GHEtrin (Noah) - level 1 dragonborn fighter
My name is Ghetrin. I am a silver Dragonborn at a good middle-age of 42. I worship no particular deity. My alignment is chaotic good. I served in many wars and times of conflict when I was part of a rogue Dragonborn military force called The Punishers. We were backup troops and cannon fodder for the enemy, as well as infiltrators of important enemy base camps. Many of us died, but I managed to survive many missions. When I turned 40 they decided it would be prudent to cast me out saying they had no use for me anymore, as I was too old for their elite force. I rejected this, but they decided to cast me out anyways, leaving me to die in the wilderness. I survived in the wilderness for two years and searched for civilization in the process. Then I found it. Airspur, the great city, was my salvation. Once I was there, I immediately started to stock up on supplies for a journey back to a Dragonborn settlement. That is where my journey with my party begins.
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Faith (angela) - level 1 tiefling paladin
Faith followed her father everywhere as a youngster. He roamed the roads as bard, performing in taverns and on streets. He cared for her in the most minimal sense of the word. Never did he speak of the circumstances of her birth, but he would not let her go. Most of the time, he seemed soulless, withdrawn, and depressed. However, there were times when he looked at her, and something seemed to blaze beneath. Only when he sang and closed his eyes could she feel the humanity that must once have been within.
While exploring the night-time streets of Waterdeep during her father's annual spring-time stop there, she was drawn to the sight of sparks through a large shop window. The sparks were mirrored and amplified by a wall of shining armor and shields, glowing with polished pride. They hung amidst more humble, blackened farming and building tools. It was obvious she was watching a master. She peered against the glass and watched the glowing process unfolding within. An elderly stodgy dwarf stood at an anvil, bringing a heavy hammer down to strike a sword into shape. She watched for some time. It was obvious that the dwarf could feel a presence. He looked over his shoulder and saw her face squished up against the window. He grunted and returned to his work. She watched until he was finished and the embers cooled, fading into darkness, then scampering back to the tavern to help her father into bed. He would forget to sleep or eat without help. The next day, she dragged her father through town to watch at the window. The dwarf, again, seemed to begrudgingly acknowledge their presence with a grunt and quick glance. As she watched the dwarf work, she could feel her father place his hand upon her head, something she rarely felt. They stood for what must have been hour, while she chattered and asked questions that went unanswered. Eventually, she looked up into her father's eyes, and saw that rare blaze-the one she longed to see more often-the one that let her know that she was really loved, even if her father could not always bring himself to show it. Her father reached down and kissed her forehead and whispered for her to wait at the window for his return. There was something off, she knew, but she nodded slowly. Her father moved off into the busy market street and was soon lost in the crowd. She returned to the window, watching. Hours passed, and her father had not returned. She debated leaving her post for a long time, but, finally, she scurried back to the tavern. Once there, she discovered their belongings gone. She asked the tavern owner where her father had gone, and he shook his head sadly. He handed the young tiefling her travelling pack and a letter. She ripped the letter open and read the contents. She choked back tears, because she did not want the tavern owner to see her cry, although she could not explain why. Quietly, she picked up her pack and walked slowly back to the dwarven blacksmith's shop, not so excited now about what she might find at the other end. Once there, she opened the door to the shop and walked up to stand next to the dwarf. The dwarf, finally seemed surprised by her presence. She opened up her mouth to speak, but was afraid of her voice betraying her. She handed him the letter and the hefty jingling pouch that had been stuffed into her pack, mentioned in the letter. Then she waited. She watched the hardened dwarf's face soften in the light of the fire before them. He bounced the pouch lightly in his hand when he had finished, looking straight forward at the wall of armor and tools. After what seemed like ages, he thrust the letter back out towards her, without looking at her. Her stomach dropped, and she prepared to turn away, unsure of what her next step would be. But, then, the dwarf's grunt stopped her. He motioned to the long iron bar she had watched him use to move the coals around in the furnace and tossed a nearby glove at her. She could feel herself breathe again. She dropped her pack in a corner, put on the glove, and moved around to the other side of the bench, poking the long iron rod into the coals and began to stir. Each spring, she would return to the tavern, and the owner would shake his head. She learned to recognize the dead feeling that her father had often seemed to walk around with. It crept into her occasionally. It wasn't death. It was a hole-as though something had been ripped away from her, and there was no way to close the gap. She worked under the dwarf for years. But, he had been elderly when they had first met, and time did not march backwards. While she became something of an accomplished blacksmith herself, dealing with customers and the running of a business did not interest her. There was still that hole to fill. The dwarf finally called for a stop to the lighting of the furnace. The merchandise that remained was sold off. A wagon was hired. The dwarf told her, simply, that it was time to return home. She knew that the dwarf was nearing her end, and she could fathom what her life would be like without the figure who had come to be something like a hybrid of grandfather and mentor. The dwarf took her home, to Mithril Hall. There, she was viewed with suspicion at first, but her skills with the forge were undeniable. She was introduced, by her mentor, to the Temple of Moradin, where she began to fill the hole that ached in her chest. Slowly, the community of dwarves began to accept her presence. As her heart began to heal, she pledged herself to Moradin. She learned and trained on the clerics and warriors of Mithril Hall. When her mentor passed, her love had grown deep, but she felt ready to find her own way. So, she set off to build her life. |
beowulf (Jake) - Level 1 human rogue
I grew up in Dragon's Coast in an area where trade was as common as walking. I have been living on the streets for as long as I can remember. No job would take me as a worker do to my scrawny and sickly body. Having no way to make a living, I took to shadows and became a thief. I stole from everyone who turned me down. Life was all well and good. I ate everyday, “worked” as I at my leisure, and found the one thing I'm good at.
That was till I was found out by the guards. I couldn't even walk in the street without being pointed out. It is this which drove me out of my home; not like I had much of one anyways. From there I wandered across the land as a “merchant”. |
maplethorn (Zach) - level 1 pixie assassin
The story of MapleThorn is that of a thief reformed. The story starts in Maple's homeland. There, he is the second son of the king. Being the second son was rough; he was treated like a regular noble. So, in order to get away from the family, he decided to become a petty thief. This severely angered his parents, as well as the other nobles in the king's court, but nobody did anything to stop Maple until one foggy night he got the idea to “inherit” the crown by taking it from the rightful owner like he had done with so many other of his possessions. He stole the crown right from its position in the middle of the palace and walked out unharmed, until his father, the king, found out. This was the last straw. The son was banished, never to be seen again until a few years later when he arrived on the shores of Akanul. After his banishment, he learned his lesson. He will only benefit the people with his assassinations and thievery. He had joined the Red Scales.
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Samudra Lily (Megan) - level 1 pachyfolk warlord
Brunhild kasimir (Zechariah) - level 1 iynisin ranger
Brunhild Kasimir is an Iynisin, a race that looks similar to and were born in the same instant as the Eladrin, except are a little taller and with grey tinted skin. They are also said to look like Shadar-Kai, but this is because the Shadar-Kai are actually descendants of the Iynisin. He has sharp, angular features, is six feet and four inches tall, one hundred and seventy-five pounds, has short white hair, deep blue eyes, is in peak physical condition, and was born into an unusual family, even by Iynisin standards. His father was Bruskya Kasimir, who was an amazing fighter. He had black hair and brown eyes, and his armor of choice was hide. His favored weapon was a beautiful longsword named Nadetta that is a family heirloom, and has seen four generations of battle.
His mother was Ankyava Kasimir, and she had beautiful, shimmering, long white hair, and crystal blue eyes. She was wonderfully masterful with a bow and arrow. His sister Myasva was only one year older than he, was as tall as him, and she inherited her mother's crystal blue eyes and long white hair. Her weapons of choice were her dual scimitars, with her fallback weapons her dual daggers and longbow, and she had ninety arrows in her quiver at all times. While his mother, father, and sister hated the wretched Fae, cursed Pixies especially, they didn't hate all life as was usual among their race. The reason for Brunhild's family's extreme hatred of Pixies is that the rest of their family were killed by the despicable creatures. There was a dispute over resources sixteen years ago between the Iynisin home of Siniava and a nearby Pixie kingdom, which led to a battle in which scores of Iynisin and Pixies alike died. The Iynisin came out victorious, of course, but the rest of Brunhild's kin were among the price. The Iynisin and Pixies agreed to a peace treaty, and they respected each others military might after the war As he grew older, Brunhild was trained in the use of a longsword, as well how to be comfortable wearing hide armor. Brandishing a longsword comes naturally to Iynisin, as does using a longbow; however, Brunhild was never taught how to aim accurately, which has caused and continues to cause him much frustration. He was also taught in the ways of stealth, acrobatics, the use of grappling hooks, various uses of rope, and how to survive on his own. He was also taught of the Raven Queen, a goddess of death to whom there is a temple in the center of Siniava, and who the Iynisin have strong ties with. The rules her followers follow are: do not pity those who experience suffering nor the dying, bring the hubris, and destroy the cults of Orcus whenever they arise. Brunhild does not consider himself a follower of the Raven Queen, but he does agree with her rules. He loved his father and mother in the traditional sense, but he felt something... more for his sister. He thought about her often, and felt misplaced when he wasn't around her. One night, when he was seventeen, he went on a walk through the woods and found himself inexplicably drawn to the lake in the forest's center. Brunhild could not believe what he saw. It was Myasva bathing in the lake. After a couple minutes of watching her, she revealed she was aware of his presence and beckoned him over. Brunhild and Myasva came to love each other, and they started their socially taboo relationship, which continued for two and a half years, for that is when everything changed. When Brunhild was nineteen, on Myasva's twentieth birthday, the Kasimir clan went camping outside of Siniava, close to the Pixie kingdom whom the Iynisin had fought twenty five years before, and whom were now allies. Unfortunately, not all of these Pixies support being allies with the Iynisin, and by pure happen stance a very large group of such Pixies seeking to send a message to the denizens of Siniava stumbled across Brunhild and his family. The Pixies, not wanting to get their hands dirty, hired Elven mercenaries to dispatch of them in a most cruel fashion: ambush them and force Brunhild to decide between killing his mother, his father, and his sister, the love of his life, and then kill Brunhild himself. Brunhild knew that if he chose any one of the three, the other two would resent him for it and become as hateful as the rest of their people, which he knew they would not want. Brunhild decided that he would be the only monster born that day and killed first his father, then his mother, and lastly Myasva. At least he kissed her goodbye first. After having witnessed him kill his whole family, the mercenaries panicked and tried to kill him, but Brunhild was too fast and too full of rage for them. First he grabbed Nadetta and disemboweled the mercenary leader, beheaded him, struck his sword through the second's throat, and then cut the third's torso clean off. He very painfully interrogated the fourth about why his friends had one this horrible deed, which was unnecessary because he had already told Brunhild everything he knew immediately after all his friends had died. He was beaten to death within minutes. He brought his family's bodies back to Siniava and gave them a proper burial, calling out to the Raven Queen to guard his fallen kin from the curse of undeath. Then Brunhild led a small group of Iynisin back to the Pixie kingdom, and slaughtered all Pixies involved in his family's murder within the night of their arrival. Truly, he has earned his surname, for Kasimir means "The Great Destroyer". Having settled his vendetta, he finally let himself properly grieve his parents and lover. After a couple months, Brunhild decided it would be best if he got some distance from Siniava and became a mercenary, for he no longer thinks anything of killing and isn't qualified for much other work than that. Brunhild would never forget where he comes from, nor the schemes of the wretched and vile Pixies. |