. I spent my youth working the bellows in both the workshop of my father and that of my grandfather. My father crafted the finest weapons that could penetrate all but the best of armor, and my grandfather made armor that could withstand most weapons. I learned the craft of being a smith from both of them.

At the age of thirty, I set up a shop of my own. Even I will admit that at first I did not possess the skill to create armor and weapons that were equal to that produced by both my sire and grandsire. At first, I crafted simple tools that any miner would need, such as spades, shovels, pickaxes, etc... My greatest desire was to create weapons and armor that would surpass even that made by my father and grandfather.

After fifty years working as a smith, I began to grow restless. I longed to see the world that existed beyond the gates of the Kurakim. I longed for adventure and for the thrill of battle. I spent years crafting both the armor I now wear and this fang-axe.

Thraz paused for a moment to admire his fang-axe. The shaft was beautifully crafted from the wood of a Black Birch and the head was made of the finest steel. It was perfectly balanced and could be wielded in one hand, for its size was akin to that of a broadaxe. He had always kept the blade sharp, so that it could easily sever the necks of his foes. Realizing that his audience wished to hear more, he set down his fang-axe and resumed his tale.

I was now physically prepared, but I still lacked the training to properly wield my fang-axe. I trained under a master until my fang-axe was as light as a feather and I wore my armor like a second skin. I spent over a decade in training, and I barely survived. My trainer was ruthless and eccentric. We practiced with real axes and I nearly lost a limb on several occasions. He taught me to wear armor every waking hour of the day, for an attack could come at any moment. Finally, I was ready to leave my childhood home and seek adventure. I can still remember the last words my father spoke to me as I walked through the gate, “Make me proud, son. If you do nothing else with your life, it will be fine as long as you lived and died with honor.”

It was as I was traveling over the Prominent Mountains that I was confronted by an immense Mountain Troll. The creature towered over me and wielded a club that was several times larger than I was. He swung his club and it caught me square in the chest. I was flung several peds into a boulder and landed on my back. The troll continued to beat me with his club for several minutes until he believed me to be dead. He approached as I laid there waiting for an opportunity to use my axe. He dropped his club and approached me with his tongue hanging out of his foul mouth as though he perceived me to be a delicious meal. His tongue was the first thing I severed with a sweeping arc of my axe. Next, my axe cut through his thick neck as easily as it would have through mere paper. My wonderful armor had protected me from the powerful blows of the creature.

I walked for several more weeks until I came upon a village in the foothills of the Prominent Mountains. My short legs had grown weary of walking, and I sought a merchant who could sell me a pony. I found one and bought Mortil, a beautiful black Landesh mare. It was as I was leaving the village that I was attacked by a Red Drake. The beast swooped down upon me as I rode Mortil, for it perceived the black mare to be a tasty treat. Even though I had only spent a few hours with the pony, I was quite fond of it and would not allow her to become a drake’s next meal. I stood upon her back as she bolted in fright. The drake swooped down and I caught hold of one of its talons with my left hand. I freed my fang-axe with my other hand and sheered off one of the beast’s wings. It began to fall to the ground and I leaped off a moment before it crashed. It turned around and attempted to scorch me with its flame, but I had my shield ready and the flames could not reach me. I approached the drake with my shield before me, and as I got close I stepped to the side in preparation of delivering the killing blow. With one stroke of my mighty axe, I severed the drake’s head and ended its existence in this world. I soothed Mortil and once again set off toward the south.

It was as we, Mortil and I, approached the hills of Oro that we were set upon by ferocious Losh-Oc orcs. The foul creatures had green skin and red eyes, they were the terrors that haunted a child’s nightmares. They wielded an assortment of weapons, including warhammers, clubs, and battleaxes. The sight of the axes infuriated me, for they dared to attack me with inferior weapons! They would soon learn what it meant to face Thraz the Mighty! I slid off the back of my pony as they approached, for I did not wish to risk her in a fight. Also, I had heard several rumors of their delight for horseflesh. The first one approached, wielding an immense warhammer. He struck my helm with every bit of muscle that he possessed, and I could see the shock in his eyes as the head of his warhammer shattered. He was even more shocked as my fang-axe split him from his jaw to his navel. A second one attacked me from behind with a battleaxe, I laughed as the inferior axe failed to make even a dent in my armor. I sent his head flying with one sweep of my axe. The third approached with a spiked club, in an instant the club was lying on the ground still being held by a disembodied hand. The orc stared at the stump that had once been his hand and took off in the opposite direction. His companions followed him as they did not wish to become maimed corpses. I continued in my journey south in search of more adventures and more foes.

Thraz paused once more and seemed to notice the setting sun for the first time. He realized that if he wished to get an early start, then it would be best if he retired early to his room. He got up and bowed to the patrons that had gathered around his table. “I’m sorry, my friends, but it appears as though it is time for me to take my leave. Maybe I will finish this tale in the morning after a good night’s rest.”

Thraz's only weapon is his perfectly balanced fang-axe. He crafted the axe himself, and it has few peers. Thraz wears the fang-axe in his belt on his right side. The shaft of the fang-axe is made from the wood of a Black Birch and the head is made of steel. The head is a gracefully-arced blade balanced by an armor-piercing spike. He wields it in one hand, for it is similar in size to a broadaxe.

Thraz has a leather pack that contains everything he owns. Within the pack are:
-several smithy hammers
-eating knives
-rock spikes
-wire nooses
-a small grindstone, used to sharpen his axe
-a rag and a vial of oil, used to polish his armor
-a small amount of gold

His only familiar is a black Landesh Pony named Mortil. The pony stands almost a fore taller than the Dwarf, measuring one ped and six palmspans in height. The mare has a relaxed manner and will allow anyone to ride her. She is incredibly strong for an animal her size and can easily carry Thraz, including his armor.  

Edited by: Thraz the Mighty at: 7/26/05 15:58

Title: Mac the Slayer
Post by: Mac the Slayer on July 26, 2005, 12:25:22 AM
NAME: Mac Nial


AGE: 40

RACE: Human

TRIBE: Born Remusian, taken in by Erpheronians at age ten


TITLE: Retired Assassin

A skilled assassin grown weary of his trade, he is polite and friendly with a good sense of humor, yet dangerous when provoked. He prefers to live peacefully and enjoy his accumulated wages, yet sometimes that just is not possible...

1.86 peds tall and weighing just under 2 pygge (19 hebs), his short hair and beard, once coal black, are now heavily streaked with gray. Well muscled, his skin is light where not heavily tanned, and he meets your gaze with dark, piercing eyes.

He wears a simple tunic and trousers, usually in dark earthtone shades of brown or olive, with a wide leather belt holding a dagger, and a dark calf length hooded cloak as weather (or discretion) requires. From long habit he does not wear jewelry or anything shiny that could hinder concealment in shadows.

His footwear is the lightweight boots of a horseman, with the right boot holding a second dagger. Occasionally he carries a third dagger of lesser quality in the other boot, but only when expecting trouble. He rarely wears the razorclaw gauntlets except when using the longbow.

Polite and friendly, yet sometimes reserved with strangers, he has a ready sense of humor. He prefers to avoid conflict, but will often defend those weaker than himself and is very dangerous when provoked. While willing to buy a round of drinks, he is somewhat conservative otherwise and does not live extravagantly.

Cunning and even tempered, he has some skill with a dagger and is a master of the longbow. He is also an adequate horseman.

Somewhat past his prime, his reflexes and endurance are no longer those of a young man and this bothers him a bit. He is also fearful of magic, and his refusal to be healed by it makes wounds or illness a more serious threat.

Lacking knowledge of religious customs and beliefs, he sometimes offends folks inadvertently. The most notable occasion happened in a tavern when he overhead a nearby Shendar warrior mention the name "Baveras", and thinking it a drink, ordered one from the barkeeper. His mistake was explained in detail upon being revived with a bucket of water after the warrior had left.

A pair of razor edged R'Unorian daggers, a finely crafted Remusian longbow, a pair of razorclaw gauntlets, and steel tipped arrows. He also owns a third dagger of lesser quality and a hand axe used to cut wood for campfires.

Saddle, bridle, saddlebags, rope, blankets, flint and utensils for camping, extra clothing, and extra bow strings. He also has quite a bit of coin from years of accumulated wages.

His current riding horse is a gentle four year old dun with no special training or abilites.

Petre Nial was dying.

Bitterly thinking of past battles and enemies slain, the old man now lay helpless against this confounded sickness in his chest. And what, he wondered, would become of the youngster who sat beside him?

It was madness to bring the boy along, but he had little choice. All other members of the family had died of an unknown disease four summers ago, the unwanted gift from a traveling peddler. There was simply no one else to care for his grandson, young Mac Nial.

He and the boy had spent many months traveling to reach this land he had heard of. With no specific destination other than south, there had been little reason to hurry. Any season in Southern Sarvonia would be warmer than summertime in Remusiat, where the old man was garrisoned until age and an increasingly persistant cough forced his retirement.

He had hoped a warmer climate would relieve the increasing pain in his chest, enabling him to guide the boy a few more years. And breathing was indeed easier here, or at least it had been before the gurgling sounds started a few days ago. Now he felt like a drowning man.

In his prime, broad shouldered and taller than most, Petre had been among the best archers of the Remusian army. Reduced to a shell of his former self, he had nevertheless taught the boy courage and honor, and most importantly, skill with the longbow. The latter was of much use on their journey, as the old man was now unable to draw his own finely crafted weapon.

The stocky youngster, now ten summers old, was proficient with his lighter bow and acquired food in abundance, mostly in the form of rabbits and squirrels. The lush grass also provided well for the horses, and both had put on weight in the days since their arrival.

As the sun went down, his grandfather's breathing seemed to ease a bit, and though worried by his refusal to eat, the youngster still felt a measure of relief. Piling wood on the fire to keep back the night's chill, he ate a meal of roasted rabbit and made his bed for the night. He lay listening intently to sounds of the old man's breathing until sleep finally overtook him.

The next day was one Mac Nial would never forget.

He awoke shortly after dawn to the sound of horse hooves as two mounted men approached, and had his first good look at Erpheronians. Quickly rising from his blankets, he strung his light bow and nocked an arrow before the men reached the camp, casually holding it in his left hand pointed downward.

The men, one aging with gray hair and a younger with fiery red, smiled as they stopped their horses before the dwindling fire. Mac, upon realizing they were more amused than threatened, smiled in turn at their appraisal. He could open their throats at this distance.

Noticing the boy's smile never reached his dark eyes, both men sobered a bit, somewhat uneasy at his cool indifference. The younger man's eyebrows rose slightly and he spoke softly to the other, "Arloff, that bow is of Remusian design."

Arloff sat very still, a slight chill playing his spine. Every military man in Sarvonia knew of the legendary Remusian archery skill, and some said they were trained from childhood.

The old man had not survived near forty summers in the Erpheronian army for lack of discretion. Nodding politely, he introduced himself and his companion, "Good morning young sir. I am Arloff, and this is my friend Benel. We are hunting wild pigs."

Suspicious of the strangers, Mac replied "There are none in this camp," then ashamed at being disrespectful, he added in a more subdued tone, "I saw tracks of a small herd at yon stream two days ago." He pointed eastward where the stream lay. Then raising his head proudly, he said, "I am Mac Nial," nodding toward the old man, he continued, "That is my grandpapa, Petre Nial. He is a great archer of the Remusian army."

The two men were no longer looking at the boy, but at the old man who might have been resting, except for an unnatural pallor and staring, vacant eyes.

Mac turned, and realizing his grandfather had passed, went to the old man's side and fell to his knees, crying aloud in anguish for a few moments then sobbing quietly. He had recovered from watching his parents and siblings die, for the most part, but only because the old man was there to cling to. Now he was alone among strangers in a strange land, his world devastated.

He went throught the next few weeks in a daze, his heart heavy with loss and despair. The man called Arloff and his wife Elena had compassion on the boy and took him in, pleased to find him respectful and willing to work at assigned chores. Yet it was many months before they saw him smile.

His thick Remusian accent was in stark contrast to the normal Erpheronian speech, and sometimes resulted in ridicule by the village children. He often fought larger boys and was ruthless when attacked, using anything at hand to defend himself. Though beaten badly on occasion, his fierce willingness to fight eventually earned respect and a measure of acceptance. Word spread that he was not to be trifled with, and would at times even defend others.

He gradually became accustomed to his new life, and came to love the kindly old couple who treated him as their own. Arloff took him hunting often, and later taught him to use a dagger, practicing with sticks blackened on one end to leave marks. When his ability began to match the old soldier's, the red haired Benel took over. Eventually the exercises were ending with equal marks on both, and Benel declared himself unable to further the boy's skill. By this time Mac had grown considerably, now taller than Arloff, and often hunted boar with his grandfather's heavy longbow.

In his sixteenth summer, Arloff apprenticed Mac to a blacksmith in a nearby city for four years so he would not be tempted to join the military. The old soldier had sired only two sons, and lost both in the Erpheronian army. He declared he would not lose another.

The old blacksmith was a friend of Arloff's, and while gruff and demanding hard work, he paid a fair wage for the position and let the boy sleep in the loft. He was pleased to find Mac a willing student.

While he never came to love the job, it was satisfying to watch tools and weapons take shape from the raw, hot metal by his hand. The work also kept him in excellent physical condition, yet he just could not see himself living out his days at a forge. The first weapon he made was a simple dagger, and the blacksmith suggested he keep it, knowing his later work would show much improvement when compared to this one.

The one thing he came to dread was creating chain mail. Forming links one by one, it took many hours to complete a piece, and he was never able to match his mentor's speed at the task.

He went home when allowed to spend time with the old couple, and it pained him to see Arloff growing so feeble. It was a sad day indeed when the old man was laid to rest shortly after Mac's nineteenth summer. He received another harsh blow when Elena grieved herself to death a few months later.

After her funeral, a distant cousin laid claim to the small house, so with his apprenticeship unfinished, Mac packed a few belongings on his horse and returned to the city. His most prized possessions were a pair of R'Unorian daggers given him by Arloff, and the finely crafted Remusian longbow of his grandfather.

At twenty one and well past his apprenticeship, he had two days each week free from labor. On one of these, he saw a fellow being beaten by a larger man in an alley and ran toward them, but the attacker fled on seeing the young man approach. Helping the smaller man to his feet, he found himself introduced to Ned Sidaki, a wealthy merchant's son in his mid-twenties.

Ned told his history of conflict with the big man, another merchant's son, who had beaten him on several occasions after Ned mentioned flaws in gems the man had for sale. Glancing sideways at Mac, he hinted that a good price might be paid for his enemy's demise.

Somewhat taken aback, Mac nevertheless found himself a bit curious. He cautiously asked what that price might be, and was stunned to hear an amount exceeding four months wages as a blacksmith. Shaking his head, he declined the offer. Shrugging the incident off, Ned insisted on buying drinks at the local inn, and in the weeks that followed they became good friends.

A few months later, Ned came by the blacksmith shop bruised and limping from yet another beating. He fairly pleaded with Mac for help, and this time openly offered a higher price for the big man's death.

Angered at the continual mistreatment of his friend, Mac went in search of the big man and located him later that evening in a tavern near the edge of the city. Leaning on the bar beside him, he ordered a drink and made a general remark to the barkeeper about cowards.

The big man stared at him for a moment, then as recognition dawned, angrily pulled a knife from his belt and loudly began to curse and threaten, no doubt expecting to cower the younger man with such a display. Mac simply pulled his dagger and pierced the big man's heart without a word.

Seeing what had happened, the tavern owner declared it a clear case of self defense and several witnesses agreed. Anticipating no trouble, Mac paid for his unfinished drink and left.

Upon hearing the news, Ned happily insisted Mac take the fee offered, and suggested there were others who might pay for such a service as well. Thus began his newly acquired profession, but with it came with an immediate problem...

He quickly learned one did not lightly kill a wealthy merchant's son, whether well liked or not. Dragged before local authorities the next day, he narrowly escaped severe punishment and likely death itself. In the end, the tavern owner's dogged insistence of self defense was all that saved him. The other witnesses had conveniently lost all memory of the incident, no doubt paid off by the dead man's family. It was a frightening lesson, but one well learned.

With a pouch full of coin, he was in no rush to continue this business without careful planning. So after many weeks of thought, he offered Ned a proposition of his own.

He required an agent, he told Ned, someone who could negotiate with clients yet remain isolated from the actual deed. Likewise, his identity as an assassin would remain unknown to all but themselves. This offer appealed to Ned, and a fair commission was agreed upon, along with a few simple rules. Mac refused to kill decent men for hire, nor would he take the life of women or children.

For a few months he continued at the blacksmith shop to avoid suspicion, and began practicing with the longbow every evening, honing his already accomplished skill. It would be the weapon of choice for his new found craft, giving a considerable advantage of distance and stealth over other weapons. Of course the daggers would always be close at hand...

As years went by he grew more adept at his craft, but near his twenty seventh summer Ned approached with disappointing news. Apologetically stating he would be taking over his aging father's merchant business soon, Ned said he just would not be able to deal with Mac's clients any longer. They had discussed this possibility beforehand, and between them developed a bold plan for Mac to continue his trade, since there was no one else he deemed trustworthy as Ned.

For several weeks he traveled with the merchant, meeting contacts Ned had made and learning where best to seek others. Their plan was for Mac to become his own agent, taking Ned's place as middleman for an unknown assassin. His use of the longbow gave merit to this idea, as he worked at night from a distance and had never been suspect. In addition, he always used an unmarked arrow for the task, the others being marked for confirming kills when hunting, and had little fear of association with the crime even if questioned.

The plan worked amazingly well, as Mac was neither arrogant or boasting, and with his ready sense of humor did not even appear to be dangerous. So his life continued, most of his time being spent traveling, visiting in taverns, and in his never ending practice with the longbow.

He was thirty when he met Decilia and was smitten at first sight, helpless as a Tarep rabbit before a Shingar. She was a willowy dark haired Erpheronian widow of twenty six summers who had no children and worked as cleaning maid for the inn where he lodged. Being very shy, many days passed before she replied more than "yes m'lord" and "no m'lord", but finally she opened up a bit and they began having a midday meal together. A few months later they were sweethearts, and he was ever so happy the day she became his wife.

Their life was total bliss for two years, and Decilia was carrying their first child when once again tragedy struck. One of three brothers of the merchant's son he killed, had recognized him sitting with his wife on the porch of the inn. Hatred was in the man's heart, and being of the same temperament as his deceased brother, he wanted revenge in the worst manner possible. That manner presented itself later in the day when Mac kissed his wife goodbye and left, stating he had business to attend.

The man waited until Decilia rose, then followed her up the stairs, walking as if he would pass her in the narrow hallway. As she stopped and opened the door he shoved her inside, and choking her to the floor, broke her neck before she could make a sound.

Glancing around the room, he saw nothing of great value and turned toward the door to leave, only to find Mac standing ashen faced in the entrance, holding a small bunch of flowers with which he hoped to surprise his love.

An agonizing scream was heard by those outside just before the corpse crashed through a partially open window and landed in the street below, its head almost severed by a razor sharp R'Unorian dagger...

It was weeks before Mac regained the urge to live again, his hair and beard shaggy and unkempt, and his room reeking of alcohol. He awoke one day and ordered bath water brought in. While a maid filled the tub, he shakily trimmed his hair and beard, then bathed when she left. Trembling from the effects of steady drinking, he went downstairs to the tavern and ordered his first decent meal in many days.

It took three weeks before his nerves and strength were recovered, and yet another week practicing with the longbow before he physically felt like himself again.

Soon after, a wealthy old merchant in the city was found outside his home with a slashed throat. His two remaining sons were lying nearby, an unmarked arrow in the heart of each.

It was months before Mac smiled and much longer before he actually laughed out loud, yet they say time heals all wounds, and he came to accept his fate as best he could. Having lost all those he had loved, however, he would never allow himself more than friendship again.

And so it came to pass, as his thirty ninth summer approached, he found himself in possession of more coin than he would likely live to spend since it was not his nature to live extravagantly. He decided to inform contacts and clients alike of the unknown assassin's death.

Now retired, Mac is free to travel anytime and anywhere, and spends much of his time hunting, visiting taverns, and traveling from one village or city to the next as whim dictates. Only one persistent activity remains, that of practicing with the Remusian longbow which once belonged to his grandfather.

~ Mac the Slayer ~

Edited by: Mac the Slayer at: 7/25/05 16:26

Title: Re: Haliy Anescences
Post by: Haliy Anescences on August 06, 2005, 12:32:22 PM
Well my repost of my character hasn't been totally approved but I figure it be done pretty fast since there is very little change and I was all ready titled ^-^

Name : Haliy Anescences

Age: 194

Birthday: The tenth of Sálari'herín

Gender: Male

Race: Elf

Tribe: Maeverhim

Occupation: Guardian of the faith

Title: Avásh'aellasiór


Haliy the mystic of the natural world and retainer of the greater balance. Haliy is known for his lust for adventure, exploration, his soft-spoken kind nature and the odd breeze always flowing around him.


Haliy is an oddity amongst the Maeverhim at two peds and two palmspans tall with a lean build at one pygge and eight hebs. His skin is a pale off-white tone. His long silver hair reaches to the bottom of his back. Haliy face holds his most unique features, his eye’s opal with a blast of silver around his pupil and his birthmark a six sided snowflake upon his forehead. Another notable feature is Haliys white nails, which he trims to two and half nailsbreadth and fails to a sharp point.


Haliys wears long baggy silver silk pants, and a long sleeved silver silk tunic, both of which have thousands of long silk appendages with blue tips. Around his waist Haliys wears a long silver flap of cloth on which are the four runes of the elements Air, fire, water, earth surrounding the larger rune of Grothar. Haliys also carries a long silver cloak with even more appendages or wings as Haliys calls them.


Haliys is a kind and soft-spoken man, who usually resides deep in thought. He’s also known throughout the tribe for his unique style of thinking symbolic, incredible deep, and his oneness with the greater good. He also is very inquisitive and full of spunk when his shyness isn’t an issue. Haliys is friendly and kind hearted, but he’s shy and overly reserved until he gets to know someone. Haliys like his kin has a dangerous temper, but usually he bottles his frustration and hostility. To release some of these emotions he sings to the unseen winds.

Druidic skills:

~~ Fog, Haliy can take the moisture within the air and ground and create fogs that even the keenest eyes could not see a dragon in front of them.

~~ Vortex, Summoning the primal spirits and moldig the very essences of the air Haliy can create anything from a dust devil to small twister.

~~Wind, Haliy can almost at will summon the four winds, of course without concentration these winds come in the form of gentle breezes, while with concentration they can be formable force.

~~ Freezing Rain, Haliy can turn the moisture of the rain into a freezing rain, which can and usually does slow down any foe and even can cause minor damage, when the freezing rain becomes Hail.

~~ Leviation, Communing with the primal spirits haliy can take within himself the very spirits of the air, ligthing his body enough to seemlessly float through the air.


Though the powers come from the primal essences and will there is only so much Haliy can do, after each communing or altering Haliy endurance slowly or hastefully starts to demise, and while Haliy is within the trance that allows him to do these things he has little (simple alterations) awareness of his surroundings to major alterations, which he has no awareness of whats happening around him. When over doing it, Haliy simply collapses, there is only so much that he can do.


a) Faith, Haliys is devotion to Grothar the God of the wind and weather is unquestioned, this gives him hope, and strong personal beliefs.

b) Intuition, Haliys is intuitive too almost a psychic extent

c) Haliys is one with the natural world, so he is very in tuned with primal spirits and world itself.

d) Endurance, Haliy has a high mental endurance.


a) Naive, Haliys has never left the Sharadon forest so he knows little of the outside world and its culture.

b) His temper, Haliys once his buttons are pushed is just like a berserker, and has little to no control over his actions.

c) Physical strength, Haliys lacks any major muscle, and lacks in long hauls where his physical endurance is put to the test.

d) Overing doing it, Haliy is infamous for going beyond his limiation when for a greater good, which usually puts him in very dangerous situations. Since they usually make him unconscious.


Haliys was born to the High Priest Ma`oren, born with a six sided snowflake upon his forehead his father thought this to be a sign of Grothar so before Haliys could really speak well his father began his training in the clerical arts. Ma`oren Began to notice that Haliys wasn’t like other boys his age, he seemed more aware, more locked within his own mind. Rarely did Haliys show any emotion unless he was alone, then he seems to glow and carry a conversation with things Ma`oren could not see, but could feel there. He knew Haliys was a special boy, not just from the strange wind always eddying around him but his whole out look on life. Haliys possessed a wisdom far beyond even his own understanding especially his powers. Ma`oren noticed these powers did not come from prayer or Grothar but from pure will and alteration of what was already there. Recognizing these powers as Druidic, Haliys father sent him to live with and study under the druidess Ce’lesti`a who lived on the outskirts of the Sharadon forest.

For the next hundred and fifty years of his life Haliy was drilled lesson after lesson , sunrise to sunset on the different methods of molding air and altering the weather. Another of Ce’lesti`a more challenging lessons took place when she invited other druids over browns, greys, greens, even blue druids and they would have a relatively safe sparing matches, and afterwards the visitors would teach Haliy little bits of there Druidic orders history . One day Ce’lesti`a noticed that Haliy could see and commuicate with the primal essences or as they are more commonly known spirits of the wind and planet itself. Seeing this She knew Haliy would grow into a powerful druid, so she took the last couple of years teaching him of the greater balance, this was one of Haliy greatest challenges learning of the greater balance and how it must be upheld at all cost even his own life. With that last lesson Haliys was finished with his training under her and Ce’lesti`a gave him the title ‘Avásh'aellasiór` or wind singer, and told him that his hardest lesson was yet to be learned, the lesson known as life.

So Haliy returned to his hometown, and knew he needed a job, and since he was deeply devoted to Grothar Haliy asked his father for a job amongst the temple. Ma`oren gave him a job as guardian of the faith, so for the next eleven years of his life Haliy stood as guard of the temple Grothar. During this time Haliy tried to mingle with other Maeverhim his age since he never really had any friends other then Ce’lesti`a and his fellow druids, but he was rejected because of his extreme fading gene and his strange wind which always flowed around him. But a chance relationship did develop with Avona Avani daughter and messenger of the Ronn. Daily Avona delivered messages to the priest of Grothar from her father so she and Haliy developed a close relationship. Over time they fell in love and one day before work Haliy meet her near their groove ( the moons tear groove ) deep in the Sharadon, they embraced, and before Haliy released her from his grasp he asked her to marry him, of course she knew this was coming because Haliy had been acting awkward for weeks about something she just didn’t know. So she said yes, and they planed to tell their families this news tonight after Haliy left the temple. So Haliy kissed her and told her he loved her and left the moon’s tear and went to work. Little did he know there were others there watching them, mere minutes after he left a group of dark elves took Avona hostage. Later that fateful night he heard some commotion, and started to ready himself to defend the temple when he saw Avona, at daggers point, the man holding her said " move and your future wife dies" So Haliy just stood there, the last thing he remembered before being knocked unconscious was Avona and the Horn of resounding being taken into the darkness of the Sharadon forest.

The next day Haliy awoke in his bed and found his father and the Ronn of the tribe at his side, he got up and asked of Avona, but they both just shook their heads. Haliy then begged them to let him go out after Avona captors to both regain his pride, save the love of his life, and retrieve the horn of resounding a priceless artifact to that belonged to the temple. Both of them agreed to this mostly on personal reasons but none the less they gave Haliy permission to leave the Sharadon and become EARTH BURNED without the consequence of being shunned by his tribe to save Avona and the horn. To help in his journey his father gave him the families heirloom the Ellicry staff. With that Haliy set out on his quest to save the woman of his dreams and the horn of resounding.

Haliy eventually caught up with the dark elves that broke that took his future wife, knowing that he was heavily out numbered Haliy molded the overcast sky into a severe storm, though it was most rain and wind, it gave him the moisture he needed to create a thick unseeable fog, which let him sneak into the enemy encampment and free Avona. Haliy first asked her why she was so unguarded, and she told him that the group broke in two just in case anyone was to follow them, and that a majority of the force was with the Horn, while five where with her. Hearing this Haliy hushed her, and they left the camp, apparently the thugs didn't release untill after the second major storm with ligthning and strong winds had passed that Avona was gone. A few days later Avona was safely within the Sharadon and resting with Haliy by her side, when the Ronn appoarched him and in his thanks gave him a charm of Grothar a glass tear drop with the rune So’ava`sh encased in it. He then proceded to tell Haliy that he didn't have to go out and find the horn, that it could be replaced. But Haliy would hear nothing of this, for his own honor and for honor of his family Haliy had to retrieve the horn of resounding. The Ronn could not argue with him, and told him that he would not be shunned for being earthburned, and he was proud to know that his future son was such an honorable man.When Avona awoke a few days later, she found Haliy still by her side, the same spot he was when she fell into her deep sleep, after couple hour of talking she told Haliy that she wanted to go with him and find the horn, but he refused to endangered her on his personal quest to regain his honor and the relic of Grothar. Haliy then told her that if he hadn't returned to Sharadon in five years to move on with her life, though she argued and argued Haliy along with Ronn concieved her it was for her own good. With that Haliy left the Sharadon and it has been two years since his last visit home, and the only real clues he has to the whereabouts of the horn is that it was a northern sarvonia tribe of dark elves that spoke of the Hovel Frond Forest were involved with the stealing of horn.


The Ellicry, a white wood staff, with a spiral shaped design at its head which when swung through the air creates high-pitched sound that paralyzes anyone with its reach for a few minutes, allowing its wielder to escape a fight. The Ellicry history states that its unbreakable, and heirloom passed down the Anescences line since the beginning of the age of awakening Haliy also carries a small simple dagger.


Haliy carries with him two sacks on which contains fruits, berries, nuts, roots and other herbs for healing purposes. The other sack contains a few gold pieces, silver pieces, copper pieces, paper, some writing utensils. Haliy also carries a small wooden tube, in which carries thousands of small needles.


Aeolos, an Efér'veván or a Haloen bird. Haliy found Aeolos as he calls him on the grounds of the Sharadon nearly dead, and he nursed him back to life since then Aeolos and Haliy have been companions on the road of life.

The wind, the wandering wind, Of the golden summer days. Whence is the thrilling magic Of its tunes amongst the leaves? or, is it from the waters, Or from the long, tall grasses? Or is it from the hollow rocks which its breaths through
Haliy Anescences

Edited by: Haliy Anescences at: 8/11/05 0:10

Title: Re: Xanth
Post by: Xanth the Dreamer on August 09, 2005, 03:02:22 AM
My email is  

"He who wanders is not always lost"   - J.R.R. Tolkien

Xanth the Dreamer

Title: CD
Post by: Kabu Shanbog on August 26, 2005, 05:25:22 AM
Kabu Shanbog
Half-troll, half-human
Tribes (parental origins): Father- Forest Troll, Mother- Caltherian
Birthday: Unknown- celebrates every beginning of the new year
Age: 64
Height: 2 peds, 2 fore
Weight: 3 pygge
Occupation: Mercenary, ex-pit fighter
Title Bounty Hunter

Appearance: The mix of the bloods from human and troll created a strange mix of features. Kabu at first glance looks like a very tall, heavily muscle, man with an over large bulbous nose. His skin is light-brown in color, a shade lighter than milk chocolate. A second glance would reveal the details of his inhuman half. From out of his hair poke elongated pointy ears, each about 2 palmspans in length. If one looked closer they would notice very dark green specks over his body, and two small tusks curling out of his mouth. His light grey, greasy hair, almost 2 peds long, is separated into many small braids. Those braids then make one large braid descending down his back. His eyes are light blue with flecks of ruby red radiation out from pupils of the same color. Often people find his gaze frightening. His facial features, nose and tusks aside, are not too bad. A broad face with a slight goatee and prominent jawline. He has a very animated mouth with thin slightly browned lips. Above his eyes are large bushy eyebrows both being black in color. Situated on the right side of his fore head is a burn scar left by a brand. The scar is the shape of an eye with a line cutting across it diagonally. His hands had short claws in the place of fingernails.

He usually is dressed in a light brown sleeveless tunic made with leather about two nailsbreadths thick with baggy grey leather trousers. The trousers and tunics are covered with interlocking lines pressed into the leather. The trousers themselves are filled with small pouches sewn on the inside. Each pouch contains some Kabu’s money, valuables, or medical supplies. On the out side of the trousers are holes that are covered with flaps, which lead to the pouces on the inside He wears a hat with a large brim to keep the sun off him. On his back is strapped a large steel war hammer called Vadus that he used in the old days as a pit fighter. In colder climates he usually wears a black leather coat that reaches down to his ankles and is lined with sawis fleece, as well as a scarf wrapped around his face also made of sawis fleece. The half man also sometimes wears leather gauntlets that reach his elbows and covered over the tops with steel sheets.

       His body is covered with scars, most of them being points created by arrows implanting in his flesh with some slashes from swords added in for good measure. The majority of them appear on his front. Kabu brags that this is because he never runs from a fight. Also running around one wrist up the outside of that arm, separating into two segments, running across his chest and back, reattaching into one segment, running down the other arm on the outside, and wrapping around that wrist is a tattoo made up of interlocking knots of roots. The tattoo is colored dark brown with pieces of grey and green added in. He also has many rings pierced through his ears. Each ring represented a win when he was in the pits. They range from copper for normal victories, silver for exciting, and gold for multiple enemies. He has a total of 156 rings of different metals, each one stamped with a different representation of the defeated fighter or fighters. He does not wear all of them at once, putting the unused ones in a pouch on the inside of his pants. Usually he wears 50 to 60 rings at one time. Around his neck is a rusty iron collar with a short length of chain, 2 nailsbreadths over 2 palmspans in length, still attached to the hoop. Sometimes he is seen smoking a pipe, onately carved in the shape of a dragon with the smoke coming out of its mouth and the tail ending in the mouth piece.

History: He was conceived from a human woman who was raped by his troll father during a raid on a village near the Goltherlon Forest. When he was born he was tossed out into the forest to die, but he was founded by a small band of trolls and was taken in by them. For 15 years he lived among his people, teased for his small size, slight form, and ugly features, at least for a troll. One day when he was finding wood for the fires, he heard a large commotion coming from the cave. He ran back and arrived in time to see his comrades being slaughtered before him by a band of human mercenaries sent to wipe out some of the “troublesome” trolls. He drop all the wood he collected except for a large log that he used to cave in one of the mercs’ head. He was immediately after knock unconscious by the leader of the band.

The leader, a man named Herten the Scarred Eye, was fasinated by this creature that looked like a troll, but not like one. He prevented his men from killing it and took it to find out more about the strange beast. When Kabu awoke in the tent of Herten, he tried to attack the man seated across the room from him. Immediately he found himself on his back again with a sword within a nailsbreadth of his right eye. Herten then calmly explained using the troll language that Herten had taken the half troll captive and would decide his fate later, but he wanted to hear the story behind this strange being. Kabu thought of his chances of defeating this man that still held the sword near to his face. They were less then bad so he nodded as best he could and was allowed up. Kabu then told what he knew about himself. Herten sat in his chair and look at the being in front of him. He finally stood and walked around the rigidly standing form of Kabu.

Herten finished his circle and nodded. He told the half human that he liked him and saw a lot of raw potential. He told the half blood that Kabu would become his bodyguard and slave fighter. Kabu could only nod, fearing that if he tried to run he would be killed before he finished his first step.

Over the next 25 years of his life he lived as the slave of the Scarred eye. He was taught to read, write, and speak the human languages as well as some rudimentary mathematics so he would not be ‘accidentally’ cheated out of Herten’s winnings at the pit fights when Kabu was sent to get them. Kabu trained as a pit fighter, to be sent into battle with and/or against others slaves for the amusement and profit of their respective masters.

After this time he was released from his slavery and given a placement in Herten’s mercenary group. He was branded with the group’s symbol of the Scarred Eye. For 14 more years he fought alongside the men who taught him all the things he knew.

During this time, the Scarred Eye spent sometime stationed at Voldar. While there Kabu spent sometime with a woman resident of the city. When the mercenary company left Kabu said his goodbyes and left without a second thought. Two years later he returned to find that the woman he had spent his time with had died and had left him a two year old daughter. Confused beyond all reason, Kabu went to Herten. After hearing the half-troll's story, Herten told Kabu to bring his daughter along with the company. So Kabu's daughter who was named Belphe joined the Scarred Eye for a time.

Ten years later the Scarred Eye had just escaped from an especially disastris campaign. Kabu felt really fear for his Belphe and decided he had to take her somewhere safe. Returning to Voldar Kabu spoke to the owner of Arth's Spot and convinced him to take care of Belphe. In a tearful good bye Kabu said farewell to his daughter, promising to visit from time to time. He has kept this promise and is pretty well known in Voldar now.

Eventually Herten passed on from a disease that caused his body to wither away. Before he died he called Kabu to him. When the half troll arrived, he found Herten propped up, a shell of his former self. The bed ridden man asked Kabus to come over. When the half man was standing over him, Herten told Kabu of the life he lead.

Kabu was surprised how similar his life was to Herten, who was sold into slavery as a child and was bought by another mercenary leader and eventually served in the mercenary company of that leader until he died. Herten finished the story by telling Kabu that he had come to care for the half blood like his own son and he wanted Kabu to leave the mercenary company and seek his own life and purpose. He told Kabu that he would be given Herten’s tent, half of the treasure Herten had collected, and Herten’s own sword, Longarm. Kabu was amazed. This man, his “father” and master, was giving him many things and he was very grateful. He stayed by the dying man’s side until the dawn broke and Herten whispered “It was good” and passed on into the next world.

Kabu dressed his “father” in his armor and, with the assistance of other members of the mercenary company, carried his father to the pit they had dug and filled with wood. They laid him there and lit the pyre. When the fire finally died, they buried the remains. After the funeral, they decided that the company would disband and each man would find his own way. Kabu took his things and the items his “father” had left him. In addition he bought a bull and cow from the small herd of Baneg cattle at the farm they had camoed near. He then loaded them with the supplies and went to find his own way. The last thing any of the mercs heard as he left was the statement he whispered to the wind, “It will be good.”

Personality: Very gruff around any beings, coming off as a bit of an idiot. He appears to have a poor grasp of the human language and will often resort to sign language to get his point across. This a ploy used to hide the intelligent brain in that partly-human head. The mix of bloods allowed him to have a human intelligence and the abilities of a troll. Kabu often will switch back and forth between sounding like an idiot to sounding like a well bred gentleman. This is a mind game that he likes to play with people who think that his heritage makes him less then intelligent as he is less then human.

He keeps a distance from most persons he associates with, partly because of his strange appearance. The only people who truly know him are the few mercs he opens up to and children. He has a strange soft spot for any child he meets, stopping and playing their games with them or helping them if their hurt. He is also kind to females of elven or human descent, even coming to their defense if they are being threatened.

Abilities: Kabu’s mix of blood causes some very strange changes in his natural abilities, mainly his regeneration ability and weakness to sun. Kabu is less affected by the sun then his brethren. It only causes him discomfort when being directly exposed to it for long lengths of time. His movements also become sluggish during these times.

The trade off for the lose of this weakness is that the troll’s amazing ability to heal is reduced. Deep cuts and broken arms still take less time to heal, a few hours for a cut and two days for a broken arm. But lost limbs cannot be regrown except for fingers and toes, unless the removed limb was placed against the stump immediately after being severed.. Also his skin is not as tough as a trolls. It still takes a lot to wound him but not as much effort as is needed with a full blood troll.

Kabu avoids doing any magic after he tried to use a simple spell to light a fire. It knocked him unconscious for a half a day. He inherited the troll’s weakness with magic. He has a grudging respect for any magic users.

Equipment: Kabu leads a mated pair of Baneg cattle, the bull named Heth and the cow named Bena. These creatures serve as beasts of burden, and income and food in the form calves and milk. They are both the same greenish tan color and are very strong from carrying all the equipment.

The baggage on the backs of the animals usually is a folded up tent with five poles of wood and eight spikes, rolled up carpets to line the ground, bedroll and blankets, several days worth of dried rations, some changes of clothes as well as winter clothing, small bags of jewelry, gemstones, and chunks of precious metals, a large bag of Hobbitweed, writing materials with sleeves of paper that he uses to keep track of his kills, and any confiscated equipment of beings he had fought. All of these things are placed in large bags that are strapped on the cows backs two bags per cow, except the poles of wood which get strapped straight on the back.

Weapon: A large steel war hammer that weighs about 5 hebs. Kabu can wield it one or two handed. This is one of his favorite weapons, it having survived with him since the days that he was in the pit fights. He named it Vadus, after the first person killed by it.

A steel claymore given to him by Herten. Named Longarm, it reached about a 2 peds in length. Though it was meant to be wielded two handed, Kabu can easily wield it with one hand. It has been repaired numerous times and it obviously had seen many battles.

An iron cudgel, when Kabu loses Vadus in battle he brings this into play as a bludgeoning weapon.

A pair of Nekode Claws (A weapon of four blades attached to a hilt where the hilt would be grasped in a fist and the blades would poke out of the space between the fingers.). If he loses all his weapons, Kabu will use these to rip his enemies to pieces.

Finally, he has the natural claws that grow out of his fingers.

Strengths: Troll Blood: Kabu gains some of the troll’s ability to heal, the natural armor, and has the claws that grow out his fingers. See Abilites section for more info.

Close Combat Master- Growing up as a pit fighter and then mercenary as trained Kabu in many forms of close combat. He has reached the state where his abilities appear almost magical in nature.

Emotionless In Battle- Kabu’s face becomes completely devoid of emotion. He hardly ever speaks when he is in that state, the only change in appearance is that when he receives a deep slash, breaks a bone, or is pierced by an arrow. His face usually twitches into a snarl for a second. Other then that he is emotionless, a state caused by the constant fighting in his life. It is very disconcerting for any opponent.

Well hidden intelligence- Kabu is very intelligent. He easily figured out that his appearance made people think otherwise. So he decided to play the part of the large stupid half troll. This causes many people to underestimate him and make mistakes that cost them a lot, usually their head. He is also fond of challenging people to card or board games and taking them for everything they have.

Why Is He Not Stopping? - From his constant fights and the fact he walks everywhere has caused his endurance to reach huge proportions. He once ran four days straight traveling about six furlays. After that he slept for one night and was refreshed. So any being that fights him in hopes of winning by tiring him out will be in for a surprise when they end up on the floor gasping for breath and Kabu is standing upright, dabbing the slight amount of perspiration away with a cloth.

It May Be Night, But I Can Still See You- Has infrared vision gained from his troll ancestry. It gives his eyes the red pupils and can be switched on and off at will. He can see the warm being given off by living beings. The downside is anything that was dead does not show up, and fires tend to cancel it out.

Weaknesses: Diluted blood- The abilities he gained from his ancestry has been reduced because of his half blood status. Explained in Abilities section.

Sensitive to Sunlight- Explained in Abilities Section

Can’t Hit The Broad Side Of A Barn- Because of his complete training being only in close combat, Kabu is an idiot when it comes to using a bow. The closest he comes to a long range weapon is a rock thrown at his enemies.

Weak Around Women- The half troll grew up without many women around, so he in very nervous when he gains the attention of any woman of human or elf lineage. He tends to believe that all women are glass dolls that need to be protected. Often he has to have the point to otherwise beaten into his head.

Frightening Appearance- Kabu is a giant of a man covered with scars. He has tusk growing out of his mouth. His pupils are glowing red. These features make him frightening to normal people and he has a hard time not scaring them into bringing out the torches and pitchforks.

Loves A Good Smoke- Has a love of the Hobbitweed and will go to great lengths to get some when he runs out.

Contact info-

Those who are skilled in combat do not become angered, Those who are skilled at winning do not become afraid, Thus the wise win before the fight, while the ignorant fight to win."

Edited by: Kabu Shanbog at: 9/6/05 3:24

Title: Re: CD
Post by: Ishmaelion on September 05, 2005, 08:13:22 AM
contact: , I'll be on MSN at least ones per day, so feel free to chat.

Name: Ishmaelion Shi’gén
Gender: male
Age: 54
Race: human
Tribe: Erpheronian
Occupation: Philosopher, Doompreacher
Title: Philosopher

Physical appearance
Being 1 Peds, 2 Fores and 1 Palmspan high makes Ishmaelion one of the smaller people in his tribe, where men usually become bigger. He has always been mocked by other for his lack of muscles and you might even describe him as skinny. He walks slightly hunched as if the weight of all mankind rests on his shoulders (although if that were true then he would be smitten to the ground, never to arise again, so lets keep to poetic freedom, shall we). Ishmaelion is often described as extremely clumsy. His hair is the same dark red color which is so characteristically of his tribe. However, when traveling through other parts of Sarvonia this is regarded as otherworldly or just downright ugly. Rumors were amassed by those people which I will address later in the history section. Despite being a philosopher, Ishmaelion doesn’t have a beard because he thinks that if you have a beard all your ideas do not escape via your mouth (words) but escape out of your chin (hair). He has gray eyes, not unusual about them. One odd thing about him though are his feet. They are huge, and when I say huge I don’t mean like in Giants huge, but somewhere around 1 fore. Because he can’t find any proper sandals anywhere he almost always walks barefoot.

Ishmaelion wears a brown worn-out robe which is far too large for him. He often drapes the hood far over his face so you can only see his mouth. One can clearly note that this robe is very cheap and therefor Ishmaelion is often thought of to be one of the lower class. He is never seen taking his robe of, so what might lie beneath it remains one of his greatest mysteries (although you can ask yourself if you truly want to know).

Well, you could say that Ishmaelion has an interesting personality. After proclaiming himself philosopher after having lived in the local library for two years (literally) he has taken upon him the task of showing the other people in Santharia that he IS an true philosopher and will miss no opportunity to break into a lecture about the elements or other truly worthless subjects. He never speaks in normal sentences but weaves a web of words and proclamations in which he eventually says what he wanted to say (if you’re lucky). Some call him arrogant, some call him mad, some even call him Pete, but that are all superficial taunts directed at this great and brilliant man in envy! One of his favorite subjects of preaching is the end of the world. If the conversation is starting to lead in that direction you should decide if you want to hear the lecture soon or you’ll be caught in the conversation. He will follow those who either say that they believe him or those who contest his facts and theories.
He has a great disdain for orcs, gnomes, goblins, trolls, brownies, elves and humans. Oh, I forgot the dwarfs, he doesn’t like them either. But he believes that everyone/thing can be saved if he\she\it embraces the truth of Ishmaelions words. He believes it is his sacred duty to bring those creatures to the truth.

Strengths and Weaknesses

- Ishmaelion Shi’gén can preach and debate like few can, it is therefor often that his enemies find themselves debating instead of fighting while Ishmaelion questions their goal in live, aspirations and ambitions. His low powerful voice forces respect on others and he can make himself look very intelligent and mighty indeed.
- Much combined with his other strengths is his ability to have his cane in his hand when a few seconds ago there was only air. He has a walking cane which he keeps in a secret pocket in his robe whenever he isn’t using the cane for matters as walking and such. He is swift with this cane, and it happens often that he smacks his enemies on the head while debating with them. “curing them of their warmongering thoughts” he calls it.
- Ishmaelion’s big feet protect from almost all spells and winds which try to blow him of his feet. He has a good sense of balance.

- Ishmaelion Shi’gén can preach and debate like few can, it is therefor that he will grab any opportunity to start a discussion. In the past, this has served him not always in a positive way, insulting some high placed officials and starting many a tavernbrawl.
- While good with his cane, if his favorite walking stick is taken from him, he is completely harmless. He couldn’t even squat a fly without his cane. Not that he loses any of his potency with his tongue though.
- His big feet are a curse when sneaking though bushes or trying to be very silent, as his clumsiness makes sure that he trips and falls occasionally. It is impossible for him to remain in the shadows and not be seen by others. (except if the other is a blind deaf mute dog named Pogo)

Born in a small village near Voldar the history of Ishmaelion is very hazy until his adulthood as Ishmaelion was smacked on his head several times in a brawl and can’t remember much about his childhood. From records of his village it is shown that Ishmaelion was always mocked by the other children in his village for his lack of muscles and fighting spirit. After the brawl he was accused of having killed the bard who was singing there, although the charge did not ring true as the accuser was the bard himself but the elders of the village decided that Ishmaelion was a menace to society even so and wanted to toss him in prison for two years. Not wanting that to happen Ishmaelion bribed his guards and hid himself in the library. After three days in the library he was discovered by a strange being, namely, the dog Pogo. This dog brought Ishmaelion a share of his food and what he was able to catch in the library. Pogo was the guard-dog of the library.Water was provided by the dog as well, well, Ishmaelion drank from Pogo's waterbowl. This enable Ishmaelion to remain there for some two years in which he did some reading (he lived in a library after all) and one can say that this changed him a bit. When Ishmaelion was found he didn’t stop murmuring about elements and gods and such. He was brought before the elders again and this time he was accused for escaping and bribing the guards, which was the same as insulting the elders which in turn was the same as blasphemy. For this great crime he was banned from the village and after having had a farewell speech that lasted a full morning he was of into the outer world. In the years that followed Ishmaelion lived as a hermit in the woods of Vardynn, not seeing a living soul in ten years. When he came out of the forest he had a cane with him and still wore the robe that was given to him when he left the village. He later claimed that while he was in the forest he was visited by the benevolent god Seyella and sent out to spread her truth, which was only taught to him. He started preaching in villages and cities and not before long city gates would be shut when he arrived and villages wouldn’t allow him anymore. He became known as Shi’gén after he was rescued by an elven hunting party while he was captured by a rather hungry pack of wolves who were about to have Ishmaelion for lunch. So the elves called him Shi’gén (flavorful) and this name he has carried with him in his countless journeys. After having escaped his own hanging again for insulting the leading elder of one village he did not show his profile that often and covered his head with his robe whenever he entered a town lest he be recognized. Having to fend of a lot of disbelievers he soon became proficient in the use of his cane as a mortal weapon and made a hidden pocket in his robe where he keeps his cane hidden from sight if he hasn’t no use of it. Having seen much of the world during his travels, not much holds a surprise to Ishmaelion any more, as he thinks that earthly things are no match for the power of the mind. But he has a dislike for magic because he isn’t any good at it. So he dismisses it as unnecessary.
This history will be elaborated often, but for now, this is a good notion of his history.

When reading this paragraph, one should keep in mind that Ishmaelion was knocked on the head several times in his past, and some think there is a connection between his ideas and that incident, although he himself claims to be visited by Seyella herself. The goddess had told him, so he claims, stories about the end of the world and also of the world and it’s truths. Ishmaelion preaches the word of Armageddon, which is summarized below.

“And thence forth will cometh the true beings, the reflection undone by the mirrored truth! In their benevolent wisdom, thee will all be vanquished and will no long remain unseen by the unseer! No, the unseeing eye will be opened to the reflection of dreams which are cast by the contramirrored beasts of DOOM!”
This is the beginning of the ‘litany of Armageddon’, written down by Ishmaelion himself. The story is full of riddles and metaphors but one can easily understand the outline of it: the fall of all that we know. Some returning factors are the unseer and the notion of reflection. Some say that the unseer is the sleeping Avá and that the reflection is the real world, outside the Dream. This explanation leaves some holes in it, like Who are the true beings? And how can they come to our world? And who are the Beasts of Doom? Maybe a dream within a dream? And how does one mirror the truth? Would that be lies? If you delve deeper in the text all will not be much clearer as shows the next extract from the second chapter, near the end:
“Oh, thee, who in returning to thee, will be crushed by the unguarding light, in which the twelve are born and torn. The unseer will wreak vengeance upon the twelve, dissident from their truth, seen by first house, deafened by the thunder of the second house, slaughtered in the wake of the third house, loved by the fourth house, played upon by the fifth house, drowned by the waves of the sixth house, blessed to unbeing by the passive seventh house, withheld from the mirrored heavens by the eighth house, cultivated by the ninth house, murdered by the dark tenth house, bandaged by the serving eleventh house, and from the twelfth house will come the inferno!”
The twelve is probably a vague reference to the twelve minor gods, although not much is known about their supposed role when the One (Avá) awakens. The litany of Armageddon ends with these words: “When will this happen? Well, it happened countless times already in the mind of the unseeing one, being bereft of speech and sight, passive until the history repeats itself, and this day will come soon!”

The world

“The world is not what I thought of it”
- Ishmaelion -

The elemental theory:
According to Ishmaelion, the most important part of the world is the elemental section. He distinguishes four kinds: Earth, Wind, Fire and Water. He believes these elements are everywhere, even within persons. How does this work? You ask yourselves, well let me explain:
It is off course clear that water consists of a lot of water elements, and earth full of earth elements, etc. But in persons this is more subtle. The amount of elements is determined by birth, and does not change in live. Everyone has a mix of all elements. The amounts of them varies, altering one’s character. If you have a lot of earth elements in comparison to the other elements, you grow up to be a sturdy man, who is not easily angered or otherwise emotionally shaken, but once aggravated is the most persistent of al persons in the finishing of that particular matter. If one has a lot of fire elements in him, he will grow up to be a short-tempered person, often flaring out in sudden bursts of rage or other emotional outings. In the case of an abundance of water elements, one is tranquil, preferring peace and calmth over struggle and conflict. Often seeking to compromise and relegating matters. If bestowed with a lot of air elements, one is fluent in the matters of speech and mind. Often appearing smarter and wiser than they truly are.
Next update soon!

His cane, named Pogo, after the dog, is his only weapon (not counting his mind). There is not much special about the cane, it’s just a wooden cane.

His sharp humor.


Title: Re: CD
Post by: ratdragon on September 14, 2005, 05:37:22 AM

Link in my sig.

Beware the BladeSinger of the Silver Sword.


Title: Re: CD
Post by: Tythle Fi thea on September 24, 2005, 03:16:22 AM
my CD:Tythle Fi thea

My contact info:

Title: Re: CD
Post by: Aueniteri on November 07, 2005, 06:47:22 AM
MSNIM: chucky(underscore)schwarz(at)yahoo(period)com
(Yes, that's for MSNIM, not Y!IM. Also my standard email address.)
AIM: JacobSFreeman
And for those who need help with the characters in parentheses above, _ @ .




¾ elven

29 yrs(actual age)

After her father's murder, Aueniteri adpoted the title Crusader, due to her vow to eliminate all thieves and assassins from Caelereth.

A bard by profession, Aueniteri, when not hiding or defending herself, entertains to small audiences for what few coins she does possess.

Haunted by her brother's crimes, Aueniteri, or 'Teri as she generally refers to herself, spends her time fleeing or defending herself from the various low-lifes that inhabit Southern Sarvonia. A gentle girl, plagued by frequent bouts of nervousness due to the battles she is forced to fight.

Aueniteri stands at  1 Ped, 2 Fores, her youthful countenance sporting thin, slightly elongated face, high, somewhat flat-ish cheeks.

Her figure is not highly pronounced, the bust a definite yet light ripple from her otherwise nearly blade-straight form. This appearance, however, may be intentional, as it seems to change drastically, and at her will, as she dances. A choice accentuation either way is her knee-length forest-brown hair and bright green eyes.
Her attire is drastically different pending two kinds of activity. When traveling, or expecting to travel, she dons a loose-fitting leather vest over spun pants and blouse. Over that, she usually, although not always wears a steel breastplate. Boots reaching nearly up to her knees and her hair braided tightly and tucked beneath her vest finish the look.

When not expecting to travel, she wears a long dress, a collar covering just the bottom of her neck, the sleeves coming to just shy of her wrists, and a skirt falling roughly mid-way down her ankles. The dress tightens in front with a pair of laces through carefully sewn couplets, actually a jacket attached as part of her dress, from a palmspan above her navel clear up to just below her collar. Either barefoot or in open, silent sandals and her hair brushed, clean and free, and she is ready to become again what Garrek has tried to take from her.

Pyschological :
Shy, although not reclusive; frightens easily, tends to trust those she considers friends without reservation, cyinical, especially when with an unfamiliar group, almost instantly suspecting every shady-looking person of being an assassin sent by her brother to kill her. Prone to nervous spells, particularly after battles, but also triggered at times by the attention of large crowds. Tender, polite, and well-mannered. Although trained in martial-style fencing, prefers to take any and all possible approaches to avoid a confrontation, except possibly where a friend's well-being is concerned. Has a deep hatred against thieves and assassins, even to the point of prejudice.

Aueniteri's three most notable strengths are firstly, her prowess with song and dance. At times, she will fully entrance an audience of the unaware, inebriated and/or simple-minded.

She is extremely agile and dexterous, allowing her to react to nearly anything she is aware of, even to, at her best, possibly dodging an arrow after it is fired.

Her martial style with her longsword is not to be underestimated, either. Best one-on-one, she twice defeated her former trainer, when he in all earnestness informed her she would not be.

Aueniteri possesses little physical strength, particularly for an elf.

Her gentle nature shows through easily, and with stress, she tends to undergo a nervous break-down, some times remianing unconsoled for days.

Among her greatest weakness is her psychological necessity for a protector, and at times when one seems to appear, she will attach herself easily to them. The same is with allies of any kind, whom she quickly misconstrues as friends.

Aside from this, though, she sees most any person of a darker nature that she may happen to cross as a hunter, whose sole purpose is her own destruction. This paranoia is definitely one of her greatest weaknesses.

In a fight, she has a problem trying to focus on more than one enemy at a time. This problem is compounded to its fullest whether there are two opponents against her or some unspecified mass of enemies. Combating any number of opponents greater than one at a time is severely problematic for her.

Aueniteri's history begins with her ancestry, particularly her grandfather, one Dinik Driel. Dinik was a son of a poor farmer from a long line of poor farmers; his mother, however, was the daughter of a not-so-poor Eyelian merchant. His mother took special interest in her youngest son, Dinik, and taught him much about financial maintenance, so that by the time he was twenty, he possessed what, in his neighborhood, could be considered a small fortune. Dinik was a hard worker, and any leisure time he might have had was spent focused on how to make more money. Then presented itself to him the idea of a lumber farm.

Wood was not truly scarce, but Dinik knew that to make it even more accessible, and with finer types of wood, would make him a fortune beyond his wildest dreams. Time and again, he petitioned the Yllferhim elves for a tiny plot on the borders of their beloved Quallian to begin his dream of a lumber farm, and time and again he was coldly refused. Then he tried the Zeiphyr, testing the Quaelhoirhim for several years, with roughly the same success. Many a time he tried even underhanded methods to achieve his dreams, but each time they failed.

Finally, at the age of forty, he succeded and under a heavy supervision of the elves, took his first lumber farm, and plotted it out in a section where he knew the trees would grow well. The first harvest was ready, and nearly again he lost his business when the harvest was made, but true to his promise, he replanted everything that was cut down. His plots, eventually, broke down into a set of three plots, each in a different season of growth.

His first and second sales were a success, but he would see no more. His adventures in the Quallian had worn hard on his small, fragile body, and at sixty, he failed, and died. His only son, through the daughter of one of his elven partners, named Sean, took control of the business, but his taste in it waned.

Not having his father's passion in favor of the lumber farm, Sean Driel passed on the farm to sub-contractors, keeping a large portion of the proceeds for himself, and took to the sale of elven arts. These brought the frugal Sean even more income, and soon his resources were nearly inexhaustible.

He bore two children, a son, named his heir, and a daughter. Garrek, in honor of the human bloodline, and Aueniteri, the name given by her mother's father. Garrek, although the chosen heir, seemed to have other things in mind.

Aueniteri was a charming, intelligent and innocent child. Wanting her to have and be the best, Sean filled her days with learning of all kinds, and she could soon fluently speak several languages from across Santharia, dance like the flowers in a summer breeze, sing, both by voice and with her violin, to melt a heart of stone, sketch a scene as though it were straight from reality, and fence adequately with even the guards of Dinik's mansion.

A dark scheming seemed to overtake Sean's heir, and several times he was imprisoned for involvement in some crime. Then, the indictments ceased, but Garrek grew ever darker. Sean said nothing of it to anyone, except Garrek himself, that he had renamed the heir, and it was to be Aueniteri. Knowing this, Garrek struck into action.

Aueniteri turned 23, and a large celebration was had at the mansion Dinik had created. This celebration was to last three days, the first with the extended family, the second with the closer family, and finally, the last day would be to Sean, his wife, Garrek, and Aueniteri alone. Great feasts and festivities were had, and most, if not all, of the relatives and business partners left the first day feeling pleased to know Sean. The second day was a little les gleeful, and a bit more intimate. The third night, although planned, never took place.

Garrek had ill planned for them, and his blackened heart carried it into effect without the least cringe of remorse. At roughly midnight, during a change of guards, a horde of assassins overtook the place, plundering and vandalizing everything they touched. Aueniteri, who had been unable to sleep and was caught wandering the mansion, was dragged up to her room, and thrown in front of a trunk at the foot of her once-lovely and well-kept bed, which had been torn to pieces in their rabid search for any kind of treasure. On her way, she witnessed a good portion of the death of her father, who had been outnumbered and bludgeoned to death. She could hear her mother's screams and wails as with a trembling hand, she opened the trunk. In it, two things of marked value lay. One, a necklace given her by her grandmother, who was still in elven terms a blossoming woman. The other, her longsword. She tossed the nearest thief her necklace, and as he reached out to catch it, she brought the pommel of her sword deftly into his groin. He buckled, laying on the floor before her, and in an instant she was on her feet.

With a quick step, she stood on the groveling man, and from there leaped onto the back of another, forcing him down as she did so. Her next move was to make her way to her father. Reaching his corpse, she slashed at one of his murderers, tearing a huge gash from his left shoulder almost down to his right hip, deep enough to reveal the spine. Oozing and spewing blood, the man fell. Without hesitation, she shoved the murderer's corpse away, and for a second shed tears over her father's mutilated figure. Then, knowing they would not be stunned forever, she took from him a pendant, and his longsword.

Then, as she stood, the mob came from their shock and sprung into action. Three of them grabbed her from behind, and several closed in on her. Struggling was futile, and she was certain she, too, would die. However, fate would not have her that day, and she, through some strange providence, was knocked unconscious and hidden under some shrubbery in the mansion's garden. When she awoke, human soldiers from the same Eyelian outpost as the mansion's guards and their familiars were scouring the place, and among them her brother Garrek, looking genuinely worried. She could have swore a dark quizzical look stole across his face when he first spotted her, but it was gone in an instant, and he was poring over his "poor, yet fortunate sister."

The story was one of all too great conveniences. The soldiers arrived just in time to frighten away or kill all the assassins, though none were captured alive. Frequently Garrek told relatives the tale, and as frequently Aueniteri watched in horror and surprise as each of them offered their condolences and support to the supposedly grieving Garrek.

Things grew continuously worse, as together the two of them alone occupied the mansion. The tension rose to such extremes that often Aueniteri would break into tears, but Garrek kept a face of stone. Never would he say a word of the death of their parents directly to her; never did she dare breathe a mention of it in his presence. The tension was to culminate in her breaking eventually, but providence again asserted its hand in her behalf, and her grandmother sent for her. Willing to go, she took everything she could find that was still of use, and petitioned her grandmother for replacement of those things that were ruined.

The party that came for her were not well armed, as they expected no danger. Offering as presents the items she had requested, gladly she moved with them. It was late on the third night of travel that suddenly a realization of Garrek's plan struck her. He had allowed some of the assassins to survive, and now they were sent to finish everything they had started. Her eyes clouded with tears, she quickly gathered her things that night, as everyone slept, or at least as she supposed, and feld.

Everyone had not slept, though. The leader of the camp had called for a guard, and the guard called for her as she ran. This awoke others, but the next thing she heard of them was the one set to guard screaming in pain. The tale was told in the next elven village she passed, how everyone in the camp had been killed, maimed beyond recognition, and had been spotted by a patrol only a few hours after the massacre.

She left the elven forest, it was hard for her to feel secure there. Soon, however, she learned that even as she traveled eastward, nowhere was safe for her. Garrek knew she had survived, and since has never ceased plaguing her with assassins and mercenaries of all kinds. Somehow, providence has intervened at every path, and cautiously she walks the fine line between being the trusting, gentle girl in her heart, and the deadly, defensive woman fate has chosen for her.

Aside from her clothing and armor, Aueniteri carries with her a pack, capable of containing
A bedroll,
Her violin,
Sketching equipment,
All of the clothing/armour she is not currently wearing.

Around her neck at all times is the pendant from her father's corpse, a circle containing a perfectly symmetrical cross, a bright green gemstone set in the center.

Her father's longsword. Although lighter than most, and constructed more for parade than combat, it is a deadly weapon regardless.

Silence! You could give your excuses until Injèrá hides her head from all Santharia, but it will never preserve your life.
I have so sworn...

Listen to the songbird, don't ignore it...
Legacy of the Songbird

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Kain Cristar on November 21, 2005, 11:11:22 PM
Contact me via my ezboard email (fast responce) or @ (slower responce)

The best way to get access to my most recent CD, is to click on the link at my sig.

You have lived a life of cruelty and atrocity, you have bathed in the blood of the innocent, you have considered every act of depravity and your corruption knows no bounds. I am the angel of justice, I am the accumulation of all of your sins. Prepare for your redemption.

-Kain Cristar, Divine Aspect

Edited by: Kain Cristar  at: 1/31/06 6:41

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: festrath Blackmoor on November 22, 2005, 06:02:22 AM
For quickest response, just contact me at my ez-board address.

Name: Festrath Blackmoor
Race: Human
Tribe: Avennorian
Gender: male
Age: 34
Height: 1.6 peds
Weight: 1.5 pygges
Title: Pirate Prowler
Occupation: Pirate Captain

Overview: A charming pirate captain who gets what he wants through lies, charm, and guile.

Appearance: Festrath is slightly shorter than the average male, standing at 1.6 peds tall. His skin is tan from a life at sea, and his body is well muscled. His black hair is shoulder length, and tied into a ponytail while on land. While at sea it is left to hang down so as to whip about his face in the wind. Faint scars cover his front and back. His face is heart shaped and handsome. He wears a very short, rough black beard that covers his jawline. His intense eyes are a stunningly bright blue, and the fire of mischief dances in them. His teeth are a flashing white, which he uses to give dazzling smiles. On his back he has a tattoo of a green dragon coiled around a ju'bat cat.

Clothes: Festrath is well dressed. A dark green silken shirt covers his torso, and ends at his elbows. This shirt is very loose and flaps in the wind. Around his waist he wears a red silken sash. His satin pants are a rich, dark purple and very baggy and loose. The pants are tucked into his navy blue, leather boots, which go half-way to his knees. Around his hairline he wears a dark green satin headband. On his head, Festrath wears a large pirate captains hat. The hat is navy blue and has a large, fluffy green feather on the top. On his shoulders Festrath dons a long golden cape made of satin. At his sides, Festrath wears four white, satin pouches carrying various items. One bulges with his latest spoils. He usually carries a large amount of coin, often ill-gained. The next carries a deck of playing cards for use in various gambling games. The cards have beautiful pictures of dragons, sea serpents, and ships. The third carries several prized dice made of metal, wood, stone and other materials. They are in several different shapes and colors, also used in gambling. The last holds a case of red-fletched darts. These are used in battle or gambling.

Weapons: On his left hip, Festrath wears a saber. The blade is long and thin, the hilt and wrist guard golden colored. At his right hip, Festrath wears a rapier, also long-bladed, it has a silver wrist guard. Strapped to his back, Festrath has two cutlass's crossed. The cutlass's are slightly larger than the other two swords, with  jeweled golden wrist guards.  On the back of his sash, Festrath holds an intricate hand-crossbow.

Personality: Festrath is charming. He knows how the human mind works, and has refined his mannerisms to appease people. He can carry pleasant conversation, and uses flowery, articulate words. He is usually kind and polite, pleasant to be around unlike most of his crew. He is usually courteous, especially to females.

He is however, a pirate, and as such can have a somewhat rough personality at times. He is quickly angered when someone makes negative comments on his lifestyle. He loves to drink ales and wines, sometimes a little too much. He often reverts to pirate mannerisms when drunk. He can be reckless, and takes unnecessary risks.

He enjoys gambling, and often indulges himself to gamble. He likes having pleasant conversation with other travelers, hearing of the adventures they've experienced. He especially loves talking to females, often trying to woo them.


Sword Play- Festrath is trained well in all pirate weapons. He knows how to wield them with expert finesse, and has had his talent hardened by being in many fights at sea or in bars. Festrath knows how to feint and make false moves with ease. He is exceptionally skilled at both offense and defense, making for a well balanced fighter.

Agile- Festrath learned long ago that if someone can't hit you, you have little need of troublesome armor. Festrath has above average dexterity, though not too exceptional. He is fairly good at keeping out of reach of enemy blows.

Charm- Festrath is very charming. He can throw disarming smiles and win over trust easily. He is polite and generous, usually. He isn't as rude as many would expect from a pirate, and can carry pleasant conversation easily. He also uses his calm, pleasant speech to avoid dangerous fights.
His charisma makes him an excellent leader. His crew respects him, and would do most anything he asked of them without question.

Guile- Festrath is an expert in the art of lies and beguiling. He can work his charm into his lies with beautiful effect. Festrath is skilled in bribing, charming, and getting the information that he needs.  He can tell lies particularly well, often using this skill to get past questioning guards, inquiring on his cargo and such. He is especially good at charming females, knowing how to work his charm on them with even greater effect.

Dual-Weapon Fighting Festrath is trained in using two weapons at a time. He can dual wield any of the pirate weapons on his ship, for they are light and easy to maneuver. This makes it harder for opponents to block, and easier for himself to parry oncoming blows.


No Armor- Though he is fairly agile, Festrath can easily be hurt due to the fact that he wears no armor. He can't sustain blow after blow and count on his armor to deflect it, and if he takes a powerful direct hit, chances are he'll be knocked unconscious.

Alcohol- Festrath enjoys drinking fine wines, or strong ales. He likes to spend his spoils in taverns, and quite often drinks one drink too many. He loses his good sense when drunk, forgetting his manners and letting his temper run high. He can make foolish mistakes while in this state, or lose his temper with someone talking ill of his lifestyle.

Pirate Problems- Being a pirate of some renown, he is infamous and wanted by many. His victims want to see him caught, and would go to great lengths to do so. In large cities he must go incognito, and keep a constant watch on his back.

Reckless Nature- Festrath can be reckless. He takes dangerous risks and chances. He likes to prove his meddle, as well as his charm. He is sometimes overly daring, and often gets himself into trouble that he has difficulty getting out of.

Gambling- Festrath is fond of gambling, especially when drunk. Unfortunately, he can get extremely angry during games of chance or risk. He often tries to cheat, and is quite good at it. But when drunk he makes stupid mistakes and is often caught. This often leads to many bar-fights.

Familiar Faults-  Festrath's familiars can be a weakness at times. Torch the Fire Drell is quite skittish in battle. The noise of steel on steel makes him jittery, and he can lose his morale in such situations. This usually results in him running around Festrath's legs frantically, causing his owner to trip up in a fight.

SwiftFang can also be a nuisance. SwiftFang has an ego, and thinks he is in charge. When he doesn't get what he wants, usually food or grooming, or he is made to do too much work without reward, he gets quite agitated. In times like this, SwiftFang usually refuses to obey Festrath, even in battle situations.

Familiars: Festrath has a golden fire drell named Torch. It is about the size of a large house-cat, and can normally be found sleeping on his shoulder. The large, oval eyes are  bright red. He has four legs with razor sharp claws at the ends, and a strong, flexible, pointed tail. He has the ability to store light energy and release it in bursts of fire hot enough to melt steel. Torch is friendly and playful, but overly skittish around battles.
Festrath's second familiar is his Ju'bat cat, SwiftFang. This cat stands 3 fores at the shoulder, and 4 fores long, with a 2 fore long tail. He weighs 1.4 pygges. He has a slender body, small head, and long muscular legs. His under belly is spotless white, the rest of his coat a rich gold covered with black spots. He has tear-shaped stipes that run from his eyes to his mouth. The mouth is round with razor-sharp fangs. The feet are tread shaped with semi-contractible claws.
Ju'bats are among the fastest land animals of Santharia. This is because of their semi-contractible claws, which provide traction;spring-like spine which allows it to make quick starts and continued acceleration and their enlarged heart and lungs which allow it to run for longer distances.
Swiftfang is a loyal feline, but has a knack for mischief, and a big ego. He can be quite a nuisance when he doesn't get what he desires.

History: Festrath grew up in a wealthy merchant family. His father owned a sailing ship which he used to travel Santharia, selling wares. He specialized in exotic animals trading, and expensive silks. Festrath often accompanied his father on his exploits, having a great love for the sea. Festrath was fairly content, but he did desire more action than just being a merchant.

One day when Festrath was 17, The look-out noticed a large shape against the horizon, coming their way at a high speed. Soon recognizing it as a pirate ship, the crew redoubled their efforts at making the ship quicken it's pace. The pirate ship proved to be faster, however, and soon drew up along side the merchant ship. Festrath watched in fascination as the pirates threw grappling hooks over the railing and pulled their ship closer. The pirates leaped aboard the ship, chaining all the crew. To Festrath's dismay, none of the crew seemed to have any thought to fight back. When three pirates came to subdue him, Festrath fought back. Grabbing an oar, he lashed out at the men. The pirates obviously weren't expecting a fight, especially from one this young. They were caught off guard and quickly fell as blows from the large oar fell upon their skulls and stomachs. The other pirates aboard quickly drew their weapons and chased the young upstart. Festrath had no intention of being taken easily, leading the pirates all across the ship, hiding behind the mast, climbing the ropes, and keeping them at bay with the oar. The more experienced pirates eventually caught him however, and held his arms behind his back. Still he struggled. The captain came aboard then, a fearsome man to behold. With a shaggy beard, mane of unruly red hair, and a patch over one eye. Watching him in awe, Festrath continued to struggle, until he felt a splitting pain in the back of his head as darkness overcame his senses.

Groggily Festrath opened his eyes slowly, reaching to touch the back of his sore head. Looking around he saw that he was in some kind of cabin, richly furnished.  Sitting in a chair directly beside him sat the captain. The man was watching him with amusement, and with a grin splitting his face, he spoke.

Hey, look who's finnally awake! What's yer name son?

Dazedly Festrath answered. Er, Festrath, Sir. Festrath Blackmoor

My name's Cap'n Glint. Nice to meet ya, Blackmoor. He said holding out his hand.

Confused, Festrath shook it, and remained silent.

Well, I suppose I might as well get to the point. You've got a fiery spirit, and a feisty determination, ya showed that back on yer ship. I could use someone like you in my own crew. Interested?

Festrath's eyes widened in shock. This captain wanted him to be a pirate? This could be the chance he always wanted, action and adventure. But what about my Father and his crew, Sir?

Well, I was goin' ter sell 'em back to their families. But, if you join my crew, I'd be glad to just drop 'em back ashore at their home port. How about you work for me fer abou' eleven years? I'll be able to retire by then, and then I'll let you have pick of my ships and you can be a captain of yer own crew. In the meantime I'll teach you evry' thing ya need ter know abou' bein' a pirate.

Seeing no problem with this arrangement, Festrath eagerly agreed. Consider it done. I'll work for you for eleven years, Captain Glint!

Glint smiled broadly. Aye then matey, welcome aboard the Sea Jaw!

So for the next eleven years, Festrath worked under the captain. While aboard the Sea Jaw, Festrath learned to operate a ship, how to fish, and climb masts. Glint and his crew educated him in swordplay, teaching him to fight like a pirate. Festrath eagerly learned how to do fancy footwork, intricate swordplay, and even dual-wielding. He developed a muscular build, and improved his guile and charm. Glint treated Festrath like a son, and taught him everything he knew about pirating
At the end of his eleven years, Festrath was a respected pirate, his crew and captain admired his daring and charm. Glint stayed true to his promise, and let Festrath choose a ship of his own. Festrath chose the Maelstrom, a large warship. Glint and Festrath worked on the ship, for Festrath wanted his ship to be the fastest on the sea, able to moe at breakneck speeds. Much of Glint's crew joined Festrath, and Glint retired to live like a king in Strata. Festrath prowls the seas, Pirating the greedy or cruel. Occasionally he pirates lone ships from various navy's as they patrol.

Ship: The Maelstrom is a warship, 22 peds in length. The  hull is made of thick black oak, making it hard to penetrate. The ship was modified to Festrath's liking, making it extremely fast. The ship has three masts, the mizzen mast and  main mast are able to pivot, allowing the ship to turn better and catch more wind. The ship is designed to cut through water and wind like a knife, and leaves water foaming in it's wake. The ship has two ballistae at the front, two at the back. The sides each have five ballistae, each of these fire iron spheres attached to chains, used to damage masts. The ship has a weapon room below-deck hung with falchions, scimitars, cutlasses, sabers, rapiers, chains, hooks, grappels, and crossbows. This is in the center below-deck, with crews quarters around it. Right beside it is the store room, containing cargo such as barrels of salted fish and meats, dried fruits, and ale. The large sails are dark green in color. The mizzen mast has a flag bearing Festrath's symbol, A green dragon coiled around a Ju'bat cat, on a navy blue background. The front of the ship is carved to resemble a huge dragon rearing up, jaw gaping, claws reaching out. The claws and teeth are painted white, the scales green. The eyes are fiery red, with a slitted pupil. The wings are folded behind it's back. The name Maelstrom is on both sides of the ship in the form of navy blue steel embedded into the hull.

Ports: The Maelstrom's great speed allows it to travel around Santharia quickly. Festrath travels to most of the continents, but mainly stays near Strata.

 Festrath Blackmoor

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Arrianna Valerious on November 23, 2005, 04:42:22 AM
You can find me at :, im online alot!

Name: Arrianna Valerious

Gender: Female

Age: 50, looks at the age of about 25.

Weight: 1.5 pygges

Race: Elf

Tribe: Coórhém Elves

Occupation: Revenge

Title: The Avenger

Physical Appearance: Dark brown eyes, seeming to go on forever, black hair reaching her lower back, 2 peds tall, almost transparent white skin, typical elven ears, long slender limbs and a small tattoo of a bow and arrow on the base of her neck, a tribute to her fathers teachings.

Clothes: Skintight v-neck leather bodysuit with a red silk stripe on the left sleeve to symbolize the one swing of a sword that killed her father, lightweight boots with silver buckles to her knee.

Personality: Very outgoing, with a direction all of her own. She is seductive to get what she wants, and it angers her when her efforts have no effect. Her voice is of medium pitch, and very husky. Can be very sly, and has a very strong sense of pride in herself and her qualities. Before talking to anyone in a crowded area, such as a tavern, she will retreat to a corner and watch from a distance, and will often wait for people to come to her. Arrianna is also very defiant of her disease, and will often take stupid or near fatal risks.

Strength's and weakness's:

~ Arrianna is very nimble and agile, she can walk through a forest without making a sound.
~ Arrianna is moderately skilled in swordsman ship
~ Arrianna is a very skilled archer, and has the arching abilities of an elf of 60.
~ Tree climbing
~ Arrianna does not feel fear, which prevents her from running from situations, or losing concentration in battles.
~ Arrianna is very intelligent.
~ Seduction.

~ Arrianna is very proud and arrogant, which often prevents her from making many friends.
~ Arrianna refuses to forgive and forget, and will not allow something to pass without revenge, making any type of relationship impossible.
~ Arrianna mistrusts all, except those who were friends of her fathers.
~ Arrianna is egotistical.
~ Arrianna does not feel fear, so does not asses the risks before going into a situation.
~ Arrianna has a rare condition, like today’s hemophilia, so any wounds cannot clot and heal unless almost immediately bound and a healer must be sought, or she will bleed to death. Small bruises or scrapes will not have major effects, Arrianna will simply have to rest for a while. Yet wounds such as nosebleeds, cuts or gashes could proove fatal if help was not found, as Arrianna does not know how to treat her condition.
~ In Arrianna's defiance of her disease, she has come near death on several occasions, and therefore is becoming more ignorant of her disease, beleiving she can beat it, and is taking larger risks.

History: She was born in Nybelmar, though where is not certain. This is because her father, who taught archery, fled from Nybelmar to Sarvonia weeks after her birth, from his horrendous debt problems. After fleeing, her father never spoke of her birthplace. All Arrianna knows of her past in Nybelmar is that her mother died in childbirth there. Arrianna was brought up by her father, in a secluded place, yet, when Arrianna had just turned 30, they were found and Arrianna’s father was murdered by another Coórhém elf who he owed the majority of his debts to. Arrianna’s father was murdered with one swing of a sword. Ever since her fathers unexpected death Arrianna has not only felt guilty for not trying to control his gambling, but took it upon herself to avenge her father's death, although she is unclear on how to do this. Arrianna’s father taught her all she knows in swordsmanship, archery and music, along with all her knowledge of the lands and weaknesses of races. Her mother died in childbirth, and growing up without a mother has deprived her from having any skills in any form of house work, though Arrianna never felt deprived. Arrianna has a fascination with fire and dragons, which probably derives from the stories her father told her when she was a little elf. After her fathers death, Arrianna had to learn to survive by herself, and found that the most successful way for her to manipulate any man, was through seductionand so she came to learn her ways.

Weapons: Many knives and blades hidden on her person, but the main ones being a thin bladed knife in her left boot, a gift from her father, a broad sword in a sheath at her side, a short thin bladed dagger in a pocket on her right sleeve. A long bow that is held on her back, with a quiver of arrows.

Belongings: Her weapons, and a small pouch of money and a selection of keys to different buildings and safes through Caelereth, that she found on her father's person after his death, though she is unsure of most of their uses and purposes. Arrianna does not know how her father came across these keys. Arrianna’s father had actually collected these keys through his travels when he was younger, and each key unlocked a place of great significance to him, or opened a safe with small collections of money in.

Familiars: Blaze, who is an icy white centoraurian horse, who she found as an orphaned foal, and feels a great connection to him, because she feels they both had their parents ripped from them too soon. Blaze is her closest friend.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Kalean Ephien on November 24, 2005, 06:52:22 AM
Contact info:
Name: Kalean Ephien
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Tribe: Kasumarii
Age: 31
Occupation: assassin/wizard level 5
Title: Ice Assassin

Appearance: Kalean stands at 1.8 peds tall, and is of what most would call an average build. He is fit, due to his acrobatic training but he is not huge in muscle mass. He has the standard look of the Kar-ii, white hair (worn long with what looks like a clasp that holds back his longer bangs, but its actually a dagger) and grey eyes, and a narrow but pleasing face.

Personality: Kalean is actually quite jovial for an assassin, or a wizard. But he is able to focus on the task at hand, which his teachers at Ximax, or more specifically The Tower of the Sea found quite helpful. Sometime he lets his mouth get ahead of him and then he finds himself often having to defend himself in some manner. He is also very creative, in several fields, including how to kill people and the arts in general.  

Clothes: Kalean has two sets of clothing; one is an all black outfit including boots gloves, and a mask, the other is a set of armor made from steel (if there is steel in Caelereth) with his Coat of Arms, the Korenjaan form.

History: Kalean grew up on Cyhalloi, the island of Guldor but, soon moved with his father and mother to Xaramon and more specifically Ximax at the age of 6, his father was a Darkpriest and His mother was an assassin. The reason that they had moved so far was a few things: first the orcs from the island Dorolak where getting restless and starting to conduct small raids on villages settled on Cyhalloi. The second was Kalean's mother became aware that there was a plot to kill her by another Kasumarii family. There was apparently some rumor that she had assassinated one of the family’s cousins. This of course could lead to her death so she determined that Ximax would be a good place to move. This was based on that they would think to look there for Kalean's father being a priest would have no use for the cites main attraction and that is was a big city and it was easy to get lost in the large crowds.
Kalean himself had taken his mothers coat of arms the Korenjaan at the age of 10 for he had no desire to be a priest, but the idea of being a wizard interested him greatly, along with the occupation of his mother as an assassin also intrigued him since it was the heritage of his people to become some of the best assassins in the known world.

At the age of 12 he entered the academy for himself and found his focus element to be Water. He progressed at a steady rate through his classes devoting all his time to it much to the dislike of his mother who wanted him to go along a more traditional road. He father though was very pleased in his son; unfortunately the father learned magic for power, whereas Kalean learnt it because of the mystery, the wonder and the challenge, instead of greed. This caused the father to build a wall between him and his "weakling" son, thinking that Kalean was less that worthy to even speak to him. Kalean at first found this confusing but as time when along, the wall became a source of tension between the two of them and has never been resolved.

Now just one year after completing his level 5 wizard classes or tests, Kalean has turned his attention to learning the other occupation that he is interested in, being an assassin. His mother began to school him, but his training was cut very short as his mother was captured and sentenced to death a year later. During the first year of training he only was able to learn several acrobatics, like running up walls and catching the edge, running along walls for a short period of time, and using the area to his advantage when fighting. He is still practicing these things and other ideas of his own. His mother wasn't able to teach him much about stealth, so he is trying to learn for himself but it is proving quite difficult.

Kalean has only done 3 assassin jobs to date and has foiled two of them, now he has at least 6 different men after him at any given time for the mistakes he made. The first was a fat merchant who had cheated his business partner out of a lot of money, the partner hired Kalean to kill the man, unfortunately Kalean had a cold and blew his cover by sneezing, and he was clearly seen but got away. The fat merchant hired 4 mercenaries to hunt him down; they still are trying to find him. The second was a family betrayal, two brothers where arguing over a girl and got into a fight. The weaker one lost of course and sought revenge. He hired Kalen to kill his stronger brother, but again he failed and barely got away, saving his own skin. Now the stronger guy and his best friend are also hunting for him.

Magic: Level 5,
The Sphere of Change:
Spell class 1: Transformation
a) Liquidization - This spell causes the body to begin to flow and shift with the makeup of a lake or ocean. The being at first retrains the form of its original shape, but can bend and shift to any liquid form, and is immune to most physical attacks.
b) Freeze - This spell takes Liquidization one step further, by focusing and stressing upon the ice properties of the Water Element, and hence freezes the target into a solid, yet brittle form.
c) Ice Touch - By increasing the ice property of Water at any location he/she sets his hand upon, a mage can deal a mild chill to a lethal heart-stopping blast of frost to the target.

Spell class 2: Water enchantment.
a) Harmony - This spell causes a person's mind to become serene and calm, and thus makes the target feel as if they are safe and at ease, even when in the middle of a rage.
b) Lunatic Fervor - This spell creates a raging storm of chaotic emotions and thoughts to spiral like a whirlpool in the target's mind, bringing all but the most serious of mind to madness and insanity.
c) Negative Image - Similar to the way that rain water causes multitudes of colors to appear, this spell causes the mind to think that it is seeing the entire area around them to sparkle and dazzle with random colors, confusing and bewildering the target.
d) Skin of Painlessness - This spell dilutes the mind's ability to detect physical pain, similar to the way water generally can dilute harmful substances (like alcohol), causing the target to be able to withstand unbearable torture with a smile. Only pain is reduced, and so damage and death still apply.

The Sphere of Currents:
Spell class 1: Tides
a) Part Water - This spell serves to create an expanse between two "parts" of water, by causing the water elements to flow away from each other.
b) Wave - Wave serves to move large, and even massive amounts of water to run over enemies, fields, and whatever else needs a decent washing.
c) Bath of Cleansing - This spell is used to wash poisons and viruses from a targets body. While it does remove the source of the damage, this spell does not heal or reverse the effects caused already by the poison.

Spell Class2 : Thought (Spiritual Representation of Currents)
a) Repel - This spell causes the mind's natural cár'áll to swirl and shift with such a chaotic fervor that any other mental spell becomes difficult to attach to the target's mind. This spell often gives a headache to the target, however.
b) Distract - By swiftly guiding the cár'áll away from and then back to the target's perception, Splash causes a person to suddenly become startled, causing them to forget where they are and what they were thinking for a few moments.

Weapons: Five different daggers hidden in various places, (i.e. boots, hair, sheaths in clothed inside his armor.) and a long ash wood staff.

Strengths: His magical ability. It is quite advanced and allows him to take advantage over others. Speed is also another, he is very fast when running or throwing daggers. Sight: his eyes can adjust almost immediately from darkness to light. Assassin training, is a strength, but only in the area of flexibility and acrobatics. (see history for details)

Weaknesses: Lack of skill as an assassin, since he is not fully trained by any standard he often foils his assassin jobs. He is not very good at blending in with shadows yet, nor can he move with complete silence, so he can be seen and heard if the guard is alert and looking for an intruder. Therefore if he does get a job, 8 out of 10 times he is certain to make a mistake and get caught. This will make enemies and if its one who is higher up in society, it would make many more, which would make him hunted and almost constantly in trouble. Because his is so horrible he has to date only received 3 jobs, and two of them failed.  Magic, it takes time in battle, and makes him vulnerable to arrows, spear, and extra.

Belongings: Staff and daggers

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: kelsadin on November 24, 2005, 11:08:22 AM

Name: Kels Adin
Gender: male
Age: 28
Race: human
Tribe: Helcrani
Occupation: trader
Title: Tradesman of Vardynn

Detailed Description

Kels is well-tanned, lean and athletic, with dark brown eyes and sharpened features. He keeps his blonde hair and beard cut short. He wears a burgundy-coloured surcoat over a heavy suit of chainmail. If one looks closely enough, you will notice each of the buttons (made of hammered iron) is inscribed with a black stag's head with a star-shaped gem placed between the stag’s antlers.

Physical Appearance
Kels is an athletic, lean and toughened-looking man who hails from a wealthy family in the forests north of Jernais, near Ephirn’s Lake. His leathery skin is tanned, as he spends most of his time outdoors, he has dark brown eyes and sharpened features. He keeps his blonde hair and beard cut short. He stands about 1.7 peds and weighs 1.8 pygges. His hands are callused and he has thick forearms, the result of having to bear arms during trade missions when he accompanied his father.

Kels wears a burgundy-coloured surcoat over a heavy suit of chainmail. The surcoat is made of tanned leather and buttons up the front. If one looks closely enough, you will notice each of the buttons (made of hammered iron) is inscribed with a black stag's head with a star-shaped gem placed between the stag’s antlers. When he is not in armor, he wears pants, leather boots, and a white surcoat over a burgundy, woollen tunic. During the winter months, Kels wears a dark brown hooded cloak over his surcoat.

Kels will not mix words when he has a task to accomplish or a place to get to, though he will engage in conversation when he is able to relax over a pint of ale. He will devote a small amount of time to enjoy a good drink and a pipe in a dim taproom, but often feels he is wasting his time unless he is working. Kels is fairly well spoken as a result of his upbringing, and enjoys learning about other cultures and lands far afield from his home in Vardynn province. He does not like to waste too much time with introductions, as he feels that a person’s title is less important than what they do. More important to Kels is how well one does their job. He has amazing work-ethic, and became accustomed to working 16-hour days, training or leading skirmishes at the outskirts of his father’s estate, or accompanying his father’s trade missions to wealthy landowners in other countries.

Strengths and Weaknesses
a) Strengths

1. Agility – Kels lean, athletic frame and toughened musculature has been his greatest strength. He is able to wield a heavy-bladed longsword and a shortsword together with relative ease and deadly accuracy.

2. Tenacity – Kels refuses to give up once a task is begun, and will focus on completing a job to the best of his abilities. His health and constitution allow him to continue working for many hours with little rest.

3. Knowledge of Cultures – Kels has travelled some of the lands adjoining Vardynn (Nermera, Xaramon, Sanguia and Enthronia) so he knows much of the people and their customs of neighbouring lands.

b) Weaknesses

Ambition – Kels seeks to improve his personal status or wealth. For this reason, he will often select tasks, which he knows will help him gain favour with people in positions of authority.

Fear of heights – Ever since his youth, a near fatal accident where he fell from the loft of a barn and took months to recuperate from his injuries, Kels has felt uneasy about climbing ladders, and he cannot stand on ledges.

Abrupt – Kels hates wasting time. He can only spend so much time in idle conversation before he must leave and do something. Even if it is something as simple as checking the edge of his weapon or the shoes on his horse.

Arrogance - Kels has been brought up amongst lesser nobility and merchants, and though he does not consciously look down on members of the peasant class, he will come across as condescending.

Kels is the younger of two sons of a wealthy merchant, Lorris Adin, and grew up in the north of Vardynn province. Kels noticed at an early age that his father favoured his eldest brother, Thyrinn, who was naturally athletic and handsome. Thyrinn had also been promised the hand of the daughter of one of his father’s business associates, a wealthy spice merchant, which Kels’ father set up to ensure the continued prosperity of the family business. When he was six, Kels fell out of the hayloft while roughhousing in a barn and broke his arm and collarbone, and was bedridden for several months. It was during this time that young Kels, who was curious and always learning, asked to have a tutor. He father obliged, at the behest of his wife who had always looked out for Kels, but Lorris saw this as a waste of finances. A rift grew between father and son.

As time passed, and Kels excelled at his studies in language, history and mathematics with a private tutor, and he learned the financial value of his father’s holdings. Kels also learned that his eldest brother did not understand good business practices and possessed little ability to interact with potential customers. At the age of thirteen, Kels decided that he would inherit the family’s business, to keep it from being destroyed. Kels’ intentions were not completely altruistic, as the family estate, which consisted of several acres of trees near the Thaelon Forest, if managed properly would bring him great wealth. The prize of the estate is the silkel tree grove, which was a significant source of income for the family – his father exported the medicinal substances and silk cloth produced by the trees.

Kels first act was to improve his status in his father’s eyes. He took up fencing and other physical activities, and after two years of hard training became an excellent swordsman. At the same time, Kels grew strong and filled out his lean frame. This transformation helped him become popular with the daughters of his father’s business associates. And though he was not as comely as his brother, Kels was more comfortable speaking to them as people, rather than treating them as objects. On one occasion, Kels impressed one of his father’s customers with a business idea that he successfully turned into a minor business enterprise to the north. The man offered Kels his daughter’s hand in marriage on the condition that Kels become a business partner. The young man refused, which outraged his father, until Kels told him that he would accept the offer if he was given control of the family estate when Lorris died.

The issue was temporarily put aside, though Kels’ father invited him to attend more business meetings. With time, his father realized the discrepancy between the aptitude of his two sons, and he grudgingly accepted that Thyrinn could not run the family business. Still, he disliked Kels’ ambition. Their father refused to change his will to give ownership of his holdings to Kels, to protect his eldest son whom he loved despite his wayward lifestyle.

Kels did not object. He knew his brother would have little interest in managing the business. Unlike Kels, who had business sense and dedication, Thyrinn preferred to attend social functions and spend money. Ten years passed, and Kels continued to work with his father, travelling to new countries to establish new trade relationships, or accompanying his father’s trade caravans to oversee security. The business grew enough that Kels’ father was able to purchase more land around the Thaelon Forest and the Silvermarshes where elessan trees and honeybees are cultivated. An estate winery was built where they produce Leithe Honey Wine for sale in Northern Vardynn and Nymeran.

The relationship between Kels and his father progressed to the point where his father agreed to his son’s earlier proposal to change his will to pass everything on to Kels, given that he marry. Kels had little problem with the proposition – the girl he had been promised was pretty and intelligent, as well she had a significant dowry. When Thyrinn learned what was happening, he confronted Kels, and attempted to kill him. They fought briefly, but Lorris interceded to prevent Kels, whose training and experience far outweighed his brothers’, from ending Thyrinn’s life. Thyrinn fled southward in shame. His father has rescinded his offer to alter his will until Kels safely returns with his brother. Kels has tracked his brother south to Truban.

Kels’ favours a two-weapon fighting style, using both a heavy-bladed longsword and a shortsword of extremely high quality. He commissioned a master smith in the city of Jernais to forge the weapons with his fighting style and strength in mind, so both are perfectly balanced for him. The hilts of each of weapon appear to be the antlers of a stag, and the handle and pommel have been intricately designed in the form of a stag’s face. He also carries a crossbow.

signet ring of his father's house
bottle of Leithe Honey Wine

Kels’ rides a destrider of mixed stock that stands nearly 18 hands in height and weighs nearly 14 pygges. Eywing (affectionately named by Kels for his admiration for the legendary Caldar Eywing) is covered with brown hair with white markings on his heavily muscled flanks. Bred and trained for battle, Eywing is a fiercesome creature that will not allow anyone but its owner ride it.

1.8 peds

1.9 pygges

Edited by: kelsadin  at: 11/25/05 0:23

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Odras on December 12, 2005, 10:35:22 AM
hi ill join

name Andro Belishia
gender male
age ??? (to old to count)
race half dragon half elf
place of birth under MT. Agreath
tribe loner
occupation necromancer
title Andro of deaths grasp

detailed description
Andro was born to a defient cuple his father the dragon Afriad and his niteelf mother Reasha. when he was born he was throghn out into the harsh world where he met his master/trainer who we dare not speek the name. after he found out his master was going to sell his soul to the keper of the under world he ran for his life now all he seaks is vengene to the one who betrayd him and is now ashamed of his power over the dead. he has now decided to join up with your group to repent his sins.

[img noborder][/img]

known languages


noviece spells
strong necromance
nolage of runes (magic)
see in the dark


afraid to use neromancy
evil erges
fear of solid shadows
plaged by emages of people he has killed

Edited by: Odras at: 12/12/05 2:37

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Grunok the Exile on December 12, 2005, 02:53:22 PM
Odras, I'm afraid you need an approved CD to join.  Please post what you have in the CD forum where the mods can check it.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Kalína Dalá'isyrás on December 13, 2005, 02:18:22 AM
Please post your CD in the correct forum and do not randomly posts in threads in stories/cities you have not been approved to join.

Once you have posted your CD, I will delete it from this thread.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Tulpje Sweetshade on January 24, 2006, 06:33:23 AM
Hi! Capher said I could join, although I've just seen that my post isn't there anymore. In any case, here's my CD. Contact info: (MSN). PS: when will the main gate be open again?

Name: Tulpje Sweetshade

Age: 31

Height: just about 1/7 of a ped, like most Brownies

Race: Brownie (greybark, from the LLaoihrr Brownies)

Appearance: Grey skin, of course matching hair and eyes. As many of her people, she wears mouseleather clothing, protecting her from the cold. She also possesses a coat made of woodowl feathers (with thanks to Nash, fabricated herself).

Character: Although already adult (she joined her parent's clan) she is still very mischievous. She enjoys playing tricks on others, preferably on big races. She might leave hobbits alone, them being small enough, were it not that she has never seen them before. Despite her tricks, she is a little too trusty and naive, though it'll take longer to trust an elf than to trust a human.

Magic: Nothing but the first level of lifemagic, which is simple enough to learn for any brownie. She can't do much with it, except make a plant grow a lot taller. Otherwise she doesn't know real magic.

History: Her youth has passed just like the youth of all the young LLaoihrr. Before her Age of Choosing she learned many things, like hunting, reading and writing, and so on. At 15, she chose the clan of her parents. She was accepted, and then sent to train as part of the flying militia. Always had her parents told her about Greybark Ferretmaster, the greatest brownie hero, after Keeko. She admired his adventures and courage very much, so she accepted this with pleasure.

As part of her training, she had to capture and tame an owl. This is not a simple task for a brownie, being smaller than the owls. She managed to capture Nash when he was still a very small owl. He got used to her, and now they're very good friends. He gave her the feathers for her coat. When flying, it was (and is) funny to see the grey of her skin against the brown of his feathers, but they are a good team.

Another part of her training was the knowledge of herbs, both healing and poisonous. Many Brownies know already the beginnings of this, but if ever the brownies were needed again in a war, this knowledge would come in useful on the battlefield. Of course she hoped there wouldn't be another war to fight in, she wasn't that fond of fighting and killing life, yet this was exactly what she was training for.

After she had concluded her training, she was accepted as full member of the flying militia. Triumphant with her acceptance, she was a little too sure of herself, with as a consequence that she was belligerent to a commander of the militia. It was only after knocking him unconscious that she came to her senses. Seeing the commander unconscious she fled, taking only what was most necessary to survive, and the weapons she had trained with for the past years. She didn't stay to find out what was to happen with her, so soon after she had been fully accepted into the militia. Together with Nash she then roamed Caelereth for about a year, picking up bits and pieces of the human language where she went.

Weapons: She wears two knives in her boots, after the fashion of her people. She also carries a bow and arrow, and being part of the flying militia also the blowpipe, because that's the easiest way to attack from on top of an owl. In her belt are pouches with herbs, which could also be described as a weapon, if mixed in the right way. Otherwise mixed, she can use them as healing herbs. One pouch contains poisoned tips for her blowpipe.

Strengths: Her biggest strength is of course her band with Nash, which has only bettered after they fled together. Also her knowledge of healing/killing herbs. She has taught herself to make the darts of the blowpipe, although that had not been her task back home. But this way she might be feared, she won't lack of ammunition. That is, if you see her. This brings us to the

Weaknesses: Due to an injury in her youth, involving a broken leg that never quite completely healed (Brownie healmasters had their hand in their hair because, inexplicably, it wouldn't heal as it should under the given treatment), her right leg remained very weak. This renders her less agile than most Brownies, although it is not a problem to fly on Nash with that leg.

The only language she is really good at is Browniin. In the fugitive year past, she has picked up some words of different human dialects, which makes her capable of somewhat making herself understandable to others, yet it's still lacking in grammar, verb use, you name it.

Edited by: Tulpje Sweetshade at: 1/23/06 22:34

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Cherri Rowandyn on February 02, 2006, 06:46:23 AM
Hmm I get the odd feeling I have done this before, lol.
MSN IM:  Cherri4ever9978

CD check the link in my sig.

Personal Page
Cherri Rowandyn

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Machrebs Ork on February 02, 2006, 07:01:23 AM
Fastest way to reach me:

Orcs is made for fightin'

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Neiavrine on February 02, 2006, 10:52:23 AM
(This message was left blank)


Edited by: Neiavrine  at: 2/2/06 2:55

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Vylias on March 14, 2006, 12:53:23 AM
My Contact info-
weptover at
msn messenger- weptover at

Sorry-History is pretty long

Name: Vylias
Gender: Female
Age: 29 (looks to be 20 in human years)
Race: Half-elf, Half human
Tribe: Korweynite/Kyra
Occupation: Entertainer/Assassin for hire
Title: Remorseless Survivor
Height: roughly 1 ped, 2 Fores, 1 Palmspan (5' 8 )
Weight: 1 Pygge, 3 Hebs, 1 Hafeb

Physical Appearance: Every feature in Vylias is a struggle between soft femininity and the rough life that has shaped her. Her face is heart shaped giving her a soft and delicate look to her features. Yet, her high cheek bones and wide mouth add a harder look to her features. Dark eyelashes frame large slanted eyes; their color deep wells of indigo. Her long ebony hair falls down in thick waves towards her waist. Yet when she is not using the allure of her hair for work she keeps it in a long braid that she pins in a circular bun.

Her body is curved by voluptuous hips and breasts that are perfect for her pleasure dancing if not for the more refined ones that call for a less rounded body. Despite that she is slender with the deceptive fragility of a dancer whose smooth brown skin covers muscles developed by years of dancing the dances of pleasure and death. Her neck is slender and long. Her hands and feet large and seem clumsy except for when she is dancing.

Traces of her elfin heritage are only told by her height and the scars on ears that should've been pointed by were now rounded.

Clothes: Despite separation from her Korweynite home Vylias still wears the Eben. She wears the simple wide tunic that reaches to her knees, though at times she does wear the one that reaches to the floor. The Eben she wears are not done in the usual bright colors but in deep reds, purples and blues. Also unlike most Eben her long tunics have slits in the side like a soldier might wear. Around her waist is a leather belt usually decorated with vibrant colored scarves.

Vylias has never worn a kyphlem though she has seen her mothers and carries it in a pouch with her few possessions. She also wears light boots that she removes when she dances, replacing it with a brass anklet that accompanies her in her dances with its sweet jangle.

Personality: Vylias is in all things a survivor. She has learned to adapt to her situations, no matter the sacrifice to those around her. She has a strong sense of her own justice. In a world that has given her little it is only true justice that she takes what she can and by whatever means. Therefore she can come off as cold and cruel, but in her mind she is only doing what is right for her.

With this mindset she doesn't look down on people for thefts, killings and betrayal. They are things that all people might do in order to survive. This doesn't mean she sees them as good; they are neither right nor wrong. They are just actions that cause a reaction. It is simply life.

As to friendship and lovers, she has none. It is quite clear to her that people use one another for their benefits; even love is just a selfish emotion. Still there is a part of her that longs for the idealism of the stories she has heard from barbs and the great friendships and loves that are selfless. These thoughts made lead her to help someone she would not otherwise help, though her trust goes only so far.

-One of her greatest strength is her dance. It is said that the Korweynite have a certain embedded magic in their art and in Vylias' dance it is very evident. Her dance is mesmerizing and very seductive to most men and women. The dance works by focusing on a particular emotion or emotions and instilling it in the dance, therefore causing the audience to feel a certain degree of the emotion that the dancer is protraying. The degree that the audience will feel the emotion depends on how good the dancer is and the individual person.

-She has high endurance, very flexible and has great patience which comes into use with her jobs as an assassin.

-She is highly proficient in the use of daggers and the armored fan, which she uses both in her dances as well as in her hired jobs such as assassination.

-She is distrustful of people that use magic in any way to a point where she finds it hard to see any good qualities in a person who uses magic. She will refuse to accept help from them and generally sees them as having something mentally wrong with them. If it isn't obvious she just determines that they hide it very well.

-Her only defense against heavy weaponry is her quickness. So if she is cornered by heavy weaponry she is basically defenseless. This makes her incredibly skittish of small enclosed places to the point of being claustrophobic.

-She is incredibly stubborn when she has come to a decision. Though she can easily walk away from people, she finds it harder to walk away from things she has openly committed to. This commitment she will hold on to even against her usual steadfast survival instinct.


Before she was born-

Vylias' mother, Titya, came from a home of artists and was well known for her performing arts. Her song and her dance made her quite popular and eventually she drew the attention of one of the Kyra. She was given much praise for being called on by the Kyra, but when she came back to her home there was something different about the young girl.

Titya had fallen in love with the Kyra and to her amazement her feelings were returned. Their relationship though was not one that was look on favorably by either race, but it was never openly condemned. So ignoring her families silent disapproval the girl continued to see the elf.

Despite their love the love for his people finally drew the elf away and he went back, deserting the human girl who loved him. Yet, he left her with two gifts. One was a diamond necklace and the other was a child. The child for a long time the girl had no knowledge of it growing inside her. She continued to dance, always wearing the diamond necklace her elf given her, under her clothes despite the consequences that would surely befall her if she was discovered to wear a jewel limited to only the imperial court.

Love clouded her mind and when one day she passed out from an exertion of the dance and the pull of her unborn child, the diamond necklace was revealed. Once recovered, she was urged by a servant to run away, since if she stayed she would surely be put to death. So grabbing as little as she could she fled Korweyn.

She was able to book travels with a ship heading to South Sarvonian, with the last bit of money she had from the savings she kept for the wedding that would never happen. She knew that when she reached the city she could pander her jewels until she could find employment. The journey was a long one, but she was well fed and looked brightly on the future, despite the strangeness of her companions. This new life was even more hopeful when her baby was born, a healthy infant, on the ship. She named her Vylias. The ship's route ended in the port city of Varcopas, with little knowledge of the place to guide her she was taken on by one the passengers- Morck. Morck promised to find her a job in the city of Ximax, which was talked about extensively on the ship. Titya agreed, grateful to find someone willing to help her. Once reaching the city she pawned her jewels on Morck's suggestion, so she would be better able to live until he could gain her employment.

Yet, the day she was to meet Morck he came to her with a face in shock.

"It's all gone. My fortune..."

The pity she had for him turned into fear when a certain zeal came into his eyes. He had noticed that she was no longer wearing her jewels. With desperation in his eyes he attacked her, stealing all the money she had gotten in her trade. Titya could see the shame he felt as he looked down at her and her small child, but desperation overcome it and he left her broken body there in the slums of Novorhall.

The Childhood of Vylias-

Vylias and her mother discovered themselves in a splendid house in the inner city. The pair was nursed back to health. Their good fortune was due to a female mage named Galafia, which took them in. She was a wind mage who studied at the academy, but her wealth came from her noble family line. The question of why she helped Titya and Vylias was not entirely clear at first. Eventually as Titya grew healthy it became clear that the mage was smitten by the woman. She was constantly calling on Vylias' mother to dance and sing, which her mother was happy to do.

It was there that Vylias childhood took place, surrounded in a house of gold and jewels. Her mother already began to teach her the arts of dance. The magic both scared and fascinated her, but it was the mage that fascinated her the most. The sorcerer's eyes were always on her as if she found Vylias both captivating and repugnant. Once she told her mother about it, but her mother simply laughed.

"Galafia is merely jealous. She wants all my attention to herself, a woman that is simply a child with too many toys."

Vylias was not reassured, but she said no more about it because she was certain her mother would only laugh. In the end she was content, because despite these disturbing glances Galafia had been nothing but kind to her if at times distant and her mother played with Vylias and often touched the tips of her pointed ears with a soft sigh of longing that made Vylias feel special.

Whether her mother loved the sorcerer as much as the woman loved her she wasn't sure. She knew that her mother did cherish her and was her lover, but there was something that she held back always. When Vylias turned 10 her world changed. It was her name day and she went early to her mother's bed to wake her. Yet, as she ran in she was shushed by the sorcerer.

"Your mother is ill."

At first Vylias felt irritation at Galafia. If mother was ill it would pass and this was her name day. Yet time passed and mother never got better. The sorcerer said she was ill because the land was foreign, but Vylias couldn't understand the idea someone could become ill because they were foreign. The sorcerer always sat by her mother side, not letting anyone come near her, not even Vylias. Vylias would sit by the door listening instead; waiting for the sorcerer to leave so she might cuddle in her mother's arms and hear her sing softly. It was her only comfort, since more and more the sorcerer ignored her and she began to feel like a ghost trapped in the large walls of the once splendid house.

Then one day as she laid cuddled in her mother's arms her mother began to tell her a story. A story about a beautiful elf and the human girl he once loved. Right at the moment when she spoke of the elf leaving to return to the solitude of his people a soft cry passed her lips.

"Kethar, my love..." And then she was silent.

Vylias didn't move. She just stayed curled against the quickly cooling body of her mother. When the sorcerer came back she was yanked from her position, but she didn't care, silent tears poured from her face. The look of grief that came over the sorcerer's face would always come to mind when she thought of her. The sorcerer ran to her mother's bed, grasping her body and wept for a long time. Vylias' weeping joined hers until she feel asleep.

When Vylias was awakened, her life was suddenly thrust into chaos. Galafia dragged her up into a room; her words a jumble. She was pulled into the workshop, a place she had never been allowed in before. Shivering with fear she began to cry, but her tears were ignored.

"That elf, it was that elf's fault," the sorcerer kept mumbling to herself.

Slammed against a table Vylias found a knife at her face. Sucking in her tears she tried to stay perfectly still, but no constant stillness would be enough. As the knife cut into the flesh of her ear she screamed, but nothing would stop what was happening.

In the morning Vylias found her ears mutilated, but bandaged. Galafia sat in a chair her eyes red and her cheeks stained from weeping. When she heard Vylias wake her eyes drifted towards her and there was shame in her glance as she looked on the child.

For a long time neither one said a word, then Galafia stood and left. She didn't come back for two days and Vylias didn't leave. She didn't know where else to go and despite the horrible thing Galafia had done she had done it in grief and was the only family Vylias had now.

When Galafia finally did come back she beckon Vylias to her, handing her a cloak as the set out of the inner city towards the outer city of Ximax. There they stopped at a splendid house that seemed out of place in the slums of Norvorhall. Galafia talked to a person inside the house and then Vylias was pushed into a room where Galafia leaned down and spoke to the girl.

"From now on this will be your home. You will work here as a servant."

Vylias started to protest, but Galafia shushed her.

"You can not stay with me anymore. I am afriad what will happen if you stayed." She glanced at Vylias's scarring ears and no more was said. Galafia left and Vylias became the serving girl in a stranger's house.

It can get worst-

Javile. His name will always stick in her mind. The abandonment by Galafia, even the final mutilation but the sorcerer was nothing compared to what Javile did to her. His pleasure in her was evident. At first she was just a normal servant, but when he discovered that she could dance he asked her often to perform for him and his customers. She wasn't there for a month before he forced her into his bed, stealing whatever hope she had of her future.

Her life was one of use. She was no longer a servant, but his entertainer. She was raped often, and sent to pleasure any company he would have no matter how they might derive their pleasure. There was always someone more creative, more brutal. In fits of boredom Javile would torture her. What scared her the most were the mages. None of them were like Galafia, and since the day Galafia had left her there she had heard no more of the mage. There were only a few mages that came to Javile, but they were regulars seeking a place to devulge in their darker perversions. Their pleasures seem to always be tainted with a certain madness. Her experiences with them soon began to shape all her thoughts on magic users.

There was some question that maybe Javile was a mage himself, but this was often scoffed at. He was a wealthy merchant who sold weapons and trinkets that supposedly were imbued with magic. Yet, he had a side services, providing pleasure and entertainment for those whose desires were not quite appropriate or legal.

Whether he was a mage or not, to Vylias, he seemed to have a certain magic. The many times she tried to escape him were thwarted as of he always knew what she was planning. She didn't know why he seemed so set on not letting her go, but he seemed obsessed with her. A few times she tried to go to one of his customers for help, but they ignored her pleads. She was not a slave, if she wanted to leave she could just leave. People on the outside never see the cages those on the inside are contained in.

At 13 Vylias was given an armored fan by a visiting mage, Colis, who had taken an interest in her. He promised to send her a teacher to teach her the dances. Javile agreed to it, despite his distrust in the mage's gifts. Indeed he did have reason to distrust the mage. Colis had a grudge with Javile and he had seen the coldness in Vylias eyes, discovering a tool that might indeed profit him in the future.

So she began to train in the use of the armored fan, which was only slightly different from her training in light fans. She was a quick learner and was soon very proficient in it. As well as training in the fan her so called dance teacher taught her usage with daggers, and she learned the different ways of using a dagger as well as throwing them. The techniques she learned were those one might use as an assassin and it was clear, even to her, that she was being shaped as an assassin for Javile. She looked forward to it.

In this living nightmare her only pleasure was Javile's eagle named Sorth. The bird was wild, even Javile had been unable to tame it. So instead it was locked up in a cage, displayed for Javile's amusement. She didn't dare let the bird out, but she would sit next to it and talk, feeding it pieces of meat she had managed to steal from the kitchens. She felt that in the eagle she had found a kindred spirit.

Years passed and when she had turned 21 she was finally asked to do the job. It was too easy. When Javelin had forced her into his bed once more, in the throngs of his passion she pulled the dagger from the folds of her hair and slit his throat. His body convulsed over her, but instead of the disgust she expected she only felt a clear sense of justice at what had been done.

She didn't wait for Colis as she was expected to. She knew that falling into a mage's hands would just end itself in a similar fate. Magic destroyed the mind and she swore to never touch it. That night she escaped only pausing to release Sorth. The eagle insisted on following her, and she felt honored by its presence. In this way her new life began.

A New Life-

The first thing Vylias did was put distance between her and Ximax. The bit of money she had was quickly dwindling and she had to find work. There were few things she knew so if she couldn't use her dancing she felt no qualms about using her skills as a killer or her body. Her body was only useful if it could help her to survive. No noble thoughts could save her if she starved. So he traveled all over Southern Sarvonia placing herself for hired, no particular goals or desires besides the basic one to survive. If the irony of the situation hit her, she was reassured by the thought that at least this way she had a sort of freedom that she didn't have before.

Weapons: Several daggers and two armored fans.

Belongings: Her mother's kyphlem, a diamond necklace that she keeps hidden, a small pouch she keeps underneath her tunic, a large bag that carries clothes, dancing accessories, a blanket and flint and wood just in case she has to sleep on the street.

Familiars: She has a pet eagle named Sorth. He is not technically belonging to her, but a companion that willingly stays by her side with the knowledge that it will leave her when it pleases. At times it has helped to hunt food for her and on rare occasions has protected her from threats.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Garth Avery on November 11, 2006, 02:44:23 AM
Ok, here's my character description. I'll go post at the gates now :)

Name: Garth Avery
Nickname: Mouse
Gender: male
Age: 25
Race: Human
Tribe: Helcrani
Occupation: Acrobat, Harlequin
Title: Agile Harlequin

Appearance: Although Garth is a Helcrani, he is far from normal. Since his birth, he has been very small, in fact about the height of a well-sized hobbit. When stretching to his full height, he stands at about a ped and a palmspan. Due to his deformity, his limbs seem a little disproportioned, even though this doesn’t seem to hinder him when performing his acrobatics. He weighs about 6 hebs, and his chest and arms are rather muscular. Unfortunately, this only adds to the disproportioned look of his body, as does his waggling gait which arises from the shortness of his legs. The reason that he looks so disproportionate is that his body is about the same size as a normal Helcrani’s, but his limbs are smaller.
His hair slightly curls. In the summertime it has the golden blond colour of honey, and in the right light it has a slight reddish shine over it. In wintertime and when it is wet, it’s more of a dark blond colour.
His facial muscles are very mobile, and he uses them often. This has given him the nickname of ‘Mouse’ very early in life, and he has carried this nickname with him ever since, often introducing himself with that nick instead of with the more normal sounding Garth. With his clear blue eyes, bordering on the grey of an overcast sky, he looks at the world seriously, although not many people care to discover this in him. Most people only see his acrobatics and jestings, and when he is not performing, they usually only see his short stature, while pointing and whispering.

Clothes: The colour of his clothes depends on whether he is travelling or performing.

-Travelling clothes: Plain simple brown garments, namely a tunic and pants. They have quite obviously seen many years of use, and are more patched up than anything else. Along with this, he has a mantle that can only still be called green when it’s held exactly right in the sunlight. Most people would call it grey, if asked. Somewhere he got the idea that he would be safer from robbers wearing faded and patched-up clothes than when the clothes seem new. This may be true, or it may not be true. Whichever, it is very likely that robbers will not think a little man in old clothes riding a donkey worth their trouble. Fact is that he hasn’t had much trouble with robbers during is travelling.

-Performing clothes: folded up inside a pack which is tied over Pepik’s back are three suits which he wears to perform. All three have the same pattern: two different colours are put so that the right hose of the pants is the one colour, and the left part of the shirt is the same one. The left hose and right part of the shirt are the other colour. The suit which he wears on the commonest occasions (for example, performing on market squares) is chequered red and green. He saves the white and light-blue one for a little less common events – performing at an inn. The yellow and violet suit is for very special occasions, for example when he is invited to perform at a rich man’s house. This suit is used the least, but kept the cleanest.
He keeps all three scrupulously clean. There isn’t a spot or torn cloth to be found on any of them. This is why he keeps a needle and thread with him always. For his travelling attire, he doesn’t care about a tear more or less, until he has no choice but to fix it, in which case it just gets another patch.

Personality: Garth is very good in making people laugh. Many people underestimate the effect that this has on his personality, they think that he is a joker at all times. In fact, the contrary is true. While it doesn’t make him sad, it makes him serious. He rarely finds those things funny that other people laugh hardest about. As a consequence, his smile is rare and his laughter even rarer, which is a shame. His smile, once he shows it, lights up his entire face, making you forget his size. On the other hand, it might be that rareness which makes it so brilliant.
He doesn’t easily trust people. He suspects – often rightly, but not always – that they are more focused on his deformity than on his person. He is invariably polite to everyone, but it takes him something to go from politeness to friendship. Once there, however, he is fiercely loyal to his friends, because he knows that they value him for himself, and not just to mock him.
From time to time, he is sad that he isn’t normal, like everybody else, but he has learned to cope with that. His size, in any case, has taught him to put things in perspective, which leads to his not being run away with by his feelings easily.

- His acrobatics, which allow him to earn a little money or find a sleeping place.
- He has learned to put things in perspective, an art which not many people know. Most will only look at things from their own point of view, while Garth always wishes to know all the sides of a story before making judgment.
- He is a good listener, not having the urge to talk about himself much. This doesn’t mean that he will tolerate every stranger that crosses his path yapping at him, but once you get to know him a little, you can go to him when you feel the need to talk. When he is prepared to listen, it is usually a sign that he is letting you in, going from common politeness to friendship. One should, however, remember to talk loud enough, so that he can hear what you’re saying.
- His seriousness. In spite of (or maybe thanks to) his profession, he isn’t one to make fun of others, just for the heck of it. Contrariwise, when he sees someone being made fun of because of how they look, he will do everything he can to stop it, however little that may be, because he knows what it feels like. It’s one of the few things that makes him angry.
- Garth is quite a quick thinker, which can help to get himself out of unpleasant situations. He quickly sees the solution to a problem. However, his seriousness and sense of perspective keep him from jumping to conclusions.

- His size is obviously a great disadvantage. Not only does it make him the target of whispers (or shouts), which gives him an uneasy feeling, but his strange walking gait and his short limbs prevent his being as strong and as fast as other people.
- Though his seriousness is also an advantage, it partly leads to a disadvantage. He is not easily amused, and thus he takes life much more seriously than other people. This leads to a galling view, until his sense of perspective takes over. When he is in such a mood, he can make it very clear that things aren’t alright, all the while staying quite polite. This can make people angry, especially those who don’t know him yet. All this is of course when he is not performing, because then he can make most people laugh and enjoy themselves.
- His hearing is worse than for most people. As a child, he was prone to an illness that affected his ears, leaving him deafer every time. Eventually, it didn’t come back so often, but even now he fears that he will go deaf completely. Right now he doesn’t hear close-by soft sounds, such as a low voice or whisperings. At the most, he will notice that he is being spoken to, but when he doesn’t, people can get the feeling that he is ignoring them, even though they just should have spoken a little louder.
- When he is not performing and sees a crowd of people, he is very much afraid of them, fearing that somehow they will turn against him. He can still work up the courage to go amongst them, but it takes some sweating, clammy hands and hammering hear to get there. As the years progress, the fear is getting stronger. But when he is performing, he doesn’t feel it. He knows then that he is in control, at least partly, of their emotions.
- Another great fear of his are beasts that sting, especially bees and wasps. Whenever there is one near, he acts strangely, doing everything he can to avoid it. This jumping can be very funny to see. Although most of the time it’s not really a weakness, it could be exploited by one who knows it.

History: Garth was born in a small Helcrani village near Milkengrad. His father was a famous warrior, his mother a seamstress. He inherited her hair and eye colour, and seemingly nothing from his father. At first, he seemed normal and healthy enough, albeit that his head was a little too large. Soon, however, they saw that something was wrong. His arms and legs didn’t grow as fast as the rest of his body, and he never crawled like other children, on hands and knees. Instead, he pushed himself forward with his feet and elbows.
By the time he was three, it was clear that he would never be as tall as other people. His father started ignoring him, concentrating on his other boys, who were normally built and of an age to bear arms. While his mother didn’t ignore him, she only took care of him out of a sense of duty, not out of love. Other children made fun of him. It made him sad, because he really only wanted to be like them.
In the household of five, the only one who really loved little Garth was his oldest brother, Nathan. With Nathan’s help, Garth learned to take care of himself, and he gained some independence. His fondest memories of his childhood all involve Nathan. In fact, his very first memory is Nathan’s hand, playing with some stones to distract him.
The first big change in his life, the one that would decide his future career, happened when he was seven years old. A group of entertainers stayed at the village for two days, and they performed one night. Nathan took Garth to see them, because no one else would. He had seen a group once before, while he was in Milkengrad. He was amused by Garth’s obvious fascination, when an idea struck him. Of course he had seen his parents’ lack of love for his little brother. Living in the same household, it was rather hard to miss. He likewise knew that travellers had a hard life. Still, he judged that Garth’s chances of happiness would be greater with them than staying at home.
That night, he talked for a long time with the small boy, about what such a change would mean for him. Whoever thinks that children don’t know anything and that wisdom only comes with age, is wrong. Nathan noticed it again that night, not for the first time. He knew that he would dearly miss him, but it was his brother’s happiness that he had in mind.
It seemed that Garth understood exactly what Nathan was talking about. He had known for a long time that his parents didn’t love him because he wasn’t normal. As far as he knew, those entertainers from earlier, and especially the things they could do, weren’t normal either. There was only one person he would miss, who was sitting opposite right now. As a result of this conversation, the following day saw the sturdily built 21-year-old and his small 7-year-old brother walking towards the inn, where they asked to see the leader of the group.
Jameson was very nice to them, listening with sympathy to their tale and request. He wanted a little time to talk it over with the others, but soon he returned: Garth was allowed to join. He never once wondered what his parent might have felt at his disappearance. 7 years of not being interested had made sure of that. To Nathan, he said a thorough goodbye. Later in life, he kept on visiting his older brother once in a while.
In the artists’ band, everyone soon grew fond of this smaller version of a person. At first, he was told to go around during and after the show, cup in hand, to ask for some money. This taught him to exploit his abnormality, which (for him) proved a good manner of learning to cope with it. He put up puppy-eyes while exaggerating his swaying gait. People were very generous when he did that, as he soon found out.
During this period, as before when he was still living home, he sometimes became ill. The illness always attacked his ears, leaving him feverish and with throbbing ears. After a while, he had it less and less, but he didn’t hear well anymore. Over the years, it slowly grew worse.
Whenever he wasn’t going around, he was watching the show, especially the acrobats, open-eyed. When they knew where his fascination went to, they agreed to teach him some tricks. The process of learning was slow and painful for his short arms and legs. Sometimes he would think about giving up, and just staying with going around with the cup. Yet he always went on, doggedly learning everything to become a good acrobat.
While training, he unconsciously moved his facial muscles, contracting and loosening them as his concentration shifted. One acrobat, by the name of John, who was his favourite acrobat and the tallest man in the group, started calling him ‘Mouse’ because of it. This nickname spread, and soon everyone called him that. Members who joined after that didn’t even know what his real name was.
When Garth was ready for it, the artists started introducing him into the show. The more he learned, the oftener he was seen. His act was popular among the lookers-on, and when he went around with his cup again, he didn’t even have to exploit his size anymore.
The more he became popular during the show, the more he came to fear walking in great crowds. On stage he never feared them, because he knew that they loved his act – which included falling and looking as if he hadn’t meant to fall – but in the years with the artists he had seen enough prejudice and developed enough sense to know they wouldn’t accept him because of his size, and for the he feared that a crowd would turn against him some day.
As his hearing worsened over time, so did his fear. He would often see people close-by talking, without hearing them. This led to imagining that he was the subject of the conversation. He always tries to ignore this feeling, but still he has to work up his courage every time that he knows there will be a great crowd without his performing.
When he was twenty – he had then been with the group for thirteen years – a second big event changed his life. Within a very short time of each-other, both Jameson and John died. Both men had been much more of a father from him than the real one. He was overwhelmed with grief, but succeeded eventually in giving it a place. Still, he wished to move on, and the others understood. As a parting-gift, they gave him a young donkey, which he named Pepik. Despite the reputation of donkeys of being stubborn, Pepik never gave him (much) trouble.
Now free to go where he wished, his first business was to find out what had happened to Nathan. He discovered that his parents had both died the year before, but this only made him think of Jameson and John, without causing any feeling for the man and woman who had never loved him.
Nathan had married and moved to some town to the north of where they used to live. His big brother, who now had two children of his own and a third on the way, was very glad to see him, as he had never stopped wondering what had happened. His wife loved the little man too, thanks to the good things that Nathan had told about him.
After this, he travelled Santharia alone. Whenever he ran out of money, he would perform his act, either at the inn where he wanted to stay the night, as a form of payment, or on the market square, for some coins. Not one performance is exactly the same as the next.
When he is on the road, he always practices, trying to perfect his art. He still goes to meet many of his acrobat friends – most of whom settled down and started a family. When he is not visiting someone, he travels while trying to bring a smile to other people’s faces, as he has done for many years since.

Weapons: none

- Three performing suits (white/blue, red/green, yellow/violet)
- Travelling clothes of a brown hue
- Some balls and other things to use while performing
- A pouch on his belt with his money in it (when he has some)
- Needle and thread and some rope
- Soap, shaving materials
- A blanket that he puts over Pepik while travelling and wraps around himself when sleeping against Pepik’s back.
- Some food and water

Familiars: Pepik, his donkey, whom he rides without a saddle. Pepik wears a sack, containing Garth’s stuff. Despite what the name suggest, Pepik is a female donkey. Her back is Ithild grey, with a small Norsidian line running from head to tail. Her tummy, head and legs are much lighter, a kind of Yealm Beige. She is about 1 ped in height. To mount her, Garth places his blanket over her back, then puts his hands on it, pushes himself up and puts a leg over her back.

Ease of laughter comes so fast when you're not in the jester's shoes...

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Niccoli Faust on December 18, 2006, 06:53:52 AM
CD;boardseen#new (;boardseen#new)
I'm on the IRC, borrowing an email since mine went belly up. contact me by PM, I'm rarely without internet access

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Tanari Thunder on January 06, 2007, 04:16:29 AM
Here we go:

Gender: Female

Age: 19

Race: "Half Tharoc"

Tribe: Volkek-Oshra (father)/Centoraurian (mother)

Occupation: Monster and Mythical Beast Researcher/Singer

Title: Singing Researcher

Tanari (Tanny to her friends) is not the average girl – she’d rather spend all her time in a library with books or crawling through the brush to get a look at a flesh eating beast, and with her occasional bouts of memory loss, retaining information can be difficult; she is out in the world to explore and research large and mythical monsters of every sort. Despite her orcish heritage, she has a beautiful voice which she uses to make her way in the world, along with her blind Drake, Talon. And, she has a taste for drink…

Physical Appearance:

Mostly human with a father who was a half-orc of Ximax, Tanari looks human with just a few characteristics reflecting her orcish heritage, giving her an "untamed" appearance which is not unpleasant to look at. She has long black hair, so dark it almost takes a blue sheen in the sun, swept back from her bare forehead and tied in two waist long pigtails; large, brown eyes which give her face a 'doe-like' quality set back under deep brows; high raised cheek bones which offset her slightly heavier jowls. Her body is slim and feminine and she is just a little over a ped-and-a-half tall. Slightly large hands and feet, but this is usually unnoticed, and she has a 'tanned' look to her skin, which is partly responsible for her nick-name.


She wears a dull red set of loose pants and short robe covered by a large red cloak and hood; a basic reflection of the orcs of Ximax, but not a strict representation by any stretch of the imagination. She wears a plain gold medallion that hangs at the bottom of the V-cut neck of her loose red robe, and a gold bracelet on her right wrist.


Ready to smile, just as ready to knock you to the ground would be the quick way to describe her. She enjoys eating, drinking, and fighting (though her worth in a fight is not the greatest)...rather masculine qualities. However, she just as soon enjoys gossip (in several dialects, she picks up on languages fast), sings like a dream, and has been known to give her friends a night on the town now and then.

Religious matters rarely concern her; believe what you want, just don't force it on her.

She is outgoing, but not above thinking things through...which is where the trouble begins. You see, when she pulls back into deep thought, she starts to forget little things. Like once, she was talking with an elf, and when the elf posed a very...personal question, she stopped to think of how to respond; she turned to Talon and muttered "He is so rude! Just like a dirty elf!" She forgot however, to stop speaking in Sty'rash...the conversation did not last long after that. And there have been worse incidents...


a) She has a Demon Drake named Talon

b) She has some basic control over fire magic.

c) She is nice to be around, makes friends and treats them well, always...unless they annoy her.

d) She has a great singing voice – this is how she makes her living.

e) She learns languages with great ease, and knows multiple dialects of all sorts.

f) She has some minor talent for painting, but such works of artistry are usually for her own reference. Still, once or twice she has sold a painting for money, so this helps with her financial problems.


a) Talon, her Drake, is a cripple. He is blind and his wings were burned to the point that he can no longer fly. He has managed to adapt through his hearing and sense of smell, but his handicaps are impossible to overcome completely – he relies on Tanari for sight and direction, just as she relies on him for strength and protection. He can’t hunt, at least not very well, and being a Demon Drake he is almost always hungry.

b) She occasionally suffers from bouts of immediate/short term memory loss, which can get her into trouble – and can make her attempts at research difficult when she has no paper around to record her discoveries and ideas.

c) Having a Drake around means you may not always be welcome in every town or city – Talon can unwittingly draw extra attention, which makes it difficult on her to associate with people.

d) Stay too long at the party, and some side-effects are unavoidable...such as getting acutely drunk. She can't hold her liquor - at all. Unfortunately, she is becoming a bit of a chronic drinker, and will waste precious resources to buy a drink sometimes – sacrificing a good meal for herself in exchange for some alcohol.

e) She dislikes elves (usually half-elves) passionately. She believes them to be snobbish and rude, and above all...well, VERY snobbish. She has little against half bloods of any sort, except for those with elvish blood, and only rarely gets along with them well.

f) She is a little weak willed - she doesn't like to argue, and might back down on a point she was defending if pressed hard enough. This also involves serious challenges and fights, and has proven a problem in learning new magic skills.

g) She has a fiery temper – while this has proven to be a saving grace on occasion, most of the time it just makes her disagreeable (this is usually when she has been drinking).

h) Being a free-lance researcher makes finances tight, especially when you have a voracious Locust Wyvern to feed (and who has trouble hunting on his own). With having to buy her own supplies, food for herself and her mount, and a slight addiction to liquor, she is often hungry.

i) She has a fear of rejection. She has attempted to publish or sell  work or research and it has been dismissed as ‘outlandish’ and ‘unlikely’. This makes her afraid to show her work to others – and drives her to drink more.


She knows the following spells, both Fire Magic, but she usually must be upset or desperate to perform them effectively:
Flame Control: lv. 2
Searing: lv. 2


Tanari Thunder was born to a half-orc and human mother in Ximax. Her father was a member of the Ximaxian orcs who lived under the Red Tower in the City of Magic. Her mother was not a member of the tribe, however – her presence was tolerated, at best, and she usually spent most of her time above ground while her mage husband spent most of his time in the catacombs. Needless to say, this was a bit of a strain on familial relationships.

Nevertheless, Tanny got along well with both parents, and people in general for that matter. She made friends easily, her bright personality making her an easy person to be around.
She spent a lot of her time poring over the books and manuscripts within the city. She very much enjoyed the stories about monsters, dragons, and great beasts. They fascinated her, so much so that she took up drawing and painting to illustrate what she saw in her minds eye when she read about these fantastic beasts.

Her father began teaching her how to use Fire Magic at an early age (not necessarily with permission from any of his superiors), but she proved a little incapable. It took months and months for her to finally learn and master the first level of her first spell, Flame Control. As for her next spell, that took years, and only when she had been pushed to use it out of anger:

She was 15 at the time, and had taken to wandering the city whenever she felt like it – her mother perhaps placed a little too much trust in her daughter. She had been trying all day to learn ‘Searing’ from her father, and when went away from the lesson angry and frustrated when she could not master it – after, why should she want to learn magic? There were things a lot more fun than that that she could do!
She slipped into a tavern for a drink – a half-elf friend had taken a liking to her and snuck her into the tavern whenever she wanted a little fun. Before long she had had a few drinks, and was enjoying herself to the best of her ability, though still brooding slightly over her failed lesson.

Her “friend”, however, was also a bit drunk. He got a little fresh, to put it mildly, putting his hand where it didn’t belong. Shocked and angry, she took out all her pent-up frustration about the lesson and his own senseless act when she grabbed his wrist to fling his hand away.
She was just as surprised as he was when he jumped back, howling and grasping his scalded wrist. Her own hand was glowing faintly, and she suddenly realized with glee that she had just used the spell she had been trying to learn all day. Ever since that time, however, she has held a mild dislike for half-blooded elves.

Something else she discovered in a tavern was her own singing voice. Many a time, the inmates would want a song or something of that sort, and once she plucked up her own courage to sing. The result was beautiful, and from that point on she had no end of admirers in her circle of influence and habitation.

When she was sixteen, something happened that changed her life forever. One of the mages in the city had purchased (for no small sum) a Demon Drake through the trade routes. When it arrived, it was hampered, hungry and a little annoyed.
The mage, in a rare appearance of an orc had taken charge of his rather expensive purchase at night. On his way back to the Academy, a scuffle broke out in the street ahead of him – just outside the tavern where Tanny was stealing some time to herself and friends. One of the rogues involved in the fight saw the monstrous animal coming up the way but did not see that someone had a hand on it and with a shout of fear threw a stone at the beast.
The result was somewhat catastrophic. The startled beast roared and lashed out wildly, bowling over but not seriously hurting his new owner. It made a leap at the ruffians who had attacked it and was ready to bite a few of them in half.
The mage, in desperation, blasted the animal with fire. It fell to the road, shrieking and rolling in pain, and drawing out the inhabitants of the tavern, Tanari among them.
The burning Drake’s wings were aflame, and he was clawing at his eyes, which had been open and unprotected when the mage let loose his assault on him. The flailing beast had rolled over and soon put out the flames on his back, but continued to whimper and claw pitifully, racked with burns and pain.
The mage was inclined to put the animal out of its misery, and would have, had not the form of young Tanari dashed out from the crowd to get in his way. Her fascination with such creatures had suddenly surfaced, and she then and there refused to allow the mage to kill the beast. It was one of the few times in her life she proved to be unmovable, and finally got what she wanted, pointing out that if he was going to kill the Drake anyway, why not let her have it?

After much coaxing and soothing, she managed to lead the hurting beast to a stable and tended it for several weeks. The loyalty of these Drakes showed through in her favor here, for the two bonded very well during her treatment of the newly christened ‘Talon’. However, he never fully recovered; his eyes were burned to the point that they were useless, and his wings were no better. Still, he never lost his strength or speed, and managed to make up for his losses through hearing and smell, to a small degree, though he came to rely on Tanari for his sight. Singing, she discovered, had a soothing affect on Talon, and soon he became so accustomed to her voice, the sound of it would often calm him in a moment of fear or tenseness.

She suddenly realized she had an opportunity here; with a beast like this, she could travel. She thought of all the places she had never been, the things she had never seen. She pored over the maps and books she enjoyed so much, and wondered, what kept her from learning about these incredible creatures she had read so much of?
So, she packed up. Her parents were not thrilled that their little girl was leaving, but they allowed it, and told her that the door was always open should she choose to return. Her mother gave her some copies of the books she loved, as well as some drawing materials. Her father gave her some money, and a dagger for her personal protection.

She spent a year on the road traveling, and attempted several times to discover whatever she could about all monsters mythical and living. Most of her time, however, was at first spent in libraries and listening to folk tales, so when she tried to publish her first book, Cat Tales and Tails, (revolving around stories and folklore of cats of every kind, especially large ones) the result was a failure. It had taken her two years of traveling and research to put all of that together, and she was devastated. She took to drinking for months, and pretty much fell into the gutter for nearly a year; she made her way as she had before, through singing and entertaining in places like Bardavos, slowly moving south, but as time went on she sang less and less as she spent more and more money on drink - she didn't even care about the fact that she had become with child in the early days of her depression. In the final weeks of this year she ran out of food and hope altogether, and she was rescued by a caring Shendar family who found Tanny, Talon, and her little boy infant on the roadside, all very hungry and near starvation. Her already considerable distaste for half-elves grew all the more when she was sober enough to realize the little boy had elvish blood evident in him. Though she was tempted to stay with the Shendar and raise her son, she left him in their care, not feeling adequate enough to be the mother he would need and ashamed of what she had done.
She decided to put more direct effort into her research, and instead of just book research has also begun to do real field research of any of the animals she can that she wishes to study and understand.


She keeps a large dagger handy – though has no training in using it.


Her jewelry, a pack which contains a journal, books (she has written) and notes, writing utensils, several books on myths and monsters she has collected through her travels, some spare parchments for her paintings and paints, painting utensils and the like. There is also the dagger she keeps.


Talon, a Demon Drake – who is blind and incapable of flying.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Lesalendral on February 06, 2007, 06:01:20 AM
Name: Lesalendral

Gender: Female

Age: 157

Race: Elf

Tribe: Ylfferhim Elves

Occupation: Cleric of Grothar

Title: Peace Maker

Overview: Lesalendral is a smart women with a astonishing memory. She is also a great seemstress, and a gifted cleric of Grothar.

Physical appearance: Lesalendral is an even 2 peds in hight and weighs 1.5 pygge. She has white hair that falls to her waist. It is rare for her to wear her hair tied back, even on windy days. Her face would be a perfect replica of how people imagine an elf, fair skin, delicate features, etc. if not for her eyes. Her eyes are slightly bigger than most, and are lilac in color. And even when she laughs they are full of pain and sadness. Most people can't stand to look her in the eyes because they see in them the saddest moments of their lives. Anyways, Lesalendral is slim, but not too skinny. Nice curves, but nothing drastic. She has a tatoo of a cresent moon at the base of her throat. Its not too big.

Clothes: Nothing too fancy here. All she wears is a simple leaf green silk dress. It looks delicate and easily ruined, but she made it herself, it was made to take a lot of harsh use and not even fade. Her shoes are simple boots flat soles like sandles made of leather, go up to just below her knee, and they too are leaf green. The only real fancy thing is a solid silver belt shaped like a vine of ivy. It is thin and flexible, but tough.  It belonged to her mother, who decided to pass it on to her when she started to travel.

Personality: Lesalendral is a very outgoing person. She makes friends easily, and is a good listener. She enjoys talking to people but loves to listen even more. She dislikes fighting, and trys to work things out peacfully if at all possible thus the name Peace Maker. But she is accually a fair marksman, for a mage. But she is also a gifted cleric mage. She is a creative women, and loves make up stories. But under her calm, playful, and carefree attitude is a lot of pain and sadness, though none of its her own. She never shares it with others. She promised her friends she wouldn't tell their dark secrets. But in her eyes it shows, and other see also their own sadness and pain reflected in those lilac eyes.

Clerical Magic: Her faith in Grothar is very strong. How strong is hard to measure, but her faith in herself is not quite as good. It is not very strong, it could use a lot of improvement. She uses her magic very often. In the past she has found that, while few of her prayers have failed to be answered, the ones she has the most exact answer to are ones for small things like lightning and wind, She is a full priest now, but chooses to travel rather then stay in a temple. Her apprenticeship started when she was 30 years old in the main temple of Grothar, in Carmalad. She finally became a full priest after she had spent 35 years in the temple, 18 as an apprentice and 17 more studying to be a priest.

Strengths: She is swift an her feet. And a fast thinker in tough situations. Her familiars are a definite strength, as well as her Clericial magic. She is fair with a bow, but rarely uses it.

Weaknesses: She is terrified of darkness. Her loyalty to her friends can get her into a lot of trouble, because she would do almost anything for them. Her love of peace can get her into trouble as well, because she will always try to work things out peacfully before resorting to fighting. Also, as I said earlier she has little faith in herself, and that effects her cleric magic. While her faith in Grothar is strong she is hesitant to pray for anything bigger than rain, lightning and wind. She thinks she will fail.

History: Lesalendral has a fairly good happy life living in Aer'ylferian. Her family is very rich. She has three brothers, Erien, who is 282, Inerit, who is 319, and Mesoro, who is 393. Her mother is named Lesa, she is 539, and her father is Jamedis, he is 542. Her mother was a seemstress and taught Lesalendral all about it. Lesalendral found she liked to sew because it gaver her hands something to do while she thought about things. She was happy when she found that the things she made were fine enough to sell for good prices. So she use her sewing skills to think and to make money at the same time. Lesalendral has been a gifted cleric for many years now. She dedicated her life to Grothar almost as soon as she was old enough to understand what that ment. Her faith has remained strong ever since then. No matter how many times her prayers fail to be answered, her faith has not wavered. Lesalendral loves to travel. She first left home when she was 30 to start her apprenticship as a cleric of Grothar, and returned home when she was 45. She often travels now, at first useing horses her parents gave her, until, when she was 155, she bought a beautiful Centoraurian horse. He is nor'sidian with snow white main and tail, and a blaze on his on his face only a few shades darker. When she was 156 she found an abandoned Uncil cub and brought it home with her. She had to leave home a year later this time for good, because she wanted to leave the forest and live somewhere she had never been before. Her horse, now named Shadow, and the Uncil, now named Star, both went with her along with some other personal items.

Weapons: She has only one weapon, the only one she can  use. It's a bow, just a simple sturdy recurve bow.

Belongings: Besides normal supplies like food and extra clothes, all she has is her sewing and weaving equiptment. Nothing big, just needles and thread, etc.

Familiars: Her horse Shadow, he goes everywhere with her. Star, her Uncil, never leaves her side. She raised him from shortly after he was born, so now he doesn't need a leash to stay with her, he loves her to much to let her out of his sight even for a few seconds. Bother of her familiares are very protective of her, even a little overprotective sometimes. They do their best to make sure she is safe.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Sammykins on February 21, 2007, 06:36:07 AM
Simply named Sammy


1 1/2 years

Domesticated Mithral (Ilaróls) Wolf

Ilaróls, Nyerismysy's Pet

Physical Appearance
A glisten of silver is the only thing which at first the eye will see when she enters the room. Strong paws propel her forward as her lean muscles ripple beneath her ebony and silver pelt. Sharply angled ears perk forward as she looks at you, bright eyes glistening. Then you notice it... one eye is a deep shade of amber, the other, a milky pale blue. She stands 1 1/2 fores at her strong shoulders and her steps are graceful and slow. Strong muscles ripple beneath her coat much like the ocean waves ripple against the side of a sailing ship.

Sammy stands 1 1/2 fores at the shoulder and weighs a slight 75 od. She glistens silver in the light of day, though her undercoat is actually a deep black and her over coat is made up of empty cylindrical hairs which catch light and give her a glistening silver-white color.

One of Sammy's eyes is deep amber; a bright yellow brown mixture of life. The other is a pale milky blue, almost deathly white. Her face is bright white and beginning half way up her muzzle, between her eyes, is a blackish silver cape which cascades over her skull and covers her back. Only a "V" shaped patch of white rests on her chest, the tips of the "V" resting on her shoulders.

She is very strong and her strong muscles ripple beneath her beautiful pelt. Her paws have soft fur between the pads which help keep her feet warm and her bushy tail sometimes flops over her flank and rests slightly curled upon her hips.

Sammy is a very calm and quiet wolf. She enjoys nothing more than lying by the feet of her master in her master's home while grooming herself with soft strokes of her crimson tongue. She can be very protective and is extremely loyal.

She has, in the past, run with animals of her own kind, however due to her inability to see through one eye, Sammy was often picked on and had to fight to eat. The other wolves sensed her weakness and it was her blind side that they would always attack when feeding, dropping her and pinning her to the ground before she could even fight back. The pack accepted her as long as it was not meal time at which point, even for a completely healthy wolf fights usually broke out over food. During feeding it was to each their own. Needless to say, she did not enjoy the wild much... too much fighting within the pack ranks was not the type of life Sammy wanted. Sammy would much rather live within the company of the two-legged kind where they keep her fed, groomed and warm.

Stamina, Sammy has been wandering for a long time and has, on certain occasions, run all day and night, stopping only for quick drinks of water while she followed prey with her pack.

Sammy has a great sense of smell and can often sense things over a stral away. This helps her to know when things that she possibly would not be able to see, are close to her. Also her sense of hearing is slightly better due to her blindness.

Sammy is first and foremost an animal. She knows how to be a wild wolf though she prefers not to live in the wild. She is quick and pretty agile and has a quick bite, propelled forward by strong jaws and a strong neck.

She can bring large animals down with a bite to the throat and has great stamina in which she has followed animals over long distances until they have grown exhausted enough to bring down.

Sammy somewhat understands what people are saying... at least when they are telling her to do something. Not so much understands but comprehends what they want of her, especially when they use hand gestures and body movement as well. She understands a list of thirteen commands from her Master.

Sammy is blind in her right eye, the eye which is pale blue in color. This sometimes can make it hard in very crowded situations for her to know if someone is coming up on her right side or not. This also makes it hard for her to defend herself if someone attacks her right side suddenly.

Sammy has a somewhat abnormal fear of fire. She gets a little skittish around it and has been known to get completely out of control if forced to be too close to it. Her fear of fire goes far beyond that of a normal animals fear... if the fire is not confined, for example to the hearth of a fireplace, she will get uncontrollable as she tries to get away from it.

Sammy is not overly fast, reaching a maximum speed of approximately 1 league per hour.

Being that she is an animal, her main weakness is the inability to communicate with humans, with anything other than other canines for that matter. She can usually get her point across with the sounds she makes, and with her body movements but she still has no ability to form human words.

Sammy was one of three pups born to a pair of lone wolves in the wild, some 2 leagues outside the fishing village of Parthanul. Her parents were the outcasts of a pack of wolves, having left due to the violence bestowed upon them after the pair attempted to overthrow the ruling alpha pair.

(to some extent yes this does happen... if they are not banished, they are normally subject to becoming such a low rank that they are constantly picked on and will often leave, becoming loners)

Sammy's parents were killed after they raided the fishing village of Parthanul. In the raid, they killed a young Avennorian child of a mere 2 years old. The wolf pup was not there during the hunt as she was still too young, she had remained behind in the den. The Avennorians came within a day, making rounds in the area to be sure there were no more wolves and to protect their family. Luckily Sammy had an insatiable curiosity and had actually wandered out of the den not long before the clan came, so when they set the den on fire she was not within the confines, though she did see it and heard her pup mates scream as the fire licked at their pelts, killing them.

An older Avennorian woman found Sammy outside her den, when A pup still, Sammy was only about 3 months old. The woman knew it was cruel to kill the pup, for a crime it did not commit and the woman also believed Sammy had some magic in her due to the dual colored eyes. The woman tucked Sammy into a bag and took her to her home. This home is where the old woman raised the wolf until she was full grown. The woman's fellow clan mates wanted to kill Sammy when they found out that a wolf was living with the old woman, but the old woman would not hear of it and protected Sammy.

When Sammy was about 9 months old, some of the younger kids within the clan got their hands on her and tied a burning stick to her tail... as she ran the fire licked at her hind quarters, fed by the air as her lean body ran through it. To this day she is still scared of fire unless it is controlled and when the old woman died, Sammy left the clan as she instinctively feared for her life.

While Sammy was domesticated, she had always still had the hunting instinct and had remained slightly territorial, becoming a great "watch" dog for the woman, watching over her carefully. Sammy lived with the old woman until she was about 1 year and 2 months old. When the old woman died Sammy ran into the forest and found solace within a pack of wild wolves... but she never truly fit in. She hunted with them, killed, ate, drank with them but she was never really one of them. She had been raised as a pet and she knew she would always be one. She preferred to be comfortable and did not like having to hunt and kill to eat... she did not like having to dig a hole in the snow for warmth... did not like having to spend hours grooming herself with her tongue to become clean.

So not long after coming into the wolf pack, she left... Now she is in Voldar. She has since been staying with Nyerismysys as his faithful pet and companion after coming across him within the city limits and following him home in desperation for a good meal. Nyerismysys, though he does not know about her past seems to understand the wolf and seems to have the ability to keep her calm around people and fire.

Sammy normally stays by Nyerismysys' side at all times, though there are times that Nyerismysys does not bring the wolf with him to meetings, and she remains back in his room alone.

Teeth and claws

A simple leather collar with her name burned into it.

Commands Sammy Understands

All of these are understood in both spoken tongue and in non verbal hand communication.

Down - Lay down
Sneak-Down but crawling forward
Speak- Bark
Sing- Howl
Up- Sitting up on her hind quarters
Dance- walk on her hind legs, though she only can do so for a minute or two, if someone holds her forepaws as if dancing with her, she can perform this trick for a little bit longer.

Title: Morghan Nichole
Post by: Morghan Nichole on February 22, 2007, 02:52:17 AM
Ezboard Msngr is the best- Email is

Name- Morghan Nichole
Gender- Female
Race- Human
Heritage- Father- Ordian Tribe/Mother- Zarathian Tribe
Occupation- Servant
Title- Christian's Mute Servant



Standing 1 and 3/4 ped with deep grayish/green eyes and soft tan skin Morghan definitely takes after both her parents. She has long soft brown hair which hangs to her knees and in the summer, when the sun is upon her often, appears to lighten to a paler almost blond color.

Morghan is slender but strong, tight muscles align her body, rippling beneath her tan skin. She often keeps her hair loose, except for two strands, one on each side of her face, that are wrapped with leather and hang freely.


Morghan wears a deerskin tank top dress and has a cloaked elk fur, that her father gave her, that she will wrap herself up in when it is cold.


Morghan is obviously very quiet. She can be considered a watcher. When you look at her you can tell she is absorbing everything going on around her.

She tends not to bring too much attention to herself and actually will attempt to get out of eyesight if possible.

However, she is now over coming her recluse like nature and heading to a kingdom to look for work as a servant, or blacksmith, or something... anything.

Morghan tends to avoid situations where people will learn too much about her... She avoids letting people know she is mute if she can because she does not like being treated the way they treat her, as if she is handicapped for she isnt.

Morghan also occassionally seems to get frustrated though there is nothing near her to get frustrated with. In honesty she is getting frustrated with her "demon," her calico cat- imaginary friend. She sometimes swats at it, which would make her appear to be swatting at the air as there is actually nothing there.


Her father taught her how to throw daggers.

While she is completly mute, Morghan is very intelligent and easily understands what people are saying.

Morghan has an odd ability to communicate with animals. Her communication is obviously not verbal, but a sort of mental link which seems to feed off emotions and instincts. There is no true form of communication passed between Morghan and an animal it is more like the animal will trust Morghan because it can sense her weakness, and animals tend to not consider her a threat. Though, prey animals are always cautious around her regardless of her appearent trustworthy nature.


Morghan is unable to speak, matched with her inability to write it is very hard for her to get her point across to people when she is trying to tell them something, or ask for something. Because of this she tends to get a little frustrated with herself and her inability to communicate. She hates the fact that she is uneducated and so she will often just give up if trying to communicate with someone rather than keep trying.

Morghan tends to assume that animals will trust her and let her come up to them all the time. She has gotten into trouble because of this and has almost lost fingers when trying to go up to a strange dog once or twice.

Morghan is somewhat snotty. She tends to judge books by their covers so to say. She doesn't tend to give people a chance if they don't seem like they will be very useful to her. She is looking for work and if she comes across someone who doesn't seem like they can help her find it, she most likely will just pass them by.


Morghan's parents met while her father was visiting the second largest port city of Aeruillin, Shan’Zarathan, to trade with the people of the city. Dahlia, Morghan's mother was with her parents as the were trading with Zularus' tribe when they met. Dahlia was 17, Zularus was 30. It seemed to be love at first sight, but ended up being nothing more than a one night stand. Zularus left the next day, and Dahlia never saw him again.

Zularus never knew he was to be a father and when Dahlia began showing her parents sent her "away" to avoid questions about her growing belly, though she never really went anywhere, she simply was locked in their home without the chance to go anywhere or do anything. Morghan was born 9 months later and whisked away from her mother and sold to a somewhat wealthy gentleman and his wife who had traveled from overseas to trade.

Tanal and Beatrice brought Morghan to a quiet home, overseas in their small village of Yar'Dangs, and when she was a few months old they realized she never made any noise. They thought perhaps she was just a happy, quiet baby but when other babies were normally screaming, Morghan made the motions of crying but never made a sound.

As Morghan grew she remained eternally silent. Never speaking a first word, never crying. Tanal and Beatrice took her to a healer who said she was mute. While she heard everything, was not deaf, she could not speak a word or make a sound.

Tanal, who was an educated man by the normal standards of households throughout Santharia taught Morghan many things as she grew, he began teaching her how to write, and how to read to help her jump the gap they had with her inability to speak. Tanal taught Morghan how to hunt with daggers, how to skin meat and how to cook it upon an open fire. He also taught her how to preserve the meat in salt and ice as well as how to make clothing out of the skins of deer and such. Tanal was not over adept at hunting and things of that nature, but he was familiur with the general ways of doing such things, as he did run his own household and had his own family to take care of. Tanal taught Morghan how to use a dagger and often promised to teach her how to use a sword but he never got around to it...

When Morghan was 7 years old Tanal was killed by a group of raiders as Beatrice and Morghan hid. When they found him they were both very aggrieved. Morghan had not gotten very far into her learning of how to read and write and considers herself uneducated because of it. She can understand what people are saying, but never has a reply.

After a few years Beatrice was wooed by another man named Garous. Unlike Tanal, Garous was a mean angry man. Once in the relationship with Garous, Beatrice was afraid to get out and ended up marrying him. Garous took Beatrice and Morghan from their home, moving them just outside the shivering woods where he built them a new home and told them to forget everything about their past. Garous made Morghan his personal slave, forcing her to make his meals and even, when he was feeling particularly cruel, making her feed him else she would get a whipping. Beatrice tried to protect Morghan, but when she did, Garous would turn his wrath on her, eventually Beatrice stopped trying to protect Morghan.

When Morghan was 16, Garous laid his hands upon her for the last time. Morghan pulled a dagger on him, leaving a deep gash in his side. Morghan was promptly promised to one of Garous' friends, to be his wife and servant, in exchange for some land. Morghan bolted and never turned back, leaving her home in the middle of the night so as not to be seen. Ever since she has been on her own. Eating whatever she can catch in the forests.

Morghan has wandered through the Shivering Woods, through the High and Low Fores and through the Heath of Jernais. During her travels she has often heard that Voldar is one of the most influential cities in all of Santharia and so she has heading that way, hoping to become a servant in a comfortable household, if not an influential one.


Her dagger which is made from thick, strong steel. The Dagger is silver-gray in color and has a solitary gemstone in the handle. The dagger was a family heirloom, passed down to her from Tanal. It has been in Tanal's family for many centuries and was probably the "richest" thing he owned.

The top three points of an elk's antler which she can use to stab someone. She has had no training in using such an item, but she found it while in the forest and kept it.


The clothes on her back and her weapons. She also has a  deerskin pouch on her hip and she carries with her a heavy cloaked elk fur at all times. It is her main source of heat unless she is camped for the night and makes a fire.


Though Morghan does not have a permanent familiar, she can be seen often with animals. She seems to have a way with them though she obviously can not speak to them through any means. Morghan thinks the animals can just sense her weakness and so tend to be calm and gentle with her, though she has not really been around any dangerous animals, mainly horses and other domesticated beasts.

She also has what she calls her demon as explained in personality, though she is the only one who knows about it.

Where she is now...

Morghan is outside Zocharras' Gate in Nyermersis. She has been wandering a long time and has come to Nyermersis to see if she can find work. She knows her chances are slim as she is of no importance and can not even speak or write her request but if you don't try, you will never know.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Alassiel Telrúnya on March 23, 2007, 04:31:54 AM
Contact info:

Name: Alassiel Telrúnya
Gender: Female
Age: 75
Race: Elf
Tribe: Ak’váth’rhím (But adopted into the Injerín)
Hair Color: Jet Black
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Weight: 1 pygge, 3 hebs, 1 hafeb
Height: 1 ped, 9 palmspans
Occupation: Singer-songwriter, Artist
Title: Temperamental Bard
Character Portrait:

Physical Appearance and Clothes
Alassiel has a heart-shaped face, silky jet black hair and very dark brown almond-shaped eyes, which appear to be black at first glance. Her eyes usually have a twinkle, which can quickly become a dangerous glint, and they always seem to look alert and wide awake. She has a small, delicate nose and mouth, and her K-9 teeth are more noticeable than most.

It is rare to see her dressed fancily, as she only dresses up on very special occasions. She can usually be seen wearing simple bright purple gowns, which are suited for outdoor activity, and soft brown leather boots. She usually wears her long hair down loose, but sometimes she ties it up in a single ponytail to keep it out of the way when she is working. She can be identified by a long multi-colored feather earring in her right ear, or the arm band she wears with lavender feathers dangling from it.

The origin of Alassiel’s attachment to feathers goes back to when she was a young child. Her foster-parents didn’t let her have a pet, claiming that she was too irresponsible to take care of one. As a result, she took to collecting feathers to make up for not having a pet. She dyed most of them purple, which was her favourite color. The habit stuck with her until adulthood, when she decided that collecting feathers was silly; but she didn’t want to just throw them away. So instead, she used the feathers for jewelry, and always has them with her.

Alassiel sings, sketches, and composes songs for a living, but also for the joy of it. She loves all animals, with the exception of insects, which she considers pests. Although she may not know the languages of most animals, she always seems to get on exceptionally well with them. But the animal she loves the most is the cat, be it wild or domesticated. She is particularly drawn to them, although she does not know why.

Alassiel is always loyal to her friends. She is good with weapons, and learns very quickly, which means she also has no problem learning other languages. She is really sociable, as well as readable; one can almost immediately tell at first glance how she is feeling, which may or may not be a good thing, since she is quite temperamental, very self-conscious, and easily embarrassed.

However, she can be extremely stubborn or brash. Often saying things which weren’t meant to be voiced, which often causes her tongue to lash out at the one who annoyed her, although she may regret it later. She is very picky on food and not very willing to try new things, which would often cause problems when she eats as a guest in other people’s homes. Also, she is fairly vain; yet that doesn’t necessarily mean that she likes to cover herself from head to toe in fancy clothing, or boast to her friends about her achievements.

Alassiel is a bit of a feminist. When there are things like tournaments around, she likes to offer her support to the contestant whom she thinks will win, and she usually chooses a female, unless there are no females to support. She doesn't deny that males have talent as well, but she always instinctively takes the women's side.

Alassiel is only superstitious on the topic of names. Although she is not married, she has planned names for possible future offspring for many years. She believes that names determine a child's personality. For example, if she meets a girl who suffers from a terrible sickness, she would make a mental note not to give that girl's name to any of her future children. This idea was influenced by no one, but was one of her imaginative theories.

Alassiel is attracted to 'trinkets'; she loves anything which is pretty, glittery, shiny, and delicate. She usually goes for small items, small enough to keep in her pockets, as she thinks that most big and bulky items are a nuisance to carry around.

•   She is naturally sociable with a tendency to forgive anyone who offends her within a short amount of time. That way, she has more friends than enemies.
•   Her ability to think fast can be used against enemies in combat.
•   She knows quite a few languages other than Tharian and Styrásh which could prove useful when trying to communicate with others (she has learnt Thergerim, Kuglimz'Seitre, Mermish and Brownin, but she is less fluent with Mermish).
•   She is always good to her friends, whether she is angry or not. Unless, it is the friend who made her angry in the first place. Peace comes faster.
•   When she starts working, nothing, not even meals, can stop her from finishing the work (she normally gets frustrated when she has to leave her work to eat, and she starts to think of meals as pests). Her determination could save her life one day.
•   She can remember everything she wants to remember, so she would have no trouble remembering a face, or important events.
•   Her extraordinary skill with her longbow and her armored fan makes her one to be reckoned with.

•   Her temper, which causes many fall-outs between her and others.
•   She is terrible at most physical activities, which would not help when up against the enemy.
•   When she does a job, she does it well…unless she loses interest or gets distracted.
•   Sometimes she has a temptation to choose reputation and appearance over her friends, and she risks losing her friends and being seen as selfish.
•   One has to try hard to actually get her to work, and laziness is not good.
•   Her tendency to wriggle out of work could one day be used against her.
•   Her strong fear of ogres could lead to terrible consequences if she had to deal with one in the future.

Alassiel was originally born into the Ak’váth’rhím tribe, but then was transported into the Shaded Forest and left in a few bushes to die. She was only a few months old. She does not mind being asked about why she was abandoned. She would truthfully say that she does not know what the reason for her abandonment was, but she thinks the most likely reason was because her mother didn’t want her.

When an elven Injerín couple found her, she was close to death, and barely breathing. They took pity on her, in spite of her obviously being of dark elf flesh and blood, bringing her into their home in Lýlei’Soulá. They adopted her, named her Alassiel, and raised her as their own. Alassiel's father was a successful merchant, although not one of the richest. Alassiel grew up an Injerín, and the only indication that she is not of Injerín origin is her appearance.

Twenty years after Alassiel was found, Alassiel's foster-father, Luthien, was on business in Southern Sarvonia when he saw a young girl stumbling, almost blindly, towards him. She was covered in dirt and her face was tear-stained, and she looked exhausted. She was of the Tethinrhim tribe, noted from the tattoo on her left arm.

He questioned her, not unkindly, about why she was in such a state. He learned that her name was Seh'nara, and she was trying to find her way home. She had been crossing a wide river in a boat with her parents when something had gone horribly wrong and they had started to sink. Seh'nara's mother had been quickly swept away in the current. Her father had managed to swim to safety, keeping a firm hold on Seh'nara. He had told her to wait until he came back with her mother. Then he had jumped back into the river, and that was the last time Seh'nara ever saw him alive.

She had taken a long time to finally acknowledge that both her parents were dead. When she did, she tried to find her way home. Unfortunately, she did not know the way back. She spent days wandering around, and she was about to collapse with the effort, when she saw Luthien. He looked like someone who could help her, and she decided that she had nothing to lose if he couldn't. So she stumbled over to him.

Luthien's heart went out to the girl, and he brought her home with him. Seh'nara was the same age as Alassiel, but because the Tethinrhim aged slower than the Ak’váth’rhím, Seh'nara was physically and psychologically the younger of the two. When Alassiel was first introduced to Seh'nara, she gave her a warm welcome, saying that she had always wanted a sister. Alassiel and Seh'nara soon grew to really close to each other.

From a young age, Alassiel took an interest in singing; her foster-parents would gently encourage her, but they always corrected her when she went wrong and gave her their opinions on the various songs she composed. When she got older, she became a student of the Bard School Féarn’teloría. After several years, she decided to take a short break, if a few years could be considered short. She then began to wander around singing for anyone who would listen and selling her sketches.

Earlier in Alassiel’s life, her foster-father, who was an artist, saw her potential in art and gave her informal lessons. She got better and better at art, sketching in particular. She attended a good, but not very well known art school. However, she soon dropped out, as she tired of it. She lost interest and became restless, longing to be off traveling. Now she just sketches as a hobby, but sells them to anyone who is ‘stupid enough’, in her opinion, to like it.

During her 'break', she gradually became known for her temper as well as her voice, earning the title of Telrúnya the Temperamental. Whenever she was seen striding about fuming with a dark expression, many would scuttle out of her way, for fear that her tongue would be unleashed on them. But they did enjoy the songs she would later sing in her room to calm herself down. She is very sensitive, and would often take offence to something someone had said which had been meant as a joke.

Although Alassiel took a break from the Bard School, she continued learning; except what she was learning did not have much to do with sing. She started learning languages. As she travelled, she met all sorts of people. She was keen on languages, so she decided to try and learn as many as possible. She perservered until she knew fluent Thergerim, Kuglimz'Seitre and Brownin (although she had to try particularly hard to find someone to teach her Brownin, she succeeded in the end). Then only did she relax and did not try as hard for Mermish.

If someone asked her why she has such a hot temper, she would just shrug and say that when she is annoyed at someone. She feels like she would say anything to stop that person doing whatever it was to annoy her. Annoying actions are minor things such as someone talking to her while she is reading. And it is true that she has very little control over her tongue. The words come flying out, and she cannot stop the flow until it is too late.

Alassiel has done nothing truly outstanding or spectacular in her life so far, since she prefers to feel mostly on the safe side, (but not totally unexposed to danger; She can be a bit of a risk taker), and she tries not to look for adventure; but if one unexpectedly comes her way, then she would not be the one to try to stop it.

Alassiel is very skillful with her weapons, a longbow and an armored fan. Her parents were very 'enthusiastic', as she likes to put it, about her training. In fact, they were so enthusiastic that they had her practicing with the longbow as soon as she could hold the weapon without dropping it. As a result, she got very good, and she still rises early every day to practice with it.

As for the armored fan, it was only recently given to her as a gift from her friend, Phoenix, who is a dancer. Alassiel met Phoenix when stumbling across an unpleasant scene where a few rough men were harassing the dancer. Telrúnya the Temperamental took over, and only after she had the men cowering from her tongue, did she let them go. Phoenix became one of her closest friends, and bought her the armored fan out of gratitude. Alassiel soon learnt how to use it, and it is even said that she favors the armored fan over her longbow.

Alassiel has a familiar; a cat named Fern. Alassiel found Fern as a kitten in a quiet part of the Shaded Forest. She was lying in the forest ferns (that was how she got her name), struggling to breathe. Her mother was not in sight, and it was unlikely that she was coming back, seeing as Fern was not in a litter, but by herself. Alassiel could not bear to see Fern abandoned as she had been, so she adopted Fern, in spite of her foster-parents’ protests. Fern recovered, is now in the pink of health and has stayed with Alassiel ever since.

Belongings and Weapons
Alassiel does not like burdening herself with too many things. In her opinion, bags were a burden. If she brings too many belongings, she tends to lose them in a couple of weeks anyway, and she wastes her money buying them again if they were precious or useful, so she makes sure that she will always have a few secret pockets in her clothes to carry her ‘trinkets’ in. But currently, she just has her silver mirror, which was the very first item she purchased as soon as she started earning her own money, her purse consisting of all her money and a book of blank paper for sketching. For weapons, Alassiel has a longbow and an armored fan. Alassiel's only visible possession is her longbow.

It is thought that Fern is Brendolian, since she certainly acts and looks nearly like one. However, the star shaped mark on her chest and tiger-striped tail is very unique, so she might only be half Brendolian. She has snow-white fur, apart from the black star-shaped mark on her chest, light green eyes and the black tiger-stripes on her unusually long tail.

Fern never seems to age, physically or mentally, although she has been with Alassiel for many years, so many years that Alassiel has lost count. She has taken to draping herself around Alassiel’s shoulders, and appears to understand what she says to her, but whether Fern truly does understand, Alassiel is not sure.

Many people would think that having an animal to care for would be a nuisance, but on the contrary, Alassiel likes having Fern around. She is very good company, and loves the attention she gives her. Alassiel is sure Fern sees herself not as a pet, but as a companion. She eats whatever she can find in the taverns Alassiel performs in. As they travel from one place to another, she likes to ride on her companion’s shoulders with an air of superiority, but as soon as they arrive, she would immediately jump down and wander off, but never fails to find Alassiel, wherever she is, if she wants attention.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: patt0192 on April 02, 2007, 12:41:38 AM
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Here is my email;

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Seh'nara Celebrindal on April 08, 2007, 12:22:10 AM
Name: Seh’nara Celebrindal

Gender: Female

Age: 119  (25 human years)

Race: Elf

Tribe: Tethinrhim/Injerín (Is Tethinrhim but got adopted into the Injerín after her parents' death)

Hair Colour: Copper

Eye Colour: Hazel

Weight: 1 pygge, 7 hebs

Height: 1 ped, 9 palmspans, 5 nailsbreadths

Occupation: Ranger

Title: Swift Ranger

Physical Appearance And Clothes
Seh’nara has a slightly oval face and soft copper hair, which has grown a little past her shoulders. She also has large hazel eyes. Her eyes are unreadable but when she is especially angry, they will turn into blazing infernos.(Figuratively, of course.) Her most prominent feature is a black rose tattoo cutting through the right eye. She got that tattoo on a whim, thinking that it would look good on her. It did.

Usually, you will see her in brown pants and green shirts with a utility belt. The only time she dresses up is when it’s a must. Although she lives in a peaceful village, she always has her Scourge slung around her body easily reachable, “just in case” as she always says.

She prefers her hair to be let down, but if she has to, she will tie it up in wind braids. She has one earhole, and the earring that she wears is usually a string braid with a fang hanging from it that her mother gave to her for her 10th birthday. Around her neck is a ruby locket that her father gave her with portraits of him, her mother and one family portrait. This is her most treasured possession and when she is feeling down, she will look at her parents’ strong and gentle gazes. That always makes her feel better.

Seh’nara is a shrewd person. Because she had to grow up prematurely, she gained a sense of cunningness to survive. To survive, she learnt, is to not let others know what you know, let them know only what they need to think that you know nothing. Although that particular trait has saved her from trouble, it had also gotten her into trouble.

Often, even if she’s angry, she does not show her temper, but it does not mean that she does not have one. The only sign that she is angry is that her eyes will suddenly gain a burning quality and if she looks at you, her gaze will be so piercing that many will turn away. Rarely will she "blow up" as she prefers to keep things non-violent.

Being naturally sociable, she finds it easy to make friends but she finds it hard to trust them completely. Anyone can be her friend, but to gain her complete trust is more difficult. If she gives you her trust and true friendship, and you break the trust and ruin the friendship, she will find it very hard to trust you again. She can hold a grudge for a very long time, depending on her disposition towards you. If she is holding a grudge against you, be prepared for aloofness, contempt and coldness. Rarely will she forgive a person just because a period of time has gone by, and if she does, count yourself lucky.

She sometimes can be a loner and at those times, will allow only Silver, her Ashmarian Wolf, to be with her. Sometimes she will also disappear for long periods at a time, and no one has succeeded in figuring out where she goes. She has an explosive laugh which can startle  people, and she also possesses a great sense of humor, though she doesn’t show it.

Often, you will see her walking around town, just staring into space, or you can find her in the orphanage, playing with the children. They remind her of herself, because they also do not have parents.

   She’s a superb fighter and can make a weapon out of almost anything at hand, though she may not be proficient with any object unlike her Scrouge. She also improvises well and fast.
   Her senses are very acute and rarely will anything escape her sharp ears and eyes.
She is more agile and quicker than most.
   Her hands are firm, and she has plenty of experience pickpocketing, lockpicking, and moving in the shadows. These skills come in handy in tight situations.
   Her knowledge of herbs and plants is extensive, and she never hesitates to use it. It has helped her when she was badly injured while hunting solo in her youth. She had soptted and recognised a patch of plants that had healing properties. Said injury is also the cause of her cramps.
 She is proficient with short blades such as daggers, though she is not the best.

   She can be too confident at times and may bite off more than she can chew, thus getting herself into trouble.
   When she becomes really angry, her anger blinds her to anything and everything and she will not listen to reason.
   When she is sleepy, she tends to get reckless. At times like that, she would jump where others would go around. That has got her into trouble a lot of times.
 She gets angry if you wake her up too early, and may attack the person who awakened her. She needs 7 1/2 hours of sleep to keep her cool.
 She can get really obnoxious when she’s stressed, and says all the wrong things, usually to the wrong person. This has also gotten her into no end of trouble, and has even gotten her thrown out of a city once.
 She is prone to leg cramps because of a injury she had when she was young. Those cramps crop up at the most unlikely (and inconvenient) times, like in the middle of a fight.
Often, she has vivid nightmares that comes from the day her parents died. When she wakes up, she is especially vunerable and is physically and mentally weak.

Seh’nara was a normal elf, and being born into the Tethinrhim tribe, she was raised amongst her own kind. Although her tribe does not encourage public affection, her parents always felt that children should be showered with love and concern, so they always praised her and encouraged her in whatever she did. During her youth, she was unusually gifted. Her hands were deft, her feet quick. In fighting, she has this uncanny ability to vaguely sense what the enemy will do next. If she is stuck in any way, be it climbing, swimming or fighting, she improvises fast and quick and gets out of the situation safely. This made her one of the best in physical activities.  She is skilled in herbal law, hunting, fishing and foresting as she was trained in all of these aspects. She also spent most of her free time training with her Scrouge.

She was 20 years old when she got her tattoo. She just had a fight with her parents, and was taking a walk in the surrounding area to cool down when she saw a little boy crouching down, looking at a rose. Curious, she asked the boy," What are you doing?" The boy answered, "I'm taking care of this rose. My mother told me that she likes roses, so when this rose is big, I'm going to give it to her." Seh'nara was touched that such a young boy could be so filial, and as she walked back she reflected on her behaviour. She was ashamed that she shouted at her parents over a small matter. So, on a whim, she decided to get her rose tattoo, partly because she thought that it would look good on her, and mostly because she wanted to remind herself of the boy's filial piety.

At 30 years old, she went out hunting solo. She was tracking some deer somewhere north of her home when a bear started to go on a rampage, with her in its path. She fought bravely, and finally defeated the bear. It was a really close call, and she sustained several serious injuries. While she was on the ground, nearly unconscious with pain, she soptted a patch of plants that she knew could heal her. Crawling over, she quickly consumed the plants with some water and promptly fell asleep. By then the search party had found her and brought her home. Her wounds were treated and healed, but as a side effect, she frequently had leg cramps after that.

When she was about 112 years old after she joined the Injerín (around 22 human years), she saw a male Ashmarian Wolf cub with a trader while on her travels. As the cub was weak and scrawny, the trader had wanted to kill it. Her heart went out to the cub and she brought it home. She named it Silver because of the colouring of its fur and he has been with her ever since.

She had lived her childhood in the Anturian Forest and wanted to become a Kaierian Warrior but sadly, her dreams was crushed by her parents death. One day she thought she had seen a Unicorn on the opposite bank of a lake and she wanted to check it out. Later on, she was convinced that all she saw was an ordinary horse so the guilt was increased. Her parents, wanting to humor her, had agreed to row her over to the other shore. Halfway into the river, something went wrong with the boat and there was a hole in the hull. Her mother had been swept away by the current but her father managed to get Seh’nara and himself to shore.

Putting her into a safe spot, he told her to wait for him. With that, he jumped into the river and that was the last time Seh’nara had seen him alive. Having waited for a few hours, she fell asleep and after waking up, she started to go downstream in hopes of finding her parents holed up under a tree somewhere, but no such luck. While searching, she was found by a search party who was looking for her and her parents. After learning of her missing parents, the search party helped Seh'nara look for 3 days, but to no avail. The search party then wanted to go back, but Seh'nara was determined to at least find out what happened to them, so she continued on her own. After searching for another 2 days, she finally found her mother's bracelet half buried in the ground. Then, she accepted the inevitable. She wanted to go back, but felt that she was the cause of her parents' death and did not dare.

After wandering around for a little while, hunger had gotten hold of her, and after failing to find any food, she resorted to stealing from a travelling caravan. That was the first time she had ever stolen. Over the course of the next few months, she stole constantly to feed herself and Silver, for the faithful animal had found her. She continued with this lifestyle until she saw Luthien. He had come to South Sarvonia to trade. Exhausted, she stumbled over to him, and after some gentle questioning, he found out about her recent past and decided to adopt her.

Thus began her new life with the Injerín. Although the hurt for her parents’ death slowly numbed, the guilt had never quite gone away. Also, the pain and grief she felt made her feel that she was not worthy for the status as a Kaierian Warrior. When Luthien brought her back, another adopted girl, Alassiel, warmly welcomed Seh’nara as a sister. They soon became the best of friends, and Alassiel was one of the first Seh'nara truly trusted.

Despite the fact that they were of the same age, Seh'nara was physically and mentally the younger one. That arrangement worked fine because Seh'nara was content with being the younger one and secretly had always wanted an older sister. Although Luthien gave Seh’nara the choice of learning performing arts as an occupation, she refused, because she preferred to hunt or fish outdoors instead of being “stuck inside a stuffy room with no way of escaping learning how to sing ‘La la la’ properly”. Despite that, she started to learn the flute to occupy herself in her free time. Because she is a Ranger, she travels often, and reccently went back to South Sarvonia. Now, her main purpose in life is to see the world, make new friends, experience new cultures and maybe gather enough courage to go back and try to become a Kaierian Warrior.

Belongings and Weapons
Seh’nara dislikes things that will occupy one or both of her hands. She prefers to just carry everything in her belt. Her weapons consist of her Scourge, and two daggers which she reccently learnt how to double wield.  Always present on her body no matter what is her fang earring and ruby locket. She keeps some lockpicks in her belt and some money. She also has one w'aer kept in the handle of her Scrouge just in case she needs it.

Silver is a male Ashmarian Wolf and has been with Seh’nara since she rescued him. Although he was weak when Seh’nara found him, he has become a strong wolf under her loving care. Seh’nara brushes his fur everyday and it is sleek and smooth. He got his name from the unusual colouring of his fur. His head to his midsection is completely black, then it fades to silver and finally turning into white. Silver is usually silent and rarely makes a sound normally unless he’s playing with people. When he growls, it means that danger is eminent, but not that near. But if he barks, it means that danger is almost on top of them. He is very gentle with children and playful too.

Silver has never forgotten how she had saved him form certain death by the trader and is extremely loyal and protective of Seh’nara and would do anything for her, even dying. The same goes for Seh’nara, and the bond they have is strong and unbreakable. When they travel, he either scouts in front or walks beside her. Often, Seh’nara talks to Silver as if he was one of her kind, and in fact, Seh’nara swears that he is as intelligent as her. They are inseparable, and you never see one without the other.

Sorry this is so late.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Tzilon Ikara on April 09, 2007, 12:56:43 PM

AIM: thelordfoxy

Meet Tizi...

Name: Tzilon I'kara (pronounced SIGH-lon eh-KAR-ah)

Gender: Male

Age: 30

Race: Human

Tribe: Epheronian

Occupation: Wolf's Head (bandit)

Title: the Dragonslayer (This is a hereditary title, passed on to the first born Ikara males.  According to legend, the family patriarch, Jorge Ikara, killed a great wyrm during the Dragonstorm.  This story was never verified.)

Overview: Tzilon is a generally good, honest man, yet he is emontionally unbalanced from his past.  He is an able fighter with the sword and gifted with the bow, but his greatest weapon is his will, and once he has decided to help someone, only death can stop him.

Physical Appearance: Tzilon is thin, and has a slightly muscular build.  He is just under 2 peds, an weighs one and a half pygges.  His long hair is grey, and has been all his life.  Tzilon's eyes are green, and have the "piercing" look common in most Erpheronians.  His most remarkable feature is a scar that runs from a little above his eye to down past his cheekbone.

Clothing: Tzilon wears a loose fitting tunic that connects in the front, and the cow-leather pants of the Epheronian lower class.  Over this, however, he wears a dark red (almost brown) cloak, with the Epheronian phoenix emblazoned on the back.

Personality: Tzilon can be charming, yet vicious when provoked; outgoing, yet never truly open; noble, yet petty, when it comes to dealing with officials and those in athourity.  He is generally kind to most people, yet can hold very strong grudges towards those who have hurt him, which makes him slightly bitter and caustic.  He is extremely strong-willed, which comes from having to fend for himself most of his life.  Even though he may not realize it, he is searching for a home, and true love.

Strengths: Tzilon is a able swordsman; however, his strength lies with the bow.  Self-taught, this skill places him above and beyond the other men of his hometown.  Like most people of rougish occupation, Tzilon is a master of stealth and evasion, and normally will employ this skill rather than direct combat.  He also is a natural-born actor, which sometimes leads him to take jobs as a flimflammer, or con-man.  Although it may not be readily obvious, he does strive to be honest and true in his actions.  He has a natural cleverness that allows him to see the best action to take when in a tight spot.

Weaknesses: Tzilon tends to shut people out before they get to close, and has a hard time trusting anyone.  Becaue of his tendency to hold grudges, his actions sometimes are illogical, and he loses many a potential ally.  Also, his vision is next to nothing in his left eye, due to the wound recieved there.  This is a hinderance in close-range fighting, as someone could easily sneak up on that side of him.  Because of his history as a bandit, he has a hard time finding honest occupation.

In the village of Emryden, a child was born to Silas and Miaela Ikara.  The child was unexpected; the Ikaras never planned to have a child, nor wished to.  They gave their son the name Tzilon, and, along with life, was one of the few things they ever gave to him.

At the time of Tzilon's birth, Silas was a prominent merchant in Emryden, and a member of the town's council.  His wife, Miaela, was also a busy and respected woman, and worked as Silas' chief assistant, her brilliant mathmatical mind making her a invaluble help to her husband.  The greater their buisness grew, however, the more neglected their child became.  Tzilon was passed to countless caretakers as the his parent's ventures became more frequent.

When Tzilon was eleven years old, Miaela contracted an unknown disease while on a buisness trip abroad.  Silas did everything he could for his wife, but he was helpless, and watched his life-partner slowy waste away.  When the disease had entered the final stages, Miaela had her son brought to her.  Half-crazed with pain, she screamed curses at Tzilon, blaming him for her sickness.  The terrified child started to slowly back away, but she flung out her unkempt hand, her finger raking down across his eye.  From that day onward, Tzilon Ikara retained a scar across his eye, and the memory of his mother's madness in his heart. 

Two weeks later, Miaela Ikara was pronounced dead.  Silas was hardened by his grief, and threw himself completely into his buisness, ignoring his son more than ever.  When Tzilon turned thirteen, Silas was elected to the office Mayor of Emryden.  He was intending to send Tzilon away to a far-off school, where he needed to have nothing more to do with him than monetary support; however, Tzilon's grandfather, Kerl, intervened.

Kerl Jojal was a Dalorin priest who had traveled with his coven to Emryden when news reached him of his daughter's sickness.  Although he arrived too late to be of any help to her, he was able to prevent Tzilon's further castration from his family.  He took the young man with him as he left the town, and raised him to manhood, giving him a sense of truth and justice.  Although he tried his best, he never seemed to instill in Tzilon a love for academics, or even the healing arts.

Eventually, Kerl realized that the Dalorin sect was not the place for the young man, and realized he could do no more for him.  On Tzilon's twentieth birthday, his grandfather sent him out into the world to find his own home.  He wandered from town to town, developing his emerging skills, especially with archery (which he had loved since he was a child).

After fifteen years spent away from Emryden, he finally returned, but not to stay.  Tzilon had gone there for one thing: the family's hereditary title of Dragonslayer.  He could no longer bear the thought that his father carried the noble name; his father, who had neglected and never cared for him, a man who had fixed himself in Tzilon's mind as one of the most cruel and heartless man in Santharia.  Whether this was the truth or not, he was determined to steal the Parchment of Titlement, and make the Dragonslayer name his own.

Tzilon arrived in Emryden in the dead of the night, when all the city was asleep, save the city watch and a handfull of revelers.  The memories of the city flooded back to him, some melencholy, some painful.  He resolve stregthed him, and, blocking out these thoughts (as he had become so skilled at), he went about his work.  Making his way to the old Ikara mansion, he left his horse outside, slowly and quietly scaled the wall, and finally entered his father's study.  He crept to the corner of the room, where there sat a tall vase that had not moved for as long as he could remember.  Reaching in, he clutched the old, worn parchment, and drew it from its resting place.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps running down the hallway, shouting.  Tzilon sprinted toward the window, climbed down the rope he had left there, and jumped on his horse.  But before he had gone far, a small twinge in his heart caused him to turn around and look at the window he had just left.  There was an old man standing there, and with a start, Tzilon realized it was his father.  But the deed had been done, and the thinking about the past would only make things worse.  Regaining his focus, he wheeled the horse back toward the town gates, and rode of to other places, believing that the past was now far behind him. 

Alhough Tzilon believes he lives in search of adventure, a time is coming soon when the past will catch up with him, and he will have to make a decision about love, where he belongs, and reconciliation with history...

Weapons:  Bow and Epheronian Broadsword

Belongings: Parchment declaring Jorge Ikara and his decsendents to hold the title of Dragoslayer

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Phoenix Calista on April 16, 2007, 10:46:31 PM

Name: Phoenix Calista
Gender: Female
Age: 90
Race: Elf
Tribe: Quaelhoirhim
Eye Color: Violet
Hair Color: Honey brown
Height: 1 ped, 8 palmspans
Weight: 1 pygge, 3 hebs
Occupation: Fire-eater
Title: Phoenix of Fire
Character Portrait:

Physical Appearance and Clothes:
Phoenix can be considered beautiful, but not in the usual way. She has a lovely bronzed complexion, her lips are full, and she has a perfectly shaped nose. But the features which people remember are her eyes. They are a sparkling violet, and are very expressive. When she smiles, her eyes make you feel as though she really likes you, although she may loathe you in reality. Her eyes smile, though her mouth may not; there always seems to be a hidden light in them.

Phoenix can be seen wearing a lot of jewelry when performing in front of an audience, but always manages to make it seem like just the right amount. Lavender face paint and small gem stones decorate her face, and her curly hair cascades over her shoulders, long enough to reach the small of her waist. This succeeds in giving her an exotic look. Shell bracelets jangle at her wrists and her slim ankles. She usually goes barefoot when performing. She often wears more than one earring in one ear. She wears a nearly see-through flowing sleeveless white dress which reaches down to her knees, to reflect the heat from the fire.

When she is not performing, she also prefers to go barefoot, and she only wears a stud earring in each ear and hardly any jewelry; she does not want her jewelry to get lost while she is traveling, and being a lover of activities like rolling on the grass, jewelry would be totally unsuitable. She would wear a short brown skirt and a light blue shirt which often get a layer of dirt on them.

People’s first impression of Phoenix depends on what she wants them to see. Usually, she seems to be a daring, competitive tomboy with an 'I-couldn't-care-less' attitude about everything, and who loves to participate in rough activities; and she really is like that. But sometimes, if she is suspicious of someone, or wants to act differently just for the fun of it, she will make you think that she is a completely different person from what she really is.

Phoenix is easily made to smile, and less easily made to frown. People know they’ve done something very wrong if she raises her voice. She always makes herself heard, although she talks quietly. She is very frank, and criticizes a lot. She never dithers about but goes straight to the point. Whenever she meets someone, she would be there punctually, and expect others to do the same. Many people often mistake her frankness and criticism for coldness and dislike, though they normally change their minds when she smiles at them.

She has the natural talent of making a good choice of friends. When she left home, she already had many loyal friends, and when she began traveling, she gained even more. Most of her friends would faithfully come to her aid if she was in trouble. Sometimes she travels alone, and other times she travels with fellow travelers. It depends on what area she is in.

Phoenix sets high standards for herself, and is a perfectionist. She practices for hours until she masters she skill she wants to master. She has a one track mind, and once her mind is set on getting or doing something, no one will sway her. She prefers to think of herself as persevering rather than stubborn. When she was younger, she wanted to be first in everything, and never admitted that she was wrong. But when she saw that this did not make her very popular, she set her mind to changing her image. Now she is more open-minded, though she still has a stubborn streak, and she no longer wants to rise above others as much as she did.

Although Phoenix’s performances are mainly fire-eating performances, she does sometimes do other acts like dancing and storytelling, as a back-up. She loves the fire; she loves to manipulate it to do what she wants it to do. She knows that fire is never tame, so she doesn’t do it too often. But she is proud of her fire-breathing skills, and delights in entertaining the children who gather around her after a performance, clamoring for more. She also respects nature and animals, and if she sees people mistreating the beauty of the environment, she would give them the 'treat' of having fire uncomfortably close to their faces.

Phoenix hates over-confident people or rich people who think that they’re above the poor. She is always kind to strangers, and she does trust them, but only up to a certain point. She is quite willing to forgive people who wronged her, believing that holding a grudge against someone only makes you more enemies. She is not as trusting as she appears to be, and she turns the tables on anyone who tries to take advantage of her at the last minute, when it seems like she has been fooled, and caught in the trap.

There is a part of her which she takes pride in and yet hates at the same time; she discovered at an early age that she feels no emotion when a loved one dies or when she kills someone. When she was attending the funeral of her well-loved mother, the women kept sniffling and even the men looked a bit teary-eyed. But Phoenix sat in the midst of them all, not a single tear-drop to be seen on her cheek, and all she could think was, these stupid women are dirtying their handkerchiefs. She tried to cry, but she couldn’t. At a young age, she panicked, thinking that something was wrong with her. But as she grew older, that doubt was pushed aside, though not altogether forgotten.

Phoenix has a ridiculous fear of large amounts of water, like lakes and swift running rivers, and thus cannot swim. She would refuse to travel by boat if she could travel to her destination on foot. She can deal with shallow lakes, rivers and pools, and she would even play in the sand by the sea, if the sand is dry, but she will not go near the sea or places where the water level goes past her chest, however much her friends laugh at her. This was part of the reason why she turned to fire-eating for comfort, though deep down she knew that it would not protect her. The reason for Phoenix’s fear of the sea is that it was the cause of her mother’s death.

As she grew older, Phoenix learned to push unwanted thoughts out if her mind, and smother them easily. But she knew it was dangerous to believe only what she wanted to believe, so she doesn’t keep them totally shut out. She prefers to stay neutral on most issues, unless it is a matter she feels really strongly about.

Due to an illness she had at a young age, Phoenix has a kind of fit every few years; she does not twitch about or have spasms, but she suddenly becomes so weak that she can’t walk or even talk. She just laughs; but it is not real laughter; it is an effect of the fit. She cannot help laughing. She has been known to suddenly collapse to the ground, laughing weakly, and has to be carried to her room. She detests this weakness of hers, and never speaks of it.

•   Her skill with her weapons, which is slightly above average, although not the best, protects her against her enemies.
•   Her natural talent of making good friends who will help her if she gets into trouble.
•   Being able to manipulate fire would make her enemies wary.
•   Her expressive eyes can make her enemies let their guard down.
•   Being a perfectionist leads to more achievements.
•   Her ‘perseverance’ can get her through hard times.

•   Her fear of large amounts of water in general and her inability to swim could prove fatal one day.
•   When she pushes unwanted thoughts out of her mind, it might be the wrong thought that she pushes out. If she wanted to believe that killing was not necessarily a bad thing, she would kill people without a second thought.
•   Her lack of emotion when it comes to death can be a weakness as well as strength; she might not care if someone threatens to kill another person.
•   People might take her frankness and criticism the wrong way.
•   Her daring often gets her into trouble.
•   Her fits, which she has every few years, make her very weak, and unable to defend herself against unwanted company for a week.
•   Her couldn't-care-less attitude sometimes gets her on the wrong side of other people.

Phoenix was born as a normal baby girl in the western forest of the Zeiphyrhian forests. Her parents met and fell in love under normal circumstances, and she was born into a normal family as the younger of two children; but she did not grow up like a normal child.

While Phoenix was playing with the sand at the seashore, her mother was swimming in the sea when she suddenly got very painful cramps in her legs, making her paralyzed and unable to swim; too much water got into her lungs, and she drowned. Phoenix saw the whole thing from where she was playing in the sand. By the time her father hauled his wife out of the sea, she was dead. Phoenix was only ten years old.

The shock of the tragedy struck everyone hard. Phoenix’s mother had been a well-known and well-liked person. Phoenix’s father, who was a hunter, took her death the hardest. He wore black for months, and was transformed from a fun-loving, healthy person into a pale, thin man. He stopped hunting. He did not care about what he ate, or what he did. He did not even seem to care about his children anymore.

Then one day, Phoenix was taken very ill. She could not have any food, as she threw up whatever she ate, even though she was hungry. As soon as her father heard the news, something re-awoke within him; he suddenly knew that he did care about his children, and he wanted Phoenix to live. He realized that he should not have mourned his wife for so long; she would have wanted him to continue life as usual.

He rushed to Phoenix’s room, where both his children were. He asked, with tears streaming down his face, to be forgiven. Phoenix’s sister started to cry as well, and she forgave him instantly. Phoenix herself did not cry, but she was only too glad to forgive her father; maybe her illness was a blessing in disguise.

Her father did everything he could to try and help his daughter; he paid many doctors to heal her, and he hunted more and worked harder than he ever had before. When Phoenix eventually recovered, he was back to his old self; he smiled and laughed again, and he regained his strength.

On one of his hunts, he discovered a human lying unconscious on the ground. He had a deep gash in his side, and he had cuts and scratches all over his body. Phoenix’s father carried him home and, with the help of Phoenix and her sister, nursed him back to health. The man was very grateful, and became a close family friend. It turned out that he was a traveler, and he was passing through the Zeiphyrhian forests when a wild bear suddenly attacked him, though he did not know why. It caused him a lot of damage, and must have left him when he was unconscious.

He stayed with Phoenix’s family for a few months before leaving, and occasionally visited them. He taught both Phoenix and her sister the art of fire-eating; both girls were fascinated by it, but it was Phoenix who took it up as an occupation. It started off as just performing for fun, and for the extra money. She found that it was easy to draw crowds for her fire-eating performances; she would also often add a little dancing and drama into it as well.

Phoenix would make the crowd gasp as fire erupted from her mouth. It wasn’t until her father suggested that she take it up as her main occupation did she look at it seriously. Phoenix decided to take her father up on his word, and left the family to travel. She would pay them a visit every couple of years. She found that she enjoyed the sense of freedom the traveling gave her.

Ony a year after she started traveling, Phoenix visited one of her closer friends, a smith, who made weapons and tools for a living, and very good quality ones at that. She was shocked to hear that he was about to close down his shop because for some mysterious reason, there weren't enough people coming to buy from him. She persuaded him to wait a few more weeks and lower his prices slightly, making them quite cheap, before closing down.

Phoenix set to work, performing at least once a day, coming up with new tricks every day to amaze her audience. At the end of her performance, she would make an announcement advertising a shop which sold very good quality weapons and tools for a cheap price. Soon, her friend's shop was buzzing with activity, and he did not need to close it down anymore.

Phoenix also gave the extra money from her performances to him. He was extremely grateful, and when Phoenix admitted that she was looking for a couple of weapons, he wanted to make them for her for free; but since she insisted on having to pay. In the end, he sold her Jhé'vai dagger and her armored fan to her for a very cheap price.

When she also admitted that she needed someone to teach her how to use them, her friend was very firm in insisting that he get one of his own friends to teach her, and he would do the paying, since he now had more than enough money to spare. This time, Phoenix relented as she could barely afford to have those lessons. And that was how Phoenix got her weapons and learned how to use them.

Phoenix is still traveling, and enjoying her performances. She gains more and more new friends every year, and she thinks that it will be quite a few centuries before she returns back home for good.

Phoenix has a Jhé'vai Dagger and an Armored Fan. They are of much value to her, and she keeps them sharp and well cared for. She purchased them partly because they were being sold for a cheap price at the time, but mainly because she wanted weapons which could be hidden from view.

Phoenix has her weapons, jewelry, money, clothes and the right materials for her performance as a fire-eater. She carries everything except her weapons in a medium-sized brown leather bag. She does not really need anything else, so she does have too many belongings with her, in case they might burden her in the future.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Arcuthra on April 21, 2007, 02:05:40 AM
Here we are:

Name: Arcuthra

Gender: Male

Age: 37

Race: Orc

Tribe: Volkek-Oshra

Occupation: Freelance Mage/Bodyguard

Title: Chivalrous Orc

Height: 1 Ped, 2 Fores, 3 Nailsbreadths, 2 Grains.

Weight: 2 pygges and 4 ods
Hair Colour: Brown
Eye Colour: Deep brown
Physical Appearance
Arcuthar’s bald visage, deep eyes, heavy jowls and thick brown beard are typical of his kind. Weighing in at over two pygges, he is an orc of hard, confident muscle and bearing. His thick shoulders and arms are concealed beneath his dark red robes, but even the clothing does little good in hiding the thickness of his chest from years of physical training.
Facially, he is nothing to note amongst his own kind: the same wrinkles, short nose, brown skin, beard (which he keeps trimmed short for convenience) and slightly protruding fangs; but around other races he looks somewhat intimidating, and in battle, he looks nothing short of fierce.
His left hand might draw some attention: it is missing all but the thumb and forefinger. A disability he has long since learned to overcome, but it has nevertheless forced him to go through life with only one good hand: handling delicate objects is a challenge, wielding a weapon with both hands is almost impossible, lifting heavy weights is sometimes a great obstacle. But he has managed.

Under most conditions, Arcuthra wears his traditional red robe and hood typical of his people. In battle or when preparing for it, over his light underclothing, Arcuthra wears a thin gambeson and a leather jerkin made of boar hide; over this he wears a chain mail shirt, then his breeches and shirt over which hangs his gold fire medallion, and a dark red robe overall with the hood typically drawn up. The casual observer, they may not realize he is armored, but to the more experienced eye the protection might be visible.
He keeps a change of clothing with him: a dark brown robe and clothes, almost black, and a second dark red robe. The first is for traveling or hunting at night, the second is gold fringed and a little brighter than the first: for any need to be formal, or if the more used robe becomes wet or damaged.

Like his people, Arcuthra is a most civilized orc. He is chivalrous, a man who finds peace in assisting the helpless, who sees war and battle not as an end or higher existence but as the means to peace when absolutely necessary. He isn't preachy or overt about it - he merely tries to do it, and will stop at nothing to defend his ideals if they are ever put into question.

He grows offended at those who are prejudiced against his kind: he doesn’t think this stereotyping of all orcs to be quite fair or even civilized, and is a source of burning irritation with him. He has no such prejudices himself, except (ironically) against uncivilized orcs: those who don’t treat their women right or who are too bloodthirsty or rowdy; those who are prejudiced against orcs, if they say as much or try to appease their hatred on his body, are likely to find him less than friendly.

He is not the talkative sort, but he is not uncomfortable in civilized company, if they are accepting. He is polite, mannered, and enjoys the reciprocation of such manners and politeness. But he lacks a sense of humor in the worst way. Also, he has an aristocratic attitude, which means he doesn't always get along well with more common folk.

He is not deeply religious, but he acknowledges the K‘ahn‘uck’tscha with all due care according to his tribe: he merely believes that honour is gained through chivalry and respect, and if in battle, having the enemy defeated: it is not necessary to slay him if he surrenders. But he never asks quarter, or accepts it, and rarely (if ever) offers it: the enemy must ask for quarter or terms, or he is not really defeated. But he avoids battle when he can: though he has pursued its art, he employs it for the respect and protection of others, not to wage war for any reason he finds.

Strengths and Weaknesses
His strengths lie in his simple physical prowess and his command over magic; his weaknesses in his disability and race.


1. He is physically in shape. He has been training physically since he was ten years old in a variety of ways, but he is not quite as agile as some. His weight has proven a disadvantage where running is concerned (not that this matters much, since he never runs from a fight). He has stamina, but it shows better when he stands and fights – not when he is racing after prey.

2. He has some prowess in battle: his father was a member of the Elite Guard, and took pains that his son could prepare to follow in his footsteps. After his accident he favored the sword and shield, as the shield could be simply strapped to his left arm and the sword wielded with his good hand. His skills began to wane after he started to concentrate more on magic, but he is adept enough in battle to be worth his weight.

3. Like any Volkek-Oshra, he began magical training at the age of 15. While he eventually left Ximax, he still reached a respectable level of training. But he felt his skills were not needed in the city of magic or amongst his people.

4. After about three years in a blacksmith shop, he has acquired some minor skill in the trade. It's difficult for him to employ however: he is really an assistant at best, or requires one if he does the work himself. He dislikes the work, but it provides a potential fall-back should he not be able to hire himself out in any other way.


1. Any orc knows that to be an orc is not advantageous in some society: he has encountered those who dislike orcs without properly weighing him out as an individual.

2. When insulted because of his race, he does not always hold his tongue, and this tends to cause more trouble than it's worth.

3. He has a very strong temper. In battle this can be helpful, but among the masses this is really not a very good thing. It is not set off easily, but when it is he loses his sense of caution.

4. His wounded hand has proven to be a hard thing to live with: he lost the ability to wield some weapons, such as staffs and two handed swords, and afterwards his skill with weapons began a slow decline. In fact, anything requiring two hands is almost impossible. It also makes others look at him in question from time to time, and wonder how he came by such a fierce injury, so it does not engender much trust. The hand - such as what is left of it - does not always work properly, and is darker than the rest of his skin because it was so severely burned. It also hampers any attempt at blacksmithing.

5. He can be hasty - he tends to make snap decisions without always thinking the consequences through.

6. He is chivalrous, but not above holding grudges. His grudges will smolder for years and years, and may cause him to do rash things for his sense of "honor" if forgiveness is not properly begged. He has a grudge against his tribe in general for casting him out; he is agreeable with other Volkek-Oshra, should he ever meet them outside of Ximax, but the tribe in general has earned his lasting contempt, unless they beg his forgiveness - which is not likely.

7. He is arrogant and a little overbearing. It's something he tries to curb, but it's a struggle. He pays proper respect to all, and yet, he dislikes coarse manners and attitudes. It's almost a split in his personality - helping the helpless while remaining above them...

He is a Volkek-Oshra, and as such began his magical training at the proper age of 15. His focus on other pursuits – specifically weapons – hampered a little bit of his development here. While he began to wield some spells with proficiency, some of the finer points of the art have never been fully realized by Arcuthra. He is a Level 3 Mage..
The more simple spells, such as Light, are what he prefers his magic for. He does not always use his magic in combat – the time needed for concentration makes it sometimes impractical, though it is most certainly useful.

Raised in Ximax, amongst the orcs of the Volkek-Oshra, Arcuthra has led a fairly normal and uneventful life. At the age of ten, his father, a member of the Elite Guard, decided that Arcuthra would one day have to join the Guard. So even in his early years, his father took great pains to see that he stayed physically in shape, and at age twelve began teaching him the use of weapons, something that he kept up throughout his years at Ximax.

When he was 34, he caught and adopted a Ximax Rat, who he called Jimp (see Familiars). The little rat turned out to be a wonderful currier, so long as he kept him fed - otherwise the rat tended to steal from other people's cupboards.

Once, during a festival, he “hunted” down a boar in the arena. He kept the hide and turned it into a leather jerkin, the same one he wears now.

He began his magical training at the proper age of 15, and advanced at an expected pace, but one day made a most unfortunate mistake: in his eagerness to increase his mastery of the spell, he attempted to enhance his casting of Quilrosh’s Fireball with the use of a torch. The resulting explosion took off the fingers of his left hand, and singed much of his beard away, but other than that he remained mostly unhurt. The spell is still an act that takes slightly more concentration for him to use than some other spells.
Still, the use of the spell and his oversight was not lightly put aside: the danger that it had posed had been potentially catastrophic. He was expelled from the academy. Furious, he spent three years in the city, plotting some sort of revenge while working as an assistant to a blacksmith – in this way, he obtained his weapons and armor and a little money, before leaving the city to avoid encountering any members of his own tribe, as revenge seemed an unlike possibility, but the idea ever smolders in his heart. As he travels he sees himself as a Freelance Mage for hire, or a bodyguard if need be - if desperate he will even try his hand at blacksmithing again.


- A simple war sword with a steel cross-guard and pommel. The entire weapon is 2 Fores, 2 Palmspans, 7 Nailsbreadths, and 1 Grain in length.
- A metal-rimmed round shield, painted a dark red. The diameter is 1 Fore, 2 Palmspans, 7 Nailsbreadths, and 3 Grains.

- His clothing and armor: a dark red robe, a thin gambeson, a jerkin of boar’s leather, shirt and breeches, a chain mail shirt, a second, lighter colored and dressier looking red robe, and dark brown robe.
- His sword and shield.
- A traditional gold medallion around his neck.
- His total fortune at the moment is one Hak, five ergs, and twelve sans.
- A small bag of fine ash for a reageant.
- A small quartz crystal, which employs as a focal point for casting "Light".

The rat nose and squeaks that come out of his robe pocket belong to Jimp, the Ximax Rat.
Jimp has a taste for good cheeses of every kind, and bright shiny objects. From time to time, he has pilfered small coins for his master and stuck them in Arcuthra's pouch without the orc's knowledge. He is careful to make sure that the coins are of the same type that Arcuthra has in his pouch already - that way, his master just thinks he has miscounted: after all, Jimp has an interest in making sure he remains fed.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Grimbeard Ironfist on April 21, 2007, 02:09:23 AM
Name: Grimbeard Ironfist

Age: 28

Weight: 215 lbs

Race: Dwarf

Class: Warrior

im not sure what else i need but ive got everything i need for him so tell me if i need more!

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Phoenix Calista on April 21, 2007, 02:16:26 AM
Grimbeard, if you take a look at the posts before you, you'll see that you need much, much more. :D You need to be an approved character to Role-play here. Post your CD (Character Description) in the Character Descriptions Board ( and look at Character Creation ( for info on how to make your CD.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Sparrow Brooks on April 21, 2007, 11:27:49 AM

My CD:
    Name: Sparrow Brooks

    Gender: Male

    Race : Human

    Tribe: Helcrani

    Age: 17 yrs

    Eye Colour: Dark Brown

    Hair Colour: Brown

    Title: Wanderer

    Height: 1 Ped 2 Fores

    Weight: 1 Pygge 2 Heb

    Occupation: Shephard

    Physical Description:

      Sparrow has brown neckline length hair and dark brown eyes. His skin is lightly tanned and he has a permantly curious and slightly defiant look to him. This shows well on his slightly angular, oval face, which can never hide it's emotions well. His physique shows someone who is used to travel and hours of walking.

     Sparrow wears a light longsleeved tunic(comfortable enough for those long journeys), a leather belt with a sheath for his knife and pants made of a rough material. Around his neck lies a leather string with an attached silver ring, upon which is enscribed: 'Remember, my son'


     He has a strong sense of right and wrong and is quite trusting of people. That though, is also a weakness .Not very trusting of the Avaria though, He believes in Dreams and Omens and listens to his Heart. He has always though, felt more connected to water, unlike most of his tribe, who worship mainly Arvis of Earth, the Hunter. Perhaps
that is explained by the myth that humans came from the Rain of Life.

 Most of Sparrow's days are spent walking, wandering from area to area, delivering messages to anyone who can pay and taking care of his sheep. He is a crack shot with a sling as a hunter but he is not disturbed on the road much. Except of course, by the predators who attack his flock.

 He has two strong likes: Music, which he plays on his handcarved flute and Mapmaking, which started as a method to find his way. Which, of course, still needs much improvement.

  • Sparrow has high endurance and can walk long distances if needed.(this is useful for travel as he has no mount or other means of movement)
  • Sparrow is a crack shot with a sling.(his main form of defence and/or hunting, this was learned on the farm as a pastime, then honed by the many times it has been used in his travels)
  • He can sprint relatively well in comparison with the average Kyralian.(useful because he cannot fight well at close range)
  • Sparrow makes simple maps and can use them easily in the wild or on the path.(when with a good map either aqcuired or made, he can hardly ever get lost. These he makes on parchement, which he sometimes buys from merchants in exchange for wool. His mother taught him how to write as his parents wanted him to be a merchant.)
  • When without an area map, Sparrow can use the stars.(without a map, he can still get around more or less well)
  • Sparrow's flock taught him patience and gave him time to think.(he doens't make hasty desicions, which helps him by keeping him from some problems such as taking the wrong path)
  • Sparrow always believes in everything he does, giving him the strength to do it.(he doesn't give up when the going gets tough, if he really believes in what hes doing, only an injury that can physically stop him will stop him)


  • Sparrow can be over-trusting.(leading to betrayal by the other party, sometmes, he also can be cheated of money)
  • Sparrow sometimes cares too much for his flock.( one example would be self-sacrifice or himself or putting himself in danger when they are threatened)
  • Sparrow can be caught dreaming when something needs to be done.(hesitation to act may be his downfall)
  • If attacked at short range, away from his sling, Sparrow cannot defend himself and will have to run.(meaning that he cannot attack or defend well at short range, leaving him almost useless at close-range battles, he prefers to range from afar with his sling[color=blue, fortunately he does not get in many such battles often.][/color])
  • Sparrow cannot stomach killing another sentient being well.(hesitation to kill may be his sorry end)
  • When Sparrow really wants something, he may go to foolish lengths to get it.(he may injure himself or worse in the pursuit of something)
  • Sparrow cannot stand making strong friends or alliances because he is afraid of losing them as he travels.(he has no one to back him up)


Around Three Years Ago:

 Sparrow sighed, looked out across the field.
Like his namesake, he wanted, no, needed, freedom. Life on the farm was good but something was missing. There was an empty space in his heart that grew as he did. He was almost fourteen now, almost an adult. In that moment, he made a decision. He would leave.

 He went to tell his father.

 His father was a man of the land and did not have such fantasies of journey but knew that if he really loved Sparrow, he would have to let him go. He gave to him the sheep that he used to take care of and a few pieces of handmade parchement, knowing that it would be useful.

 His mother was sad yet joyful and knew that the time had come. She took her one, treasured piece of silver and had it made into a ring at the forge. The smith was an old family friend and gave his services free. On the ring was enscribed: Remember, my son. It was thread with a bind of leather, given to Sparrow.

 Sparrow gathered his belongings, his shephard’s pouch, his gourdskin, sling, his knife and his handcarved flute.

 He left, a figure in the warm sunrise.

 He wandered, surviving on the money earned from the sheep’s fleece, living as he wished, sleeping under the stars.

 In time he learned how to mapmake as twice he lost his path when he needed it. He began to trust in dreams. They were all he had. Sometimes he missed home, but he could always visit. Yet the lure of new places always pulled him away when he thought so.

 A Year had passed.

 He had changed, possessed of new patience, of new strengths but also of a longing for home that sometimes dragged at his heart. At the same time, new things, new songs and people call. This, was his love. Boots upon the grass, he sighed.

By the fire's light,
in the oh still night.
My heart still longs for home,
here in the night alone.

  There was always more.

Traveller's Knife(a sturdy knife used for almost everything that requires a sharp object),Sling(simple, kept in good condition  and used frequently to protect his flock and for small scale hunting)


All he has is a small pouch and his clothes, the pouch containing his flute, a gourdskin of water, and some parchement, on some simple maps.


 His flock of 20 consists of 16 females and 4 males,which he watched after since he was 7. he knows all of them amd would never sell them. All are white, and two are lame. They have taught Sparrow much and he talks to them occasionally. They seem to understand.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Fallen on April 21, 2007, 04:03:18 PM
The best way to get a hold of me, is to just PM me.

Name: Vashan "Fallen" Lyth
Gender: Male
Age: 229
Race: Elf
Tribe: Coor'hem
Occupation: Bard/Mercenary
Title: Fatal Rose

Hair: Deepest Violet
Eyes: Ithild
Height: 2 Peds
Weight: 1 Pygge, 3 Hebs, 1 Hafeb

Overview: A dark, morbid elf with an affection for art and poetry. Wielding his scythe, he makes his own destiny.

Physical Appearance: Standing nearly 2 peds in height, and weighing about 1.5 pygges, Fallen's build is lithe and slender. His slim body, though fragile in appearance, is well muscled and toned. As is customary for his tribe, his skin is pale and smooth. Long, muscled limbs end in nimble fingers and slender feet. His face is delicate, beautiful, and angular. High cheek bones and sharp features define his pale face. His lips are thin and able to twist into his many emotions, and his jawline is sharp and well formed. A long thin nose runs down the center of his face. Dark, arched, cynical eyebrows preside over his eyes. His eyes are beautiful, slanted, and almond shaped, with a silvery color and are often filled with turbulent emotions. Long, sharply pointed ears complete his deceptively fragile features. His dyed hair is dark, deep purple, nearly black. The bangs are parted and hang down to his cheek bones and drift in front of his eyes, while the rest flows down to the middle of his back.

Along his left ear, are three silver studs near the tip, and a small silver hoop pierces the lobe. A silver spike pierces either side of his lower lip. Underneath each eye is tattooed a thick, curved triangle, and straight, thinner triangles are above his eyebrows. Tattooed on his left shoulder is a purple rose, representing his love of nature.

Clothes: His torso is covered by a black leather, hooded jacket. The nor'sidian leather is thick and flexible, allowing for easy movement. It drapes over his shoulders and fits loosely on him, the hood either thrown back or shadowing his face. The baggy left sleeve extends down to his wrist, while his right one terminates at the elbow. It reaches to his calves, and is belted off by a karikrimson satin sash at the waist. Silver clasps allow the attire to be fastened, though he often leaves it open, his torso exposed. A dark violet rose made of satin is sewn into the back.

He also wears loose-fitting black pants, with leather straps around the calves and thigh. His black leather boots reach to the bottom of the calves, with iron-shod soles and toes. A black, fingerless leather glove covers his right hand.

Jewelry: Adorning his neck is an elegant but durable silver chain, displaying a pendant depicting a small amethyst rose with a silver stem. The two spiked studs in his lip are dark silver, with four defined sides rather than being round, and coming to a sharp point at the end, about a nailsbreadth in length. One is pierced to the far left of the bottom lip, the other is on the far right. The studs near the tip of his left ear are mere silver spheres, and the small hoop in the lobe has a small stud around the bottom.

Personality: Fallen's attitude is quite cynical. His personality is habitually dark, and he often prefers silence to gossip. Though quiet, he'll engage in conversation to gain information, or to relieve his constant loneliness. His humour is decidedly morbid, and his smile characteristically grim. He holds himself with an air of dignity and certain aloofness. He can appear cruel and uncaring at times, though his heart is actually compassionate. He's easily annoyed by others, and prefers to stay apart from them. He can be charismatic, but often keeps to himself.

His true passion is art in all its forms, particularly poetry and singing. He has a wonderfully artistic mind, often sitting for hours merely contemplating random things. He himself is a bard, traveling the world writing poems and drawing sketches of anything he finds meaning in. Also, like much of his tribe, values nature and the artistic cultivation of it. Though he himself was never adept at handling plant-life, he admires those who can.

Another important aspect of Fallen, is his insanity. Though often quiet and composed, his bursts of insane lunacy occur quite often. His views are often deranged, and his thought processes deemed disturbing. He can break out with little to no warning, and become extremely hostile and uncooperative. This often happens in a state of heightened excitement, but insanity is always a part of him. He revels in his insanity, and it's a form of twisted pride to him. He believes that he is superior due to his ability to hear what others cannot, to percieve what others never will.


Sorrow Song ~ Strapped diagonally across his back, over his jacket, Fallen wears his scythe. The name 'Sorrow Song' is engraved into the bottom of the handle. This ornate weapon has a curved shaft of extremely dark, purple iron, 2 peds in length. Along the haft are two iron bars, serving as handles. It's crafted so that it appears a black snake skeleton covers the weapon, it's black rip cage wrapped around the purplish haft. the top resembles the skull of a snake, it's gaping, fanged maw opening to allow the blade to protrude. The blade is silvery steel, nearly a ped in length and slightly curved. The weapon is highly versatile, and has excellent balance.

Final Scream ~ Fallen's secondary weapon is a strange implement of his own design. It consists of a black iron ring that lies on the front of his shoulder, two chains are attached to the top of the ring and cross each other behind and under the shoulder making an X, then reconnecting near the bottom of the ring. These suspend it firmly in place, and can be unclasped to release the weapon. Seared into the bottom of the ring is a much larger, silvery chain. These thick links of metal reach nearly 2 peds in length, with two heavy, black iron, triangular weights on the last link to provide distance. The weapon is used to supplement his scythe when needed, and is dangerous to tangle with. When not in use, the chain is coiled about his arm, the two weights pushed into the links to form a clasp around the wrist, and is worn underneath his left jacket sleeve.


Dexterity ~ Fallen has perfected his dexterity to an art. His movements are elegant and graceful, and in battle his movements are like a complicated dance. His hand-eye coordination is excellent, and his reflexes make him a tricky target. In excellent physical shape, he's a dangerous and easy person to lose track of in combat.

Sorrow Song ~ He's proficient in his chosen weapon, and highly confident with it. Its long reach and unconventional techniques make it deadly to tangle with. Able to be wielded with graceful finesse and skill, it's aptitude for disarming is significant.

Final Scream ~ This flexible chain, concealed until his jacket is discarded, gives Fallen yet another long range weapon. Fallen has learned to use it to foul up other's weapons, trip up their feet, or give a rather nasty lash across the face. Though not as deadly as Sorrow Song, the Final Scream delivers painful reminders.

Poetry Affinity ~ Fallen has worked long and hard to change his guttural Coor'hem dialect into a singing voice, and has done fairly well. His poetry is dark and often sorrowful, but the deepness of it usually gets to people. He truly reveals his inner self when he performs his heart out, and is usually a helpful reprieve from the martial life.

Haunted ~ Though deprived of his flight, the Tager is still a devoted and powerful ally. He's quick to leap to his companion's defense. His powerful claws, muscular body, and razor sharp teeth make him a deadly additon, though he's not particularly suited to fighting on the ground.


Insanity ~ Insanity, both Fallen's greatest pride and his greatest shortcoming. At times, he sinks into periods of depression and self-loathing. He'll become extremely distant and detached from the world, sinking into his own darkness for days at a time. Voices often haunt his unstable mind, tormenting him relentlessly. Whether they're indiscernible wails and snarling growls, or intelligible, sinister whispers, these voices overwhelm him. He values these as both gift and curse. His thoughts are often twisted and demented, and he'll become obsessed with an idea that he'll defend and justify to no end, but to others makes no sense, and often seems utterly insane. In his delirium, these voices are sometimes accompanied by images, misconceptions, and hallucinations. His dreams aren't anything to be envied either. This makes him highly unpredictable, and often dangerous to himself and others.

Insomniac ~ Fallen suffers from Insomnia, which is an inability to obtain sleep. His unstable mind filled with nightmares and voices haunts his sleep, and he prefers to stay awake. His abundant energy also makes it difficult to even attempt falling asleep. Due to this, he is nearly always tired, and rarely catches a goodnight's repose.

Weapon Liabilities ~ Fallen's weapons are both large and heavy, being made of metal. Endurance isn't his strong point, and these wear on him the longer he is engaged. Only one can be used at a time, for the scythe requires two hands and would become entangled with the chain, so he gets no advantage in that department. Though his weapons are a excellent at keeping enemies at bay, they're useless in close quarters. Wide, open space is required for these instruments of destruction to be wielded, and if an enemy is able to close in, Fallen is nearly helpless. He's forced to go in for the quick defeat, or run the risk of exhaustion. Since he battles for a living, these prove to be a serious detriment.

Aloof~ Fallen likes to keep to himself much of the time. He is easily aggravated and annoyed, and quick to react negatively. This not only gets him into troublesome situations, but alienates would be allies or friends. He's quick to snap back if he feels instigated, and when lost in his thoughts is highly irritable.

Afflicted~ Though healthy and in excellent shape, Fallen suffers from a relentless sickness. When it strikes, the symptoms are obvious. His breath comes in painful gasps, he has trouble standing, a fevered sweat breaks out across his flesh, he becomes cold and pale, and begins coughing up blood. This is often triggered when his insanity has a strong hold.


 Fallen was born and raised in the Crystalwoods Forest on Nybelmar. He was part of a Coor'hem tribe of 43 other elves, living with his mother, father, and sister. His father, Mullion, was a warrior in the tribe, while his mother Stashia was one of the rarer jewelists. They lived near the capital city of Sevari, and his tribe controlled one of the seven gates.

Note, he was born as Vashan Lyth. Fallen is a name he takes up later. Fallen was a quiet youth, but with an abundant supply of energy. He spent his early years by himself, contemplating whatever caught his fancy at the time. Flowers were among his favorite things to study, amazed by their natural beauty. He also watched the warriors practice and spar, knowing that he, like most of his tribe, must become one.

At an early age, his father announced that it was time for him to start his training. The elf decided to wield a weapon that instilled fear and death: The Scythe. With the weapon of his choice, the elf began training under his father. He was an eager pupil, and his abundant energy served him well. He was highly versatile with his weapon, whirling it in deadly circles, spinning, twisting, disarming. As the years progressed, he grew increasingly proficient. Soon he joined the other soldiers in their sparring, and so progressed through the years...

Fallen had to grow up quickly, in the conniving, sinister world of the Coor'hem. It wasn't a surprise to find out one of your tribe had been slain, and Fallen had to defend his tribe many times himself. Duels were daily in his life, and he had to learn quickly. He took a morbid fascination in battle, swinging his scythe in devastating archs, watching as the life bled from his foes. He displayed a disturbing glee and beautiful grace as he whipped around his opponents.

Being one of the gate controlling tribes, they were constantly faced with opposition. Aside from one on one duels, tribe battles were commonplace. And even when those were past, poison was a popular factor in eliminating unwanted company. Food was taken when the oppurtunity presented itself. Hunting area was often disputed, and skirmishes were always the method of solving these disputes.

Eventually, as must always happen, their tribe lost control of the gates to another, and the remainder left to nurse their wounds and pride. As always, the tribe carried on with every day life, which in a Coor'hem's case, meant battle. Constant battle, looking over your shoulder, being careful what you drink, all these were aspects of the untrustful Coor'hem life. Though, now that they no longer controlled a gate, the tribe wasn't so often targeted. Fallen spent his newfound free time in Sevari, wandering around and taking a reprieve from his harrowing life.

At the age of 57, Fallen began courting a lovely warrior elfess, by the name of Tyla.  His romantic side was revealed, as did his poetic one.  They met in their capital, Sevari, and spent much of their time together there. They often sparred together, and loved every moment they spent together. The elf's normally lonesome life was looking up. He devoted more and more of his time towards poetry, writing out his heart in rhyme and metaphors. He found it an excellent way to express himself, and a new hobby was born in his heart.

A couple years later, the couple decided to marry. As they were of different tribes, it was customary for the dominant parent of each to do battle with the other, in order to determine which tribe would claim the newlyweds. Fallen's father was to go up against Tyla's mother. A week before the deciding battle however, Tyla was slain in a duel. Fallen had watched the battle take place; her weapon had been built with a fault so it shattered on impact, leaving her defenseless. Yet another common trick in the Coor'hem book. He grieved for his love, but did not vow revenge; vengeance got you nowhere, according to Fallen.

The loss affected him however. His mind showed it's first forms of insanity. He was tiring of the constant cruelty and foolish customs of his people. What was the point? You struggle your whole life to obtain power... only to have that power quickly taken away at the cost of your life. It all seemed utterly helpless to him, and constantly grated on his nerves. He kept to his poetry most of the time, keeping away from others when at all  possible.

The time came when family member was to fight family member. Fallen was to fight his own father for a position of power. As the remainders of his tribe gathered around to watch, the elf breathed a sigh of discontentment. It was expected that family members go easy against each other, so it shouldn't be a serious battle, but still, the fight seemed ridiculous. Circling Mullion, he swung the bottom of the scythe at his father's torso. Mullion, however, knocked the half-hearted attempt aside, and slashed a bloody gash through his son's chest. His father was being serious! Growling, Fallen swung the business end of the scythe, landing a solid blow and gouging his father's ribs. Ripping it out, he ducked a swing just in time, and used his low position to swing a surprise attack at the legs. Mullion jumped the attack, but was caught in the calf as the blade circled back and made a repass. Leaping up, Fallen caught his opponent in the stomach with his knee. Mullion managed to impale his son's shoulder, but this left him vulnerable for the down-swung attack that pierced his abdomen. Kicking his father to the ground, Fallen pushed his way through the cheering crowd of people, and went to isolate himself by a brook.

The years went by, Fallen's sister was killed in a skirmish over hunting grounds, his mother passed away after she induced poison. And all anyone cared about was increasing their own power. No compassion, no peace, no point. He had his piercings and tattoos done as a sign of his power and prestige, and he enjoyed fear and respect, he could feel the dangerous yearnings for more power. But he vowed not to let it control him.

The sole survivor of his family, Fallen was indeed a lonely person. Many of his friends had been slain, and others had married out of the tribe. One such was his next opponent. A former friend named Yassim, was now his enemy. Yassim wielded twin morningstars, a deadly combination indeed. Glaring at each other, the two faced off. Yassim came back, whirling the studded spheres rapidly. Fallen used his weapon's longer reach to hold Yas at bay, swinging tight, precise arcs. But the elf was cunning, and made himself hard to keep track of. Fallen suffered several painful blows to his back, unable to stave off attacks once his opponent was inside the scythe's reach. In a sudden strike, the two spinning sphere's collided at the same time, shattering Fallen's beloved scythe. The elf was promptly laid out flat. Gazing dazedly up at the victor, he stretched out his bleeding hand, but Yas merely snarled contemptously and delivered a vicious kick to the fallen elf's face, ending his conciousness.

Waking up, the elf found himself staring up at the dark trees in the middle of the night. Slowly standing and brushing himself off, the elf searched out the forge of the most skilled blacksmith of his tribe. Once located, he commisioned a scythe, one that wouldn't so easily be shattered. Also he designed a secondary weapon, having acquired a new respect for chains. After several days of impatient waiting, he was able to leave the forest, now that nothing held him back, and vowed never to return. He dubbed himself Fallen, and decided to see what else the world had to offer.

He traveled across Nybelmar towards the Zharkanion mountains. Once there, he stayed for several days, reveling in his new carefree life. Here, he did something he'd never done before, he sang. It wasn't exactly pleasant, his life wasn't suited to this kind of expression, but he sang and sang his heart out. On the fourth day of his stay in the mountains that seperated Nybelmar, Fallen was interrupted by a scratching sound on the rocks. Proceeding around a bend, he caught sight of a bleeding heap crawling it's way towards him. Upon further inspection, he realized it was one of the rare Tagers, indigenous to these mountains. Approaching cautiously, he saw it was a young one, probably drawn by his singing. It had sustained grievous injury to it's wings and torso. Possibly it had fallen in a fight with another, in a battle of territory. Even being dazed briefly at those heights could be deadly.

He took pity on the creature and washed its wounds in a nearby brooke. He cleaned its wounds as best was possible, and fed its atrocious appetite with what food he had. For the next week he went back and forth from mountain to town, buying supplies for himself and the wounded creature. He sang to it as it was nursed back to health, and the two formed a bond. A friendship was created between them, and they became inseperable. Fallen named his companion Haunted. Though the creature's wings never regained they're ability to fly, Haunted was content and grew healthily.

While in the mountains, Fallen started having visions. Flashbacks to his past, of losing all his family, and other, more poetic images. Spending weeks at a time isolated in the mountains, except from Haunted of course, he wrote poetry and lived carefree. It wasn't long before he caught a fever, and with no one around to care for him, he was near helpless. Fevered dreams haunted him constantly, voices pushed their minds into his head, his nights were fraught with distorted images and sounds, his days were no better. Haunted was worried about his companion, but could do little. Eventually he overcame the illness, but it had left a lasting effect on his already unstable mind. Leaving the mountains, Haunted by his side, Fallen set off to explore the world, working by a mercenary while examining the planet's beauty.

Belongings: Fallen carries little with him, other than his attire and weapon. Tied to his sash he wears a black leather pouch, containing the little coin he may posses at the time. Inside Haunted's saddlebag, Fallen keeps a whet stone for sharpening his scythe, a 4 ped length of chain, a red quill pen and metal vials of ink, a sketch pad, several sheets of parchment, and a black leather bound book with a silver skull adorning the front which contains his poetry and works.

Familiars: Fallen's familiar, Haunted, is of the Tager species, also known as Bird-Lizards. Standing about a ped at the shoulder, and twice that length-wise, Haunted is an impressive creature. His head is large and lizard like, with sleek, black scales. These same scales cover his long, graceful neck, and melds into a leathery brown body. Stout legs terminate into four heavy talons, used to rip open prey. His wingspan extends to 3.5 peds, with black feathers, turning grey at the tips. Unfortunately, the wings are mutilated and crooked, useless for flight.

Haunted is bonded inseperably to Fallen, and follows him everywhere. He's usually fairly docile, modest about his own handicap. He can be a powerful ally in battle, despite his lack of flight. However, he has grown spoiled and lazy, and much prefers to lay about than do anything strenuous. He's fairly egotistical, and gets highly irritable if not given proper attention.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Weivóc'Neán on April 25, 2007, 11:48:30 PM
Contact me at:

    *Weivóc'Neán(destiny end)



    Approximately 2 peds and a palmspan.

    1 pygge, 5 hebs, 8 ods.

Eye Color:

Hair Color:


    Eophyrhim Elf.

    Assassin, Bounty Hunter.

    The Forsaken.

    From the looks of him, one would not guess this mans gruesome past. He has grown into a expert assassin. If asked, this man would say "I enjoy what I do for a living". He moves in the night very swiftly and silently. He always sticks to the shadows and never reveals himself at night while on a mission.   

Physical Appearance:
    Overall Body- He is a tall and slender elf. Even though he is actually strong, his body structure deceives the eye and gives him a different appearance. He has some tattoos that are just the drawings and not colored in.

    Head- He has three piercing on his right ear and two piercing on his left ear. Two of the piercing on his right ear, and a piercing on his left ear are dangling diamonds, which he believes brings good luck to him on his missions. The other two, one on each ear, are studs, which he believes keeps bad omens from entering his dreams. His hair falls down to his shoulder blades in the back, gradually shortening while heading to his face where it only goes down just below his, almond shaped, crystal blue eyes. Even though his hair is sort of long, it has never given him away.

    Arms- He has a tattoo of a hawk soaring on each of his upper arms. This is over tight sinewy rippling muscles. These are from long periods of working out and strengthening these muscles in different ways.

    Upper Body- He has a tattoo of a lone mithral wolf on his back. Also, on his chest, there is a tattoo of a frost dragon curling around staring straight out with spine chilling eyes. This is over a tight well worked out chest and abs that show no trace of fat.

    Legs- There is a tattoo of the Eophyrhim hunting hound on each one. Even though his legs don't look like they have much muscle, they can actually carry him and his belongings quite a distance relatively fast without tiring. This is due to endurance and speed training.

    He is always wearing a black cloak with a hood. Under his cloak, he is wearing a black ether-flake shirt and leather pants. He wears black dyed animal hide shoes. He also wears a black silk scarf that is very long but just short enough that when standing its just barely above the ground.

    He has always been different including his personality. Some even say his outlook on life is twisted, but he says that he doesn't have a strange outlook. He says we are destined to become very strong and show that you are more superior compared to others. Also, you need to have some compassion for someone or something in someway. He thinks this because this is what he has always thought, since he has been an outcast. He has always been afraid of being in a giant crowd. When in one, he get nervous and can easily lose control and start attacking people. Even though he doesn't use weapons when he does this, it does usually have one or two people need medical treatment. He does not mind openly telling people the truth, because he thinks people who lie are just weak people who deserve to die.

    Though no one knows it but him, he has a soft spot for wolves and foxes and will not abandon one in danger or that is injured. This is because he understands their pain and how they are outcasts for no reason. He also think that with power there comes responsibility. His responsibility is to work for people and do their work for them which is killing and murdering people. This is due to the thrill he finds in killing people and the fact that he believes he should give the privilege of death to those who deserve it. Otherwise when making idle chat, he is actually seems quite normal and knows much about what's happening in the world. Also if one asks, he can have the knowledge on anything that is happening around the world.

    *Stealth Skills- Ability to stealthily kill and to conceal himself in the shadows.
    *Strength- Able to swing a blade even of considerable weight very fast.
    *Endurance- Able to run long distances and able to last long through fights.
    *Adaptable- He has always been able to learn and adapt very easily to anything including weapon skills or harsh weather.
    *Customized Scimitar- he can use it quite well and has a very unique in fighting style.
    *Salén Pins- he can use these with pretty good accuracy.
    *Coorán'Lóh Blades- he can use these very well, but can't use in combination with his scimitar. Only used for if he loses his weapon, whether it be by it breaking or knocked out of his hands.

    *Agoraphobia(Fear of Big Crowds)- He has always been afraid of being in a giant crowd, and when in one, he get nervous and can easily lose control and start attacking people.
    *Slow Healing- He heals relatively slowly. No one knows the cause of this.
    *Persistent- Due to always being persistent, he has almost killed himself several times and has lost many deals on items and merchandise.
    *Weak Immune- Due to an ingrown immune system, he is susceptible to poisons, toxins, and diseases more than the usual elf. He has not grown immune to poison like a normal Eophyrhim elf, because he has never used poison on an enemy except for missions, and not to catch animals. It is ingrown due to the fact that he had recieved a good poison immnue when he was a kid and then he got older, he didn't eat anything with the usual poisons used by his tribe to hunt. Due to this, it became worse then if he never had it when born.
    *Bad Left Shoulder- Due to a badly healed injury to his shoulder during a mission, it sometimes causes him pain making him unable to use that arm.
    *Wolves/Foxes- Due to an unusual compassion for wolves and foxes, he will help them no matter what. This has put him in dangerous and unnecessary situations and also has caused him to be bit time to time.
    *Oneirophobia(Fear of Dreams)- For some odd reason, he grew up with a fear of his dreams and nightmares. No matter what they were, it always meant something bad happening depending on the dream. Sometimes he dreamt of people just dieing in front of him and the next day he would get hurt some way. Whenever he has a dream, he is always seen at a hand-made shack in the woods just out of the town he is staying at, or his home until he moves to a new town. Even though this doesn't stop what was going to happen from happening he feels like it makes it less painful. The only time he isn't at home, is when he is on a mission, but somewhere in town that day.
    *Heliophobia(Fear of Sun)- Due to a fear of the sun since birth, he has never looked at the sun, studied about the sun, or ventured into sunlight with out his entire body being covered by clothing. Due to this, he has been hindered from traveling at some points where there were rips or tears in his clothing, being afraid something would happen to him if the sun touched his skin. This has also caused his skin to become intolerant to the sun. If he were to venture into the sun with a part of his body exposed to it, it would burn very easily and could even scar.

    He was born to a pretty rich family that worked as assassins. Ever since his birth he has had 3 majors fears he couldn't conquer. These were fear of the sun, big crowds, and his dreams. Due to the fear of the sun, he has always wore a full body cloak, and tilting his head down to shade his head, to protect his skin from the sun and thought of himself tainted if he were ever touched by the sunlight. Also, when being taught, he never listened to the studies about the sun since he feared it. He naturally wanted to follow in his parent's footsteps, so they started training him at the age of 16. As he grew up he started wondering why he was on this earth and what was his purpose. He also decided that when he grew up, he was going to kill people for a living. He decided this, because he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt and success. When he turned 19, he started to work out everyday in the woods to work out. At the age of 26, his parents bought him a customized scimitar because they were starting to train him to fight with swords. It was customized how he wanted by making it longer and less curved but still kinda thin. He asked for it this way, because he liked long two handed swords, but did not like them to be excessively heavy which is how most are. He learned to use this well and fast. After he was through training with them, he became a hunter and started developing very good stealth and learn to kill quickly.

    At the age of 89, he killed many of the people in the Arvins Festival. It is a festival held every 25 years in which there is a great feast honoring 25-40 random humans. That night after the feast, the humans are released, and the Eophyrhim chase after and kill them once the sun rises. It usually lasts 2-8 days. This scared everyone because it had never been done before by one person alone so fast. They were also scared because they thought that he might give the privilege of death to fellow clan members. Even though others see him as twisted, he thinks he is just misunderstood. Before this happened, he had a dream about two wolves running across a empty field in the middle of the night when a full moon was in the sky. He believes this to symbolize him being exiled from the clan since it was a full moon that night and he was thus exiled. He then ran far away across an empty field all throughout the night.

    After he killed most of the people in the festival by himself, he was exiled from the tribe, because they felt he might betray them for some reason, and was never seen there from then on. He became a hired assassin with a scary past. He went to the nearest city to work in his new life. He worked for 8 years before he bought some coorán'lóh blades to fit his shoes. He noticed these when he saw a kaierian warrior using them. He asked what they were and if he could get some and the kaierian warrior happily helped him. He trained himself to use these, to be able to use without making major mistake, for the next 5 years, while living off money he acquired in the last 8 years. After he resumed killing for awhile, he met a stranger that introduced him into salén pins. After learning some about them he learned to use them better on his own in a small training course he built himself off in the woods.

    After that he resumed being an assassin until he was 198, then a bartender that knew what he did for a living, and that always asked him questions, asked this question, while serving him a drink, "Are your parents proud of what you do?"
    "Yes, but they don't know how good I am at my job," he replied.
    "Why haven't you told them what you do?" The bartender asked.
    Taking a drink from his glass, he then replied "Because I can't tell them how good I am on account of something I did causing me to get exiled from the tribe."
    "What was that?" The bartender inquired with a wondering voice.
    He drank the rest of his drink and set his glass down. He then replied, "I enjoy killing so much that I started to scare them all, including my own parents."

    After this, everyone that learned of his past started calling him "The Forsaken" because he did not seem normal. They thought this because it was not normal for a elf, even a Eophyrhim, to have a love for killing as much as he did. He then left the town he was in and started moving from town to town never staying longer than 10 years anywhere. He sometimes did end up in a town he had visited before but no one recognized him, because it had been at least 75 years before he went back to the same town. While in town he would find a bar after about a week of looking. When he found it he would go to the bar and order the same drink he always did. He would then let everyone know he was a bounty hunter and to leave a note on the board or to tell him personally right then of requests. He would then leave and go off into the crowd of people and disappear. He would come back later and check the board and complete the requests in less than a week, except certain ones that required much travel that would take longer.

    *Salén Pin- Was showed to him by a stranger when he was 134 and he choose to use them while this stranger taught him somewhat how to use them. He got better on his own with his own training course for them he built.
    *Coorán'Lóh Blades- He bought these himself, after seeing a Kaierian Warrior use some, at the age of 98 and learned to use them on his own.
    *Modified Scimitar- Given to him as his 26th birthday present. It's modified by making the blade longer and a little less curved. This was made at his request.

    *His weapons.
    *His clothes.
    *A sack for all his money.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin on May 09, 2007, 01:10:33 AM
Please PM me as this is the best way to get a hold of me.

Name: Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin (Altario Golden Shield in the ancient tongue)

Gender: Male

Age: 35

Race: Human

Tribe: Remusian

Occupation: Land Holder

Title: Adventurer

Appearance: Having been adventuring for the last few months, and not wanting to draw attention to himself, Altario has taken to wearing common, everyday clothing.  These include; tanned leather breeches, a baggy cloth shirt, hardened leather boots, and a tanned leather jacket.  Most of his clothing has been patched, rather poorly, by himself

Height: 1 Ped, 2 Fores, 1 Palmspan

Weight: 1 Pygges, 7 Hebs

Hair Colour: Black with hints of grey at the ears

Eye Colour: Grey

Physical Appearance: Altario is an impressive man, tall with a large chest, though not muscular.  In fact, he appears a little gaunt, though he is quite healthy, mostly due to his privileged upbringing.  What mostly catches other's attention is that he exudes a strength and confidence, and will always look you in the eye. He has that innate aura of someone who has always been in control of his environment, though the lines around his eyes and the little areas of grey hair at his ears betray the fact that this is no longer the case. 

Altario has cold grey eyes that are quite piercing.  He is handsome, but in a mature, weathered way.  When he smiles, somewhat more uncommon than in days previous, dimples appear on both sides of his mouth.  He has a wide scar on his left forearm, a souvenir of a battle long ago.  His black hair falls to his shoulders, longer than he would normally wear it, but the rigors of the road have forestalled any attempt to cut it.  It is kept neat, though, as is the two day growth of beard that adorns his face. Altario sometimes walks with a limp, mostly on cold early mornings, depending on how his right knee feels, as old age is beginning to creep up behind him.

Personality: The cliche “strong silent type” was invented for people like Altario.  He is not one for small talk and prefers to only voice an opinion when it matters most.  Although not officially belonging to any group of knights, he has a strong sense of honour that he adheres to.  It is this honour that keeps him going when his mind and body beg for rest.  Though a born leader, he now prefers to keep a low profile, and tends to act as adviser.  He remembers what it is like to laugh and be happy, though he has found no reason to in many months.  Sullen would be too strong a word, whereas distant would be more appropriate.

------ Altario is an educated, intelligent man.  He can read and write, though he speaks no languages other than his native Ice Tribe language and Tharian.

----- Altario is very competent with sword and shield, as well as a lance.  He can also handle a bow, though only somewhat better than average.

---- Altario is the son of a wealthy landowner in his homeland, thus he has access to funds by producing promissory notes to elites almost anywhere within the lands of the Ice Tribes.  His reputation is beyond reproach and his need for money is minimal, so he usually has no trouble getting money if he needs it, as well as food and a roof over his head.  He is extremely careful not to over use this advantage, and in fact, prefers to keep his wealth to himself.

--- Altario was raised around horses, and is an excellent horseman.

----Altario, being from a wealthy home, fits in well with the elite society, and is quite at home there.

----- Altario is on a quest to find his 14 year old daughter, Nayriss.  This is what drives him.  However, it makes him somewhat noncommittal in his dealings with others.  This can germinate into a trust issue, as his priority is now, and always will be, his search for Nayriss.

---- Altario is haunted by the memory of his wife, Riztalyana, who died 8 years ago.  She appears to him in dreams; sometimes offering confusing portents to the future. This makes him agitated, due to the insomnia and vagueness of the dreams, and is a strain on his sanity, leading to bouts of depression.

--- Altario's personal tragedies have caused him to leave his estate, and have expressed themselves in bouts of depression, manifesting itself in drinking binges and gambling, providing he has the money earned from adventuring.

-- His quiet nature, coupled with his commanding presence is often mistaken for haughtiness.  This often puts people ill at ease around him who do not know him.

- Altario does not make close relationships.  He tends to be an outsider, with no real enemies, but no one that would call him “friend”.

---Because he was raised as a landowner, Altario sometimes finds it difficult, if not downright annoying, to deal with "peasants".  Likewise, he finds it difficult to treat other races as equals to him, as he has battled with most of them at some point or another.

----Altario distrusts all temples and clerics because of the secrets that Sebastian kept from him.  As well, he distrusts all types of magic, as where he came from they had been laid waste to for many years by magic.  These are types of racist feelings that he has found difficult to overcome.

---Altario has begun to feel the effects of age, and his right knee is beginning to stiffen on him, especially in the mornings, or after riding for long periods of time.  Cold weather also brings on the stiffness.

History:  Altario Shialt-eck-Gorrin, Altario Golden Shield in the ancient tongue, is the older of two boys born to Johkbar Shialt-eck-Gorrin, a wealthy landowner in Remusiat, at the northern edge of the Heath of Wilderon.  Their estate was known as Urimpaar, and they raised horses that were often sold to the army.  This estate had been in their family for countless generations, from the first patriarch, Teletar, of whom legends recount tales of him fighting with a Golden Shield. Being heir, Altario had a childhood that was spent learning to rule.  He was tutored 8 hours a day by a score of scholars, and trainers.  As a child, Altario was a quick study, and excelled at his lessons, making his tutors, and his father, very proud.

Though close to his younger brother, the wild and impetuous Denrykmar, Altario was secretly jealous of his younger sibling's freedom.  While he was given little freedom between his lessons, Denrykmar was allowed considerable latitude.  When their parents died from plague when he was only 16, Altario became head of the household, and his responsibilities lent him limited time for himself, which drove him and Denrykmar apart. 

At age 18, Altario met the beautiful Riztalyana, and the two fell instantly in love.  She was a young cleric, a healer that was being trained in a temple not far from Urimpaar.  A year later, Altario’s daughter, Nayriss, was born in a tough birth that nearly cost both mother and daughter their lives.   

Immediately after Nayriss’ birth, Altario served his country during the Fifth Orcish War.  Serving with distinction, he proved a capable leader, and a fine strategist.  When the war ended, Altario returned to Urimpaar, which had miraculously escaped the carnage unscathed.

For the next few years they led an uneventful but very happy life together, and when Nayriss turned 6, Sebastian, the cleric who had been most responsible for training Riz, insisted that Nayriss enter schooling at the temple.  Though hesitant, Altario could not dissuade Riz, who had sided with Sebastian, and the young girl went to train to become a cleric.  Shortly after, Riz died while giving birth to their son, who died days later as well.  Altario was devastated.  Following Riztalyana’s wishes, Nayriss continued her education at the temple. 

It was then that Denrykmar left Urimpaar, the family home, preferring the solitude that life as a ranger granted.  Altario has not seen him since, and only knew that Denrykmar was alive from the occasional promissory note that would come in for petty amounts of money.

The years passed without incident until 8 months ago.  After coming home for a visit, Nayriss was kidnapped while on her return trip to the temple.  There was no ransom demand, however, and it was then that Altario garnered the truth from Sebastian.  Nayriss was becoming a healer of substantial talent, able to call forth the power of the gods.  Altario learned that Riztalyana had also had exceptional skills.  It was in Sebastian's opinion that dark forces had taken Nayriss, though he had no answer for why. 

In the intervening months, Altario had been in search of Nayriss, following any clues to her whereabouts though, for the most part, the clues all led nowhere.  The last clue, given to him from a former ranger he had known in the war, had mentioned that she was in Santharia, in a province called Vardynn.  More precisely, in a town called Jernais.  So it is there that Altario now travels in his search.

Altario’s despair has begun to manifest itself in drinking and gambling.  As well, in his dreams, Riztalyana has begun to visit him, urging him in his quest.  He will never give up looking for her, and will scour the world over until he finds her.  He sometimes joins with others in quests to earn his keep.  He prefers to keep his identity known to only a few, as he does not want Nayriss’ captors to learn of his whereabouts.

Weapons: Altario keeps a dagger with him, once encrusted with gems, though long since pried out and used for money when his drinking and gambling had been excessive and unlucky.   His only other piece of equipment that is worth anything is the longsword he keeps always strapped to his hip.  It is the symbol of Urimpaar; his fathers elegant weapon, exquisitely crafted and etched, perfectly balanced for killing.  For hunting, he carries a rather nondescript bow and a quiver full of arrows. 

Belongings: In his saddlebags, he carries his equipment; a flint and steel, a sewing needle and thread, dried meat, a sharpening stone, and a change of clothes, finer than those he currently wears.  His horse has a worn but fine quality saddle, saddle blanket, bit, bridle and reins.  He carries a rope tied to the saddle, and a large cloth sack that holds his shield with family crest; a silver lightning strike across a black background.  He keeps it hidden except when a show of importance is required, but has a battle worn shield strapped to the horse that he uses when needed.  A waterskin hangs from the saddle.

Familiars: Altario rides a strong chestnut gelding, which he has taken to calling Horse, as he has gone through five horses so far in his quest.  It is a good horse, but in no way special.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Délmiés Avádrié on May 10, 2007, 12:13:56 AM
Contact Info:

And my CD is right here:

Name: Délmiés Avádrié
Gender: Female
Age: 89 (looks around 22)
Race: Elf
Tribe: Quaelhoirhim/ Ylfferhim mix
Occupation: Mage
Title:Wandering Enchantress
Hair Color: Light brown
Eye Color: Light Blue
Height: Delmies is 2 peds
Weight: Delmies is about 1 Pygge and 1 heb.
Character Portrait:

Physical Appearance:
Hair: Delmies' hair is a light brown with soft curls and falls down to her upper thigh. She usually wears it open, with a wreath of flowers, or up in a high ponytail.
Face: Delmies has a small, heartshaped face that's always brightened with a smile. It's rare that you see her without a smile. Delmies has high cheek bones and pointed ears (being an elf), and her cheeks are always flushed light pink.
Eyes: Delmies' eyes are large and expressive, they are a crisp, baby blue with small purple specks. They are bright with laughter whenever she, well, laughs, and sparkle when she is happy. Though they seem to dull when she's sad.
Nose: Delmies' nose is... normal and uplifted, but not so pointed and angled like some of the elves.
Mouth: Delmies' mouth or lips are small, cherry red, and soft. Though she does purse them when she is thinking, or the color will drain out of them when she is scared.

Body: Delmies has a very slender, yet curved figure. But her curves are more gentle. Her skin is pale, creamy, and seemed to glow faintly white in the dark. You can't really say that Delmies glides when she is walking, but it's not really walking either, more like somewhere in between. Delmies has petite waist and hands.  All together, it's quite graceful, but she can be playful when she wants to.

Clothes: Delmies doesn't like to wear bright flashy stuff, so she just sticks to either a simple white dress with white shoes, or white loose fit pants and shirt.
Jewelry: Delmies has simple jewelry in the form of a plain silver necklace with a purple gem between the ends of a crescent moon.

Personality: Raised in the higher levels of the elven kingdom, Delmies was taught to be polite, kind, and dignified. And she is all those things, though she is also very stubborn and determined. Once she decides that she is going to do something, you'll have a very hard time trying to convince her otherwise.

Delmies is also a very open person, who loves to laugh, and make new friends.  It's very easy to make Delmies laugh, because she basically cracks up at any joke, just as long as it's not that lame. Delmies also loves animals and is very soft hearted. She can't bear to see anyone in pain, other than her enemies, and even then, she tries her best not to kill them, just injure them.

-She can stand pain. Delmies is not easily tortured into telling something or giving something.
- Light and fast, making it easier for Delmies to ... say climb a tree. Nimble in other words
- Smart as in book smart. Delmies can read and write, and can do math and the like.
- Delmies can also use the fan but she's not awesome at it. She just learned it as an extra precaution.
- Delmies can also use magic, as she is a mage. Her element is water.

-First of all, Delmies likes to live in her own little universe, so she is always in a sort of dreamy state. She's not the sort of person who is super aware of her surroundings. Making it very easy to sneak up on her.
- Delmies is very curious. She likes to nose into things that she could do better to stay out of.
- She's not very careful. People say that curiosity should be exercised with caution, well, that's just something that Delmies doesn't have.
- Delmies also has a soft heart. She can't bear to see anyone in pain. She'd rather be in pain herself than see other people in pain. So, she just has to go an help people who need help, or seem like they need help.
- Delmies is always very optimistic. She can always find a bright side to a situation. And sometimes, that's not a good thing. For example, if she is stuck in a difficult situation, she'll just look on the positive side and that will make her not try as hard to get out of the difficult situation.
- She's also very stubborn. Once she decides something, you'll be wasting your time trying to convince her otherwise. Even if she makes the wrong decisions, she'll stick with them. Some people might call it determination, but others just call it plain stubbornness.

History: Mimi (nickname for Délmiés) was born into one of the higher ranks of the Quaelhoirhim Elves. But not so high that she was a royal. She was brought up to be dignified, polite, and kind to all other species. Her mother was of the Ylfferhim tribe. Her father was of the Quaelhoirhim tribe. During her childhood, she had been envied by most of the other young female Quaelhoirhim elves because of her beauty.

Mimi was trained with highly skilled teachers on magic as a result that she is quite good at this. She also learned how to fight with an armored fan, though she learned it later in her life on her travels. Mimi met a fan master and thought it was useful to have some fighting skills so she asked to train with him. He agreed and gave her the white fan she she has and trained her for some while, though it's not as long as many of his other students since she was traveling.

Mimi has been in quite a few battles, and her father was killed in one of that battles. Mimi shut herself out for a while after his death. She wandered and made friends with the animals as a result that she loves animals and can't see one in pain without helping. She came across Aurora (see Familiars) on a stormy day, and found her trapped between the gnarled roots of a tree. Delmies' mother still stays with her own tribe, but gave Mimi her greatest blessing when Mimi left to travel on her 70th birthday. Mimi decided to travel partly because she was curious as to what the rest of the land was like and partly because she felt that she needed to get away from the memories of her father.

Weapons: Delmies has 2 weapons, if you can count magic as a weapon. She also has a white armored fan, just in case.

Belongings:  She has in it the necessaries for survival, such as water, and a pouch to put them in. She also has a few coins.

Familiars: Delmies never goes anywhere without her white horse (Snowflake), and her black cat (Aurora). Both are very loyal and protective of Mimi. Aurora is usually seen riding on Mimi's shoulder, being such a small cat.

Magic: Mimi is a level 3 elemental mage, she attended various magic schools and was privately taught for a part of her life. As a result that she is only a level 3 mage. Delmies attended different magic schools because she wanted to experience the different teaching methods. Her Element is Water, some spells that she can cast are: Calm, Distract, Ice Touch, and Area of Frost. Mimi is still practicing magic though she practices them during her travels.

*Looks like a Quaelhoirhim Elf by appearance, but has the voice of the Ylfferhim Elves.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Leonie d'Ambert on May 16, 2007, 06:41:14 AM
Sorry for the delay in posting my CD. I didn't notice the thread, please be patient with me ^_^; I'm not doing this on purpose, but it might take me a little while to aquaint myself with everything.

My contact info is -
Or my AIM - iipuu iipuu

Name- Leonie d'Ambert

Gender- Female

Age- 22

Height- 1 Ped, 1 Fore, 2 Palmspans

Weight- 9 Hebs, 1 Hafeb, 1 Od

Eye Color- Silver Gray

Hair Color- Pale Blonde

Race- Human

Tribe- Helcrani

Occupation- Botanist

Title- Healer

Physical Appearance-
     She has fair skin, delicate rosy lips, a straight little nose, and a sweetly oval chin.  Not the blushing cheeks of a maid or the dark beauty of a seductress, but ivory skin, pearllike, without a blemish to disturb its smooth surface. Long silvery lashes frame soft gray eyes and long blonde hair cascades down her back in thick full waves that reaches down passed her thighs.  She stands not much taller than a child, the top of her head barely reaching the chest of an averaged size Helcrani man.  Despite her small stature, there is nothing childlike about her curves.  With firm young breasts, slightly more than a handful, soft round hips and a tiny trim waist, Leonie was put together quite nicely.

     She is dressed in a well-worn bliaut of soft white silk over a light blue chemise.  The girdle she wears with it is her most prized possession, and a gift from her mother.  It is 1.5 Peds of interlocking gold disks, each with a tiny flower engraved on its shiny round surface. She wears an intricate silver headdress with matching silver baubles, and on her feet a pair of soft leather slippers, padded with light blue velvet.

     She is good, kind, quick to mend any ill, ease any burden.  Although at times she may seem timid or shy, she is merely softspoken, gentle and calm.  Her temper is almost nonexistent, showing only when thoughts of her father come to mind, and even then she is more disgusted with him than angry.  A love of helping others and an extensive knowledge of plants and herbs were inherited from her mother before she passed away.  In her freetime she can be found tending her garden or exploring the woods in search of certain herbs.
     Even though her vassal, Sir Guibert Fitzalan, and her aunt Beatrix would have it other wise, Leonie's adventurous spirit could not be reined.  She enjoys going on long journeys across the land, taking with her only her two maids, Wilda and Mildred, and 10 men-at-arms, including Sir Guibert.

Botanist- Extensive knowledge of herbs and plants handed down to her by her mother. Medicinal herbs are her specialty.
Protection- She has 10 men-at-arms and one knight accompaning her when she travels, and enough men to occupy three keeps while she is at Pershwick.
Literate- The ability to read and write, used mainly so she can be her own steward, taking accounts of the money spent and earned.
Wealth- Her mother ensured that upon her death, Leonie would inherit three keeps that had belonged to her.  These keeps bring in enough profit to provide for herself, and her servants, knights, men-at-arms and villagers.

Strength- She possesses no extensive physical strength and relies on others to assist her when it comes to manual labor.
Combat- Posesses no knowledge of any type of hand-to-hand fighting, making her catious about the kind of people she comes near.
Curiosity- When her interest is piqued, she will attempt to learn as much as she can about the subject in question. This often gets her in trouble, for she persues this knowledge no matter the danger involved.
Nyctophobia- She has a fear that something catastrophic will happen to her at night. When left alone in the dark she gets a feeling that something sinister is just out of sight and at arms reach, waiting for its moment to strike.

     Pershwick was an old keep located in Milken Grad, designed neither for comfort nor to accommodate guests.  The hall was large, but hadn't been altered since it was built a hundred years ago.  Leonie's chamber was partitioned off the dais end of the hall with wooden boards.  She shared the room with her Aunt Beatrix, more board dividing the room in half to give each lady a little privacy.  There were no women's quarters, and no other chambers off the hall or above it, as there were in some of the new keeps.  The servants slept in the hall, and the men-at-arms in the tower, where Sir Guibert also slept.

     Rough though it was, Pershwick was home to Leonie, and had been for the last six years.  Since coming here she had not returned once to Montwyn, her birthplace.  Nor had she seen her father. Yet Montwyn Castle was only five miles away.  In that castle lived her father, Sir William, and his new wife, Lady Judith, who had married him the year after Leonie's mother, Elisabeth, died. Unknown to Leonie, or anyone else, was that Sir William was overwhelmed with such grief after losing his wife that seeing his daughter only reminded him that his sweet Elisabeth was gone.  He sent her away to Pershwick only for a short time until he he began consuming strong spirits constantly, rarely sober and oblivious to the time that was passing and to his daughters needs. 

     If Leonie could no longer summon a kind though for her father, no one blamed her.  From having a happy childhood and two loving parents to losing both parents in one stroke was a cruel fate, and wholly undeserved.

     She had once loved her father will all her heart.  Now she felt very little for him.  At times she cursed him.  Those times occurred when he sent his servants to raid her stores for lavish entertainments - and not only was Pershwick involved, but Rethel and Marhill keeps as well.  They, too, were hers. A gift from her mother.  He never sent a word to his daughter, but he reaped the benefits of her hard work, taking her profits and rents.

     However, he'd had far less success in the last few years as Leonie learned how to outfox the Montwyn steward.  When he came calling with his list, her storerooms were nearly empty, her hoards hidden throughout the keep in unlikely places.  So also she hid her spices and cloth bought from the merchants of Rethel, for Lady Judith sometimes arrived with the steward, and Lady Judith felt she could make free with anything she found at Pershwick.

     Leonie's cunning sometimes went awry when she couldn't remember all of her hiding places. But rather than give up her plan or confide her deceit to the Pershiwck clerk and ask his help, she convinced him to teach her to read and write. That way, she was able to keep records of her maze of hiding places.  Now her villagers no longer faced starvation, and her own table was full. No thanks due her father for any of that.

     The oldest of Elisabeth's sisters, Beatrix had long been a widow.  She had lost her dower lands to her husband's relatives when he died, and hadn't married again.  She insisted she liked it that way.  She had lived with her brother, the earl of Shefford, until Elisabeth's death.  Soon after, Leonie was cast on her vassal, Guibert Fitzalan, and Aunt Beatrix felt it her duty to stay and take care of her niece.

     More likely it was Leonie who did the care-taking, for Beatrix was a timid woman.  Even the isolation of Pershwick keep hadn't made her bolder.  Being one of the first children born to the late earl of Shefford, she had known the earl at his stormiest, whereas Elisabeth, the youngest, knew the earl as a mellow man and doting father.

     Leonie did not know the present earl, whose holding was in the north, far from the midlands.  When she's reached a marriageable age and begun to hope for a husband, she had wanted to contact her uncle.  Aunt Beatrix had explained, kindly, that with eight brothers and sisters and dozens of nieces and nephews besides his own children and their children, the earl would surely not concern himself with the daughter of a sister who had not married well and was now dead.

     Leonie, fifteen then and closed away from the world, began to think she would never marry.  But pride soon asserted itself, pride that didn't permit her to ask for help from relatives who neither knew her nor ever inquired after her.

     After a time she began to think she might be better off without a husband.  The only threat was being branded a spinster, and she was lady of her own keep, independent, answerable to only her father who never approached her and seemed unlikely to show any further interest in her.

     It was a unique and enviable position, she told herself after those first longings for romance had been stifled.  Most brides did not even know their husbands before they were wed, and were likely to find themselves the property of an old man, a cruel man, or an indifferent man. It was doubtful that she'd be able to married for love.

     So Leonie came to believe she was fortunate.  The only thing she wanted to change was her isolation, and that was what caused her to venture to places she had never seen before.  Her adventures took her from the Rahaz-Dath Desert all the way north to the Ashmarian lands.  Then further north to the Lands of Kuglimz, the Peninsula of Iol and then finally to Caaehl'heroth. 

     Travelling allowed her to research and collect herbs and plants that she couldn't find by being confined to Milken Grad.  Her collection of herbs filled, and some of her need for adventure quelled, she returned home, only to plan her next exciting journey, though not quite sure where it would take her.

Weapons- A small silver dagger, saved from being nondescript by an intricate dove finely chisled into the blade. The hilt is 1 palmspan long and inlaided with mother-of-pearl, while the blade itself is 1 Palmspan, 7 Nailsbreadths, and 3 Grains long. While she is away from home she keeps it on her person at all times, usually concealed in a small leather sheath attacthed to her midthigh.

Familiars- When she travels, Leonie brings along her two maids, Wilda and Mildred, as well as her vassal and knight Sir Guibert and 10 men-at-arms for her protection.

-And assortment of clothes and a couple baubles and broaches
-A medicine box containing herbs and other medicines
-Two cloaks, one black and one cream colored
-Pouch for money
-One old, worn out book on herbs

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Khel on May 16, 2007, 09:57:49 AM
Name: Khel
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Race: Human
Tribe: Eyelian, of the Eagle Clan.
Occupation: Rogue/Merchant
Title: Rogue

Height: 1.6 ped
Weight: 1 Pygge, 3 Hebs
Hair Colour: Raven
Eye Colour: Almost completely black, with a tint of purple.

Physical Appearance
  Khel is short, fairly slender, and agile. She has long, raven hair, a round face, and very unfriendly, faintly purple eyes. Rough hands show a lifetime of exploring and hard work. Nimble fingers serve to craft arrows and other tools.
  Khel likes to be comfortable and able to move in whatever clothing she is wearing.  Uncharacteristic of women in her tribe, Khel wears no jewelry. Her clothes are simple and easy to move in, ranging in tans, greens, and other earth tone colors. Also uncharacteristic, Khel wears soft leather boots and a leather jerkin she obtained in her wanderings. A hooded cloak serves to warm her, and in chilly mornings, soft leather gloves warm her hands.

     Khel has a ranging personality. She is irritable, she finds being around noise, unrest, and immaturity irritating to her. Along with irritability, Khel is flighty in her decision making, neither making tough decisions on her own, or choosing a decision at all. Hard-headed due to solitude and total independence, Khel  is hard to work with and difficult to befriend.

  Although, pushing past the stubborn young lady is easy if you know the trick. Underneath, Khel is overly-giving, if you want something, Khel will probably give it to you. She has no backbone once you gain her trust. Once you reveal something about yourself, Khel will probably respond with her life's story. She seems to feed off of other people's openness.  Due to witty, sarcastic remarks, Khel finds herself with few close friends, but is able to laugh and joke about almost anything with those few-revealing her good nature underneath all the solitude.

  Khel is very concerned with respect. She's always respected and been at one with the creatures around her, and she demands the same from all other species. Khel is also a woman of deep faith. Life and all its creatures have value to her.

Strengths and Weaknesses
Sneaking/light of foot/agile: Khel is good in close combat.
Good with small knives/daggers: Although skilled with hands and feet, Khel can fight well with a dagger on her person.
Good with bow and arrow, as well as hunting: Khel can find food for herself sufficiently.
Khel also loves to sing, and she can do so somewhat well.
Khel is loyal and trustworthy. Once you gain her trust, she'll return it in full force. She understands and values friendship to no end.
Khel is intelligent and learns at a quick pace. Solitude gifted her with keen eyes to take in her surroundings and learn quickly the ways of her current environment.
Solitude: Khel can be very, very hard to cooperate with, working with other humans is difficult for her.
Irritable and flighty: It’s hard for Khel to make serious decisions, causing distress in pressing situations. This flightiness caused Khel to lose her background, her own lineage and identity.
Slow to think: Khel may be good with words, or at least somewhat sarcastic/witty remarks, but in battle or a confusing situation, she can stumble over her words or lose blance.
Clumsy. In thought and action... her wittiness is a major cover-up.

     Khel spent a lot of her childhood alone. This wasn't forced, it was by choice. A very solitary child, she spent her time contemplating things like... say, the meaning of life. She always appreciated nature even from a young age, and due to this Khel was not in touch with friends her age while growing up. A lot of time was spent in the marketplace area, befriending the old blacksmith or the old woman barely scraping by. Due to time spent in the smithy, or befriending the elderly fighter on the outskirts town, Khel developed skills most young girls wouldn't have dreamed of learning. Khel took an outward look at things, not focusing on home and family, but overly-curious at the world outside of what she knew and on the creatures around her. Since she spent a lot of time in the forest, learning the arts of hunting and archery, Khel's greatest teacher and parental figure as she got older was a huntsman. She lost touch of this huntsman in her wanderings, straying far from her village while hunting.

     Odd jobs for the huntsman and as a young girl for citizens of her villiage near the Vale of the Brownies in Southern Sarvonia provided Khel with means to clothe herself, fill a small purse, and carry a small sack which serves for her to carry some small tools and morsels. Khel also owns a small cart and a pony, Bristol.

     As life passed her by and she roamed farther and farther from home, Khel forgot family. She forgot those at home and found herself completely at peace with nature and immersed in the life of the creatures around her. Over time, she realized she was entirely lost. Her identity, her origin, her self-worth. Now, on a path to recover herself and discover what she missed as a child, Khel finds herself far from home, knowing only that she must travel home and rediscover herself. Her only hesitation in the matter is that she may be refused by her kin due to her differences from them. As she travels, Khel poses as a merchant, but has very little possessions as her supply and demand runs dry. From her wanderings, though, Khel has learned and taken on much of others, especially races other than her own, and possesses many characteristics not of Eyelian origin.

Khel has in her possession a bow and arrows she crafted herself, as well as a small dagger tucked in her boot --given to her as a child.

Khel carries only a small amount of items. She has some food in a small pack and a waterskin. Khel also acquired a small cart to carry items, as well as a horse to pull said cart.

Khel has a small pony, Bristol, purchased with the cart.

My contact email is:
or for IM

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Petros Greenvale on September 13, 2007, 01:29:41 AM
Ta dah! Thanks again Capher! :heart:

You can contacet me by P.M...ill always get it that way! :hug:

Name: Petros Greenvale


Gender: Male

Height: 2 peds,2 handspans

Weight:1 Pygge, 1 Hafeb, 2 Ods

Hair Color: Ginger

Eye Color: Green

Race: Elf



Title: Musical Mage

Physical Appearance:

Although Petros is 34 years old he has the appearance of a 17 year old human. Petros is extremely tall for his age and tribe ,because of this and his low weight he is incredibly thin and lanky, in fact many people around the school have nicknamed him “beanpole”. Despite his lankiness he is in no way gaunt. His face is relatively pale because of his hours of study, but he has a slight rosiness around the cheeks, and his striking green eyes are framed by thin but bushy ginger eyebrows. His cheekbones are slightly protruding and his chin ends in a slight cleft. His arms and legs are just as narrow as the rest of his body and as a result he is not very physically strong . His hands are large  and calloused (because of his harp playing) and his long and slender fingers end with shoddy and bitten nails. Petros has ginger hair, it is shaggy and unkempt and ends just about four fingers up from the shoulder and you can just see the ends of his long ears pointing through. The ginger of his hair and the emerald green of his eyes make quite an interesting contrast. In general Petros is quite an attractive individual.

Petros just looks like your stereotypical wizard from afar but as you look more closely you can see that he differs from his fellow mages by the fact that his robes are coloured on the shades of the forest. His whole outfit comprises of three parts: A white inner tunic which can be removed or added depending on the weather, A green velvet upper robe with gold embroidery around the hem which is fastened by artistic circular gold buttons. A lower robe that matches the upper one except from the fact that it has no buttons. This strange but interesting attire is topped off with a green mages hat which is made from a rougher material and has gold embroidery all the way round the edge. This gold decor is a saying his mother used to use, it is in styrash but in tharian it reads "magic is the voice of nature, but music is the voice of the soul". Despite his drastic career change he has not changed his outfit because he is...shall we say not the richest of men, also he just likes the colour!. It is one of Petros's philosophies that shoes are restricting, so he is often found wandering around bare foot.


Petros is a timid but jolly person who is very mature for his age. His timidity results in him being very antisocial and he finds it difficult to make friends. If you do happen to befriend Petros however, you will find him to be an incredibly nice and kind guy. He will always go out of his to help someone and is often found giving extra help to his fellow students at the school of tunes in Bardavos, who are struggling with the complicated Santharian musical notation.

He is very hardworking and is usually found swamped in books on musical theory in the library or practicing his Harp ability in an empty class room or lecture theatre. He always puts his musical studies in front of socializing. For instance when the other students try to intice him to join them in sampling the ale available in the local tavern, he will always decline and return to his conversations with his professors or continue his studies. Whenever there is an assignment put forward by his professors he will complete it under the allocated time span and with extended content.

Petros is a neat and tidy person who cant stand clutter and everything in his little house is where it should be. He will often tidy his other house mates mess up whether they like it or not.

Because of his attractive appearance he receives quite a lot of attention from the ladies (and some of the gentlemen as well!!) but because he is (relatively) innocent and timid he just doesn’t know how to act in those kind of situations. So instead of taking advantage of the flirting  he is often seen running away like a scared puppy with his tail between his legs, usually followed by the laughter of his friends.

Even when you find a time when Petros is not practicing you'll find him indulging in his compositional abilities and you'll see him frantically jotting down all the notes that come into his head. Petros is a very talented musician who is good at all the instruments he tries but he is exceptionally talented at the harp. Not many people have heard him play because of his shyness and lack of confidence but his music has been commented as being “candy for the ears” by one of his professors.


. Petros is highly intelligent, which allows him to absorb extensive amounts of knowledge and use it  later on. It also allows him to achieve very good grades in school.

.He has basic knowledge in wind magic and  has achieved level 2. this allows him to cast simple spells to protect himself in the rare occasions that he has to. apart from this he has no means of defending himself.

.He is a  highly skilled musician and he uses this to his advantage by giving harp lessons  to students around the school. This has been very successful because there has been a sudden explosion in the number of people playing wind instruments at the school, and string players are becoming a dying breed.


.Petros is very shy and timid. This drastically effects his social skills and makes him rubbish at bartering ,haggling and making friends.

.He is not robust and can be knocked out cold by a single blow, this also results in plenty broken bones and the fact that he bruises like a banana.

.Although Petros has a mind of steel he is very weak physically which means that he cant lift very heavy objects and it also makes him useless at hand to hand combat.

.Petros cant cope well under pressure and gets very nervous at times. because he is so used to taking things at his own pace. This results in him freezing on the spot when havig to do oral assignments in front of his peers e.t.c, although when he is playing his harp however this nervousness vanishes.


Petros was born on the 6th day of the month of Dál'injerá (Rising sun). His mother and father had a great shock when Petros was born with ginger hair, which came as a bit of a suprise because they were both blonds. They took it as a gift instead of a burden and it just made them love him even more.

One day when Petros was only two years old his parents went out into the surrounding forest to forage for berries and nuts but neither of them ever returned. Petros's parents were respected members of the Aellenrhim community and many went out to search for them, but no traces were ever found. Many rumours circulated about the circumstances but no one ever found out the real cause of their disappearence. His parents aren't a subject that Petros will usually talk about.

Now an orphan and having no living relatives Petros was left all by himself in the world. He eventually became the responsability of his parents closest friends, a redbark brownie couple. They knew each other since back when both couples were in their prime and they would often go on adventures to find rare plants together in the warnaka mountains,were they would find their fair share of foes to fight.

The Woman was a renowned life mage, and her companion was a master Tailor and botanist. The couple were not capable of having their own children and thus, treated Petros like their very own kin. They moved into the now empty Seeánfeárn and brought up their new giant of a son with the utmost care.

By the age of four Petros was already triple the size of his brownie parents, and he started to receive an education with other members of his clan who were the same age as him. From his very first day Petros was teased and bullied and acquired the nickname freaky greenvale because of his great height and red hair. Just to add to his uniqueness Petros failed the archery course, which was supposed to easiest course because of his clans natural talent with a bow. Despite this Petros excelled at every academical course and always achieved the top grades in his class.

Petros did not have a very happy childhood and was described by his teacher as being:"too reserved and solemn for his own good". One day petros's mother was watching him from a window, being harassed by some other children as he was walking home from school one day. He noticed that the more he got agitated the more the  surrounding wind speed increased. Because of her expertise on the matter she knew that Petros had natural ability in the magical arts, and it would be a crime to let it go to waste. So the next day his mother withdrew him from school (he had already outranked all his peers academically by now anyway), and started to share her vast knowledge of Brownie magic and life magic with him.

Although his brownie mother insisted on teaching him life magic, Petros did not believe in draining another life form to further your own needs. Petros declined any further magical education from his mother and started to further his own dream, which was to become a talented musician. His mother was not at all pleased with Petros's choice but she had to respect it. His brownie father (although now rather rusty) was once a talented Black birch batonist and was more than happy to oblige when his son asked him to teach him how to play. But first he had to find himself an instrument for his brownie fathers Black Birch baton was about the size of his pinky.

 He inquired around the locals and discovered that his former teacher had one in her possesion. She was happy to give him it, but on one condition. That he come round to her Seeánfeárn and tend to her garden every once in a while. Petros agreed and received his very first Black Birch Baton. And so he began his practice and garden tending. As he tended his ex-teachers garden every once in a while, he began to become quite knowledgeable in the ways of a botanist. His life now revolved around studying musical theory and practicing his Black Birch Baton, but alas he was stopped in his tracks when his brownie mother said that no musical practice would be aloud in the household
(probably because she was jealous that Petros chose her spouses areas of expertise over her own), so Petros and his father defiantly took their practice to a nearby woodland clearing

By the age of 17 Petros had become an aspiring young musician(academically and practically). Petros's brownie mother was sure that his kind of hardworking , his nonstop practice and his anti socialness was unhealthy, so she urged him to go outside and mingle with elves his same age but he would always stay put and continue his studies.

One day while he was rumaging for a book on the principal of Ahm in a storage house Petros stumbled upon a dusty but beautiful harp. It was made of shiny rosewood and stood about 1.2 peds high, along the soundpost were exquisite elven carvings of trees and animals and on the top of the support post was a little gold inlay which read in styrash "Magic is the voice of nature but music is the voice of the soul". He hadn't heard her play but he had stories about his mothers masterful harp playing and the fact that she was known for her jolly, uplifting music santharia over. So he automatically assumed that it belonged to her, so he dusted it down with the sleeve of his tunic and strugglingly carried it back to the Seeánfeárn and inquired about its origin with his brownie mother. It was indeed his mothers and it was crafted for her by his father as a romantic gift when they first got married. Petros carefully gave it a proper clean then returned to the storage house to retrieve the book on the principle of Ahm so that he could continue his studies.

A few days later Petros decided to take his mother up on the advice she gave him and he took a break from his Black Birch Baton and plodded out of his home at 6 in the morning with his mothers harp and went into the nearby forest to see if he could get a tune out of it. And a tune he could definetly get out of it, within a few hours Petros could already get a few jolly jigs out of the thing, and it was then that he realised for the first time that he was good at something non academical.

From then on in Petros kept a steady balance between his harp practice and Black Birch Baton(but he did find some time for some extra harp!! )

By the age of 24 he had became quite an expert at both the harp and Black Birch Baton. on His 24th birthday  he was awoken by the not so delightfull news that he was being sent to Ximax to study at the academy of magic, although he really didn't want to go he didnt want to upset his mother further. It was at that point that Petros knew that he would have to balance the creative and academic aspects of his personality. It was not the only great surprise of that day however, his mother had a little something for him to (probably because she felt bad for being "antimusic"). She gave him a large green package tied tightly shut by an ivy vine. The minute Petros saw the package he knew exactly what it was (its like when you get a book or a pair of socks at Christmas) it was a new Black Birch Baton ,it wasn't until he opened the package that he realised what a beautiful instrument it was. it was made of a highly polished rich black birch wood with Aurium keys and it even had a top quality reed as well. And to top that off it even came with its own carrying case and a set of extra reeds. Petros has always wondered how his brownie mother could come across such a masterpiece,but didn't think it appropriate to inquire.

The next morning Petros lay on the floor to kiss his mother goodbye (because of his great height and her liliputionism) and set off on the long road to ximax with his satchel on his back and and his harp tied to his shoulder by some ivy. Before this Petros had never set foot outside the bolder and he found the exotic new world more interesting than he thought. It is on his journey that he notices that his brownie mother has embroidered the phrase that was on the harp onto his.

Because of his mothers extensive knowledge of magic (and friends in high places), he was given a small room in the tower of wind magic at the academy.

When he arrived at the academy and had settled in, he found it to be nothing like he was worse!!! all it was was a bunch of stuck of mages wandering from place to place muttering magical theorem to themselves ( although he did not think this of all the new attenders of the academy however because some of the most nicest and brilliant people he had ever met, were introduced to him in the academy ).

One day Petros was sitting alone in the gloomy wasted wizard tavern reading a book on wind magic. When he first met (his soon to be best friend) Morgana Elwood.

Petros was sitting alone at the bar engrossed in a book about wind magic and sipping on a glass of water. When the door swung open and in strolled a tom boyish, raven haired human woman (around his own physical age). She walked across the creaky wooden floor and sat down at the stool next to him, and waved the bartender over.

" Can i have an ale please good sir... and one for my good friend here to" *she gives Petros a slight nudge*. (He begins to go red with nervousness). and looks up slightly from his book and replies.
"emm...No thankyou i don't drink"

" Well you do now!" shes says with a grin. she gives the bartender a wink and he goes to fetch the beverages.

"So while were on a drinks buying basis, I'm Morgana , but every one just calls me Morgy" she holds out a small bony hand, which hangs awkwardly in the air as Petros analyses the situation. And after a few second he obliges, shaking her hand.

"I'm Petros...pleased to meet you"

Morgana just brushes off what Petros has just said and says snidely

" ha! call that a handshake? what are you...A woman?" she looks him over just to make sure that he isn't actually a woman and comes across his long ears poking through his shaggy hair.

"oh no wait, your just an elf, that explains it" she comments with a smile. A couple of dwarves who were sitting in the corner obviously found her comment amusing for they spat out the ale they were drinking and broke out into a fit of laughter. The bartender however (when he returns with the drinks) is not amused and shoots looks that could turn milk sour at the dwarves for giving him yet another job to do. Petros instantly turns the colour of beetroot and trys to ignore the laughter of the dwarves.

" Oh look our ales have arrived...wanna see who can finish theirs first" she says playfully

" eh... i really shouldn't..." but before Petros could finish Morgana  has already started to shout the countdown. on 1 Petros just thinks "oh what the hell",and on "go!!!" he has already started to down his tankard of ale. But alas when he is just about half way through his beverage, morgana has already slammed her tankard on the bar in triumph. And after a good thirty blinks Petros repeats this action. The ale has left him all warm inside and pleased that he is actually joining in the fun for once.

" About time!!" she yells

"best out of three?" he asks playfully

"Bring it on elf boy!!"

They order more ales and Petros is defeated each time.  After the third round Petros is starting to feel a little giddy and starts to tell Morgana about himself (whether she likes it or not).  He tells her about his parents and his brownie parents, he tells her about how he was sent to the academy, and he tells her about his musical aspirations. It is this that triggers her to tell him about her own life. He finds out that she to is an orphan although she was left to fend for herself with no brownie guardians to fall back on, that she is from the fair city of Bardavos, and most importantly she is currently studying at the school of tunes and she plays the flute.

" i may not look like it but i am a talented musician you know" she says with a slight hint of arrogance

"join the club!" Petros says through a smile

The converstion continues in this matter for a few minutes, until Morgy blurts out...

"oh by the way Petros i know that we've just met and all but i was wondering...would you like to come back to bardavos with me? I'm leaving tomorrow morning and Ive got a house and everything, you can stay with me! also I'm sure they would let you into the school of tunes and everything i know its sudden but.."

Petros is a little shocked by this question and absolutely joyous that he finally has a chance to leave this wretched city and follow his one true dream.  But then he sees images of his brownie father in his head and thought of how disappointed he'd be.

" i don't know morgana..." Petros mumbles reluctantly

" Tell you what you can sleep on it, i will have a horse and cart ready by tomorrow morning, and i will wait outside this tavern. If your not here by first light ill assume that you've decided to stay" she says this as shes getting up from her stool.

"i have to go and prepare now... ill see you tomorrow" shes says ruffling his hair. she leaves some coins on the table to pay for the ales and walks out the swing door.

" be there or be square" she shout's playfully from the street.

After he tipped the bartender he returned back to his little room in the academy. and drapes himself over his small bed. As he lies there thinking about what Morgana said,  he realises that tonight was by far the most fun he'd ever had in his life, and for once someone has showed him kindness. Within minutes his mind has been made up.

He Will go to bardavos!!

By early morning he has already gathered his things and leaves a note telling his professors of his departure pinned to his door and makes his way through the maze of corridors towards the Wasted wizard. When he arrives ,Morgana is exactly where she said he would be and her face lights up when she sees him.

"i thought you werent coming...boy you proved me wrong!!!"

Petros just grinned at her and jumped into the back of the cart. It took 3 weeks and numerous stops but Petros and Morgana eventually reach bardavos. Morgana shares a small cottage just out of town with a few of her fellow students of the school of tunes.

After some persuasion and an audition Petros and his talents were accepted into the school of tunes ,where he still happilly attends.



 42 string rosewood harp standing 1.2 peds high, constructed by his father for his mother as a romantic gift. It has forest carvings on the sound post. There are also 42 brass levers on top of the strings which are attached to a blade and when the blade comes in contact with the string it raises it up a semitone. It is too big to be constantly carried around, so he only takes it with him when necessary nd he usually just leaves his little house.

Brown satchel with two straps which make it capable to be hung around the back. it has two inner pockets capable of holding quills and ink and a larger main area for books.

Various books: The principle of Ahm
                    Brownie magic and its practitioners
                    the diary of a life mage
                    life magic principles
                     A documentary on the divine Arvins
                     A documentary on the divine Eyasha
                     Elemental magic for dummies
                    Musician's guide to Music
                     Aellenrhim anthems
                     A book containing blank manuscript paper

 Excuisite, single piece Black Birch baton, with Aurium keys. it has its own carrying case and set of strength 7 reeds.


Everywhere this Aellenrhim mage goes, a family of chickens accompanies him on his journey. This troupe of fowl friends comprises of a cocky yet loving mother hen, originally named "Feathers" and 7 jolly little chicks named... Chubbles, Fluffles, Fuzzles, Puffles, Buffles, Muffles and Ingrid. Although their mother has plain white plumage, these joly little chicks are gifted with "eggstravagant" yellow down that make them easy to spot, whether it be by by Petros or their mother. Although theve grown an unbreakable bond between their new found Aellenrhim friend, they are still the ones calling all the shots. And always insist in hitch hiking in Petros's satchel, which they have also grown quite attched to.

Petros crossed fates with these feathered friends when he was visiting a rather nice festival up in Salsair...

 Also, occasionally his best friend Morgana Elwood tags along with him on his journeys (although more commonly its the other way around!). And on these common occasions his feathered friends are spoilt like nothing else, and recieve treat after treat from his animal loving human friend.


Level 1-This level was very easy for Petros to achieve thanks to his fathers extensive knowledge and his natural ability. He paid attention in all lessons and handed in all homework in on time, and this obviously paid off as he achieved level one.
 Although Petros did not want to spend the rest of his life a mage he put as much effort into his magical training as his musical practice. Although fizzling spells were common he would always practice them until he got them right. A steady balance of nights in the library at study and full days practicing his spells in the tower of wind allowed him to achieve

 level 2- Although Petros has abandoned his magical education for his music, he still makes frequent visits to the academy. And has made a compromise with his father that he will continue his studies whenever he is in town, so as a result Petros's magical career is far from over.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Kaldez’Yadra on September 14, 2007, 08:28:34 PM
There you are, it's in sig also you can contact me by pm or my hotmail/email which is:

Name: Kaldez'Yadra

Gender: Male

Age: 29

Race: Human

Tribe: Kasumarii

Occupation: Assassin

Title: Searcher

Height: 1.8 ped

Weight: 1 pygge 3.5 hebs

Eye color: Vontromarine colored eyes

Hair color: Cyhalloian snow colored hair

Overview: Kaldez is a man of powerful emotion, though it does not seem this way to those who have seen him. Kaldez keeps his reputation hidden so as to not have his identity known to all, those who tell who he is to others without his permission often never awaken the next morning. Those who know who he is however respect and fear him do to his deadly skill.

Appearance/Physical: He is clean shaven with short cropped hair. Kaldez's skin is of a pale yellow tone due to the weather of the northern continent. Kaldez is Kaldez is considered tall by his people. He has a red K tattooed on the back of his left hand and a black Y on the back of his right hand, each letter representing part of his name (those who know of him have spread rumors that he did these tattoos himself using the blood of the first person he killed).

Clothing: Kaldez wears close fitting Cyhalloian snow colored clothing while hunting in the wilderness and snow. Accompanying this outfit is a purposefully shredded hooded cape that, when flapping in the wind, looks like snow blowing through the air (this Camouflage make him appear to be part of the environment) and gloves of the same color. When in combat Kaldez will often wear a leather jerkin and leggings, both dyed Cyhalloian snow colored to match the rest of his outfit. When in town, however, Kaldez wears jet black shirt and pants with a crimson scarf and cape (he wears these as a symbol of his job and goal, the crimson color represents blood, and the scarf hides his features, the cape just looks cool).

Personality:  Kaldez is determined and calm; he is not easily angered or provoked into fighting.  Kaldez is Stoic with little emotion showing through his grim features, he is actually a storm of emotion within. Most prominent of these are hatred and anger, for he still has not sated his want for revenge of the deaths of his parents. He feels a great need to help all those who cannot help themselves or need help. Though he seems like a rock with no feelings or concern.  When spoken to Kaldez always meets the speaker's eyes with a steely look. Kaldez does not like the prctice of drinking alchohal, specificaly ale and brandy, though he may enjoy a mug of mulled wine on occasion.

1) Calm: Because of experiences of his youth, he is hard to anger do to the fact that he does not want to se anymore pointless violence unless he cannot avoid it or it is part of his job.

2)Wilderness Stealth: Living the life of a hunter, and also being the son of a skilled Kasumarii warrior who was trained in the art of assassination, Kaldez has learned to use the environment to his advantage being very stealthy, making little noise in the wilderness much like a hunting wolf or fox.

3Assassin skills: Kaldez was taught the way of the Assassin by his Uncle Kaldez, Kaldez learned of blending into a crowd and hiding in a metropolitan/urban environment, also to walk silently on the paved roads(anything from just gravel to true actual laid out slabs) and unpaved(you can tell they are road, no modification) roads.

4)Weapon Proficiency: Kaldez has become very proficient in the art of wielding a Falchion and moonblade together, for he spent many years of his youth focusing on training with these two weapons only.

5) Weapon Proficiency: Do to extensive training from an old man met on his journey's Kaldez has also become proficient with his 5 point seastars.

1) Aiding the Helpless: Though hard to provoke, the suffering of the helpless causes him to act no matter what his instincts tell him. This can lead to him rushing someone with no thought or use of his skills, making him very vulnerable.

2) Antisocial: He has a hard time speaking to people do to his lack of contact with people on a regular basis. Also many find talking to him unnerving. These facts make gathering information very hard for him.

3) Ribs: When Kaldez was young and learning stealth from his father (Kaldez was trying to avoid his fathers detection), he fell from a tree. The fall broke 3 of his ribs, and the pain from this injury still lingers for one of the ribs never truly mended, making Kaldez's chest extremely sensitive. This injury also causes Kaldez to be subjected to occasional pains on the right side of his chest.

4) Reputation: Though he attempts to keep it hidden this is hard, and those who do know of him highly dislike even the sight of him.

5) Family: His family has a ruff history of being condemned by false accusation though none truly know of the falseness of these condemnments (such as his uncles). Causing him to be taunted by those who know of his lineage.

6) Dream: Kaldez’s dreams are constantly haunted by one or many faceless strangers overpowering him like they had his parents while ridiculing and taunting him. These horrid nightmares often lead to lack of sleep and violent thrashing while asleep.

Background/History: Background/History: Kaldez’Yadra is the son of an experienced solitary Kasumarii warrior and his wife. Kaldez once asked his father Hulfnor when he was young, "Why don't we live in the city like the rest of our people, Papa?”  His father told him this story: Kaldez's father moved his wife and himself away from the cities and the government of the Kasumarii because of the hanging of his brother.

(Hulfnor’s Story: His brother was hung for supposed mutiny on the battle field and for the death of a few Kasumarii warriors fighting beside him; his accuser was kept anonymous, thus Kaldez's father couldn't seek out and kill the man for revenge.  The government believed the accuser and hung Hulfnor's brother. Hulfnor however knew that this accusation was false for he had fought alongside his brother for many years; however, he could not persuade the representatives to adjudicate otherwise. So his brother was hung, Hulfnor lost all faith in other Kasumarii besides his wife and other family, and he and his wife moved away from Kasumarii civilization to live alone in peace.)

            Kaldez's father began teaching him how to wield the moonblade with 2 hands and with an additional weapon at the age of 6.  His father also taught him how to effectively use stealth to kill.  Kaldez's mother taught him the art of wielding a Falchion singly or with the moonblade.

When Kaldez reached the age of 10 his father decided his son was old enough to begin his training as an assassin, not only in the lands of Cyhalloi and the tent cities of its people, but in other lands, for Hulfnor had ambitions for his son to leave the frozen land of the northern continent. He began by teaching Kaldez first in the art of hiding oneself in the wild, concealment in sparse brush, trees, or simply snow (which is similar to hiding in long grass), and how to track/recognize someone doing the same. About 5 months into this training, Kaldez was hidden in a tree when he slipped and fell, the fall broke three of his ribs on the right side of his chest, luckily none of the fractured bones pierced his lung or any other vital organs, this injury still causes him pain from time to time. After this injury Kaldez was not able to continue his training for half a year (is this sufficient, insufficient, or overkill?). Once Kaldez’s wilderness training was complete, his mother asked her brother, who she loved dearly enough to name her son after, a trained Korenjaan assassin, who lived with the group of Kasumarii that Kaldez’s family had been staying close too, to allow Kaldez to live with and learn from him for as long as it took to train him. Uncle Kaldez excepted his sister’s request and took Kaldez in to train him in the way of an assassin. So Kaldez lived with his uncle traveling with the Kasumarii and learning how to conceal himself in a crowd or urban environment, and how to find someone attempting to hide themselves in such a way, what signs to look for, such as the way they may carry themselves in a hunched down sort of way for example, also he taught Kaldez of how to hide in a city though this teaching was all verbal do to lack of permanent settlements besides the towers of Ice Elves. After years of training his uncle Kaldez was deemed ready to learn and improve his skills on his own and was sent back to his parents with A necklace resembling the one his father wore except this one bore the crest of Korenjaan, this necklace was not only a symbol of the completion of his training but of his uncles belief that he was worthy and proud.

When Kaldez, now 19, returned to his parents he continued his training with the swords under there guidance. When Kaldez reached the age of 20 his Father gave to Kaldez his moonblade which had been past from father to eldest son for 10 generations, Kaldez being the 11th, and his necklace which had been passed down the family for as many if not more generations. And his mother gave to him her Falchion, which had been given to her by her mother who had won it off a foreign merchant, how she won it she did not tell. Kaldez’s life after this went fine for 2 years at least…

           One day when returning from hunting, Kaldez, now 22, found the house in shambles and his father's mangled and lifeless corpse, along with many humanoid tracks and bloody trails where bodies were surely dragged away. While mourning his father’s death and burying the body he realized the absence of his mother or any sign of her. He searched around the rubble and found her tracks; he knew they were hers because of their size and how often he had tried to sneak up on her in his youth. His mothers tracks were not the only ones their were also the other unidentifiable tracks pursuing hers, she had obviously tried to flee after Hulfnor’s death or at his command. The tracks lead to a secluded cave. In this cave he found his mother, she was barely hanging onto life, her last breath was given to tell her son how proud she was of him and that she loved him. Kaldez’s mother had been beaten to the cusp of death while the assailants had had their “fun”. After that day Kaldez vowed to search for the murderers who had ruined his happy life.

   Before Kaldez’s career as an assassin began he tried seeking help to steady his nightmares and relieve himself of all the pent up rage from the murder. He found a woman who told him that he should try to keep a journal and vent his feelings into it and that it had helped her amongst many others. Kaldez tried and failed at this only remembering to leave two entries and they were of his first job.

Journal of Kaldez’Yadra-
Entry1: I have finally secured a job from a wealthy merchant who gave his name as Galf, an obvious cover up but I truly do not care. I am to assassinate a young merchant who is attempting to cut into Galf’s business.

Entry2: I awaited the young nameless merchant in an alleyway through which he usually traversed to his favorite pub, though I did not have his name his description was given, his face looked young and still boyish, he would be approximately a head shorter then myself with shoulder length blonde hair and grey eyes. I spotted him after about 30 minutes of waiting, once he reached me I quickly unraveled my scarf and used it to stifle him so he could not scream, I then dragged him deeper into the alley where I strangled him so as to avoid the spilling of blood, after he was dead I took his purse of money and dagger which was ornate with a dragon on the side, when I returned I gave the dagger to Galf as proof of a mission succeeded and he paid me 2 Hak and 1 odd, in the purse I found 30 san.
-End of Journal of Kaldez’Yadra

           Kaldez's life afterwards was ruff, he needed to find some sort of occupation he could do while traveling. So he came to the conclusion that do to his skills and the many hours of learning from his parents, he decided to take up assassination. Kaldez has caused the deaths of few (his reputation speaks of more) merchants/businessmen, because of the trouble they were causing for others. He also had made some small change doing odds and ends for those who could not do these things themselves, though often unrewarded he would rather have not excepted the things he was given by those he had helped, for helping them was part of his being after the slaughter of his family in their nigh defenseless state. One such event was helping an old man whose house had collapsed the day before, under the mans careful instruction Kaldez helped the man rebuild allowing the man to continue his life, before Kaldez could leave however the man insisted that he reward Kaldez in someway, but lacking anything of material worth the man offered to teach Kaldez the way of using seastars, so over the next few months Kaldez continued to help the old man while learning to use the deadly weapons, when it came time for Kaldez to continue on the old man gave him 10 seastars and told him to keep them in remembrance of his life and how valuable memories could be. And so his life was pretty well off, considering, he was hated by others for his family’s actions, and the reputation he had brought with him to some areas.
             After years of searching for the unknown murderers, Kaldez found that a group of men that had traveled through much of Cyhalloi, and were well known as unlawful men had left for Sarvonia, so seeing as this was the only lead he had been able to find over the years Kaldez decided to leave for the Main land of Sarvonia.

Kaldez’s first birthday after arriving in Sarvonia was his 27th which he celebrated alone in Saeroth, though celebrate would probably not be the proper term, as Kaldez chose to use his birthday as a day to mourn the death’s of his family and those who he had killed, praying for there souls and begging forgiveness, it is upon this day that he always remakes his tattoos by recarving the indentation in his skin and going over them in crimson ink, this causes him pain but it helps him remember who he is and what he has set out to do.

Kaldez continued to follow the trail of the group of men which he refers to as “Them” in conversation and alone. The group slowly traveled inland keeping to human and dwarven lands as much as possible, while following them Kaldez helped those who had been ravaged by these evil men, and he buried those who had not survived, these people who died, were added to the list of people he would pray for on his next birthday.

Upon his 28th birthday Kaldez found himself outside of the city of Nyermersys, he stayed outside of the city while he mourned, prayed, and etched his skin once again. After which he entered the outskirts of the city and asked about “Them”, he found they were in the city. However a few months later found them once again traveling south through the continent.

Kaldez continued to follow Them, but he found that they had had a ship waiting for them on the coast near the city of Thyslan. Near where they had left Kaldez found the captain of the ship, he had not known of this meeting with the Them would happen, he only knew  that his first mate had suggested they land there so as to restock on certain supplies, the captain was dying and told Kaldez that ship was now heading to Cape Strata. Kaldez decided that he could not just leave the man to die there and so he brought the captain to Thyslan where he left him in the care of the townspeople, he then asked some of the towns people where he could find a ship to take him to Cape Strata, and they told him that he could find a ship Milkengrad, which he would find to the north.

Once Kaldez reached Milkengrad he used what was left of his money to gain passage on a boat, but his money was not enough to bring him all the way to Strata, so he and the captain came to an agreement, the captain would drop Kaldez off in Vorcopas. The journey was not ruff and the see was calm for the most part with little incident.

As soon as the ship landed in Vorcopas Kaldez continued his trek south, on the way he encountered a group of two bandits who thought a lone traveler would be an easy target. The bandits set up there ambush, however Kaldez already knew where they were, being trained in the ways of stealth he knew they were not, they had made a very feeble attempt at hiding. When the appointed time came for the ambush the bandits realized there target was gone. The first bandit fell without a single noise, Kaldez’s carefully aimed stab with his moonblade through the back of the mans windpipe cut off any possible noise. The second fell with a seastar buried in between his eyes the third seeing his comrades fall ran, but he foolishly ran out onto the road, where he took a seastar at the base of his neck severing his spinal cord. Kaldez wiped his moonblade one the disabled bandits clothing, along with retrieving and cleaning his seastars in the same way and taking the money pouches from all three bandits, the money amounted to a total of 36 sans. Kaldez then kneeled where the disabled bandit could see him and told the man this “You will never again hurt anyone, when night falls the scavengers will come to feed on you, if not sooner, I hope you die slowly and feel every bite, for surely it will not be half of the pain you have cause people through the years.”, and the Kaldez continued his trek southward.

Kaldez arrived in Strata upon his 29th birthday, after his rituals, he went into the town, and discovered the bandits to have gone into the surrounding wilderness where they’re hideout was. Kaldez still remains in Strata looking for the bandit’s hideout.

Weapons: a Falchion given to him by his mother, an ice blue crystal is inlaid in the pommel and the moonblade that belonged to his father. (10) 5 point seastar's given to him by an old man

Special Belongings: Fathers Necklace, white gold chain, with The Echiilianni crest, and His uncles necklace, white gold chain, with the Korenjaan crest

Familiar: none

Title: Collin Murray Cd
Post by: Ebony Murray on September 19, 2007, 02:36:38 AM
(sorry if this is in the wrong place. If it is please tell me where to put it)

Name:  Collin Murray
Gender:  Male
Race:  Centaur
Age:  79
Weight:  11 Pygges, 6 Hebs, 3 Muts.
Height:  2 Peds, 2 Palmspands, and 4 Grains

History:  Collin Murray was raised by a family of humans.  The Humans where of the Centoraurian tribe.  He got along with the human kids very well especially the daughter named Celsie. She would ride her horse with him all over.  Since he had to sleep out in the stable he became very close to the three horses the human family had.  He lived with these humans until he was 23 when he left to find his own kind.  On his long journey searching all of santharia he met may people of all races but he didn’t find any centaurs until he was 29.  When he did find the other centaur he was so enthusiastic he almost scared her away.  The other Centaur was 25 and her name was Celsie.  He was so happy he knew it was his destiny to find her because she had the same name as his best friend. She led her to her tribe where he Married her and had two children.  His children’s names were Ally and Benjamin because those were the other two kids names that he had grown up with.

Appearance:   Collin Murray is a Centaur so he has a human torso on a horse’s body.  His horse skin is covered in creamy white fur.  His human skin is very pale even though he is obviously outside all the time.  He has long brown hair with brown eyes and he is clean shaven.   Unlike most centaurs he wears a leather vest that Celsie the human made for him before he left.

Possessions:  Collin Murray has a cycle he took with him when he left the humans.  Also he Wears a leather bracelet with orange yarn entwined into it.

   1)He is obviously a fast runner because he has the legs of a horse
   2)He is very strong
   1)Because he is a centaur he does not fit in most doors and other entrences
   2)He is very fragile, and like a horse a broken leg could be fatal

(this is my first atempt so it will probably need a lot of work)

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Kalína Dalá'isyrás on September 19, 2007, 02:39:57 AM
In the Character Description Forum (,23.0.html) which is clearly labeled with you view the full site.

You need to be approved by the administrators and titled before you apply to a story.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Ebony Murray on September 19, 2007, 02:47:13 AM
Thank you very much this game looks very fun but im having a hard time getting started

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Garret Arroway on October 05, 2007, 06:33:37 AM

  Hope this the right place ....

  Yahoo Messenger: jordy_3491

Name: Garret Arroway

Gender: Male

Age: 18

Race: Human

Tribe: Helcrani

Occupation: Mercenary

Title: The Wolfling

   Height: 2 peds

   Weight: 1 pygge and about 6 hebs

   Eye Color: Dark Grey

   Hair Color: Light Brown Hair With Blond Streaks

   Physical Appearance: Garret is taller than his father, at two peds, and weights about one pygge and a half a dozen or so hebs, with less than a mut of fat on him. He is well muscled, broad shoulders and chest. His arms are corded with untapped power, his waist slim, and his legs sturdy but slender. The over all look of this handsome youth is slightly intimidating. His skin is tanned to a deep bronze and slightly weathered from almost constant exposure to the elements for the last two years.

         His light brown hair is streaked with sun bleached blond, and a strip of old leather tied around his head kept his jaw length hair at bay. Soft, youthful eyes of dark grey peered from beneath thick brows. Eyes almost black filled with uncountable emotions. Pain and sorrow stands clearly forth among them. His face has a boyish cast to it, soft features still prominent against the inevitable battle hardened look. A slight brownish stubble coats his strong jaw. His back bearing long white scars where a leather whip had tore the soft skin multiple times. At the nape of his neck a small wolf tattoo inked in black, the reason for his troubles.

   Clothing: A pair of travel stained, soft leather leggings covering his lower body, and a worn, old leather swordbelt was buckled around his waist. Worn leather boots near the point of hopelessness graced his large feet. A large grey shirt stretched across his broad chest covered by a large grey cloak tattered and nearly useless. A small sack dangling from one shoulder held a soft leather shirt, chainmail hauberk, food rations, and a small pouch of coins. Lastly a strip of old leather tied around Garret's head held back his unruly hair.

Personality: Garret is always grinning from ear to ear, ready for almost anything. He is easy going and always the first to laugh or joke with friends. At first he his slightly timid around strangers but in no time at all he is at easy around almost everyone. He's very boastful and can rival the best at tall tales. His stubbornness has gotten him into more than one tavern brawl and will get him in many more, his pride causing him equal trouble. He also has a quick temper and big mouth, and a problem knowing when to shut up. He is very bold and always looking for the next grand adventure.

            Garret cares very little for his own life, willing to give it up for one great quest. Even thought he is easy going he is always watchful, not wanting to be caught off guard. While he cares little for his own life, he is very protective of his friends and would allow no harm to come to them if he could help it. But beneath his jolly facade he is slightly troubled. Only those that know him best can see the troubled youth beneath the boastful and happy-go-lucky young man. And there are very few that get to know him that well.

             Blade - He has gained some skill with a sword, having trained since he was seven among the higher class of his tribe and living as a mercenary for the last two years. It is his strong point and the blade has been his passion for years. He still has along way to go in his training, but when he travels with a mercenary group he learns more from older warriors.
             Archery - He has a little skill with a bow. While traveling with his first mercenary group he was trained with the bow a bit. Garret isn't the best bowman but he can get off a few good shots every now and then. After leaving that group he abandoned the bow for a while. He hopes to eventually have enough coin to purchase one of his own.
             Trading - He is very good at bargaining and haggling. His father was a merchant so he learned much when the old man tried to force his trade on the adventurous youth. He is also he is very outspoken and that helps.
             Loyalty - Garret has an air of important around him and his need to keep other safe draws loyal friends to him, and he is loyal to others. This inspires the people around him.
             Shadowfoot - His Mirthral Wolf and guardian Shadowfoot is almost always near by. This great silver beast is his protector and greatest weapon. Well others see the wolf that way. Garret sees Shadowfoot as his closest friend. The wolf is well trained somehow seems to know when to stay out of things and when to get involved.

                Impatience - Garret is very impatient. Youth gives way to rash decisions and can get him in trouble. In battle he will jump in at the first opening without seeing that it could set him up for disaster. And when speaking with others he will quickly lose patience with the person if the conversation doesn't seem to be getting anywhere.
                Anger - Garret has a quick-temper that is easily set off and varies in seriousness. Sometimes it is moderately bad or sometimes worse. This causes problems when dealing with merchants, citizen, enemies, and people in general.
               Opinionated - His big mouth more than once will get him into plenty of trouble. He has problems with knowing when to shut up or if offending someone. And his pride and stubbornness never allows him to be wrong.
               Past - The past is probably his greatest weakness. Memories are always attacking him, images of his parents, his fathers rage, the men he has killed, and more. They take control of him at times. When it happens only immense pain or the release of memories can pull him from it. During these times he is completely vulnerable.
             Scars - The angry scars across his back had never seemed to affect him until one day. During a small battle he had over extended or something. His back burned like it was on fire and it felt like the leather belt was ripping open the skin once more. His was helpless for a period of time. Shadowfoot being the only reason he was still alive. Garret didn't know the extent of the injury or his own limits since it had only happened once. He hopes that it will never plague him again but something tells him it will. And each time he goes into battle he must watch his every move and hope he doesn't trigger it again.

History: His father was a merchant in Milkengrad, and close friends with many of the noble men of the city. He always had the best goods for the nobles and quickly became one of the only merchants they trade with for jewels, gems, and other valuable items. Garret's father was one of the richest men in the city, only a step below the nobles. Garret's mother was the youngest daughter of a large and lowly noble family. His mother's father talked her into agreeing to marry the young merchant that was valuable to the nobles of the tribe. Reluctantly she went into this relationship, feigning willingness so her father would not be disappointed. She thought she would never love the man but after a few years together she had changed her mind. For almost ten years they lived together happily. Then Garret was born.
                  At first Garrets father was happy to have a son. His father and mother spoiled him with lavish gifts as a child. But it wasn't long before they noticed something was odd about him. Until he turned seven years old he was happy in the large two story house. Content with exploring his surroundings, but he never paid any attention to the gifts his parents bestowed upon him. At seven years of age, he had long grown bored of the house, having explored every bit of the place. During the days he would look out one of the windows, watching the daily events out in the street below, or would sneak onto the roof and watch the young nobles fight with swords in the castle courtyard on the other side of a tall stone wall.
                    During the days he was allowed outside, he would find wooden sticks and fight invisible creatures, mimicking the moves he saw the other young boys doing. One day his father had caught him at this, a weird look upon his sires face. Garret waited in fear but no punishment was forthcoming. One day thought, his father had returned home from a meeting with the nobles at the castle, his hands clasped behind his back, hiding something from the youth.
                    Garret bounced around eager to see what it was and then his father presented him with a gleaming sword. One the young nobles had been using. Shrunk to fit the hand and straight of a seven year old boy, the edges dulled and point pounded down so they could do little damage. But to Garret it was like holding the world in his hand, the shiny sword felt as if it had belonged there all along. The next day his father took him to the castle, and he was suited up onto a suit of padding and hustled off to the courtyard. And at seven years old he began to study the art of combat.
                      His father had spoken with his noble friends and a deal had been made. The nobles got a steep discount on the merchants good, and the man's son was taught to wield a blade along side the other sons of nobility. Even with the discount the merchants business prospered and so did his spirit as he laid eyes on the happy face of his little boy each night.
                      Garret studied with the Noble's sons for ten years. During those years they studied out in the field on how to use the weapon and they studied books on warfare and chivalry. Garret was at the head of his group, top of all his classes and he was the best with the sword in the group. He had learned so much in the years he had trained. But knew it would take a lifetime with the blade in hand to completely master it. And he was determined to master it.
                      When they had reached sixteen years of age, the other boys returned to their parents, learning about the nobility, and some of the younger sons training to become knights or soldiers. Garret had nothing left to do but return home. The training was done and he knew all the trainers were able to teach him but his thirst wasn't quenched. He wanted more. He wanted to go out into the world and learn more, to fight with the weapon he had trained with, and to master the blade.
                      This was where father and son parted. His father wanted Garret to run the business after him, but Garret didn't want to spend the rest of his days as a merchant. He wanted to be free, to roam the world with the wind in his face, his past to his back. One day he went into the city and found a tattooist. He thought for a long while what he would do and it suddenly came to him. The wolf, the great embodiment of freedom, and the ability to run through the wild and go wherever he wanted to whenever. And on that day, Garret had a small wolf tattooed at the nape of his neck.
                      When he returned him that day he grinned to himself, knowing that soon he would leave. And that thought drove him forward, freedom beckoning him. The tattoo on his back itched fiercely and knowing he couldn't scratch it a mild anger consumed him. Without thought he ripped off his shirt, exposing the tattoo. Free of the itchy cotton and with the fresh air on it, the itching died, replaced by a cool sense of relief. His father chose at that moment to walk to the room. With wide eyes he stared at the abomination, inked into his sons back. He too understood what the wolf meant to his son. And anger flared through him at the deliberate disobedience of the son he had given everything to.
                      He pulled of the thin leather belt from his waist and slashed at the boy with it before Garret knew of his father presence. White hot pain flared through him as the leather ripped open his back. Time and time again his father brought the belt down, slicing open his skin with each blow. Garret stood there frozen with panic and pain. Then without thought as the fourth blow fell he ran from the house, his ever-present sword at his side, his shirt in hand and his back sliced open with blood pouring down it.
         Garret didn't know exactly where to go, and with blood running down his back, and four burning sliced down his back he couldn't get far. He slowly put his shirt back on, grimacing as he did so, but knowing that the wound would have people asking questions. Right then any questions were the last thing he needed. He traveled as far as he could before he collapsed at the edge of a little farm. The farmer had luckily been working out in the field and had seen the tall youth collapse. Even luckier for Garret the man and his family were very giving and kindhearted.

                      Garret woke three days later in a small room. His torso covered in stiff bandages. He looked around and discovered his still bloody shirt lying over the back of a chair near by. He tried to stand, and soon the room was spinning. He placed a sturdy hand against a near by wall and waited for it to pass. He slowly stumbled over to his shirt and pulled the stiff fabric over his head. He slowly headed toward the door to the room and found himself in a small cottage. The farmers wife standing near the fire, hurried to the injured youth's side once she saw him.

        Garret stayed one more day to gather what little strength he could but refused to impose of them any longer than he had too. Before he left they supplied him with a small sack, food, and extra bandages. He thanked them for all they had done and was extremely grateful to the farmer and his wife that had saved his life. Since then though, life had seemed to grow dull. It didn't matter to him whether he lived or died anymore since everything is dying.             

                     Since the incident Garret hasn't returned home. He traveled on his own for a while, as the wounds healed, living off the scarce nourishment that the plants around him provided. He traveled south, and soon caught up with a mercenary band. He joined up with them, traveling south, fighting for pay where they found work. For about a year he worked with that group. Traipsing across the land and heading down toward the Yanthian Gulf. After almost a year he left them, seeking out another group. During the time with the second group he learned how to ride a horse. Not well, but well enough so he wouldn't fall off. Yet Garret still preferred the ground.

                Finding some work here and there along the way, working with a group of rugged mercenaries for a while before going his own way. Now he travels around, heading wherever it pleases him at that moment, maybe looking for another group or a new adventure. The youth working as a caravan guard when he could to earn some coins. He still bore the cost of his freedom.
Weapons: His sword, a wondrous piece of gleaming steel given to him and the rest of the group when they ended their training.

Belongings: Garret always carries with him his long sword and a sack. His leather shirt, chainmail hauberk, food rations, and a small coin pouch in the sack. The pouch of coins was heavier than usual now. The last job he had was for a wealthy merchant who was overjoyed to survive a bandit raid with his life. That and the clothes on his back is all that Garret carries with him.

Familiar: Mithral Wolf. While traveling in the north with a mercenary company, he stumbled upon a wolf den. The mother lay dead in the red snow some five feet away, multiple stab wounds covering her. If he would have searched more around the den he would have found the rest of the small pack had met the same unfortunate fate. He also found four dead pups in a shallow stone cave that passed as a den, their necks broke. As he turned to leave he heard a small yip and turned back toward the den. Searching the area he found another pup, hidden beneath dead grasses and his dead littermates. The living pup was the largest of the group. It grew to about 2 fores and 2 palmspans high, very muscular, with solid sliver fur.       
                   While living with his parents he spent much time roaming the city, befriending the mangy curs that walked the back alleyways. After obtaining many bites and scratched he finally managed to gain their respect. Garret had always easily befriended most animals he met. When he found the pup, its eyes were still closed and he was unsure how it had surviving but that was good enough for him. Slowly he nursed the pup through childhood and having been the first creature it saw they bonded quickly. The pup was rebellious at first, and Garret got many a small scar from trying to train him, but in time they grew close. They had been together for a little over a year now. The bond between boy and wolf grew with each passing day.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Yurie Yileen on October 16, 2007, 03:40:08 PM
Okay, I've given Yurie some winter clothes for this story.  To be specific, a long, sheepskin coat, a sheepskin hat with flaps that fold down, sheepskin gloves and boots made from, well, sheepskin!

I hope that this is fine with everybody...I didn't want him to freeze to death up in those cold northern parts!



Name  -  Yurie Yileen

Gender  -  Male

Age  -  30

Race  -  Human

Tribe  -  Eyelian

Job  -

Yurie is currently exploring the world as a part of his “dreaming”.  He has little need of money as he is capable of hunting and / or foraging wild food.  He is skilled at finding and making basic shelter and is thus quite independent.  When he does need to make some money he has a range of talents that he can draw from.  His usual methods are playing music or telling peoples’ fortunes.

Title  -  Walker of Dreams

Overview   -

Yurie is following a unique path with the help of his spirit guides and the Great Spirits Themselves.  He was born into an Eyelian family in the shadow of the Rimmerins Ring mountains.  He grew up in a very traditional Eyelian society, yet made close friendships with elves and hobbits alike.  He later felt a calling to travel and joined the Black Butterfly Rovers to further this aim.  After traveling with them for some time, he again felt a calling from the Spirits.  This led to his separation from the Rovers, and his present situation as you encounter him today.

Appearance -

Let me introduce you to a good friend of mine, Yurie Yileen.  What’s that?  He’s pretty short, huh?  1.5 peds to be precise.  But don’t you feel it?  The self confidence that just oozes out of him?  And it’s not surprising, either.  Sure, he’s pretty slim, but take a look at those muscles!  Make no mistake, Yurie can pack a punch if he wants to, and he knows it!  Not that he's an aggressive man.  You can see that in his face.  Go on, have a look.

Yeah, you're right, he has been out in the sun quite a lot; that's why he’s as brown as a nut!  Got the peace of nature in him, too.  I can see that, can’t you?  Such a kind, serene face.  And have you ever seen such bright eyes before?  Sparkling like the stars on a clear, Elverground night.  When I look into those deep, dark brown eyes, I see the mountains and the grasslands; the forests and the sky.  How about you, what can you see?  Some people say that his eyes look intelligent; maybe too intelligent, kind of mischievous, even!

There you go!  What a smile.  It lights up the room, don't you think?  Makes your troubles seem lighter somehow.  He often smiles like that.  Take a closer look at his eyes and you can see the smile lines already forming.

And can you see that?  Just there, on the back of his neck; looks like a small, black butterfly has just landed on him.  No?  Oh, well, don’t worry, sometimes he grows his hair a bit longer just to cover it up…some people treat him unkindly because of that little thing.  But he never covers up those other two tattoos, the ones on his upper arms.  Eagle talons ready to catch their prey.  Pretty fierce looking, right?  I like the way those claws follow the contours of his muscles; whoever tattooed him sure had some skill.

And take a look at his hands.  Do you like the rings?  Which one do you prefer, that soft silver one on his left hand, or the glowing gold one on his right?  What's that?  They look pretty similar?  Take a closer look.  Can you read the writing engraved into the silver?  And aren’t there more butterflies engraved into the gold?

You like his pants?  They look pretty comfortable.  I wouldn't wear them quite as loose as that, but I like the colour.  Black hides the dirt better when you're out on the road!  Pretty practical, too.  All those pockets are there for a reason.  He likes to keep a lot of his personal possessions close by.  Bit of a nightmare if you've got a bad memory, though...where did that pipe get to?

You prefer the cinnabrown shirt?  Me too.  Cinnabrown is such a rich colour...shame that Yurie's is so faded now!  Not that it matters.  Clothes aren't all that important to an Eyelian.  To be honest, I reckon Yurie'd be a lot happier running around natural, like.  Did you notice that he’s bare foot?  I’ve seen him wear sandals sometimes, deer skin I think.  But he prefers to keep in close contact with the earth.

Do you see that spear he's carrying?  Hard to miss, right?  I wouldn't want to get onto the wrong end of it!  The head is double edged and sharp as an old woman’s tongue!  That shaft is made from good old oak.  I reckon it'll last forever; not many woods more sturdy than that.

And what do you think of that bow?  Nice, right.  Nothing fancy, but it does what it needs to!  Birch wood and sheep horn.  There’s even a bit of sheep bone in there.  Sure, some of those compound bows are more powerful, but this one’s strength comes from its simplicity.  No kidding.  Can you imagine trying to restring one of those compound monsters out in the wilds?

Do you know much about arrows?  Well, Yurie does.  He makes them himself, usually.  Pretty simple for the most part.  He only uses stone heads on them, but they do what they need to!  He also has some metal headed ones that his father gave to him.  There are even some armour piercers in his quiver that really look the business!  It just goes to prove a point; armour really is over rated!  Yurie doesn’t wear any.  He was taught that a truly proficient fighter evades the blows rather than being lazy and relying on a chunk of dead cow to absorb them.  And anyway, it’s a pretty rare thing for Yurie to get into deadly combat.  Like myself, he believes that it’s best to end disputes verbally.

Oh, did you say “hello” to Barega yet?  He’ll be upset if you don’t; crows can be quite sensitive, you know.  He’s usually happy enough perching on Yurie’s left shoulder like that, but he likes to spread his wings from time to time.  Personally I think that Yurie’s hair looks a bit like Barega’s feathers, both are blacker than midnight.  What’s that, Yurie?  Your dad hates your hair?  Too, short, right?  Still, I like it; seems the curls are tighter when it’s short like that.  Easier to look after, as well.  Just consider yourself lucky that you don’t have much body hair, nothing worse than having to shave all of the damn time!

Well, that’s Yurie for you.  Now that you’ve met him, I’m sure you’ll be seeing each other around.  But don’t go yet!  It’s kind of traditional for us to mark an important moment like this one, you know, meeting a new friend for the first time.  Maybe you’d like to join us for a smoke?  I'm sure that Yurie has got some fine hobbit weed on him somewhere...

Personality -

Yurie has an optimistic outlook on life and takes great pleasure in living.  He has a deep serenity about him, which comes from his belief in the guidance and protection of the Great Spirits.  He is confident and self assured without being arrogant or overbearing.

He tends to be quite laid back.  Yurie doesn’t believe in rushing life, which is probably a personality trait that he picked up whilst spending lazy afternoons watching the clouds drift over the Elverground with his hobbit friends.  It was probably these same friends who introduced him to hobbit weed.  He can often be seen smoking this weed; sometimes with a look of deep contemplation on his face and sometimes with a look of devilry!  Yurie has a tendency to be a little forgetful and blames this on his smoking habit.

Yurie has a great respect for the natural balance of life.  He is happiest when surrounded by the natural world, and can become uncomfortable and restless when confined in a city for too long.

Yurie is a peaceful person who would prefer to maintain harmony with those around him through conversation and reason.  However, it has become clear to him over the years that sometimes these methods don’t work, and a harsher method has to be employed.  As such, Yurie has no qualms with using threats and / or physical force to end disputes.  If he ever gets angry it’s when he sees people exploiting, bullying or otherwise abusing others.  In these situations Yurie tends to respond quickly; perhaps acting first and thinking later.

On a lighter note, Yurie loves to have fun and is quite an outgoing person.  He will talk to pretty much anybody and extend his hospitality to them.  Of course, he isn’t always like this, and he too has times when he feels the need to withdraw into himself and reflect on life.  It’s not uncommon for Yurie to suddenly split away from a lively group and find a place of solitude somewhere.  He sometimes also enters into trances and meditation.

Strengths -

Yurie can communicate with a variety of different animals and has an especially strong bond with crows.  This is due to his Eyelian upbringing and training as a Beast Master.  The crow is his spirit guide.  More specificaly, Yurie can communicate with cats, rats, crows and gryphs.

Yurie is skilled at flying his gryph, Pindari.  He can also use his bow whilst flying.

Yurie is an expert bowman; he has been using bows since the age of six.  He can also make good quality bows and arrows with stone heads.

Yurie can use a spear for hunting and self defence.

Yurie is experienced at hunting and foraging for food.

He is a musician who can play the flute and frame drum.

A good fortune teller who can enter into trance.  He has a highly developed intuition and believes that he has a close connection with the spirit world.

Weaknesses -

Yurie can be quite forgetful.

He will sometimes act before thinking and this has placed him in dangerous situations in the past.

Yurie has a weakness for women…especially beautiful women.

Some people have noted that Yurie is irresponsible.  This is because of his laid back approach to life.

Yurie doesn’t care much for money, and as such, he is often broke.  Yurie doesn’t see this as a weakness, but others in society might.

Due to his appearnace some people consider Yurie to be somewhat of a “lowlife” and will treat him as such.  This is made worse if they realize that he is a Black Butterfly.

His love of smoking the weed has left his lungs in poor shape.  This means that he gets out of breath during intense physical activity.

Oh, and he’s also quite forgetful.

Magic -

No real magical ability, but his understanding of animals and his ability to communicate with them can appear to be magical to others.  His close connection with the world of the spirits and his skill in fortune telling have led a few people to believe that he has some kind of magical ability.

History -

When I came to this world, I was without a name or identity.  It was the responsibility of my father to enter the “Lodge of Purification” to discover how I was to be known in this life.  As I am the youngest child of seven, my father had already had plenty of experience in this duty!

He told me that it was about midnight when the Great Eagle Spirit came to tell him the name of his latest child.  The Eagle whispered into my father’s ear, “your son is to be called Yurie Yileen.”  My father bowed his head in understanding, before repeating the name back to the Eagle.  In our language, Yurie means “to hear” and Yileen means “a dream”.  After thanking the Spirit, and making a small sacrifice, my father returned home to let the rest of my family know the name of their newest member.

After my “naming” I was cared for by my mother and elder siblings.  Under their care I learnt how to walk and talk.  I don’t hold memories of this time, but my family told me that I was always trying to escape from the confines of our house.  My mother especially remembers how quiet and peaceful I used to be during the terrific thunderstorms that come crashing around the Rimmerins Ring mountains.  She took it as a sign that I was to be close to the Great Father.

My earliest childhood memories come in patches, with no distinct time order.  I remember those times with fondness, for I was secure and surrounded by love.  I would spend most of my time playing with my sister, Akala, who is 2 years older than me.  We would dig into the Earth around my family's kaouje plants, and play games of our own making.  I can still remember the strong smell of pine that permeated our house, and whenever I smell pine wood I’m overcome by feelings of safety and contentment.

One very significant event in my childhood came when I was about five years old.  It was a fine day in midsummer when I went with my mother to visit one of my elder sisters.  She's a member of the Order of the Wings.  I remember that my mother left me with some of the Order members whilst she went to talk with my sister alone.  There were several girls there and a few big birds as well.  The birds fascinated me!  They were much bigger than any other birds that I had seen, and they seemed dignified, somehow.

Being a small and very curious child, I made my way over to them, leaving the girls talking and playing.  There were two larger birds, and one smaller one.  The larger two ignored me, but the smaller one lowered its head close to me.  It seemed to be just as curious as I was!  Well, I had a piece of dried meat in my pocket that my mother had given me earlier.  I took it out of my pocket and held it, (nervously), infront of the bird.  Without any hesitation, it took the meat from me and gobbled it down!

It was about thiis time that my mother returned.  After briefly scolding the girls for allowing me to wander off, she came and told me that I should go inside and say "hello" to my sister.  As I followed my mother, the bird followed me.  It seemed as though I had made a new friend!

After a while it became clear that this small gryph, who was called Pindari, didn't want to leave me.  I didn't understand much at the time...I was just playing with my new friend!  As I grew older and learnt more about gryphs, I understood what had really happened.

Pindari had been one of the "surplus" gryphs that the Order gets sometimes when there are more birds than new members.  He had been ready to chose a partner, and because he hadn't chosen any of the other gryphs, he was going to be released into the wild to find one.  Well, that's when I arrived and met him.  Seems that for some reason he took a liking to me.  Instead of flying off into the wilderness that day, he stayed with me.

The Order members of course understood what had happened, and they arranged a ceremony to mark the occassion.  That was one of the most important days in my life, because from that point on, Pindari has almost always been at my side.

I also began my ‘formal’ schooling around this time.  To be honest, it was just a small group of children from surrounding homesteads who came together to learn under the tutoring of a few dedicated teachers.  I enjoyed my time at school, mostly because of the companionship and opportunities to play!  I found the academic subjects boring and would always look forwards to the time when we would be dismissed for the day and I could practice my riding skills with Pindari!

My father also felt that it was important for me to learn how to use a bow from a young age.  As such, he gave me my first bow and arrow set on my sixth birthday.  I was so excited!  I had often seen my elder brothers and sisters practicing with their bows and had been fascinated by them.  My father became my first bow teacher.  He taught me not only how to use the bow, but how to make and string them as well.  My first attempts were far from perfect, but over the years I learnt how to make very strong and effective pieces.  I also learnt how to craft arrows.  The arrows that I make are fairly simple, using only stone heads, but they have served me well in hunting.

So, for a large proportion of my childhood days, I was engaged in flying and shooting lessons.  When not studying directly under my teachers or siblings, I would be out practicing by myself or with friends from the surrounding areas.  Having Pindari gave me so much freedom to explore the Elverground.  As I grew older I would often sleep out under the stars, eating food that I had hunted or foraged for myself.  Wild rabbit was always a favourite of mine.

Of course, during my time exploring the Elverground, I came upon the wonderful hobbits of Elvenveran.  These folk impressed me with their hospitality and laid back approach to life.  I made many good friends in Elvenveran and would often spend time there.  It was from my hobbit friends that I acquired the habit of smoking and the skill of pipe making.  I also learnt from them how to play the flute, how to sing and how to have a good time!

I would have to say that I had a productive and free childhood.  Maybe I didn’t learn much academically; but at least I grasped the basics.

This was my lifestyle until my thirteenth year.

In my thirteenth year, the local Elders, and my family, decided that I should take my vision quest to find my spirit guide and to enter my manhood.  I was both excited and nervous when I heard this news.  I was excited because I knew that every Eyelian must undertake this trial, and nervous because I was worried that maybe I wouldn’t be able to receive a guide!

Before I left my home for the lodge, my mother gave me a small cotton pouch to hang around my neck.  She said that there was a powerful medicine inside that would give me courage.

I was very nervous as I approached the lodge, and even though my hand was clenched tightly around the small pouch, I didn’t feel very courageous!  Once I was there, however, and the ritual chants had begun, I felt a great sense of peace steal over me, gradually washing away my fear and tension…maybe my mother’s medicine was working after all.  I could feel my muscles relaxing and my mind becoming freer as the ritual continued.  When it came time for me to leave the lodge and enter the wilderness, I was already experiencing visions.

From the point that I left the lodge, time lost all meaning for me.  I was in a familiar yet strange world, surrounded by spirits and beings that I didn’t recognize.  I could see colours that I had never seen before, and my awareness was heightened.

A constant feeling that I had was one of restlessness, as though I had been dug up from my roots and tossed into an ever changing wind.  During my journey I met with many different spirits; spirits of animals, spirits of places and spirits from different times.  I learnt all that I could from them; and felt as though my learning would never end.

Gradually it dawned on me that I still hadn’t encountered my spirit guide.  Or had I?  Maybe it had been one of the many spirits that I had already encountered?  Could it be that I just hadn’t recognized it?  Could it be that I was doomed to forever wander in this strange world?  Maybe my spirit guide had been the wily fox?  The ingenious tortoise?  Or maybe even the devious spider?  And yet I hadn’t felt a real connection with any of these beings.

I remember that I stopped walking and fell to my knees on a rocky outcrop.  The stars were clear above me, the land silent and dark before me.  I pressed my palms together and prayed.  I prayed all of the prayers that I knew and many that I didn’t.  I prayed in my own language and languages long forgotten.  I called to the Great Father and the Great Mother; I beseeched my ancestors, I pleaded with the spirits…but still none would come.

It was at this point, when my tongue stuck in my parched mouth and no more prayers would come, that I closed my eyes and fell backwards into myself.  I fell in somersaults backwards, into the darkness of my own mind, closer to the center of my being.

When I stopped falling, I opened my eyes; but still, all was black.  The stars were no longer visible, and the wind no longer brushed my skin.  I felt a cold fear begin to rise from the depths of my heart.  Had I gone blind?  Had I even died?  My fingers reached for my pouch; but instead of finding a cotton bag, I found my own heart.  It was warm and beating steadily.  As I listened to the beating, I began to feel calm again; and then, in the silence between the beats, I heard it’s voice.

The language was unknown to me; and yet it felt closer to me than my own breath.  I instantly understood, and listened with rapt attention.  The voice said, “I have been with you since before you were dreamed.  We played together and learnt together in the world before this one.”  The voice paused, and I had the feeling that I already knew what it was about to tell me.

It continued, “When you were born to this world, you began to see and hear and experience in different ways.  You were captivated by the new; and you forgot the old.”  Yes, I already knew this.  It had been buried within me all of this time.  “But now you have searched for what you had forgotten.  And you have found me again.”

As the voice continued, I began to speak at the same time as it; two voices speaking in unison, “And our pathway is before us again.  And we shall continue our journey together again.  And we shall play as before.  And we shall learn as before.”  At this point I began to speak slightly before the other voice, which now became an echo, “And I know who you are; and you know who I am; open the door, and we shall be as one.”

I already knew which door I needed to open.  And when it opened, I saw a great shape gracefully gliding towards me from out of the darkness.  An impossible shape; blacker than the blackness that surrounded me; perfectly visible in its invisibility.

The doorway to my mind was open.  The pathway to my thoughts was clear. The shape came closer.  The door opened wider.  The colossal bird sailed through.  And as the door slammed shut, my consciousness flared for a moment of infinity; before extinguishing itself into nothingness.

When I resurfaced into consciousness, I was lying on my back.  I could hear hushed voices talking, and smell a faint trace of smoke in the air.  Slowly, I opened my eyes.  The light was very low, but still the faint glow hurt my eyes.  My body was exhausted.  I struggled to lift my head from the straw pillow on which it had been placed, but it felt like somebody had replaced it with a giant rock!  Then I heard a very familiar voice say, “Look, he’s back.  Give him something to drink.”  My father came into view, and he held a cup of some kind of a bitter tasting tea to my lips and helped me drink.

When I had finished the first cup, the familiar voice, which I now recognized as that of our local Elder, Mityan, said, “Congratulations, you have found your guide.”  My father returned with some more tea, and helped me to sit upright, slumped against one of the wooden walls.  I could see Mityan now.  He was sitting cross legged opposite me, and smoking a pipe.  Apart from us three, I could see nobody else present in the small room.

“How long was I away?”  I asked.  “It is of no importance,”  he replied.  “But, how can you know that I was successful in my quest?”  Mityan took a long drag on the pipe, held the smoke for a while, exhaled, and then smiled.  “The man that sits before us today is not the boy that sat before us in the Lodge.  When I look into your eyes, I can see that you have changed.”  My father smiled also, as though they were sharing a joke.  He continued, “you now have your spirit guide.  It is your choice whether you want to share with others what form your guide takes.  You can tell everybody you meet; or you can never tell another soul.”

He paused, and his face started to betray the mirth that he was feeling inside.  He continued, “But I believe that most will be able to work it out for themselves.”  As he said this, my father’s smile widened, and I had a burning to desire to know what that weren’t telling me.  Just then, before I could ask them what I wanted to know, a shadow detached itself from the wall and flew towards me.  It landed lightly on my lap, and as I looked into its pitch black eyes, I felt as though I was looking into my own soul.

“He came to us early this morning.”  Mityan said.  “He had a lock of your hair in his beak.  Understanding that he wanted us to follow him, we set out.  He led us straight to where we found you, lying unconscious on a rocky outcrop.”

I had hardly heard his words, the storm crow that sat before me was taking up almost all of my attention.  I said “thank you”, and it seemed as though he understood me.  He nodded his head and perched on my left shoulder.  At that moment the name 'Barega' came into my head, and I said it aloud.  The crow cawed in response and we took it as a sign that he was to be known by this name.  "Welcome, Barega."  Mityan and my father said in unison.

From that day on, Barega has been a constant companion of mine.  He is a physical manifestation of my spirit guide, which in this world takes the form of a crow.

Also from that day, my training began in earnest.  Since my family already had a secure future, with two of my elder sisters and one of my elder brothers working on our kao-kao farm; and because I had shown a love of the bow, my future career was determined to be the same as my father’s, and so I began my training as a Beast Master.

For ten years I studied and trained in the ways of a Beast Master.  I learnt many things, including how to communicate with animals and how to survive in the wilderness.  I began by learning how to communicate with Barega.  Because of my close connection with him, it didn't take me long to learn.  I would also practice communicating with other crows.  After my vision quest, it seemed as though more crows settled around our house!

My father thought that I should learn how to communicate with smaller animals first, so he set about teaching me how to communicate with common cats and rats.  There were always rats around our farm, and they seemed to attract stray cats.

I became quite proficient at communicating with the cats, rats and crows.  I always found it easiest to communicate with Barega, though.

And of course, as my relationship with Pindari grew, I also learnt lots about how to communicate with gryphs.

My proficiency with the bow, particularly shooting from the back of Pindari, continued to improve.  My father also saw to it that I was trained in how to use a spear.

During this period I would often train with other young men of my age.  We started out with staffs.  Some of the other boys would use straw or leather to protect themselves from the bruises and welts that the staffs would cause, but I never did.  My father always told me that if you used armour then you would get lazy and end up taking shots that you could have avoided; “once smitten, twice shy!”

After training with a staff for a while, my father allowed me to use a practice spear.  This was basically a staff that had a sharpened end.  Eventually, when he thought that I was ready, my father presented me with a real spear.  It was made of oak wood and had a single, straight, and wickedly sharp head.

It was when I was about 22 years of age that I began having the visions.  I would detach from this world and enter into the world of spirits.  At first it was believed that I was maybe being chosen to become a leader; but when I explained the content of my visions to the Elders, it became clear that this was not the case.  It seemed to them that this was a continuation of my dream and my destiny; the spirits were trying to communicate something to me.

The message seemed unclear.  I had strange visions, of far away places and people I didn’t know; yet they seemed as good friends.  I once again began to feel the sense of restlessness that I had felt so strongly in my vision quest all those years before.  For one year it continued like this.  The visions and feeling of being blown by the wind increased gradually.  Still, I seemed no closer to understanding.   Then, in the summer of my 23rd year, it all became clear.

That summer was the summer when the Black Butterfly Rovers crossed my path.  A good friend of mine told me that there was a group of travelers and entertainers crossing the Elverground; and I knew deep inside that I had to meet them.

When I first encountered the group, I felt a recognition.  It seemed to me that I was coming closer to the resolution of my strange visions.  As the day wore on, and as I met and talked and played with different people from the group, I felt the sense of restlessness leaving me, as though I was discovering a new home.  That night I stayed with the group, and as I slept I had a series of dreams and visions.  At the height of them, my spirit guide, the crow, told me that I should join the Butterflies and begin the next part of my journey.  For me, he explained, the way of wisdom lay on the road.  When I awoke in the morning, I knew what had to be done.

I asked the Rovers where they were heading, and if I would be allowed to join them on their travels.  They said that they would gladly accept me, and they told me in which direction they were traveling.

Of course, I couldn’t leave my home, my friends and my family just like that!  So I went home that same day to discuss my decision with my family.  When I told them of my idea, I was surprised by their response.  I had expected some resistance to the idea, but it seemed as though they had been expecting this to happen.

Later that evening, my mother asked me if I had definitely decided to leave, to which I replied that I had.  She didn’t try to stop me or argue with me.  Instead, she simply gave me a small wooden box.  Inside there was a silver ring which glowed softly and serenely in the candle light.  When I looked closer I could see that it had been engraved with my family and clan names.

“So that you won’t forget us,”  she said softly.  I was surprised, and she must have seen my expression, for she said, “I have long known that your path would lead you away from us.  It was written into your destiny before you were even born.”  She smiled at me, and said, “So I had this ring made for you.  I must admit, I dreaded the day when I would have to give it to you, and right now, I don’t think you can imagine the sorrow that I feel.”  Her eyes were becoming moist as she continued, “But this life is full of farewells and greetings.  I know that in our parting lies the seed of our reunion.  I give you this ring with my blessings."

"You must listen to your dream, Yurie.  You must travel and see and learn.  You must experience all that the world has to offer, and you must grow.  But never forget that you will always have a home and a family here.”  She reached out and took my hand; and then she slipped the ring onto my finger; a perfect fit; and then she cried.

The next day I traveled all over the Elverground, telling my friends that I would be leaving a week later.  A few were surprised, but most seemed to know that such a leaving was inevitable for me.  And so a huge party was to be held on the night before my departure.  All were invited, for a night of fun, festivities, remembrances and blessings.

The night went well, and will certainly be remembered fondly for many years to come.

The morning after, I left as quickly as I could.  I had already said my goodbyes and didn’t want to prolong the moment.  With my belongings gathered together, Barega on my shoulder, myself on Pindari, I flew away from my home of 23 years.  I left whilst the others were sleeping, and I did not look back.  Pindari carried me east towards the rising sun; towards the Black Butterfly camp; towards my future dream.

I found their camp easily; and I found acceptance among them easier!  I received a tattoo of a butterfly on the back of my neck; marking my new beginning.

At first I was involved in a variety of different activities, trying to find to which I was most suited.  It soon became apparent that I had no interest in the shadier side of the group.  As such, I spent a lot of my time playing with the other musicians.

Another group of people that interested me was the fortune tellers.  I found that I had a natural talent for this; a well developed intuition, I guess.  I was taught how to read peoples’ fortunes using a variety of techniques, but I found that cards and coins yielded the best results.  As such, I focused my efforts on mastering these techniques, learning their mysteries by heart.

In turn I also shared the skills that I had.  I helped the fortune tellers enter into trance and taught the fighters among the group how to use a spear.  I shared my knowledge of bow making and hunting.  And of course, I shared my knowledge of pipe making!  I found lots of other smokers in that roving group!

And so my voyage continued.  I grew in experience and wisdom as well as age.  We traveled to many different places, and I made lots of new friends.  Sometimes I would think of my home and family back on the Elverground, but usually I was too busy to be sad.  In my seven years of travel with the Rovers, I went back to my home to see my friends and family four times.  It was always a great joy to see them again, though a little upsetting to see how my parents had visibly aged since I had left.

After seven years of traveling with the Rovers, in my thirtieth year, I once again felt a pulling in my heart.  The same feeling that I had felt seven years before.  The feeling that it was time to move on.  This time, when the visions came, I was better able to understand them.  It seemed as though my path was becoming even less distinct.  This time, I would need to head out into the world by myself.  Well, not exactly by myself, for Pindari, Barega, the Great Spirits and my ancestors would always be with me!  But I felt as though it was time for me to split away from the hospitality of the Black Butterflies.

Once again I had to tell those I loved that I would be leaving them; and once again they seemed to have expected it.  Erland, my best friend amongst the group, had a gold ring made for me; similar to the silver one that my mother had given me.  This one was engraved with a line of interlinked butterflies, and I would wear it on my right hand.

Once again I arranged a leaving party; and once again it was one to remember!  When I finally parted from the group, I knew that I would also always have a home amongst them…if I could ever find them again!

And so began a new chapter in my life.

Weapons -

A composite bow made from birch wood and mountain sheep horn / bone.  A quiver of arrows with slightly different heads.  Most of the heads are made from stone, but Yurie also keeps some metal “armour piercers” and "incendiary" arrows.

A simple spear made from oak.  It is two peds high and has a single, straight, double edged metal head that is one fore long.

Belongings -

Yurie has several pipes.  He tends to keep his favourite one about his person, along with a pouch or two of hobbitweed.  He likes to keep a few different kinds of the weed with him to suit different moods.  For idle times, Yurie keeps a few blocks of wood and a small knife for whittling and making pipes.

Yurie likes to keep a wooden flute close by for musical moments.
He also has a small frame drum and a two headed hand drum.  The frame drum is used for providing percussion, and the two headed drum is used to help him enter trance and as an aid to meditation.

He also keeps a pack of divining cards wrapped in black silk.  He made the cards himself, under the guidance of an experienced fortune teller.  He has added details to them, under the guidance of his spirit guide.

Familiars -

One male gryph called Pindari.  Pindari is relatively small for a gryph.  His body is covered in dark brown feathers.  The feathers on his head are of a lighter brown.

One stormcrow called Barega.  Barega is large and completely black.  His feathers are shiny but always scruffy.

Best way to contact me is by private msg.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Jituska Kouba on October 24, 2007, 11:56:25 PM
I think the best way to contact me is PM.

Name: Jituska Kouba
Gender: Female
Age: 12
Race: Human
Tribe: Caltharian
Occupation: /
Title: Hungry Nymphet

Height: 1 ped, 1 fore, 5 palmspans
Weight: 1 pygge 2 ods
Eye colour: Brown
Hair colour: Blonde

Physical Appearance: With her 1 ped and not quite two fores, Jituska is a small girl for her age. She's quite skinny, with an underfed and unhealthy look to her. Her large brown eyes seem too big for her face, which is screened by dirty blonde hair bound together in two braids, both usually in some state of looseness. As soon as they don't resemble braids anymore, Jituska's brother Tojzek braids them again for her.
Her skin is pale, with freckles around her nose that disappear only in the deep of winter. The nose itself is small, in contrast with her large expressive mouth. The overall result is more cute than it is pretty. Her arms and legs are pretty skinny, as well as her body. When naked, her ribs can be seen, and she there's not yet a sign of breasts, leaving her chest flat and boy-like.
Her fingers are long and nimble, though the nails are bitten down almost to the flesh. Her hands look just a little too big for her, though that has more to do with the rest of her body than with the limbs themselves.

Clothes: A green dress hangs down from Jituska's shoulders. It was once sognastheen, and of a good quality, but the colour has all but gone from it. Constant wear has left it faded and shapeless like a sack. She also has a spare red dress which looks a little better, which she tries to keep for special occasions. Over this, she has a grey cloak which is also suffering from constantly being worn. It was given to her by her brother, though she's never inquired as to where he got it. Her feet are shod in sandals, which only really give protection to the soles of her feet. Any kind of weather can reach her feet, making it especially uncomfortable to walk in rain or in cold weather.

Personality: For the most part, Jituska is a very quiet-spoken little girl. Though not exactly shy, she won't easily voice her opinion about anything in public, though she will usually tell it to Tojzek quietly. Despite her usual hunger, she has an easy smile that makes one forget the dirt on her face and see the girl underneath it. Without really thinking about it, she tries to win people over, thinking it a way to help her brother get them a meal. Her large, innocent brown eyes are a great asset in getting people's pity, and hopefully a bit of their money to buy some food.

She is very dependant on her brother, letting him take the decisions or running to him when she is faced with one. Rarely will she decide something on her own. Whenever she feels a negative emotion, she will go to sit very close to him so that he can protect her, either from her fears or from a real threat.

She always tries to be optimistic about everything that's happening, though she doesn't usually give a thought to the future. Especially when she notices Tojzek being a little depressed she will put up a bright face to try and cheer him up. For his sake, she tries not to complain too much when she's hungry (because she's still growing, this is almost continually) or tired (only slightly less so).

When it comes to relationships with other people, Jituska is rather physical. She is very fond of hugging her brother in particular, but really any person they happen to meet. She doesn't usually stop to think that some people might not like hugging. When there is an older man present, she feels like the 6-year-old who played secret games with her father again, like the time when it was still quite innocent and fun. She more or less gravitates to them, but Tojzek is always there to stop history from repeating itself. It is quite likely that when a man approaches her again in the same way as her father, certainly like her father in those last few years, that all the hurt and fear and shame will come back, but so long as it doesn't go farther, she is instinctively drawn to them. She knows what is happening, but she can't seem to stop herself, and she needs her brother to put a stop to it.

When she is alone – which happens sometimes when Tojzek leaves her alone for a while – she is easily scared; by unexpected noises, small creeping animals, the dark. When she is with her brother, however, though she is still afraid of these things she feels safer because she knows he will protect her. Lying close to Tojzek at night is not only a matter of getting warmth for her, she needs him to feel safe.


Jituska is an optimistic girl. She always tries to see the good in things that happen, even if it's bad on first sight. Every time Tojzek is in one of his depressed moods, she tries to cheer him. It might take a while, but it always works.
Her open and innocent gaze can be a useful instrument in getting people's pity and from there a meal or some coins. She has no problem with using her dirty and poor looks to beg, if it helps her and Tojzek to eat. It also helps when Tojzek's hostility against someone he felt had come too close to her lands them into trouble. Guards usually have a soft spot for her doe-eyed gaze, letting her brother go out of pity for her.
With her long, nimble digits, she is a good pickpocket, though she will only use this skill when there's a real need for it. It's not that she's morally against stealing – so long as they need it, and the person stolen from doesn't, why should she care? It's mostly that Tojzek won't allow her to steal, being afraid she'd take too big a risk, and so she only steals when she can add to their few coins without him noticing.
Another strength for which she can thank her long fingers is her ability to sew. Though the two of them never have enough money to buy enough cloth for new clothes, she does have a small needle and thread in their backpack, with which she can mend tears in Tojzek's shirts and trousers, and in her own dresses. This has saved their clothes many a time from having to be thrown away.
Though she usually doesn't have the right materials, she is a decent cook, having done some of the cooking back home. Unfortunately, they don't have a pot when they're travelling, so she can't make them anything.


Often hungry and underfed, Jituska is a small and weak girl. For anything that requires strength, she usually has to turn to her brother or anyone else that happens to be close by.
She has a tendency to get ill, which has the same cause but combined with being often tired when they are travelling from one place to another. Most often it's just a cold, but sometimes it'll force her to lie down for a day or two.
Although her innocent look has gotten the both of them out of trouble, it has gotten them into it as well, when she let a man closer than Tojzek would like, causing him to fight. She doesn't stop letting them close to her, though. There's always the conflict between her 12-year-old self who remembers her father, and the 6-year-old she used to be, who played secret games with her father. Certainly when she meets an older man for the first, the smaller girl wins the fight.
Though she has travelled for a year now, together with her brother, she is still quite naieve in the ways of the world. Without Tojzek, she would quickly fall in with the wrong people, who could take advantage of her in many different ways, getting her to do what they want for their own gain without getting much in return.

One cold day in late winter, in the Caltharian city of Carmalad, a small girl called Jituska was born to two less than loving parents. In the household of four in which she saw the light of day, only her brother Tojzek loved her and played with her. Her mother could dye a cloth in such a colour white that it almost sparkled, but more often than not she could not be bothered to make the dye. Her father... he was really good at sitting around the house and making others feel inferior to him.

Though she didn't know it in her first years of living, her mother didn't like either of her children, although she felt more dislike against her eldest son than against her young daughter. She saw both as nuisances that should keep out of the way, and Jituska learned soon enough to avoid her. Her father at first was just a big entity with a loud voice, but not otherwise noteworthy. Any time something major happened in her life – when she found a colourful stone, or she'd fallen and her knee bled, or she just felt happy or sad for some reason, she would run to Tojzek, with whom she shared all her joys and pains.

This changed when she was about six years old. Tojzek had started to go out of the house more and more often, which left her with her lazy father and bad-tempered mother. Mother remained an object to be avoided rather than run to, but one day as she was quietly playing in the small room that she shared with her brother, her father came in to play with her. He tried to make up games the way Tojzek would, and although his were not as much fun, she was glad that she now had someone to play with while her brother was away. The games involved a lot of physical contact. He never played them when Tojzek was there, but when they were alone, he would come over without fail. At first it was innocent enough, tickling each other and laughing, but gradually things became more and more intimate, and she let it happen, not knowing that this was not normal. She thought that every girl's father asked them to take off their dress, or to touch this thing that was somehow part of their body but not her own. She wanted to tell Tojzek about what he did, but for some reason she never did, perhaps keeping in mind all the times her father had said that it was their little secret, that she shouldn't tell anybody. For anything else that happened, she still turned to her brother, whenever he was there and not out in the city.

After two years, when she was 8 years old, things with her father changed again. Before, he'd been careful of her, trying to make what they did nice for her, but now he came more and more often, and was less and less nice, so that he often hurt her. It made her ashamed of herself, partly because he still talked about 'their own fun little secret' while she didn't find any of it fun anymore, partly because she was becoming very afraid of him, and partly because she started hating him. None of it was right to her feelings, but she didn't know how to stop him from doing it. For one thing, she still thought that it was normal for fathers to do this, and the one time she had tried to get him to stop, he'd taken her arms and proven that he was the powerful one, and still he did the thing that hurt her so much, only now it was worse because he held her pinned down and refused to see the tears that streamed down her cheeks. After that, she never had the guts to say no to him again, but she never trusted him the way she had when they'd first started playing their games. Since that day, she hated him with all her heart, and her mother too for allowing him to do this.

Two different emotions warred within her from that day on. One was a longing to tell Tojzek everything that happened, and let him make things right again the way he had when she'd fallen down. The other was a shame so deep that she thought she could never tell anyone what had happened and what was still happening. In the end however, the hate and longing won it from her shame and she told Tojzek everything, with tears in her eyes, fearing that he'd be mad at her. But he wasn't; he was mad at the old man. She had never seen him quite so mad. He told her that he'd wanted to run away from home for a while, but that she had kept him there because she 'needed looking after', as he said it. For the smallest moment the thought crossed her mind that he hadn't done very well looking after her, but it was immediately abandoned. Of course she knew what Mother had been like, and why he'd spent so much time away. And Father had been cunning enough never to let him notice anything. So she let him dry her tears and they decided to run away.

They started from home early one morning in the spring when she was 11 years old. She depended on Tojzek to survive, though she helped in any way that she could. She taught herself a little pickpocketing, though she knew he would never approve of her doing so. Whenever she could, she begged for a little food, which she of course shared with him, however little it was. She tried to keep him from landing in too much trouble, if she possibly could, or to get him out of trouble if he was in a tight spot.

When they were around other people, especially around older men, she suddenly felt like a young girl again who played secret games with her father, and she more or less gravitated towards them. It was always a strange feeling for her, because she did remember her hatred of her father, and the hurt and shame, but she couldn't stop herself. Luckily Tojzek is always there to start trouble for her, challenging those men before they have the chance to do the same thing with her that Father did.

In this way they have travelled for a little over a year now, the older brother protecting the younger girl; the girl looking after the brother in any way she can.

In Tojzek's backpack, Jituska keeps her spare dress and the needle and thread with which she mends their clothes.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Jituska Kouba on October 24, 2007, 11:57:31 PM
And here's Tojzek's CD (I post it for him because I happen to be online anyway ;))

Tojzek Kouba





Usually some sort of heavy manual work, but whatever people will pay him for really.

Young Sentinel

Tojzek is an independent young man: relying solely on his sister (Jituska) for moral support; just as she relies on him to provide what money they can earn.  He has a certain ruthlessness and determination born from desperation and this often means he puts their own wellfare high above anything else.


A little under 1 ped, 2 fores and 2 palmspans

1 Pygge, 1 Heb and 5 ods

Hair Colour
Dirty blonde dreadlocks, though even without the grime the shade would be darker than his sister's.

Eye Colour
A pale brown.

Physical Appearance
Tojzek’s stocky Caltharian build has been limited by his poor diet as a child.  Maybe he will fill out as he gets older, but for now he is a little shorter than usual for his age and possesses a figure best described as wiry.  The flesh on his arms seems to almost twist as it wraps itself around his skeleton-like frame, and his chest is rippled with indents from both ribs and abs - giving him a slightly ugly, unnatural appearance.  His face has a somewhat hollowed look to it, often becoming more pronounced in winter or when food is scarce for other reasons.  At these times the muscle becomes less too, especially when he has been without a job and not had to use them.

His face itself is unremarkable; a rather square jaw, a stubby nose dotted with a couple of lonely freckles and nondescript brownish eyes, all surrounded by his grimy dreadlocks.   These tangled locks fall to the nape of his neck and are rather tatty at the ends because when they get too long Tojzek will simply hack an inch or so off each one in turn.  Unfortunately he rarely has a mirror handy when the time comes so the overall effect is rather dishevelled.

Tojzek’s movements have the confidence of someone practiced at looking confident even when he isn’t; his face is rather inexpressive and you can often catch him scanning the area around him not-so-subtly.  Though he does not appear openly hostile, his body language does not welcome strangers either; he can seem rather tense and protective of Jituska when he first meets someone.  However as (or if) the conversation flows smoothly he tends to loosen up; his voice becomes less strained and he can sit without fidgeting.

The cloth of Tojzek's trousers and shirt are faded with age and torn in places.  His shirt is a non-descript pale grey and his once-bright turquoise trousers are now closer to the colour of the sea on a cloudy morning.  The trousers are rather baggy and held up by a length of string which sits inside the waistband.  The cloth has then been folded over the top and stitched with the string inside the fold, preventing them slipping from their already-low position on his hips.  His shirt is slightly too large and thus doesn’t quite sit on his shoulders correctly, gaping a bit at the front where one of the buttons is missing.  The sleeves are supposed to be short, but instead cover about two thirds of his upper arms, and the greying material falls a bit further than it should, almost hiding his bottom from view.

Tojzek’s other shirt is one which he tries to keep clean, or at least cleaner, and doesn’t often wear it for travelling.  This way he has one for when he wants to look smarter.  It is a leafy-green colour - surprisingly rich compared to the rest of his wardrobe - and still has all its buttons securely fastened.

He also possesses a cheap, undyed woollen cloak, fastened with a wooden toggle, which he can wrap around himself as a blanket at night as well as using it for extra warmth in the daytime.  Like his other attire, the cloak is rather old and the surface of the fabric is covered in little pulls and snags where the fibres have caught on various things.  However it is warm and rather large which means he can get both him and his petite sister under it at night if they cuddle close.

Tojzek’s feet are covered by a pair of very old, battered dark leather shoes, which one of his brief employers gave to him instead of throwing them out.  One of the soles is coming away at the front and Tojzek often wraps a piece of string or rope around it to prevent mud and slush from getting scooped up and seeping onto his toes.

After having to scavenge off the streets for most of his life to supplement the meagre amount of food his parents gave him, Tojzek’s thoughts often revolve around his next meal.  Morals come in second place; he has no qualms about stealing or fighting if it provides him and his sister with some money, and would accept almost any form of employment if it led to large rewards.  However Tojzek does not go seeking violence; he sees it as an often necessary part of his world but doesn't want to fight any more than he has to.  He hardly ever fights in anger, more to protect what he sees as his i.e. his sister and their few possessions. 

Tojzek's outlook on life is rather depressing as his luck rarely extends beyond a good meal and warm bed.  So lives for the moment; only thinking about those small hopes and trusting his on-the-moment decisions to get him out of trouble. He believes that in a tight situation any decision is often better than none, which is often true, but can also make him rather reckless.  Jituska’s optimism can often cheer him up, but deep down he doesn’t believe there is anything better for him and if he was left alone he would go back to his brooding ways. 

Whilst not being easily described as “calm” Tojzek rarely looses control of his emotions.  This is partly due to the fact that not many things anger him; the only opinion he really cares for is his sister’s so insults from others can be ignored.  The young man also simply prefers to keep his feelings out of sight.

Due to his need to protect Jituska, Tojzek is unhappy and wary around people he doesn’t know.  He is neither friendly nor openly hostile but his lack of enthusiasm in answering the usual “Tell us a little about yourself” questions can often put people off chatting to him, as can his inability to buy a round of drinks.

Strengths and Weaknesses


~ Dirty Fighter ~ Tojzek has learnt to fight on the streets with the other street kids, so whilst he may not have any type of finesse, he is quick-thinking, practiced and not afraid of combat.  He is quite willing to use anything as a weapon if need be; a tree branch or a kitchen knife if they are close to hand, his fists, knees and teeth if nothing else presents itself.  This rough style would be no match for someone properly trained with a formal weapon, but it might be enough to persuade them to look for an easier target instead.

~ Hair Braider ~ After plaiting his sisters hair every so often for the last few years, Tojzek has become quite good at it.  He finds the contact both relaxing and intimate, and would be unlikely to do this for anyone else.

~Wiry Strength ~ Although there is not a lot of it, most of the flesh that clings to Tojzek’s bones is muscle.  This strength is an advantage in the laborious jobs he sometimes manages to get, as well as in a fight.

~Sister~ Without his sister, Jituska, Tojzek would have become a much darker person a long time ago.  He trusts her immensely and would do pretty much anything for her as he feels protecting her is the only thing that gives his life meaning.  She helps him when they get into trouble, as well as in everyday, practical tasks.


~ Dishevelled Image ~ Unlike a lot of the Caltharian people, Tojzek does not take good care of his personal image and thus is often dirty and smelly.  This does not encourage people to come near him or employ him.

~Poverty~ Lack of money and needing to support both him and his sister can mean that Tojzek often doesn’t get enough to eat or anywhere warm to stay, and the hunger saps his usual strength as well as making him listless and moody.

~Pessimist~ His life of bare survival has made it hard for Tojzek to have an optimistic view of the future; he reacts to events as they happen rather than trying to plan ahead. This in turn means he is often forced to act quickly and take his chances, sometimes leaving him in extremely tight spots.

~Overprotective~ After what their father did to Jituska, Tojzek dislikes any man going near her.  He is aware of the problem and tries to contain himself, but if he thought the man was becoming too close he would quickly intervene whatever the consequences.  Part of his mind is always on where she is and what she is doing, and such a responsibility is hard for so young a man.  The shield he provides between her and the rest of the world often puts off strangers from entering into conversation with him too.

Tojzek’s family live in a house on the outskirts of the port Calamad the main town in Caltharia.  Even though his mother was known for her skill in creating spectacularly white cloth, neither of his parents worked on a regular basis so they often lacked proper clothing or enough to eat.  His parents always got first pick of the food that was on offer, even if that meant he got very little or was forced to eat leftovers.  They failed to see him as their child and someone they should provide for; he did not contribute and was therefore barely better than the rats that stole from them.  The fact that his father did nothing but laze around all day did not seem to rock this solid belief.

When he was four, Jituska was born, so presumably his father must be doing something around the house, if not anything profitable in the usual sense of the word.  To his parents the tiny baby was just another mouth to feed and another thing to look after, but Tojzek was rather fascinated by the tiny child.  He found it almost miraculous that she could be contented so easily; a smile or a strip of bright material waved in front of her would make her gurgle and smile in happiness.  In fact she seemed the only happy thing in the poverty of the house.

As soon as he could be taught to do them, Tojzek’s mother set him tasks around the house, tidying, cleaning, mending and running errands to clients whenever she could be bothered to produce anything.  However, he could never please her and perhaps she never wanted him to, because that would deprive her of the outlet for her frustrations over her husband’s lack of work. His favourite task by far was watching his new sister; she at least seemed pleased to see him, pleased that he was alive.  Trying to make up games that she could understand and enjoy was a challenge for him too and prevented him from dwelling on his otherwise dismal life.

Unfortunately as he got older Tojzek’s mother began laying even more tasks on his young shoulders, thinking up chores when she had none left and punishing him when he couldn’t complete them in time.  Often denied dinner or given more endless jobs, the boy began to spend longer and longer away from the house on the streets of the town.  He scavenged or begged from strangers to supplement his diet, or held the rich men’s horses in return for a few coins.  Soon he learnt to fight too, as there was always another boy ready to steal his earnings from him as soon as he had them.  Although he was himself thin and fairly weak, he at least had a dry place to sleep and a little other food, and therefore some advantages over the street-orphans he regularly fought.  However, they were already skilled and he mainly learnt their way of fighting with their fists or anything else that came to hand from getting beaten by them.

His first real job came along when he was around thirteen; helping to lift luggage and crates onto the boats that frequented the harbour.  It was sheer luck which got him this postition.  He just happened to be standing near the boat, idly watching the team and delaying going home for a few minutes longer.  It was cold and the ground was slippy with ice.  Even when they were taking care their feet skidded every so often on the floor and it was vaguely amusing to wonder which one was going to fall first.  However is was not a person, but one of the boxes which fell as a man stumbled only a ped or so from where the boy was standing.  The hastily-made crate crunched on impact, and all the men jumped back, obviously not willing to get close to what was in there. A few moments later and the crate seemed to explode with barking as the creature inside recovered from the impact, throwing itself against its cage.  The battered box gave in, and a small, white and really quite angry little dog bounded out, yapping its little head off.  In that moment of hesitation, whilst the men transporting stuff to the boat waited for each other to react, the little canine would of got away, but Tojzek was close and he jumped for it.  He grabbed the leather strap around its neck and wrapped his other arm around its wriggling backside, preventing it from escaping or biting him as it was now trying to do.  As Tojzek heard whilst he was waiting for them to bring another crate, this animal was the prize possession of a very rich merchant just about to set sail.  The harbour master ( being extremely glad of the boy’s quick reactions which had probably saved him a lot of business) thanked him by always choosing him to take messages or hold horses instead of any other boys.  Later, when they needed an extra hand, he gave him the job as a porter.

After that Tojzek had a series of temporary jobs around the harbour.  The boy would do pretty much anything; cleaning, sweeping, lifting or running errands, as long as he got a few sans for his efforts.  It was known that the harbour master trusted him, so he was not chased off like the other street children who hung around.  His mother often tried to take the money off him, claiming it was “rent” but the wily kid still managed to keep bits of it, normally spending it on food before he came home, or simply avoiding going back for as long as possible.  In fact there was only really one thing that kept him from running away; his sister.  She was no longer the happy little girl who had once been such a comfort to him.  Although they were still close, he knew there was something that she wasn't telling him.  Not knowing what the problem was, he only worried about her and tried to smuggle a few edible treats back for her once in a while.

However eventually Jituska did tell him what was bothering her; what his father had been doing to her.  As her story unfolded Tojzek felt his anger grow, uncontrollable, sickening, boiling and screaming at his insides.  The father he had always regarded as stupid and useless, suddenly became a figure of hatred to rival his mother.  Never in all his fights had he felt this need for action, the desire to rip and maim, the call to release it upon the lazy evil man.  How could he do this to her, spoil something so pure and happy?  The anger danced in his eyes and his body trembled under his passion’s uncontrollable demands.

He turned back to Jituska, took one look at her scared face and it faded.  She thought he was angry at her? The hatred melted, but didn’t leave.  It remained, though softened, growling from somewhere deep inside him. He took his sister in his arms and reassured her, spilling all his own thoughts and frustrations, how he had wanted to leave for so long and had only stayed because she needed looking after.  He felt a pang of guilt at these words.  What a good job he had done of that.  Why hadn’t he prevented this?  How come he hadn’t known?  He trembled further as he held her, convincing her to run away with him as he dried her tears.  The young man vowed to himself never to let anything happen to her again, to protect her from now onwards and make up for his failure before.

Tojzek did not revenge himself upon his parents; doing nothing but steal a few essential objects before he and Jituska left.  Anything more would have upset his sister, and too much had happened to her already.  They could be left to themselves, and let them rot for all he cared.  However his anger and guilt went with him, held inside him. and he often feels these emotions rise again if the girl is threatened.  There have also been a few times when the responsibility of looking after them both has grown too much, and, in rare cases, caused him to abandon her for short periods of time.  However he always returns and deep down he knows he always will.   They have now spent a little over a year travelling together, going from place to place in search of work.

One old, dirty kitchen knife he stole from his mother when they left.  Unfortunately he possesses no scabbard and so must keep it wrapped in his bag until he needs it, leaving him somewhat vulnerable to surprise attacks.

A bag, which carries both his and Jituska's possessions
A knife described above
An old waterskin
A spare shirt

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Shansi on October 28, 2007, 04:14:35 PM
Name: Helvíl Ypherén

Gender: Male

Age: 64 years old but with the appearance of a 40 years old human (Approximate Lifespan: 390 years)

Birthday: 23rd of Burning Heavens, 1603 A.S.

Race: Half Elven; Human Father, Elf mother

Tribe: Korweynite is the tribe of his father and Kaýrrhem is the tribe of his elven mother

Title: The Cold Pilgrim

Occupation: He makes money by trading what he finds during his travels like fruits, animal skins, medicinal plants and other things that has value in the market.

       Helvíl who is known as Ohen in Nybelmar, is a son of a man named Karkal and a Kayr elf named Lyth. In the lands of Dolion Meriath, he grew up away from his father but he grew up as a child filled with joy and happiness. When he went to the village of his father, he suffered toil, sorrow, and great pain. He killed his father and lost his home. He was hunted by men in Nybelmar and a great prize was set upon his head. With nowhere to go, he sailed across the sea and found the land of Sarvonia, where his curiosity was again awakened for there were many things that is in Sarvonia that did not exist in Nybelmar. He enjoys knowledge and seldom does he let go of an opportunity to go to an adventure.
      Helvíl's heart grew apart from men and elves and he made a wall between him and them. To them he appears cold and heartless but truly his not. He still judge them fairly not letting his anger cloud his judgement. He also helpes them when they need it the most.   

Height:  Two peds

Weight: 1 Pygge, 7 Hebs.

Build: Slender

Hair color: Deep black

Eye Color: Dark Brown

Physical Appearance:
      He is a little bit shorter than normal Kayr elves, maybe because of his human blood. In his face, one can see kindness and gentleness. If someone actually sees him, they think that he came from a royal family because of his elegant look.
       His eyes are dark brown that is almost black if not inspected closely. His kind believes that his eyes sparkled like the eyes of the Light Elves. He keeps his dark hair shorter than normal elves. His skin was smooth and white.
       After leaving the protection of his kind, he lost the sparkles in his eyes and they became restless. His skin darkened to almost brown. And his face that once shine the faint light of his kind became cold and uncaring in appearance. His hair grew long and became uncut.

        He is usually seen wearing a brown robe fixed by a brown belt. Underneath he wears a tunic which is also brown but lighter in shade. His pants are also light brown. He also wears the same type of clothing in dark blue or in dark green.

       He also wears a ring of gold with a diamond set on it. It was a jewel left behind by his father.

       Before leaving the comfort of his kind, he was usually happy even though he grew up without a father. He has the wisdom of his elven kin and the curiosity of the race of men.
       His face neither shows sorrow, despair, nor toil. Before he left Dolion Meriath, before he desired to go outside the walls of Dolion Meriath, he sees the world as perfect, that the world is the way it should be. He always cheers people up in times of war and despair and gave them wise counsel. In his presence one was given a temporary relief from their suffering.
      He is also very eager to learn magic that concentrates on the element of wind because he believes that the wind is the nearest element to Ava's dream.
      He is very curious about the ways of men and the outside world since his mother never let him to go outside Dolion Meriath.
      He feared the emotions he suffered in the Korwynite village and from then on, he tried his best to control his emotions for he believes that these emotions are his greatest weakness that he will only feel, sorrow, despair, and pain when he let these inside them him. Whenever he sees happiness, he seldom feels the same. He envies them, so those who laugh and feel love, he envies the most or if he is the cause of the joy or hope that the people are feeling, he pretends that he is irritated and uncomfortable and tries everything to avoid the situation or stop it but deep inside he is happy. He tries to avoid such things because he tries to forget about Ohen, his past in Nybelmar.     

      He is also very prideful and will seldom accept his own mistakes. He will make up lies to cover the mistakes that he made or blame it on someone else. He is slow to anger but also slow to forgive but when his is angry, his wrath is nearly absolute.

      After reaching Sarvonia, his curiosity of things was awakened again. He seldom rejects adventures for he knew that he will be wiser and stronger in both body and mind after the adventure. He made a wall too between him and the elves and men for he cannot forgive them for the pain and sorrow that they brought to him was great but never did a small seed of hatred grew in his heart.

       During a situation where positive outcomes are rare, he can usually keep his emotion under control to keep himself from panicking.         
       His is strong-willed but he knows when to give up unless his pride gets in the way.

      He is also very good when it comes to speaking with other people. His words bring comfort to his allies and fear to his enemies.

       He is an average healer and knows a little bit about medicinal plants which might come in handy from time to time. He can also create some weak poisons because of this.
      He can use level 3 wind magic
      He is a very good liar. He can quickly create reasons to get out of troubles.

       His pride is his greatest weakness. Example is that he will not retreat from a duel that he has accepted even though his chances of winning are very low.
       When he is angry, he frequently loses control of his spells. When he casts a spell in this state, the spell backfire.           

      After being rejected by his father, he's view of the world became somewhat negative and because of this, he usually emphasizes the negative outcomes of situations which usually discourage his company and annoy them as well. 

      Also he frequently fails to understand the feelings of other people. When this happens, his words of comfort sounds like insults to the one he is helping.

     He is frequently misunderstood by many people. Most people think that he is heartless and uncaring because of his cold appearance. So when he tries to comfort anyone, it seems very strange.

       His mother chose to send him to a family friend who is a master of wind magic because she did not want to send Helvíl to the Academy of Ximax. She is trying to protect him from the things he might suffer outside the walls of Dolion Meriath.
       Even though his training was not formal, he advanced quickly in his study as a wind magi but not as quick as the students of a school like Ximax. However his study was stopped when he was overwhelmed with his desires to travel. He still wants to learn many spells but he desires more to improve his proficiency when casting spells he already know. At least he reached the 3rd level of a magi.

      His study of being a wind mage proved to be beneficial to both himself and to his allies. He can use his winds of exile to keep himself at a safe distance. Even though his current level as a wind mage knows only one offensive spell, "The Clap of Thunder" he still can attack using other spells that are not considered offensive. Like the conjure wind. He frequently uses this spell to blow dusts to the eyes of his enemies to blind them for a while giving him some time to escape. But still, he practices the Clap of Thunder a lot so that he could cast the spell with a little bit of ease and so that he could cast the spell quickly, especially during battle.

      He can also use his spells to cool off during the hot days of summer. He can use the conjure wind spell to bring some cool air to relieve himself from the heat of summer. Being a wind mage has been great for him because he can both protect and attack (but mostly protect) his allies or himself.

       He was born on the year 1603 A.S. in the lands of Dolion Meriath. His father, a great warrior of the Korweynites named him Ohén Ypherén. Ohén means light in the elvish tongue.
       His human father was named Karkal and his mother, an elf named Lyth. His father was allowed to stay there by the Lord of Dolion Meriath because of Helvíl. The Lord agreed to let Karkal stay there because he believes that a child should never grow up away from his father or his mother.
       His father was called upon by his brethren to help them defeat the orcs that has set a camp nearby and has been attacking the villagers in that area. Karkal told Lyth to wait for him. He told her that he will be back before Helvíl celebrates his day of birth. Lyth waited for him which seems to be ages and Helvíl celebrated many of his birthdays but her husband has not yet returned.
      At the age of 17 he was sent by his mother to train as a wind magi. His master taught him the art of Ximaxian magic. His master learned Ximaxian magic during his travels in Sarvonia. His master being a family friend gave him some reagents needed for casting spells and more attention was given to him than the other apprentices. This made the other apprentices jealous and this caused them to frequently tease him but Helvíl just ignored them and concentrated on his studies.
      He quickly learned the basic principles of magic and when he reached the age of 33 he reached the 1st level of a magi.
      His teacher praised him for his success. He taught him even after classes for he saw much potential in him. He walked with him in the forest and taught him many things, not only magic but also about animals, plants and their uses for healing, history, and of course about the outside world. His master also taught him the art of playing the flute because it is Helvíl's favorite musical instrument. 

       After hearing the great stories of the outside wonders, he desired to go outside the walls of Dolion Meriath. He wanted to learn more about the beasts that walk the other realms, he wanted to learn more about the beauty of the plants, the songs and poetry of distant lands, and most of all, he wanted to learn the history of men, the race of his father.
       When he reached the the age of 44 he reached the 2nd level of being a magi and at that time he asked his mother if she would allow him to go out of Dolion Meriath and seek for his father although this is not only his only purpose. His mother said no because of the dangers and many things that he might suffer along the way but she did not tell the reason to Helvíl.
       His mother stopped him from seeing his teacher, thinking that his teacher is the one arousing Helvíl's desire to travel. The more he was being stopped by his mother, the more he desired the outside world. He felt that Dolion Meriath was now his prison, not his home. His teacher still secretly teaches him and at the age of 60 he reached the 3rd level of a magi and at that time he was overwhelmed with his desires to travel and to see his father. He asked for his master's help but his master was hesitant at first but Helvíl pursuaded him to cover his escape. His master summoned a storm to cover his escape.

      Before the summoning of the storm his master gave him one of his steel swords, the one that has an emerald on its hilt and he gave too a staff that was made from an oak tree that his master recieved as a gift during his travels and some coins to spend. While everyone was in chaos and panic, he silently slips out of the sight of his mother.
      He was able to escape the place he once called home but his master was caught and was imprisoned for summoning the storm. He dared not to go back for he do not want the deed of his master to be in vain. It gave him much sorrow but he turned around and started his journey.
       His mother told him about the Korwynite village across the mountain of Sohon when he was still young and that village was his father's home. He passed over that mountain and there he practiced his spells to protect himself if he was ever attacked by a wild beast in the mountains.

       When he reached the village, he was filled with delight and joy because he wanted for so long to see his father. When he entered the village, the villagers there stared at him for the sight of an elf across the mountain was not a usual sight. He walked with his hood covering his face.
       There he was welcomed by their leader. He asked for his father, Karkal. The leader was shocked by the truth that one of his people had an elven child. Regardless of that, he was more willing to direct Helvíl to his father.
       For the first time he saw his father's face but Karkal was ill that time. Helvíl used all his skills at healing to heal his disease and to his delight, the toil he suffered healing his father was not in vain. His father regained much of his strength through his aid and after a year, in the day of his 61st birthday, Karkal's strength and health returned. Helvíl introduced himself to be his elven son with Lyth but Karkal with rage denied his tale. For the first time, Helvíl cried and felt pain. All these he knew not before. He wondered if the man he healed was his father or not.
      The truth is that after the battle with the orcs, his father went home wounded. A woman by the name of Alada tended to his needs. There Karkal forgot about Helvíl and Lyth. Alada bore him a daughter whose name Helvíl would not utter for the grief and anger is too much.
      Now, he has nowhere to go. Now he knows why his mother wont let him go. There are things that he should have never seen or felt but because he left the safety and comfort of his kind he suffered those things. He dwelt in the streets of his new home, cold, restless, and filled with much sorrow. Again, he saw his father and he ran to him with tears flowing from his eyes. He said to Karkal, "Father, why do you deny me as your son! I am the son of Karkal the man and Lyth the elf. I tell no lie for this is the truth. I will not journey over the mountain of Sohon to seek a stranger. I am your son!" Karkal replied with anger in his eyes, "I know nothing about elves specially an elf maiden named Lyth. Look! This is my child! Leave us be! Go back to your elven kin!"   
       His words are with anger but Helvîl saw in his eyes that he was lying. With rage burning in his heart, he uttered a curse that summoned three lightnings and that killed his father. The people that saw his murder chased him until he passed the mountain of Sohon. He spent weeks in the mountain of Sohon hiding and seeking the comfort of his kind.
        When he reached the Gates of Dolion Meriath his passage was denied. News about his deed reached their ears and they do not desire to interfere with human affairs nor do they wish to harbor and protect a murderer. They did not let him enter no matter how much he pleads. He again turned his back from his home. "Twice now that I have turned my back, there will be no third" he said to himself. Now he can go nowhere in Nybelmar for people are hunting him for Karkal's death. He used the "Hide Spell" to make himself invisible and entered a ship going to Sarvonia and he stayed hidden by hiding in the dark places of the ship.           
     Along the way he still remember his father, his mother, his murder, his master, Alada and her daughter, and Dolion Meriath. Despair and agony was his only companion during that journey. During the travel he fed on the food that he caught in the sea or the food that he found in the ship and drank from what water he could get for he did not wish to be seen by anyone in that ship.
       At last he saw land. The land they called Sarvonia. He traveled Sarvonia and met many creatures he knew not before and these awakened his desire to explore. He met many elves that did not know his crime and many men that feared him. He helped those who need his help but only a few would accept his help because of his cold appearance. He is now cold in appearance for his heart has nearly been turned to stone by all he suffered in Nybelmar and during his travel across the sea.
       He changed his name when he reached the Sarvonia at the age of 63. He believes that now he is an outcast of the Kayr, he does not need the name that was given to him. He changed his name to Helvíl which means wanderer in the elvish tongue but he kept his last name because he still loves his elven kin even though his sorrow is greater than his love. He also adopted the title that was given to him by the people who saw him during his travels, "The Cold Pilgrim" because of his cold appearance and because he never stayed long in one place. And with it, he created a new person that is cold and silent although deep inside he is Ohen the child that once held the fading light of the Light Elves.

"Now he is Helvíl Ypherén The Cold Pilgrim"

     His master gave him a steel sword that is 1 Ped, 1 Nailsbreadth, 3 Grains. Its hilt is gold in color like the fiery sun and its blade is made of steel that shines like the silver moon. Each of the two emeralds that are crescent-shaped, are set on the center of both sides of its hilt. Its scabbard is made of strong leather. Leaf-shaped steel covers both of the scabbard's ends for added strength.

     He owned a staff too. It has no powerful abilities except that it is sturdy and strong. It has been made from an oak tree and it stands about 2 and a half peds long.
Belongings: In his brown bag that is on his left side he keep these things:
- A flute
- A steel sword named Silarná
- A staff named Adlaw
- 2 more clothes that is same as his brown robe, pants, tunic only in dark blue and in dark green
- A journal
- A quartz crystal
- 3 wizardleaf
- A small pouch of silver dust
- 2 Eagle feathers
- A medium sized water bottle
- A feather pen
- A small bottle of ink

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Kurr on November 27, 2007, 04:47:49 AM
Contact - PM best way to get ahold of me

Name - Kurret Daraan

Gender - Male

Age - 19

Race - Human

Tribe - Erpheronian

Occupation - Wanderer

Title - Cur

Overview - Cursed by the gods, scared for life, hunted by his father and more. Kurr, as he is now known finds himself on the road, running from men hired by his father to bring back his son. He started running after a hunting accident that ruined his face, and convinced Kurr that he has been cursed by the gods. Somehow Kurr survived an encounter with a wolf that took off almost half his face and left him blind in his right eye. He knows this is some cruel joke to leave him alive and able to see the remains of his once handsome face. Kurr can't return to his old life like this so he is finding his own path, with his horse, Titan, and dog, Drake, as companions, while running from the constant danger of his father's henchmen.

Height - 1 ped, 2 fores, 1 palmspan, and 4 nailsbreadth

Weight - 1 pygge and 3 hebs

Hair Color - Red-brown

Eye Color - Deep Blue

Physical Appearance
          Kurret is a tall and slender youth, standing a little over a ped, two fores, and a palmspan and weighting about a pygge and three hebs. He is slender but still well muscled, without a bit of fat on him. His slim build allows him quick and graceful movement, unlike men with larger build that tend to be fast and strong instead. Kurret's red-brown hair is cropped just below his ears. In the mornings he usually just pushes his hair out of his eyes, and keeps a bed rumpled look to his auburn locks. Piercing, deep blue eyes look out from under stray strands of reddish-brown hair, dancing with a mischievous glint. Before the incident that scarred his face, he always had a grin playing across his lips, showing off straight, white teeth, and giving him an adorable roguish look.

          After the incident a lot of that changed. His face is now marred by four long, deep scars from a wolf's claws cut across his face from left to right. One of four scars stretch from the middle of his forehead down and across his face, going past the outside of his right eye, and ending a near the bottom of his right ear. The second scar cuts across the bridge of his nose, past the inside of his right eye, and finally ending near his jaw bone. The third scar runs from his left cheekbone down across his lips, leaving a split in each lip before ending near his chin. The final scar cuts across his jaw line to end at his chin. One deep blue eye saw its end that day. The wolf's claws sliced through flesh on both side of Kurret's right eye, leaving him blind in that eye. His left eye was spared that day but Kurret sees that as a curse rather than a blessing. Since the incident he doesn't smile as much, but he still can't help grinning often. When he does grin, it is within the depths of a dark grey cloak, since it makes the wounds look much worse. He had been growing a thin reddish-brown beard before the accident but that attempt was forsaken afterward since hair wouldn't grow in the gaps in his face, leaving the auburn growth looking pathetic. Now he tries to take the time every other day or so to shave.

          At his home in Nyermersys he has wardrobes full of the most fashionable clothing, but that is out of his reach. Now that he is on the road the settles for the most durable clothing. He has a small array of plain, v-neck shirts with sleeves just above the elbows. He has two of each of the following colors: blue, grey, white, and black. With that he has a set of leather armor: a hardened breast plate, shoulder guards, bracers, and soft leather leggings. To add to that he has a pair of soft, calf-high leather boots, a double wrap leather sword belt, a leather quiver and case for his bow across his back, and finally a long, dark grey, hooded cloak that he always wears. To finish it off, he has a small gold ring on a sliver chain that he wears around his neck.

          Kurret has always been a rebellious, mischievous youth.  When he lived with his family, he was always in style, and very popular among the young nobles.  His good looks, natural leadership, and fun loving attitude attracted people to him. He was the young rogue: charming, cool, mischievous, funny, and more. All the boys his age envied him and all the girls loved him. There was never a lack of attention, and at that age he thrived on it. Underneath his vain appearance, he is a rather thoughtful and talented youth. During the days he trained with sword and bow, even though they didn't interest him, and had has become fairly skilled with both. He also spent a lot of time reading and learning when he had nothing else to do. Dragons fascinated him from a young age and he would devour information about the mythical creatures when he could. He never showed off his knowledge of history or mythical beasts since his reputation preceded him and none of the elders wanted anything to do with him, thinking that he was a dunce.

          Now Kurret is more reserved, though not much. Since he left his parents house he has given up being fashionable and his old friends. After being scarred he believed that he no longer had a life there and so he left. Now he keeps to himself more, hiding in the shadows with his hideous visage hidden. The vain boy turned into a vain young man, he rarely pulled off the dark grey hood that hides the scars. He interacts with others but not much. In no way is he shy, and is at ease around others but he keeps his face hidden most of the time. He still loves to have fun, and finds trouble at times, the roguish lad still alive. Like all Erpheronians he is very proud and won't stand insults and once his mind is made up it won't change. He is very kind once people get to know him, and is always joking with those he knows and trusts. Kurret isn't the kind to not trust anyone or be too trusting of everyone, he it in the middle and trusts people after a short time, but if his trust is lost there is no getting it back.

          - Swordsman: Kurret has been training with a sword since he was six. He was required to train with swords. His trainer worked with him with the longsword, bastard sword, and two-handed longsword. He took to the longsword and bastard sword the best and became fairly skilled with both, and knows the basics of wielding a two-handed longsword. He has the ability to become a talented swordsman but he has never taken much intrest in fighting.
          - Archer: He has been training with a longbow since he was six. His father hired an archery trainer for his son at the same time he started learning with a sword. Kurret liked working with this weapon more than the sword and spent a little more time practicing and always found time for hunting trips. He didn't have much intrest in fighting but he loved hunting, and that pushed him to better himself with that weapon.
          - Tracker: Kurret loves hunting and used to go on many hunting trips. During those trips he was close to the scout that usually led the hunt, and Kurret learned as much as he could. After a year learning from the scout, Kurret struck out on his own and learned more. He has become a fairly good tracker, and earns some coin selling the pelts of animals he hunts down.

          - Horse: Kurret took his Rusik Horse, Titan, from the small stables behind his father's house before he left. This horse has been Kurret's friend for five years. Titan carries him where he needs to go, and the horse warns Kurret when he feels uneasy about something, even though Kurret doesn't listen part of the time.

          - Hound: Drake, his Jhomcholan Diver refused to be left behind when Kurret left home. The hound has been trained as a hunting hound and helps Kurret earn his living. He is also trained to obey. The hound never has a problem causing trouble in public places and often has to keep his owner out of trouble. Drake has been a great help since the loss of sight in Kurret's left eye. The hound warns him when something isn't right, and he listens to Drake more than to Titan.

          - Half-blind: Due to a hunting accident, Kurret is blind in his right eye. This limits his ability to fight and hunt a bit but he finds ways to do both even though it is very difficult for him. This also limits his awareness of his surroundings, which can be very dangerous for him.

          - Pride: Kurret is a very proud youth. This gets him in fights often and some times he finds himself in tight spots. He also won't change his mind once it's been made up. Even if he is wrong he won't admit it most the time and that can endanger his life or the life of others sometimes.

          - Hunted: After leaving his father's home in the middle of the night he has been hunted. His father sent people after him, and Kurr constantly has to look over his shoulder to see if he is being followed. Kurret's father doesn't want him dead, but wants him returned home. His father gave orders for Kurret to be returned by any means necessary but wanted him alive. This could endanger others and himself if he puts up a fight.

          - Drinking: Kurret has trouble with drinking sometimes and when drunk tends to do very stupid things. He will start fights for no reason or provoke a fight with someone. Once in a while he starts a barroom brawl and has been thrown out of a few small towns for that. Before the hunting accident he was almost killed in a brawl once and was only survived because one of his friends stepped in.

          - Hate: Kurret hates wolves. He blames the creature for taking away his life. Kurret's face was marred by the claws of one of the beasts and was left alive by some cruel being. His hate overpowers any other emotion most of the time. He will go out of his way to kill one of the creatures even if he has important business.

          Kurret was born into a very wealthy family of lower nobility living in Nyermersys. He was born the son of Lord Thon and Lady Merdda. His father was a very well off noble and had always gave Kurret what he wanted. Growing up as the son of minor nobility had its ups and downs. He had to show up at all his fathers dinner parties as a little kid and was expected to behave. To get a five year old to sit still, be poliete, and quiet doesn't work very well, and after a couple of times his father gave up and allowed Kurret to skip them. When he grew older he was better behaved and made his father proud, if he bothered to show up. While growing up Kurret had problems with obeying, but his father let him run wild. When he turned ten, he began to straighten up a bit.

          When he turned six his father hired a tutor for archery and swordwork. Every day Kurret had to attend lessons before he was allowed to do anything else. He didn't really like the sword that much but he still trained during the time set aside for it. He took to archery faster and found a love for hunting and thanked his father for forcing him to learn the weapon. When he finished his training in the mornings he had nothing else to do untill early evening when his friends where finished with their lessons. He had learned to read and write a year or so earlier so during his spare time he would wander off to the library and read about history and stuff. Once he had crossed a reference to dragons he couldn't stop reading about them and would devour every scrap of information about the mythical beasts.
          At ten years old, Kurret was already very popular. His father's hall was always filled with his visiting friends and laughter.  After the day, the hall was usually a mess from games and rough housing. As he grew up that changed, going from rough housing to cards to talking. Most of his friends' parents had refused to allow Kurret at their homes until he grew up.  A couple years past and he still hadn't changed his ways, and fathers found they had to watch their daughters closer. Most nobles agreed that Kurret couldn't be trusted with their daughters, so to keep their children happy, the troublesome youth ws invited to dinners at other nobles houses. His father didn't like the rumors that came to him about his lawless son but he didn't do anything about it. Kurret was his heir and Thon couldn't punish him.

          When he was twelve he was invited on a hunt with one of his friends. Kurret had been taught to ride a horse around the same time he started swordwork and had taken to it quickly. On this day he took his father's large black horse for the hunt. At that time he was already obsessed with being in style and was the best looking boy out there. His leather leggings were split done one side from the knee to the bottom and connected again with laces on both sides, and his soft leather shirt was laces from the chest up with sleeves cut off and cuffed just below the elbows. Most wondered how he was going to manage but it worked out fairly well, and the next week on the hunt everyone was dressed similar.

          Whenever they went hunting Kurret was always around the scout that lead them, learning what he could. He became very skilled in tracking under the trained eye of the scout and was one of the best hunters among his friends, adding to his populatity. His father had many trophies put up in his hall during that time because of his son's prowess, and when his friends came over he would brag about the lad. Kurret found that he just loved hunting, with his friends or alone. Spending the day in the peaceful forest, tracking an elusive creature. Thoses were the best days for him.

          At fourteen his father bought him a Rusik Horse. Titan, was just a colt when they bought him and Kurret had a hand in training the animal, learning and bonding with the animal under the stablemasters watchful eye. After gaining possession of the wonderful animal he spent more time in the woods and out of the libraby during the day. Titan was a wonderful animal and Kurret thought the horse knew him better then he knew himself sometimes.

          When he was fifteen he rounded up his friends one night and they headed out to one of the nearby taverns. The bartendere's eyes widened when the number of people in the room doubled in a matter of moments, but after seeing their expensive clothing he calmed down. At least he would make some good coin this night. Kurret and his friends took over the tavern, taking in mug after mug of ale as the night wore on. Sometime during the night Kurret found himself in a fight with a really big man, the argument having been about some girl of his on Kurret's lap. This ended in punches thrown, then knives drawn. In the end Kurret almost lost his life but one of his friends had dragged him out of the tavern before things to too bad. They managed to make it back to Kurret's home, only to be met by angry parents standing in the doorway. After that his friend were confined to their homes for a month or two and none of them were allowed at Kurret's home again. But Kurret still acquired invitation to his friend's homes.

          At sixteen he was always into something, his roguish nature inspiring followers like always. Mostly he made visits to his friends' homes when they had large dinner parties. Kurret had made friends with some of his buddies' parents, and a few of them found it a pleasure to have him over, but it was only a few. He had tried his best to impress them, acting like the young gentlemen and flashing one of his charming smiles in their directions. A few of them fell for this, but most others were still wary of the rebellious youth. During theses dinner parties he joked with friends and flirted with girls under the watchful eyes of protective fathers.

          After he turned seventeen his father commissioned a portrait painted of him. After weeks of sitting in place for this artist during the day it was finally done. It had turned out alright and just the way his father wanted but Kurret didn't think it captured his personality. The stern look wasn't him, but his father liked it, and as long as he didn't have to sit still during the day for weeks again then it was good enough for him. After that he went back to life like it had been and was happy. More of his friend's parents began to trust him and his father was immensely proud of him for changing.

          About a month after the portrait was finished, Kurret went on a hunting trip with his friends. That morning he had saddled Titan and decided today he would take Drake with him. He had gotten Drake shortly after he had turned seventeen; the pup was trained to hunt before he got him. His father's stable hand was helping to train the dog further with his help. Kurret decided that it was time to bring the hound with him. He headed to the gates where the scout and the rest of his friends waited, riding Titan with Drake trotting along beside them.

          The hunt started out like normal, Kurret riding up ahead a bit. He spotted some track leading off the path onto a smaller deer trail. It looked like a lone wolf, Kurret thought about leaving the animal alone, but he couldn't just let it be. He thought of what the others would say if he downed a wolf by himself and that made up his mind. When he looked back, he saw that the others were still pretty far behind. Kurret dismounted and knelt next to the tracks. They were pretty fresh, so he turned and climbed back onto Titan's back and turned the beast toward the path.

          They crashed through the undergrowth, following the tracks, Drake trotting ahead, his nose going to the path occasionally. They came to a clearing, and Kurret turned Titan in a circle looking around. He dismounted once more, kneeling down to find the trail again. He turned toward the left, following the faint trail into the brush with his piercing blue eyes. A pair of amber eye looked back at him and before he could do anything the wolf leapt from the bushes.

          Kurret quickly stood and took a step back as the wolf came at him, hitting the beast's snout with the back of his hand. The wolf back off for a moment before attacking again, claws stretched out. The beast paw slashed at his face, slicing through flesh. The next thing Kurret remembered was the sound of a horse crashing through the forest and he thought he was dead after that. Everything was black in one eye, and his vision blurred with red in the other, blackness ready to take over. Then the blurred wolf in his vision disappeared and a great weight fell across his chest but he didn't care. Then the weight was lifted and the scout came into view.

          "Lone wolf?" someone asked.

          "I think not," the scout said, and then a noise could be barely heard in the distance, "pack, you three catch up with the others, they will need your help."

          At the edge of his hearing Kurret could tell that a few men had ridden off, but others still remained. The blackness was beginning to overwhelm him, and sounds, words, and images began to fade.

          "Let's get him bandaged up, if he loses too much blood we might not make it back," the scout said.

          Movement around him and the scout's words were the last things he remembered before waking up in his room, six weeks later. His father was asleep at his bedside as opened one eye, the room spinning a bit. Well at least he thought he opened one eye, but both eyes were open when Thon opened his eyes to see his son awake, the right eye staring blindly ahead. Kurret closed his eyes and opened them again, knowing that he had opened both eyes, but half the world was black. His left hand went to his right eye, wondering if something was over it. His father stopped his hand, looking down at him with sad eyes. Kurret jerked his hand away and brushed it over his right eye, strips of cloth ran along either side of his eye but his eye itself was free of cloth and open. He tried to sit up but the world spun faster and he fell back into the pillow, everything going back once more.

          Over the next few weeks he slowly healed, slowly getting back on his feet. He was confined to his room during that time, none of his friends were allowed to visit and he wasn't allowed a mirror. The weeks crawled by slowly, and at the end the bandages were removed. His father tried to convince him to keep from looking into a mirror but he couldn't keep him from it any longer. He got a hold of a mirror as soon as possible and looked within the glass at his reflection. His hand strayed to his face, tracing the deep scars that marred his features, his good eye straying to his sightless blue eye reflected in the mirror. Without warning he threw the mirror against the opposite wall, shattering the glass. The noise brought his father and servants to the room. They found the shattered mirror on the ground and Kurret lying on his bed staring at the ceiling with a hint of a tear glistening in his eye. His father and the servants left the room, leaving the youth alone.

          Kurret stayed in his room for a week, the servants leaving his food at his door and leaving the youth alone. He didn't know what to do, it seemed like his whole life had come crashing down on him. Kurret wondered why the gods had inflicted this upon him, and wished the wolf had killed him. He couldn't stand for anyone to see him like this, his friends where turned away, his father and mother turned away, even the servants were turned away from his door. Kurret shut out the world. At the end of that week he decided he couldn't stand it. That night he packed as much as he could into his saddle bags and a leather pack, taking all the coin he had on hand and anything valuable that he could sell and carry. Lastly he buckled on his sword, slinging his quiver and bow case across his back and strapping his hunting knife to his calf. After all his stuff was packed he took one last look around the room, his one good eye landing on the shattered remains that had never been removed. That ended all debate and he picked up his bags and headed to the window. He eased it open and climbed out, glad that his room was on the first floor.

          He crept around the house to the stables in the back, quietly opening the heavy wooden door and allowing rays of moonlight and starlight to penetrate the darkness. Titan woke when the stable door opened and looked up at Kurret. The youth crept over to Titan's stall, the horse neighing as he approached. A quick shush from Kurret quieted the animal, the young man looking toward the stable hand's quarters. Once sure they hadn't awoken he opened the stall door and saddled Titan then grabbed the reins and started to lead the horse out of the stables.

          As he approached the door he heard a small yip, and turned to find Drake jumping to see over to stall door at his retreating master. Kurret shushed the pup then turned to leave again. The hound let out another yip, louder than the one before, and a loud snort and movement could be heard from the stable hand's quarters. Kurret relented; knowing the dog would never let him leave. So he opened the dogs stall door and he pulled the hound's collar and rope leash from a hook on the wall. Leading the hound and horse from the stables he quietly slipped through the city streets. Leaving his old life long behind.

          He wandered through the city, heading toward the gate. He pulled the hood of his dark grey cloak to hide the scars from the peaking glare of the moon and starts. As he approached the gate and guard called out for him to halt.

          "Who are you?" The guard asked.

          "A traveler trying to leave the city good sir, and would appreciate it if you didn't block my path," Kurret said coolly.

          "Name?" The guard asked.

          "Kurr …" the youth started, before cutting off short. Most knew of the rebellious young noble and knew his father would want the run away back. He left it at that. The new name fit him now.  His appearance made him feel like a street mutt. Yes, the name fit. The guard let him pass unchallenged after that and he let Kurr and his animals pass that night. After that he wandered, roaming from town to town, trying to escape his life.

          When his father found out that his son had gone missing he was distraught and immediately called in soldiers. Kurret's mother was struck with grief when she found out about her son's disappearance and hid herself in her room. Thon sent men after his son, demanding they bring his heir back by any means necessary other than killing him. Kurret was his only son and he needed an heir. Merdda was furious with her husband for the orders about capturing her son and fell into deep mourning, and slowly emerged from her sad state. After a few months she was almost back to herself, a deep sorrow dwelled within her but she worked to set it aside. Thon was struck by grief as well, though anger at his son stood clearly forth. He was determinded that he would get his heir back.

          Kurr found himself dodging hunters all the time, finding himself spending time hiding in small villages along the way. The first city he had arrived in after leaving his home was rather small but it was still a nice place. He sold off all his valuables and greatly increased the amount of coin in his pouch. All his rings went as well. Well most of his rings, he kept one gold ring on a silver chain. With some of the coin he bought a small array of shirts, leather leggings, leather boots, and a set of leather armor. After that he continued traveling, keeping his face hidden in the depths of his dark grey cloak when around people, and sometimes when he was alone. He continues to wander, hunting and fighting for coin when he needs it. He hasn't had much need of coin since he had left home but he knows that his funds will run low one day.
          - Longsword
          - Longbow with quiver of arrows
          - Hunting knife

          - Clothing
          - Armor
          - Weapons
          - Gold ring on a silver chain
          - 4 waterskins
          - Titan's riding gear
          - Drake's collar and leash
          - Thick blanket
          - Food for a week
          - Feed for Titan and Drake
          - Three wooden bowls
          - Thin dagger
          - Flint and steel
          - Coin pouch

          Titan: Kurr's reddish-brown Rusik Horse. This animal and Kurr have become close in the five years they have been together and take care of each other. Kurr keeps Titan well fed and cared for. Titan watches Kurr's back and warning him when things don't feel right. Titan is a little over five fores at the withers, and is covered in mostly in a short reddish-brown coat with a white mane and tail.

          Drake: A Jhomcholan Diver that Kurr acquired shortly before the accident and has grown close too. This hunting hound is a little under two fores tall and about a ped and three fores long. His short coat is a brownish-gold color, with black eyes completing the typical apperance of this hound. Drake and Kurr work well together and the dog is very protective of the half blind youth.

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Azhira Styralias on February 05, 2008, 01:18:11 AM
Azhira El'rosse

Wind Mage / Thief

AIM - radagastrpgc

Email -

CD link is in sig

Title: Re: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info
Post by: Roslynn Chadwick on April 01, 2008, 10:27:40 PM
The best way to get a hold of be is through PM.

AIM= iipuu iipuu


My CD link is in my sig.