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Author Topic: Your Character Descriptions/Your Contact Info  (Read 36376 times)
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Niccoli Faust
« Reply #30 on: December 18, 2006, 06:53:52 AM »

I'm on the IRC, borrowing an email since mine went belly up. contact me by PM, I'm rarely without internet access
« Last Edit: December 18, 2006, 07:23:53 AM by Niccoli Faust » Logged
Tanari Thunder
Singing Researcher
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Posts: 104

« Reply #31 on: January 06, 2007, 04:16:29 AM »

Here we go: theaceforyou@hotmail.com

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.
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Posts: 269

« Reply #32 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.
Ilaróls, Nyerismysy's Pet
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Gender: Female
Posts: 235

Wolf, Mithral (Ilaróls)

« Reply #33 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.

"I am Wolf.
It is my cry you hear in the night,
My eyes that gaze at you from the shadows.
It is my heart that beats in your Soul,
My strength that makes you whole.
I am Wolf. I am in you.
You are in Me. We Are Wolf."
Morghan Nichole
Christian's Mute Servant
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Gender: Female
Posts: 95

Human, Zarathian/Ordian

« Reply #34 on: February 22, 2007, 02:52:17 AM »

Ezboard Msngr is the best- Email is Rpginfool@yahoo.com

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.
« Last Edit: February 22, 2007, 03:14:03 AM by Morghan Nichole » Logged

"As I was going up the stair
I met a man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
I wish, I wish he'd stay away."
Alassiel Telrúnya
Temperamental Bard
Approved Character
Offline Offline

Gender: Female
Posts: 1728

Elf, Ak’váth’rhím / Injerín

« Reply #35 on: March 23, 2007, 04:31:54 AM »

Contact info: alassiel.telrunya@gmail.com

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: http://img408.imageshack.us/img408/7919/charcterportraitalassielm1.jpg

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.

« Reply #36 on: April 02, 2007, 12:41:38 AM »

Here is my CD;

Here is my email;
Seh'nara Celebrindal
Swift Ranger
Story Mod
Offline Offline

Gender: Female
Posts: 2075

Elf, Tethinrhim

« Reply #37 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.

Tzilon Ikara
Approved Character
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Gender: Male
Posts: 168

Human, Epheronian

« Reply #38 on: April 09, 2007, 12:56:43 PM »

Email: thelordfoxy@gmail.com

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
« Last Edit: April 11, 2007, 03:46:44 AM by Tzilon Ikara » Logged

Phoenix Calista
Phoenix of Fire
Approved Character
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Gender: Female
Posts: 56

Elf, Quaelhoirhim

« Reply #39 on: April 16, 2007, 10:46:31 PM »

Contact: doomed2stardom@gmail.com

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: http://img149.imageshack.us/img149/864/pc2xk5.jpg

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.
« Last Edit: April 17, 2007, 01:12:15 AM by Phoenix Calista » Logged

I didn't lose the game; I just ran out of time. ~ Phoenix Calista
Chivalrous Orc
Approved Character
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Gender: Male
Posts: 65

Orc, Volkek-Oshra

« Reply #40 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.

Grimbeard Ironfist
New Santharian

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Gender: Male
Posts: 1

« Reply #41 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!

John Weiler
Phoenix Calista
Phoenix of Fire
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Gender: Female
Posts: 56

Elf, Quaelhoirhim

« Reply #42 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.
« Last Edit: April 21, 2007, 02:17:17 AM by Phoenix Calista » Logged

I didn't lose the game; I just ran out of time. ~ Phoenix Calista
Sparrow Brooks
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Human, Helcrani

« Reply #43 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.

Fatal Rose
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Gender: Male
Posts: 199

Elf, Coor'hem

« Reply #44 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.
« Last Edit: April 21, 2007, 04:05:55 PM by Fallen » Logged

If madness was a murder... I'd be a killing spree

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