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Author Topic: Character Descrips.  (Read 5610 times)
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Oscar Lotus
New Santharian

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Posts: 775

« on: November 15, 2002, 12:13:22 AM »

Ok this is the thread to post your character descrips.

Oscar Lotus-
Age- 45
Nationality- Avennorian
Occupation- Tavern owner and Resistance helper.
Weapons- spring loaded knives hidden under sleeves.  Can swim deeper and longer underwater than most humans. And his mind which is the best weapon of all.  Wears no armor.
Clothing- usually just a brown pair of pants and a shirt.  Nothing spectacular.

<center> ***********

<h3>Oscar Lotus</h3>

A beer in the belly is never a bad thing........


Edited by: Oscar Lotus at: 11/14/02 3:37:03 pm
Wind Waker
Approved Character
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Gender: Male
Posts: 3372

Elf, Ylfferhim

« Reply #1 on: November 15, 2002, 03:11:22 AM »

Okay you asked for it :lol    

Name: Gararion

Race: Elf

Title: Elven Magi

Tribe: The Ylfferhim Tribe

Age 532


- Eyes: Blue
- Hair: Silver
- Skin: Tan
- Markings: Scar across the neck, Missing left ear
- Clothing: Clothing from Ximax; Plain Black Cloak

Gararion’s eyes seem to be a mysterious blue color.  They seem to have a different mixture of blue in them every time one looks into them.  They go from a light blue to a rich dark blue. Gararion only bears to scars, one in which is hidden from most people.  The on that is visible is the scar that runs across his neck.  The one that is hidden is the missing left ear.  Gararion wears a black silky robe that seems to be metallic in appearance as it glistens with the same glisten as
shiny metal.  This rob has a hood that is made of the same material that he always wears.  This is the hood that hides his missing ear from view. Both the robe and hood are trimmed in a delicate silver fabric.  On top of this robe he wears a article the hangs over his shoulders.  It is made from
the exquisite golden material that seems to shimmer during even the darkest nights.  He received these articles of clothing from Ximax.  The robe tells that he is a teacher and the golden shoulder piece is the symbol that he is a  apprentice to one of the Archmagi of Ximax.  During travels he
wear a plain black cloak covering the wardrobe underneath.  Tis makes himself get warmer than most but he counters this effect by creating the occasional cool breeze about himself which cools himself down.


-Magic School: Wind
-Level 10


Known only as Gararion, he is self-made man. He was born within the Ylfferhim Tribe but he fought to find his place in this world as he left the tribe at the age of 135. He was born with the natural talent of magic, which he trained to a fine art. He has tried to gain as much knowledge in this magic mystery as possible. His fierce drive to win allowed him little time for a social life. Eventually he came to the realization that he hated the attention of others.

His life as a Ylfferhim elf let him learn many things about the world of magic. He has had theluck of being one of the many Elven people of his tribe to be born with the natural ability to
sense Oh'mód'hál. When he reached the age of 135, he decided to leave the tribe that he was born in and travel to see the world and to learn more about the magic world.  He just didn't believe that he could learn all that would be needed to master the magic arts within his home tribe.

While traveling the world, Gararion encountered the love of his life. She was a human and went be the name of Sara. They spent 57 years with each other loving each other to the ends of the earth. Gararion for once was happy and eased on his magic studies for he spent most of his time with his love. Nevertheless, Gararion outlived his human love life span. Sara died at the age of 77, while Gararion held her within his arms. He vowed never to fall in love or to let his emotions to get to the best of him for it took to much time from his studies.  He began to resent ever falling in love with another. He once again began his studies with even more intensity then he had ever had before.  For this time he had no distractions that would arise from his life, like the love that he had for Sara.

After the death of his love, Gararion decided that he had to catch up on the 57 years that he missed in his studies.  He decided to go and learn what he could from the teachers at "The Magical Academy of Ximax".  He choose to further his knowledge in the school of Wind for he felt that this school had the closest attachment to himself and the deep energy within his heart for learning.  He spent 30 years studying at Ximax as a student learning as much as he could from the great mages that taught there.  He had always wished that he would someday be as good as them and be able to spread his knowledge in the area.  After graduating from the school he decided to stay there another 300 years after his graduation for this place he felt, would be the
only place that he would not be disturbed.  During this time he had finally came to relise his skill, as well did the archmagi of Ximax as well.  The archmagi of "The Tower of the Skies" confronted Gararion one morning.  Gararion puzzled and troubled by this appearance stood still
and waited for what would happen as the Archmagi seldom came to the lesser beings of the people of Ximax.

"Young Gararion, I come here as a spoke person to announce the voices of the other Archmagi of Ximax.  We have sensed great skill in you young Gararion.  We know that there are few with your drive to learn and thirst for knowledge and this makes you very gifted Gararion."

"I am honored sir by this vist and this news."

"We, the Archmagi as a whole, have seen this and want to se your skills grow.  Thus we would like you to learn what only can be learned through teachings.  Thus we ask you if you wish to help myself and the other teachers teach the students of Ximax  in the school of the wind element?"

"I would be honored sir to help you in any manner possiable."

"I am glad to hear that Gararion as I am sure our paths will cross again in time.  I will entrust that you will have a great influance on the future students of Ximax."

As the Archmagi had said this he walked away to whereever he was to be, Gararion did not care.  He had finally had a chance to teach at Ximax.  What a honor would that be.  He taught the students of Ximax for years leased that he had had the chance to do so.  He always wondered why the Archmagi of the Great Towers would be interested in him, only time would tell.  During his life within Ximax Gararion always felt a strange presence around him at all times.  Almost as if someone had been watching him.  There was someone watching him, as the Archmagi that came to him and offered him the job at Ximax watched him closely.  He was truely interested in Gararion and his skill.

The Archmagi watched Gararion close and found it fit to confront him once more to adress him.  Gararion sensed his coming and prepaid himself as usual.  He tidied up his paper from the following class and waited for the Archmagi to enter.  The doors opened slowly with a slight breeze entering, turning the corners of the paper up.

"Welcome sir.  What brings me the honor of your visit?"

"I have been pleased with your efforts young Gararion and wish to offer you a proposal."


"As my current apprentice has come ill lately I am in the need for a apprentice till his return.  I come to you Gararion as you skills seem to be growing and I wish to help them."

"I am honored sir.  Does this mean that I no longer will have the privaldge of teaching the students?"

"If you wish you can continue but when I am in the need of your services I will demand your full attention.  Is that understood?"

"Yes sir, I understand fully as when ones mind is distrated it leads him astray from his purose."

"I am glad that you agree to these terms.  I am sure that my need for you will be small as these times are quite calm but who knows what lies in the future."

"Yes sir."

As they finished their conversation the Archmagi had left him in a slow pace toward the door.  Gararion was quite pleased with the efforts that he had shown and the results that he obtained from them.  He had now only began to relize what he was capable of.

After many years teaching at Ximax and helping the Archmagi when his aide was needed Gararion was begining to have strange feelings that he had never had before.  Gararion felt a strange urge to leave his home within Ximax for a short time.  He felt a pull towards the outside
world, as if something wanted him to leave.  Not sure of this Gararion packed his stuff ready to leave.  He did not know how to announce his departure to the Archmagus of Ximax.  But like it had alwas been the the Archmagi of "The Tower of the Skies" came to him.  As if he knew what he was doing along.  Gararion felt the pwoer of the Archmagi coming closer.  He yerned that someday he would ave power like that of the Archmagi.

"Gararion I understand, there is no need for worry.  I alos have felt a strange presence about you, though I nor can the other Archmagi tell what it is.  I now that you are puzzled by this presence as I am also.  I understand that you must go out and see where this pressence takes you."

"You have felt it also...there is nothing that you can tell me that might help me in my journeys?"

"I am affraid that there isn't Gararion.  This pressence has brought great worries to the Archmagi of the Towers.  I can only ask you to folow this pressence and see what it desires.  I hope that some day you will return to Ximax and tell us about your journeys and your findings."

"I will....  But where do I go friend?  Do you have any word of knowedge that will hel me on my journeys.  This would be the first time I have truely left to explore Sorren.  Where should I start?"

"All that I can tell you is to follow the pressence from within yourself.  That shall be your compass.  Listen to it carefully Gararion."

"Farewell trusted friend.  I will return to Ximax with news of my findings when I find them...."

Gararion picked up the few belongings that he had and headed out on his own.  He left his home and Ximax both at the same time.  He only knew that he would follow the pressence in what ever direction it may take him.  Thus his journey began.

After the hundred years of study, learning and teaching, he finally set out again to see what the world had to offer.  Although he continually travels back to a keep that he had built for him near the Academy, to have the chance of learning more without being disturbed by fellow mortals.
During these trips he tells the Archmagi of what he has found out.  He yerns the day when his journey is complete and he is able to return to the side of the Archmagi in his study.

Gararion had set out.  He did not know where to go so he travelled southeast.  Not having any sort of direction form the pressence from within.  He continued to walk without stopping long within a city to meet anyone new or anything.  He waited for a sign or something that would help him in his cause.  He recieved what he thought to be his first sign within Santhala.

He had stopped within a Tavern to rest frm a long walk.  He had sat by the fire eating a warm bowl of soup when a man confranted him.

"Sir I noticed that you carry a staff that seems to burn with a blue fire.  Puzzeled by this I looked closer and it seems to not harm the wooden staff.  How can this be?"

"Magic has many possibilities..."

"So it is magical....does that mean you are a mage?"

"You assume correct."

"I have never seen a mage before.  It is a pleasure to have finally seen one and of one of such power I presume..."

"Power is only what one desires...strength is what one has."

"Correct you are....I have been looking for a man for my boss.  He is a wealthy person and wants to use of a powerfu.....strong person.  I wish to take you to meet him as he would be quite pleased with you I assure."

"I have no use of him nor do I have the need for wealth.  I am on my wn journey that must not be interupted."

All of a sudden Gararion saw a strange glow about the man.  It seemed that noone else within the Tavern had seen it nor did the man which this glow surronded.  Gararion puzzeled by this remembered what the Archmagi had said.  He decided that this was the doing of the pressence within himself wanting him to follow this man.

"I am sorry that I bothered you then sir.  I must be on my way then.  I need to find a man by night fall."

"Wait....I might need money afterall on my journeys.  I will go with you to this man and see what he has to offer."

"Change of mind I see.  Well meet me here at this table tommorrow morn and we will head out.  It is way to late to bother him tonight."

Gararion watched the man leave from the tavern.  He aksed the Tavern owner where he could get a room for the night.  He had said that he has a spare room that he would rent to the man.  Gararin gave the man the correct coin, 5 sans, and took his key.  He walked up the stairs to his room and placed the book that he carried under his cloak on the table beside the bed and placed the staff that he carried leaning against the same table.  The blue flame that burned on the staff
seemed to affect the wooden table at all.  Gararion laid in his bed wondering what the glow that he saw about the man meant.  Was it truely a sign from the pressence within himself or was it of some other means about the mysterious man.  He assumed that it was a sign from the pressence
as he had never seen anyone glow like that man had nor he had not sensed any magic about the man.  He lay in his bed for many hours thinking about this which he had finally grew tired from his travells and fell to sleep.

He awoke in the early morning ready to return the key and set out on his journeys once again when he remembered what had happened to him the following day.  He went down stairs and returned the key to the Tavern Keeper and ordered a breakfast.  He then sat at the same table with his breakfast and began to eat it waiting for the man from yesterday to come and meet him as he said he would the following day.

Then man had come as he said he would.  He came and waited for Gararion to finish his meal and then they left for where ever they were to go.....Gararion did not know as the man wished not to say anything further about what would take place that day.  They walked accross the town of
Santhala and stopped infront of a large estate.  It was the largest estate that he had ever seen.  It stood high over the rest of the city.  The man lead him past the gates guards, it seemed that they expected him or knew him for they offered no resistance to his enterance and only quickly opened the gates for his arrival.  The man lead Gararion to the front door of the estate and then whispered something to a servant who stood in front of it.  The servant handed him a small pouch and the man walked off after speaking to Gararion.

"This man will take the rest of they way.  I bid you fairwell."

Gararion puzzelled, his gaze following the man till he was out of site.  Then his gaze turned toward the servant who would take care of him as it seemed to be.

"Then shall we continue?"

"Yes we shall Lord."

Gararion followed the servant inside wondering why he had called him "Lord".  Was this estate so formal that everyone was called lord or was there a purpose behind this title.

The servant took Gararion deep within the estate and they eneded up stopping infront of two big wooden doors.The servant knocked on the doors and waited.

"Yes, you may come in."

A doors opened slowly as one of the many servants walked in.

"My Lord, the man who you asked for has arrived. Shall I let him in, my Lord."

"Yes let him in, I wish to speak to with him."

As the man walked in Delnar looked him over. Yes it seemed this was the man he had asked for, though he wished he would've been less suspicious. He wanted someone who could blend in with a crowd but that would be impossiable. That staff and book he carried stood out. It seemed to
burn with a blue fire. What was this he wondered. Delnar signaled the man to take a seat. The The figure walked infront of his desk and stood. He looked at the what the office had to offer. He then took his seat infront of the desk and sat waiting for the man who forced him to meet him.

"You are probably wondering why I insisted for you to meet me. You see, I am training a new group of men to run one of my trade routes for me. I want to make sure that this group has what it takes to handle the hardships of this life. This is here you come in my friend. You see, it isn't always that a trade route runs into trouble. There is a good chance that they might not come accross any troubles on their jorneys. This I don't want to happen, you see if they don't run into
trouble than how will I know if they can handle it. So to get to the point, I need you to tag along with the journey and if things seem to easy for them, then make some difficulties for them. I don't care how you do it, cost is not a problem. So will you do this for me. I will pay you as well."

Delnar waited for the mans answer.

Gararion straightened up in his chair and then leaned foward toward Delnar.

"So let me see here. You wish for me to make their journeys hard enough so that you can tell that they can handle all the hardships that they might face in the future. Well I don't see why this would be a problem...but there is this one thing...I won't do it.  I do not prefornm tasks for anyone unless there is something that I get in reurn that truely interests me, money is not something that can hold my attention."

"Than may I ask you what does interest you. I can offer you anything that may be of interest to you I assure you. Just name it and I will abide. I truely need your help, it will be hard to find a replacement on this short of time."

"What I need is to quench my thirst for knowledge. And this is not just any ordinary knowledge, for it is a thirst for magical knowledge. This is the only thing that matters to me. If you can quench my thirst during the time that I spend here doing your bidings then I will be interested in helping you with your task."

"Well let me see here. This is a something new. Usually someone asks for money, property or power but you ask for knowledge. Or are you asking for power my friend. Do you hope to gain more power in the magical arts than most. Is this what you..."

"MY INTENTIONS ARE NOT YOUR BUSINESS HUMAN!!! I do not need to explain myself to a human who cannot comprehend the paths that I have taken. If you wish my services then don't ever challenge me again. Though you might be able to sway the public with the snap of your fingers you cannot control my own actions. I do not need to listen to this."

"Woa my companion, I did not mean to challenge you. I simply wanted to understand what you wanted from me. It is not my intentions to challenge you, for I know that I have no control over the likes of you like I have over most people that I meet.

But lets leave this touchy topic alone. Well let me see, maybe I can interest you. My family has kept a fairly large libary of ancient tome and other books. I will get my servant here to take you to it and let you search the libary to see if anything interests you. I don't have a clue what is in that libary for I haven't the taste for reading. But maybe you can find something that will interest you."

"Did you say ancient. We will see what I can find here. Maybe I can find something that may quench my thirst for the duration of the quest."

"Hopefully you can, for I will be greatful for your services. Kevin, please take this man to the Keeps Libary. Let him be alone for he is our guest and I want him to be comfortable. Stay outside the door and serve him in what ever way he desires."

Gararion began his search of the libary for many hours.  Gararion continued his search within the library of te keep. He had not seen anything that interested him to much that would make him sign on to such a quest. It was turning out not to be worth while endeavure for himself.

The door to the library opened as the servant in which Delnar whispered to earlier came through.

"My Lord...."

"Yes what is it?"

"....Lord Delnar has asked me to tell you that dinner has been served. He has asked if you will join them Lord."

"Join them? Why I see nothing worth staying here for as my search for anything useful has failed. Why should I stay for a dinner. I must be on my way."

"My Lord?"

Gararion looked about the large library once again. Indeed there was a large collection on texts, but still nothing of use to him.

"Show me the door!"

Just as he turned his head to the direction of the door out of the library his eye caught something. It was area where the light of the library seemed not to reach. He looked in the direction of this this area cloaked in dakness. His eyes strained to see if he could see through the darkness. He
walked closer to the darkness. Even though he was closer he still couldn't see through the darkness. He walked right into the darkness disapeared from sight of the servant. The sevant had never seen this darkness before. It seemed to have just came from out of no where.

"My Lord.......Lord...."

Gararion was now within the darkness. He still couldn't see anything. He began to feel around within the darkness. After a while of walking within this darkness that seemed not to end he reached something that felt like a wall. He slid his hands up and down the surface of this wall. He felt something protruding from the wall. It felt like a door nob. He placed his hand around the handle and tried to turn it. With a little effort it turned and Gararion pushed the door open.

There was a light within but it seemed not to have broken the darkness as he turned around and only saw the same never ending darkness that he had travelled through. He had never seen such a thing. What could this be. This was a true darkness, one that he thought would not have been possible. He had only one choice for his thirst for knowledge got the better of him.

He walked within the light and was hit with a even brighter more powerful light. This light hit him with a powerful force which blinded him. He could feel the energy of the bright light but all he could see was the deep darkness that he just came out of. But he could sense that he wasn't alone. There were other being, being more powerful than he was. Beings with a greater knowledge that he had. He could not tell how many there was but only that they were there. He looked about rubbing his eyes trying to get his vision back.

"There is no use in trying to recover your vision for we have taken it to protect you...." spoke a deep magical voice.

Gararion turned around quickly trying to see the figure that the voice came from.

"Who are you!?"

"In time Gararion.....for now other matters are of importance..."[/i]

Gararion turned around again as the voice had became even deeper voice spoke to him from another location.

"Why have you taken my sight? What are protecting me from!?"

A new came from another direction. This voice was a female voice.
"This is not the time for question Gararion....please listen to what we have to say...."

"I will..."

"We will visit you often...you will recognize us as the same darkness as before...only you will be able to enter this place as it is a place conjured from your mind..."

A new voice spoke. This one had a voice that seemed to sense that he was the oldest amoung them.

"...a great evil will soon rise from the forgotten past...this evil must be stopped...but alone you will not be able to stop this evil........you will have to complete journey that will take you to places that you have never been to....we will offer our help as we see fit....but mans future rests on the hands of you Gararion......we will return soon to complete your knowledge for this is only a preperation for the future that you have been destined to complete.....fairwell..."

"Wait!!!! What is this evil that you speak of? I need to know more!!!!"

But as he said this he felt the power of the light slowly vanish. As it vanished his site returned. He was no longer within the darkness but once again within the library. He was facing a

"My Lord? May I ask what happened?"

"Take me to Delnar......"

"Yes My Lord..."

The servant lead Gararion to Delnar and and Gararion entered the dinning hall.  Still shooken by what had happened he sat down in a chair and remainedmotionless.  Delnar asked him what was wrong but Gararion did not answer him.  He waited for a moment then stood and left the Dinning hall withut eating or drinking anything.

Delnar ascussed himself from the table leaving the others to themselves for a short time.  He went after Gararion.  After a while searching for him he found him on the topmost floor standing by a window looking out it still motionless.

He asked if he had had his services.  Gararion sure that this was one of the largests signs that he had ever recieved told Delnar that he had earned his services for this one quest.  After that he must be on his way.  Delnar agreed hoping that he could presay him after to stay longer.  Delnar then returned to the dinning hall and left Gararion there staring out toward the window. Unknown to Delanr he was staring out in the Direction of Ximax.  He wanted to go back to Ximax and tell the Archmagi what had happened but felt it was more important to follow this pressence to see what else he could find out.

The stuff in between the line two lines that follow, is just a rough outline of things as things within stories still need to brought out and I wish not to bring them out at the moment.
Thus it will be a little empty but as the stories progress the CD will be expanded.

Much happened during this voyage (to be mentioned after the story has been completed or the stuff has taken place).  After the quest Gararion returned to Ximax and told the all Archmagi of the great towers of what had happened.  Worried about the near future they thought it would
be best if they could prepare him in some way to protect the future of Sorren.  They would have decided to do this themselves but it seemed that this pressence had picked Gararion to carry out this quest.  Thus they thought of some way that they could protect and prepare the mage for what
would lay ahead of him.  They thought together for days and finally came to the decision that they must raise his magical powers faster than they themselves could do by just mere teaching him.  The Archmagiof "The Tower of the Skies" came to his apprentice to bring him the news of their decision.

"Gararion we have come to a decision.  As this pressence has seemed to pick you as its gateway and protector we see it fit to let it remain so.  But we feel it is our job to portect and
prepare you in any way we can do so.  Thus we have come to the decision to bring you withing the Tear of Avá, the Uarná'ésh-dél or what ever you wish to call it as I like to call it simply the Uarná'ésh-dél.  We will allow you only a short time within the Uarná'ésh-dél to allow your powers to grow.  
Although your powers will grow you will still need to learn how to harness them correctly.  Thus we ask to travel to Aeruillin to meet the Archmagi there, who we hope will help you as well in your control of these new powers as well in providing any knowledge that he can to help you on your quest."

Gararion agreed to these terms and went along with the ritual of the Archmagi.  After the ritual had compeleted Gararion could sense the great power that he was given.  Though still not as great as the Archmagi of Ximax but greater than any he had ever felt within himself.  Bidding his fairwells to the Archmagi of Ximax he once again set out south, toward Aeruillin to meet the Archmagi there.

He had traveled for days wondering the the lands of Sorren.  He had not had another signs since the last one during his time serving for Delnar.  He wondered if he was going in the right direction.

He was heading toward Strata to board a ship to Areuillin but stopped off at a Tavern just outside of Strata.  Within this Tavern his story begins......

Other Historic Stuff

Through out his life Gararion has the misfortune of getting in a few fights in his early years of his magic studies. Unable to cast the powerful spells that are needed to help defend him as he can now cast, he has had the misfortune of a few scars here and there. One of these scars that are most noticeable is a scar across his neck. He received this scar while he was in a Tavern with his wife Sara. While drinking a few cups a fine wine celebrating their twenty-fifth anniversary a stranger entered the Tavern in rampage manner. Gararion wanting the stranger to quite down asked him to please take a seat and settle down. Before he knew it the stranger had a small
dagger across his neck applying increasing pressure with the sharp edge of the blade. With blood drizzling from the open wound the blade inflicted, Gararion only could stand there and watch the look of terror that Sara had as she watch the pain that her husband was going through. A friend of Sara's saw what was going on and came over to interfere. He grabbed the dagger out of the hand of the stranger's and tossed him out of the Tavern. The friend followed the stranger outside and
after a few minutes came back in with a grin on his face. Helping Gararion walk to the towns healer the stranger left to go home after making sure Sara was alright and ensuring her that Gararion would be alright. He told her that he has seen Elves recover from worse wounds than the one Gararion had suffered. Nevertheless, Gararion did recover quickly but retained a scar that ran at least 5 inches across his neck.

Another of these scars that Gararion has in a missing ear. Before he met his wife and was traveling, he traveled through a forest; he cannot remember the name of the forest for he does not want to remember the pain that he suffered during his stay. While venturing through the forest strange creatures attacked him by surprise and held him captive. While he was held captive, his torturers tortured him while seeming to remain in darkness. Hours and hours of pain upon pain
did the elf endure before they finally freed him. However, before freeing the elf they cut the left ear off as kept it as a trophy. The elf now hides this deformity from others as he position hi hair in such a way that it seems that he still has he ear. He has only shown this to his wife Sara as he
tries to avoid conflict that may result in the discovery of his missing ear.

The one thing that makes Gararion stand out from a crowd is his Staff and Spell Book. They both seem to burn with a strange Blue Fire that does no harm to the Book or Staff, nor any other things that has not done any harm to Gararion himself as long as he is in the area. This fire prevents anyone other than Gararion to touch them for it inflicts a burning feeling deep within the body that only Gararion can heal. Gararion being a peaceful person often relieves this pain from
it victims under the condition that they be careful around his stuff. Anyway he cannot be bothered by someone continually bothering him to remove the pain, he hates the attention. The
story of how Gararion acquired these items begins before he entered the Academy. A human traveling through the Quallian Forest found himself lost within the forest. Gararion was out on a stroll when he met the Human. The human had been lost for several days now and was desperate to get out of the forest. Gararion asking no questions lead him out of the forest. The human vowed that sometime in the future he would pay the Elf back in some manner. While studying at
Ximax, Gararion once again met the human. Although Gararion cold not remember where he met this strange man before, the man insisted that he would do something for what he had done before in the forest. Not sure what to expect Gararion agreed to his terms but did not know what the human could do for him. The man insisted in testing his magic on the Elf's personal belongings. He said that this magic that he would imbue in his Spell Book and Staff would
protect them from theft. Thus Gararion received his enchanted items.


Remembering his past life will often send many into a moment of reflect. However, of Gararion case this will often make him lose some of his great concentration and will power. However, if someone mention his the name of his wife, Sara, he will lose all of his will power and concentration for a long period, an hour to be precise. During this period, he will try to retreat from the situation and recover from the bad memories.

From years of training though, he has learned to avoid any sort of emotion for he feels that emotion is the weakness of ones soul. So forth it is almost impossible for anyone to bring any sort of emotion to this man's face or being in matter of fact.

Although he can talk to people once in awhile he does not enjoy long conversations for they take to much time from his studies. On top of that, he does not want to let any bit of information pass that will effect him the future.

Gararion has a hard time hearing from the left ear when it comes to direct noise.  He can hear the quite noises from nature but cannot hear someone when he whispers or speaks into the left ear itself.


His control of his own will is his greatest accomplishment in his eyes. He has trained years to master his own will. With only a few and rare moments that he loses this control he is known around the world for his control.

He has learned how to keep his past secret from others quite well. For if he didn't he might be weakened to such a degree that he might as well stay indoors for the rest of his life for the fear of what will happen.

He has the ability to learn things very quickly and with great results. The intensity he puts forth in learning something helps him in this area. While learning something he only takes time off to eat and sleep though he gets very little of either. After learning the desired thing, that was the
object of his study, he will have to spend a few days to help restore his health to its original state for he suffers from lack of sleep and lack of nutrition.


- Staff
-Spell Book
-Spell Pouch - containing needed reagents for casting spell and the such.
-Small Carry Pouch - containing a few healing potion and herbs.
-Leather Water Bottle
-Clothing from Ximax
-plain black cloak
-Shaint’s Ring
-piece of map given to him by Shaint

World Siggy Federation Champion
~If I Have Helped You In Any Way Please Visit This Site To Show Your Thanxs To Me~
~I offer you a Cup of Joy~

Edited by: Gararion  at: 12/2/02 6:15:59 pm

Lucirina Telor Vevan
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« Reply #2 on: November 15, 2002, 05:33:22 AM »

Name: Lucirina Telór Veván
Sex: Female
Age: 125 years
Race: Wood elf
Born under the constellation of: The dove
Weapons: Long bladed dagger
Inventory: a silver flute, a magi potion pouch with several medicinal herbs. A thin silver chain hangs around her neck, the talisman is formed into the elven symbol "Change".
Wished title: Bard
Tribe: The Injerín
Home town: Lyeil'soula

Lucirina is a young wood elf, only 125 years old. Standing 1 ped 2 fore high. Long chestnut hair with small purple strands hangs down to her waist as green eyes sparkle joyfully at anyone that she looks at. She is wearing a red dress with silver weaving on the sides, at the waist and at the sleeves that are long and baggy. From a woven belt at her waist hangs what looks like a magi potion pouch, a long bladed dagger and a silver flute.

As most bards Lucirina is a light at heart and joyful.
As an elf she has a insight that most humans don’t gain in a life time.
Talkative and friendly she may seem naive, but under the surface lies the heart of a philosopher.

Born in the city of Lyeil'soula Lucirina learned the art of music since she was very young.
Lucirina grew up in a loving family, her father Saylon Krói Telór and her mother Yurie Ór Vevan always encouraged her to study the art of music and poetry.
An art the young Lucirina embraced with all her heart.
Soon she was recognized to be one of the most talented bards in her hometown.
At very young age Lucirina found herself in the forest as she saw something the caught her attention, a young man with blood red hair was sitting on a fallen tree whistling terribly out of tune. Being the musical creature that she is she approached him slowly wanting to correct his tuning.
After some days of meeting him in the forest she came to know his name, Anathus. Soon enough the heart of Lucirina hold more that just friendly feelings toward the young human
Unfortunately for Lucirina, Anathus was a well know thief and he ended his day as most thieves do, hanging by his neck from a tree.
When Lucirina saw her new found love hanging dead from a tree, something inside her snapped, blocking off her ability to love.
Leaving her home and parents she wandered of, trying to find a reason to write songs and sing again.
Many a years she wandered the celeste lowlands, reaching the crystal lake and the land of the Hovel Frond forests where she stayed living as a hermit for several years.
Soon the wanderlust invaded her again and she left the safety of the forest to once more move south, as far away from her birthlands as possible. Crossing the mountains trough the Dragon's maw and wandering the Talandra highlands she finally arived to Nymersys where she lived as a beggar for a few months before she started wandering once more until she reached the Thaelon forest where she stayed only for a few weeks before once more feeling the need for puting as much space between her and her home lands.
Wandering as far as the port city of Naios she decided that she wanted to know the sea a bit more, having already fallen in love with the rolling waves. With what little money she had left she managed to get a fare ticket to Thalambath.
Reaching the port city she started wandering once more. Exploring the desert, that she had never seen the likes of before she reached the city of Strata, she tried performing on the streets but was thrown out by the city guards.
Not knowing where to go next she headed north for the city and found the tavnern known as "The Thirsty Herald", and there she is now staying, slowly discovering once more what it means to love, and again finding her songs.

Good in close combat and dagger fights
Very good dexterity, fast and agile.
Good endurance
An agile mind and fine imagination gets her out of most dangerous situations.
A very good liar when faced with a dumb opponent.

Not too strong.
Tend to be very selfcompassionate.
Like to drink, specially R'unorian Brandy.

Nunquam Credere Hospes Orc Cum Donum

From sunrise to sundown I live my life as a song.
Listen to the songbird, don't ignore it.

Bobbo the Beggar
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« Reply #3 on: November 15, 2002, 12:27:22 PM »

Here is the original description for Bobbo the Beggar

Name: Robert Junakin (aka: Bobbo the Beggar)
Race: Human
Age: 24
Height: 1.8 peds
Weight: 108 lbs.
Occupation: None

Appearance: A dark brown leather tunic and a battered iron helmet mark Bobbo the Beggar. He has black, greasy hair which sticks to his forehead. His dark, brown eyes go well with his slightly tanned skin. The man always wears an expression of sorrow. Looking where his left arm once was, you would guess why.

Personality: Unless he is begging, he hardly speaks. He will, on occasion, speak up when danger strikes. He is not quick to fight, but when he does, he shows clearly that he was once a soldier. The man will find the darkest corner in a tavern or inn.

History: Ever since he was a child, Bobbo has lived in poverty. His hometown is Strata. His father was killed before he was born, and his mother was killed shortly after he was born. His parents were starting a revolution that no one knows about because elves hired secretly by the Strata government exterminated Bobbo's parents. Bobbo was with his mother only for a little while.

His mother knew that she could not support Bobbo and was heading to The Thirsty Herald to ask the barkeep to raise the boy. However, while she was walking through the streets, she was spotted by the group of elves seaching for her. She tried to escape, but she was shot dead by the elf. As she died, she gently lay Bobbo on the street.

After his mother's death, Bobbo was adopted by a thief who raised Bobbo in his trade. The thief found the baby lying on the ground and was filled with sympathy, and he took the child as his own. Bobbo was, however, a pathetic thief, whatever the thief might teach him. The thief, whose name had been Juan, gave the boy whatever he could steal from the shops.

When Bobbo was 15, the thief was caught by the government of Strata. The night of Juan's capture, Bobbo went to the prison and asked for Juan to be released. The law enforcement said that he needed to pay a high price for Juan's release. Bobbo, of course, could not come up with that, so he was left alone with no sustainer. Since Bobbo was a horrid thief, he resorted to begging on the streets to get enough coppers for his evening meal. This did not work often and he was usually slapped across the face.

After a time, the Strata government drafted Bobbo into the military because he was only annoying people on the streets. After a long training course and a period of harsh leadership, Bobbo was released from the military, a trained killer. He did not, however, use his newfound ability and went right back to begging. His return made the citizens even more angry.

The Strata government got angry because people were complaining about his begging and were plotting to rid the city of him (aka killing him). The Strata government banished him for his safety. The reason they cared so much was that he had been in the military. He has wandered the world ever since.

On his adventures, he has been close to death many times. Once in a while, a rich man would become so angry when Bobbo started to beg for coppers, that he would lock the man up. Now, you probably wouldn't do such a thing, but Bobbo refused the answer, "NO!" Of course, Bobbo was released the next morning.

Bobbo once fell into a trap that a hunter had set up. He tried to get out, but the strings that could have kept a deer from escaping bit into his body, especially on his left arm. When the hunter finally found him, his left arm was blue and he had fainted from loss of blood. The hunter immediately took Bobbo to the nearest doctor, where his useless arm was amputated. Bobbo has gone about since then with one arm.
His lost arm has made Bobbo hate himself even more.

Possessions: Bobbo only owns the clothes on his back, an old rusty sword, and a small golden that holds some setimental value to him. He refuses to sell it, however poor he may be.

Bobbo has very low self-confidence, self-concept, and self-esteem. He has yet to discover his purpose in life. Perhaps in future adventures he shall discover himself.

"I travel from north to south and from east to west and back again searching for my purpose in life. I cannot find it." Bobbo the Beggar

Atrii Redwood
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« Reply #4 on: November 15, 2002, 10:51:22 PM »

Name: Atrii Redwood(A-tree Redwood)

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Class: Ranger

Height: 1.9 Peds

Appearance: Atrii is a smaller human with less strength, his hair is long and black with tangles throughout, his eyes are a deep dark blue. He is also a slender human, at first glance many consider Atrii to be a child and take him for granted on the battlefield until they fall to the ground after one of his critical blows. He wears green clothes which blend in with his surroundings, he also wears an over coat with a hood covering his entire body only leaving room for him to see in front of him.

Personality: Atrii is very polite to all strangers but dislikes people who bother in his affairs, he prefers to remain alone. During his visits to taverns he usually remains in a corner of the tavern away from others. In the rare event that he is joined by another person he will risk everything to keep his companion out of harms way even if it requires him throwing himself into danger.

History: Atrii was born in a small village outside of the city of Caelum (the capital of the Kyrannian Kingdom). His father( Ejeh Redwood) taught him how to keep hidden and unnoticed in the wild. Ejeh was also a ranger, he taught Atrii how to use a sword. The skill came naturally to him and was able to out duel his father in training sessions by the age of 15. After he had mastered the sword he began training to use a bow, he also learned the skills quickly but never was able to become an expert.

His mother was a jeweler she brought in most of the families income, when his father was out in the wild she would always tell Atrii that his father was wasting his time and that the real way to live a life was by selling goods. His mother taught Atrii how to notice all of the fine marks on her jewels that she sold, this helped develop a very sensitive eye for Atrii which allowed him to notice even the slightest disturbance on trails in the forest. Even though his mother disliked the idea of Atrii venturing into the wild she helped him develop some very needy skills.

At the age of 11 a small band of goblins raided his village and burned many homes, as the goblins approached his home with torches Atrii and his father took up their swords and charged in, they began fighting off the goblins, the other citizens who were worried about their own homes say the two bravely fighting, soon the whole village joined in helping ward off the goblins. Atrii and Ejeh received medals from the village and were pronounced heros.

When he was 19 his father and him left Caelum and ventured into the Shivering wood, a local farmer reported that some wolves were killing his cows and other livestock, he offered to pay them a hefty sum if they returned with the wolves heads. Even though Ejeh and Atrii disliked killing wild creatures the farming season had been a dissapointment and every farm was essential to there survival, so the two accepted and ventured into the wood. The two rangers found the pack of wolves and slaughtered them with a very heavy resistance, when Atrii returned home his mother had a fit, he was covered in bruises and cuts, including a large gash across his left heel leaving a deep scar.

Finally when Atrii reached the age of 22 he left his home giving his family a final good-bye but before he left his father gave him his treasured Mithril Armour, he returned as often as he could but was often drawn away by the fascination of nature. He travelled for three years reaching the age of 25. In those three years he travelled as far as Bolder where he met the fabulous home of an elven tribe, there the elves taught him some vital information on using a bow and has improved in his archery skills. Also during his stay with the elves they taught him how to mix herbs and spices into a healing tonic, and also a tonic specially designed to cure wounds infected with poison.

-Always mindful of the battlefield around him, considering all different possible actions
-An expert with a sword and not too shabby with a bow
-Atrii is a very gifted ranger, he is able to be completely silent while trekking through forests
-He can use herbs and spices from the forest to create two healing tonics(normal wounds, poison)

-If he ever is hit in his left heel his left leg becomes weak because of the gash against a fight against a wolf pack
-Is always too trusting of people, his father once told him that one day someone will get the better of him and get him when he doesn't expect it

- Long bow
- Long Sword
- Mithril Armour
- Elven Dagger(tucked into his boot)
- Leather Gloves
- Leather Boots  

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« Reply #5 on: November 20, 2002, 06:24:22 AM »

OOC-Heck its been so long sence i posted shaints biography i wont even try and find it :p

Shaint Terenal Urowyn-

Age- 100(funny ho whe's the youngest yet leds eh? lol)
height:2 peds(6 feet i believe 6'1 to be precise)
Hair:dark(dark)brown short(eh an inch give or take a few centimeters)
eyes:Mysterious blue/green

Race- Elven

Occupation- Group leader of the shipment
Weapons- Enchanted wind sword hidden throwing knives

Clothing-:a black velvet looking shirt that widens slightly downward to the wrists and a pair of leather pants with slight plates on the shins and sometimes a cape,

But it depends on where he is going his outfit will probably change when they leave

He who lives by the sword Lives with Pain Anger and Sorrow
But he who lives by the sword lives not with regret for he who lives by the sword lives with Redemtion

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« Reply #6 on: November 21, 2002, 11:56:22 AM »

Name: Radaroc

Race: Forest Troll

Age: 22

Requested Title: Wanderer (Male, Forest Troll)

- Eyes: green of the forest after a hard storm
- Hair: Red as the fires of hell, tied into many braids draping to his shoulders no facial hair
- Skin: brown, the bark of an elm
- Markings: Death's Head(Jolly Roger) Black outline tattoo on the palm of his right hand.
- Clothing: An open dark green vest, loose, rough brown pants, grandsword and scarab strapped across his back horizontally
-Height & Weight: 3.29 peds & 2.97 pygges
Personality: A fiery temper when enraged but for the most part calm, quiet, analytic and slightly pessimistic. He fears for his clan at the base of the Warnaka Mountains as they are constantly harassed by the elves living nearby, so he has a dislike for elves until they have proven themselves worthy of his trust.

Magic - He has latent Eyashene abilities (they're very weak) and can communicate his emotions to non-sentient creatures (like Derm)

The ancient Troll shaman sits down before the young ones and takes a deep breath and begins.
"Long ago a young male was born of our Clan. Today you all know of him as Radaroc, Bodyguard of Lightning but then he was simply Radaroc son of Seeress Haily and Earthdeath. He was born during a starshower in deepest winter and great things were expected of him. These hopes were dashed against the stones of fate when an elven raid on our camp 3 years after he was born. The hunters/huntresses where stalking an ogre that had been wandering a bit to close to the camp. It was noon when the elves came upon the tent village. Women, aged, crippled and all the children were all there was to defend it some of the old warriors were able to take two or three down but they were soon cut down in a flurry of arrows. Their valiant last stand gave a few of our people a chance to flee but Haily was stabbed in the back by a quick footed elven ranger. The young Radaroc fell from her arms and was struck unconscious by the the ranger. Just as the elf was about to strike his final blow a young elven sorceress stayed his arm in pity of the young troll, picked him up and walked away from the slaughter that befell what innocents were left.
15 years later,
Radaroc had now lived with the elves for 15 years feared, hated, or considered nothing but the pet of the Sorceress who had taken him in. In all his long years in the elven town he had never called his adopted mother anything more familiar than (the) Sorceress or milady. Radaroc knew that he was different but he didn't understand why. The Sorceress had thought it a wonderful experiment to see if the young troll could work any elven magic and had trained him hard but his large clawed hands could never move to the subtle motions of magice all he was able to do wer0e the slight of hand  "parlor tricks". At one point when casting a magic diagnostic spell the Sorceress noticed that Radaroc had some innate magic ability and brought our his ability to "understand" the many creatures of Sorren. During this training the Sorceress brought a Inca Tati Shapeshifter to the house in order to see if the ability worked on magical creatures as well...it did. Radaroc befriended the Inca Tati Shapeshifter and named him Derm. Now aided with some magical ability he was to begin his study in weapons. The Sorceress found a old ranger willing train the young troll he studied the use of many weapons but only found him self proficient in pole arms, Herlemins , and the gigantic Flamberge considered unwieldily and "barbaric" by most of the elves. Things in life looked up for him he had a new friend but after a long day training with the weapons master he arrived late but as he opened the door to his house he heard the Sorceress speaking with one of the town elders.
"Do you think we can trust him," questioned the town elder, "sending him back as a spy, he's so young and he might just simply wander away and we'll never be able to dispose of those wretched trolls."
"I have already thought of that and soon his mind will be strong enough that I can bespell him to do our biding. I would have done it sooner but his mind would have been to weak and be crushed by the psychic force." replied the Sorceress in a tense tone, not liking her skills being questioned.
"Well do it quickly the people of this town dislike a troll being taught in the ways of weapons and magic." said the old elf as he walked out the door.
Having heard all this Radaroc was greatly distressed but was still able to dive into the nearby bushes before the ancient elf walked out the door. Quickly Radaroc jumped out of the shubry and leaped through his bedroom window grabbed a few things before taking off: a belt dagger, a heavy cloak that could be propped up with a few sticks to make a tent, and Derm. Once outside he had Derm become a tall, jet black stallion he rode over the weapons masters training hall grabbed a Herlemin with one blade on each end and 3 spikes opposing them and one enchanted flamberge that would always stay sharp and never rust. With that he rode off into the night to flee from the treacherous elves."
Noticing that some of the young ones were falling asleep the old shaman states, "Everyonce in a while he visits his this village and brings us news of other tribes and the outside world he is still haunted by the Sorceress who chases after him to bring him to "justice"." Just then Radaroc walks in, "Are you still telling them that old story father?" he says with a wry grin.
"Oh, yes." says Earthdeath as he struggles to rise,"help and old troll you ignorant sprout."
Radaroc helps his father into an old oak chair. "Come on Derm," he says to the blue-grey cloud floating just outside the tent, "its time to go." Derm once again transforms into the great stallion (the only beast Radaroc could ever find that would fit him). And rides off not to be seen in the camp for many years.

- As all trolls are he cannot stand being close to fire, but after a few years living in the wide world he can live with a fireplace but, only if its on the far side of the room.
- He is slow to trust people without proof of their intentions but sometimes in the heat of the moment such as battle this can be forgotten
- When facing small opponents he has a hard time moving at the quick speed usually needed to defend against these types of opponents.
- Nobody likes trolls, lots of people try to kill him

- Great physical strength allows him to wield large weapons with relative ease
- Connection to nature allowing him a feel for the eviroment (near evil creatures and the like)
- Great reach in battle because of his height and wears little armor because of his thick troll hide.
- Natural regenerative abilities

- Flamberge (and scaberd) with simple enchantment to prevent it from dulling or rusting
- Steel Gauntlets with a falling meteor carved into the tops.
- Large Cloak that can be used to make a tent.

Animals: Inca Tati Shapeshifter: Derm - tamed inca tati shapeshifter he uses him as a companion on the lonely road and as efficient fighter changing into forms such as bears and wolves to fight with Radaroc.  

In the begining I was weak.  Now I have purpose stay me from my path and the Gods themselves cannot save you

Edited by: Radaroc at: 11/22/02 5:03:56 am
Grakan Ironhammer
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« Reply #7 on: December 03, 2002, 07:52:22 AM »

Name: Grakan Ironhammer
Race: Dwarf
Age: 130
Gender: Male
Height: 1.4 peds
Weight: 420 pounds
Occupation: Self proclaimed doom-seeker.

Grakan is a strange "Doom Seeker". They wander the land searching for the largest monster that they can find and slay it in combat, if they lose, well they count that as an honourable death, which they are ultimately seeking to find.

Grakan is ultimately very grumpy, and considers himself better than most others. He does however bear strong friendships with anyone who might happen to get acquainted with him. He will always take up a challenge, unless pursuaded otherwise but will be very reluctant to, even in extreme circumstances.

Grakan wears very little, just a pair of trousers and boots. His upper body is heavily tattooed with various sysmbols etc. His face has various piercings, most noticable is a chain which run from his right ear to his right nostril.

Will almost never pass up on a fight. He has the typical dwarven animosity towards elves.

Grakan has very ltitle in the way of inventory, he has a pouch on his belt which hold up his trousers, which contains his hard earned money, and a very large 2-handed ax.


Grakan Ironhammer was a tunnel fighter in a dwarven mine, after a very boring childhood, with his parents Harkon and Tomli. He protected mines from roaming goblins and other underworld creatures.
He only has the following memories of that day.
"Grotek," Grakan Ironhammer barked, "get your idle backside over here. You too Grimli." he added.
"What?" Grotek grumbled, trudging over, his axe gleaming in the light of the lantern that Grimli, armed with a hammer held up, lighting the narrow passageway of the mine.
"Smell that..." Grakan smiled, revealing several false gold teeth, "Grobi."
"Goblins?" Grimli asked frowning, "In this part of the mine? Are you sure?"
"Grimli, you may be part of a great dwarven caln, but you don't have the sense for this sort of thing." Grakan smiled warmly. He had taken Grimli on only two weeks ago, and Grakan was going to make sure he kept safe. Grotek was his younger brother, but he had a temper that far surpassed Grakan's.
"You're only a young dwarf, and you will learn these things in time." He added kindly.

The three of them set off down the passage, weapons ready, lanterns held high, trudging off to find the scum that plaged the mine.

They arrived at a forkand Grakan shined the lantern down both forks, listening and sniffing intently.
"Can't remember this part of the mine," Grotek commented. "Looks new."
"Shhh!" Grakan hissed, then after a moment pointed his axe down the right passage. "Right this way." He said boldly.
"I think there's something..." Grimli started pointing to the left, but Grakan had started off down the right hand corridor.

They plodded on for twenty minutes or so when they came to another fork.

"Isn't this..." Grimli started looking at Grakan.
"...The one we've just come from!" Grakan finished for him. "Yeah it is!" Grakan sounde panicked, they had left the miners ungaurded.

"COME ON!!" Grotek shouted, starting to run down the corridor.
Grakan looked at Grimli then they both followed Grotek.

After what seemed like an age of running they reached the main chamber where the miners had been working.
It was now full of orcs, with several ogres shambling around.
"By the beard!" Grimli whispered.
"Purge our mine of the greenskin filth!" Grakan yelled charging into the fray, several orcs still fighting miners, the rest pillaging what valables the miners had on them.
The first two orcs were hacked in two by Grakan's gleaming double-headed, double handed axe. Grotek was faring well too, several foraging orcs falling to his weapon. Grimli was fighting clumsily though. The orcs were blocking some of his powerful blows. He didn't see the ogre thundering up behind him though.
"GRIMLI!!" Grakan called, trying to hack a path through to his apprentice. "BEHIND YOU!"
Grimli turned and froze in fear, in face of the huge creature.
" GRIMLI!!!!" Grakan bawled frantically trying to reach the young dwarf.
The monster roared and tore Grimli in two.
"NOOOOOO!! GRIMLI!!" Grakan bawled hewing a path of green bodies to reach the body. He had lost site of Grotek ages ago, but he could take care of himself.
Grakan reached the ogre that had butchered his friend minutes before and swung at it in rage. The huge thing dodged with a quickness that shouldn't have been possible for its size, and instead of cleaving it in two he just cut a huge gash down the creatures chest.
In fury the beast struck back with a ham-sized fist, Grakan blocked the blow with the head of the axe, the force of teh punch causing the axe to sever it clean from the ogres arm.

The ogre looked at it's stib stupidly which gave Grakan chance to lop its head clean off.
Looking around the room he saw Grotek battling over a dozen orcs. His axe flying left and right, Grotek fightin, laughing...falling....
Grakan looked at the remaining orcs and could see nothing but red, not blood, just anger coursing through his veins like adreneline.

Two Hours Later

Grakan stood by the enterence to the mine, now blocked up. He had slaughtered the remaining greenskins and then cleared the mine of their greenskinned fiith.
Then using explosives brought for mining, he sealed up the mine as a tomb for the honourable dwarves that had died that day.
He was racked with grief, he should have listend to Grimli, they were all dead because of him...

After this event Grakan made a runesmith forge several runes onto his immense axe to make it unbreakable; had all the scars from that battle tatooed over in balck. He also had his hair crested into a large mohican and keeps it solid using various animal fats, and blood of creatures he has killed.
He now wnaders around killing evil creatures, dreaming of dying gloriously in battle against the largest creature he can find, and joining his fellow Dwarves, who died that day.

"There is nothing so sure in the world as the glimmer of gold.

And the treachery of elves."

---Ancient Dwarven Saying

Visit the The World of Klinorth

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« Reply #8 on: December 04, 2002, 07:27:22 AM »

Species: Ogre with a Bit of orc blood

Occupation: Mercenary

Age: 36 Human years

Strengths: He wears heavy armour that protects him from almost anything and uses a mixture of axes and throwing axes.
Weaknesses: His amazingly strong armour has only one flaw when it was made the creator didn't have enough of the metal used to make it so strong so there is a large hollow part in the chest and a small gap on the back off each knee and under his chin on his throat so he hunches over to cover up these areas but sometimes can lose his guard on those areas in the thick of fighting

Inventory: His armour which has the word elex written on it in rare crystals and no one knows what it means protects him from all heavy blows and light blows yet single well aimed blows can stun him leaving his weak spots open also as it has small gaps in it lets in some "flooding" Magic e.g.. Water. Being covered in flame, a set of Orc axes, a bone handled sword and a bag of gold.

Appearance: Gandoria has a dark green face and light green skin, big hands with pointed nails he wears a black cloak, which hangs over his head and hides his face as well as his Armour.

Personality: He is very cheerful around friends and is very loyal. But he is violent towards enemies and enemies of friends or people offending him.

Other Details: He will work for whatever seems to be right in his mind.

History: He Never speaks of his history and he appeared recently but many black orcs have all come and gone each with a different name but leaving just before the next and leaving after getting in over debt or having a gang after them
There is not much history around all these characters but all that is known is that half of them had a S scolded on their chest and the rest were never seen much, from the beginning Gandoria.. Being one off the largest orcs was seen as a threat by the leaders and at a young age made a slave (thus the S on his chest) The orc grew up and eventually became more and more brutal so as they sent him to grittier. Dirtier harder jobs eventually started to rebel, him and a band off orcs broke off from the tribe and each went separate ways, the tribe leader infuriated at this sent some orc and goblin assassins after him.
He hid from them and eventually died, yet 5 days later another orc roughly the same size named Gandoria appeared, he was a shaman accompanying people on quests and hanging around areas off interest, yet once again a band off assassins came after him, later as before another orc, just the same yet a thief and this repeated many times, yet each character was different from the next, it was divined to one occupation not knowing anything of the next, each was equipped differently yet they were all linked, the orc had never actually changed and never remembered what he had last done..
He was said to originally come from the ashz-oc clans and worked producing weapons as a slave until his break out.
He is about seven feet tall and very broad.


Warrior abilities:
Amazing strength
Superior Axe man ship
Able to throw throwing axes quite accurately
Incredible Pain threshold
And He’s scary

He is known to travel with a small shady goblin known as
Grikkit, this is not his real name but is usually by Gandoria's side

Species: Goblin

Occupation: Spell casting thief (fire)

Age: 30 Human years

Strengths: Very fast, can lock pick with skill and very smooth and fast talking, very smart but lightly armoured.

Weakness: Being very small he can be knocked down with ease and is very lightly armoured.

Inventory: He always wears padded leather, he carries a few herbs, a lock pick, a small amount of gold, he carries a short thin sword and a dagger, and some throwing knives.

Personality: He is very smart and fast talking, he will talk his way out of trouble or fight out without hesitating.

Other details: He works for Gandoria mainly so takes sides with him.

History: He was sent out to kill Gandoria yet when seeing Gandoria he tried to trick Gandoria into drinking poison, Gandoria spilled a tiny bit of it onto the table before drinking it seeing what it did to the table, Gandoria picked him up and slamming him against the wall Grikkit quickly made a bond with Gandoria, he would help Gandoria for a small amount of gold and follow him, Gandoria accepted this offer and travels with Grikkit now.

Magic abilities: Basic Orc and Goblin Fire magic can make Fireballs, Set things on fire and he can also detect the presence of fire magic.

Warrior abilities:
Above average Knife and Dagger skills.
Low Pain threshold
Easily overpowered
Quite skilful with throwing knives.


New Santharian

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Posts: 200

« Reply #9 on: December 04, 2002, 03:02:22 PM »

Name: Keelin

Gender: female

Race: Wood Elf

Tribe: Jhehellrhim

Age: 39

Title: Hire-sword

Appearance: Keelin has silver-grey eyes that twinkle when she smiles and short, messily cut red-brown hair. Her mouth is small and full and is usually smiling, unless she is angry when it sets into a thin line. Her skin is lightly tanned and scarred (sp?) in a few places, mostly on her arms and torso. Her build is lean and muscled, but still feminine, however Keelin is not overly curvy and has a medium bust. Keelin is 1 ped 2 1/2 fore tall and weighs 1 pygge 2 heb. She wears navy blue pants and a grey riding tunic, for mobility. She has a grey headband matching her tunic to keep her hair out of her eyes. She wears ankle-high, soft-soled boots in a slightly darker shade of grey.

Personality: Generally very good natured, but can get angry very quickly when provoked. Gets frustrated when she can't get her point across because of her lack of speech. Has a hard time calming down once angered, generally holds long grudges, and has very little patience.
- Likes: trying out new things, small children, snakes, revenge
- Dislikes: people who think she can't hear or think just because she can't speak, people with no morals, being insulted

Keelin was born in the year of 1561 aS to Sorcha of the Jhehellrhim and Anda of the Jehellrhim. Her mother died in childbirth, as she was growing up her father would speak very little of Keelin's mother, therefore Keelin knows very little about Sorcha. It was soon discovered that Keelin could not speak or make any sound at all with her voice,she was mute. She and a few of the others in the village created a series of hand signs Keelin could use, however, it was not widely known to anyone outside her village and if she ever traveled outside Keelin had to make due with pantomime and other methods.

When she was 11 her father disappeared and she was adopted by the family of one of her father's friends. No one Keelin questioned knew where her father went or when, or if, he planned to return.

On her 20th birthday Keelin requested to be apprenticed to the local weaponsmaster. She had decided that as soon as she was prepared she would head out and seek her father. She trained for 10 years with the weaponmaster and was declared a warrior of her own right.

In the year of 1591 aS, her village was attacked by a group of hired mercenaries. Taken by surprise, the small village had no chance to defend itself. Keelin and a few of the others were able to barricade themselves in one of the houses and fend off the mercenaries by shooting arrows at them through the upper windows. After the battle, the dead were numerous and amoung them numbered Keelin's foster family and many of her friends. Keelin swore she would find out who had hired the mercenaries and get her revenge.

When questioning her fellow survivors many of them remebered the mercenaries asking for Anda. However, no one could remeber if the mercenaries had said who wanted him or what they wanted him for. Convinced that her father must have been caught up in some type of evil conspiracy, Keelin set forth to find him and get her revenge upon whoever had ordered the attack on her village.

Posing as a traveling mercenary keeps food in her stomach and money in her purse. Due to the lack or an international sign language, Keelin gets by as best she can, but there have been no few misunderstandments between her and others and she has managed to pick up a few enemies on her travels.

Keelin has accumulated good amount of feild experience in the last 8 years: mostly in minor wars/battles. She did act as a bodyguard for merchant trains for a while, and even joined a group of explorers once. She hasn't found a lead on her father or the mercenaries yet, but feels she is getting closer.

Weaknesses: She is mute.

Strengths: Sword-work.

Possessions: Her scimitar.  

There isn't enough time to do everything and too much time to do nothing.

Ciran Darkblade
New Santharian

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Posts: 118

« Reply #10 on: December 05, 2002, 03:51:22 PM »

-Ciran Darkblade




-Dark Ranger.

Ciran is a dark and depressing individual. His eyes are deep and saturnine. If one looks hard enough, they can almost see his only love's dead body within them. His hair is long and black, flowing down past his shoulders when his hood is not on. He wears all black, a tunic, cloak, jerkin, cape, and a fine suit of hardened leather armor. The boots he wears are also black, but covered in golden runes. He carries a beautiful black and natural wood colored bow, and a black broadsword. Finally is the silver knife. He obtained it from a human ranger who challenged Ciran to a duel, after hearing of his  reputation. Ciran is in all, a very dark and depressing individual, and he doubts this will ever change.

-A dark brooding individual, he is haunted by the events of his past, but knows he will never be allowed to forget it. He is cruel, and amoral, but thinks nothing of it. He will rarely engage anyone in conversation, and when approached, he will either leave, or simply ignore them.

- Born in the Phaleon, Ciran grew up in a typical home in the lower branches of the trees. His father was a hunter and his mother was a minor earth mage. Ciran followed in both traditions for many years before his exile from the great forest for an accidental death he committed. He still wore his family's emblem on a golden amulet, but kept it well hidden most of the time. He travelled the wilds of Santharia for several years, before reaching the City of New-Santhala, at first he was welcomed by many of the citizens he met, but later was shunned, by now he was used to this, so he moved north, to the refugee-filled city of Ravenguard, where the most unusual people lived.

He stayed there for many years, but a mysterious string of Murders compelled him to join the City Guard. He earned great local fame for himself with the capture of the Murderer, Lursus Khrath, who had been betrayed and left for dead by his fellow gang members. Ciran lived there for 4 more years, until and army led by the exiled governor Elric, and the Order of the Fallen Knight, Dragor Nightsbane, razed the city and pillaged all of it's wealth. Later Ciran moved northwest to the city of Milkengrad.

This was the highest, and lowest point in Ciran's life. After about 8 months in the city, he met a young human Noble girl named Lyradina. When her father refused to allow their marriage, they eloped, and set up a small trading post near an Eyashan monastery in the Tandala highlands. After hunting one day, he came home to discover several dead barbarians inside. He then went to his bedroom and discovered Lyradina being gang raped by a group of barbarians. He quickly killed three of them and they ran off into the forest. He left for the monastery, to get some healing herbs. When he returned. He found one Barbarian had returned, and killed her. He shot three arrows into him, and then brutally mutilated the beast of a man.... He never forgave himself for not being quicker.

Since then, Ciran has wondered wherever his boots took him. He has become very insulated and isolationistic. He has also reverted to the cruel ways of his home. It is much like he is trying in to forget something, but never succeeding.

- He rarely speaks, and when he does it is merely to berate, or insult those around him.
- He has no friends, nor does he desire too.
- Lyradina was everything to him, when she died so did part of him. He is both cruel and uncaring now.

- An excellent archer and swordsman.
- He is highly intelligent, and is not easy to fool.

-a black sword.
-a knife, obtained from the body of a dead ranger.
-a black recurve bow. (bought after he left the Phaelon)
-Lyradina's journal. He has never read it, but keeps it for it's sentimental value.
-a pair of enchanted boots so that he will move faster and quieter.
-a black and gold amulet displaying his family's emblem.
-arrows and poison for both the arrows and his blade.

- Two male Eophyrhim Hunting Hounds named Voldruc and Zane.

The quicker a kill, the quicker you can kill again.- Viresse - Eophyrhim Tribe Entry

Don Griffvander
New Santharian

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« Reply #11 on: December 08, 2002, 02:25:22 PM »

Don Griffvander

Master Smith


Born into Strongpicks, "married" into Oreteeth

120 yrs old.

Don Griffvander, is around 1.5 ped in hieght, dark brown skin, and black hair and a long beard. Is quite muscular, although not clearly toned and defined, but solidly built none-the-less.

He is good-natured, and patient. He has a wife, Ghilda 118 yrs, and twin sons, Glert and Daak. Both 10 yrs old. Can be quite focused and determined in his smithery. Loves his family above all else. Believes all dwarves should visit the surface at some point and time.


Don's childhood was on average pretty good. He would be taught everyday at 1sun till 7sun. After his lessons with the Teacher, he would spend many moments with his father and grandfather. Watching them at their work, occasionally helping out. When Don was 18 yrs old, schooling time lessened as his apprenticship of Smithery grew. At that time, he only just dabbled with his acute sense of direction, never really being challanged to use and excersice it. As time grew on, all within his family felt the weakening of the grandfather. Don's father, knew this ahead, as he lessen'd responsebilities giving them to Don. Don was barely 20 when his grandfather died. All family was there when he passed, shareing with the last breathes of the old Griffvander. Death didn't shake them much, they knew he was going to die and they felt sorrow for knowing. But something that really touched Don was when upon a dying request, old Griffvander asked if anyone could tell him about the surface, about up above, and the looks feels and smells. Naturally, nowone knew, all around the clan, nowone could grant the old man's request. The preisthood held an ellaborate funeral for old Griffvander, but it was nothing compared to the inner conficts going on within Don. It was then that he made up his mind to leave the clan, and journy to the surface and fufill his grandfather's request.

The following year was spent in intense work. The clan did not want him to leave, but would not stop him if he choose. For that, Don toiled 1sun till 24moon at the furnace. It got to a point that most days his father didn't need to attend his duties. Don left the clan before his 21 birthday, many said their farewells, and his father offered to walk with him to the journy to the surface. Along the way his farther confessed to Don, saying that the secret to the Griffvander Smithery was because they had generations to perfect it, by themselves with no other influence to effect it. He spoke that every male within the family had the duty, regardless of what they felt. He told Don, that his grandfather was blessed with the same direction sense, it was always there within the family. This brought tears to Don's brown eyes. His father too, joined in tears. Don would be the first Griffvander to actually live outside the clan, on the surface.

Luck would have it, the sun didn't disorient Don at the least. His eyes gazed upon rolling hills, abundant woodland, and the mountains from whence he came. With only a backpack of supplies, and hunting tools, he survived out in the surface. Although he learned the hard way, his first few weeks of travle he spent fending off saberwolves, and other creatures thinking to pick him off for an easy kill. Needless to say, he aquired many pelts and hides from this endeavor. His first visit to a village was, rather glorious. Save for everyone there was taller than he, and lacked a proper beard. This turned him off, but he knew that these must be humans, his clan occasionally encounted them. Familier brownies he saw scattered amid this township, but they looked shady and up to no-good. So he steer'd clear. It was hear he found the worth of the various hides and pelts in his possesion. Some of them the trader couldn't belive the dwarf could accomplish without proper armor and a weapon. None-the-less Don grasp hold of gold and silver coinage. He would aquire more, when he put his services to the local blacksmith. Within that village, he stayed breifly. Only settling for another year or so, before moving on for the rest of the lands to see.

In his travles he came across many strange fellows. Within woodlands he encountered elves. He was taught basic Elven, but never really had much practice. These people talked fluidly, and as youthful as they appeared. They were a livly bunch, some were patient as he, but still most of them didn't have good beards. They were better than humans, but... not so much. Leaving that expanse of woodland, he could have sworn he had a sudden urge to stay and chop wood, but brushed it off having heard laughter within the trees. He guessed those folk liked to play tricks.

Within his travles he came across many townships, one after the other, along a worn highway. He passed by a few castles, and many a time he would stop within the small towships, lending his expertice in smithery. Appreantly word got round, and many sought Don's work. This greatly impeaded his travling time, even though he was paid well for it. At age 35, and his time at the furnace was unmatched thus far. At one point as he was leaving a township, a strangly cheery fellow on a horse rode to him. He was in bright feild plate, and bore a cross on the chest, shield, and forehelm. It was a human, because he had a poor excuse for a beard. The man told Don he was a fighter for the light, protector of innocense and follower of Armeros, God of war and judgement.In short he was apart of the Paladins of Armeros. He asked of Don if he would join in some crusade aginst evil and darkness. The knight spoke highly of Don's skill at the forge, saying that he had been searching for him ever since his first work in the Kingdom. If it was up to the that holy knight, Don would have left all and join him, but the dwarf had a request and he ment to fufill it.

Don Griffvander would travle with caravans across deserts, be a crew amoung ships sailing the open seas, and also follow a troupe of performers. He saw the lands, and kept a bound diary/log of all he saw. Most interesting thing that most useually ask Don is why he doesn't have a decent set of armor or a weapon. In truth he never really set out to create his own, just always kept it in the back of his mind.

69 yrs old, Don spent found himself within Sanguia. He even managed a fairly decent Shoppe. The owner was a baron of sorts, and didn't have time to manage this particular storefront dayin-dayout. Don grew a bit restless with the lifstyle of living within the city. He returned to the mountains, or at least much closer than where he used to be. Out in a cabin he built, he set up his own private furnishings, and forge. He bacame a known figure within the trading posts, partly because he always need the ore being traded there by the Boltgrumms. The thought never truly crossed his mind to return to the caverns, now 77 yrs old, he was a bit unsure of how to go about proper dwarven functions.

One day, he was coming down from his cabin, in need to restock his supplie of coal and iron ores. He arrived at his usual trading post, when the latest shipment of ores came in. A crew of humans, and dwarves carried the loads in, in lead was a female, pale tan skin, blue eyes and red hair. She stood there, barking orders at the crew, telling them where to place what. She was quite assertive when it came to being paid, and she left brushing past the dumbfounded Don.
Don never forgot that day. Or that female.

It took many years, and attempts to gain the woman's attention and name. Ghilda, was a daughter of 4. She was born with perfect pitch, but she hunted for the clan. One of the things thay had in common was the joy of the surface, and its beauties. The two would talk togather many times thruout the years. She would always listen to Don's stories of where hes been, and then confirm them within his journal. In turn for sharing his experiances of the far lands of his travles, she renewed his knowledge of Dwarven culture. This exchange went on for less then a month when Ghilda finally asked (actually just got fed up and told) Don to come visit her within the clan. Taken back, Don had no choice.

Being quite nervous, he set out, with directions in his hand. Once within the tunnels, he found everything familier. The rock, the welcoming silence. It reminded him of the home he had left. He had been hiking for a while, he didn't even relizes that there was no light in is path. Within a great open cavern, there stood great doors guarded by two armor clad dwarves. But along with the guards there stood Ghilda, waiting patiently. Her face lit up, seeing Don arrive. It was good thing she was there, by the looks of the guards it would have been a hassle to gain entry.

Within the massive doors, there was a feast for the eyes of Don, as a flood of memories came onto his mind. With Ghilda leading Don, they past many of the farms. Off a ways, was a nursery with the waterdrum keeping its gentle soothing, rhythm. Turning his head to the other side, they pair past by little ones gathered around an older woman, learning. Ghilda pointed at various objects and carvings to Don, who was thuroughly enjoying himself. She lead him to a home, series of rooms, within a much larger cavern.

She showed Don an old woman, weaving a loom. She was Ghida's mother, and appearntly Ghilda talked about Don with her quite a few times. The three of them talked, mostly about the clan. Don had many questions. Soon their company grew as time passed, a brother would come by and chat with Don. He carried a heafty pick, he was probably a miner. Another female came, a sister. She held an axe with a double head of a pick. Ghilda explained that she was a woodsmith, but also had perfect pitch like herself. The family was all but gathered, Ghilda had inquired of her two remaining brothers. Turns out they were hard at work in the forge, they were smiths. Everyone spent some time talking to Don over their brew of ale. Don made many of them smile with his tales of the surface, most of them never really ventured as far or as wide as he had done. Soon they parted company, as many needed to return to their duties. Ghilda lead Don to see her last two brothers at the furnace. The familier heat and glowing of white-hot metals, and smelting of ores brought back more memories. The soot covered brothers greeted their sister with open arms, as she pointed to Don, mentioning that he too was a smithy.

Having now known Ghilda's family Don made it a habit every so often coming to visit them, even helping the brothers of the forge. It made him feel nice being around his own peoples.

Don was 90 going on 91 years old, he was a regular and didn't need assistance from Ghilda to enter the guarded doors. This time, there was something differnt in the air within the clan. Men folk were pruning themselves, braiding and rebraiding their beards. Taking special care of their clothes, and making sure they were all clean and... presentable. He walked around over to Ghilda's home, finding the same thing of her brothers. But Ghilda nor her sister was there. Mother Ghilda, as Don called her, informed him that this was a great time that he came to visit. She spoke to him of the 'Age of Choosing', of course Don had no clue of it. The brothers, told him about it, when a dwarf reaches the age of 90 the womenfolk choose one for the husband within the clan. The miner, said he really didn't care for a wife, but if he got one it would be nice. Which was the direct opposite of the two smiths, they expressed that bother of them really, really, wanted a wife. They said somthing about having sons, before they continued grooming themselves. Don left the home, and sat at a shallow rock pool turned into a fountain. He looked around, everyone getting dressed, and prepared for this big ceremony. He sighed, remebering he's almost 91, and on top of that he wasn't even apart of their clan. All this brought saddness upon himself, but he was excited that Ghilda and her sister would get a husband, and possibly her brothers would get a wife. He cheered himself up.

Everyone gathered around to watch as the Preisthood lead the females participating onto a semi-plateu for all to see. The high preist, call'd forth all the males to step forwards from the crowd. Don wished the brothers luck as they left his company moving forwards amoung the other males. The womenfolk were extravagently dressed, their clothes glittered with the various flowing styles embroidered. Then, Don spotted her, on the far left. Ghilda was wearing a glowing blue dress, embroidered with topaz, and dusted with sparkling quartz to have her shimmer. Her ruby red hair was brushed and flowed down her shoulders. Her crystal blue eyes only accented her natural beauty. Someone bumped into Don, snapping him fron his daydream. The presit had started a chant, or song, and everyone followed along.

The high preist, lulled down the chanting, but asked it be continued by the other preisthood. As to provide backround along with the drums. Then one-by-one the womanfolk steped fowards looking down at all groomed mass in the fornt, and pointed, then called out his name with a smile. Then return to their original spot in the long line. Down below the men would clap, shout, and otherwise congradulate the choosen.

Don, looked with awe as the line slowly and steadily approuched Ghilda. He shouted and hollored as her sister choose one of the smiths he saw a while back ago. She waved to him, and her brothers before returning to the line. Finally, Ghilda's turn came. She slowly walked to the edge, looking down at all the men. Each sporting a groomed beared, her brothers each were pointing out other men for her to choose, but she looked past them. She looked past the crowd of men. She looked past the people gathered there, right past them and stright to Don.

Slowly her hand rose, and she pointed beyond the crowd of potentials, to the very back of the spectators. The crowd almost instantly looked within itself, than back towards Don. Who was completely unsure of who she was pointing at, seeing how there was an old man and himself just back there. Within that moment, the crowd whispered. The everyone was willing to except the fact that she would have choosen the older male. It was when she opened her mouth, to shout aloud Don Griffvander, to be her choosen. That is when the crowd went into an uproar, especially the group of potentials. They shouted about he doesn't even live in the same clan. They reminded everyone that he was born from the Strongpicks. One made a joke of Don having lived above so long he forgot which way was down, in which everyone laughed. All but the preisthood and Ghilda.

Ghilda, spoke up, after the preisthood silenced the restless crowd. She offered a challange to all smiths, because she intened to choose a smith. That whosoever can forge a weapon aginst any Don made, and withstand a blow unscathed, would be her choosen. With that said, immediatly the qualified suitors left for the furnace, crowd of people in their wake. The challange was set, and Don abided by it, along with many others.

Don toiled over the burning hot ambers of the furnace, returning to apply the heavy hammer to the white-hot metal. The clanging, and ringing resounded throughout, everyone was watching the smiths' every move. Ghilda turned into tears, being conforted by Mother Ghilda, and siblings. Sparks flew everywhich way, as men pounded metals into impliments of war. A few unskilled workers caught themselves ablaze working carelessly around the furnace. Don steadily created his weapon. He remembered the secret his father told him, and nea look upon any other work but his own. One had finished early, and began taunting the rest out of their focus. Those who were lead astray would certainly lose to that one. when all was said and done, down placed the glowing orange shape into cooling waters of the pool. He was the last to be finished, many grew impatient of him starting to test their own weapons aginst others, starting the contest.

Swords broke, and maces dented. Another round of impacts rang, as axes chipp'd and hammer bits flew from its origin. One great sword, a massive braodsword remained unscathed, along with another heavy, spiked mace. The steam finally settled, as Don pulled forth his weapon. The large double-head of an axe emerged from the dark waters. The two remaining suitors poked fun on Don's expense, while he polished and groomed his creation. Don carefully wrapped wet leather in places along its large shaft, tightly he bound it that waters dripped from the leather itself. With a careless swing he flung the axe into the furnace, the two challanges laughed, as Don remained serious. He dived his hands into the flame retriving the finished product of his masterwork. The flame quickly harden'd the leather bond to the shaft, the axe head gleamed from the polish smelted off its surface. It was magnificent. And the crowd was in awe. All looked as Don's double-axe went up aginst the spiked mace.

The first strike, clanged loudly at the force of both dwarves put into it. Upon inspection, not marks were on either weapon, and they were forced to continued. They struck twice, again to no mark or falter shown. The deadly rhythm of swinging weapons remained constant, as the High Preist and Council instructed the two to continue untill one weapon broke aginst the other. It was the 32nd strike that finally the massive spiked ball, split into separate halves aginst Don's mighty axe. The broken halves cracked the ground on impact, leaving a dented stub of handle. Ghilda's family cheered, as some members of the crowd also cheer'd for Don. The preisthood dismissed that suitor, and recognized the man wielding the heavy broadwsord. The weapon broke many weapons, as did the spiked mace. The wielder did not show reluctancy, as he rose the blade high to strike.

First, second, and third strikes, proved nothing but immense strain on Don. The other obviously was a skilled swordsman or a soldier, for every strike aginst his axe seemed to sap the strength he needed to keep it held firm. The other laughed at Don's inability in the very weapon he created, this made him angry. The next series of strikes would prove well to weaken the other's grip and stance. Metal flew so quick and so often that at times people could swear their weapons were glowing as hot as when they were forged. Many lost count of exactly how many strikes were made. As they counted into the hundreds, blows were already struck, others being taken, and another about to impact. This made it extreamly difficult to track.

Both dwarves were growing tired, muscles aching for rest. But neither would allow for it, as each swung. Don rose his axe, bringing it down upon the blade, as the other held it firm with both hands making an upwards arch. The familier clang resounded off the walls once again. The crowd gasped, as the remaining suitor laughed at Don. He quickly looked at his axe, untouched, but soiled by dust and sweat. A smile crept on his face. This was when the suitor looked to his broadsword finding none to look at. The weapon broke at the hilt, due its hasty build, it was not suffeciantly formed onto the handle. Clearly the fualt of the smithy who worked it.

The crowd left the screaming failure of a smith to his borken pride and sword. Don and Ghilda along with many others were Wedd. They was a great celibration in a large hall, everyone feasted, and drank the clan's special brew. The Clan leader recognized Don as a member of their Clan. Even if he was a Strongpick from birth, they prosmised him always to have a home within those halls.

The following two years, Don and Ghilda brokedown and rebuilt his cabin. It was a togather project, as they would need more space for visitors, children, and familily. Don built a separate house for his forge. They would often visit the clan many times during the years. They would be blessed with two children. Two boys, named Glert and Daak. They were born within the clan walls, out of respect for her family. Don age 110, and Ghilda 109 they began raising thier boys.

Don has little to no fighting prowess. Although he may fight for honour and survival, he knows little of the many arts his weapons require. He also tends to become numb to his surroundings when engrossed at the forge. This accounts for the extreme quality of his work, but also makes Ghilda angry. Imagine calling dinner, and being ignored. After awhile it gets to you.

Full-time Smithy, almost always toiling over the furnace. His father was a Smith, as was his father before him, naturally Don pick'd it up easily. Many say the males in his family before him used to be tan skin'd untill they spent a little too much time about the furnace. Thus a humurous tale of how Griffvander males have very dark skin. Taking apprenticship by his father he steadily learned the ups and downs of metalwork. Creating weapons and armor to fufill orders made by costumers. Or just creating replacments for whatever the community needed. Don did whatever he could to aid the clan.

       Part-time Earth-guide, his innate direction sense was quite spectacular. An exaggerated story says how his mother had birth'd him amid bath, but he managed to swim up to the surface not only for his first breathe, but for his first meal! The story has been laughed over, and ment for its humor. Don currently uses the skill when advanturers need safe passage thru the communal territories. More often than once he was call'd upon outside on the surface to find many a weary travler gone astray atop the mountains. He is always ready to aid hapless travlers. He always enjoys his time on the surface.  

Don Griffvander
New Santharian

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Posts: 41

« Reply #12 on: December 08, 2002, 02:26:22 PM »

Sorry for the history, I wasn't sure weather or not to put it in or not. So I just did it anyways.

If its a problem tell me, and I'll edit it out and  just leave the basics.

Sometimes I think that woman is crazy, always coming in my forge telling me when to come to dinner. I'm a grown Dwarve I know when to come to dinner...

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« Reply #13 on: December 12, 2002, 11:08:22 PM »

*sneaks in and drops character description*

Name: Raoneth the honorless

Race: Brownie (brownbark)

Class: (I hate classes, but i guess this one would have to be a...) ...Mage.

Height: about 6 inches

Age: 19yrs

Sex: Male

Appearance: small, wears a grayish red cloak. His skin looks gray, but if you look closely enough you see it is a very bleak grayish shade of red-brown. His eyes are the same colour as his skin.

Raoneth at the moment:

He is quite good at Lifemagic. But as to how or where he learned it, he does not know. He is however more talented in the realm of wind, but he is not very experienced with the use of this (he may have used this to convince Harardam to go "outside"(see history)). His skills in this excell in the manipulation of the sentient mind.
If a demon were to try to posess him (not very likely, but every detail counts, I guess) the demon, unless it's a very powerful one, would be in more trouble than Rao, due to the hard training he recieved as a child.
He is, unlike most brownies, not very at home in the forests. He used to dislike being around other brownies, but has recently had some experiences that has made his curiosity stronger than his fear. He is very experienced with mountains, and knows mutch of mushrooms and other plants that grow in caves... Actually, he knows lots of plants in general. He is rather bleak for a coloured brownie, this sometimes causes stares and curiosity among those who notice his skin actually has a small hint of colour.

He is weak and not very well built and socially he seems very... inexperienced, he speaks little, and when touched he gives a small flinch. This is also why he speaks with many um's and uh's.

Getting him into a long conversation is difficult, unless you have some information he wants. He is also too suspicious to those he doesn't know. He also believes he has a sixth sense of danger, whitch is the reason he often thinks and says thinks like "I see trouble coming" et.c.

He is usually very calm and controlled, and those who know him, know him as quite polite.

While others are struck with fear when a demonic creature is near, Raoneth gets a feeling of awe, and wouldn't want to cause harm to the demon unless it was really necessary.
He would be honored if a wraith chose to posess him.

Sometimes ,for no apparent reason, he gives a flinch, followed by a strange facial expression. Then seems to gather himself together and keep on doing whatever it is he was doing.

He has become quite sceptical to elves due to experiences with them around Strata. He believes them to be both rude and rash, and quite unstable.

He has just embarked on a journey searching for his background. Not knowing that what he is searching for might just be right were he started.


During the harsh years a small group of brownies managed to escape their dwarven captors in the Mithral mountains, and hid in a small cave in the Caeytharin Mountains where they discovered strange plants and creatures. Thousands of years later this has developed in to a small society, oblivious to the outside world. This society needed no name because it had no connection to the outside world, except the old stories.
Their language being a strange development of an old brownie tongue. This society is very controlled, and the rank of an individual is decided by that individuals honor. You gain honor by doing things defined as honorable, and lose it by doing things that are not. The ones with most honor are the rulers of the society, logically called "the honored ones".
The most honored one is allowed the great responsibility it is to be posessed by the great demon, Baithag.
Baithag is a demon wraith of the great old powerful sort, and many of the rituals used to gain honor are ancient techniques of teaching one self to control a demon posessing you. Thus most of these brownies have trained from birth in the art of controlling demons posessing you.
As the most honored one is also the leader of this small society, many strange laws have been added as a result of Baithags influence...
At the age of six the brownie child is allowed to feel Baithag inside him/her and to attempt to control it for a few seconds. Most of the children manage this, those who fail are usually avoided by the other children their age, they end up in depressions and many become suicidal as they reach the teens. Raoneth actually managed this very well and was considered a boy that had great potential.[/The few old stories that survived were the horrible ones from the harsh years, told to the children to prevent them from going to the outside world.

This is the society Raoneth grew up in as a gardeners (his father) apprentice. This is the society Raoneth would have grown up in. If he had not at the age of 13 gotten the great idea of tricking his friend Harardam to go outside.

Harardam never returned.

Raoneth actually managed to keep his little "prank" a secret for several years by means of threats and blackmail to the ones who heard him convincing Harardam to go out. But eventually he got discovered. He got called to attend a meeting of "the honored ones", the leaders of this small society.

He entered the hall with high hopes, for years had passed since the disappearance of Harardam, and a young mind thinks little of the past. He was also a talented user of lifemagic, and the most talented magic users had been known to recieve rewards by the honored ones.

He was shocked when he heard his crime had been discovered

The punishments were handed out immediately.

Since he had hidden it using honorless means, he was declared honorless.

Since Harardam was assumed dead, Raoneth was to be executed, but as he was not yet old enough to be responsible for his own actions his father received the execution.

For the crime of tricking someone to go outside, Raoneth received the strongest punishment of the law.

He was forced to watch his father die, and then he was thrown to the outside himself.

Walking away from the mountains thoughts of blaming himself for his fathers death, thoughts of Harardam and his fathers execution lead his mind to a great depression.

He walked the first day in tears.

the second day in deep thought

the third day in rage

the fourth day in denial

the fifth day he believed the thoughts of the fourth day.

On the sixth day he had forgotten the whole brownie society of the Caeytharin Mountains. And thus his whole life.

The seventh day he entered Marcogg.

In marcogg he walked around aimlessly and would have ended up living in the streets had not a kind dwarf named Ruban for no apparent reason taken him in and fed him. Ruban also taught him the language most commonly spoken in Santharia, and slowly Raoneth forgot his own language as his mind wanted to forget everything about his past. After a few months Ruban told Raoneth that he could no longer house him, and that he had to leave at once. Raoneth walked away from Rubans house while wondering what he would do now to survive.

He traveled around for a couple of years, offering his services as a gardener until one day he entered a bar in Onved (the farthest West he had ever been).

A small, brown, furry biped, not very unlike himself turned around and looked at Raoneth. Raoneth stopped. Bloody images and an overpowering feeling of shame suddenly washed over him. He closed his eyes and shook his head and suddenly noticed the other brownie standing closer to him. "I... I'm sorry. I cannot speak to you now" Raoneth said, turning away he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard the other brownie speaking a sentence in a strangely familiar language. Raoneth turned, "I can't understand what you're saying, please let me go" Raoneth left the bar hearing the other brownie shouting to his back "Hey... Hey! You just spoke that language to me." Footsteps, getting faster "Hey, wait!". Raoneth ran. He did not know why, but he had to. His new life depended on it. What new life? Was there ever an old one? What am I? That question made Raoneth stop. He stood still in an allyway, looking back, he saw the other brownie standing in the street.

Raoneth chose to leave Onved, and he's still wandering.

*runs away*

Edited by: Raoneth  at: 12/12/02 2:15:04 pm
Damien Scar
Commander of the Gates
Approved Character
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Gender: Male
Posts: 596

« Reply #14 on: February 27, 2003, 06:05:22 AM »

Damien Scar
Height-2 peds
Hair- Blue-black hanging over the shoulders.
Eyes- Jet black
Face-ruggedly handsome, with a scar upon his left cheek.
Clothing- black pants, boots, and a black silk shirt.  Wears a silver medalion around his neck upon a thick silver chain.
Weapons. His hands and feet.  Also carries several hidden throwing knives.
Occupation. King of Thieves in Strata.
History- Damien succeded the last King by the rules of succesion of thieves.  His last position was a gate commander in Milkengrad.  However after doing his Lord's woman he decided to move on.  He found himself in Strata and then found the thieves life to his liking he decided to become King.  The last King had become fat and careless.  Damien used his skills to remove his head from his body.  No one knew or even cared.  Then after the death all of the theives gathered together and voted for another King.  Damien used his considerable charm and resources.    

Recieving more votes from the other thieves than others who want the position after the last king is officially dead.  How the last king died, is of no concern.  So the Kingship is a very precarious position indeed!  

Damien is a very shrewd and dangerous man.  He likes to walk the fine line between the Underground society in which he rules and the above ground society in which he and his cohorts prey upon.  His word is law among the thieves and anyone breaking that law finds himself with his throat cut or worse!

<font face="Courier New, Courier, mono"><font color="#990000">Damien Scar

You can think about it, even plan on it but don't try it.


Edited by: Damien Scar at: 2/26/03 9:24:35 pm

I have travelled far and wide.
And Foiro's must have been my guide.
For I have discovered these things to be true;
A man must have two, mayhap three things in life to be truly happy.
A good weapon at his side.
A virtuous wife, if he can find her.
A quver full of children.
Sadly, I only have one;
A good weapon at my side.
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