Departed Characters.

Koldar Mondrakken

Contact: holger.goebber@gmx.de
ICQ: 87137127

[Somewhere on the Northern traderoad near the city of Strata on a hilltop. The night is dark beside the sparkling stars that seem even brighter here in the South of Santharia. I wonder what an elven bard might sing about them... Small lights are sparkling below indicating the begin of civilized lands, the dark walls of the City of Strata is cutting through the landscape and behind it and a bunch of houses the sparkling ocean.]

Koldar Mondrakken:

...Knight of unknown origin and not so unknown vagabound, gatherer of rare items and restless wanderer... so or somehow similar you can read in the chronicles of New-Santhala by our great sage Artimidor Federkiel.

Now, in fact that's nonsense! First of all, I know where I come from but I don't see the need to tell anybody! Gatherer of rare items? Ha! Read thief and you know what I'm doing but it's none of your business, too!! Restless wanderer? Yes, for sure. How can you rest when you run across an orcish warband at every corner?! It is not that I'm interested in adventures and somesuch but sometimes you have to do certain things and sadly I'm the right one for everything where a whole army would be inefficient or a massive overkill.
See me as 'problem-solver' and in this world there are enough of them to solve.

I think I'm slender, relative tall and damn attractive! Well, okay, the last one was an exagerrated assumption by me but you have to think positive in some way when you think the world is right behind you!
I'm usually dressed in brown leather and green cloth to be better hidden in the woods. My weapons of choice is a 1.75 -True-Oakwood-staff and my good old longsword but to be honest: You don't need them against most enemies. Running is always better than fighting against any opposing warbands. These adventurers telling stories about killing hundreds of Orcs in an hour are stupid morons not knowing reality! One Orc is tough enough, two a real pain in the a.., well, enough of that.
I've travelled far in the last years, farther than most people, I guess, and I have seen things beyond imagination, but I survived most of the time unharmed because I evaded the trouble I could and fought the one that chased me and that was already enough of both kinds for a whole lifetime to suffer alot. Perhaps because of that some friends are telling me I always have a shadow on my face but dreaming eyes... I'm drifting away again.
I came here two years ago. Nice, peaceful continent, I guess. When you don't scratch on the surface! At least, not many hostile greenskins around, well here in the South anyway. But enough bandits pestering the countryside. Perhaps they should start shipping them for continents that have too few or not any at all. Still, under the protection of this caravan which I'm part of as mercenary and so close to the city there should be no problems anymore.
Well, I think I go visiting the 'thirsty Herald'. Even Artimidor and the thousands of missions he gave me should not stand in the way for a small rest here in the far south.

Fare Well, People! Perhaps we'll see us for a glass of wine or ale later!

[Leaving the caravan strolling down the hill towards the lights of a considerable larger house nearby with a huge sign at the door. Noise and singing can be heard through the door....]

Avour

Name: Avour
Title: Ranger (Elf/Human female)
Gender: Female
Age: 26 Human years
Race: Elf/Human
Class: Ranger
Alignment: Neutral
Eyes: Black - Dark Grey
Hair: Black

Education: Slim to none, basic english speaking skills.

History:

Being born to an out cast elven mother and a dottering human father, Avour is the result of a huge breeding mix match. She's known since she can remember that she was an accident. The result of an egar human and a stupid elf.

Although she was raised by loving parents, at the age of 5, Avour left them both and ran away to live with her animal friends in the forest who ended up raising her. Naming her Daughter of Our Forest, Avour Air Lover so named by her parents favourite animals and skill is to fly. Although she doesn't usually go any higher than a few leaves off the ground, she generally floats, rather than walks. "You never know who you might step on".

Having spent most of her life in the forest with the animals there, Avour now wants to explore her human and elven sides. So has emerged from the forests of Santharia!

Description:

Avour is a skilled hunter and an amasing tracker. Spending all her life living in the forest, she is at home there. Knows what to hunt, where to hunt and how to hunt it. Deadly Silent!

Having inherited her mothers magical elven powers for the earth, and her fathers strength and physical abilities, Avour is rather a formidable opponent. With a special healing quality in her blood.

Like her other elven relatives, she can use her mind to talk. This is her main form of communication not only with the two legged creatures, but with the four legged creatures also.

Fit, agile, a little animalistic charm about her. She's a natural protector and preditor.

Although Avour is 26 human years old, she like her elven mother, looks a lot younger, than she is. Skilled in the art of hunting and self presivation, her word is her bond.

She's a little on the wild side. Although not disrespectiful about the laws of nature and that death will also come to her one day.

Not really a person for crouds, as she's been with animals most of her life. Her manners are not quite up to scratch. She has some animal like characteristics like the way she scratches her ears and acts in general.

It takes a lot to get her angry, however once she's there she goes into a rage. Normally a fairly calm person who would likes to take a chance.

Generally, normal in the human emotion aspect - emotional at times, restricted when she has to be. Has some of the wild charm that elves have.

Has a slight green tinge to her skin. Reasons currently unknown.

Loyal.

Almost like a child... Just tall.... Wants to learn everything that she can

Silfer Darkflare

Name: Silfer Darkflare
Class: Elemental mage
Kit: Lightning specialist
Age: 90
Race: Elf
Hair: Black
Eyes: Cold blue

Description:Silfer is a young mage, who knows something and always loooks how to learn more.He leads the life of a wanderer, living nowhere, searching,searching for the ancient temple of the Horadrim, a very powerful mage clan gone long ago.
He is always willing to take a good adventure, taking sides after what gains him.He is for the good so long it gains him,but can go to evil if it is better for him. Laws and orders have no value.
From the age of 40, he has studied magic, espesially intrested in lightning, the strongest, but also the most dangerous element. After 2 years of studying in his homeplace, he left it and started to look for what he could learn on his own.
Silfer prefers magic in combat, and knows the art of dual-casting, which means casting two spells at the same time,one from each hand. Because of this, he bears no weapons, but knows the basics of using a scimitar.Because the lightning element is offensive, Silfer knows few protection spells, relying on destroying the opponent before getting hurt.The specialization makes it very hard to learn earth-related spells, such as turning to stone. Of the other elements Silfer knows very little, maybe a basic spell or two.
He travels alone, but joins if there are money and especially artifacts to gain.His ultimate goal is to find the Horadric temple,which after the legend contains ancient knowledge about magic, but no one exactly knows what it can be.

My ICQ:111941953

Almenda

Almenda is a weird little thing. He looks a lot like a halfling, but about 3/4 the size of most humans. He has the feet of a halfling, so he needs no shoes, and wears a beard, like a man. He eats like a halfling, up to 8 good meals a day if he can afford it. He's a bard by choice, and comes from a land far north of the lands of sorren. He plays the mandolin, and often sings along. He has most thievery skills, especially those that require good finger agility, like picking locks and pick pocketing. He only steals when he needs to, and this is often how he gets his money to eat. He is able to make repairs on his mandolin, like making strings. One of his major weaknesses is that he is not very skilled with any weapon besides the bow, and only carries a short sword to make people think that he is. His most distinguishing factor is his hair, which is jet black on the top of his head and on his feet, but his beard is stark white. He has only one spell at his disposal, which is how to make a fire without wood or heat, so he can go anywhere without worrying about warmth. He often wears a big yellow hat with a blue tunic, and some green pants.

Facts:
Hight: 4'9"
Wight: 150 pounds.
Eyes: Bluish-Green.
Hair: Black, with a white beard.

Personality:
Always there with a smile, he is often considered go-lucky, but really is only like that on the outside. He can sense when things are about to go sour and starts to get ready for it, without changing face. He has a certain charisma about him, and often gets less price on may foodstuff. He often tries to go along with large parties of adventurers, and in doing so, get into many crazy adventures.

History:
He comes from the lands of Arloton, Far north of the lands of Sorren. In those lands, Halflings have meshed with the humans and some have even bred with them, Leading to miniture humens, or large halflings, depending on which side you where on. These half-halfings where considered montrositys by the humans and halflings alike. And so where made to leave the lands of Arloton in search of new lands. Most became bards or thieves and went is search of taverns and citys out of Arloton to use their trade. Almenda was one such person, His father a halfling and his mother a human. They tought him how to make, play, and take care of a mandolin. His father also tought him a few things with thievery, and how to use a bow. When the age of leaving came upon him, he said some tearful and thankful goodbyes, and headed south, where he heard he could find some good taverns. He travled far and wide. And even found a brownie school of fire magic, where they tought him how to make fire without wood or heat. He still wonders around the lands, and is often with a nice party of adventures, so he may let his music fill thier spirits.

Bard. (Male Half-halfling)

Almenda, bard of Arloton, north of the lands of Sorren.

Gean Firefeet

Gean Varcistin Firefeet
Age: 42
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Height: 1.82m Weight: 75kg
Hair: dark blond
Eyes: Brown

Description
Though of profession a historian, the look of Gean is still a little wizard like, a remnant of his Ximaxian time. He wears a large cloak usually coloured green or brownish, with a red edge near the ground. From under the cloak heavy leather boots appear, which are marked by numerous travels, a few fights and countless sand-grains. Around his waist a common belt holds the cloak close to his body, a sword hangs on his left side sheathed, the sheathe is adorned by a few stones and runes. Around his neck hangs a silver necklace, most of the time located under his clothes. His head is covered by a sturdy ironplated cap.
His height is a little above average but not impressive, his hair a little longer than usual but not striking. His eyes are common brown but sometimes ot light up or darken depending on his mood or emotional state. He's usually a friendly guy but sometimes a little overinterested in history instead of a good conversation. A good fighter with the sword and a practicer of magic too, but not too well.

History
Gean Varcistin Firefeet (1608a.S. -present)
Historian and hobbyist mage. Stratanian patriot, suspected leader of some rebellion activities to make Strata again capital of the Truban province. Seeks out all cities and libraries contained in the southern province in search of true facts about Stratanian history, as well checking elders of the Shendar and Stratanians for unwritten history. Hopes one day to compile the complete history of Strata and its empire.

Gean Varcistin was born in the borderstreet of the East Dunes and the Sand Garden in Strata. In this street the rivalry between the two quarters of the town was clearly visible. Rich merchants and common workers lived next door, which sometimes resulted in small incidents in the neighbourhood. He was from a mediocre wealthy house, a family of immigrants from Marcogg. His father Elrin was a good magistrate and worked at the Trading House, but was more important to Gean, he was fond of history, especially Strata's. Elrin Varcistin was as well a natural born storyteller, and Gean was from young age taught in Strata's history through hero stories and unbelievable legends. Nevertheless Elrin was responsible for his son's interest in history, but Gean always saw it more like a hobby.

At school he appeared to be a quite intellectual pupil, who easily earned, with an interest in history and mathematics. But his dream was to study at one of the academies of Ximax, a dream he wanted to realise. So it happened that when his local education was finished he said his mother and father goodbye and left for Ximax. He stayed there for two years, becoming specialized in fire magic, but he didn't have enough talent to become a true magician and left after two years of study disappointed. There was one thing he gained though: a new name. He was called Firefeet by his friends, because of an (in)famous spell he had invented creating a field of flames around the caster to let the enemy walk over fire to reach him.

He went back to Strata and decided to switch two things: Magic became more like a hobby, and history would be his job. Thus he left for New-Santhala, to study history there. This is where he came in contact with Artimidor Federkiel, Royal Archivist at the court. Though Gean went back to Strata when he finished his study in New-Santhala to conduct research on Stratanian history, he remained in contact with Artimidor and regulary sends him essays and stories on the Stratanian history, which are gratefully accepted to be integrated in Artimidor's masterpiece the Santharian Compendium.

He usually spends his days travelling through the country in search of history's remainings and will sometimes stop by taverns to have a nice time tasting the different wines the province is rich. Will sometimes accept small quests for the Stratanian government as private researcher and sometimes even a sort of detective. Frequently promotes the new status of Strata at the court in New-Santhala but hasn't found a hearing ear there yet.

Awyon Blackblade

Name: Awyon Blackblade
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Race: Human
Class: Swashbuckler
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black

Swashbuckler: This Rogue is part Acrobat, part swordman and part wit: the epitome of Charm and Grace

Descpription:

Awyon is a rather neutral person. He useally keep himself away from partyes and dislike to bind himself to someone. He has never told anybody why, but it surely has to do with his past.

He is a very good thief. He is specialized in to hide in shadows, open locks, move silently and too find traps, but he lack strength. On the other hand again he is extremely quick, the enemy may be dead before they self now it. He only steal if he has to since he doesn`t like to steal other peoples life supply. Some times he may work as a mercenary, but it`s seldom.

He is wearing a black studded leather that cover his chest. Under it he has a grey jersey with a grey hood that cover his head. He wears grey trousers and black leather boots. At night he nearly gets invincible for those who not have infravision.

He is most proficient in long swords and short bows. He keep two swords with him all the time. He useally fight with both of them, but if the situation is wrong, he doesn`t dual.. His favorite sword, “Nightblade”, hangs in the sheath to his right. The sword has a black hilt with a yellow topaz in the middle of the hilt. For some reason the blade is also black. The sword is enchanted, once per day it can turn him invincible if needed. He only use the ability if he has to, since it takes much power from him. The sword also have advantages againts evil monsters or species, and it have a disadvantage. If he use this sword againts good forces he will be blown back with a enormous speed, (it do really hurt) and lose his invisibility.

The other sword, “Skyblade”, is the opposite. The sword has a blue hilt with a red rubin in it. It hangs in his left sheath. Also this has a strange color on the blade, it is blue. It has a little adventage againts good species, and also this has a disadvantage. If he use this sword on evil forces he will lose strength and be so weak that he suddenly don`t manage to even hold his swords, making him a easy target.

He is very weak againts big groups, but againts small partyes he has a bigger chanse.

Awyon don`t know it, but his sword Skyblade shelters his thoughts, making them a grey mist for them who try to read them.

One of his major weaknesses is his courage, or if it becomes to much, it`s stupidity. In his case it`s the last one. Many times he just leap into a party of enemies without thinking. Lucky for him, he has managed to escape every time, but it`s not so sure he will next time. The scar on his forehead is a result of his stupidity.

After reading through his story it may seem that he is alone, but he isn`t. For some years ago, Awyon saved a little Pseudo Dragon from bandits that were after it`s skin. The little dragon has followed him on his journyes from that day. For some reason, Awyon has called the Pseudo Dragon , Pooky. The Pseudo Dragon has grey skin and yellow eyes. He can talk and can easely make conservation, but he always refer himself in 3. person. As all other dragons, Pooky flies. Useally he flies by Awyon, but he has a favorite spot in Awyon`s backpack and spends much time there. Pooky know some simple spells, but they are few and don`t do that much harm.

History:

As you ask Awyon about his past he turns away. His earlyer thoughts fade away and sorrow flows through his mind. He slowly take a nip of his beer and replyes with a peewish tone, “it`s none of your business”. At last he decides to tell a little sample from his childhood.

Awyon was born in the little town Gwerolyn on Denilou. He lived in a average family that managed to make enough lifesupply for themself. They also sold alot since the father was a baker. Awyon disliked very much doing “womanwork” as he called it, and would rather spend the day playing in the mountains. He was more like a Warrior, he thought. Some years later buyed Awyon his first dagger with money he had saved for years. He took it out of his sheath every day and polished it gently, the dagger was everthing he owe becides a roll his father gave him on his 10. birthday. One day he woke up freezing. Someone had opened the window. He stood up, rubbed his eyes and closed the window. Suddenly a thought struck him, his dagger?
He searched for many hours, but the dagger was gone. He could had contiuned until next day if not his father had comed in and given him a lesson for coming 9 hours to late for work. His stumach rumbled to so he went out in the kitchen. Just as he sat down on a chair he started to think. “What a fool he had been, saving money for decades just to lose it all after a week. What was the point being a proud warrior if you didn`t have the money for both armor and weapons?” He felt on his arms, “and the muscles?” From that day he decided to be a thief.

He rise from his chair and say to Pooky, “let`s go”. The little dragon who was drinking from his bowl of water were currently surprised for the hastly leave. He flyes in Awyon`s backpack as Awyon throws some coppercoins to the bartender. “This should cover the stay”. He turns and walks out of the inn, into the black night. A neigh from a horse is heard, then the horse galops away. Suddenly they are gone in the fog that hangs over the ground as the nights guardian.

ICQ: 138531064

Eshoh Kryvvlen

Name: Etheval K'ryvvlen is his given-name, but the people of his land call him Veván(bird in styrash), for reasons later described. Later in his life (at the time I am playing him) he names himself Eshóh, which means(somewhat?) False Light.

Gender: Male

Age: 30 appearance, about 303 in elven.

Race: Elf

Tribe: Artyrhón

Occupation: Currently a mix of a wanderer, thief, seller of certain herbs and knives (just to make a few san)

Title: River Highwayman (since he is a sea-elf, and mostly travels down rivers by boat, and has his tendency to steal.)

Full Portrait:

Appearance: Etheval is about 2.16 peds high, and about 1.6 pygges in weight. His hair is straight down to his knees, and is a strawberry-blonde color. (a mix of light cinnabrown, tekf red, and korwyn gold, sorta) Past his waist it is braided, but there are unkempt strands about him. His eyes.. well.. EYE at this point.. is a lovely vontromarine. He has very bad eating habits, contributing to being extremely slender, almost to the point of looking sickly. Meaning his bones stick out well at some places, ie. cheekbones, elbows, knees, hips, you get the idea.

He lost his left eye in a thieving acciddent, and wears a bandage circling his head in a diagonal manner. His knife collecting habits have gotten him a few good cuts, leading to tiny pink scars on his otherwise warm, peachy-pink skin, that's slightly dark, but not near the shade of his hair. (mariners do get a bit tanned, y'know..) The most noticable are located on his left nostril, and a bunch of little ones on his large hands.

Clothes: He wears a greyish-blue tunic that's mid-thigh length, with a belt circling his waist carrying his belonings in various pouches. It's sleeves are down to his elbows, and the collar is adorned with small beads and shells of a brown-tan color in a dripping-looking fashion, down his chest.

Covering his legs is a pair of traded-fabric leggings of a dark blue, and over that, brown covers that run from mid-thigh to ankles and carry ten of his favorite knives, 5 to each leg, in small slits made of the same medium brown leathery matieral. He also has a Dark slate-blue grey cloak of dyed nul'tum skin, which he traded a good deal of fancy knives to get. It's rimmed with plain nul'tum fur on the hood. He wears no shoes at all times. Most of this he has traded knives and herbs for san and then bought.

His clothes are a bit travel-stained.

Personality: Eshóh is a rather softly-spoken, very calm and easy guy, and he always means what he says and rarely to never lies, therefore is an extremely trustworthy companion, if he decides he likes you. You can trust him, but it takes a good while before he begins to truely trust you with his heart. His mood is melancholy at times, most likely if something reminds him of the sea, and the tragic accident that changed his life. This is not constant, however, he can be blandly cheerful if in the right company and scenery.

He is not greedy with money, but does have a tendency to steal. And he only steals knives and daggers/dirks, for various reasons. Therefore another reason you can trust him (unless you are a fighter that relies totally on knives and daggers...), even though he is named a thief by many. He doesn't mind taking risks, and will do them fully without much hesitation. He's got a tendecy to perch on things. Being barefoot makes this easy. Eshóh also is pretty intelligent, though you really don't know what he's thinking about at times. At times he's a little too dreamy, which may cause trouble. He doesn't have a great deal of self-control, either - so if he means to tell you something, whether it's rude or not, he'll say it. He doesnt mind any other races, having dealt with many of them.

History: The only son of a fisherman named Yvvir and the daughter of a fisherman Neteral, it was obvious from birth what he was going to be! He was raised up fishing along the Eight Winds Bay, sometimes even sailing down the river towards the Sea of Tears. Etheval was a very steadfast kid, always hasty, and with an agenda to fulfill for the day. He was never althletic, but coming up with new, daring things to try out. He loved to take risks - usually having to do with his tendency to perch. That is why they call him Veván - which means bird in Styrash. First it was just on top of fences, or tree branches, and by the age of 16, when he was first set upon a large merchant ship to carry some of the fish-scale baubels and glitteries around to different areas, Etheval stood high on top of the mast, balancing excellently. His family was shocked, and he was called to come down, but he did not until it was of his own free will some time later, where his only excuse was "Because."

From then on he was looked at rather strangely, but not in a bad way. Some talked about him just wanting attention. Some of the younger elvenfolk admired his great balancing skills, and enjoyed going off on small adventures with him.

Etheval aged well like an Arthyhon for the next ninety-some years after the mast incident, and he learned all there was to be learned about fishermanship (including some bowmanship to defend against raiders/pirates), even having a sailboat of his own, though rather small, built for solo journeys, as his family saw him as an independent soul, and though the feared for his steadfastness and calm boldness, knowing it would have some effect on him besides people gossiping about him and making false judgements. He had a tendency to come home from long adventures very sick, because he was absolutely atrocious eating habits if someone is not offering food to him at regular intervals.

Well, on one of his solo adventures, when he was about 136, he met a band of Méladrhim Elves, who were intending on trading with the nearest city/town/thing of Arthyhon, and this where Etheval met Dhuvati, a handsome maiden to the Méladrhim, absolutely stunning to Etheval. He immediately go to know her better - she was the leader's daughter, and only younger than himself by about thirty years. He was enamoured - pouring his heart to her, taking her on journeys down rivers on his boat and back to his homelands, where his family anxiously awaited - he never told them ever when he'd be back. It was just by luck every time he came home.

She adored the place - after all, Méladrhim are obsessed with the sea, and the Eight WInds Bay is just as nice. They courted a long sixty years (which would feel like about two years in human time?) before Etheval proposed to Dhuvati, and took her on a huge ship that was meant to be heading out to the island of Lunin to deliver cargo of various things that the elves who lived there needed, but it was also coming nigh to the time of Kára'ecuá, and many were taking the huge ship as cargo themselves to visit their kin and feel some connection to their kind of elves where they are secluded. This is where she was completely dumbstruck by awe of the sea, and when Etheval spoke of his urge to climb to the top of the bow (front of ship? ^^

of the ship and be there alone with her, she agreed wihtout much hesitation

As they stood there, it was not known that a slight change in current would stir the boat slightly, unnoticable by the other passengers, Dhuvati, being almost poisoned with glee of the sea and her lover, and without very strong sea legs, was cast overboard, while Etheval's balance held. It was over before he noticed anything, and she was nowhere in sight, yet there was a vast amount of blood in the sea. he dove desperately, but was never able to recover her, not even a body.

From then on, Etheval was treated much differently. It was as if the folk of his land were looking for a reason to estrange him - his hastiness and daring had finally done incredible harm. They began to outcast him, even someof his own family and closekin, and so sick did Etheval become of the sea-life, that he took his boat out with only his clothes, a bag of dried kelp to eat, and a tiny amount of san, and left down south along the Liben river. Rivers appealed to him suddenly now in his incredible shock, that delivered him into the melanchony he can sometimes still recieve. At this point he was merely dumbstruck and angry at his kin.

After finding a group of travelers that he simply pinched everything from san to herbs to their knives, daggers and dirks, he knew then he was obsessed with them, far more than anything else he could steal. He only stole for survival - and so disillusioned was he in his early years after the accident that his better training and elven breeding was lost to him, and he began to use his natural balance and somewhat grace to pilfer many a smaller blade - only the most beautiful, like his dear Dhuvati, and so deadly - it was fascinating to hold so many of such a thing. He sold off many of them to buy the makings of his leg covers - and some fabric left over to make adjustable pockets for the knives themselves, the ten he favored most that he always wanted to carry with him. Knife/dagger stealing and selling became a habit and a good way to make enough san to buy provisions every once in a while, while he was traveling slowly down to Southern Sarvonia and it's lands.

He would often linger in one place for a few years, spending time that would feel about a year if human.

Once, a well-aged and equipped fighter he targeted, and instead of getting the dagger into a pocket, it was driven into his left eye, because of the way he was bent down to remove it from the belt that held it, scabbard and all. It was a miserable injury - one Etheval only knew to treat with severe painkilling herbs and to bind up well. He still has a bandage over his eye now - slightly bloody, but it has healed over time, and of course he is blind in that eye now. That also started another problem of his - headaches. Apparently the dagger had messed with his sinus just below his eye, this often giving him bad sinus headaches from the time the wound healed on - and now he carries an amount of dried Yahrle leaves/flowers - it seems to not only help the pain, but improve his mood, and so he began to grow it whenever he made one of his stops, and not only used it himself, but used it as another way of making a few san off travellors or apothecaries. He has a slight addiction to it.

Thus he went through down Central and Southern Sarvonia. He left his ship somewhere near the Southern Foothills, now taking whatever ship he could wherever, just travelling as he can afford down rivers. Eventually he made it known to every new person he met that his name was Eshóh - the False Light, for the light in his eyes and hair and of his people had withered in him.

Strengths: His absolute trustworthiness - he never told a lie, and by Dhuvati and Avá, he will not tell a lie to save his life. He is also very good at balancing, as you have read, and good at making himself nigh invisible when he wants to be. He has good grace, and can be very lightfooted - meaning pretty much unhearable when he wants, and can jump/climb fairly well. Thus he is good at his thievery of knives/daggers.

Also, he is good with plants and herbs in general, though he is no healer or apothecary - simply just knows from experiences. Knows how to use his small blades when extremely prevoked.*

He's also a good listener, even if he's quiet, and is pretty intelligent, though no scholar. His vast knowledge, however, of shipfaring along seas and rivers, to smaller bodies of water, would be extremely helpful should a party ever need to cross one, and thus is his strongest point.

Weaknesses: Though graceful and surefooted, Eshóh is NOT at all fast, in fact, he can run about as well as your average human. He can be easy to catch. Also, as you have read before, his habits of being dreamy and steadfast have not left him, even though they have caused tragedy, and can cause more trouble in the future. He cannot fight well either. The knives/daggers/small blades he keeps are mostly for beauty - if ever needed to use them, all he knows is to STAB WILDLY. Usually not very effective. He's rendered almost useless in a heavy fight, preferring to take care of those he enjoys the presence of after the battle and stay to the side, ready but nervous to help if he is truly needed.

His headaches make him completely useless, as well, in many situations, *unless prehaps it becomes so bad he tries to eliminate that around him to get peace and quiet long enough to suffer through. His headaches also don't go away very easily on their own - because of his extensive use of Yahrle over the many years. Basically he's somewhat addicted to it.

Lastly, if he is ever to meet another Méladrhim elf, male or female, he will become completely enamored with them - forsaking anything else, which would be something good for an evil mastermind to know if he was after a party Eshoh was a part of.

Weapons: Though he was trained in bowmanship when he was younger and travelled a lot on merchant and fisherman ships, it was never to his liking, and was more towards letting a form of cowardice be his weapon than a bow. However, now, he does have his assortment of small blades, that he CAN sometimes use for certain hurtful purposes.

Belongings:
1 Large pouch on his belt that holds a deal of dried plans and smoked fish of varying ages, used as his only food. Also holds a small cheap metal cup with a bit of hanging handle that he uses to make his Yahrle tea when he gets headaches.
1 Smaller pouch divided into two pockets that contains his Yahrle, and a little bit of of the root and flower of the Alth'mon plant that he is able to find most of the time.
1 Small pack, carried under his cloak on his belt, (therefore onely seen when his back is turned to you without his cloak on) that contains a deal of extra fabric that his leg covers are made from, some thread made from sinew, and a tough bone needle, so as to adjust his knife/dagger containers to whatever size they need be, whether a short knife or large dirk.
1 Smallest pouch, containing whatever san he's got at the time.
Ten knives, daggers, or dirks, of varying make and style, that often change for his habit of stealing them and selling off those he doesn't want anymore. .

'I am grey. All but those like me see only darkness and light, they do not see the grey between them. In this greyness I dwell. I would not wish this fate on any other.'