Chronicles Of Roissha: Elemental Scourge *RE-OPENED AND ACCEPTING SHEETS*
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Where do we begin?
Dutchy, Coalition or holy empire?
Because I'll need to find a reason for my character to be in the holy Empire or the Dutchy.
Dutchy, Coalition or holy empire?
Because I'll need to find a reason for my character to be in the holy Empire or the Dutchy.
Finally ready.
If there's a problem, let me know.
EDIT: Made a slight change. The dual-wielding seemed kinda out of place to me when I thought about it.
Name: Jethro Gladstone
Race: Human
Age: 25
Class: Priest
Specialization: Paladin
Gear: Jethro wears a beige shirt and dark grey pants, as well as leather gloves and boots. His armour consists of a chain-mail shirt, a slightly beat-up breastplate, and a simple, open-faced helmet. He wields a mace in one hand, holds a small shield in the other, and carries several small javelins in a quiver on his back. He also carries two torches, 100 G, and a length of rope.
Appearance: Jethro is a tall, lanky fellow, with a relatively muscular build. He has short, messy brown hair, dark blue eyes, and an almost triangular chin. The amount of time he has spent outside has given him a rather healthy tan.
Background: Jethro was born and raised in a small coastal town. He worked on a boat as a fisherman for several years, and loved every minute of it, but it would not last.
One day, as he and his shipmates were sailing back to port, the boat loaded with fish, they were attacked by pirates. Jethro was one of the few who survived the raid, but the ship was beyond saving, barely managing the journey home before completely falling apart, and the cargo was lost.
Without anything to sell, Jethro and the remaining crew couldn't afford even a rowboat, and there were very few vessels around that needed extra hands. As a result, they found themselves jobless.
Out of options, Jethro decided to leave the town he'd lived in all his life and try to find work elsewhere. Once he had learned a bit of curative magic from the local preacher and, after a considerable amount of haggling, acquired some weapons and armour, Jethro set off on his journey.
Race: Human
Age: 25
Class: Priest
Specialization: Paladin
Gear: Jethro wears a beige shirt and dark grey pants, as well as leather gloves and boots. His armour consists of a chain-mail shirt, a slightly beat-up breastplate, and a simple, open-faced helmet. He wields a mace in one hand, holds a small shield in the other, and carries several small javelins in a quiver on his back. He also carries two torches, 100 G, and a length of rope.
Appearance: Jethro is a tall, lanky fellow, with a relatively muscular build. He has short, messy brown hair, dark blue eyes, and an almost triangular chin. The amount of time he has spent outside has given him a rather healthy tan.
Background: Jethro was born and raised in a small coastal town. He worked on a boat as a fisherman for several years, and loved every minute of it, but it would not last.
One day, as he and his shipmates were sailing back to port, the boat loaded with fish, they were attacked by pirates. Jethro was one of the few who survived the raid, but the ship was beyond saving, barely managing the journey home before completely falling apart, and the cargo was lost.
Without anything to sell, Jethro and the remaining crew couldn't afford even a rowboat, and there were very few vessels around that needed extra hands. As a result, they found themselves jobless.
Out of options, Jethro decided to leave the town he'd lived in all his life and try to find work elsewhere. Once he had learned a bit of curative magic from the local preacher and, after a considerable amount of haggling, acquired some weapons and armour, Jethro set off on his journey.
If there's a problem, let me know.
EDIT: Made a slight change. The dual-wielding seemed kinda out of place to me when I thought about it.
Name: Talrien Vandiir
Age: 73
Race: Elf
Class: Mage
Specialization: Battle Mage
Gear: Talrien wears deep green robes, stained with years of travel across the land. Small tears and holes are haphazardly patched up by himself and a hood is kept up to cover his face at most time. Underneath the robes he keeps a slightly curved elven longsword, engraved with the runes of his people it gleams a beautiful silver under light. For protection he wears a hardened leather chestplate to help deflect incoming blows while not losing out too much on mobility. He also wears a large belt around his waist, covered in pouches and other pockets. It is there that he keeps a few small trinkets and personal keepsakes; an amulet from a time long forgotten that he can't stand to part with, a handful of matches scraps of torn cloth to use as improvised bandages, a pouch full of small pebbles, and roughly 80 gold pieces.
Appearance: Talrien is somewhat tall. With a toned muscular build to fit his thin body. He has crystal blue eyes and light brown hair which is kept in a ponytail that runs down his robes to the center of his back. His eyes change when channeling his magic however, the iris takes over his pupil and the colour goes from a light crystal blue to a jade green that seems to pulse with an aggresive energy.
Background: Talrien was born in the forests of the Conclave within a tribe of his kin. The world of magitek was on the rise slowly but had not quite reached his home. After the wars broke out and the elemtnals began to rise against the people of Roissha the village elder had tried to reason with angry elementals nearby. To make them understand that this small forest dwelling village was no threat. There were those that did not see the elders way, and even though the elder had managed to subdue them through peace a group of young, brash elven warriors took arms against nature itself. Killing a handful before the land fought back with a ferocity that was thought impossible. The elementals slaughtered the warriors with ease then razed the village. Talrien was ushered away with his mother and older sister while his father tried to help hold the elementals back.
The three managed to escape to a nearby settlement where the lived for a few years. Talrien joined in the local militia and got a some military training while learning to harness his innate magical skills from. This led to his unique form of combat, fusing spells into his blade and channeling magic to augment his defense in combat.
Meanwhile the elemental war was escalating. One day off on a long patrol to a neighboring town, they attacked the town his mother and sister were in. When he and the others returned they found that nothing was left. Talrien ran to his house where there was no sign of his family, only the silver amulet that once belonged to his mother. He grabbed it and left. Since then he's been wandering the lands as a sellsword, honing his skills and eradicating and hostile elementals he could find.
Despite all this he maintains a positive demeanor in most situations, and has a generally positive view of the world.
Age: 73
Race: Elf
Class: Mage
Specialization: Battle Mage
Gear: Talrien wears deep green robes, stained with years of travel across the land. Small tears and holes are haphazardly patched up by himself and a hood is kept up to cover his face at most time. Underneath the robes he keeps a slightly curved elven longsword, engraved with the runes of his people it gleams a beautiful silver under light. For protection he wears a hardened leather chestplate to help deflect incoming blows while not losing out too much on mobility. He also wears a large belt around his waist, covered in pouches and other pockets. It is there that he keeps a few small trinkets and personal keepsakes; an amulet from a time long forgotten that he can't stand to part with, a handful of matches scraps of torn cloth to use as improvised bandages, a pouch full of small pebbles, and roughly 80 gold pieces.
Appearance: Talrien is somewhat tall. With a toned muscular build to fit his thin body. He has crystal blue eyes and light brown hair which is kept in a ponytail that runs down his robes to the center of his back. His eyes change when channeling his magic however, the iris takes over his pupil and the colour goes from a light crystal blue to a jade green that seems to pulse with an aggresive energy.
Background: Talrien was born in the forests of the Conclave within a tribe of his kin. The world of magitek was on the rise slowly but had not quite reached his home. After the wars broke out and the elemtnals began to rise against the people of Roissha the village elder had tried to reason with angry elementals nearby. To make them understand that this small forest dwelling village was no threat. There were those that did not see the elders way, and even though the elder had managed to subdue them through peace a group of young, brash elven warriors took arms against nature itself. Killing a handful before the land fought back with a ferocity that was thought impossible. The elementals slaughtered the warriors with ease then razed the village. Talrien was ushered away with his mother and older sister while his father tried to help hold the elementals back.
The three managed to escape to a nearby settlement where the lived for a few years. Talrien joined in the local militia and got a some military training while learning to harness his innate magical skills from. This led to his unique form of combat, fusing spells into his blade and channeling magic to augment his defense in combat.
Meanwhile the elemental war was escalating. One day off on a long patrol to a neighboring town, they attacked the town his mother and sister were in. When he and the others returned they found that nothing was left. Talrien ran to his house where there was no sign of his family, only the silver amulet that once belonged to his mother. He grabbed it and left. Since then he's been wandering the lands as a sellsword, honing his skills and eradicating and hostile elementals he could find.
Despite all this he maintains a positive demeanor in most situations, and has a generally positive view of the world.
I was waiting for everybody else to be done.
The once prosperous town of Terandril has seen better days, once being known for its innovation and local talent for inventors of magitek. In just one short year over half the town?s population has left due to recent bandit activities, normally one would think that a few bandits would stand no chance against even fair sized cities defenses, but these bandits, while few in number are well equipped, well trained and very resourceful. While even though in the last few days that you?ve been here nothing seems to have happened to make you think that the problem is as bad as you?ve been told. But that night as you enter your chambers you see a shadow jump from the window of your room onto the streets below, you race to the window to see where the figure has gone but you see nothing but empty streets and hear nothing but an eerie quiet that sends a chill down your spine. As you turn towards your bed you see that a piece of paper has been laid neatly on your mattress. You take a glimpse at it and read
?I need your help, meet me at the gates of town tomorrow night?
You stand there examining the note trying to think of who would go to the lengths of breaking into your room just to leave a note asking for help. The thought fades from your mind as you crumple it up and toss it into the trash and lay down for the night.
The town is now split into two halves, new Terandril and old Terandril as the town was expanding tremendously when the bandits first started to the bandits that plague them. You have been called to arms to defend the town against the bandits; Mayor Rathden Fraymoor has promised wealth renown and an introduction to the higher ups of the Duchy if you can permanently end the bandit attacks.
As you near New Terandril the air around you begins to thicken as you see hulking towers and a makeshift barricade trying to prevent unwanted visitors from gaining access to the town, and not far behind those do you see a gargantuan body of water sparkling as the sun shines down upon it. When you finally reach the barrier a stump of a man raises his hand, ?Halt! What business do you have here?? he says in a rather frustrated tone.
The man finally lets you pass with a ?Harrumph? and says ?I?ll be keeping a close eye on you, make sure not to do anything stupid or it?ll be the last thing you do? When you finally enter the town you are architecture shows that the people preferred form over function, while the buildings are made of stone they seem to have wholly unnecessary adornments on them or that they seem to move along with you as you walk along past them towards the center of the town.
Alright, so here are all the accepted character sheets (which are all of them but I want to consolidate them into a single post or two)
?I need your help, meet me at the gates of town tomorrow night?
You stand there examining the note trying to think of who would go to the lengths of breaking into your room just to leave a note asking for help. The thought fades from your mind as you crumple it up and toss it into the trash and lay down for the night.
The town is now split into two halves, new Terandril and old Terandril as the town was expanding tremendously when the bandits first started to the bandits that plague them. You have been called to arms to defend the town against the bandits; Mayor Rathden Fraymoor has promised wealth renown and an introduction to the higher ups of the Duchy if you can permanently end the bandit attacks.
As you near New Terandril the air around you begins to thicken as you see hulking towers and a makeshift barricade trying to prevent unwanted visitors from gaining access to the town, and not far behind those do you see a gargantuan body of water sparkling as the sun shines down upon it. When you finally reach the barrier a stump of a man raises his hand, ?Halt! What business do you have here?? he says in a rather frustrated tone.
The man finally lets you pass with a ?Harrumph? and says ?I?ll be keeping a close eye on you, make sure not to do anything stupid or it?ll be the last thing you do? When you finally enter the town you are architecture shows that the people preferred form over function, while the buildings are made of stone they seem to have wholly unnecessary adornments on them or that they seem to move along with you as you walk along past them towards the center of the town.
Alright, so here are all the accepted character sheets (which are all of them but I want to consolidate them into a single post or two)
Name: Ereptor 'Pete' Umbra
Race: Human
Age: 34
Class: Thief
Specialization: Shadow thief
Gear: A tough leather vest under his clothes, able to brush off most slashes of a sword, though a strong thrust would penetrate the leather easily. A set of black clothes consisting of a robe with a hood ,tight pants and a belt. A pair of leather shoes, designed to make as little noise as possible.
A small 13 centimeters (~5 inch) steel dagger.
A short bow 70 centimeters (~30 inches) long hangs on his back in a special leather open bag, so that the bow could be under his clothes, enabling his to hide it while wearing the hood.
A quiver rests next to the bag, in it a dozen metal arrow head arrows.
In a satchel that rests on his belt, three kinds of small compact bombs can be found, usually carrying around five overall. A smoke type bomb, a gas (lethal) type bomb and a flare (flash-bang like) type bomb.
Special gloves for wall climbing (not like spiderman, don't worry. Free style climbing whenever possible).
A mechanical right eye that can see three times better than most normal humans, transplanted into Ereptor due to the loss of his eye. He's able to "zoom in" with it.
100G.
A box of matches.
Appearance: Ereptor stands at 1.83 meters(6 feet), with a left brown eye and a green mechanical right eye, short black hair. He has a horizontal scar over his right eye, a reminder of the surgey he had. He is not very muscular but he is still athletic due to the requirements of his work. He has developed his upper body muscles in order to climb walls faster and better.
Background:
The first thing Pete remembers he saw as a child was a bazzar. He tried to take some apples from a nearby stand, but the person selling them caught him and hit him. Then another child came and paid for the apple, and took him somewhere. (4 year old).
Fast forward two years. THe next clear memory Pete has is the woods. He stands in a clearing with the same child, but even though he himself grew up the child didn't. He recognizes him. This man is his father, a dwarf. Today he teached him how to shoot a bow. (6 year old)
Fast forward to the next piece of memory Pete has. From here on his memory is intact. He finds himself walking the street at day. He bumps into a man and takes his wallet. He doesn't seem to notice.(8 year old)
Pete began his life as a stranded child. The only home he knew was the warmth of his forster father, a kind dwarf craftsman. Pete spent his days taking what he needed from others without their permission. As he grew up and his abilities improved, he tried to help his father. Dealing with a discriminating law, his father had to pay three times the tax other human craftsmen paid becaue he was a dwarf. Pete decided to sneak into the workshops of other craftsmen and take the rest of the tax they would have paid if they were a dwarf. At first Pete was successful, but after a few consequetive nights Pete grew tired and he accidently woke up of of the craftsmen. A fight erupted, and Pete was subdued. The craftsman cut off a finger each from his hands, to make him look more like the dwarf him foster father is(his little finger) and his right eye so that he would be branded for life. After returning in shame to his father bleeding, beaten and humiliated, his father decided to sell his shop and leave the city. (17)
They both traveled to an underground city built by dwarves so that Pete could be "healed". Humans weren't allowed, but becasue Pete was his fathers' son an exception was made. His father made a deal with the greatest craftsmen of the city of dwarves, and together with his father they've constructed a machine sophisticated enough to simulate the human eye and be attached to the human brain. After the surgery Pete had received his sight back in his right eye, with great improvements such as the ability to look three times further than any ordinary human eye could. But such things did not come without a price. (20)
Knowing his skills, his father did not pay the greatest craftsmen of the city with money, but he paid them with time. He offered the services of his son as a thief to acquire the various materials the craftsmen desired but could not obtain because it was increasingly dangerous for a dwarf to live on the surface. Pete agreed without a choice and began working for them.
After five years of thefts throughout the Dutchy, Pete thought his contract was over. Pete was shocked when the craftsmen insisted on keeping him as their worker, threatening the life of his father to convince him.(25)
He was offered one last job to complete. Steal an artifact from the Dutch himself. THey did not specify what the object did, but they wanted it in exchange for Pete's freedom. Pete accepted. He finally reached the quarters of the Dutch and as he held the metal box the Dutch stopped him. He was waiting for him. He offered him a proposition - switch sides and work for him, take a different box that'll be a decoy and go live with his father as the servants of the Dutch. Knowing that the dwarves would likely ask for more favors in the future, Pete agreed. He delivered the dwarves the fake artifact and went to find his father. Before he could go and rescue his father the object detonated. The whole city began to shake as soldiers from the Dutchy poured in. Pete barely escaped the army, but he knew that the Dutch is not to be trusted.
Pete escaped from the clutches of the Dutchy. He came to the land of supposed freedoms, the Sergrent Coalition. He found the inner fighting and actions preformed in the shadows combined with the lack of the injustices done by the Dutchy made the Sergrent Coalition a perfect home with a land that would treat him fairly and provide ample employment with the current situation in the congress.
Pete establishe dhimself in the Coalition, gaining notoriety and connections with fences and locals in almost every single city-state in the Coatlition.
Race: Human
Age: 34
Class: Thief
Specialization: Shadow thief
Gear: A tough leather vest under his clothes, able to brush off most slashes of a sword, though a strong thrust would penetrate the leather easily. A set of black clothes consisting of a robe with a hood ,tight pants and a belt. A pair of leather shoes, designed to make as little noise as possible.
A small 13 centimeters (~5 inch) steel dagger.
A short bow 70 centimeters (~30 inches) long hangs on his back in a special leather open bag, so that the bow could be under his clothes, enabling his to hide it while wearing the hood.
A quiver rests next to the bag, in it a dozen metal arrow head arrows.
In a satchel that rests on his belt, three kinds of small compact bombs can be found, usually carrying around five overall. A smoke type bomb, a gas (lethal) type bomb and a flare (flash-bang like) type bomb.
Special gloves for wall climbing (not like spiderman, don't worry. Free style climbing whenever possible).
A mechanical right eye that can see three times better than most normal humans, transplanted into Ereptor due to the loss of his eye. He's able to "zoom in" with it.
100G.
A box of matches.
Appearance: Ereptor stands at 1.83 meters(6 feet), with a left brown eye and a green mechanical right eye, short black hair. He has a horizontal scar over his right eye, a reminder of the surgey he had. He is not very muscular but he is still athletic due to the requirements of his work. He has developed his upper body muscles in order to climb walls faster and better.
Background:
The first thing Pete remembers he saw as a child was a bazzar. He tried to take some apples from a nearby stand, but the person selling them caught him and hit him. Then another child came and paid for the apple, and took him somewhere. (4 year old).
Fast forward two years. THe next clear memory Pete has is the woods. He stands in a clearing with the same child, but even though he himself grew up the child didn't. He recognizes him. This man is his father, a dwarf. Today he teached him how to shoot a bow. (6 year old)
Fast forward to the next piece of memory Pete has. From here on his memory is intact. He finds himself walking the street at day. He bumps into a man and takes his wallet. He doesn't seem to notice.(8 year old)
Pete began his life as a stranded child. The only home he knew was the warmth of his forster father, a kind dwarf craftsman. Pete spent his days taking what he needed from others without their permission. As he grew up and his abilities improved, he tried to help his father. Dealing with a discriminating law, his father had to pay three times the tax other human craftsmen paid becaue he was a dwarf. Pete decided to sneak into the workshops of other craftsmen and take the rest of the tax they would have paid if they were a dwarf. At first Pete was successful, but after a few consequetive nights Pete grew tired and he accidently woke up of of the craftsmen. A fight erupted, and Pete was subdued. The craftsman cut off a finger each from his hands, to make him look more like the dwarf him foster father is(his little finger) and his right eye so that he would be branded for life. After returning in shame to his father bleeding, beaten and humiliated, his father decided to sell his shop and leave the city. (17)
They both traveled to an underground city built by dwarves so that Pete could be "healed". Humans weren't allowed, but becasue Pete was his fathers' son an exception was made. His father made a deal with the greatest craftsmen of the city of dwarves, and together with his father they've constructed a machine sophisticated enough to simulate the human eye and be attached to the human brain. After the surgery Pete had received his sight back in his right eye, with great improvements such as the ability to look three times further than any ordinary human eye could. But such things did not come without a price. (20)
Knowing his skills, his father did not pay the greatest craftsmen of the city with money, but he paid them with time. He offered the services of his son as a thief to acquire the various materials the craftsmen desired but could not obtain because it was increasingly dangerous for a dwarf to live on the surface. Pete agreed without a choice and began working for them.
After five years of thefts throughout the Dutchy, Pete thought his contract was over. Pete was shocked when the craftsmen insisted on keeping him as their worker, threatening the life of his father to convince him.(25)
He was offered one last job to complete. Steal an artifact from the Dutch himself. THey did not specify what the object did, but they wanted it in exchange for Pete's freedom. Pete accepted. He finally reached the quarters of the Dutch and as he held the metal box the Dutch stopped him. He was waiting for him. He offered him a proposition - switch sides and work for him, take a different box that'll be a decoy and go live with his father as the servants of the Dutch. Knowing that the dwarves would likely ask for more favors in the future, Pete agreed. He delivered the dwarves the fake artifact and went to find his father. Before he could go and rescue his father the object detonated. The whole city began to shake as soldiers from the Dutchy poured in. Pete barely escaped the army, but he knew that the Dutch is not to be trusted.
Pete escaped from the clutches of the Dutchy. He came to the land of supposed freedoms, the Sergrent Coalition. He found the inner fighting and actions preformed in the shadows combined with the lack of the injustices done by the Dutchy made the Sergrent Coalition a perfect home with a land that would treat him fairly and provide ample employment with the current situation in the congress.
Pete establishe dhimself in the Coalition, gaining notoriety and connections with fences and locals in almost every single city-state in the Coatlition.
Name: Garrant
Age: 31
Appearance:
Without the green eye or the skull
Class: Thief
Specialization: Assassin/Thief
Race: Human
Backstory: Garrant grew up on the poverty-soaked streets of the poorest city in Roissha, Crystalmoor Barrens. Nestled in the hills this former city which prospered in mining the crystals used to bind and elementals souls until one day the crystals ran out. The workers revolted and rioted in the streets causing countless deaths. After the madness ceased the place became a cesspool of crime and villainy. With no legal income the town became ruled by crime syndicates and scum.
He had to become one of those scum, he had to steal and even kill to survive from a young age. He learnt his wide array of skills through deadly trial and error, meticulous practice and most importantly experiences.
He was cared for by his sister for his first fifteen years but then tragedy struck when she was stricken ill by a mysterious desise and died shortly afterwards. He found himself without any connection to the world and found himself drift further into the Barrens seedy underworld.
Despite the fact that he preferred to work alone, he found himself drifting into one of the more powerful syndicates of his city, becoming embroiled in their politics and treachery.
When he began to accept more dangerous assignments, he began to rise through the ranks and his exploits became well-known to the bosses. One fateful mission however he was forced to kill the owner of the mansion he was invading and the syndicate took this opportunity to take control of him. They gave him an ultimatum, become our assassin or get ratted out.
Garrent begrudgingly accepted and even though he was adept at his craft, amassing large amounts of money as he did so, he was never happy with taking lives.
That is why he left
One day he upped and left, leaving his former life behind, going out to experience what the world had to offer him and become free-lance once more.
During his travels he found himself in (insert city name here) and found himself low on coin once eve. He decided to stop by a nice looking mansion and rob it of all its contents, taking anything of value. He didn't expect what he found however, inside a dark, dingy cell was a small girl, hardly past 20 years old
She reminded him greatly of his lost sister and so took her under his wing, teaching her the tricks of his trade and over the three years they travelled together, he taught her much and they grew closer as a result, he thinks of her as his little sister and would kill or even die to protect her.
They wondered the lands for years, pulling odd jobs and improving their skills until they found themselves in Kharn, ready for another job or even another adventure.
Gear: A custom made, lightweight, plate-leather-cloth hybrid. Cloth covers areas where mobility is required such as the elbows, knees and neck. Leather covers the almost all the other areas, his chest and spine are covered in a easily moveable yet durable metal alloy.
He uses two, twin daggers that fit into two lower back sheaths. On his wrist is his miniature crossbow, used to fire small (often poisoned) darts into the weak spots of enemies.
He also carries a bunch of miscellaneous thief gear such as:
Smoke bombs
Lock-picks
A palm mirror
Several vials of deadly poison
Age: 31
Appearance:
Without the green eye or the skull
Class: Thief
Specialization: Assassin/Thief
Race: Human
Backstory: Garrant grew up on the poverty-soaked streets of the poorest city in Roissha, Crystalmoor Barrens. Nestled in the hills this former city which prospered in mining the crystals used to bind and elementals souls until one day the crystals ran out. The workers revolted and rioted in the streets causing countless deaths. After the madness ceased the place became a cesspool of crime and villainy. With no legal income the town became ruled by crime syndicates and scum.
He had to become one of those scum, he had to steal and even kill to survive from a young age. He learnt his wide array of skills through deadly trial and error, meticulous practice and most importantly experiences.
He was cared for by his sister for his first fifteen years but then tragedy struck when she was stricken ill by a mysterious desise and died shortly afterwards. He found himself without any connection to the world and found himself drift further into the Barrens seedy underworld.
Despite the fact that he preferred to work alone, he found himself drifting into one of the more powerful syndicates of his city, becoming embroiled in their politics and treachery.
When he began to accept more dangerous assignments, he began to rise through the ranks and his exploits became well-known to the bosses. One fateful mission however he was forced to kill the owner of the mansion he was invading and the syndicate took this opportunity to take control of him. They gave him an ultimatum, become our assassin or get ratted out.
Garrent begrudgingly accepted and even though he was adept at his craft, amassing large amounts of money as he did so, he was never happy with taking lives.
That is why he left
One day he upped and left, leaving his former life behind, going out to experience what the world had to offer him and become free-lance once more.
During his travels he found himself in (insert city name here) and found himself low on coin once eve. He decided to stop by a nice looking mansion and rob it of all its contents, taking anything of value. He didn't expect what he found however, inside a dark, dingy cell was a small girl, hardly past 20 years old
She reminded him greatly of his lost sister and so took her under his wing, teaching her the tricks of his trade and over the three years they travelled together, he taught her much and they grew closer as a result, he thinks of her as his little sister and would kill or even die to protect her.
They wondered the lands for years, pulling odd jobs and improving their skills until they found themselves in Kharn, ready for another job or even another adventure.
Gear: A custom made, lightweight, plate-leather-cloth hybrid. Cloth covers areas where mobility is required such as the elbows, knees and neck. Leather covers the almost all the other areas, his chest and spine are covered in a easily moveable yet durable metal alloy.
He uses two, twin daggers that fit into two lower back sheaths. On his wrist is his miniature crossbow, used to fire small (often poisoned) darts into the weak spots of enemies.
He also carries a bunch of miscellaneous thief gear such as:
Smoke bombs
Lock-picks
A palm mirror
Several vials of deadly poison
Name: Garth
Race: Elf
Age: Around 35
Class: Thief
Specialization: Smoothtalker
Gear: Garth dons an outfit of fine silks and linen, a casual noble's outfit weren't it for the sturdy hard high quality leather protective pads strapped under it- making his outfit more of something in the style of light armor. The clothing is dyed with some very expensive colors.
Garth carries a small but fine knife in his exquisite left boot, but is otherwise unarmed save for his beautifully crafted crossbow that he often carries slung over his back in its leather strap.
Save for his costly clothes and armaments his possessions are scarce- he carries a purse of 100 Gold coins, a skin of wine, his harp and a few books to read on boring nights.
Appearance: Shorter than most, and of nothing special when it comes to muscle, Garth still manages to be dashing. He has beautiful long auburn hair and a pair of glimmering emerald eyes in his well-shaped, rather narrow face. His skin is very smooth, his hair is always wellkept, since Garth takes great pride in his beauty care and hygiene. His left eyebrow, nose and ears are pierced and fitted with heavy gold rings and jewelry.
His complexion is a few shades darker than the plain and pale elf standard, it makes for a rather special contrast when Garth bares his set of white pointy teeth in a smile.
Background: Garth's first memories appear quite late in his life. As no more than a child he was found by a band of actors and artists traveling between the free cities. He lay next to the slewn bodies of his kin and a burnt out cart that had been loted by bandits. His headwound was severe, but a traveling priest nursed the young Garth back to full health. His memory prior to the blunt trauma to his head is unfortunately close to nothing.
His personality being but a clean sheet, he began anew. Some of the artists took him in, and the young boy soon realized he had a gift for acting and a natural charisma. On the stage as well as away from it.
For a few years he lived a hard but merry life. The life of as a traveling artist was never easy. Yet it was where he wanted to be. The dream soon came crashing down around him, however.
Performing a rather authorative-criticizing street play in The Speaker's City, the band of performers soon learned it was not a clever thing to jest and mock the council in their city of residence- no matter how much the crowd had cheered and laughed.
Garth was one of those who managed to escape imprisonment, but now all his friends were gone from his life. Now a young man, he found himself alone in the great city and he felt a need to get away. It was not long before he enlisted as a crewman on one of the merchant ships in the docks.
His escape plan took a dramitc turn when a vessel flying a pirate flag caught the cargo ship short off the coast. Most of the crew were thrown to the sharks, but Garth, since he was young and able, was given a choice to join the pirates in place of a crewman who had died in the attack. The merchant ship's cargo of spirit crystals and other supplies was seized and the vessel put to the torch. A new life began for the young elf.
In the first few encounters he realized he was not meant to be a fighter, even if he could handle a crossbow and the ship's elemental cannons well enough. He set out to become skilled in navigation and tactics instead. He learned to single out weaknesses in formations and ships alike. His skills were quickly noted by the commander of the ship, and within a year with the merry band he had risen in status and was named first mate. He pierced his ears and face and filled the holes with rings of gold, he picked up playing a harp as well as learned many a pirate song. For a time he felt just as home as he had felt with the actors.
He handled the men well, and was trusted and well liked. His position was not without its dangers- many yearned to take his place on the ship. Garth was always one step ahead, however, and many a golddigger would find themselves found out with loot reserved for the captain in their trunks, or with planted evidence of planned mutiny. All while Garth himself could be seen up on deck, handling the rudder, whisteling cheerfully.
This was where he truly excelled. The captains and even the ships changed over the years, but Garth remained. The vessels he served on went to history as some of the most dreaded on the Sergret seas. It was said he had been captured by the Magnus Duchy fleet once and after the bloody battle been brought before the duke. Then, it was said, after some time, that the two men had parted as friends. However, that friendship was likely to have been a short-lived one, as the duke had found the prettiest of his daughters missing after the short visit. Weeks later it was said she had been ransomed back to her father, but she had then been tainted by her time at sea, robbed of her maidenhood and her ladylike ways both- though she had supposedly never been heard complaining about her time at sea.
The success went to Garth's head, however- his robbing schemes became more daring and careless with every month. The men closest to him claimed they could see madness and obsession burn in his eyes. Unrest grew among his men, who felt they could no longer trust their commander as before. The ship he was currently serving at had more gold in the cargo than the crew could ever hope to spend, yet he demanded that they followed up on every scam and fraud and robbery his mind gave birth to- disregarding the risks and lately human lives as well. Eventually the crew rebelled and put Garth in a small boat with oars, with only a small amount of food and water as well as limited personal belongings. For years he had lived as a king of the sea, yet now he had nothing.
After a day and a night he reached land. Alone and fearing for his life he decided to swap identity and lay low for a while- avoiding any and all authorities he pass by.
Race: Elf
Age: Around 35
Class: Thief
Specialization: Smoothtalker
Gear: Garth dons an outfit of fine silks and linen, a casual noble's outfit weren't it for the sturdy hard high quality leather protective pads strapped under it- making his outfit more of something in the style of light armor. The clothing is dyed with some very expensive colors.
Garth carries a small but fine knife in his exquisite left boot, but is otherwise unarmed save for his beautifully crafted crossbow that he often carries slung over his back in its leather strap.
Save for his costly clothes and armaments his possessions are scarce- he carries a purse of 100 Gold coins, a skin of wine, his harp and a few books to read on boring nights.
Appearance: Shorter than most, and of nothing special when it comes to muscle, Garth still manages to be dashing. He has beautiful long auburn hair and a pair of glimmering emerald eyes in his well-shaped, rather narrow face. His skin is very smooth, his hair is always wellkept, since Garth takes great pride in his beauty care and hygiene. His left eyebrow, nose and ears are pierced and fitted with heavy gold rings and jewelry.
His complexion is a few shades darker than the plain and pale elf standard, it makes for a rather special contrast when Garth bares his set of white pointy teeth in a smile.
Background: Garth's first memories appear quite late in his life. As no more than a child he was found by a band of actors and artists traveling between the free cities. He lay next to the slewn bodies of his kin and a burnt out cart that had been loted by bandits. His headwound was severe, but a traveling priest nursed the young Garth back to full health. His memory prior to the blunt trauma to his head is unfortunately close to nothing.
His personality being but a clean sheet, he began anew. Some of the artists took him in, and the young boy soon realized he had a gift for acting and a natural charisma. On the stage as well as away from it.
For a few years he lived a hard but merry life. The life of as a traveling artist was never easy. Yet it was where he wanted to be. The dream soon came crashing down around him, however.
Performing a rather authorative-criticizing street play in The Speaker's City, the band of performers soon learned it was not a clever thing to jest and mock the council in their city of residence- no matter how much the crowd had cheered and laughed.
Garth was one of those who managed to escape imprisonment, but now all his friends were gone from his life. Now a young man, he found himself alone in the great city and he felt a need to get away. It was not long before he enlisted as a crewman on one of the merchant ships in the docks.
His escape plan took a dramitc turn when a vessel flying a pirate flag caught the cargo ship short off the coast. Most of the crew were thrown to the sharks, but Garth, since he was young and able, was given a choice to join the pirates in place of a crewman who had died in the attack. The merchant ship's cargo of spirit crystals and other supplies was seized and the vessel put to the torch. A new life began for the young elf.
In the first few encounters he realized he was not meant to be a fighter, even if he could handle a crossbow and the ship's elemental cannons well enough. He set out to become skilled in navigation and tactics instead. He learned to single out weaknesses in formations and ships alike. His skills were quickly noted by the commander of the ship, and within a year with the merry band he had risen in status and was named first mate. He pierced his ears and face and filled the holes with rings of gold, he picked up playing a harp as well as learned many a pirate song. For a time he felt just as home as he had felt with the actors.
He handled the men well, and was trusted and well liked. His position was not without its dangers- many yearned to take his place on the ship. Garth was always one step ahead, however, and many a golddigger would find themselves found out with loot reserved for the captain in their trunks, or with planted evidence of planned mutiny. All while Garth himself could be seen up on deck, handling the rudder, whisteling cheerfully.
This was where he truly excelled. The captains and even the ships changed over the years, but Garth remained. The vessels he served on went to history as some of the most dreaded on the Sergret seas. It was said he had been captured by the Magnus Duchy fleet once and after the bloody battle been brought before the duke. Then, it was said, after some time, that the two men had parted as friends. However, that friendship was likely to have been a short-lived one, as the duke had found the prettiest of his daughters missing after the short visit. Weeks later it was said she had been ransomed back to her father, but she had then been tainted by her time at sea, robbed of her maidenhood and her ladylike ways both- though she had supposedly never been heard complaining about her time at sea.
The success went to Garth's head, however- his robbing schemes became more daring and careless with every month. The men closest to him claimed they could see madness and obsession burn in his eyes. Unrest grew among his men, who felt they could no longer trust their commander as before. The ship he was currently serving at had more gold in the cargo than the crew could ever hope to spend, yet he demanded that they followed up on every scam and fraud and robbery his mind gave birth to- disregarding the risks and lately human lives as well. Eventually the crew rebelled and put Garth in a small boat with oars, with only a small amount of food and water as well as limited personal belongings. For years he had lived as a king of the sea, yet now he had nothing.
After a day and a night he reached land. Alone and fearing for his life he decided to swap identity and lay low for a while- avoiding any and all authorities he pass by.
Name: idwal (which means lord of the wall)
race: human
age: 38
class: warrior
specialisation: defender
gear: a roman like shield which is a very polished shiny grey surface, so that he can blind archers, or other things with glare, some chain mail armour and 100 gold.
appearance: idwal is build like a rugby player, tall and muscular. He normally is wearing his armour no matter what task he is doing in order to continue building up his endurance. he has shaven black hair, this is to keep it from getting caught in his armour and out of his face and he has brown eyes.
background: idwal was never good at using a weapon but he always wanted to be a warrior and fight for his town, he always lost fights till one day during a local tournament he dropped his sword leaving him with just a shield. He found that when he concentrated on his shield he was able to block every attack thrown at him, after his opponent tiered him self idwal was able to ram his opponent out of the ring, he then used this tactic for every fight winning the tournament.
He then had to train himself in using a shield for combat, even going as far and going hunting with just his shield, after years idwal had made the perfect shield for himself and has mastered the art of the shield. he now travels the land searching for work as a mercenary or a teacher in using a shield.
race: human
age: 38
class: warrior
specialisation: defender
gear: a roman like shield which is a very polished shiny grey surface, so that he can blind archers, or other things with glare, some chain mail armour and 100 gold.
appearance: idwal is build like a rugby player, tall and muscular. He normally is wearing his armour no matter what task he is doing in order to continue building up his endurance. he has shaven black hair, this is to keep it from getting caught in his armour and out of his face and he has brown eyes.
background: idwal was never good at using a weapon but he always wanted to be a warrior and fight for his town, he always lost fights till one day during a local tournament he dropped his sword leaving him with just a shield. He found that when he concentrated on his shield he was able to block every attack thrown at him, after his opponent tiered him self idwal was able to ram his opponent out of the ring, he then used this tactic for every fight winning the tournament.
He then had to train himself in using a shield for combat, even going as far and going hunting with just his shield, after years idwal had made the perfect shield for himself and has mastered the art of the shield. he now travels the land searching for work as a mercenary or a teacher in using a shield.
Name: Kinglet
Age: 23
Appearance: Kinglet is a lithe girl. She has little muscle to speak of, but makes up for it with dexterity and quickness. Her stamina is quite impressive as well, and that is good, as Kinglet runs alot. Away form things, mostly, seeing as she's a thief in the making and has had to put her endurance to test more than just once.
Black, smooth hair frames a slim pale face, which is strewn with subtle, dark freckles on her nose and cheeks. Her eyes are a very light blue--almost gray, but not quite. They're observing and quick, constantly on the move from this object to this one and never settling anywhere for long.
Class: Thief / mold-me
Specialization: Pending
Race: Human
Backstory: Kinglet is a pebble rolling downhill. Well. Bouncing downhill actually, as she's never quite lost her spirit and keeps an iron grip on her will to move on. Ill luck has been chasing her since she was born, first starting with a mother that wanted money so bad she sold her 10 year old daughter, and getting gradually worse from there. Before then she'd been rather well off. She received education, had a solid roof over her head and a full stomach.
It didn't necessarily turn out all bad with her new 'parents'. She just ended up having to work for her upkeep, which had been the reason for the purchase in the first place. Her talents had shone through at some point; her quickness, balance and the ability to pick up on things fast. All that was rolled together and she was turned into a street performer. Juggling, dancing, walking the rope--she entertained the masses at a young age and she actually enjoyed it.
Then her benefactors were shaken up for cheating the crowds of money in the games they provided, and all three of them were supposed to lose their collective heads. But only two rolled that day.
Before the executioner got around to Kinglet's slim neck, he passed out from too much drink**. He didn't even manage to chop her mother's head off properly the first try around. It needed four hacks. A messy business. I suppose that would mean she was graced with a wee of luck after all. Her execution was pospounded and she was brought back to the cell. On the way there the guards understimated the lithe little girl and she managed to escape. The details to what happened that day remain a secret and she hasn't yet told anyone.
Of course Kinglet didn't quite know what to do with her new found freedom. She huffed and puffed, wandered around the city for a while (avoiding capture quite nicely) until deciding to go back to the sprawling hub of Alisco; the town where her parents sold her. She did so, but they were nowhere to be found. Kinglet was crestfallen, though she quickly decided that sitting in the nearest gutter crying her eyes out was no solution. So she turned to do whatever she could to survive, sometimes by performing, sometimes by nicking things from the decent folks that seem to have too much to begin with.
Though admitely she wasn't the best at it. And when she tried to break into a house for the first time in her life, that quickly ended with her captured and--once again--enslaved. This time by a burly, stinking mansion lord. The time she spent in that mansion could easily be called the worst time of her life. Once again she does not talk about what happened; she'd rather brag about how she got out and do so for hours. Or, well, was helped out. Well. Busted out. Carried out? She doesn't REALLY remember, but Kinglet likes to pretend.
One thing is for certain though. If luck hadn't graced her with a silver lining by the name of Garrant, she might have even lost her spirit.
He found her in the dark halls of the mansion, nursed her back to something that passed as health, and took the little thief under his wings. For what its worth he saved her life, and Kinglet's gratefulness for that knows no bounds. She'd rather go back to the chopping board than see any harm come to him.
Gear: The clothes on her back and a dagger. Trusty old, well used thing. For cutting, of course. Cutting food, mostly. Sometimes wood too, which is greatly frowned upon since it dulled the blade. Along with assorted thieves tools (lockpicks and a rope, actually). Her clothing is a selection of earth colored to midnight blue, depending on whether she is out at night, or strolling during the day. They have little to no armor value to them, aside from a few sewn in patches of leather. She does wear arm and wrist guards though, and a pair of solid gloves. Her boots are soft and worn, and are wrapped all the way up to her knees.
**many real executioners tended to get drunk before carrying out their duty. I like to carry that piece of realism into settings like these, I hope you don't mind, GM.
Age: 23
Appearance: Kinglet is a lithe girl. She has little muscle to speak of, but makes up for it with dexterity and quickness. Her stamina is quite impressive as well, and that is good, as Kinglet runs alot. Away form things, mostly, seeing as she's a thief in the making and has had to put her endurance to test more than just once.
Black, smooth hair frames a slim pale face, which is strewn with subtle, dark freckles on her nose and cheeks. Her eyes are a very light blue--almost gray, but not quite. They're observing and quick, constantly on the move from this object to this one and never settling anywhere for long.
Class: Thief / mold-me
Specialization: Pending
Race: Human
Backstory: Kinglet is a pebble rolling downhill. Well. Bouncing downhill actually, as she's never quite lost her spirit and keeps an iron grip on her will to move on. Ill luck has been chasing her since she was born, first starting with a mother that wanted money so bad she sold her 10 year old daughter, and getting gradually worse from there. Before then she'd been rather well off. She received education, had a solid roof over her head and a full stomach.
It didn't necessarily turn out all bad with her new 'parents'. She just ended up having to work for her upkeep, which had been the reason for the purchase in the first place. Her talents had shone through at some point; her quickness, balance and the ability to pick up on things fast. All that was rolled together and she was turned into a street performer. Juggling, dancing, walking the rope--she entertained the masses at a young age and she actually enjoyed it.
Then her benefactors were shaken up for cheating the crowds of money in the games they provided, and all three of them were supposed to lose their collective heads. But only two rolled that day.
Before the executioner got around to Kinglet's slim neck, he passed out from too much drink**. He didn't even manage to chop her mother's head off properly the first try around. It needed four hacks. A messy business. I suppose that would mean she was graced with a wee of luck after all. Her execution was pospounded and she was brought back to the cell. On the way there the guards understimated the lithe little girl and she managed to escape. The details to what happened that day remain a secret and she hasn't yet told anyone.
Of course Kinglet didn't quite know what to do with her new found freedom. She huffed and puffed, wandered around the city for a while (avoiding capture quite nicely) until deciding to go back to the sprawling hub of Alisco; the town where her parents sold her. She did so, but they were nowhere to be found. Kinglet was crestfallen, though she quickly decided that sitting in the nearest gutter crying her eyes out was no solution. So she turned to do whatever she could to survive, sometimes by performing, sometimes by nicking things from the decent folks that seem to have too much to begin with.
Though admitely she wasn't the best at it. And when she tried to break into a house for the first time in her life, that quickly ended with her captured and--once again--enslaved. This time by a burly, stinking mansion lord. The time she spent in that mansion could easily be called the worst time of her life. Once again she does not talk about what happened; she'd rather brag about how she got out and do so for hours. Or, well, was helped out. Well. Busted out. Carried out? She doesn't REALLY remember, but Kinglet likes to pretend.
One thing is for certain though. If luck hadn't graced her with a silver lining by the name of Garrant, she might have even lost her spirit.
He found her in the dark halls of the mansion, nursed her back to something that passed as health, and took the little thief under his wings. For what its worth he saved her life, and Kinglet's gratefulness for that knows no bounds. She'd rather go back to the chopping board than see any harm come to him.
Gear: The clothes on her back and a dagger. Trusty old, well used thing. For cutting, of course. Cutting food, mostly. Sometimes wood too, which is greatly frowned upon since it dulled the blade. Along with assorted thieves tools (lockpicks and a rope, actually). Her clothing is a selection of earth colored to midnight blue, depending on whether she is out at night, or strolling during the day. They have little to no armor value to them, aside from a few sewn in patches of leather. She does wear arm and wrist guards though, and a pair of solid gloves. Her boots are soft and worn, and are wrapped all the way up to her knees.
**many real executioners tended to get drunk before carrying out their duty. I like to carry that piece of realism into settings like these, I hope you don't mind, GM.
Name: Amurin
Age: 37
Race: Elf
Class: Warrior
Specialization: Tempest
Appearance: A tall, highly athletic individual, Amurin's build can be described as slender, his figure comprised of wiry muscle that, while far from weak in appearance, has led many to underestimate his fighting ability. He has fair skin like most elves, though has covered his body in numerous tattoos of varying origins, designs and colors, his body having become something of a canvas for countless artists, their work proudly on display alongside numerous scars and scraps.
His hair is light blonde that is worn at a medium length and kept out of his eyes with a black headband, complemented by a pair of green eyes. He also has a short, well-trimmed goatee, a strange sight consider the rarity of facial hair amongst his kind.
Age: 37
Race: Elf
Class: Warrior
Specialization: Tempest
Appearance: A tall, highly athletic individual, Amurin's build can be described as slender, his figure comprised of wiry muscle that, while far from weak in appearance, has led many to underestimate his fighting ability. He has fair skin like most elves, though has covered his body in numerous tattoos of varying origins, designs and colors, his body having become something of a canvas for countless artists, their work proudly on display alongside numerous scars and scraps.
His hair is light blonde that is worn at a medium length and kept out of his eyes with a black headband, complemented by a pair of green eyes. He also has a short, well-trimmed goatee, a strange sight consider the rarity of facial hair amongst his kind.
Name: Jethro Gladstone
Race: Human
Age: 25
Class: Priest
Specialization: Paladin
Gear: Jethro wears a beige shirt and dark grey pants, as well as leather gloves and boots. His armour consists of a chain-mail shirt, a slightly beat-up breastplate, and a simple, open-faced helmet. He wields a mace in one hand, holds a small shield in the other, and carries several small javelins in a quiver on his back. He also carries two torches, 100 G, and a length of rope.
Appearance: Jethro is a tall, lanky fellow, with a relatively muscular build. He has short, messy brown hair, dark blue eyes, and an almost triangular chin. The amount of time he has spent outside has given him a rather healthy tan.
Background: Jethro was born and raised in a small coastal town. He worked on a boat as a fisherman for several years, and loved every minute of it, but it would not last.
One day, as he and his shipmates were sailing back to port, the boat loaded with fish, they were attacked by pirates. Jethro was one of the few who survived the raid, but the ship was beyond saving, barely managing the journey home before completely falling apart, and the cargo was lost.
Without anything to sell, Jethro and the remaining crew couldn't afford even a rowboat, and there were very few vessels around that needed extra hands. As a result, they found themselves jobless.
Out of options, Jethro decided to leave the town he'd lived in all his life and try to find work elsewhere. Once he had learned a bit of curative magic from the local preacher and, after a considerable amount of haggling, acquired some weapons and armour, Jethro set off on his journey.
Race: Human
Age: 25
Class: Priest
Specialization: Paladin
Gear: Jethro wears a beige shirt and dark grey pants, as well as leather gloves and boots. His armour consists of a chain-mail shirt, a slightly beat-up breastplate, and a simple, open-faced helmet. He wields a mace in one hand, holds a small shield in the other, and carries several small javelins in a quiver on his back. He also carries two torches, 100 G, and a length of rope.
Appearance: Jethro is a tall, lanky fellow, with a relatively muscular build. He has short, messy brown hair, dark blue eyes, and an almost triangular chin. The amount of time he has spent outside has given him a rather healthy tan.
Background: Jethro was born and raised in a small coastal town. He worked on a boat as a fisherman for several years, and loved every minute of it, but it would not last.
One day, as he and his shipmates were sailing back to port, the boat loaded with fish, they were attacked by pirates. Jethro was one of the few who survived the raid, but the ship was beyond saving, barely managing the journey home before completely falling apart, and the cargo was lost.
Without anything to sell, Jethro and the remaining crew couldn't afford even a rowboat, and there were very few vessels around that needed extra hands. As a result, they found themselves jobless.
Out of options, Jethro decided to leave the town he'd lived in all his life and try to find work elsewhere. Once he had learned a bit of curative magic from the local preacher and, after a considerable amount of haggling, acquired some weapons and armour, Jethro set off on his journey.
Name: Talrien Vandiir
Age: 73
Race: Elf
Class: Mage
Specialization: Battle Mage
Gear: Talrien wears deep green robes, stained with years of travel across the land. Small tears and holes are haphazardly patched up by himself and a hood is kept up to cover his face at most time. Underneath the robes he keeps a slightly curved elven longsword, engraved with the runes of his people it gleams a beautiful silver under light. For protection he wears a hardened leather chestplate to help deflect incoming blows while not losing out too much on mobility. He also wears a large belt around his waist, covered in pouches and other pockets. It is there that he keeps a few small trinkets and personal keepsakes; an amulet from a time long forgotten that he can't stand to part with, a handful of matches scraps of torn cloth to use as improvised bandages, a pouch full of small pebbles, and roughly 80 gold pieces.
Appearance: Talrien is somewhat tall. With a toned muscular build to fit his thin body. He has crystal blue eyes and light brown hair which is kept in a ponytail that runs down his robes to the center of his back. His eyes change when channeling his magic however, the iris takes over his pupil and the colour goes from a light crystal blue to a jade green that seems to pulse with an aggresive energy.
Background: Talrien was born in the forests of the Conclave within a tribe of his kin. The world of magitek was on the rise slowly but had not quite reached his home. After the wars broke out and the elemtnals began to rise against the people of Roissha the village elder had tried to reason with angry elementals nearby. To make them understand that this small forest dwelling village was no threat. There were those that did not see the elders way, and even though the elder had managed to subdue them through peace a group of young, brash elven warriors took arms against nature itself. Killing a handful before the land fought back with a ferocity that was thought impossible. The elementals slaughtered the warriors with ease then razed the village. Talrien was ushered away with his mother and older sister while his father tried to help hold the elementals back.
The three managed to escape to a nearby settlement where the lived for a few years. Talrien joined in the local militia and got a some military training while learning to harness his innate magical skills from. This led to his unique form of combat, fusing spells into his blade and channeling magic to augment his defense in combat.
Meanwhile the elemental war was escalating. One day off on a long patrol to a neighboring town, they attacked the town his mother and sister were in. When he and the others returned they found that nothing was left. Talrien ran to his house where there was no sign of his family, only the silver amulet that once belonged to his mother. He grabbed it and left. Since then he's been wandering the lands as a sellsword, honing his skills and eradicating and hostile elementals he could find.
Despite all this he maintains a positive demeanor in most situations, and has a generally positive view of the world.
Age: 73
Race: Elf
Class: Mage
Specialization: Battle Mage
Gear: Talrien wears deep green robes, stained with years of travel across the land. Small tears and holes are haphazardly patched up by himself and a hood is kept up to cover his face at most time. Underneath the robes he keeps a slightly curved elven longsword, engraved with the runes of his people it gleams a beautiful silver under light. For protection he wears a hardened leather chestplate to help deflect incoming blows while not losing out too much on mobility. He also wears a large belt around his waist, covered in pouches and other pockets. It is there that he keeps a few small trinkets and personal keepsakes; an amulet from a time long forgotten that he can't stand to part with, a handful of matches scraps of torn cloth to use as improvised bandages, a pouch full of small pebbles, and roughly 80 gold pieces.
Appearance: Talrien is somewhat tall. With a toned muscular build to fit his thin body. He has crystal blue eyes and light brown hair which is kept in a ponytail that runs down his robes to the center of his back. His eyes change when channeling his magic however, the iris takes over his pupil and the colour goes from a light crystal blue to a jade green that seems to pulse with an aggresive energy.
Background: Talrien was born in the forests of the Conclave within a tribe of his kin. The world of magitek was on the rise slowly but had not quite reached his home. After the wars broke out and the elemtnals began to rise against the people of Roissha the village elder had tried to reason with angry elementals nearby. To make them understand that this small forest dwelling village was no threat. There were those that did not see the elders way, and even though the elder had managed to subdue them through peace a group of young, brash elven warriors took arms against nature itself. Killing a handful before the land fought back with a ferocity that was thought impossible. The elementals slaughtered the warriors with ease then razed the village. Talrien was ushered away with his mother and older sister while his father tried to help hold the elementals back.
The three managed to escape to a nearby settlement where the lived for a few years. Talrien joined in the local militia and got a some military training while learning to harness his innate magical skills from. This led to his unique form of combat, fusing spells into his blade and channeling magic to augment his defense in combat.
Meanwhile the elemental war was escalating. One day off on a long patrol to a neighboring town, they attacked the town his mother and sister were in. When he and the others returned they found that nothing was left. Talrien ran to his house where there was no sign of his family, only the silver amulet that once belonged to his mother. He grabbed it and left. Since then he's been wandering the lands as a sellsword, honing his skills and eradicating and hostile elementals he could find.
Despite all this he maintains a positive demeanor in most situations, and has a generally positive view of the world.
Name: Isaac
Race: Human
Age: 24
Class: Mage
Specialization: Artificer
Gear: Isaac wears dark colored robes with a crest he designed as a teenager, he has a small magitek pistol (fire), his smithing tools, and for when things get to close he has a long sword (just in case his fists don't work)
Three Torches, 100g, Three Catalyst Crystals
Appearance: Young and athletic, Isaac has blonde hair that while cut short in the front is long in the back, long enough to have a pony-tail that reaches just below his neck, his eyes are piercing blue and He has a distinctive scar just below his right eye. He is open to most ideas and has a fierceness about him that can make him a little impulsive, especially when it comes to his friends.
Background: Isaac and his family grew up in a remote town a fair distance from where he resides now (Kharn), the village had very few non dwarves but they accepted any and all who came. From a young age Isaac was always taking things apart, learning what made them "tick" and one day his talent was finally noticed by one of the dwarves. A young dwarf named Eovik saw Isaac not for what he was, but for what he could be, Eovik asked to teach Isaac, to have him train under him. Isaacs's parents reluctantly agreed after days of countless visits from young dwarf. Isaac spent 9 long years under Eovik's tutelage and became an artificer. He learned that; "To train the body you must also train the mind" After Isaac was finished his training he bid farewell to his family and to the friends he had made so he could travel across Roissha.
Race: Human
Age: 24
Class: Mage
Specialization: Artificer
Gear: Isaac wears dark colored robes with a crest he designed as a teenager, he has a small magitek pistol (fire), his smithing tools, and for when things get to close he has a long sword (just in case his fists don't work)
Three Torches, 100g, Three Catalyst Crystals
Appearance: Young and athletic, Isaac has blonde hair that while cut short in the front is long in the back, long enough to have a pony-tail that reaches just below his neck, his eyes are piercing blue and He has a distinctive scar just below his right eye. He is open to most ideas and has a fierceness about him that can make him a little impulsive, especially when it comes to his friends.
Background: Isaac and his family grew up in a remote town a fair distance from where he resides now (Kharn), the village had very few non dwarves but they accepted any and all who came. From a young age Isaac was always taking things apart, learning what made them "tick" and one day his talent was finally noticed by one of the dwarves. A young dwarf named Eovik saw Isaac not for what he was, but for what he could be, Eovik asked to teach Isaac, to have him train under him. Isaacs's parents reluctantly agreed after days of countless visits from young dwarf. Isaac spent 9 long years under Eovik's tutelage and became an artificer. He learned that; "To train the body you must also train the mind" After Isaac was finished his training he bid farewell to his family and to the friends he had made so he could travel across Roissha.
Hrmm I don't remember copying all that for my OP, interesting...Oh well I guess it works out XD
Sorry if this confuses anyone, it was written on little sleep and was meant to be two separate posts regarding the town.
Jethro gave a polite nod to the guard and walked through the barricade, his mace and shield hanging over his shoulder and his helmet tucked under his arm. As he walked, he grew increasingly unsettled by the strange architecture. He put on his helmet, warily eyeing the buildings as he continued forward.
Idwal, wearing all his armour and with his shield equipped, walked up to Jethro saying 'listen mate, the building ain't gone eat you, so stop eyeing it like it is a hungry looking dragon' he then pulled out the note he got from his pocket, 'I don't suppose you got a note like this two, because I think who ever his handing out these notes must be passing them out to everyone, as nearly no one I have met so far has taken a shield expert seriously.'
Pete continues to lower his head and avoid eye contact. Nobody needs to know of his presence. I am in enemy territory Pete began walking towards the slums of the town. mingling with the lowlife always yields results Pete continued on walking into the poorer areas of the city, slowly houses become smaller and more crowded and the pavement is replaced with dirt.
Pete stops when he smells the smell of ale in the air. He raises his head and finds himself a few meters away from a local Pub. the limping dragon it is Pete walked into the pub and sits at the corner of the room.
Without the patrons noticing him, Pete began scouting them. one of them should work in the guild Pete spotted a young boy walking about with a yellow ribbon on his left shoulder.
a fledgling novice
Pete stops when he smells the smell of ale in the air. He raises his head and finds himself a few meters away from a local Pub. the limping dragon it is Pete walked into the pub and sits at the corner of the room.
Without the patrons noticing him, Pete began scouting them. one of them should work in the guild Pete spotted a young boy walking about with a yellow ribbon on his left shoulder.
a fledgling novice
This smells like a trap. Why am I not 20 miles away from this dump already?
Garth had suffered a trespasser in his room the other night. He had been drinking heavily, for sure, but the note had been real. Hadn't it? Maybe I am going crazy after all, like the men on the ship thought?
Garth took sime time to reflect upon his doubtful mental health while gazing through a nearby shop window- scanning the reflection in the glass for suspicious people around him. The memory of the mutiny was still fresh in his mind. Garth had always been considered resourceful, by himself and others, yet since he stranded he had been consumed by a gloomy melancholy. You have lost your will, silly man.
Garth was hungover. He had spent his nights drinking heavily at inns the entire last week, drinking up what gold he had had left. The Magnus' men may very well be after me already, he thought. He would certainly be hanged publically for piracy. It was a calm statement, yet if news had spread of him being loose within the duchy it was very likely to become a true one as well. Garth had spent the night contemplating if he should even care in the first place. In the end he had been disgusted with himself- What had happened to the mighty pirate, scoundrel and manipulator that was Garth of the Seas? Was he truly nothing without a ship's deck beneath his feet? No. The Garth in Garth's mind would laugh when the gods posed him a challenge, spit in their face and carry on with increased determination.
When Garth's rowing boat had hit land he had had no idea where he was. It had felt as if he was dreaming. Yet somehow he had found a small farm in the black of night and stolen a horse there. Not a day later he had reached this city. Garth had quickly sold the horse. That was five days ago, and most of his money had since been spent on bad tavern wine. He watched the miserable character reflected in the store window. "That's not me", Garth mumbled. Yet it was.
His face was dirty, his clothes had stains of wine and mud all over. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced as he felt the stickyness of it. He would need to find an inn with the proper facilities. He started walking.
The Limping Dragon. The name and the silly sign above the door had Garth smirking briefly. It wasn't located in the in the best part of town, but in his current state Garth would stand out like a crow among doves in any finer establishment.It will have to do, he figured. The tavern was not crowded at this time a day. There was a few men, but none looked to be Duchy guards or agents. Except... In front of Garth stood a man. He too was watching the room. He looked dangerous and it had been something cat-like about the way the man moved. Someone to be watched to be sure. Some thief, with any luck, not a duchy agent, Garth hoped.
"'Scuse me", Garth said as he passed. The man had an ordinary face, which made his mecanical eye stand out a great deal more. Thankfully, the man didn't give Garth more than a short look, seemingly more interested with a young man sitting in a corner drinking by himself.
Garth made his way up to the tavern bar and snapped his fingers at the inkeep.
"A room and some hot water, and I would be pleased, master Dragon", Garth called out, his lips baring his pointy white teeth in a broad grin. Garth had been told his narrow eyes and pointy ears along with his fang-like teeth gave him an almost predatory appearance when smiling. After that he had given effort to smile as often as he could.
The man behind the bar gave him a suspicious look, but his fate lit up as Garth started counting up coin and putting it on the bartable.
At least he would look presentable tonight, and this 'job' the note had spoken of might very well be a way out of this poor excuse of a town.
Garth had suffered a trespasser in his room the other night. He had been drinking heavily, for sure, but the note had been real. Hadn't it? Maybe I am going crazy after all, like the men on the ship thought?
Garth took sime time to reflect upon his doubtful mental health while gazing through a nearby shop window- scanning the reflection in the glass for suspicious people around him. The memory of the mutiny was still fresh in his mind. Garth had always been considered resourceful, by himself and others, yet since he stranded he had been consumed by a gloomy melancholy. You have lost your will, silly man.
Garth was hungover. He had spent his nights drinking heavily at inns the entire last week, drinking up what gold he had had left. The Magnus' men may very well be after me already, he thought. He would certainly be hanged publically for piracy. It was a calm statement, yet if news had spread of him being loose within the duchy it was very likely to become a true one as well. Garth had spent the night contemplating if he should even care in the first place. In the end he had been disgusted with himself- What had happened to the mighty pirate, scoundrel and manipulator that was Garth of the Seas? Was he truly nothing without a ship's deck beneath his feet? No. The Garth in Garth's mind would laugh when the gods posed him a challenge, spit in their face and carry on with increased determination.
When Garth's rowing boat had hit land he had had no idea where he was. It had felt as if he was dreaming. Yet somehow he had found a small farm in the black of night and stolen a horse there. Not a day later he had reached this city. Garth had quickly sold the horse. That was five days ago, and most of his money had since been spent on bad tavern wine. He watched the miserable character reflected in the store window. "That's not me", Garth mumbled. Yet it was.
His face was dirty, his clothes had stains of wine and mud all over. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced as he felt the stickyness of it. He would need to find an inn with the proper facilities. He started walking.
The Limping Dragon. The name and the silly sign above the door had Garth smirking briefly. It wasn't located in the in the best part of town, but in his current state Garth would stand out like a crow among doves in any finer establishment.It will have to do, he figured. The tavern was not crowded at this time a day. There was a few men, but none looked to be Duchy guards or agents. Except... In front of Garth stood a man. He too was watching the room. He looked dangerous and it had been something cat-like about the way the man moved. Someone to be watched to be sure. Some thief, with any luck, not a duchy agent, Garth hoped.
"'Scuse me", Garth said as he passed. The man had an ordinary face, which made his mecanical eye stand out a great deal more. Thankfully, the man didn't give Garth more than a short look, seemingly more interested with a young man sitting in a corner drinking by himself.
Garth made his way up to the tavern bar and snapped his fingers at the inkeep.
"A room and some hot water, and I would be pleased, master Dragon", Garth called out, his lips baring his pointy white teeth in a broad grin. Garth had been told his narrow eyes and pointy ears along with his fang-like teeth gave him an almost predatory appearance when smiling. After that he had given effort to smile as often as he could.
The man behind the bar gave him a suspicious look, but his fate lit up as Garth started counting up coin and putting it on the bartable.
At least he would look presentable tonight, and this 'job' the note had spoken of might very well be a way out of this poor excuse of a town.
The Limping Dragon. It was a tavern that one could reasonably expect a punch being served to them alongside their beer, an establishment that was run down to point of being decrepit but, despite this, somehow still bustling with activity, the patrons all of the adventurous, if untrustworthy, sort. Amurin, pleased to have been able to find such a place in this area, decided to spend his time there as he awaited the appropriate time to make his way to the center of down, his timing being used to gamble with the other costumers over games of chance. He was fairly bad at these games and, as such, ended up losing the countless coins he had brought with him, left with but a mere hundred in his name, but enjoyed himself nevertheless.
He had came here for the purposes of finding the one who sought his aid, mostly for the sake of being able to take on some bandits for his own personal enjoyment, but partially because he thought it so weird someone would count on his help that he wanted to meet them personally just to make sure they weren't pulling his leg. Although, since the hours that have passed since his early arrival here, he was both too focused on his gambling and too intoxicated to care about his reasons for being here. Someone will get me when they need me, he figured, if they don't, doubt they needed my help in first place.
It wasn't as if he was difficult to spot, after all, an elf amongst men stands out like a giant amongst ants.
He had came here for the purposes of finding the one who sought his aid, mostly for the sake of being able to take on some bandits for his own personal enjoyment, but partially because he thought it so weird someone would count on his help that he wanted to meet them personally just to make sure they weren't pulling his leg. Although, since the hours that have passed since his early arrival here, he was both too focused on his gambling and too intoxicated to care about his reasons for being here. Someone will get me when they need me, he figured, if they don't, doubt they needed my help in first place.
It wasn't as if he was difficult to spot, after all, an elf amongst men stands out like a giant amongst ants.
If you join here and want Kinglet with you, then the note she replaced it with would give Garrant an idea where to find her and inform him that she is following up on a lead, which she suspects to be a trap. If Zango doesn't join, then Kinglet just felt very adventurous and nicked another adventurers invite to the party during one of her nighttime strolls
The note had not been for her. Though why would a Thief ever care about ownership? She had snatched it up anyway, replaced it with a hasty message of her own, and took off with the mystery tucked safely away.
This was none of her business of course. Hardly anything ever was, especially not things she found on other peoples beds, but Kinglet carried a torch for the unknown, the intriguing and uncertain. And so following up on that plea for help came natural.
Come morning she gathered her gear, dagger bow and quiver, and made her way to the alleged meeting place. The bow and quiver she wrapped in cloth and threw over the wall, the guard she passed with a smile on thin lips, and the gate where she (well.. not her, but that was just a tiny detail) was meant to be come nightfall she found busy, but otherwise quite safe. She lingered at the gate for a while, took note of roads and alleys and easily accessible roofs, and once the sun had come about to begin its slow descent, Kinglet wandered off again.
She found the spot where she had dumped the old bow and wrapped the bundle of cloth to her back. Kinglet did not like flashing steel in public, even if the steel was not really steel and just some dirty iron tips on the handful of arrows she carried. Besides, when you wanted some food in your belly and a drink down your throat, then she thought being armed was fairly rude.
It didn't take her long until she found her way to the The Limping Dragon which was conveniently enough placed on her way back towards the gate -- Don't dragons fly, would you even see the limp? Kinglet wrinkled her forehead in thought about that particular question as as she shouldered her way into the tavern.
Though once there, the smell of food, smoke, sweat and spilled alcohol made her too hungry to care any more about dragons and their supposed limping and she started on her personal little quest for stew, bread and beer.
the boy makes his move Pete watched the novice thief attempt to pickpocket a drunk patron sitting on a stool near the bar. It was an imperfect yet effective technique. An accidental trip, hand accidentally drops the coins that were on the counter and catches a few of them before they fall. Helping the man pick up his coins, he had to give most of the loot he took to avoid suspicion.
Pete waited for the boy to leave the scene of the crime, then he began tailing him. he must go to his master and arrange his quota Pete continued to stalk the boy. After a few minutes the boy noticed he was being followed, so he tried to run away.
Pete caught up to the novice thief and pinned him to the floor. I'm not that old His mechanical eye seemed to frighten the child even more. "Who is your master?" Pete whispered to the boy, not wanting anyone to investigate the event.
Pete waited for the boy to leave the scene of the crime, then he began tailing him. he must go to his master and arrange his quota Pete continued to stalk the boy. After a few minutes the boy noticed he was being followed, so he tried to run away.
Pete caught up to the novice thief and pinned him to the floor. I'm not that old His mechanical eye seemed to frighten the child even more. "Who is your master?" Pete whispered to the boy, not wanting anyone to investigate the event.
The Haiminator, the kid just stole money from you.
Just to make it clear.
Why are everybody gathering here? Weird.
Just to make it clear.
Why are everybody gathering here? Weird.
Garth needed only cast one look at the amount of coins lying on the table to understand what the boy had been in such a rush about. It couldn't be helped, the boy was already out the door and would most like be a few blocks away by the time Garth would get to his tired feet.
He sighed deeply as he flinged a new pair of coins up on the table. "Get a move on", he said to the inkeep with an irritated frown, "lest I will be entirely without coin by the time the water arrives."
Garth swept the entirety of the inn with cold eyes. A few people were watching him now. He decided to make for the stairs and find a room. As he passed a table of gamblers he heard laughter and something that could have been an insult. Garth grimaced to himself, but otherwise ignored the men. This bath would do him well.
He sighed deeply as he flinged a new pair of coins up on the table. "Get a move on", he said to the inkeep with an irritated frown, "lest I will be entirely without coin by the time the water arrives."
Garth swept the entirety of the inn with cold eyes. A few people were watching him now. He decided to make for the stairs and find a room. As he passed a table of gamblers he heard laughter and something that could have been an insult. Garth grimaced to himself, but otherwise ignored the men. This bath would do him well.
Jethro jumped and looked around quickly when he heard someone talking, spotting the nearby shield-wielder. He chuckled nervously as the man talked about the buildings. "Yeah. Right." His expression changed when the man asked him about a note he produced from his pocket. "Yeah, I got one of those. I think." Jethro was half-asleep when he found the note, and had assumed the next morning that it was a dream.
Now thinking about the note, Jethro veered ever so slightly off course, obliviously walking straight toward a wall.
Now thinking about the note, Jethro veered ever so slightly off course, obliviously walking straight toward a wall.
"Whoa there buddy, you better watch where you're going lest you want to run into walls." Isaac said in an upbeat and fairly cheery tone. "If you don't mind me askin' where are you and your buddy headed?" As Isaac eyes the note Idwal has been showing Jethro. Hmm he has one too, I wonder if Mr.Daydreamer over here has one as well, or if he's just giving directions for the other guy... Isaac thought to himself
"Oh, please excuse me as I forgot to introduce myself, the names Isaac Asagi, and you are?"
"Oh, please excuse me as I forgot to introduce myself, the names Isaac Asagi, and you are?"
.
he can't be working alone "Tell me, boy, who is your master" Pete moved his left arm towards his belt, preparing to take out his knife if the boy won't talk. Pete's right eye looked up and saw a man standing above him. here is the master "Let go of my protege" the man said. Pete stood up and took a few steps back. The man standing in front of him wore a grey robe covering all of his body. a priest "I need to speak with your hawk" Pete looked at the man in front of him. The boy quickly stood up and hid behind him.
"You are talking with a tree. I will suffice. In exchange for this audience, do not harm any of us" the man pulls his hood back, revealing his face. acid The left side of the mans face was disfigured. He raised his arm and slowly pointed at the left side of his face, then to the mechanical eye Pete had. no questions and no answers
.
"I need work. Before that, I need information" Pete said. The man pushed the boy away from him and the boy quickly ran away. "The bandits are an unusual lot. I can give you both." the man said. He began walking slowly towards Pete, when he reached him he slipped a note into his pocket. The man turned around, "I was about to ask assistance from a neighbor. This is all" he whispered and then he put on his hood and walked away.
he can't be working alone "Tell me, boy, who is your master" Pete moved his left arm towards his belt, preparing to take out his knife if the boy won't talk. Pete's right eye looked up and saw a man standing above him. here is the master "Let go of my protege" the man said. Pete stood up and took a few steps back. The man standing in front of him wore a grey robe covering all of his body. a priest "I need to speak with your hawk" Pete looked at the man in front of him. The boy quickly stood up and hid behind him.
"You are talking with a tree. I will suffice. In exchange for this audience, do not harm any of us" the man pulls his hood back, revealing his face. acid The left side of the mans face was disfigured. He raised his arm and slowly pointed at the left side of his face, then to the mechanical eye Pete had. no questions and no answers
.
"I need work. Before that, I need information" Pete said. The man pushed the boy away from him and the boy quickly ran away. "The bandits are an unusual lot. I can give you both." the man said. He began walking slowly towards Pete, when he reached him he slipped a note into his pocket. The man turned around, "I was about to ask assistance from a neighbor. This is all" he whispered and then he put on his hood and walked away.